Chapter 3

A/N: Dedicated to Sylia91. Thanks also to Soar, JuliaAurelia, and Sinead-Conlan.

Officer David Reese and his partner, Officer Pete Johnson, walked alongside the gurney that the orderly was wheeling toward the elevator. The man on the stretcher was being brought back from x-ray and if it was clear, he would be released into the custody of the officers.

"I'm glad those two boys are going to be okay," Officer Johnson said. "There's nothing I hate more than drunk drivers."

"Hey, Pete," Officer Reese addressed his partner. "We got a problem." He looked up just in time to see the father of the boys pushing his youngest son in a wheelchair. It was obvious that the man had heard what was said, and knew exactly who he was looking at, and from the look on his face, it was easy to tell what was going through his mind.

Pete Johnson looked up and saw a man barrelling toward them. His face was deep scarlet, there was a vein pulsing in his forehead, and his hands were curled into fists. The scariest thing though, was his eyes. There was no mistaking the murderous rage in them.

Pete and David reacted instantly. They both stepped in front of the man they were guarding, and it felt as if they had been rammed by a tank when John slammed into them, trying to get at the man behind them. The two officers were glad they were both there, because there was no way one of them would have been able to stop the distraught father.

"Calm down, John," Pete instructed sharply.

David cringed. He knew the effect those words had on the man.

"CALM DOWN? HE ALMOST KILLS MY SONS AND YOU'RE TELLING ME TO BE CALM? LET ME GO!" John yelled, struggling to get out of their grip.

"Mr. Winchester, please," David said softly. "If it was up to me, I'd give you five minutes alone with him, but getting yourself arrested won't help, and you're scaring your son."

John's head whipped around and he saw Sam sitting in the wheelchair, looking like he was trying not to cry. The nurse who had been accompanying them looked pretty scared herself. That had a sobering effect on John like nothing else.

He walked back over to Sam and knelt before his son. "I'm so sorry, Sammy," he said genuinely.

"Can we just go see Dean, dad?" Sam pleaded tiredly.

"Sure, kiddo," he said reaching out and ruffling the too-long hair of his younger son. He stood and turned back to the officers. "You tell him he's lucky, and I don't mean the fact that he survived the wreck."

John went back behind Sam's chair and they continued on their way to the elevator.

-----

They got off on the orthopaedic floor and were led down the hall to room 333. Dr. Curtis met them there and took a moment to explain what they would see.

Despite knowing what to expect, it still didn't really prepare the father and son.

Dean was lying prone on the bed. John and Sam were relieved to see that Dean wasn't hooked up to a ventilator and was breathing on his own. There was a nasal cannula resting under his nostrils, and the IV in the back of his hand was connected to a bag of clear fluids, and a dark red bag of blood. There was a blood pressure cuff wrapped around his upper left arm and the colored wires snaking out from under his hospital gown were attached to a heart monitor. The resulting beeping sound was usually a source of irritation, but this time, both John and Sam found it reassuring.

That wasn't what was getting to John and Sam because, unfortunately, they were used to it. It was the traction frame. It looked like something right out of a medieval torture chamber. The top of Dean's left leg was wrapped in bandages, and underneath it was a sling that elevated his thigh off the bed, and extended down the length of his leg. His ankle was wrapped to help protect it from the metal on the supporting frame underneath it, and his foot was resting flat against a metal foot plate that kept it straight. The leg was held in place, not only by the sling, but a series of complicated weights and pulleys. It was hard to tell what went where, except for the weight that was attached to a surgical pin that went through the skin just above Dean's knee, and was attached to its own pulley and weight. A small bar, attached to a chain that looked like a trapeze swing, hung near Dean's chest. If he needed to sit up, he could use it to pull himself upright.

Dean was still asleep. Dr. Curtis said that he had been sedated for the evening. His skin was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes. John could see Dean's hated freckles standing out in stark contrast. He would never tell anyone, but he loved Dean's freckles. They somehow made Dean seem younger than his years, and John was reminded of the little boy Dean had once been. His eldest would probably think he was crazy for thinking such a thing.

"Does that hurt him?" Sam asked pointing to the traction frame.

John wanted to know that as well, but didn't want to ask for fear of what the doctor would say.

