A/N: Thanks for all your reviews everyone. I'm sorry that I haven't replied to everyone personally yet. I have them stored in my inbox so I will get to them eventually.

Thanks, as always, goes to Soar, JuliaAurelia, and Sinead-Conlan who all helped with this chapter.

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

Putting the finishing touches on his journal notes, John laid down his pen and stretched. He'd been hunched over the table for the last 35 minutes, trying to formulate a plan of attack for the incubus.

He had been pouring over the information he'd gotten on a succubus, trying to find out where he went wrong, and why he could have made such a big error. Mistakes like that couldn't be tolerated, they could cost you your life.

Even after a half hour, he was still trying pinpoint the exact spot where he'd gone wrong, but he was having a lot of trouble concentrating. He kept feeling like he was forgetting something big.

He checked his watch and wished he'd asked the boys to come back here first from the library before they went to fun zone. He wouldn't normally allow it, but the boys were off school for the next two days for end of term, and he had said yes because he wanted to take them with him on this hunt. He figured if he let Sam go out for an evening with his friends, he was a lot less likely to object to going hunting.

He had just finished recording what he knew about an incubus and he wished he could afford a computer. His hunting buddy Jefferson had told him about this thing called the internet, and how you could find anything with a few key strokes. He wanted to see that. It would save a lot of time on research.

Realizing there was not much more he could do before the boys got back, John went to the fridge looking for a beer. He opened the door and realized there was none to be found. He went to get his wallet and realized that it was as bare as the fridge. He'd have to send Dean to go hustle pool tomorrow. The kid was good. Not as good as his old man yet, but he was getting there. Maybe he could find a poker game as well. Dean's skills there far outranked John's. He couldn't wait until Dean was a couple years older and he could take him to Vegas.

Patience was never John's strong suit. The TV only got 3 channels and there was nothing on and he had nothing else to do. He couldn't wait to get the information he needed and go hunting. There was nothing like the thrill and adrenaline rush of taking out some supernatural fugly. He hoped it would be enough to pull Dean out of the funk he'd been in the last week.

He couldn't figure it out. It seemed like something was bothering Dean, but when John asked, he said he was fine. John wondered if there was some girl Dean wanted to go out with. Maybe she had turned him down. He doubted it though, because Dean usually rebounded quickly. If someone shot him down, and it didn't happen often, kid was a Winchester after all, he accepted defeat and moved on. John had drilled into his son's head from an early age that no means no.

He didn't think that was it though. The look on Dean's face when Sam had informed him that he had no plans flashed in his mind. Dean had thought he had successfully hid it, but John knew his boy. For whatever reason, that statement had hurt Dean badly, and John was at a loss to know why. That nagging feeling that the answer was right in front of him flared up again.

Deciding he needed beer, he went down the hall to the boys' room. Dean had told him that he'd had 30 dollars in there if he needed it for emergencies. Pushing down the guilt, as beer wasn't really an emergency, he pulled open the desk drawer and found the money. He pulled out 10 bucks and put the rest back and closed the drawer.

The garbage can was sitting next to the dresser and when John went to stand up, the red marking on the cover caught his eye. Maybe that was why Dean was sulking. Maybe he had failed another test. If he had tried to hide it... his thoughts trailed off.

He looked down and saw the A+ on the cover, right above Dean's name and the title of the report, In the Company of Dragons. Suddenly that thought made itself known, loud and clear.

About a week ago, Dean had come home from school excited that he could show his father the A+ he'd earned in his weakest subject. He'd even won an award.

"Crap," John said out loud. The award Dean won with this essay. There was an award ceremony where Dean was getting a plaque and a check. He'd asked his dad and brother to go see him be honored for his accomplishment.

Guilt came crashing down on John's shoulder. It was so bad it threatened to overwhelm him. He had been on Dean's case about his school work for weeks now, telling him to buckle down, and Dean had done just that. He'd done so well that he'd won something and he wanted his father to see that he was trying. Dean, who never asked for anything in his life, had asked his father and brother to do this one thing for him, and they had both forgotten.

If we were there, I should be the one getting an award, John thought to himself. "Worst father of the year goes to John Winchester," he said out loud. What was hitting him the hardest was that Dean had thrown the story in the garbage.

