Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

Chapter Fifteen

Possibility of Being

By Dawn Nyberg

"I was looking back on my life and all the things I've done to me. I'm still looking for the answers. I'm still searching for the key …" Lyric excerpt by Ozzy Osbourne, Road to Nowhere

One Month Later, Early October

Dean shuffled around the kitchen making coffee. The last month had been a major adjustment living with his father once again, and Sam was home now, too. The house he had found to rent was two blocks away from the library Sam had his occupational placement at three days a week. Sam had wanted to walk there as much as possible. Dean remembered he had walked him the first couple times, but Sam had complained and said he wasn't five and this wasn't the first day of kindergarten. He had changed his hours slightly at the garage, so that he was still home when Sam left for the library. The weather had turned cold three weeks ago, and was rainy. The cold dampness in the air had a real bite that Dean hated. He was still trying to shake a case of bronchitis he had come down with a week and half ago. He had picked a family doctor for himself and Sam since it wasn't feasible to get regular health care from an ER. And, the cough medicine he had been prescribed wasn't really helping anymore, but he hadn't taken a few days off to rest like the doctor had said to either. He coughed into his hand as he poured a cup of coffee.

"That cough sounds pretty tight, Dean," John suggested as he walked into the kitchen. For John living in the house with his boys … especially Dean was like walking in a mine field. He had to place his steps very carefully, but without fail he always seemed to say the wrong thing. Perhaps, not so much because it was wrong, but just unwanted.

"I got it handled." John watched his son sit down at the kitchen table. It had been a garage sale find and was in good shape, but most of all it had been cheap. Dean was all ready dressed in his blue mechanic jumpsuit for the garage.

"Yeah, I know you got it handled," John replied. "It's just your chest sounds pretty tight … maybe … you should take a sick day. I know Larry wouldn't mind. And, your cheeks are flushed."

"I'm fine," Dean groused. He changed the subject. "It's too cold for Sammy to walk to the library today can you drop him off? I got to be at work earlier today and can't drop him myself."

"Yeah, sure no problem," John answered. John's schedule was usually much earlier than even Dean's, but today he had flipped hours with a guy who had a family thing at one of his kid's schools. John had taken the job with Larry's brother, Dan who owned his own shop on the other side of town near the airport. His usual hours started at six in the morning, and he was usually home by 3:30, and was always there to meet Sam when he came home or to pick him up. Sam had given both men the silent treatment when they had asked him to stay at the library until he could be picked up when he finished working because they didn't want him coming home to an empty house.

Now, Sam had quickly equated that to we don't want you to come home to an unsupervised house, and Sam quickly pointed out that he was an adult, and not some little kid. Sam already hated the fact that he had to where a medical alert bracelet that said he had a seizure disorder. Dean and John had both relented and allowed him to walk home alone, but he had to call them when he was leaving the library and when he got home. John remembered the day it was his turn to have phone duty, which meant it was his week to be Sam's check-in person, and his mind recalled the day Sam had decided to be defiant and not call at all. John had checked his watch knowing that Sam finished his work at the library at 3:30, and his watch said it was 4:00.

He had called the library and spoke to Sam's supervisor the head librarian that managed that branch. And, when she had said he left at 3:30 John had called his son's cell and only got his voice mail. He had called home, and got no response … not even when he issued an order to pick up the phone on the answering machine. He remembered the cold panic that had suddenly filled his chest, had something grabbed his son, had he been hurt, or was he lying on the floor at home unconscious or dying from some new seizure. He had flown out of work that day simply saying something was wrong at home. He had burst in the back door running through the kitchen yelling Sam's name only to discover his son sitting neat as you please on the couch with one leg tucked under his butt eating a handful of chips. That was the day he finally dropped the eggshell routine with Sam, and had yelled at him.

The incident never repeated itself, and John guessed it was because Sam had seen the raw fear in his father's eyes as he burst into the room that day, and knew his action of defiance had been childish.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean answered as his brother came into the kitchen.

"You lll…look sicker. You should sss…stay home."

"No can do kiddo. I have two brake jobs on my docket today, and a transmission to work on. Look Sammy, I'm having Dad drop you at the library today, okay?"

"No, I want to walk."

"Sam, look at the weather man. It's cold and rainy. You don't need to get sick."

"I wear my jack…et with hood." Dean just leveled a look on his brother. His little brother had not lost his stubborn streak since coming out of the coma all those months ago. It hadn't been quite a year yet … since that fateful night with the demon and the car wreck.

"Sammy, you're brother is right. The weather is nasty today and you've got no business walking two blocks in it to work." John liked to call it work because he could see the glint Sam got in his eye when he said that word and his son was paid for his time. Sam only worked there three days a week from 9:00 to 3:30, but he enjoyed being around the books and helping out. John wondered if Sam missed school, but he seemed content with his occupational placement and doing his out-patient rehab.

"What…ever," Sam complained with a crestfallen look on his face.

