Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

Chapter Twelve

Fences

By Dawn Nyberg

"Spend all your time waiting for that second chance. For a break that would make it okay. There's always one reason to feel not good enough. And, it's hard at the end of the day I need some distraction, oh beautiful release. Memory seeps from my veins let me be empty, and weightless and maybe, I'll find some peace tonight…" Excerpt by Sarah McLachlan, Angel

Four Months Later

Burlington, Colorado, Red Horse Motel

John Winchester sat at the table in his motel room finishing the cleaning of his final weapon. He had met up with six other fellow hunters to clear out a werewolf infestation outside the city. The hunt had managed to keep his mind off his boys, but now that he was alone in his motel room his mind filled with thoughts of them once again. He leaned forward and rested his face in his hands for a long moment. He sighed and leaned away from his hands and stared at his cell phone. There had been so many times he wanted to call Dean and just hear his son's voice and see how he was doing. He wanted to know about Sammy, but hearing what he believed he would, he just couldn't bring himself to call the rehab center to say either Sam had made no more improvements in their care or had been discharged to a long term care facility. Sam had been discharged from the hospital to the rehab center seven months ago, and John's mind reeled with the thoughts of what Dean has been dealing with while he went on hunts and stayed away unable to face Sam's situation.

And, he was certain that by now Dean would have had to find a state facility to take Sam, and part of him wanted desperately to know because he knew Dean would be devastated after finally admitting that Sammy was lost to them. He got up and turned on the clock radio in his room hoping that music would distract his mind for a bit. He clicked it on and a quiet ballad emitted from the speakers, and normally he would have changed the station to his preferred country music, but there was something that caught his ear, and he listened as the song played. His ears picking out certain parts and in some way he felt as if it were speaking to him, and maybe it was.

"…From this dark cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear. You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie … so tired of the straight line, and everywhere that you turn. There's vulture's and thieves at your back and a storm keeps on twisting. You keep on building the lie that you make up for all that you lack. It don't make no difference escaping one last time. It's easier to believe in this sweet madness, oh this glory and sadness that brings me to my knees … You're in the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort there …"

The song ended and John reached a hand up and scrubbed away the wetness on his face. "Mary, what have I done? I left our boys alone. I left Dean to deal with Sammy on his own. I have failed you and our children." He voice broke with emotion as he spoke to an empty room. "I just couldn't see our baby boy like that Mary, our Sammy. And, Dean, he was so strong. He never wavered, but I did. I wasn't strong enough for my children." He sat heavily down on the bed next to the clock radio for a moment, and then just as quickly he rose up and began packing up his things. And, as he finished with the last item he scanned the room to make sure he had everything. "I'm going to do right by our boys Mary. I know I'll be the last person Dean wants to see, but I have to make things right again between the two of us, and I can't let Sammy go, I won't." He opened the door to leave, "I'm coming boys," he said under his breath as he walked toward his truck.

He still couldn't bring himself to call the rehab to see if Sam had been transferred, but he'd call Larry and discretely ask if Dean had taken a job at the shop. He knew Larry would keep the phone call private if he asked him to. After all, the man knew that he had had a bit of a falling out with his eldest child. He pulled the truck into traffic and headed for the interstate. He was headed back to Jefferson City, Missouri and his boys.

Meanwhile, Ivy Ridge

"Man, Sammy," Dean said as he walked out of his brother's bathroom drying his hands with a paper towel. "I can't believe Dr. Myer's said she's going to release you in two weeks."

"It's been seven months Dean. W…w… what did you think," Sam started. "I was gonna live here or s … s… some … thing?"

"Nah, you know what I mean Sammy," Dean countered. "It's just great that you're finally getting paroled," he joked. Sam chuckled.

"Well, it h…h…has…" he let out a frustrated sigh, and tried again. Dean waited with a warm smile. "it has… hasn't been like jail."

"Yeah, I know. I don't even like to think about where'd we be if we hadn't ended up here." Dean paused. "And, hey, I'm looking at some places today, now I may not find the perfect place today, but I'm looking. My place is way too small, and I can't have you come home to an apartment the size of a closet. I promise I'll have something by the time you're sprung, okay?"

"You d…d…don't have t…t…to." Sam replied. "Small is okay."

"Nah, Sammy. Trust me it's too small. We'll kill each other in there. Don't worry okay. I'm ready for a bigger place." Sam just nodded. He knew when it was pointless to try to get his brother to reconsider a decision once it had been made.

