Two days after
The fluorescent lighting shone brightly into John's eye-slits. He wanted to close them again and drift back to sleep - or unconsciousness. Whatever state he was in before was nice. This world hurt. He lifted his right arm, and felt his broken nose. The other arm hurt too much to move. John tried to sit up but fell back right onto the uncomfortable bed.
A bed? John thought. How did I end up on a bed? He shut his eyes tightly and opened them again. The light was the same, but he had a clearer view of his surroundings. He saw a drawn mint coloured curtain.
Where am I? He stared at the ceiling and forced himself to lift his head. The room came into view. A machine came into view.
A fucking hospital.
"Sir?" A deep voice said from beside his bed. John looked up at the suited man.
"Yes?"
"I'm Mr. Smith. You're on a lot of painkillers, so I'll keep the questions short. You were attacked. Do you remember?" John thought back to how he ended up here. A flash of a fist came up. He tried to identify the fist. He had seen it before, just not directed against him. He shut his eyes tightly before opening them again.
Dean.
"Yes." John answered.
"Do you remember the attacker?"
"No." He said, slightly annoyed. He hated, fucking resented questions. Especially from "authorities", whatever the hell they were supposed to be.
"Do you remember your name?"
"John Winchester." He stated.
"Do you have any family you would like to speak to?"
"No."
"Okay. Thank you for your time. I'll ask the doctor when you can be released." Mr. Smith added a short nod before leaving. John sighed.
Twenty minutes later a doctor came in.
"Sorry about the wait Mr. Winchester, I'm doctor Harley. You can sign the release papers tomorrow morning, we just want to keep you here for observation tonight, if that's alright. There seems to be nothing drastically wrong. You've suffered a mild concussion, a broken nose, a dislocated shoulder and on the same arm, a cracked bone and a sprained wrist. Your ribs have also sustained quite a bit of bruising a a few cracks. You were lucky though, if the attacker had out a bit more force on them, they would have broken and punctured a lung. We have sown two gashes up on your side as well. You lost quite a lot of blood. Are you positive you don't know who the attacker was?"
"Yes," John lied. "He must've come up from behind."
The doctor gave his own curt nod and left.
Six days after
Antagonizing silence. Bobby palms were squeezing so tightly together that sweat was literally dripping down. Sam shrunk into himself, laying his head in between his knees. Dean lay a comforting, though wary, hand on his back. Every comforting word he had to say, seemed to stick on the tip of his tongue and never roll out.
Finally, Bobby stood up. He gestured a head movement, indicating Dean to follow. Dean slowly removed his hand, but Sam didn't seem to notice anything.
Bobby leaned against the kitchen counter.
"You have called the cops, right?" He said. Dean hesitated for a moment.
"I considered it. I didn't know how bad it was until… There are too many questions," Dean mumbled guilty. "I should have called the moment I saw it. I think I just didn't want it to be real."
Bobby gave Dean a sympathetic look.
He must be going through hell, he thought.
"So I assume you didn't bring him to a hospital either?"
"No…" Dean muttered.
Bobby should really wash his floor, Dean thought as he stared down at it.
"Too many questions?" Bobby asked.
Dean nodded.
"I told him that if he felt any discomfort, well you know like difficulty breathing or dizziness, we would go." Dean realized how stupid that was. His stubborn brother was never going to tell him if anything was wrong.
This time it was Bobby's turn to lay a comforting hand on the younger man in the room.
"I'll call them," he said with a squeeze on Dean's arm. Dean gave a small smile and went back to his still curled up brother on the couch. He turned on the television.
SPN-SPN-SPN
It was the telephone ringing, more like screeching, that woke Dean. Sam was still asleep but kept on stirring. He walked over to his younger brother and let out a gasp when his brother's eyes opened wide and alert.
"Hey Sammy," Dean said. Sam looked contemplate.
"How long have you been sitting there?" He asked. Dean let out a chuckle.
"Don't worry Sammy, I've not been creeping over you-" He was cut off by Bobby's gruff "Hello?"
Dean smiled at Sam.
The brothers both snapped their heads around when they heard a fist slamming into the counter.
Bobby's face was red.
"You fucking bastard, no way in hell!" He shouted furiously.
Figuring out who it was easier than drawing a breath.
The phone call ended in the middle of Bobby's yelling.
Nervous silence.
"Sorry for waking you Sam," Bobby grunted, eyes penetrating the phone as though John was going to call again, so that Bobby could yell at him a bit more.
"'s fine, I was already awake," Sam said with a reassuring smile. Bobby sighed realizing that John wouldn't call again.
"I'm so so sorry for all that he's done Sam."
"It's not your fault," Sam answered with again with the reassuring smile that broke Bobby's heart. Sam's smile. It was as though it was plastered on his face, like a mask hiding something his true expression.
"Anything I can get you, boys?" Bobby asked.
Sam's mind immediately jumped to one thing when the question was asked.
Jess.
A week after
Jessica needed to know more about the eldest Winchester. She re-read the article again, and again, and again, only to have her heart broken a little more every time. She was so confused and needed to know more.
She needed answers.
She needed to find John Winchester.
A/N: Thanks for reading and for the awesome reviews! :D