He didn't care what he had to do, but he was going to make this up to his son. He'd go hustle pool and get some money, and when Dean and Sam came home, he'd take them out to celebrate, but before he could do any of that, there was one thing he had to do.

John pulled the chair out from behind the desk, sat down, and began to read.

-----

RING RING

John groaned when he heard the phone start to ring. He was just getting to the good part. Onathan'Jay, John felt proud that he was in Dean's story, had just found out where the fire beast lived and was going to go take it out. He didn't want to stop. He wanted to see if the black dragon won.

RING RING

Reluctantly, John put down the story and went to go answer the phone.

RING RING

Hold your horses, I'm coming already, he thought irritably.

RING RING

Suddenly, a cold feeling overcame the hunter, and he didn't want to pick up that phone. Stop being so paranoid. It's probably the school wondering where Dean was. Just what are you going to tell them? Dean wasn't there because you're an inconsiderate asshole.

RING RING

Grabbing the phone from its cradle, John held it up to his ear. "What?" he growled.

"Is this John Winchester?" came a timid voice on the other end.

"Why?" he shot back.

"I need to get in touch with him. This is Alice MacIntyre. I work at reception at County General Hospital. "

All color drained from John's face. He felt like his heart was about to beat right out of his chest. Oh God, no. He was a terrible father, but his boys were all he had. He couldn't lose them.

"This is John," he said trying to keep his voice from shaking, all the while praying to a god he didn't believe in that she wasn't about to say what he thought she was going to say.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Winchester, but there's been an accident."

-----

The double doors to the emergency room burst open and a frantic man stormed through. When he had gotten the news of the accident, John had dropped the phone and ran next door, asking to borrow their car. He was glad that they had said yes, because if they had said no, John was just going to hotwire it anyway.

He pushed two interns out of the way and ignoring the death glares, he rushed up to the administration desk and pushed another man away from the counter.

"You called me," he said frantically. "My boys, where are they?"

"First you have to calm down, sir," the young receptionist said to the distraught man.

"Don't tell me to calm down, damn it. Someone here calls me and tells me that I need to get here as soon as possible because there was an accident and my boys were involved, and I'm expected to be calm? What kind of drugs are you smoking, lady?"

"If you can't behave in a civilized manner, I will have you removed," she said firmly.

"Listen, you little..." John started, his tone growing deadly.

"It's okay, Alice, I got this," a uniformed officer said coming over. He had a feeling he knew who this was, and he reached out a hand and laid it on the man's shoulder, hoping to offer a bit of comfort.

Bad idea. John shook it off and almost took a swing at the officer, but he managed to restrain himself. He did not need to get himself arrested. "Back off," he growled. "I don't want trouble. I just want to find my boys."

"If you would ca..." the officer paused. The words calm down seemed to have an opposite effect. "Listen," he substituted. "Are you John Winchester?"

"Yes. Where are Dean and Sam? They're okay, right? Tell me they're okay?" John pleaded as the adrenaline started to wear off and the fight drained out of him.

"Come with me," the officer said trying to lead him away.

"Just tell me where Sam and Dean are, please," he said all but begging. "They... I need... where are they?" he growled, but there was no force behind it.

"I'm Officer Reese," the uniformed man said. "I was the responding officer at the scene."

"I don't give a flying fu..." John yelled, his anger starting to make a come back. He was so close and no one would tell him anything.

"Mr. Winchester," the officer said cutting him off. "If you would let me speak, I was asked to wait here and bring you to the paediatric unit when you arrived."

"Are they okay?" John repeated.

"I don't know," Officer Reese said honestly as he led John toward the elevator. "I just know that the younger boy..."

"Sammy," John interrupted.

"Sammy," Officer Reese repeated. "He was conscious when the ambulance arrived. He was screaming bloody murder when we pulled him away from his brother. Healthy set of lungs on that one."

"That's Sammy alright. What about Dean?"

"We're still investigating, but from what we can tell, a drunk driver ran the light and slammed into the driver's side of the car. Dean wasn't conscious at the scene, but he was breathing," Officer Reese added quickly. "He was pinned in the car and it took a bit of effort to get him out. That's about all I know at this point."

