Sorry for the long wait. I don't really have an excuse expect real life.
This chapter is dedicated to Sylia91, thanks for your patience.
I would also like to thank Soar for the beta and Sinead-Conlan and JuliaAurelia for their feedback.
Disclaimer: Still don't own them.
Chapter 5.
It was a couple of hours later when John finally managed to convince Sam that it would be okay for them to leave. Dean had succumbed to the effects of his medication about an hour earlier, and was now sleeping peacefully. Taking advantage of the situation, because he knew he'd never get away with it if Dean was awake, John planted a kiss on the forehead of his eldest son and led Sam to the car.
"Hey, Sammy," John said to his youngest as he put the keys in the ignition.
"Yeah," Sam mumbled tiredly.
"Did you have a toothache or something?" John inquired.
"No," Sam said, a touch of confusion in his tone. "Why?"
"Just wondering. Do you go to the dentist often?" Sam's dentist appointment had been on his mind all day, because he honestly couldn't remember the last time he had done something so mundane as make an appointment for his kids to have their teeth checked.
"Friggin' Dean makes me," he grumbled. "First thing he does when we get into town is find the free clinics. Have to go about every 6 months. He told me the order came from you. Did it?" Sam asked hoping he could get out of more visits. There was nothing he hated more than a trip to the dentist.
"Yes," John covered. "I was, um, just making sure he followed it. Uh, Sammy, does Dean go himself?"
"When he can get an appointment. It's not always easy, though. If there's no free clinic, he usually just gets me an appointment somewhere. He never goes then."
How did he pay for that? "Does that happen often?" John inquired.
"No, Dean's a genius at finding those stupid clinics. Don't know how he does it," Sam admitted.
Maybe it was time for him to find out, John wondered.
-----
BBBBBBBZZZZZZZZZ
A loud groan accompanied the buzzing alarm clock. A short time later, a hand snaked out from under a mound of blankets, smacked the snooze button, and then quickly made its way back under the covers.
It seemed like he had just gotten back to sleep when the annoying sound resonated again throughout the small room.
John Winchester sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He had spent the past three days hanging around the hospital, and he wondered how that could have tired him out so much. He knew it was more mental tiredness than physical, though.
He'd been right about Dean not changing overnight. He'd spent the last three days trying to reason with his stubborn son. He'd tried to go the tough love route and make Dean admit that he needed his pain meds, but when it got bad, he didn't have the heart to make Dean work through his stubbornness. He'd had to make the first revision to his plan, so instead of going to the library, he'd spend the majority of the time Sam was in school at the hospital. He'd just make a quick stop at the library and "borrow" some books. He didn't trust Dean, and the thought of his son laying there all day, alone and in pain, was going against every fatherly instinct he had.
Money was also still a big concern. The meeting at the hospital accounting office had not gone well. The payment schedule they were insisting on was more than he could afford. He'd had to fork over most of the thousand dollars from Dean's check to keep them happy. Rent was also coming due, so he decided that after he dropped Sam off with Dean that evening, he'd have to go hustle some pool.
BBBBBZZZZZZZZZ
The alarm clock sounded again, drawing John out of his thoughts. He reached over and switched it off and reluctantly pulled the covers off, shivering when his bare feet touched the cold tiles on the floor. He looked around for the socks he had discarded the night before. He finally located them, pulled them on, and then headed toward the kitchen.
He paused to look in at his youngest son. Sam was sleeping peacefully, for which John was grateful. He'd only asked for his pills a couple of times. John was thankful that at least one of his boys had the sense to admit he needed help.
He was still thinking about ways to get through to Dean when he entered the kitchen. Anything he was contemplating flew right out of his head though, when he entered the doorway and he promptly put his foot down into a big puddle of water.