"It actually helps his pain," Dr. Curtis explained to the Winchesters' relief. "It's keeping the bones aligned and reduces pressure at the fracture sites. He will be in some pain, but he's getting medication in his IV."

"He'll be okay though, right?" Sam pleaded to the doctor. His dad had said he would, but Sam needed confirmation.

"He'll be fine. A lot of this equipment is just precautionary. If there are no complications, and we're not expecting any," she added quickly. "The only thing left will be the IV. He's getting antibiotics and painkillers. We'll continue the IV meds for the next few days, and then switch him to oral meds."

"Thank God," Sam said sighing with relief. "He can come home soon, right?" Sam asked in a hopeful tone.

Unconsciously, John's hand reached out and he lightly rested it on Sam's shoulder.

Dr. Curtis pulled up a chair and sat down next to Sam, so that she was eye level with him. "I know you have questions," she said gently. "And I'll answer every one of them."

John really didn't want to listen to the details of Dean's injuries again. He had hated hearing it the first time.

"Sammy," he said before the Q&A session could get started. "Will you be alright if I go for a cup of caffeine?"

"If I can stay with Dean," Sam said firmly.

"Half an hour," John replied. His energy reserves were starting to run low, and he wasn't the one who had been in the accident. He knew that Sam had to be tired and sore. "I'll be back then to take you to your room. No arguments," he added when his youngest son looked like he was about to protest. "Dean's just going to sleep all night, and you need your rest too. You know Dean would want that."

"Okay," Sam said reluctantly. "Dr. Curtis, is that pin in his knee hurting him?"

John took one last look at his sons and stepped out the door.

-----

After downing a cup of coffee and a slice of apple pie, John made his way back to his Dean's room. He did have a brief fight with Sam about going back to his room. It was short lived though, as Sam's adrenaline was fading. He walked back down with Sam and stayed with him until he fell asleep.

The next several hours were spent going back and forth between his sons' rooms. The nurses felt sorry for him and kept him supplied with coffee and updates on how the other son was doing.

Dawn was beginning to come up over the horizon when Dean started coming around.

The beeping sound of his monitor started to increase, and John immediately positioned himself so that he would be the first thing Dean saw to prevent him from panicking.

"It's okay, son," John said as he reached out and lightly stroked Dean's hair.

Dean blinked several times, trying to clear away the cobwebs. He finally opened his eyes and kept them open, trying to get his bearings. If he'd had to guess, he was in a hospital. He could hear the annoying beep of a monitor, feel the tickle of oxygen in his nose, and the pressure of the blood pressure cuff around his arm. Whatever had happened, they were giving him the heavy drugs, because he felt like he was floating.

It was a feeling he was used to, but it was one he had never liked. They made him feel out of control and that was the one thing he hated the most. He looked around for his dad's brown eyes. No matter what had happened, or how much pain he was in, or when the drugs had him drifting, his father's eyes never failed to act as his anchor, grounding him and keeping him steady amongst any chaos. He relaxed instantly. "Dad," ground out hoarsely.

"Yeah, buddy. You're okay. You had a bit of an accident," John explained as reached over and pressed the call button.

"Accident," Dean repeated, trying to wrap his foggy head around what was happening. Then he remembered, the grinding metal, the pain, Sammy sitting next to him.

SAMMY!

"SAMMY!" he said out loud and tried to sit up.

Big Mistake! A white hot pain shot though his upper thigh, causing an involuntary whimper to escape his lips. He tried to pull his leg toward him, but the pain only increased, along with his feelings of panic when his leg wouldn't move.

"Dean, easy," he heard his father say. "You have to lay still, son. Sammy's fine, Dean. I promise. Sammy is okay. He has a few cuts and a sprained wrist, but he's fine," John emphasized.

Dean visibly relaxed. He lay back on his pillow and took stock of his injuries, and the equipment he was hardwired to. His eyes widened at the traction frame.

"It's okay," John said again. "You did a number on your leg. It'll heal," John promised. "But it's going to take awhile. You have to keep it still," he cautioned.

