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Chapter Five

Casualty of Words

By Dawn Nyberg

"There will be no consolation prize, this time the bone is broken clean, no baptism, no reprise, and no sweet taste of victory. All the stars have fallen from the sky and everything else in between. Satellites have closed their eyes, the moon has gone to sleep…" Lyrics excerpt by Jann Arden, Unloved

Sue stepped back inside Sam's ICU room. "Dean?"

"Yeah," he answered absently not taking his eyes off his brother's face.

"You're father," she began. Dean jerked his head up his eyes wide. "No…No," she assured quickly. "He's fine. He's awake and has asked to see 'his boys'." Dean noticeably relaxed.

"Does he know about…" his voice trailed off as his eyes settled once again on his brother.

"No, but he's fully awake now, albeit a little groggy from the drugs, but coherent."

"I want to see him."

"I thought you'd say that, but I'm keeping my eye on you, and I'm not letting you visit very long. You need your rest, as well."

"Yeah-yeah," Dean said with a sly smile.

"Don't yeah-yeah, me mister."

"Yes, ma'am."

"That's more like it." She laughed lightly. "It's a good thing you're only a couple rooms up or down from your dad and brother … easy commute," she offered with a smile trying to assuage Dean's heavy thoughts. Sue rolled Dean into John's room. The elder Winchester opened his eyes as he heard someone enter his room. His eyes fell on Dean sitting in a wheel chair. His firstborn looked tired, and pale. He saw the IV pole and the signs of gauze under his gown.

"Son? Are you okay?" His voice was thick with concern.

"I'm okay, Dad." John looked at Sue when Dean's answer was obviously a lie.

"He had surgery to correct a punctured lung, and a nicked artery. He also had to receive two blood transfusions, and should be in bed, but a short visit should be okay." She conceded quickly. "I'll leave you two men alone for a bit," she patted Dean on the shoulder before leaving.

"Dean? Son, are you really up to talking I don't want to take any chances with your health." He studied his son for a long moment. "So, where is that brother of yours keeping himself? He has to be driving you nuts with his hovering by now, huh?" He said with a smile. Dean raised stricken eyes to his father at the mention of Sammy, but then he remembered what Sam had said before he collapsed that their father hadn't wanted to see him, even blamed him. He hadn't been able to believe that and wanted to give his Dad the benefit of the doubt. "Dean? What is it?"

"Dad," he began. "I have one thing I want to ask you and I want the truth." Dean was suddenly all business as he buried thoughts of Sam a couple doors down being kept alive by machines.

"What is it?" John could see the urgency in his son's face.

"Did you turn Sammy away? Tell him you didn't want to see him? Blame him for not," he lowered his voice. "For not killing you?" Dean saw the briefest of looks cross his father's face, and he knew the truth even before John Winchester answered the question. "You bastard!" Dean shouted before he could stop himself. Suddenly the nurse's station outside his father's room grew very quiet.

"Watch your tone," John hissed. "And, lower your voice."

"Screw you," Dean ground out with a lowered voice. "He came to you for acceptance Dad, and you turned him away. How could you?"

"I was wrong, Dean." John paused. "I'd like to blame it on the meds, but I won't. I was angry, but the words all came out wrong."

"How could you blame him for not doing what you wanted, what you asked him to do?"

"Dean."

"No! How could you ask him to?" he lowered his voice to a mere whisper. "To kill you? Huh? Do you know what that would have done to him Dad? Do you! It would have destroyed him. You only think about yourself and what you want," Dean barked. "This damn revenge is all you care about."

"That's not true," John tried to calm the situation.

"Yes, it is," Dean leveled a hard glare at his father.

"I've made mistakes with you boys … I know I have. But, I want to try to…"

"Fuck you," Dean snapped. "Now, suddenly you're going to try to be father of the year," the sarcasm in Dean's voice was thick. "Sam and I do just fine on our own. We always have!" John felt like he had been slapped across the face when Dean spoke those words. It was the truth though, he had drug his boys all over when they were little while he hunted and continued his search for the demon that killed Mary, and had left them alone for days in motel rooms while he hunted. He had been a miserable father when it was all boiled down. His priorities had been screwed up, of course he had tried to justify his actions by saying he was keeping his boys alive, and making them prepared, but he had robbed them of their childhoods.

"You're right," John offered suddenly to his obviously enraged son. "But, I can try to make things right."

"You can't, Dad. You know I said things to Sammy, too. I was an ass, I admit that. But, somehow what you did is so much worse," he started. "You're his father, the parent and, what you demanded not asked of him in that cabin was unforgivable."

"I'll set things right with him Dean. It'll be okay," John offered.