Before John could say anything, the elevator doors pinged and John and the officer stepped out. Officer Reese had a few words with the nurse at the desk and soon John found himself being led to a private waiting room, and told the doctor would be with him shortly.

John paced back and forth in the small room. He was giving them five minutes and then he was going to go find his sons, even if he had to bust down every door in this god damn hospital to do it.

Just as he was about to go storming off, a man showed up.

"Mr. Winchester, I'm Dr. Perry. Your son, Sam, is under my care."

"How is he?" John blurted out.

"First, I want to put your mind at ease. Both your sons should be fine."

John visibly sagged with relief. The last of his adrenaline finally wore off and he sat down heavily. "Can I see them?" he requested.

"I'll take you to see Sam in a minute."

"What about Dean?" John said, fear creeping into his voice.

"Dean's in surgery."

"You said he was alright," John accused.

"He was stable when they took him to the OR. Mr. Winchester, let me say your boys were lucky."

"Never mind the platitudes. Just tell me," John said trying to keep his temper under control. Now that he had confirmation that his sons would be fine, it was flaring up again.

"Sam escaped with minor injuries. He has some cuts and bruises. One of the cuts on his arm needed seven stitches, but the scarring should be minimal. He's got a nasty black eye, and he banged his head, but he fortunately doesn't seem to have a concussion. His right wrist is swollen, but X-rays revealed it was just a bad sprain and not broken. He'll need to take it easy for the next few days as he's going to be sore. We're going to hold him overnight for observation, but we're not expecting any complications."

"Dean?" John asked. "You said he's in surgery?"

"Yes. He was unconscious at the scene, but he was breathing on his own when he was brought into the ER. Like Sam, he has several cuts and contusions."

"I'm hearing a but in there," John said worriedly.

"Dean's left leg was badly broken. The medical term is a compound, comminuted fracture of the femur."

"You'll have to speak English," John requested. Damn doctors.

"A comminuted fracture means that there is more than one fracture line in the bone, and 2 or more fragments at the fracture site. One of the bone fragments broke through the skin, which is what a compound fracture is. He was extremely lucky that the fragments didn't hit the femoral artery bundle in his leg. As it was, he lost a lot of blood, so between that and the shock, it's not surprising he didn't regain consciousness before he went into surgery."

A new fear struck John. He didn't want to ask the doctor the question that had suddenly popped into his mind.

"His leg... it's going to... I mean he's not... you don't..." he couldn't even say the word.

"Amputate?" the doctor supplied. John nodded. "I doubt it. We have a top notch orthopaedics department here. Dean's going to be looking at a long recovery, though. The surgeon will be able to tell you more. So if you want to follow me, I'll take you to see Sam and you can wait with him until Dr. Curtis, who's operating on Dean, can come see you."

"Thanks doc," John said as he rose and followed Dr. Perry out the door.

-----

"Sam, will you please take these," a nurse said to the stubborn boy in the bed.

"No," he said firmly. "I want my brother. Where is he? Why won't anyone tell me where he is?"

"Sam," John said with relief. He'd never thought he'd say this, but the sound of Sam complaining was music to his ears.

Sam's attention was directed toward the doorway of the room. "Dad," he said sounding a lot younger than his 13 years.

"I'm here, Sammy," John went directly to the bed and hugged his youngest.

Sam couldn't hold back anymore. "Daddy," he said as his fears came out of him. "There was so much blood and Dean wouldn't wake up. They won't tell me anything. Where's Dean, daddy?" Sam sobbed.

"He's going to be okay, Sammy. The doctors are fixing him now," John said hugging his youngest son tight. The daddy had almost done him in. "He's going to be okay."

"Excuse me," the nurse said again. "We really need you to take these." She held the pill cup and water glass out again.

"What are they for?" John asked.

"Some Tylenol for pain, and a mild sedative. You need your rest," she insisted.

"Don't make me, dad, please," Sam requested. "I want to see Dean."

"How about you take the Tylenol and just lay here and try to sleep. I promise to wake you when the doctor comes in."

"Okay," Sam agreed.

"Trust me," John mouthed to the nurse when she looked like she was about to protest.

"He needs his rest," she insisted.

"He'll get it," John said firmly.

