Chapter 6

As always, thanks to Soar, Sinead-Conlan and Julia Aurelia. This chapter is once again dedicated to Sylia91.

Disclaimer: I still don't own them.

"The answer's no, and that's final," John growled to his youngest son.

"But," Sam started to protest. "The game this Thursday is a really important one. The team's counting on me."

John and Sam were there for their usual visit with Dean in the evening. John had told Sam that he would drop him off at the hospital, because he wanted to check out the university library. He hadn't made it there yet.

The first week without Dean hadn't been too bad. Sam was tired and sore, so he usually didn't protest too heavily about just going to the hospital or home. Now that both he and Dean were feeling better, Sam was eager to get back to his activities, starting with his basketball game the next day. John had tried to use the accident as a way of telling Sam no, but the kid had called Dr. Perry and asked for a note that said he was fit. Dr. Perry had examined Sam and gave his consent, so John's next step was to just flat out refuse.

"Why not?" Sam huffed.

"Because I'm the dad," John informed his youngest.

"You should let him, dad," Dean spoke up. "It's been good for him. It's really helped his stamina and team work. He's really good. His team stands a much better chance of winning if he's there," he reasoned.

"No," John said stubbornly. "I picked up an extra shift at the store, and I won't have time to get you from the gym. I don't want to have to worry about how you're getting home or here."

"Mark's mom can give me a lift if I need one," Sam pointed out.

Dean could feel his father's glare on him. "What?" he asked. "I met her, dad, she's nice. I even spilled a glass of holy water on her just to be sure. She didn't smoke or fizzle. Mark's a good kid, too. You'd really like his father, dad. He's a marine."

"But, Dean," John started.

'"I'm okay. The pain's not as bad now, honestly," Dean said when his father shot him a look. I promise I'll be good, take my meds, and not stir up any trouble. Come on dad, you're the one that said if you can't honor a commitment, you don't make it. You don't want Sam to let his team down."

"Please, dad," Sam said flashing his puppy dog eyes. "You can even meet Mark's mother if you want to. She'll drop me here after the game, and we'll both be here when you get off work."

"Fine," John huffed. "But I do want to talk to your friend's mother before I let you go with her. If I don't like her, you're not going to the game."

"You can't just say you don't like her, dad," Dean added a condition, knowing his father.

"Fine," John huffed again, sounding like a teenager. "Sam, we'd better get going. Dean, we'll see you tomorrow." He rose and headed for the door.

"'Kay. I wish I could come see your game tomorrow, Sammy. I know you're going to kick butt."

"Thanks for helping me, Dean. You're the best," Sam said with a grateful grin thrown towards his brother.

John visibly tensed at Sam's words. For whatever reason, he felt like they had just stabbed him through the heart.

------

"Good afternoon, Dean," Nurse Hatcher greeted her young patient as she came into the room.

"When can I get rid of this?" Dean asked immediately, pointing to his IV.

"Soon," she said patiently. "Dr. Curtis is usually very cautious about infection control."

"It's hard to write with it in," Dean said pointing to his school books.

"Just do your best. Do you need this?" Nurse Hatcher said holding the bed pan out to him.

Dean turned toward the wall and felt himself flush red. He was always embarrassed about it, and was counting the seconds until he got out of traction, and then he'd never take going to the washroom for granted again.

After taking care of business, Dean decided that he might as well get his homework out of the way too. Being in traction was uncomfortable and it really sucked, but Dean had to admit that lying in bed all day was kind of a nice change.

He had full control of the remote, and the hospital had more stations than they did at their house. He had read the books his father had given him, and the magazines. He had started on the puzzle book, but they were boring. Once he got the hang of them, they were way too easy, even the ones that were labelled as hard.

The thing that surprised him the most was his homework. With minimal distractions, he was able to put all his effort into it, and he had caught up in all his subjects. The two assignments he had turned in had both gotten B's.

He drained half his battery supply listening to his walkman, enjoying defying his father by listening when he did his homework, something that John forbid.