"Sammy, you got your med-alert on?" Dean asked as he tried to spot the silver bracelet. Sam would try to leave without it, but Dean and John had become very vigilant about making sure he wore it … just in case he had an episode. The medication had been doing a good job at preventing any additional break through seizures. "How about your pill … did you take it?"

"Yes," Sam hissed his answer. He also flicked his arm at Dean to reveal his med-alert bracelet.

"That's my boy," Dean smiled. Sam just rolled his eyes and sat down for some cereal.

Later that Morning, Jefferson City Auto Repair

Dean sat by a wheel well filing down a metallic buildup on a rotor caliper on a tiny import car. He felt horrible, and hated to admit that his father and brother were right he should have taken the day off. Hell, it wasn't like he didn't have sick days earned at his job. He just seemed to save them in the event something happened to Sam and he needed to be with his brother. He felt hot, and like he was trying to breathe through a wet cheese cloth.

"Hey Dean," Larry said as he walked into the part of the garage Dean was working in. "Geez, you look like road kill."

"I'm good," was Dean's slightly raspy response. A coughing fit racked him and it felt like his chest was exploding.

"Doesn't sound like it," Larry studied Dean's pale features, and flushed cheeks. "I think you should call it a day Dean. Take some time off. You've been sick almost a couple weeks now. No sense you running yourself into the ground." Dean stood up from his seated position and suddenly realized that was the wrong choice. The room spun, and he put his hand on the car to steady himself. "Yeah, you need to go home, or maybe go back to the doctor kiddo."

Dean coughed again, but this time getting air back into his lungs seemed a lot harder after he coughed. The feeling scared him. He fought to draw the air in and tight wheeze could be heard. "Riley," Larry shouted as he helped Dean sit on the nearest stool. "Call 911!" Dean fought for his air like a drowning man as Larry kept a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"I got them on the phone," Riley shouted. "An ambulance is on the way. They want to know what's wrong."

"Tell them he's having a lot of trouble breathing." Larry could see the ashen complexion beginning to show around Dean's eyes, and the corners of his mouth were slightly blue as he fought to drag in a good breath. He noticed Dean's fingernails, "Christ," he hissed. "Tell them his fingernails are a little blue."

When the paramedics arrived Dean was lying on the ground with Larry kneeling by him and the other men in the shop standing nearby. Dean was slipping in and out of consciousness as his battle to breathe was failing quickly.

"What's his name?"

"Dean," Larry answered. "Dean Winchester. He had a chest cold this last week or so, and now this happened. Feels hot, I'm pretty sure he's got a fever."

"Dean, I'm Mark. Dean, open your eyes," the paramedic spoke as he and his partner opened Dean's jump suit, and pulled his t-shirt up and cut it open. They placed electrodes to his chest to monitor his heart, and a pulse-ox clip to a finger to get his oxygen levels. Dean opened his eyes, as he attempted one last tight breath and his head lulled to the side. He was unconscious. "Dammit, he's out," Mark barked to Louise his partner.

"O2 levels are at 89." Louise replied. Mark listened to Dean's chest.

"He's not moving any air. We gotta intubate." Mark took the metal tongue blade and slid it into Dean's mouth. "Jesus, I can't see the anatomy markers … he's swollen. Get me the fiber optic intubation kit."

"I'm on it," Louise replied as she sprinted to the ambulance. Mark began trying to ventilate Dean with an ambu bag while he kept track of the falling oxygen numbers. This guy needs oxygen, now! His mind was shouting. Louise ran back with the kit. Mark threaded the fiber optic scope through the swollen tissue, and got a clear view of what he needed to see and threaded the intubation tube down Dean's throat.

"I'm in," he shouted as he secured the tube with medical tape. He squeezed the bag attached to the tube, and Louise nodded as she checked for breath sounds in Dean's lungs.

"Placement is golden. Equal breath sounds on both sides … oxygen levels are coming up."

"Good, let's get him loaded and roll."

"Hey, what hospital?" Larry asked. "I gotta call his dad."

"Capitol Region Medical Center. Tell him to go to the ER main desk." Mark answered while he continued ventilating Dean as they rolled him toward the waiting ambulance. Larry nodded and the doors to the ambulance slammed closed and the siren wailed as it pulled out of the lot. Larry went straight to his phone in his office.

"Pro Care Auto," answered a voice over the phone Larry recognized as his brothers.

"Dan? It's me. I need to speak with John. His son Dean was just taken to the hospital."

"Oh man, accident at work?"

"No, he's sick … couldn't breathe."

"Let me get him." Dan put the phone line on hold and ran to get John. "John," Dan spoke as he walked into the back of the garage where John and Craig were doing an engine rebuild.

"Yeah," John answered casually as he leaned back from the car. His senses immediately on alert at the sight of the man's tense features … something was wrong.

"Yeah, they just took your kid to the hospital. Larry's on the phone for you."

"What? Sam? Why's Larry calling?" John felt panic, god how bad could it be that Dean couldn't call to tell me, and Larry was doing it? The question repeated in John's head.

"No, man, it's Dean." John took off running to the phone. He snatched it up as he hit the hold button to release the line.

"Larry," John barked. "What happened? Where did they take him?"

