John Winchester came close to losing his children more than once.
Chapter Five: A hunt goes wrong – Part two
Dean was still unconscious. John stood by his bed, stroking his son's short hair lovingly. They offered him a chair, but John refused. He was too nervous to seat.
He had been right about the seriousness of Dean's concussion. The doctors had also informed him that Dean had three cracked ribs, one broken, along with a hairline fraction to his wrist and a sprained ankle. He was also black and blue all over. John had no idea Dean was injured that badly, but at the moment, he was more worried about Sam.
They told him the surgery would last three to four hours, and it's been six already. No one came looking for him, offering any information, and no one seemed willing to tell him anything even when John had asked. They kept telling him to wait patiently, but patience was never one of John's strong points. Sam suffered a serious injury to his liver and one of his kidneys, and lost way too much blood. He was barely breathing when John had finally reached the hospital. John jumped out of the car, rushing inside the emergency room and crying out for any doctor to come to his son's aid. It was Dean who carried Sam out of the car, but he didn't get very far. The minute the doctor and the nurses took Sam from his hands, Dean had collapsed.
They didn't want to give him any sedatives because of the injury to his head. Dean kept falling in and out of consciousness. He asked about Sam whenever he would regain his consciousness, and John kept telling him that Sammy was going to be okay, that Dean had done a good job protecting his brother. He knew that was what Dean needed to hear.
John looked up at the nurse that came in the room, hoping for some news about Sam, but she said she didn't know anything and promised she'd check for him. She took Dean's vitals, her face remaining annoyingly expressionless. Noticing the apprehensive look in John's eyes, she smiled at him, but offered no words of encouragement.
The cops had already been there to talk to him. He told them he went camping with his children, that he left them for just a moment to get something out of the car and that when he got back he saw them being attacked by a coyote, figuring the cops would buy the story considering he wasn't the only one telling it. The cops offered him their sympathy and wished his sons best health, leaving him alone with no farther questions. At least he wouldn't have to worry about that.
Dean's face contorted in pain, a small whisper leaving his lips, and John cringed. Dean never spoke of Mary, never mentioned her, never asked questions about her. He would always go quiet whenever Sam talked about her or asked questions. Sometimes, John would wonder if his older son even remembered his mother. And then there were times like this. In the very few times that Dean was in great pain, but not lucid enough to control himself, he would always call for Mary, always ask for his mother.
John kissed his son's forehead, touching his arm, wishing there was something, anything more he could do for him, but for the time being, there wasn't.
Now, if it were Sam, John would know what to do. Sam was never shy about telling John when he was hurt, when he was in pain. He was still a child. Whenever he got sick or hurt he would moan and groan, going for sympathy to get them to buy him the magazine he wanted, to order his favorite food, to get control over to TV, or anything in those lines. Sam knew what he wanted, and knew how to get it. Dean was different. He always put his brother's needs first, even when they were both sick, even if he was injured more seriously than Sam, Sam would always get what he wanted, and Dean would usually be the one giving it to him. Dean was never one to complain. He was never one to argue or cry, and ninety-nine percent of the time, it filled John with pride. The remaining one percent, however, worried John out of his mind. The walls his son had built around himself were so strong John feared they might be too strong to allow any bending, which would inevitably lead to them breaking. John prayed that it would never happen, that he would never get to see those walls collapse. But he did. Six years later, when Sam left for college, John witnessed those walls crumble to dust from up close.
A couple of days after Sam had left for Stanford, John came home to an empty motel room. Dean's car was gone. There was no note waiting for him, no phone call to alert him. It was very uncharacteristic of Dean to just leave like that, just disappear without a word. For a moment, John feared that Dean, too, had left him, joining his brother. But Dean's things were still there. So John did what he hated so much to do; he waited patiently.
By midnight, John was truly worried. Almost worried enough to call Sam and ask him if he had heard anything from his brother. Almost.
He started making the calls at half past midnight, and was relieved to no end when he got a call at two in the morning from the local bar, asking him to come and pick up his son. John walked there, thinking Dean would probably frown on leaving his precious Impala behind.
Dean didn't want to leave the bar. He wanted John to go away and leave him alone. It was the first time John had ever seen his oldest son completely drunk. John had always known his boys were extremely close. Apparently, he had underestimated the pain Dean felt at seeing Sam leave. John dragged Dean out of the bar, Dean being too drunk to even walk straight, but Dean refused to get in the car with his father. He yelled at John for driving Sam away, saying it was all John's fault. Dean looked angrily at John, saying that if they had just stopped hunting every once in a while and stayed someplace for more than just a few months, then maybe Sam would have stayed. And then he did the last thing John had ever expected him to. He started crying. It ripped John's heart apart to see his son in such pain, but there was nothing he could do beside hold Dean in his arms and promise him that everything was going to be okay, promise that they were still, and always will be, a family. John told his son that it was the only thing that really counted.
It was the first, and only, time John had ever seen Dean fall apart. It took him three days to get out of bed after that, but when he finally did, he had his walls back around him; now stronger and higher than ever. He refused to let John in, and simply wanted to know what supernatural ass they were going to kick next. Dean never talked about Sam leaving again, and John didn't push him. He just wished Sam would pick up the damned phone every now and then and call his brother.