So Dean was actually behaving himself when it happened. He had read the current chapter in his history textbook and was answering the questions at the end of the chapter. He was writing his answer to the third question when he dropped his pen and it rolled off the table and on to the bed. Not thinking, Dean reached with his right hand when he felt a tug. He looked down and could see a small spot of red where the IV needle had been, and the line dangling next to him.

Oh no, he thought. He was in for it now. The last time, he had done it intentionally, so they'd never believe it was a complete accident now. I haven't complained about meds in days. Maybe they'd buy it, he tried to convince himself. Maybe if he could reach the line he could reinsert it himself. He'd seen it done plenty of times. How hard could it be?

He reached out with his right hand, grabbed the line, and pulled it toward him. He now had the needle in his hand. The problem was that the IV was still flowing and it was making a mess on his sheets. He looked to the stand, but he realized that he had no idea how to make it stop dripping. He held it off to the side so that the liquid dripped on the floor. Knowing it was hopeless, Dean picked up the call button and pushed the buzzer.

To say that Nurse Hatcher was not pleased when she showed up was an understatement. Dean tried to explain that it was an accident, but his pleas fell on deaf ears, as she said she was going to get Dean's doctor.

Great, you stupid screw up. His doctor was going to call his father, who was going to have to leave work, who was going to find some reason to blame this incident on Sam being at his basketball game and make his brother miss the game. Do the words waste of space mean anything to you, dumbass?

"Dean, I thought we'd had this discussion," Dr. Curtis admonished her young patient.

"I swear it was an accident. I was writing and I just pulled my hand too hard," Dean pleaded his case.

"How did the IV fluid get on your sheet? Did it get there when you pulled it out?"

"No," Dean protested. "I just thought that maybe..." He stopped abruptly. He knew his doctor wouldn't think too highly of the fact that he had been contemplating putting it back in on his own.

"Thought what?' Dr. Curtis said.

"That I could put it back in," Dean admitted under her harsh glare.

"It's good that you didn't. The needle's not sterile anymore, so you would have been opening yourself up to infection, not to mention the fact that you could hurt yourself from putting it in wrong. I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable, Dean. You just need to understand just how bad it would be for you to get an infection in your leg. If you do, and we can't get it under control, it could lead to amputation."

Dean went sheet white at her words. They were going to cut off his leg? They couldn't do that? Could they? His dad would never let them. Would he?

"Dean, take a deep breath." He could hear the words cut sharply through his fog. He complied with the order and looked at his doctor, his eyes pleading.

"So far, everything's good. You don't have a temperature, and I'm sorry I scared you, but you need to know the seriousness of this situation."

"I won't touch it anymore. I promise. Don't take my leg," Dean said in a small voice.

Unfornately, Dean didn't realize that his words had sounded to the doctor like he had, once again, deliberately pulled it out.

"Right now, there's very little danger of having to amputate, everything's healing fine and we want to make sure it stays that way. Now, I hate to have to do this, Dean, but it's for your own safety."

"You're not going to restrain me. Don't. I didn't do it on purpose, I won't touch it again. I won't even look at it. Just don't put those things on me," Dean said, hating himself for begging.

Dr. Curtis left and Nurse Hatcher came back into the room with a new IV bag. She proceeded to insert the needle efficiently into Dean's left hand.

When she was done, Dr. Curtis re-entered the room with 2 padded cuffs that she attached to the bed rails.

What Dean didn't know was that Dr. Curtis had no intentions of actually restraining him, just putting the cuffs on the rails.

There was no way in hell Dean was letting her anywhere near him with those things, so when he saw her approach, he tried to back away, pulling both his legs toward him in an attempt to get away.

Pain exploded throughout Dean's broken leg. He stopped moving and tried to sit up to grab it, but as he moved it again, a fresh burst of white hot agony overrode his senses.

Dean whimpered and let loose a string of curse words. He felt a burning sensation up his arm, and then everything faded into darkness.

-----

"Hey, mister, I want a pack of Camels."

John Winchester looked up at the kid standing before him, asking for smokes. He didn't look older than 16 or 17.

"Your parents know you smoke?" John asked.