Sam looked at his brother. Dean had changed a lot over the last few months. His hair had grown out a little more; he apparently no longer felt the need to keep a clean almost military cut. His attitude was still completely Dean Winchester, the broad smile, the quick wit, but he had grown older, and Sam knew the added responsibility of his rehabilitation had pushed the older sibling into full adulthood. Sam felt as though Dean had given up too much for him, but he tried to work as hard as he could at his rehab because he could see how happy it made his brother. But, in truth he wanted to fight to regain his life, too. He still became frustrated at the language problems, but they were vastly improved from four months ago, and sometimes the words flowed with no difficulty. However, he hated that when he still got upset that his words would resort to broken sentences. He swung his legs over the side of his bed.

"You need help?" Dean moved quickly to his little brother's side.

"Dean," Sam's voice was ever patient with his coddling brother. "I've been doing this on my own now for two months. I have PT with Mel, and I walk to the gym."

"Yeah, I know," Dean relented. "It's just…"

"I know I still stum…ble now and again, but I can do it."

"I know." Dean replied. His eyes diverted from his brother's. Sam smiled at his big brother.

"You wanna walk with me to the gym?" Sam suggested. "I know you've got about ten minutes to kill before you meet April for lunch in the dining hall," Sam winked at Dean.

"Hey," Dean chided at the wink. "You're the one that's been pushing us to get together more often," Dean countered.

"You s..s..spend too much t…t…time with me," Sam inserted. "I want y…y…you to have f…f…fun."

Dean turned serious eyes to his brother's. He put a stopping hand on his brother's shoulder to prevent him from rising from his bed. "Hold up there cowboy," Dean's face serious. "You've been in rehab for seven months, Sammy. You're recovering from a head injury that nearly killed you. The time I have spent with you is because we're brothers, and you're my family." Dean studied Sam's face. "I don't want that head of yours to start getting any ideas…" Sam looked at Dean his eyes betraying him. "Yeah, you know what I mean little brother. No guilt trips, you got it? You'd do the same for me and you know it."

"B..but…" Sam began and Dean cut him off with a raised hand.

"No, don't but me," Dean replied. "You would do the same. And, as far as fun goes … I have fun, but things change you know …"

"You take care me. No life. I hate that. M …m…. my fault."

"Sammy," Dean knew his brother was upset if his speech was beginning to spiral down into fractured sentences.

"No," Sam forced himself off the bed, and Dean stepped back. "You work all the t…t…time, and t…t…take care of me. Not fair t …t…to you."

"Sammy, look man, I haven't done anything I haven't wanted to okay? You're not some kind of burden or obligation if that's what you're getting at. I have a life, and I do get together with April once and a while, but look I got my priorities little brother, and right now that's seeing you get out of this place and into your out patient rehab. And, yeah, I work; Sammy, but I actually like it." He grinned at his brother. "Never thought you'd hear me say that did ya?"

Sam relented and a lopsided grin broke across his face. "You're really okay?" Sam asked his warm eyes taking on the lethal puppy look.

"Yeah, kiddo. I'm good. Now, I don't want to have this conversation again, all right?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

Sam started to leave his room to head to the rehab gym to meet Mel. "Hey, don't forget this." Dean offered as he handed Sam the three-prong cane they made him use since he still stumbled with his left side occasionally.

"I hate that thing."

"Yeah, well, you're not going to have to deal with it much longer. And, it's better than falling on your face."

"I d…d…don't even use it m…m…most of the time."

"Just humor me Sammy."

"Fine."

Dean and Sam walked together to the gym, and the older sibling saw his brother inside. "Hey Mel," Dean quipped.

"Hey yourself. Hi Sam!"

"Hi Mel." Sam smiled. He glanced at the large clock on the wall and turned to his brother. "You bet … better go," he encouraged. "A…Ap…April will be waiting." Dean rolled his eyes. Mel chuckled and stepped up to Dean lowering his voice.

"A little love in the afternoon, huh?" He said with a wily look in his eye.

"Damn, Mel," Dean feigned shock. "You're as bad as my geek brother. Give a guy a break. Blame this little get together on the match maker there," Dean said flipping a hand in his brother's direction. Sam just grinned, and ducked his head.

"Well, never keep a lady waiting," Mel countered with a grin. Dean made a grand motion of rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"I'm outta here," he replied. "Hey, Mel, you work him hard today."

"Not fair," Sam chided.

"Boys, boys," Mel reprimanded.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said heading for the door. "I'll see ya later Sammy."

