Glass Skies

Author's Note: You have ALL my apologies and then some for the extreme lateness of this post. Not only did I struggle with some real life issues- but I also went through a session of some of the worst writer's block I ever had. I'm certain it's because of the wonderful and encouraging reviews and comments from all of you readers that every time I attempted to start this chapter it was never good enough-and I'm still not entirely sure it's good enough…but it will do. Some 30k words I trashed in the making of this chapter and two months later…here is the 2nd to last part. For those I haven't already lost, thanks so much for waiting. And belated as I may be, I do intend to thank you all personally.

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"He might come back…" Sam said. As he spoke the words that seemed so out of place to him, they were the only ones he could grasp.

The words just sort of came from a place less than conscious inside of him, an almost instinctual but so far buried need to say something that could prove a light for the darkness surrounding his brother now. He almost regretted saying them. At the same time, he appreciated the sudden, brief flicker of hope in Dean's watery eyes, even if that hope was quickly extinguished with anger.

"What would it matter, Sam?" Dean moved himself away and stared rigidly at Sam. His voice was bitter, not towards his brother but to the questions he was posing. "Do you want him to come back?"

Sam watched inattentively as Dean blinked the tears out of his eyes, once again putting on his too-tough-to-cry façade. And only Dean would be able to pull the dynamic switch off so effortlessly, from vulnerable to dangerously stoic. Sam knew he should be accustomed to the trained, older hunter's tendency to do so, and yet he was annoyed with it all the same.

"Don't you?" Sam shot out, a little unnerved at the defensive manner his tone took on.

For a moment, Dean didn't recognize his brother. It was the same for Sam.

"After what just happened? Were you not in the room a minute ago when he walked out on us again?"

Sam contemplated Dean's question as though the answer required thought when really he knew it was simple. Of course he was there. It wasn't so much the latter, rhetorical concept that Dean inquired about…but the real question. What did just happen?

Over the years, through all the rebellious streaks and all the struggles Sam had gone through to gain independence, to be himself- to try and be normal- sometimes he'd felt their father prevented a lot of good things from happening for him. Even though Dean had been there, always behind him or at his side to pick up the pieces of broken dreams and rearrange them as best he could, he never understood why Dean was so quick to forgive their father. So easily had Dean forgotten the huge fight that had the three of them fuming for hours afterwards. So easily had Dean always stuck up not only for Sam or John, but for their family itself. For so long had Dean fought to keep them together, when they were ferociously pulling away.

And in just one, solitary moment of abrasive definition, of tiredness and shame, had Dean lost the battle he'd been fighting all his life. Defeat had crushed him instantly, and as though the last twenty years of drawing truces and peace bargaining between a father and a little brother had meant nothing...he let it all go.

When John walked out Dean went with him. The once 'good little soldier' retreated somewhere dark, became unhinged by loss and grief and died without victory and honor. Just like that, he gave up...and in doing so, he was not the same superhero brother that Sam knew he was.

For all the countless moments in Sam's life where Dean refused to let him lose, Sam knew he couldn't let Dean lose this fight- perhaps the most important fight of all their lives...the fight to keep their family together.

And if bringing back the soldier, the son of their father Dean worshiped, meant looking past the misunderstanding he felt and pushing aside the anger…he would do it for Dean.

"Look, we've had a lot of fights, right? Most of them were the same ones over and over. Some of them were bad and some of them were really bad...and this one is the worst. But...I mean, we're all tired, we've all literally been through hell or close to it...we said things we shouldn't have. I know I said some things I wish I didn't..."

"But you meant them, didn't you? And they were true, weren't they?"

"Dean, I'm sorry I said them the way they came out. It was just…he was being so unfair to you, to us…I mean, you're lying here in a hospital, you lost a ton of blood…we could have lost you, and all he was thinking about was that damn demon!" Sam shouted, and he remembered why he was so riled up to begin with. He quickly composed himself and let out a sigh. "But maybe that's just one side of it…maybe he could only think of the demon because he knew it hurt you…If you really think about it, it fits his personality."

"That's your college boy interpretation? It fits his personality?" Dean mocked the words sloppily. "I appreciate what you're doing Sam, I really do. But you don't have to make excuses for him. Not this time…"

"What about you? What about my entire life that you spent making excuses for his absences, for his behavior?"