The nurse finally relented and just gave Sam the painkiller. Sam lay back on his pillow. "Close your eyes," John instructed. Sam obeyed. He reached out and ran his fingers through Sam's long curls and did something he hadn't done in a long time. "Once upon a time..." he said.

Sam cracked one eye.

"Go with it," John said, pleased when Sam did as requested once again. "There was a young prince name Samuel..." John told the story he had just read.

It wasn't long before Sam drifted off with a smile on his lips.

John lost track of how long he sat there, so he startled when he heard a voice behind him.

"John Winchester?" she asked.

"Yeah?"

"I'm Dr. Sylia Curtis. I have news on your other son."

"How's Dean?" John immediately asked. He glanced toward Sam and decided against waking him. He could fill him in later.

"He should be fine," Dr. Curtis confirmed.

"Thank God," John said visibly sagging with relief.

"Did Dr. Perry fill you in?" she inquired.

"He said that Dean's leg was broken. A compacted, commen something fracture."

"Compound, comminuted fracture," Dr. Curtis corrected. "We cleaned out the fragments and attached some plates to stabilize the bone. Right now, what's concerning is the compound fracture. It was quite serious. He was extremely lucky that the artery wasn't torn. We used an intermedullary rod, which is just a medical term for a steel rod, and inserted it directly into the center of the bone, which reconnects the two ends of the broken bone and is held in place with screws both above and below the fracture site. We can't cast the leg right now because the incisions have to heal, so we have Dean's leg in traction to keep it immobilized while it's healing. There's a surgical pin that goes through your son's leg, right above the fracture, that's attached to the traction frame. It can be a little scary when you see it for the first time, but just remember it's there to help Dean."

"How long?" John asked a little apprehensively. Dean was not going to take the news of forced inactivity very well.

"Two to three weeks in traction. 6-8 weeks in a cast after that, then he'll need physical therapy to build strength back up in the leg. With no complications, Dean should make a complete recovery in 4 to 5 months."

"Months," John said in disbelief. It was a broken leg.

"Yes," Dr. Curtis confirmed.

"Is he in pain?" John had to know.

"We can give him medicine, and as long as he follows instructions and doesn't touch the weights or pulleys on the traction frame, it should greatly reduce it, but he will be in some pain," Dr. Curtis said honestly.

John made a mental note to leave strong instructions with his eldest to leave everything he was attached to alone. Dean had a nasty habit of pulling IV lines. "I want to see him."

"He's being moved up the orthopaedic unit. He should be settled within the hour. When he is, I'll come and get you."

"Sam," John said. "He's going to insist on seeing Dean. Is that going to be a problem?"

"No," Sylia replied. "He just needs to know what to expect when he sees his brother. So I'll come and let you know, and I'll arrange for a wheelchair and you can go visit him together."

"Thanks," John said gratefully.

-----

"Dad," a sleepy voice muttered behind him.

John looked up. "Hey, sleepyhead," he teased gently. "Dean's okay," he confirmed before Sam could say anything. "He's got a broken leg. He's going to be laid up for a while, but I promise he'll be fine." He leaned over and pressed the call button. He knew what was coming next.

"I want to see him," Sam said speaking the expected words.

"You will. Just let me arrange for wheelchair."

"I'm fine," Sam protested.

"I know, kiddo, but it's hospital policy."

It wasn't long before Dr. Curtis showed up. She gave Sam and John a quick run down of what to expect when they got to Dean's room.

-----

John pushed Sam's wheelchair down the hall toward the elevator. Things would have been fine, except that on the way, they passed a man handcuffed to a gurney being wheeled down the hall toward them. There were two officers present. John could hear them talking about how they were glad the two boys who had been hit by this drunk were going to be okay.

He was staring at the man that almost took his sons from him.

Sam felt his wheelchair stop dead. He looked up to his father. He could see the storm clouds that had descended over John's face. "Dad," Sam said and reached for his father's hand a fraction of a second too late. The next thing Sam saw was his father heading straight for the man. He knew this wasn't going to end well.

TBC

A/N: I'm pretty sure that the website I got my medical information from was written for 4th year med students, so I hope you'll forgive any medical inaccuracies.

Please read and review, and let me know what you think.