John Winchester came close to losing his children more than once.
Chapter Six: The car - Part One
Dean was absolutely beaming. His look passed from his not so little brother to his father and back.
"So, what do you think?" he asked, his voice filled with pride. John smiled, his mind racing, trying to think of the right words to say, and the best way to say them, but Sam bit him to the punch.
"What the hell is that?" he asked in disgust. Dean frowned.
"What do you mean? It's my new car!" he exclaimed. Both John and Sam gave the small, rusted car another look.
"That's no car. That's what cars throw up when they feel bad." Sam said, and John had to force himself not to laugh. Dean glowered angrily at him.
"It's…" John tried, but couldn't really say what he wanted to say. Truth was it was a total junk of a car, probably held together by the amounts of scotch-tape and bumper stickers. John ran his hand on the car, quickly wiping the rust that was left on his hand on his jeans. "You had a mechanic look at it before you got it, right?" he asked, getting a glare of his own from his oldest son.
"It's a perfectly good car! And It's mine!" he said indignantly.
"You mind if I have a look under the hood? You know, just to be on the safe side." John asked. Dean clenched his jaw.
"I already checked. There's nothing wrong with it." He said.
"If you don't mind the fact that it will melt in the rainor fall apart in the first traffic light." Sam teased him, a wicked grin on his face. "I think it would be best to just shoot it and end its misery." Sam added. He was only fifteen years old, but he was already as tall as Dean, and it seemed like he was still growing.
"That's it! You're never getting in my car!" Dean snapped at him.
"Was that supposed to be a threat?" Sam laughed, and then quickly ran back in the motel room, seeing the angry look on Dean's face.
"It's a good car!" Dean protested. John smiled at him, putting his hand on his son's shoulder.
"I'm still gonna check it myself if you don't mind." He said, "After all, it is supposed to carry a very important, one of a kind, cargo. Isn't it?" he added with a disarming smile. Dean let out an exasperated sigh.
"Fine!" he said, propping the hood up, "But there's nothing wrong with it. I already checked, I told you." And as much as John didn't want to admit it, he had to agree with his son. The exterior of the car may have looked like it would be better to just exorcise the thing, just to be on the safe side, but the engine seemed new and the brakes were fine. John gave the car a thorough examination, finally clearing it and congratulating his son on his first car.
It was almost midnight on a Friday night, but Dean had always been popular with the ladies, so John didn't mind it when he stayed out late. He was nineteen, after all. Sam came back from his own date just an hour ago. John really wasn't worried. He just hoped Dean wouldn't do anything stupid. They have been fighting lately. John was less then pleased to find his son following his footsteps with the drinking, too, but Dean insisted that as long as John kept drinking, he had no right to preach against it. Truth was, neither of them was drinking all that much. John allowed himself to get drunk only once or twice a year, and Dean seemed to know his own limit, but still, John didn't like it.
John sat on the couch, channel surfing, not really paying attention to what was playing on the TV. He was starting to nod off, but he didn't want to go to sleep until Dean came home. He always waited up for his sons, even when Dean would stay out all night. John knew his boys were growing up, but he couldn't bring himself to stop worrying, and not only because of all the things that were out there in the dark.
He yawned, and for the slightest moment considered going back to his research, but quickly dismissed the thought. He was too tired. He allowed himself to nod off again, knowing Dean wasn't likely to be back for a while.
And then the phone rang, waking John up. He glanced at his watch. It was a quarter to one in the morning. Who, the hell, was calling at one in the morning, he thought resentfully as he yawned again and picked up the phone.
"Mr. Winchester?" it was an old woman's voice. John rubbed his red eyes.
"Yeah?"
"My name is Julia, I'm a nurse here at County. I'm afraid there's been an accident…" and the sleep was gone.
John ran inside the hospital, Sam at his heel. He found the admissions desk and asked to see his son. He was amazed at the calm manner in which the clerk looked through his computer, looking for his son's name ever so slowly. John tapped his fingers nervously on the desk.
"Yes, Dean Winchester." The clerk told him, "He was brought here two hours ago. Looks like he's still in surgery." He told John.
"Two hours ago!" John exploded. "Then why the hell didn't anyone call me two hours ago!" he demanded.
"Surgery waiting room's two floors up." The clerk said callously. John was just about to reach over and strangle him, but Sam put a restraining hand on his shoulder.
"Dad, come on." He said, heading for the elevator.
A young woman with eyes red from crying came slowly over to where John and Sam where sitting, waiting nervously for any piece of information.
"M-Mister Winchester?" she seemed vaguely familiar, but John couldn't remember who she was. "I'm Nissi," she introduced herself, "I… I was with Dean…" and she started crying again. "It was so horrible!" John got quickly to his feet. The woman didn't seem to have a scratch on her.
"What happened?" he demanded. Finally, someone was going to give him some answers.
"I don't…" she shook her head. "We had this fight. It was so stupid, but he got upset and said we should call it a night, so we left and he took me back home. He dropped me off." she said, her words swallowed in a fit of sobs. "And then I heard it…" she cried, "Some jerk ran a red light. I was so scared, I thought Dean was dead for sure. There's no way… I have no idea how he could have survived that crash." She said and went into another fit of sobbing. Sam got to his feet, looking fearfully at John.
"Nissi, did Dean… was he drinking?" John asked nervously.