"That was before…"

"Before what?" Sam demanded.

"Before I remembered that our Dad died in the fire that took Mom!" Dean tried to yell but a pang of soreness and strain in his throat reduced his voice to something just above a whisper. The remnants of tears in his eyes burned away. It seemed as though Dean sliced his heart open and the words bled out, cutting into Sam.

Sam had no arguments. He had no response but the nagging need to grab Dean and hug him, to bring him back to the days where John was his hero, when their father could do nothing wrong—at least without a good enough excuse to be forgiven.

"I'm done," Dean continued. His eyes looked heavy and he struggled to keep his head up. "He won't come back…he's been gone a long time and I'm tired of waiting for him, Sam. We chase enough ghosts in this life…"

Dean closed his eyes, relaxed his tired body, though he curled into his sheets as best he could. The conversation had left him feeling cold. And Sam knew he was exhausted and even if Dean didn't want to sleep, he needed to sleep. The operation also took a lot out of him so Sam wasn't going to prevent Dean from resting, no matter how bad he wanted to finish talking. It seemed for the first time in a very long time Dean had said something so real, so raw, so revealing…and Sam remembered how human, how normal his brother was…not just the unbreakable soldier he knew him to be.

Sam knew now more than ever just how breakable Dean was, how broken he'd become, and how desperately Sam needed to find a way to fix him.

Sam waited until he saw the even rising and fall of Dean's chest as sleep overpowered him finally to leave. It couldn't be too late to fix this, surely. There must be some way to find reconciliation with John.

So Sam set off, quietly and slowly at first as he gathered his thoughts and collected himself, trying to figure out what to say. He picked up his pace towards John's room the more his thoughts wandered into dark places…

What if he really left, and they never see him again? Would it be so terrible?

But Dean…Dean needs his family, he needs his father….

I have to bring him back...I want him to come back…for all of us.

He knew he was angry at his father. He was also angry at himself for fighting with him in front of Dean. He was angry at a lot of things, really. But he loved his brother more than he could be mad at anyone for anything, and he knew what family meant to Dean. He couldn't lose his family because of arguments, because John would never 'get' him like Dean did…Sam had to believe that the man John used to be, the man John still could be was approachable to become the father Dean and Sam wanted him to be.

Soon enough, Sam was running down the halls, searching faster for John's room and hoping he'd still be there…because it was then Sam realized how much he wanted his father back, too.

But as he reached room 315 and saw the door open, sunlight spilling out into the hall and washing over the freshly made, unoccupied bed…he wondered why he had any hope at all that he'd be there. He slammed his fist against the door and stared into the vast emptiness of the room. A few nurses shot him a couple odd glances but went on their way without saying anything.

He slunk into the quiet room. A long, restrained exhale escaped him as he dolefully slumped down on the bed. His head cast downward as he fiddled with the air between his fingers, carefully mulling over the situation. Part of him felt guilty. For years he unwittingly pushed John away, when really he just wanted him to be there for Dean and him, to understand and approve, to allow them some kind of normalcy. And suddenly, with Dean making the final shove…John was gone. Sam didn't think he'd actually miss him as much as he did.

They'd tried apologies and tried forgiveness, they'd tried starting over and moving on, and they'd tried to be a family all for naught. Dean wasn't fighting for them anymore and Sam couldn't carry on the fight when their dad had already left. Defeat surrounded him. And how hypocritical he felt for wishing John was there, wishing they could say they were sorry even if they didn't mean it, when he knew well enough that he was the main reason John wasn't there in the first place.

And now Dean was suffering the most.

"Keep brooding like that and you're going to have the entire staff of nurses surrounding you, kid."

A rough but warm voice startled him, and he looked up to see Bobby standing in the doorway with half a smile on his face. He looked a little out of breath, slightly hunched over and grasping the doorframe for support with one hand and the other placed near his back.

"What happened?" Sam asked, genuinely concerned. Bobby let out a gruff laugh.

"I'm fine. Elevators were temporarily malfunctioning so I had to take the stairs. I'm not young and athletic like you, you know?" He answered, finally catching his breath and stepping into the room. He took a seat next to the taller man who looked awfully similar to a little kid who was lost in some giant world of strangers. "So, I got most of what happened from the doctor. Told him I was your uncle. I can imagine you had a not-so-friendly run-in with that demon of yours and that you found your father. Doc said there were three of you that came in. How are you doing? How's Dean?"