"Crap," he growled. Looking down, he saw that there was a small flood in the kitchen. He could vaguely recall Dean asking if he would have a look at the pipe under the sink. He kept promising he would, but had never gotten around to it. He had completely forgotten about it actually. Not bothering to hold back several curse words, John opened the cupboards under the sink and found the source of the leak. He turned the valves off, effectively stopping the water, for now. With a deep sigh, he grabbed the mop and did his best to get rid of the lake that used to be the kitchen floor.
It took longer than he thought it would, and as he put the mop back in the broom closet, he glanced at the clock. He had to get Sam up soon or he was going to be late for school. He then decided that he didn't care if Sam was late. The kid had just been in a car accident, he doubted anyone would care.
Breakfast was the first task of the day. He looked through the cupboards and reminded himself, once again, that he needed to grocery shop. They had been eating out the last couple of days, but John had to put a stop to it because it was getting expensive. He found some instant oatmeal, and a bag with 2 pieces of bread. They were slightly stale but edible. John plugged in the kettle for the oatmeal, put the bread in the toaster, and went down the hall to get dressed.
-------
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
Sam bolted out of bed at the sound of the fire alarm, his heart pounding. He ran down the hall and when he saw all the smoke coming out of the kitchen, he relaxed slightly. He had a feeling he knew what it was. Sure enough, the source of the smoke was the toaster. Sam went to the counter and unplugged it, grabbed a dish towel and started fanning it under the blaring alarm.
"Sammy," John yelled in a panicked tone. Fire filled his worst nightmares.
"It's okay, dad. Nothing is actually burning, except the toast. You have to stay and watch it because the button sticks. I opened the window," Sam called from the hallway where he was waving a dish towel under the smoke detector, trying to get it to stop.
"I got it," John said, taking a broom and smacking at it, until it came off the ceiling and landed on the floor with a thump.
"Now we don't have a fire alarm," Sam pointed out.
"But we have silence," John said. He had a headache already and it didn't seem to be going away anytime soon. "I'll fix it later. Go get dressed and I'll get your breakfast."
"Yes sir," Sam replied and headed back to his room.
He joined his father in the kitchen shortly afterward. He coughed a bit from the left over smoke, and stared at the bowl of oatmeal that was sitting in front of him. He looked at it in disgust. "Dean always makes pancakes," he announced. He was not a picky eater. With the food budget he couldn't afford to be, you ate what was in front of you or you went hungry, but there was one food Sam hated with a passion, and that was oatmeal. Even adding maple syrup and sugar to it didn't change that fact. It was still oatmeal.
"Eat it, Sammy," John said firmly.
"But I hate oatmeal. Dean knows how much I hate it, and he makes me pancakes," Sam said in an accusatory tone.
"Then throw it in the garbage. Let it go to waste," John snapped, trying to reign in his temper. He wasn't in the mood to get into a fight with his youngest this morning. "We're running late. It's either that or you go hungry."
Sam glared that the lumpy mess in front of him. "Can we stop at Burger King?"
"No," John said trying not to snap at his youngest. "Breakfast is on the table. You don't like it, that's too bad."
Sam transferred his glare from the oatmeal to his father. "But I'm hungry," he said, trying to play on his father's sympathy.
"Then eat your breakfast," John pointed out.
"No," Sam said stubbornly. "I hate oatmeal."
Knowing he was going to get nowhere, John decided it wasn't worth fighting over. The only problem was that he had almost no money, so he literally couldn't afford to eat out. "I'll spring for a bagel at the coffee shop," John compromised.
Not wanting to press his luck, Sam said that was fine and went to grab his back pack, while his father got the keys. He followed his father out the door, bumping into him when John stopped abruptly.
"Watch where you're going," John growled.
"Sooorrry," Sam said sarcastically. "You're the one that stopped dead in the first place."
"Knock it off," John said in a warning tone.
Peeking around his father, Sam could see what had his father so upset. It had snowed the night before and the ploughs had been around, and there was now a big snow drift at the end of driveway, effectively blocking the car.
"Sam, go get your bro..." John stopped abruptly. "The shovel," he finished.