"B…b… bye, Dean."

Interstate 70, a Gas Station Somewhere in Kansas

It was a Friday afternoon, and John knew Larry would be at the shop. John finished pumping his gas and paying for it. He twisted the top off a bottled water and took a long drink. He pulled his cell out and dialed the number to the shop.

"Jefferson City Auto Repair," John recognized the voice.

"Hi Larry," he paused for a moment, "its John Winchester."

"Hey, John," the man replied. "Long time no hear. How are ya?"

"Fine. I'm on my way back to Missouri actually. I should be there by tomorrow late afternoon. I was wondering if my son Dean ever took the job at the shop?"

"Sure did. That boy of yours is a good worker, and he knows his way around an engine. Thanks for suggesting him."

"I'm glad it worked out. So, is he there now?"

"Dean? Nah, he works Monday through Thursday for me and takes Friday and the weekends off."

"Oh, yeah, do you know where he's living these days. I tried to find a number for him, but…"

"No, he uses his cell phone. But, yeah, he's got himself a place up in Elston; it's about ten minutes or so outside town."

"Has he…" John paused. It felt strange to have to question someone else about the well-being of his own child. "Has he been okay? I mean, we haven't spoken."

"Well, that kid of yours keeps pretty busy between working for me, and spending time with his brother."

"He spends a lot of time with his younger brother."

"Oh sure, every chance he gets which is everyday," Larry chuckled. "And, especially since your youngest starting moving around." John's chest tightened.

"Moving around? You mean he's making movements?" There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Man, John, you really don't know? You know it's none of my business, but whatever beef you and your eldest have with one another should be water under the bridge. Life's too short, man."

"I know," John agreed. "What about my youngest? What about Sam? You said he was moving? I mean, the doctors said, he wouldn't recover enough to do even that …"

"Well, Dean sings that kid's praises everyday. I guess he's a regular miracle or something. I don't mean he's moving, moving," Larry interjected. "I mean that son of yours is walking and talking." John was glad he hadn't pulled back onto the road yet; otherwise, he knew he would have swerved off the interstate and probably wrapped himself around a tree.

"Oh, God, he's talking?" John voice was ragged. "How long?"

"I guess about six months now. He started coming out of his coma around the third week he was in that fancy rehab. And, if memory serves, I think around the second month he was in there they started getting him to try and speak. But, now I guess he's a regular chatterbox according to Dean."

"And he's walking?"

"Well, now he is," Larry answered. "Wasn't easy though from what Dean told me when I asked. But, he's up and around now. Dean's been pretty excited the last few days ever since that doctor taking care of your youngest plans on releasing him in another couple weeks, I think." John felt his world tilt.

"Larry would you happen to have Dean's address?"

"Sure," he answered. "And, it's a good thing you're coming when you are because I know that boy of yours is looking at new places to live, so when Sam is released they have a place big enough."

"So, Dean's staying in Missouri?"

"Yeah, he said Sam still needs a year of out patient therapy, so he's not moving. You want that address?"

"Yeah, I got a pen," John opened his small pad of paper."

"Okay, it's 1020 Sparrow Dr. Apt 10B Elston. You go that?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"That place is only about five minutes from the rehab center, so if you get lost just go to the center. I'm positive that's where Dean is most likely, and you can see your youngest."

"Yeah, well, I think I'm going to be on egg shells Larry. You know proceed with caution."

"I heard that. Hey, do me a favor and don't tell Dean I gave you his address. He really is a good kid, and I hate to lose him here at the shop."

"I'll keep it between us Larry."

"Thanks. Hey, you going to be needin' another job?"

"Probably, but I need to clear it with Dean first. I don't want to force myself in his face everyday if he's not up for it."

"Yeah, I hear ya. Well, if worse comes to worse, I got a brother who manages his own garage out over by the airport. He'd take you on, so let me know."

"Thanks Larry." John finished his conversation with the man, and closed snapped his cell closed. He sat there staring straight ahead his mind racing from what he had heard. He had another call to make, and this number was programmed into the phone, although he'd only used it twice. It rang once.

"Good Afternoon, Ivy Ridge Rehab Care Center this is Carrie, how may I direct your call?"

"Dr. Rose Myers, please."

"And, whom should I say is calling?"

"John Winchester. My son Sam Winchester is a patient of hers."

"Thank you, please hold."

"Mr. Winchester?" Dr. Myer's spoke.

"Dr. Myers, I wanted to check on my son Sam," he decided to play dumb, and not tell the doctor what he had just learned from Larry.