"John, he couldn't breathe. They had to put a tube down his throat," Larry's nerves were on edge and he knew he wasn't being very tactful in telling John what had happened. "They said they were taking him to Capitol Region, and to go to the ER main desk." John's heart was hammering against his ribs.

"Thanks Larry." John hung up and cast a glance at Dan.

"Go, John don't worry about anything. Just call when you can and let me know how things are, okay?"

"Thanks Dan." John glanced at his watch it was a little after 11:00 in the morning, and he knew Sam was still at the library. He'd let him stay there until he knew more about Dean.

Capitol Region Medical Center, ER Main Lobby

John rushed into the ER. Traffic had been heavy and it took him almost twenty minutes to get to the hospital and another ten to park in the busy visitor parking lot. He strode up to the ER main desk, "I got a call … my son was brought in by ambulance about a half hour ago … Dean Winchester."

"Let me look," a young woman answered. "Yes, Mr. Winchester, your son is in trauma one right now with the doctor still. His attending physician is Dr. Riggs. Could you have a seat over there and as soon as they know something … someone will be out to speak with you. I'll let them know you're here." John wanted to blow past the desk and go straight back there to see his son, but he'd wait. He sat with his hands folded in his lap while his leg nervously bounced up and own. His mind repeating what Larry had said he couldn't breathe … they had to put a tube down his throat … John knew that meant that Dean had most likely stopped breathing all together. Dammit, I knew he sounded bad this morning. I should have forced the issue, he berated himself mentally.

Thirty Minutes Later

John saw a doctor that looked like he was in his early thirties walked toward the waiting area with a clip board. "Family of Dean Winchester."

"I'm his father. How is my son?"

"Here," the doctor pointed to an empty set of chairs away from the hustle and bustle of the ER. The doctor took a seat and John followed suit. "Your son arrived to us in respiratory failure. The paramedics were able to reestablish ventilation by intubating him with a breathing tube. He was initially unconscious when he arrived, but as his oxygen levels came back up he did wake up, however, he was fighting the breathing tube, so we have had to sedate him. He has a fever of 102, but we are managing that with fluids and some fever reducers."

"But, how is he? He was getting over bronchitis from over a week ago … what happened? I know his cough sounded tight this morning." John wanted answers quicker than he was getting them.

"Well, your son has himself a nasty case of pneumonia. His bronchitis was the catalyst to the pneumonia. Unfortunately, he has what in lay terms is called double pneumonia. He has consolidations in both of his lungs, and he was having to work too hard to get air in and out. We have put him on a ventilator in order to give his lungs a break. I plan on keeping him sedated for at least another 24 to 48 hours to give his body a chance to simply just rest. The tests show that he has what we call a staphylococcal variant of pneumonia. I have started him on an IV antibiotic called Oxacillin, and it should do the trick." The doctor paused gauging John's demeanor and continued when the boy's father did not interrupt.

"The antibiotics should have a chance to get a foot hold while he is sedated and his body is at rest. He's going to be moved up to ICU in a few minutes as soon as they have a bed prepared for him. I plan on keeping him there until we wean him off the ventilator. I'll probably keep him on the vent for 2 to 4 days, but we'll play it by ear. I suspect your son will be here for at least a minimum of 10 days."

"You said the antibiotics should do the trick," John hedged. "Is my son's life in danger? I mean, what if this drug doesn't work?"

"Mr. Winchester your son is young, and in excellent shape, minus his bout with the bronchitis that brought on the pneumonia. We'll be doing some repeat chest x-rays to check the progress of the lungs as the infection abates. His type of infection reacts well to this drug, and I have every confidence that within a couple days we should be able to see some improvement with the lung infection."

"So, he's sedated?"

"Yes, and as I said I plan on keeping him that way for 24 to 48 hours. And, depending on how fast he shows some level of improvement … I may keep him sedated an additional day. The rest will allow his body a chance to regroup and the antibiotics to do their work. And, once he is weaned off the ventilator he'll most likely be moved to a regular room and be able to leave the ICU."

"May I see him?"

"Sure, I'll take you to him. If you want you can even go up to the ICU with him when transport comes for him. I'll be his attending physician. Actually, I was doing my ER monthly rotation today, but I'm normally splitting my time between ICU and other units."

"Good," John nodded. "My son…" John said rising from his chair.

"Oh, of course, follow me," the doctor indicated the direction with an arm.

John walked into the curtained off area and his heart broke. Dean was pale and unmoving. He noted the multiple IV bags suspended on poles around his son. He saw the ventilator tube jutting from his mouth and couldn't block out the unmistakable hiss of the machine as it made his son's chest rise and fall mechanically. He noted the heart monitor wires snaking out from under the pale blue hospital gown, and he saw the white pulse-ox clip attached to his finger. "Dean," John's voice was soft and thick with emotion. "Hey sport … well … you've gotten yourself in a fine mess, haven't you?" He reached up and stroked his son's forehead feeling the warmth of the fever that burned. He looked at his son's still features and noted how much he had changed since he had left all those months ago.