"You can't." Dean said dropping his eyes as his enraged façade began to fall away as his emotions rose up again.

"Yes, I can," John began. "Get Sammy in here. I'll talk to him. I'll make things right."

"You can't!" Dean shouted once again not caring that others might hear.

"Why? Where's Sam? Just have him come in here. Dean?" John looked at Dean and saw the raw emotion in his face. "Where is your brother," his voice dropped to a lower octave laced with a sudden fear.

"He collapsed," Dean began with a broken voice. "His brain…" he couldn't finish.

"Dean? What's wrong with your brother?" Dean couldn't find the words. "Jesus, say something. What's wrong with Sammy?" Something in Dean snapped. He reached over and shoved the small plastic water container on John's bed table toward his father dousing him with water.

"He might die! That's what the fuck is wrong with him," Dean screamed. "He's on just about every machine they have in this god forsaken hospital." Sue came running in at the prolonged yelling and the sound of the plastic pitcher hitting the floor and skittering across the white tiles. "You bastard… don't you dare act like you care now," Dean spat.

"Dean, please, you need to calm down," Sue urged as she tried to wheel him away from his father's bedside.

"You stay away from him, do you hear me. We don't need you!" Dean continued to shout as Sue forcibly wheeled Dean out of the room and didn't stop until she had reached Dean's room.

John Winchester sat in stunned silence for a long moment, and then pressed his call button. Alexa, his nurse walked in. "Is everything okay?" She had heard the yelling, but didn't want to pry.

"I want to speak with my son's doctor. Sam Winchester's doctor."

"I'll have him paged." John nodded.

Dean's ICU Room

"What were you thinking Dean?" Sue chastised as she helped him back into his bed. "Let me answer that for you…" she stopped Dean before he could say anything. "You didn't think. Do you know you could have pulled your sutures carrying on like that, do you!"

"Stop talking to me like I'm some little kid," Dean barked. He bristled at Sue's words. "You don't even know anything about my family. So, don't tell me how to act. That bastard is lucky that I couldn't stand up long enough to take a swing at him." Dean turned his face away from Sue in anger. She walked purposely over to the door and closed it. She turned back toward Dean. She walked up to his bed and slapped a piece of the mattress jarring Dean.

"Now, you listen here!" Her eyes were blazing. "I'm not going to tolerate you flapping your mouth at me because you're acting like some indignant child. I know you have a lot on your plate, I do. I know you're so tied up in knots over your little brother that you can hardly concentrate on anything else. And, you're right, I don't have a clue about your family, but what I do know is that man, your father obviously cares for you and Sam. I can see it in his eyes, and maybe you have every reason to be angry, but to disrupt an entire unit that might I add has some very sick patients in it, including yourself and your family. You're in no shape to spouting of at your father even if he deserves whatever you think he deserves. The whole unit could hear you," her words were flooding out of her like a waterfall. This young man was driving her to distraction. She found herself carrying too much for him and his younger sibling. And, she tried so hard to never take her work home with her at night, but these boys and their situation had given her some sleepless night, as of late. "What if your brother heard you yelling at your father?"

Dean's eyes darted to Sue's and she saw devastation in them. "Is he okay? I didn't make him worse?" She saw a shudder work its way through Dean, and she pulled a blanket up over his legs.

"Dean, shh…" her voice was suddenly soft and comforting. "Calm down. I did a vitals check while you were with your father. He's fine. It's just that I believe coma patients are able to hear a lot of what is going on around them, and recognize the voices of people they know. And, I don't think that if he did catch wind of some of your yelling that he would find much comfort in it."

"I'm sorry," his voice shook. "I'd never do anything to hurt Sam, never."

"I know. I'm sorry, it's just you scared me by getting so worked up. I'd hate to see you take a step back in your recovery. You need to think about yourself, too, you know? Because if the doctor doesn't think you're up for visiting Sam he'll cut you off."

"I know. I got it."

John Winchester's ICU Room, Two Hours Later

John sat in stunned silence after listening to his youngest son's condition. Dr. Kendrick had been blunt, and said that Sam chances of a meaningful recovery were unlikely. It had bothered John more than he admitted that the doctor had basically given up on Sammy. The man could have said slim chance but instead had used unlikely which felt as though he had all ready signed off on Sam. He couldn't believe that there was no hope, not yet, at least. He'd get second and third opinions if he had, too. He pressed his call button.

"Hi, Mr. Winchester, what can I get you?" Alexa asked with a smile.