"It's been a while Mr. Winchester. I'm glad you called. Sam's doing wonderfully. I plan to release him in a couple weeks."

"Release him? He's functioning?" He was fishing for information, but still didn't want to tell the doctor he already knew. "I mean how is that possible? The doctors at the hospital said he was severely brain damaged and had no chance of a meaningful recovery. They wanted me to put him in long term care …"

"I know all of this must be quite a shock Mr. Winchester, but I assure you that Sam is improving by leaps and bounds. I couldn't be more pleased with his progress. He's a hard worker toward his recovery. I'm well aware of what the doctor's diagnosed and sometimes even experts can get it wrong. I was never sure what level of recovery Sam could achieve, but I was always confident we could give him some quality of life, although I was never certain of the extent until Sam came out of his coma like state. But, one thing I was absolutely certain of was that a long term care facility was not the place for him, and that is why I accepted his case."

"He's walking and talking?"

"Yes, he has daily therapies that range from physical therapy, speech, and occupational therapy. He works very hard."

"Sam was always a determined kid when he put his mind to it. How's his speech?"

"Well, it has been a tough road, but he can carry on a conversation now. He still experiences some speech deficits, but he continues to improve."

"Is my other son Dean with him?"

"Well, he was earlier, but I believe I saw him walking through the lobby on his way out about an hour ago. I know he's being very proactive about finding a place big enough for himself and Sam to live."

"Is Sam okay, though? I mean, I know you said he's walking, but…"

"He gets around better every day. There are still some issues that he's trying to overcome. The left side of his body was more heavily affected by his brain injury, but he is making great strides to work through those issues. He walks to the gym every day for his PT rather than being taken by wheelchair. He's a trooper."

"No other problems?"

"Well, a handful of months ago, he developed a type of seizure disorder called a Jacksonian seizure…"

"Seizure disorder!" John barked. Dr. Myer's voice softened.

"Mr. Winchester, your son Dean had the same reaction back when it first started, but I assured him then and I will you that this is not life threatening." Dr. Myer's went on to explain about the small lesion on Sam's brain, and the jerking of his left arm and hand, and she told him about future potential for other seizures. "And, it has been a transient problem, and so far we haven't had to start him on anti-convulsive meds. The seizure's have been no longer than 2 to 3 minutes, and begin to slow on their own, and are usually gone in under 5 minutes."

"Why isn't he on meds to prevent them all together?"

"Sam didn't want to be unless the seizures advanced beyond the one limb. He rides them out. And, so far, I see no reason to start him on the meds unless the situation advances beyond his arm and hand."

"You mentioned other seizures … he hasn't had any has he?"

"Beyond the Jacksonian ones, no he hasn't."

"How frequent are the ones he's having?"

"Well, as I mentioned they are transient, but he has had about thirty separate episodes over the last few months."

"Thirty!"

"Mr. Winchester, I know it seems like a lot, but considering the nature of the seizures it isn't unheard of, and in fact I have had patients suffer much more severe forms of Jacksonian seizures and much more frequently than Sam. He's doing okay."

"Thank you for taking care of him Dr. Myer's your facility has done so much for my son."

"He's the one that has put forth the effort and Dean has been an excellent support system, as well. And, he's even excited about his occupational placement with the local library in Jefferson City."

"What? You mean he has a job?"

"Well, of sorts," Dr. Myers responded. "His social worker found him an occupational placement as a library helper three days a week and he'll be paid. Plus, it gets him out in real world situations. He'll be in out patient rehab for at least a year, and then he'll be re-evaluated at the end of the year by myself, and his therapists will determine if he needs further treatment at that point."

"Does my son Dean know all of this?"

"Of course, he's been in the decision process from the beginning." John sort of felt slapped by those words, but it was his own fault he hadn't been here for his boys. "The occupational placement was something Sam was excited about, but also, it allows Dean to continue working without leaving Sam alone at home. His library placement is Monday through Wednesday, and then he'll have his out patient rehab on Thursdays and Fridays. Sam will be with basically all day during his rehab days."

John spoke with Dr. Myers a bit longer, and then hung up. He had been on the road for a while now having pulled out of the gas station after rebounding from the enlightening conversation he had had with Larry. His mind was still having problems accepting the news about Sam. He had been so sure the doctors were right about Sam, and although he had started back to Missouri intent on helping his boys and had all ready accepted in his mind Sam was in the same state he'd left him. He had decided he was done running and it was time to be a father. But, now he had been given a gift, and Sammy was walking and talking, and not lost. He still had both his sons.