His hair had more length now, of course it wasn't any close resemblance to the mop of head his youngest son had, but the over all length was longer and had begun to cover his ears a little. "You're going to be fine son. I'm right here, and you're going to be okay." He held Dean's hand nestled between both of his warm broad hands. John hated seeing Dean so weak and vulnerable. He had mentally prepared himself for Sam having problems, but he hadn't seen this health crisis for his first born coming, and he felt off balance. The doctor walked in and indicated to John that Dean's room was ready in the ICU and he followed his son up to the second floor. They rolled into ICU and John met eyes with the nurse busying herself with preparations in a room John surmised would be his son's. And, when she turned around he recognized her immediately. "Sue?" She had been both Dean's nurse and Sam's after the wreck.

"Mr. Winchester," her voice enthusiastic. "Well, I'd say it's good to see you again, but given the situation …" John smiled at her. Sue helped transfer Dean to his bed, as another nurse continued to squeeze the bag attached to his breathing tube since they had to breathe for Dean during his transport because they had taken him off the ventilator in the ER to move him upstairs. John watched her consult paperwork for Dean's ventilator settings and quickly had him hooked up to a ventilator that resumed breathing for him. "Pneumonia, huh?" she commented to John. "I can only imagine he ran himself into the ground, right? He's got a hard head." John chuckled.

"That he does. I think stubbornness is a family trait." John glanced at his watch. Damn where had the time gone, he complained in his mind. It was all ready 3:00 and Sam would be leaving the library soon.

"Something wrong?" Sue asked as she noted his mild distress when he glanced at his watch.

"I need to step outside and make a call."

"Sure, he's fine. And, don't worry about him waking up. I'm sure the doctor told you he's been sedated." John nodded.

Ten minutes later John walked back into the ICU. He had called Sam at the library and told him he was picking him up because they had stuff to do, and to wait for him. He hadn't been able to bring himself to tell Sam about Dean … he'd do that in person. "Sue?" John said as he walked into Dean's room.

"Yes?"

"I need to go pick up my other son, and we'll be back in a short while, okay?"

"Sure," Sue replied. "I wasn't aware you had a third son."

"Huh?" John was perplexed. "No, I just have Dean and Sam. I'm going to go get Sam. He'll want to see his brother."

"Sam?" Sue couldn't believe what she was hearing. After all, everyone in the ICU knew the prognosis for Sam when he had left their care and went to the neurology unit.

"Yeah," John answered casually. "I better get going. I wrote down my cell number should you need to contact me while I'm gone."

"Okay," Sue stared at the retreating back of the man. Her mind trying to process and still unwilling to accept that the Sam she had cared for was going to walk into this unit.

Jefferson City Public Library

John pulled up outside the library, and spotted Sam right away as he sat on a bench waiting for his father. John knew Sam hated the fact he wasn't permitted to drive, and Dr. Myers had been frank in saying she may never be able to clear him for driving because of his seizures, and coordination issues affecting his reflexes. Sam stood and walked to his dad's truck. "You need help?" John asked smiling. It was always a little more difficult for his son to get into the higher automobile … he was thankful his son was as tall as he was since it made it slightly easier for him to get in.

"No, I got it," Sam answered easily, and John allowed himself a moment to relish the simple sentence that came out of is son's mouth easily. Fluid speech seemed to happen more and more, but he still had problems. And, when Sam was upset his sentences still resorted to broken and fragmented blurbs. When Sam was inside the truck he turned to his father with expectant eyes and a smile.

"So where www…we going?"

"Sammy," John began. "First, I want you to know he's going to be fine, okay? The doctor said so."

"Who?" Sam's eyes were fearful.

"Sammy, Dean collapsed at work today. He couldn't breathe." John felt the tension rolling off his youngest child.

"Dean! Www…where is he? What wrong?"

"Sammy, you need to calm down. I don't want you triggering a seizure, okay? It won't do your brother any good for you to be flat on your back." John reached out a comforting hand and grasped Sam's shoulder. "The doctor said Dean has pneumonia. They sedated him, so he can rest. The doctor wanted to let his lungs rest … so they are breathing for him, okay? But, they said he's going to be fine. It's just going to take a few days."

"I www…want to sss…see him."

"I know," John replied. "I'm taking you to the hospital with me." They pulled onto the large property of the hospital and as they drove through toward the visitor parking Sam looked hard at the place as a memory stirred.

"Remember this place. Look familiar." John spared a glance at his son as he drove into the visitor lot.

"It should," John commented. "It's the hospital they brought us all to after the crash. It's where you had your brain surgery when you hurt your head."

"I was in ccc…coma here?"

"Yes, until you were transferred to Ivy Ridge."

John and Sam walked into the elevator and took it to the second floor. John slowed his strides so Sam didn't feel left behind. He kept up, but if he tried to hurry his left side would sometimes have another idea, and he would stumble. "Sammy, they have your brother in ICU until they can remove the breathing tube, but don't let it scare you, all right? I don't want you to get upset. And, don't forget … the doctor wants to keep Dean asleep for a couple days or so by keeping him sedated."