John straightened when the doctor came in, a serious expression on his face.
"Mister Winchester?" John's heart quickened its pace. "My name is Dr. Benson, I was your son's surgeon." The doctor said.
"Is my son…?"
"Your son is out of surgery. He's in the pediatric ICU at the moment. I'm afraid I don't have good news."
John sat by Sam's bed, removing a stray strand of hair from his son's brow. Sam spent two nights in the ICU, fighting for his life. The loss of blood was his greatest problem. The doctors told John that Sam went into shock halfway through the surgery. But he was getting better now, and that was all that mattered. The doctors had been very worried when Sam didn't respond, when he wouldn't wake up after the surgery. They tried changing his medication, but it didn't work. John sat by his side, begging him to wake up, but Sam didn't seem to hear him. It wasn't until Sam heard Dean's voice that he finally opened his eyes. Things got better much quicker after that.
Sam was still weak, still heavily sedated, but the doctors promised John that he was going to make a full recovery.
John sat there now, by his side, watching him. Dean was sleeping in the next bed, also medicated to ease his pain. They told John that Dean could be released that night, but they allowed him another couple of days when John had told them it was just him and the boys, and that there will be no one at home to take care of Dean. He refused to listen to Dean's protests that he was quite capable of looking after himself. John had no doubt about that, but his children were hurt. All he wanted was for them to be safe, and in his reach. Besides, Dean's complaints lessened considerably when he met the cute candy striper that worked on that floor. John smiled at the memory.
Sam groaned, opening his eyes. It was three in the morning, but John couldn't bring himself to sleep. Noticing Sam's movement, John straitened in his seat, leaning forward and stroking his son's mane. Sam coughed and John was quick to help him up a little and hand him a glass of water, bringing it closer to his younger son's lips and helping him drink. Sam looked tiredly at John and licked his dry lips, resting his head back on his pillow.
"Daddy?" he asked in a small voice. John smiled at him. Sam was still out of it most of the time, even when he was awake.
"I'm right here, son." John said, gently squeezing Sam's hand.
"Something's wrong." Sam said.
"I know, Sammy, but don't worry. I'm here. Everything's going to be all right, I promise." John said softly.
"Daddy?"
"You should try to rest now, Sammy." John told his youngest.
"It came after me." Sam said in a semi-urgent, semi-dreamy voice.
"I know it did, kiddo." John said.
"But why? I don't understand."
"It's evil, Sammy. It doesn't need a reason." John explained patiently, "It hurts people. That's what it does."
"Dad?" Sam's voice was hoarse. He was still weak.
"Shh, son, you really need to rest." John said.
"It did something to me, dad. Something's wrong." Sam insisted.
"I know, kid. But you're at the hospital now, and the doctors took very good care of you. You're going to be just fine." John said in a quiet voice, stroking his son's hair.
"Is Dean okay?" Sam asked. John glanced behind him at his oldest son, sleeping peacefully, with the help of the painkillers.
"Yes, Sammy. Dean's okay." He said.
"He promised he would protect me." Sam said weakly.
"He tried, Sammy. But I'm here now. I'm protecting you now. The both of you." John promised him. Sam shook his head tiredly.
"But he can't, dad. Dean can't protect me." Sam said weakly.
"Sammy," John sighed, thankful Dean hadn't heard what Sam had just said. "You need to rest now. You're safe. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."
"It's coming back." Sam insisted, "It's coming for Dean." Sam looked at John. "It promised." He said. John froze, swallowing hard, feeling his stomach colliding with his heart somewhere in the vicinity of his throat as he began to realize his youngest son wasn't talking about the creature that nearly claimed his life. "It didn't… It doesn't want to kill him. It wants him. It's going to come back for us, dad." Sam said, looking fearfully at his father. "I'm scared." He added in a small voice. This wasn't right. Sam was just delusional from the medication. It wasn't possible. Sam was six months old, for crying out loud, it couldn't be!
"What are you talking about Sammy?" John demanded, but Sam didn't answer. His look went past John, and John followed his son's look, back over his shoulder, to Dean. "Sam?"
"It did something to me." Sam said, looking back at John with glazed eyes, "And it's coming back." He added. "I'm scared."
John knew what his greatest weakness was. He had known it for years. Had he been able to overcome his weakness, he probably would have killed that bastard that took Mary from him a long time ago. But John was beginning to realize something went wrong with the hunt. Somewhere along the line, someone, something else obviously found out what John's weakness was. Every time John had come close to finding out what did this to his family, it would threaten his children. For some reason, it wanted them. And it still haunted them. John wanted, no, needed to avenge Mary's death. But more than that, he needed to protect his children.
So, once again, he packed up his boys and ran.
TBC
A/N: First of all, thanks so much to everyone that reviewed. I didn't have the time to answer you all, but you totally rock! Thanks to H.T Marie for the jackal/coyote note. I tried to fix it. And see the little thing I did with the title there? Bet you didn't see that coming...lol. And I've already started the next chapter. It should be... smashing. I'll leave you to think about what that's supposed to mean. Reviews make me happy...