"We'll live. …Dean was hurt the worst…but he'll live."

"Hmm," Bobby nodded, steadily interested in the turn of events. "And your father?"

Sam kept quiet, wondering how he could break the news to Bobby…even though it appeared he already knew what Sam was going to say.

"He had business to take care of."

"Ah, I see. And what of you? You're not going with him?"

"I'm staying with my brother." Sam stated defensively, looking as though he wanted to add more but purposely kept quiet. It intrigued Bobby.

"Let me guess…he's back to the hunt and he's left you behind, is that it?"

Sam nodded.

"We had a huge fight…well, it was more than a fight. We just blew up at each other…and once again Dean was stuck in the middle. Then Dean told our dad that if he left…not to ever come back. He'd never say anything like that, especially not to dad. It just wasn't him, and I think it scared him. Hell, it scares me. I just…I feel like I made Dean choose…"

"How's that?"

"The past year we've been searching for him…all I did was ridicule Dean for having blind faith in our dad, for treating him like he was a good father. All I could focus about was how he disappointed us and left time after time…but Dean, he would focus on the better moments. Dean knew our dad before our mom died. He knew what a good father he really was and he always remembered that—it's what kept him going, what kept him fighting—reminding himself that one day the fight would be over and we could just be a family. I feel like I took that away from him, now. Maybe if I wasn't so negative...maybe if I knew dad before mom died...I wouldn't have been so hard on him. I wouldn't have pulled Dean away from him."

"Life's full of 'maybe ifs', Sam. It's natural for fathers and sons to argue. I didn't even speak to my dad for five years because of a fight we had once. And I hated him for a long while, blamed him for a lot of things that went wrong in my life. And sure, he was partially responsible for some...but so was I."

"Sometimes I feel so mad at him but I don't know why."

"I'll be first to tell you that you have a right to be mad at him. He hasn't made the best choices in the past...but sometimes you just need to forget that for a moment and look where you are now. Somehow, during the awful road trips and motel stays, he raised two of the most good-hearted and brilliant young men as I've ever seen. He couldn't have done that if he was all bad, could he?"

"So why didn't he stick around? Why is hunting more important to him than us?"

"That's something you're gonna have to ask your dad."

"That's not a question I should have to ask him!" Sam shouted as a particular nerve was struck. He quickly lowered his voice and stared into a blank void. "...I hate him."

"I think you're just mad at yourself right now because you miss him. And you miss him because you love him, don't you? Or else you wouldn't be hurting this much with him gone..."

Sam was quiet, a bit unresponsive for a moment as he let Bobby's words register.

"I just don't know what to do now..."

"I know your father, he's not one to give up on his sons...but he is one to give up on himself. Even if history shows otherwise--he needs you and Dean like he needs air underwater. Give yourself some time to think about that. Really think about it. You'll know what do after that."

"You think so?"

Bobby clapped Sam on the shoulder and gave a friendly shake. "I'm fairly certain. In the meantime, why don't you go back to Dean's room. I'll get some coffee and meet you back there and we'll see how he's doing, all right?"

"Sure..."

-:-

Sam was once again left with his thoughts while walking the hospital corridors back to Dean's room. He felt a little better after the conversation with Bobby, but was still left nonetheless confused about the situation and how he felt about it. He knew what he wanted.

He wanted Dean to be happy. He wanted to be happy. He wanted their family together, even as dysfunctional as they were sometimes. But he didn't want to hurt anymore, to miss his father when he was near.

As he approached Dean's room door, through the small window he saw a familiar, shadowy figure with his back to Sam, staring at his sleeping brother. After a brief moment of terror, wondering if it was the demon returning to finish him off...Sam relaxed. The figure moved closer to Dean and sat at the chair beside his bed and Sam recognized him as John.

And he never missed his father more.

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To be continued…

Since life has finally calmed down (for the time being) and writer's block doesn't have the best of me…I will have the next and last part up way sooner than this update. In fact, it's almost halfway through and I'm really excited for it. And I thank you all endlessly for your continuing support of this story.

Silver Kitten