Later that day, Ivy Ridge

Dean walked into the center with some brochures in hand of some places he had looked at today in Jefferson City. He had considered his own complex, but there weren't any larger apartments available, so he had to branch out, and living in the city would be better for him because of the shop, and Sam's placement at the library. He still wasn't sure about the apartments he had looked at. It wasn't that they weren't nice, but he wanted more for Sam, a real home.

Dean rounded the corner into Sam's rehab wing glancing at his watch. He knew his brother would be done with his rehabs for the day by now, and would be in his room. He walked into Sam's room, and saw his brother sitting on the side if his bed with his back to the door. He was about to say hi when he noticed Sam holding his left arm loosely. And, then he saw the spasm happening in his hand and his arm jerking. He had seen it many times over the past handful of months, but it still bothered him. He walked around his brother's bed, "Hey, Sammy," his voice soft. But, when Sam looked up into his brother's eyes there were tears running down his cheeks. "Hey, hey," Dean reached out. "What's wrong, Sammy? This is old hat," he tried to calm him with an attempt at light humor. Sam shook his head.

"Won't stop," Sam's voice was a mix of anger and fear.

"What do you mean? You know they take about five minutes Sammy, it'll pass. It just seems like it goes on forever."

"No, too long." Sam pleaded. "Over t… t… ten minutes."

"Okay, Sammy," Dean soothed. "I'm going to go get someone. It's going to be all right." He was fighting the panic rising in his chest. He hated seeing Sam distressed. He walked out into the hall, and saw Kyle, Sam's evening care person. "Hey Kyle," he said walking with purpose.

"Hi Dean …" he stopped his greeting short looking at Dean's face. "Something wrong?"

"Could you page Dr. Myers? Sam's having one of his seizures, but it's not stopping."

"Sure," he said all ready activating the paging system to notify Dr. Myers. "Just try to have him relax," Kyle encouraged. "You know how much stronger the spasms get when he's upset." Dean nodded. "You need me in there?" Dean shook his head. "All right, Dr. Myers should be here in a minute."

"Thanks."

Dean walked back into the room, and Sam's agitation had only grown while he was out of the room, and the jerking had become more violent, and he could see Sam trying with difficulty to hold the jerking appendage. "Sammy, stop fighting it," he encouraged softly. "Dr. Myers will be here in a minute."

"Why not stop?" His brother's broken response was only another indicator to Dean proving how upset Sam was becoming.

"Sammy, you know it gets worse when you're upset, okay? So, just calm down."

Dr. Myers came into the room, "Hi Sam, I hear you're having a little longer than normal seizure today." She could see the flushed cheeks and hint of perspiration on the young man's face. "Hey, I thought we talked about this Sam … you weren't going to try fighting them. You can't. You've been doing really well with letting them come, and then they're done."

"I try. But not stop." She cast a glance at Dean, and he nodded. She knew Sam's broken speech was showing how upset he was. Kyle came into the room with a syringe.

"Here's the Dilantin injection, Dr. Myers."

"Thanks Kyle." She checked the syringe for the accurate amount, and pushed out some to insure there were no air bubbles. "Sam, because we got rid of your IV port I'm going to need to tie your arm off and inject it directly into a vein, okay?" Sam nodded. He bit his bottom lip, as she quickly tied the rubber tourniquet on his upper arm and patted for a vein on his non-shaking arm. Dean watched her swab the skin over the protruding vein, and slide the needle into his brother's arm. He watched will curiosity as she drew back a bit of blood into the syringe and then injected the drug. "There you go. Now, this doesn't work as quickly as the drug we used the last time, but this shouldn't make you groggy."

And, over the next couple minutes the jerking calmed to an occasional spasm of his hand, and then it was over.

"Thank you," Sam finally spoke. Dr. Myers smiled.

"It's okay Sam. That one was a little longer than the others, huh?"

"A lot."

"Sam we talked about how if they started to increase in length we'd discuss going on meds." Sam frowned. "Sam, it would be one pill, once a day, and if we're very lucky it may prevent any further break through seizures. You might not have to deal with this anymore or at least on a limited basis." Sam still wasn't sure.

"Can we think about it Dr. Myers?" Dean spoke up when Sam remained quiet.

"Sure." Dr. Myers decided she wouldn't mention the fact that the boy's father had called. She'd just wait to see if Dean ever asked. But, right now wouldn't be a good time anyway, so she let it go.