"Sure dad, do you need help?"
"No. I don't want you straining your wrist. Go inside. It's cold out here. I'll call you when I'm done."
Re-affirming his vow about going to South Beach, John bent over and got to work.
-----
The drive to the junior high school was silent, John was lost in thought, and Sam was reading one of his books. He had been planning to go to the grocery store after stopping by the hospital, and then he realized that he had no idea what his sons liked and didn't. They usually ate what was put in front of them, but were there foods they couldn't eat, foods they were allergic to? John felt like such a failure again when he realized that he didn't know.
"Hey, Sammy," John said, trying to keep his tone light and make it look like he was not fishing for answers. "I'm headed to the grocery store this afternoon, is there anything else that offends your delicate palate?"
"No," Sam replied.
"What about your brother?"
"Dean's not fussy. He'd eat the dishrag if you dipped it in sauce. The oatmeal's his. He eats it when…" Sam stopped abruptly. He really didn't want to finish that thought.
"When?" came John's expected reply.
"Um..." Sam hesitated.
"Sammy?" John probed. "What were you about to say?"
"It's cheap and it lasts a long time. Sometimes when you... you know...if you're..." He stopped again.
"When I'm late getting back from a hunt and the money runs out," John guessed. Sam's silence confirmed John's thoughts. "What do you eat then?"
"Pancakes. Dean always makes sure there're pancakes for me. They're my favourite. Can you..."
"Get some pancakes," John finished. "Sure, kiddo." He reached over and ruffled Sam's too long curls. He was really going to have to cut Sam's hair soon. "I'll pick you up at three, right here," John instructed. "Then we'll head to the hospital."
"'Kay. What about lunch?" Sam asked.
"What about it?" John asked.
"Dean usually makes my lunch," Sam stated as if it should have been obvious.
"Why are you just mentioning this now?" John said in disbelief.
Sam shrugged, further fuelling John's temper. He reached into his wallet and handed Sam a couple of dollars. "What?" he asked when he saw the look Sam gave him.
"Hot lunches are five dollars. Six if you want dessert."
Grumbling to himself, John forked over another 3 dollars to go with the two he had handed Sam earlier.
"De..." Sam started.
"Don't!" John said in a quiet, deadly tone.
Sam recognized the unspoken warning and got out of the car without another word.
-----
"No!" John said firmly to the principal of Dean's school.
"Mr. Winchester," she argued. "There's no choice. I've reviewed Dean's grades and they aren't that good. Now, with the time he's going to be missing, I'm sure he's going to fall even further behind. Dean's going to need the extra tutoring. It's mandatory when a student's grades fall below a certain level, and Dean's right on the edge."
They had been having this argument for the last half-hour. John had simply stopped in to pick up Dean's schoolwork, and had been told that the principal wanted to see him. He suddenly felt like he was back in school. "Dean's more than capable. He's just..." John said trying to convince the lady that Dean didn't need it. He was having enough problems with his school work. Whose fault is that? Shut up, he told himself. For Dean to find out that was going to be expected to take extra tutoring would destroy any confidence he had.
"Lazy," the principal supplied. "Yes, he's very intelligent, but he doesn't try. He doesn't..."
"Hey," John growled.
"I know it's hard to hear these things, Mr. Winchester, but look at his essay, and he's part of our student mentoring program. He tutors kids in math. That shows the kind of work he'd be capable of if he just put some effort behind what he does."
"Look..." John said forcibly. Then he trailed off. Something else he had learned about his son. Guess that explained where he got the money to keep Sam in pancakes, no thanks to you. He couldn't explain that the reason Dean's grades were in the toilet was because he had the responsibility of watching his little brother while his father was off hunting demons. It made him sound like a negligent nutcase. "How about we compromise? Let's make this decision after Dean gets out of the hospital and we see where he's at."
Speaking of older sons, he really needed to go see his. He'd promised that he'd be there this morning and he was already late. He didn't want Dean thinking he wasn't going to show up.
