Chapter 17:

John broke every traffic law getting them to the nearest motel. He knew enough medically to know that his boys were going to survive. They were in bad shape and would need bed rest for a while to come, but they would live. They didn't need a hospital. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. But every time he glanced at them, he became more unsure. Sam was had been physically beaten and he was sure his son had a major concussion. But at least every so often he opened his eyes and looked toward his Dad. Of course, his eyes were unfocused and he passed back out almost immediately, but he did open them. Dean on the other hand hadn't even stirred. John's mind was ablaze with worry over what those electric shocks had done to him. As much as he tried to stop the memory he kept flashing back to Sam's phone call the last time Dean had been electrocuted. No! Dean's heart was okay. It wasn't like that this time. He kept reassuring himself over and over. He could take care of his boys.

Finally after about a half hour the rundown motel came into view. John pulled up in front of the office, slamming on the brakes. He had to throw his arm across Sam to keep him from flying forward. Quickly he dug out a fake credit card and went inside to get a room. Thankfully the clerk was an old man and was tired, and didn't give John's haggard appearance a second glance. John raced back to the car and pulled it around back to their room. As he walked to the passenger side Sam began to stir.

"Dad?"

"I'm here Sam."

Sam blinked his eyes quickly a few times, trying to focus. "Where are we?"

John bent down and helped Sam out of the car to his feet. "At a motel. I just checked us in." He put a steadying arm around Sam's waist and led him to the door. He was thankful this was an old motel and used keys instead of those key cards. He hated those damn things. He could never get them to work. He flipped on the light when they made it through the door and deposited Sam on the first bed. Gently he helped him lay back. "Stay right here. I'm going to get your brother."

"Yes sir." Sam mumbled, out of habit, then let his head roll to the side and his eyes slide closed again as he relished being on the soft bed, and the soft feel of the pillow behind his head.

John opened the back door of the car and pulled Dean's arms until he was in a sitting position. Then he pulled him out of the car and slung him up over his shoulder in a fireman's hold. John was thankful it was such a late hour. He wasn't sure what explanation he would have came up with had someone saw him carrying two young men into a hotel room. Shoving the door closed with his foot he carried Dean to the other bed and laid him down.

For a moment John simply stood between his two boys and looked at them. He had to take a moment to get his emotions under control. He was useless to them if he was upset. Putting everything to the back of his mind, he set about to tend to his sons. He ran back out to the car retrieving the first aid kit. He opened it to check it and found everything fully stocked. He had taught his boys well.

He went to Sam first. As gently as he could he lifted Sam up and held him against his chest as he removed his jacket and shirt. Then he loosened his belt and removed his shoes and jeans. When Sam was left only in his boxers he rolled him over to his stomach. John's own stomach twisted into a knot at the site of the whip marks on his youngest's back. John wished for a moment that Wells had been human so he could have used his fists and beat him to death. As far as John was concerned, being salted and burned wasn't torture enough. Sighing loudly he got up and went into the bathroom. He filled the ice bucket with warm water and grabbed all the wash cloths and a couple of towels. He returned to Sam. He was thankful Sam was unconscious again. This was gonna hurt like a bitch.

First he wiped away the blood, then he disinfected the cuts. With a steady hand he threaded the needle and stitched the three worst wounds. He applied antibiotic cream and placed gauze along the cuts, taping it in place. He then rolled Sam back over and attended to the wound on his forehead. Thankfully that didn't require stitches. After making sure there were no more open wounds John gave his son the once over with his hands, checking for any broken bones. Sam moaned slightly when he ran his hands over his ribs, but not enough to signal anything broken. Besides his back and head Sam was just deeply bruised and roughed up. John was sure that within a couple of hours his son's body would be a mesh of black and blue. He made sure Sam was laying comfortably and pulled the covers up over him.

John first went into the bathroom and rinsed out the ice bucket adding fresh warm water. He then made his way to Dean. He had less open wounds than his brother, but he was also less responsive. His breathing was slow and his body weak and loose, pliable to every way John moved him. After addressing the minor cuts Dean had, he removed his clothing and covered him up the same way he had Sam.

John glanced at the clock and saw it was going onto 3:30 a.m. His own injuries were starting to grab his attention. After making sure the door was locked tight and a thin line of salt was placed in front, he checked on his boys again. Sam had moved around slightly, but was sleeping peacefully. Dean hadn't moved an inch, but his breathing seemed to be at a normal rate now. John decided this was as good as time as any to take a shower. He let the water turn as hot as it could. He stood under the hard spray and let it massage his aching muscles and wash away the grime of the night.

After showering he found himself a place in the most comfortable chair the room had to offer. He had brewed himself a strong cup of coffee and now sat sipping at it, determined to stay awake and keep an eye over his sons. Periodically Sam would begin to stir and mumble, waking up slightly. John immediately went to his side and placed a comforting hand on his chest murmuring words of comfort. After a while though, John could no longer hold his own eyes open, and sitting in his chair with his feet propped on Sam's bed, he fell asleep.

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Later the next day Sam had finally fully woken up. John had disappeared earlier that morning, making a trip to the corner market for some food and something to drink. When Sam was able to sit up and focus, John managed to get some juice and crackers into him.

"How you doing?" John asked him.

"Other than feeling like my head is going to implode, I'm all right."

"Lean forward, I need to check your back." John said, sitting next to Sam on the bed.

As he leaned forward Sam glanced over to Dean's still form on the next bed. "How is he?"

John didn't respond for a moment. He patted Sam lightly on the shoulder. "Your back's looking good. It should heal pretty well in a couple of days." He stood to walk away.

"Dad? How is he?" Sam asked again.

John looked over at Dean and then back to Sam. "He'll be fine Sam. His body is just letting him sleep it off."

Sam wasn't sure if he believed his Dad or not. Dean didn't look well. His face was pale and he looked like a rag doll just lying there. "Has he woken up at all since we've been here?"

John sighed, "No Sam. But don't worry. Both of you are going to be just fine."

Sam nodded, feeling sleep begin to pull at him again. As much as he wanted to stay awake and talk to his Dad, revel in the moment because they were finally together, his eyes wouldn't cooperate. He laid his head back with a sigh and soon was dead to the world.

John sat and released a heavy sigh. His boys would be fine. He was sure of it. But there was also something else he was sure of. The longer he stayed, the more danger he placed them in. He thanked everything good that he had ran into his boys at that house. He would never be able to express how his heart broke for them when he saw them. He would never be able to express how thankful he was that someone was watching over all of them the other night and let them all out alive. He would never be able to express how good it felt to be in the same room with them. And he would never be able to express how it was going to break his heart when he had to leave, again.

Going through the drawer of the nightstand, he found a pad and a pen. His had trembled slightly as he held the pen. With water eyes, he began to write. He might be planning on sneaking out again, but this time he wasn't leaving his boys without a word.

-TBC-

Okay all, next chapter...the conclusion! Sorry if this chapter was boring. Things are always different in my head. But the next chapter will be full of that wonderful thing we all love...angst and brotherly love! lol