"I be okay," Sam pushed out a frustrated sigh. "I mean, I will bbb…be okay." John smiled at his young son's attempt to speak clearly.

"Hey kiddo, I know you're worried, but your brother's going to be fine. He's just a little sick right now, but the medicine will help him."

"I know."

"You know," John began. "You spent three weeks in this very ICU before they moved you to the third floor neurology unit."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

John and Sam walked into the ICU unit and John could feel eyes shift toward them, but everything got quiet, and it was the whispers that drew his attention up. He saw the stares of astonishment. They were all looking at Sam.

"Sam?" Sue's voice could not mask the absolute shock. Sam turned and looked at her.

"Ah, Sam, this is Dean's nurse Sue. Actually, she took care of you while you were in here."

"Hi," Sam offered his hand. "Thh…thank you for ttt…tak…ing care of me. And, fff…for my bro…ther." Sue couldn't help herself as she pulled Sam into an impromptu hug.

"Oh sweetie, it was my pleasure. I just …" she stared at Sam. Her memories were of an unconscious and unresponsive young man. This person was alive, and animated. Sam returned the hug … in some odd way he thought her voice sounded familiar. "Here, your brother is this way." John stepped in behind his son to follow him into Dean's room.

"How's he doing?" John asked.

"His vitals are stable. He's resting as you already know. At this point, we'll just support him with the vent, meds and fluids. We'll monitor him and his vitals. And, they will probably do a repeat chest x-ray tomorrow morning to see if his lungs are the same or worse." John nodded.

"I'll let you have some time. I'll be back in a bit. He'll be due for a vitals check."

"Thank you."

"Oh, you're welcome."

Sue walked back to the nurse's station and heard the whispers. "Sue?"

"Yes," she turned around and Dr. Kendrick was standing in front of her. He had been in ICU for a consult on another patient when he saw Sam walk in. He didn't often remember faces of his former patients, but Sam had always stuck in his mind because he had never dealt with the size of hematoma Sam had had, and he remembered the family drama over his care and placement when he left the hospital. And, of course, he recognized the father … John Winchester had had countless meetings and consultations with him over Sam's diagnosis and subsequent prognosis.

"Was that John Winchester and his son?"

"Yes, there here for his oldest son … bilateral pneumonia."

"That was Sam Winchester?" He questioned. "The head injury from a few months back. Coma … persistent unresponsiveness?"

"That would be him." She answered with a smile. "Miracles do happen," she offered.

"I have to speak with his father. I'd love to get a scan of his brain. This shouldn't be," he commented. "There is no reason he should be functioning at this level."

"Well, maybe not," she offered. "But, if I've learned anything over the years doing this job it's that the human body can pull off some amazing things, and that medicine isn't always right." She smiled. Dr. Kendrick nodded and walked toward Dean's room.

"Mr. Winchester," Dr. Kendrick stood at the door. "I know this isn't probably the time, but when you have a moment could we talk?" Dr. Kendrick found himself staring at Sam as the young man turned his eyes from his unconscious brother to meet the doctor's eyes. Sam acknowledged him with a nod, although he didn't recognize the man, and returned to looking at Dean and holding his big brother's hand.

"We can talk now," John said rising from the chair he was sitting in. "Sammy, I'm going to go talk to the doctor for a moment. You stay with your brother."

"Okay. I'm nnn…not lll…leaving Dean."

John remembered the doctor, and there was a slow burn anger brewing in him. This man had said Sam was lost and that there was no hope for recovery. "I remember you Dr. Kendrick," John's voice held a deadly tone. The doctor took him into a consultation room for privacy.

"Mr. Winchester, I understand you're upset."

"Upset? No, that would not be the word I would choose. Maybe, enraged or how about good old fashioned pissed."

"Your son Sam should not be walking and talking and there are another fifty neurologists that would back up my opinion based on his scans from when he was here."

"And, all fifty of you would still be trying to decide whether to scratch your watch or wind your butt," John retorted. "My older son said you were all quacks and that you were wrong about Sam… and he was right."

"It's all water under the bridge," the doctor replied. "I can't change my diagnosis, and based on what I saw with my own eyes back then my opinion remains the same. Your son should have never recovered from his non-responsive state. The brain injury was extensive."

"Blah-blah," John complained. "Well, it's obvious he has moved far beyond being unresponsive. My son has battled back on a long road of rehab. He still goes to rehab. He has learned to walk and talk all over again. He is capable of self-care now, and as far as never having a meaningful recovery … he's in his brother's hospital room right now sitting with him and talking to him. I thank God your diagnosis was wrong, and no matter what you say or think it was wrong," John spat. "And, I don't want to hear that line of bull about based on the facts at the time … because another neurologist accepted my son to a rehab and knew he had a chance at some level of recovery. I actually allowed your words to influence my decisions for my child and I would have condemned him by putting him a long-term care facility."

"Perhaps," the doctor began. "I could use this as a learning case. I could take new scans of Sam's brain to compare to his previous scans, and this would be a learning opportunity for myself and the neurology staff at the hospital."