He didn't care about himself, just as long as Sammy was okay. It was his job to keep his brother safe and he'd failed miserably. He didn't deserve his father's comfort, as much as he wanted it. His dad should be with Sammy. He wanted to roll over on his side, but the traction wouldn't let him. He settled for turning his head and looked toward the wall. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"What for?" John asked in a confused tone.

"You told me to be careful. Sammy could have been hurt," Dean said as if it should have been obvious.

John felt like he was about to be crushed by the guilt. "It is not your fault, Dean Mathew Winchester. Do you hear me? It was some drunk. It's not your fault," he kept repeating. "I'm the one that owes you an apology. I'm so sorry I forgot about your award."

Despite his feelings of guilt, the young hunter couldn't help it. Involuntarily, his head snapped toward his father. He wasn't sure what to say, so he settled for a shrug and a hastily mumbled, "It was no big deal."

"It was," John insisted. "Because it was important to you. For what's its worth, I did read your story and I loved it. Thank you for making me the hero." Even though I don't deserve it, he added to himself.

Dean smiled sheepishly. His dad had liked what he had written. That did wonders for his mood. "I tried, like you said."

"I know, kiddo, and I'm proud of you."

With those words, Dean felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and he relaxed back onto his pillow briefly.

"The car," he said, once again trying to sit up, and growling at the stabbing pain that suddenly shot through his leg again.

"Dean, what did I tell you about lying still," John admonished lightly.

"Make sure I do, noted," Dean said, panting slightly at the pain. "What about the car, dad," he said a little worriedly.

"Nothing that can't be repaired," John promised. I hope. He actually hadn't seen the car yet. He'd been so worried about his boys that the car hadn't even registered on his mind. The only thing the former mechanic knew was that it was in an impound yard. He was really glad that the weapons trunk had been emptied, to clean them all for the upcoming hunt. The problem was that Dean would be upset if the car was a write off, he blamed himself even though he'd had nothing to do with it. He'd get Bobby to help. There was almost nothing Bobby couldn't fix.

"Good," Dean said and John had to fight back a smile.

"Hi Dean, I'm Dr. Curtis," a new voice said. "It's good to see you awake."

John and Dean looked up to see Dean's doctor entering the room. "Can I go home?" Dean asked.

"Sorry," Dr. Curtis said apologetically. "Not for a couple weeks."

"Weeks? But I want to go home," Dean said almost whining.

"Sorry, kiddo," John said. "You're stuck in the medieval torture device until your leg starts to heal."

"That sucks," Dean muttered.

"I agree," John replied. "Just try to relax, okay buddy."

"Go check on Sammy," Dean insisted. "Make sure he's okay."

Knowing it was the only way he'd get Dean to relax, he agreed. Dean closed his eyes and soon drifted off back to sleep.

-----

Shortly after Dean drifted off, John knew he had some planning to do. He would be glad when Sam was discharged, but it did make him realize that he would need to make arrangements for his youngest. There would be no hunting until Dean was discharged. He couldn't leave Sam at the house alone, and he couldn't risk Dean's recovery.

He needed a game plan, much like when he was on a hunt. He rose, exited the room and went to the nurses' station and asked about getting some paper and a pen. He checked on Dean and headed back to sit with Sam for a while.

He took a seat next to his son's bed. The very first thing he needed to do was make arrangements to rent a car until the Impala could be repaired, and it would be repaired. John knew that cars back then were made from steel and not fiberglass, like the cars of today. It had probably gone a long way to saving Dean's life, or at the very least, reducing the injuries the boys had received. Probably could even take a hit from a semi, John thought ruefully. He also knew he needed to make arrangements for Sam.

He could drop Sam off at his school, and drive by the high school and pick up Dean's work so he wouldn't fall behind. Then he'd swing by the hospital, visit with Dean, go to the university library and do some research on a couple of legends, whose victims were similar to the way Mary had died. Then he could go pick up Sam, drive him to the hospital to see Dean, because he knew that Sam wasn't going to go a day without wanting to see his big brother. He could collect Dean's assignments, take Sam home and get him dinner.

He would give anything for the accident not to have happened, but he was actually looking forward to spending more time with his sons. He hadn't been around much lately. He smiled. He definitely would be able to pull of this off. How hard could it be?

TBC

Please remember to read and review.