It took a lot of manhandling, a lot of twisting, and a hell of a lot more strength than John knew that he or Dean had. He tried to bodily drag his son out of the panic room, the room that was being filled with the chilling sound of Sam's laughter.

Wrenching Dean away, avoiding his limbs and fists as his son tried to break free of his grip John all but threw him out of the room, closing the heavy door behind them to try to give them some sort of privacy from Sam.

Dean pulled free from Johns arms and started to pace around the small area, grinding his teeth audibly, hands coming up to pull at his short hair.

"Dean, go upstairs, go to sleep." John told him. "You're exhausted and drained, you need to take care of yourself before you take care of Sam."

"Never did that before." Dean said with a snort. "Always put that little brat before me."

"And now you need to start." John told him firmly. He reached out and physically turned Dean, all but shoving him towards the stairs. "Go, I'll watch over him and take care of him."

Dean wavered but then his exhaustion seemed to hit him as he seemed to rock for a moment, eyes clouding before he groaned and shook his head, rubbing at his eyes.

"You sure you can handle it?" Dean asked, and it made John's heart clenched at his words.

"Yeah, I'm sure." he said, not even sure himself but he had to be at the very least confident. If not for him than for Dean, just to let his son go off and rest for a bit. "Go son, it'll be fine."

It spoke volumes about how tired Dean really was that he just glanced towards Sam's room once more before he turned and slowly dragged himself upstairs, each step sounding heavier than the other.

John let out a deep breath, slowly turning to look towards the room as he tried to steel himself. He needed a few extra moments to do so, not even close to being ready to go back into that room and face his youngest.

If he thought about it anymore, he would go insane and talk himself out of it, so he forced himself to walk and go back into the room, trying to ignore the sulfur in the air.

Sam turned his head to look at him, eyes narrowing slightly when he saw that it was just John and that Dean was no longer with him. He bared his teeth at him, not blinking as he followed John as he walked closer.

It was like trying to approach a rabid animal, and based on the fact that Sam had just bitten Dean the analogy wasn't that far off.

"Just you and me now Sam." John told him, walking around the cot. Sam's eyes followed him without blinking, a strange emotion curling in them. "Deans not going to come back for a while."

Sam didn't react to that, not that John knew what kind of reaction he was looking for. He noted that Sam was tugging at the handcuffs around his wrists, his wrists were rubbed red and raw and John was sure that they were close to bleeding.

Dean had mentioned that Sam had clawed at himself to try to get to his own blood in the absence of demon blood. The few things he knew about withdrawal, he knew that this wasn't going to be pretty.

He had seen it more than a few times but it had mainly been alcohol withdrawal. Back when he had been in training and in Vietnam, the soldiers had no access to any kind of liquor, some of them had resorted to stealing and drinking rubbing alcohol from the medics tents.

Nothing good happened to them and nothing good happened to the other soldiers that tried to refrain and grit through the withdrawal symptoms.

Most of them didn't come back regardless, he wasn't sure if it had been the withdrawal or just their lack of luck.

But regardless, at the very least, he knew bits and pieces of what to expect and how to make it just that little bit easier for his kid.

First things first, fluids. They had to make sure that Sam kept drinking water and if necessary, have an iv at hand. Dean had left a few water bottles on the ground next to the cot and John picked one up.

Immediately Sam tensed up enough that he could even see it from the corner of his eye.

Sighing to himself John instead went to the sink and turned it on, grabbing a cloth to wet it properly. The first aid kit was still open at the side of the cot where Dean had to use it and once he crossed over to it he rummaged through it for some bandages.

Sam tried to move as far away as he could from him but John ignored it, grabbing his arm and dragging him back to him as he sat down on the side of the cot. Bringing the washcloth up he started to clean the reddened skin at Sams wrist.

"Dean said you understand us, so I'm going to speak, feel free to add whatever you want." John told him as he worked. "I don't know what Azazel told you but whatever he said, he's lying. He doesn't give a damn about you and he's not your father."

He refused to flinch when Sam laughed at that, leering at him as well. Even though it hurt to do so, John met his gaze levelly.

"Azazel is a demon, he's lying to you." he repeated. "Dean and I, we're your family. He's your brother, I'm your father."

The only answer that he got was a scoff and a roll of the eyes and he hated how much comfort he took in that in its familiarity.

At the very least he knew that his stubborn as hell son was still somewhere in there.

"I don't care how long it takes or what we have to do to convince you." John continued, wrapping the bandages around his wrist, needing to move the handcuff enough to do so.

"We're not giving up on you Sammy."

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