"Excuse me," John hissed. "Did I just hear you right? You want my son to be your science experiment?"

"It wouldn't be like that."

"We're finished here," John said standing up. It was taking every fiber of his body to not cold cock this doctor into oblivion.

"But, Mr. Winchester," Dr. Kendrick stood up from the table.

"Don't," John warned. "I want you to stay away from my son. You want to talk about his case and his improvements you call his doctor at Ivy Ridge, but you're not laying a hand on him."

"Maybe, I should speak directly with Samuel," the doctor offered and paused. "I mean he's competent to make his own decisions isn't he? However, I did catch his speech deficit when he spoke to you."

"My son isn't handicapped if that's what you're getting at. I told you he's had to relearn things and is going through rehab. You leave him the hell alone … you go near him and talk to him about any damn tests or scans … I will file charges against you."

"No need for threats. I'm just fascinated with your son's case. I'll respect your wishes. I apologize."

"He's not a lab rat. Look, I know because of you my son didn't die, okay? I know you're the surgeon that did his surgery, but he's been through enough…"

"I understand." John nodded.

"I want to get back to my children now."

"Of course."

Meanwhile Dean's ICU Room

Sam sat in a chair pulled closely to Dean's bed. He held his brother's limp hand in his own. "Hi Dean. It's Sam." He watched his brother's face … it wasn't that he expected him to open his eyes he understood that his big brother was heavily sedated, but it just seemed odd to see his brother so still. "Ddd…dad is ttt…taking care of things. I'm glad he's here. I'm nnn…not sure I www…would be good at talk…ing to doctors. You're going to be okay." Sam watched the automatic rise and fall of Dean's chest as the ventilator whooshed in the background. "You should have taken care of yourself."

"You tell him Sammy," John replied from the door with a smile.

"What doctor say?"

"Huh? Oh that doctor," John hedged. "It wasn't about your brother. It's nothing important."

"About me?"

"What? Why would you ask that?"

"Sue came in to check Dean," Sam began. "I ask her who that doc…tor was … she said a neu … neur," he shook his head in frustration. "A b…brain doc…tor." John couldn't help the small smile that crept across his face at his son's quick solution to his pronunciation problem.

"He was your doctor. He operated on you. He couldn't believe you recovered."

"He say something? You look angry." Sam commented.

"Sammy, just always remember that doctors aren't always right, okay? And, sometimes you have to go against reason," John replied. "Your brother never believed them when they said how sick you were … how bad your brain was hurt. They said you'd never walk or talk. That doctor didn't think you'd ever even acknowledge your brother or me again. It's just … I don't want to go back to that time, all right? We're beyond that now."

"Okay." Sam said simply and went back to watching Dean.

John and Sam sat with Dean until the sun had dropped and evening was encroaching. The eldest Winchester noticed Sam's large yawn. "Hey, kiddo, I think maybe we should call it a night … get you home and in bed."

"No, not leave Dean. Not tired."

"Sam," John replied. "Tomorrow is Thursday and you have rehab all day, and you'll need your rest."

"No rehab. Stay with Dean."

"Sammy, Dean wouldn't want you to exhaust yourself, and you know it. I'll stay with Dean all day tomorrow while you're in rehab, and then I'll pick you up and bring you to see your brother. He's not going to be waking up for a couple days at least the doctor said, so don't worry that he's waking up to an empty room."

"Dad," Sam's pleaded.

"No, Sam," John countered. "I want to stay with your brother too, but right now I have two children whose well-beings are my soul concern, and you know if you exhaust yourself you could trigger a seizure or make yourself sick. I don't want two son's in the hospital, okay? And, Dean wouldn't want you to lose any rehab time and you know it."

"Yes, sir."

"Good, now say goodnight to your brother and we'll head out. I want to get some food into you, and then I want you in bed." Sam nodded.

"Dean?" Sam leaned down toward his brother. "Dad's making me go home to eat and sss…sleep. You rest and get better." He reached down and smoothed back the hair from his brother's forehead. "See you tomorrow." He gave his brother's hand a gentle squeeze and released it. John patted Sam on the back.

"I'll be right out Sammy. I'll meet you by the desk."

"Yes, sir."

"How about 'yes, Dad,' I'm your father not your drill sergeant anymore," he said with a smile. He was awarded with a dimpled lopsided grin from his baby son.

"Yes, dad." John nodded with approval.

"Well, sport … I hate to leave you, but I know you'd want Sammy home. I'll be back tomorrow morning as soon as I drop your brother at rehab. You fight this infection Dean. You hear me? Your brother and I both need you." John still frowned at the sight of the breathing tube, but it was a necessary evil because without it his son would not survive. "Sleep well son." He leaned down close to Dean's ear, as a hand pushed back his hair gently, "I love you Dean," he whispered into his firstborn's ear. He kissed the top of Dean's head, "Sweet dreams." John left the room crossing Sue's path. "If there's any change or I'm needed I've left my home and cell numbers."

"Yep, they're both noted in his chart. I'm off in an hour and his night nurse will be Bianca."