"I want to see my son." Alexa nodded and went about getting John a wheelchair. And twenty minutes later they were on their way. John was glad that his room was a couple up on the other side of Sam's room, and meant he wouldn't have to be wheeled by Dean's room that was two down from Sam's on the other side.

John sat solemnly at his son's bedside holding his cool, limp hand. Alexa had pointed out most of what Sue had pointed out and explained to Dean. John felt overwhelmed that he'd basically been given something akin to an orientation on medical equipment and IV drugs. He stared at his young son's features, and felt lost. "Sammy?" His voice was gentle. "It's Dad. I'm here, kiddo." He reached up and stroked Sam's face avoiding the tube jutting from his child's mouth. He tried desperately to avoid watching the mechanical rise and fall of his son's chest. He found himself staring at the protruding ICP catheter coming from Sam's head. He glanced at the number on the gauge and settled his eyes back on his youngest child's face. "I said some things the other day Sam that I shouldn't have," he spoke quietly. "I didn't mean any of it. But, I'll make you a deal … if you wake up and prove these damn doctors wrong I'll let you rip me a new one like your brother did." A ghost of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as the thought of Sammy ranting at him entered his mind. The kid did have a fire in his belly, and a temper like his old man's when he got fired up.

"You gotta come through this Sammy," John urged. "Open your eyes." All was stillness, and Sam didn't move. John sat at Sam's side in silence as he continued to methodically stroke the back of his son's hand with a thumb.

"Mr. Winchester," Alexa's voice pulled him from his thoughts. He looked at her. "I should get you back to your room." He reluctantly released Sam's hand.

"All right, but I want to see him again later."

"We'll work something out," she assured.

Later that Evening

Sue and Alexa had tried to choreograph the visiting in Sam's room, both women afraid of another confrontation. But, when Alexa was called to cover a new admit John's care was turned over to Michelle who just started her shift, and she wasn't up to speed on the visiting arrangements for Sam's room. However, she knew that his son's were ICU patients. So, when John asked to see his son she haply agreed. Dean looked up as his father was rolled into the room. He bristled at the sight of him. Dean tightened his grip on Sam's hand, as if staking his claim. John noticed. "Thanks Michelle," John replied.

"You're welcome. I'll be back in a bit to take you back. Oh, hello," she said to Dean noticing him as she turned around.

"Hi," he offered as he ignored his father on the other side of Sammy's bed.

"You must be his brother," she commented as she looked at Sam. Dean nodded. "Okay, then. I guess I better go check on a couple patients. I'll be back, Mr. Winchester." John acknowledged her with a nod and slight smile. The room fell into silence except for the sound of the equipment filling the room.

"Dean?" John spoke softly.

"Not here Dad," Dean made sure his voice was quiet. "It's not good for him to hear us fight." Dean stroked the side of Sam's arm softly. He didn't care about keeping up pretenses in front of his father. Sue had said that contact was good for Sam when she had left Dean here for his second visit. Contact and talking were good, so that's what he'd do.

"I don't want to fight with you, son" John offered lightly. "I know you're angry with me, and I accept that, but we should try to make this work for Sammy's sake." His voice was a mere whisper. Dean met his father's eyes and gave him a curt nod. It seemed an unspoken truce had been agreed to between father and son for the time being. "Hi Sammy, it's Dad again," John reached up and grasped Sam's fingers loosely being mindful of the IV in the back of his hand. "I spoke with his doctor today."

"And?" Dean kept his eyes on his little brother's face.

"I want a second or third opinion," he replied without saying anything negative in front of Sam. Dean looked at his father now knowing he had been given the same line he had from the doctor that Sam wasn't going to come back from this, not even if he woke up. And, he had decided that no matter what he was sticking to his belief in his brother that Sam wasn't lost, and there was hope. He would never give up on his little brother, never.

"Well, at least we agree about something." His voice keeping a steady tone. "Sue said talking and physical contact was good for Sammy." John smiled at his firstborn.

"At least that's something we can do," he replied keeping his tone light. "Sam will have his own personal tag team." Dean offered his father a pensive smile. Well, that's better than nothing, I guess, John thought to himself. John stroked Sam's fingers, "Sammy?" he began. "Did I ever tell you when you were three what you did to your brother while he was sleeping?" John smiled at the memory. Dean did, too. The two Winchester men had found their lighthouse in the stormy ocean of their relationship, and it was Sam. But, as with all approaching weather systems, there is always a calm before the storm, and for the Winchesters their storm hadn't truly hit yet, but it would.

To Be Continued

Well, is this losing steam for you? Should I cast this story to the land of 'delete file'? Let me know what you think. Like, hate, indifferent, disappointed, or bored? I appreciate every review that a reader takes the time to leave. Thanks again!