"What? No!" she said quickly, "He was so proud of his sardine-can-on-wheels of his. He didn't even have a beer or anything."
The other driver, on the other hand, had three times the legal amount of alcohol in his blood. He barely had a scratch on him.
Dean spent the night in the ICU, and underwent another surgery in the following morning. The doctors told John they were doing everything they could, but gave him the feeling he shouldn't keep his hopes up. Dean's injuries were extensive and serious. He spent three nights on life-support, and neither John nor Sam left his side for a second.
Dean was finally starting to get better on the fourth day. He didn't need life support anymore, but they still left a tube down his throat, to help him breathe more easily. The doctors were still very worried by the fact that he hasn't fully regained consciousness yet. He would wake up for a couple of minutes every now and then, but he would quickly pass out again.
After the fifth day, John told Sam he should be going back to school, but Sam wouldn't listen. He didn't want to leave Dean alone in the hospital. John tried to explain that he wasn't going anywhere, and that Dean wouldn't be alone, but Sam just used that as an excuse, saying that if John wasn't going to leave, than he certainly wasn't going to.
John got up from his seat, stretching his cramped muscles and walking around the room to get the blood flowing again. Sam was sleeping uneasily, trying to readjust his long limbs in the small, uncomfortable hospital chair. The soft beeping sound of the heart monitor was monotonous. It was easy to get used to it. John barely noticed it now. Dean's chest was rising and falling slowly in his sleep. The bruises on his son's handsome face were beginning to fade, but Dean was still fighting for his life. John knew that if there was one thing he had taught his son well, it was to fight. Dean would make it. He had to. There was no way John could stand to lose him, too.
John needed a drink, but there was no place to get liquor in the hospital, and until everything was all right with Dean, John wasn't going anywhere.
He checked again to make sure both his sons were sleeping before he went to get a cup of coffee. The machine closest to Dean's room was broken. He had to find another one. The night nurse was glad to help.
John drank the hot coffee, grimacing at the taste. The night nurse smiled at him in understanding. She asked him how his sons were doing. He liked that she was interested in both his sons. And he suspected his sons weren't the only ones the woman was interested in. John played along, flirting with her a little, trying to get some more information and a few more perks for Sam; like an extra blanket or a pillow. Hey, flirting worked for Dean, why shouldn't it work for his old man, right?
The night nurse promised she would do her best to see if she could find a room with a spare bed Sam could crash in, and then left to her duties. John checked her out as she left. Not quite his taste, but not so bad, either. He started back to Dean's room. He knew something was wrong even before he got there. It took him a second to figure out what it was. The heart monitor. John dropped the plastic coffee cup to the floor and started running. And then the lights flickered. Shit! Shit, shit, shit! John skidded to a halt, nearly missing Dean's room, and got inside. His heart pounded as the lights flickered again, and the heart monitor beeped quicker and an alarm started to go off.
Someone, a broad-shouldered man, was hunched over Dean's body. John cursed, wishing he had his gun with him. He was about to jump at the man when he heard it. Mary's voice. The man bending over his son was speaking in Mary's voice! John froze, stunned.
"It's okay, Dean. I'm here now, love." The man said in Mary's voice, caressing Dean's forehead, and the heart monitor flashed in alarm. Dean's heart rate was plummeting. "That's right, love. You're safe. I'm here, like I promised." The man went on, apparently oblivious to the fact that John was back in the room. "It's time, Dean." Mary's soft voice was cradling. "I know," The man said after a moment, as though hearing Dean speaking back to him. "But Sammy can't come now. I know you don't want to leave without him, but it's time." The man caressed Dean's cheek and the heart monitor's alarmscreamed, the monitor showing a flat line. John's eyes widened, his mind screamed. He sucked in his breath. "That's right, love. Time to go. We'll be back for Sammy soon enough, I promise, but you must come first." The man said in satisfaction, glancing Sam's way.
"Hey!" John shouted. The man turned his head quickly, but the light flickered again, and John couldn't see his face. With one flowing motion, the man pulled the curtain around Dean's bed, concealing them both from John. John rushed to his son's side, pulling on the curtain. But the man was gone. John watched the heart monitor in horror, sickened by the long beeping sound and the flat line it showed. "I need help in here!" John screamed at the top of his lungs, his own heart still trying to decide whether to leap out of his throat or give out altogether. Sam woke with a start, looking at his father. He jumped out of the chair when he realized what John had been looking at.
"Dean!" he cried out. "God, no! Dean!" he quickly rushed to Dean's side, taking his big brother's hand in his. "No, Dean, you can't! You can't leave me!" Sam screamed at his unconscious brother. "Dean, please!" and the lights flickered again. And the heart monitor showed one, tiny, sinus wave. And then another. Dean's chest rose slightly. And then half a dozen people rushed in the room, pushing John and Sam aside as they revived Dean.
John held Sam in his arms, watching helplessly as the doctors tried to save his son. But it wasn't their job to save him. It was John's. He held Sam tighter, kissing the top of his younger son's head as they both watched Dean's heart rate slowly rising. Sam hugged his father back, crying.
"It's okay, Sammy." John whispered to his son. "He'll be fine. He's not going anywhere." John promised. Time for work. That thing wasn't going to have another chance to take his son. Neither of his sons.
TBC
A/N: Don't really have any. Reviews are always appriciated.