"Alright. I don't mean to sound heartless, Mr. Winchester. I truly hope Dean feels better soon."
"Great," John said, grabbing Dean's assignments and making a break for the door, taking that as the principal's okay. He wanted to get out before she changed her mind.
------
"Mr. Winchester," he heard his name called.
John seriously debated ignoring whoever was speaking to him and just getting in the elevator, but it could be about Dean, so he groaned and turned around. "What now?" he said tiredly.
"I'm glad I caught you. I'm Ron Bellard, I'm a physical therapist at the hospital and I'll be working with Dean."
"I thought that didn't start until after he got his cast off," John said in confusion.
"He's stuck in bed right now, but we don't want his other muscles weakening, so I was showing him some exercises that he can do. I also need you to stop by the clinic sometime in the next couple of weeks to make an appointment. Before Dean's leg is casted, we're going to have to take a mould of his leg so we can get the brace he's going to need made. It can take a few weeks, so it's best to put the request in early, so that he has it when the cast comes off."
"Brace?" John said in disbelief. How much was that going to cost?
"Didn't the doctor cover that?" Ron asked.
"Um, yes," John stammered. He could remember it being mentioned briefly. "I'll be by later today or tomorrow."
"That's fine. Dean's doctor knows how to get in touch with me if you have questions."
"Thanks," John said trying to sound sincere.
John's financial worries just doubled as he walked to Dean's room.
All his plans for the next week completely went out the window. He had no choice. He was going to have to get a job.
-----
He was in a bad mood by the time he reached Dean's room. Hearing the loud voices coming out of his son's room was doing nothing to help it. Before he went in, he took a deep breath and counted to 10. He didn't want to snap at Dean, his son would think he was mad at him.
He walked into the room to find Dean's nurse and his doctor standing over him, lecturing him about the IV that was dripping on the floor.
"Dean," Dr. Curtis said with a touch of impatience. "I'm really good a putting in IVs. It's just a quick needle stick."
"I don't need it," the young hunter insisted.
"You do," Dr. Curtis tried to reason with him.
"What's going on?" John asked as he stepped into the room. "Dean, please tell me you didn't pull that," he pointed at the IV stand.
"It was an accident," Dean pleaded his case. "I was… um… just reaching for my book and it came out."
"And I suppose it was just a coincidence that I had just given you pain meds before you accidentally dislodged your IV," Nurse Ella said.
Dean looked sheepish and stared at his hands. He could feel his father's glare on him. "I don't need them," he tried.
"God damn it, Dean," John growled. "How many times do we have to do this?"
Dean just turned his head toward the wall.
Sighing deeply, John rested a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Go ahead and put it back in. Don't, Dean," John said cutting off Dean's expected protest before he could say a word.
John held Dean's right hand firmly while Dr. Curtis started a new IV, then gave him a quick exam, and determined that he hadn't done any damage to himself.
"Leave this one," Dr. Curtis said to her patient. "I mean it, Dean. Not only are you getting pain meds, but you're getting antibiotics too, and trust me, you do not want that leg getting infected. Now if you pull this one, I will have to restrain you. Are we clear?"
"Dean, answer the doctor," John said when it became clear Dean wasn't going to speak.
"Yes, ma'am," Dean huffed.
"I'll talk to him," John promised his doctor.
When the doctor and nurse left, John sat beside his son and looked him in the eye.
"You wouldn't let them restrain me, would you?" Dean asked fearfully.
"I don't want to, but if it stops you from hurting yourself, I would," John said honestly, and he couldn't look his son in the eye when Dean looked at him like he had been betrayed. "But you're not going to give them a reason to do that, are you?" John added pointedly.
"No," Dean muttered.
"Now son, tell me what's going on. Why are you so resistant to pain meds?"
"I don't need them," he insisted.