The room emptied out leaving only Dean and Sam. "You get your shower all ready?" Dean decided to change the subject. Sam nodded. "I didn't get that? Was that a yes?"

"Yes, after re…hab, I did."

"How was rehab? You had everything again today."

"It was f…f…fine."

"Good." Sam eyed the brochures that Dean had discarded in a chair.

"W…w…what are those?"

"Oh, yeah," Dean said with a smiled. "They're brochures from some apartment complexes I went to today. I still have more to look at though. Hey, when I was in town guess where I saw a sign for rent specials?"

"W…w…where?"

"Sunrise Apartments," Dean said with a mild chuckle.

"Not f…f…fun…ny, Dean."

"Oh, come on Sammy, its a little funny." Sam did grin slightly. But, in essence it just reminded him of the last time they were there to rescue their Dad, and the events that occurred in the cabin. Dean saw the far off look in Sam's eyes. "Sammy, you all right?"

"Yeah, just re…mem…ber last time there." Dean nodded. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Why d…d…don't you t…t…talk about Dad?"

"Nothing to talk about Sam," he replied. "He's not here. He's off hunting."

"You're m…m…mad at him." It was a statement not a question.

"Sammy let's not do this okay?"

"Why?"

"Leave it alone. Dad's fine. You and me, we're good too, right?" Sam nodded. He had no idea what had happened between Dean and their dad, but he decided to let it drop for now.

Later the next day, Jefferson City, Missouri

John Winchester drove through the familiar city as he drove toward Elston. He had stopped at a motel earlier when he first arrived and checked into a room. He cleaned up and shaved. He wanted to be presentable for his boys. He was determined to work as hard as he had to at getting his family back. It was a Saturday and John knew Dean was off work. He made his way to Elston, and stopped at a local gas station to get directions to Sparrow Dr. When he pulled into the small complex he drove by the unit numbered 10B and saw no sign of the black Impala. He turned and left for the rehab. He pulled into the visitor parking area and saw no signs of the car there either. He parked his truck and proceeded inside. He took a deep calming breath before he approached the large contemporary looking visitor's desk.

"Hi, I'm Carrie. How can I help you?"

"I'm here to see my son Sam Winchester," he began. "I'm not sure where he's located." Carrie proceeded to look up on the computer.

"He's in 2 East, sir. Room 116." John offered her smile.

"Thank you," he replied. "Could you point me in the right direction?"

"Sure, just go down this hall, and make a left and you'll see a sign with an arrow for 2 East just follow the arrow and then 2 East will be up on your left."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

John walked into 2 East and the wing was bright, airy and branched into two sides. It was very nice and lacked the sterile smell of a hospital. He walked up to the unit desk clerk. "Hi, can I help you?"

"I hope so; I'm looking for room 116." The middle-aged woman behind the desk smiled.

"Sure down this hall about the tenth room down on the right. Sam's room is on the right?"

"Thanks," John was impressed she knew his son's name. "Learn all of the patient's names, huh?"

"It's my unit, and I like to know the residents. And, everyone loves Sam. He's a sweetheart." John genuinely smiled.

"Down this hall you say? On the right?"

"Yep, the numbers are above the doors." John nodded.

He walked down the hallway toward Sam's room. His heart slammed a staccato rhythm against his sternum. He glanced at the room numbers above the doors; he was at 109 and counting. A small petite nurse stopped in the middle of getting some ice for her patient's water dispenser. "Lost?"

"Room 116?" His voice was quiet, and unsure. He gave her a tentative smile.

"Sure, almost there," she replied. "Sam's room is just a few more down on the right. I could take you," she offered.

"No, I'm fine, but thank you."

"Okay, well, I know he's in there. He just finished with his afternoon PT about an hour ago."

"Thank you." The nurse smiled and nodded. "Is his brother with him?"

"Dean? No, he's running errands, but he'll be back later. He never misses a day, especially on the weekends." John nodded. He was quietly relieved that he didn't have to face both of his son's all at once. Although, he guessed that Dean was going to be the most difficult, and he couldn't help but smile at that … because all of Sam's life he had picked fight's with his father, and now John anticipated his youngest being the least likely to be resistant to his arrival.

He stood in the hall just a few feet from room 116, and his hands were shaking. He fisted them trying to quell his nerves at the thought of seeing Sammy again. He took a deep breath, and decided it was now or never, and he began a tentative step into the threshold of Sam's room.

To Be Continued.

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