"Thanks. I'll be back in the morning."

"Okay, goodnight Mr. Winchester."

"You too, Sue."

The Winchester House, Midnight

John was pulled from his sleep by a vivid nightmare with one word on his lips, Dean. The dream was still fresh in his mind and the memories of it assaulted him. He remembered Dean and there was a complication … he saw a flurry of activity around his son, and Dr. Riggs' sad eyes as he said they had lost him. He grabbed the phone next to his bed and dialed the number on the paper he placed on his nightstand. "ICU," a quiet voice responded.

"Hi, this is John Winchester," he struggled to remember the name of the night nurse, but couldn't. "I'd like to speak to the nurse for Dean Winchester. I'm his father."

"Sure, one minute."

"Hello, Mr. Winchester this is Bianca …what can I do for you?"

"I know it's late, but I just wanted to check on my son Dean."

"It's never too late," Bianca replied. "Dean is stable. His oxygen levels and blood pressure are fine. His fever has dropped, and was at 100 when I checked it an hour ago. He is resting comfortably."

"Good, I just…"

"You don't need an excuse to call Mr. Winchester he's your son and you're worried it's completely understandable. Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

"Earlier Sue mentioned they might do another chest x-ray tomorrow to see if his lungs are the same or worse has that been scheduled?"

"Yes, he's scheduled for a portable chest x-ray at 8:00 AM. He won't even have to leave his room … they'll bring the x-ray to him."

"Okay," John replied. "I'll be there in the morning after I take care of some things." He had to wait until he dropped Sam off at 9:00 AM for rehab in Elston and then drive back into the city.

"Sure, parents are welcome 24/7 except during nurse report times, and then they usually ask you to leave," she paused. "Report times are from 6:00 AM to 7:30 AM, and 6:00 PM to 7:30 PM."

"Yep, I remember, but thanks for reminding me."

"No problem Mr. Winchester."

"Thanks, Bianca was it?"

"Yep that's right."

"Thanks Bianca, and don't forget my numbers are with Dean's chart if you need me for anything at all."

"Sure thing."

John hung up the phone and clicked his side lamp off dropping the room into darkness. He lay back down for a moment and then he felt the urge to check on Sam. He walked quietly down the hallway of the three bedroom ranch Dean had rented. The rent in Jefferson City was fairly cheap, and they were able to get a lot for their rent money. Dean had looked at several houses and decided on this three bedroom two bath brick ranch that was on a suburban city street and was only two blocks from Sam's library placement. And, it was a close commute for himself and for Dean when they worked. It was a nice house for the boys and himself. They hadn't had a real home like this since before Mary had died.

He padded quietly down the carpeted hall, and was glad that Sam hadn't closed his door all the way, but had left it cracked just a little. He was careful not to wake his youngest son. He stood over by Sam's bed and watched him sleep. He assured himself of the gentle rise and fall of his son's chest in sleep, and was comforted by the fact that his sleep looked peaceful. His hand gently skimmed the top of Sam's head careful not to wake him. John smiled and before leaving he resituated a blanket that had fallen off Sam's chest. He covered him back up carefully, and left the room closing the door slightly behind him.

Four Days Later, ICU

John sat by Dean's side in the ICU. He had dropped Sam off at the library insistent that Dean would want him to be there. And, partly John wanted to spend some alone time with his son. Sam had completed his Thursday and Friday rehab days, and his entire weekend had been by Dean's bedside until John had pulled him out and taken him home. The doctor had told John that he would be stopping the sedation early on the morning of the fourth day and John wanted to be there when Dean woke up. The ventilator was still in place the doctor saying he'd feel better giving Dean another couple days on it to rest his lungs. The antibiotics were doing their job, and Dr. Riggs had said he was happy with Dean's progress.

It was a little after 9 AM when John felt a twitch inside his hand, and he looked down to see Dean's fingers move ever so slightly. He looked up and Dean still appeared to be asleep. "Dean? It's dad … can you hear me kiddo?" And, there it was a flicker as Dean's eyes moved under his closed eyelids.

"Dean?"

Slowly, Dean's eyes opened and focused on his father's face. And, then his eyes panicked and he began to thrash at the intrusion he felt in his throat. He felt like he was choking to death. The heart monitors beeped out a staccato rhythm as he fought the intubation tube. "Dean, no," John stood up holding his son's hands away from the tube. "Don't fight your breathing tube. Just relax son … its okay." His voice was oddly soothing and Dean relaxed. "You have pneumonia Dean," John spoke softly. "You've been sedated for a little while. You won't be able to speak until they remove the tube, and that won't be for another day or so. You've been in the hospital three days now … today is morning of day four. You're going to be fine and the doctor says the antibiotics are working." John rubbed a hand across Dean's hand reassuringly. John watched as Dean's eyes moved around the room, and then became wide and panicked, and he knew without words what Dean needed to know about. "He's fine Dean. Sammy's okay. He's been here everyday. And, I thought it best to get him out of here for a while, so he's at the library." John saw Dean visibly relax and he nodded his approval to Sam keeping his schedule.