"Dean," John said trying to keep the frustration out of his tone. "The bone in your left leg has mostly been replaced by a metal rod, and is held in place by more plates and screws than you'd find on a construction site. You're stuck in traction, with a pin going through part of your leg. It hurts me just describing it. Now, tell me what the hell is going on with you."
"Nothing. I told you..."
"Fine," John ground out. "You don't need them, you don't have to take them. I'll tell Nurse Hatcher to hold them until you ask." John got up and walked out of the room, feeling like a complete bastard. He had to do this though, it was the only way Dean was going to learn.
------
John remained at his son's bedside all morning, fighting off the temptation to go rob the pharmacy. He could tell that Dean was in pain. He face bore a pinched look, was pale and taking a lot of deep breaths, as if he was trying to breathe through it.
Come on, kid, John thought.
"Think you can do some school work? I don't want you falling behind."
Dean just looked at his father like he was crazy.
"I'll let it go for now, but you really need to try and keep up." Don't do this, Dean, please. I can't take it.
"Dad, can you turn on the TV?" Dean asked through clenched teeth.
"Sure kiddo," John said going to the TV. He picked up the call button and put it in Dean's hand. "You can end this," John said. He wasn't surprised when Dean dropped it.
"Dean," John said gently. It was time to try a new tactic. He was starting to crack. "What if it was Sammy lying in this bed? You'd make him take the meds."
"That's different," Dean replied.
"How?" John asked in confusion.
"Sammy didn't ca..." Dean stopped abruptly.
"Are you punishing yourself?" John asked in disbelief. "You think you deserve this?"
"Sammy could have been hurt," Dean mumbled, not looking at his father. He gave a small whimper when he felt a white hot pain flare up his leg.
John reached over and pressed the call button. Enough was enough. If Dean felt he deserved this, he'd never give in. "Dean Mathew Winchester, it was an accident. You didn't do anything wrong. Were you driving drunk, speeding, going through a red light? No, you weren't. If I hear any more of this nonsense, I swear to God I'm going to..."
"What?" Dean snapped. "You never take meds. That time you broke your ribs, the doctor wanted to give them to you, but you refused. You said you don't like the way they made you feel. I don't either. If you don't have to take them, then why do I?"
"Because I'm your father," John shot back. That's what this was about. Dean was trying to imitate him. Trying to be tough like him. "I wanted them, son. As God is my witness, I wanted those meds. There's something you don't know about that injury, son." Dean had been hurt on that hunt, beat up by the spirit of a boy who had been bullied, and saw Dean as the jock type that had made his life a living hell. "That doctor called CPS. I needed my wits about me, so we could get out of there. There's nothing to be ashamed of in asking for pain meds, Dean, and if I hear any more nonsense about you feeling the need to punish yourself, I'll be more than happy to come up with something, and it won't be your leg that hurts when I'm done. Understand Dean Mathew?"
Dean swallowed hard. "Yes sir. Can you get Nurse Ratched, dad. It really hurts," he finally admitted.
"That wasn't so bad now, was it?" John said, glad when the nurse showed up at that moment. He sat beside Dean's bed while the nurse administered the medication, and lightly ran his fingers through Dean's hair until he drifted off to sleep.
-------
SLAM!!!!!!
The door shut so hard behind John it rattled the whole house. Sam had just managed to avoid being caught in it.
"Go do you homework," John ordered.
For once, Sam obeyed without argument. Even he wouldn't test his father in his current mood.
John's day had gone from bad to worse. After he had picked up Sam and dropped him off at the hospital, he had gone downtown to see about getting a job at one of the local garages. The only thing he was qualified to do besides hunting was be a mechanic. However, none of the garages were hiring.
He was limited as to what he could take. He needed something during the day, when Sam was in school.
He had promised Dean some M&Ms and when he had stopped at the convenience store, there was a help wanted sign in the window. One thing had gone his way that day because the owner had been in. He had three kids of his own and when John explained his situation, he had been hired. The only thing was that his shifts started at 7 in the morning. How was he going to take Sam to school? He couldn't turn the job down though. He needed the money.
