Authors note: As I'm writing this I realized just how much of a depressing story this is going to be. Given the subject matter I don't know if I will be able to lighten it up at all. This would be a good time to go and take your happy pills.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Chapter 2: Chatting with the Doc.

Sam was true to his word. As soon as he landed and grabbed his suitcase he gave Jessica a call. The first call he made after that was to the hospital and to his fathers Doctor to let him know he was on his way. It was approaching dusk now. The flight had been long and Sam hoped to make it to the hospital before visiting hours were over. Doctor Katchen assured him that no matter what time he got there he would have a chance to see his father.

Hawthorn was a medium size town, with a small downtown area. Hopping in a cab he directed the cab driver to take him to the cheapest motel near the hospital. Four blocks away from the hospital the cabbie dropped him off at the local 'no tell motel' as Dean would have put it. Sam smiled as he remembered the countless times he and Dean had landed in one of those.

His room actually wasn't that bad. The bed look decent, the room not too garishly decorated, and it had real cable not just porn. He propped his suitcase up on the bed and pulled out what few clothes he had managed to stuff in the small suitcase before he left. He pulled out one of two suit jackets he owned and gave it a once over with the steam iron the motel had graciously loaned to him. Looking at himself in the mirror he decided given the circumstances it was as good as he was gonna look. Finally he put on his tie and took a deep breath.

He didn't really know what to expect. If what the Doctor had told him was true then his father had been sick for quite awhile. He wondered how much his father had changed. Sam had asked the doctor not to tell his father he was coming and reluctantly the Doctor had agreed. While Sam was taking a big chance, it was a chance he was willing to take. He had to see his father. He had to know why his father did what he did. He hoped once his father saw him that they could have some sort of truce between them. He thought of all his wishes….and his biggest wish which was never to come true. Despite today's outcome his brother would still be dead.

He locked the door behind him and headed down the street to the hospital. Four simple little blocks. Four blocks where the closer he got the heavier his legs felt. The heavier his soul felt. As he approached the stairs leading into the hospital he hesitated.

"What the hell am I doing?" he thought to himself. A thousand fears filled his head and heart. What if his father said he didn't want to see him? What if he didn't know who Sam was? What if he didn't remember what happened to Dean? What? What? What? Sam took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Once he took that first step towards the door he was okay. He knew he had to do it for his brother. He owed Dean that much.

At the reception desk the receptionist took his name and made a quick phone call to Doctor Katchen's assistant to let him know Sam had arrived. Directing him to the waiting area Sam was forced to sit for what seemed forever until the doors opened and a middle aged man came towards him.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting Mr. Winchester; I had a patient in trouble. Did you have a good flight?" He asked holding out his hand to Sam. Sam grasped it firmly and returned the gesture.

"Bout as good as any flight would be under these circumstances Doctor," Sam replied. "and please call me Sam. Mr. Winchester sounds too much like you're talking to my Dad."

"Understood, understood. Let's go down the hall to my office if you please. I'd like to explain a few things before we head over to your father's ward." The Doctor said as he gestured over to the doors which led to the patient part of the hospital. Sam tried not to look around as he followed the Doctor down the beige corridor to his office.

"Normally I would not be meeting a patient's family member here at the hospital. I would have preferred to have had you come to my private practice first but with these circumstances I will make an exception. Come now, here's my office." He pulled out a key and unlocked the door letting Sam in first before shutting in behind them.

"Make yourself comfortable." He said hanging up his white jacket and setting down behind his desk. Sam looked around and thought about sitting on the sofa against the wall but thought that would have been too much like a therapy session. Instead he moved one of the chairs next to the desk around the front so he could face the Doctor. The Doctor looked at him and nodded approving of his decision to sit closer.

"Good, that proves you're not afraid of me." he smiled at Sam as he leaned back against the chair. The Doctor reached over, grabbed a file from on top the nearest file cabinet, and opened it on his desk, flipping through some pages before resting on what he wanted.

"Should I be Doctor?" Sam asked at the strange comment.

"No not really, it's just most of my patients feel it's necessary to sit on the sofa when we talk." The Doctor explained.

"Well I'm not one of your patients." Sam remarked back. He sat back in his chair and folded his hands together waiting for the Doctor to start.

"Ahh good lets get started. Like I explained on the phone this morning, your father was found wandering in the streets. Physically he was severely dehydrated and looked like he hadn't eaten a regular meal in quite some time. Also he suffered from a lack of personal hygiene. We were quite concerned when we started to clean him up and discovered his body was a maze of old and not so old scars. Do you know what you father could have been doing to have been the victim of so many injuries?" the Doctor started jotting down some notes as he spoke. Momentarily panicking at the question, Sam came up with the only practical occupation that might have been the cause all those injuries

"When he was younger my father used to be a bounty hunter. As you can imagine sometimes the people he was sent after didn't always want to go willingly. I lost count how many times my father was slashed or stabbed. He's even been shot a few times." Sam looked the good doctor straight in the eye as he lied. The Doctor wrote some notes as Sam finished his story.

"And how long was your father a bounty hunter?" the Doctor asked as he continued to write notes.

"I assumed he was still on the job. Once I went off to college I lost contact with him." Sam shifted a bit in his seat.

"Tell me about that Sam. What happened that you spent eight years out of contact with the rest of your family? It must have been very traumatic for you." The Doctor looked up briefly as he spoke. He gauged Sam's reaction to the question and made a note.