"That brother of yours would stay a permanent fixture in your room if I let him. And, don't worry," John began. "I'm making sure he's taking his medication and wearing his bracelet whenever he's out of the house." Dean nodded again. John could see Dean's eyes droop in exhaustion. It was apparent that the adrenalin surge he had experienced upon waking had dropped off leaving only drowsiness behind. "Close your eyes son and rest," John soothed. "I'm not going anywhere." Dean allowed his eyes to close and despite his feelings over the past months toward his father he felt comforted by his father's voice and went to sleep.

Dean had woken up for small moments throughout the morning and afternoon. He had even seen Sue once and had acknowledged her with a small wave. John looked at his watch and knew he'd have to head out soon to pick up Sam from the library. He felt lucky that he didn't have to worry about work since both Dan and Larry had been wonderful and said to take off whatever time you need. Larry and the fellows from the garage had even sent flowers, but because of the rules of ICU no patients were permitted flowers in their rooms, but they were kept on display at the nurse's station. "Dean?" John spoke softly as gently rubbed a thumb across his forehead. "Son, can you hear me?" Dean stirred … his eyes opening to thin slits. "Dean?" His father's soft voice pulled him closer to waking. "Hey, there kiddo," he said with a gentle smile when he saw Dean wake and focus on him. "Dean, I didn't want you to wake up to an empty room, but I have to go pick-up your brother from the library, and it takes a little bit to get there. I'll bring him back here and you can see him."

Dean offered a small nod. "Now, close your eyes and get some more rest, okay?" John urged and Dean readily complied. He was asleep again within moments. Sue came in to check his vitals once again. "Hey, Sue. I gotta pick-up Sam," he started. "I told him, but he fell asleep so quick he may not remember, so if he wakes again and we're not back yet, please just remind him I getting Sam."

"Will do." Sue replied.

Hospital, Seven Days Later

"I still don't know why I need a friggin' wheelchair," Dean huffed. "I can walk on my own."

"Dean, it's hospital policy," John answered. "Here Sam," John handed Sam a plastic hospital bag with the words: Patient Belongings in blue and the blank information areas were filled in … Patient name: Dean Winchester, Room 2214.

"Well, how much longer do I gotta wait for some orderly to come push me out of here? I mean come on we're in the lobby now and the doors right there."

"Patience is a virtue Dean," Sue chimed in from behind him.

"Sue?" Dean looked at her curiously.

"In the flesh," she quipped. "I heard we were finally kicking your stubborn," she lowered her voice and leaned in, "stubborn ass out of here today. I took my break and volunteered to wheel you out myself." Dean smiled. He had come to depend on Sue a lot when Sammy was hurt and she had always been straight with him and kept his head in as good a head space as he could have had considering.

"The car's out front. They're letting me park there because you're being discharged." Over the past few days Dean had come to an amicable truce with his father. He had proven himself this time around, but Dean still wasn't sure how long it would last. He still didn't trust him, but he was glad for him, otherwise Sammy would have been alone for the eleven days he's been in the hospital. John walked ahead to get the Impala ready. He thought the car would be the easiest to get Dean home in and Sam could sit in the back.

"Now, Dean, I know the doctor went over your discharge instructions, and gave you some follow-up meds. Now you take them, and he said take another full week off for bed rest before going back to work. I don't want to see your handsome mug back in this place unless it's a social call you got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

"Ma'am, oh lord, I'm not ready for retirement yet … just call me Sue and none of the ma'am stuff." Dean nodded. "Okay," she said as she slowed the wheelchair and stopped by the car. "You're all set." She looked at John. "Make sure he takes his meds and stays in bed." John nodded. She turned to Sam. "Hey, Sam … you make sure that brother of yours does what he's supposed to do."

"I will. Bbb…bye Sue."

"Bye sweetie." Sam blushed and looked away self conscious of the heat filling his cheeks.

Dean laughed. "Sammy and Sue sittin' in a tree…" Sam reacted before he could stop himself as he cuffed the back of his brother's head knocking it forward slightly from the impact. "Hey, sick person here," Dean complained.

"Sss…sorry," Sam offered quickly.

"You pay him no mind Sam. He had it coming to him." She said with a smile.

"Hey!" Dean countered. Sue just rolled her eyes and looked up to John. John held the door open and Dean slid into the front seat and John closed it once Dean was seated. Sam climbed into the backseat closing his own door.

"You've got your hands full with these boys … don't you?" Sue said quietly for John's ears only. He smiled at her and just as quietly replied …

"You have no idea." He smiled. Sue smiled and waved as the Impala pulled away. John had both his boys with him, and he was so happy that Dean was going home, and that Sammy had his big brother back. The house seemed empty without both his boys filling it. John was hopeful for the possibilities that may have opened up because of this hospital stay … he felt hope that he and Dean may finally be on the same road … he wasn't giving up and was determined to earn Dean's trust again.

To Be Continued

Share your thoughts. Reviews are my helpful motivation to continue with this story. Thanks in advance for your comments as they are always appreciated.

Read and Review!