Then he'd gotten into an argument with Sam at the hospital. Sam hadn't wanted to leave. Dean was out for the count, thanks to his meds, so he was no help. Finally, John just snapped and told Sam that if he didn't smarten up, he wasn't going to be allowed to visit, period.
-----
"Hey, dad," Sam called out tentatively to his father.
"What?" John asked, looking up from where he was sitting at the table.
"I was wondering if you could help me with my math. We started geometry and it's really tough."
"Sure kiddo, let me have a look," John said.
Sam took a seat next to his father and handed him his math book.
John looked over the information. This was junior high school math? This looked like it should be taught at university, or by NASA scientists.
Sam sat watching his father, trying to keep the amused smile off his face. He wasn't used to seeing his dad flustered.
"You sure you don't have Dean's book?" John asked.
"No, Dean takes calculus. He helps me every night though."
John tried to suppress his feeling of jealousy towards his eldest son. He should be able to help his boy with his homework.
"How about you do the best you can, and take it to the hospital tomorrow." John hated to admit defeat, but he had no choice.
"'Kay," Sam said reluctantly. He didn't want to fail the assignment. "Can I call Dean? Maybe he can help me over the phone."
John tensed. "No. Dean was asleep when we left and I don't want you to wake him."
Sam knew when it was time to give up. Something was up with his dad and he was determined to get the bottom of it.
------
The next day, John was expected to report to work. He didn't like it, but he had no choice about letting Sam walk to school on his own.
"Go right to school. No stops and don't talk to any strangers. Here's the number. Make sure you call me at the store when you get to school, so I know you got there safely," John cautioned as he handed Sam the number of the little store he was working at. "Go to the library after school, and I'll be there at 4:30 to pick you up."
"Can I go to Mark's after school? His place isn't too far. Then you can pick me up from there."
"I don't know Mark's parents."
"Dean does," Sam pointed out. "He lets me."
John tried to stop his fingers from curling into fists. "I said no!" He growled.
"But..."
"Samuel. When I say no, it's not up for discussion. Now I have to get to work. You will be at the library at 4:30."
"Fine," Sam huffed.
-----
For the next several days, it was much of the same. John was finding it a lot more difficult than he had thought it would be. Sam wasn't content to just be dropped off at the hospital, home and school. He was apparently involved with a lot of after school activities as well. When John asked Dean about them, his son let him know that sometimes he couldn't get to Sam right away, but that was how he knew where his brother was at all times.
It was just about a week after the accident when John realized that it was snowing again. This time he made sure get up early to shovel the drive so that neither he nor Sam was late.
He had just started when he noticed that his next door neighbor on the other side had come out with him.
"Hello," she greeted him in a friendly tone.
"Hello," John answered cautiously.
"How's Dean?" she asked. "I haven't seen him for a while."
How the hell did this woman know Dean's name. He was going to have to have a long talk with his eldest son. "He's fine," John said trying not to sound suspicious.
Not sure what to make of the situation, John watched as the lady walked back to her pathway, picked up a shovel and scooped up the tiniest amount of snow. At the rate she was going, she'd be there until next winter.
John wasn't sure what came over him, but he abandoned his own driveway and walked over to the lady. "Let me," he offered.
The woman looked at him gratefully. "Thank you," she said. "I guess that's why your son's such a gentleman."
"Dean shovelled your walk?" John asked.
"Yes. Never even asked. He just did it automatically, and I can't tell you how much it helped. With my husband's heart attack, and my arthritis, it's tough, and Sam, he often goes to the store for me. I hope you didn't think I was asking about Dean because of that?" she wondered, her tone carrying a bit of worry.
"No," John quickly assured her.
"You have such good boys. They're both such treasures."
John was beginning to realize just how much.
TBC
Hopefully the next update won't be so long. I have several more chapters written and will post them as soon as I get them back from my beta. Please read and review. It only takes one to keep the muse happy.