"Doctor I thought we were here to talk about my father not me." Sam wasn't ready to open up that can of worms.

"Son, clearly something happened in your family at that time that made you leave your family behind. It think it's important as part of his treatment. What about your mother, did you stop having contact with her as well?" He asked aware of Sam's growing uneasiness.

"I stopped having contact with my mother when I was six months old, Doctor." Sam's didn't try to hide his displeasure at having to continue this line of questioning.

"I'm sorry, six months old you say?" The Doctor wrote that information down on a separate sheet of paper.

"My mother was murdered then Doc, she didn't just get up and leave one day." Sam spoke matter of factly rightfully assuming the Doctor had the wrong scenario down.

"Ahh I'm sorry. So you have no real memories of her then?" Surprised at Sam's response, he looked up at Sam realizing, that despite his attempt to hide it, the pain that was still present in the old wound.

"Only what my father and Dean have told me." Sam looked down at his hands as he spoke, inwardly cringing as he realized he spoke of Dean in present tense.

"And your father, how did he react to her murder?" The doctor's voice softened as he caught the unconscious mistake. Sam stopped as he decided whether to tell him the truth or to go with the lie.

'Well my father abandoned Dean and me to take up this futile search for the demon that killed our mother. In the process he alienated his youngest son and apparently some how got his oldest son killed on his quest for vengeance.' Looking back up at the Doctor he continued with the lie.

"After they found out who killed my mother and they went to prison my father decided he would become a bounty hunter. It sort of became our family business. He would be gone for days on end while Dean and I stayed with friends. Some times we would go along with him and help out." Sam decided to leave out the part where he and Dean, as children, would be left for days or weeks alone in motel rooms. That bit of information would only bring more questions he didn't want to answer.

"So both you and your brother followed your father into as you say the 'family business', at what age did you start?" The Doctor was now leaning back in his chair waiting for Sam's response.

"When we were kids Dad would let us tag along and maybe help out, well my brother more than me. Dean had a real affinity for it. Me, I just followed along for the ride." Sam hoped his lie was convincing. The Doctor looked at Sam, knew there had to be more than that simple answer, and formulated his next question carefully.

"So you are telling me you more or less were forced into this lifestyle against your will and this started when you were children? How did the authorities not get involved with a man who allows his children to tag along on such a dangerous occupation?" the Doctor started to write notes again on the separate piece of paper.

"Anytime someone came snooping around we would just up and leave town. Usually that didn't happen unless one of us got hurt. Stupid hospitals always reported our injuries to Social Services." Sam kicked himself inwardly again for giving away too much information.

"Just how often did you and your brother get hurt?" the Doctor was now convinced that his patients mental illness went further back then he thought. What kind of man would subject his children to the daily threats of violence and possible injury? This had to be the result of Delayed Stress Syndrome caused by his wife's murder. No healthy man would have subjected his children to this kind of constant terror and threat.

Sam knew he didn't want to answer any more of the doctors questions. He could tell by the doctors behavior that he had already formed an opinion on his fathers mental health and Sam didn't want to add any more fuel to the fire, so to speak. Besides if he kept talking, the Doctor was liable to have him committed as well.

"Doctor no offense but I really just want to see my father. I've just spent three flights, two layovers, and 11 hours trying to get here. Can we postpone this little chat until tomorrow?"

"Of course, of course Sam. I got a little carried away, I'm sorry. It's obvious that your father has lived a very interesting life and my ultimate my goal to get the man back to himself. Forgive me if I got a little too enthusiastic. Your presence here can only be helpful. I should warn you though, with your father living on the streets, I'm sure you understand his appearance is probably not how you remember him."

"How so Doctor?" Sam figured he would be thinner, greyer certainly, but other wise he should still look the same as he always did. The Doctor stood up and beckoned him to the door. Following him down the hallway and through a series of locked doors, Sam found himself in the middle of a patience visiting room. Several orderlies were present keeping an eye on the other patients who were also having visitors. As he was about to enter to room the Doctor stopped him with a gentle touch of his arm.

"Your father has been through a considerable ordeal son. As much as you want to see him, if he starts to get agitated, I will have to ask you to leave. I can't take the risk of traumatizing him further. Also keep in mind he probably doesn't look as he did eight years ago. Remember too, that just seeing him again is liable to trigger a strong emotional reaction in you as well. If you want to talk afterwards, I'll be back in my office." The Doctor lead Sam through the door and into the waiting area. Sam turned to shake the doctors hand.

"Thanks doc for giving me this chance, I really appreciate it. I think I can take it from here." Sam started to look around the room for his father.

"I'll be in my office if you need me. Good luck Sam." He said shaking Sam's hand back.

"Thanks again." Sam turned around as the Doctor left and started to walk around the room. Several patients sat by themselves but none of them looked like his father. As he moved around the room he looked at the faces of those he passed by. Off to the side sat a man, hair close shaved, rail thin, with his back towards the room. He sat hunched over, hands folded on the table he was leaning up against. Sam gave him a glance and kept walking.

"Sammy…." the voice almost a whisper but John Winchesters none the less. It wasn't until Sam heard his name that he turned and recognized his father.

"Dad……"

Tbc

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Authors note: I had to stop it there. You know their conversation is gonna be a doosy. Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review.