"You ain't my mother. Camels," the kid repeated.

"You got ID?"

"'Course," the kid said handing over the small piece of plastic.

John looked down at the worst fake ID he had ever seen. "It's amazing," John said looking at the kid. "The people they hire to make these ID's. I mean, you would think they would know that Minnesota is spelled with 2 N's."

The kid didn't even have the nerve to look worried at the fact that he'd been caught. "What the hell are you hassling me for, old man? It's just a pack of smokes."

"Get out, NOW!" John growled.

The kid didn't need to be told twice. He didn't even look at John as he turned and ran.

Still got it, John thought with a smile.

RING RING

"Hello, Max's Convenience." The smile quickly evaporated when he found out it was the hospital. They informed him that Dean had removed his IV and strained his leg. He was okay, but they felt that John should get there as soon as possible.

Slamming the phone down, John grabbed his jacket from the hook behind him and bolted for the door. He stopped just short of it. He couldn't just leave, there was no one else to watch the store. He called his boss, but there was no answer. He called the guy that usually worked the night shift. Again, no answer. Cursing, John sat on the stool and contemplated his options. He had to get to the hospital, but if he left the store unattended, he'd get fired and he really couldn't afford that, but he also couldn't leave his son alone. Dean had been doing so well the last few days, something had to have set him off, and John wanted to get to the bottom of it.

He tried his boss once more. No answer. He cursed. Screw it, he thought. His boys came first. If his boss didn't like it, it was just too damn bad. John grabbed the store keys, flipped the sign from open to closed, set the alarm and locked the door.

-----

John found Dean lying in his hospital bed. He was sleeping and both his wrists were strapped into padded cuffs.

"Mr. Winchester," Dr. Curtis said, entering the room. "Thanks for coming."

"What happened?" John said.

"I'm not sure. Dean pulled his IV, and then I explained just how serious it could be if he didn't cooperate with his treatment plan. I was just going to hang the restraint cuffs on his bed, kind of like a warning. He tried to back away, and when he did, he almost pulled his leg out of the traction sling. He was in pain, so we sedated him to keep from panicking. We put the restraints on so he wouldn't hurt himself when he woke up."

"You can take them off now," John instructed.

"It's for his own good, Mr. Winchester. We had to take him for x-rays to make sure he didn't do any damage to his leg from moving it. Fortunately, it's fine."

"I'm here now. I'll watch him," John said firmly. Dean had broken 6 ribs in a poltergeist attack when he was 13. He had needed a chest tube and a vent. They'd been forced to put on restraints then because Dean kept trying to pull both tubes out. It had been a rough week for all of them. As a result, Dean hated having his hands tied down. It usually caused him to panic. John hadn't told the doctor that because CPS had investigated his injuries at the time, and it was a miracle that John hadn't lost the boys to foster care.

Could you be a worse father? Why the hell didn't you tell that doctor what she could do with her restraints? I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry. Why don't you tell him that, asshole?

"I think it would be best..."

"I don't give a rat's ass what you think. Get those things off him NOW!" John ordered.

Before the doctor could remove the offending objects, Dean started to stir. He groaned and blinked. He could see the water pitcher sitting on his bedside table. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. He reached for it, but his hand held fast. Fear rapidly filled his eyes and John could see that he was about to lose it, so he quickly stepping into his son's line of sight.

"I'm here, buddy. Just relax, okay?" John said soothingly.

Dean was trying to get his wits about him. He was just so foggy from the drugs. "Take them off, dad, please. I won't touch my tubes anymore, I promise. Please, dad," he said in a voice that made him sound 13.

"I believe you, kiddo. Hold still now, I'll have them off soon," John said gently as he worked to remove the cuffs.

Dean pulled his arms to his body, as if to prevent them from being restrained again. He looked at his father. "It's still there, right?" he asked, afraid of the answer.

John frowned. "What is, Dean?"

"My leg. It's still there, right? They didn't take it?"

"Yeah, kiddo," John said as he stroked Dean's head, trying to comfort him. He looked up and shot a murderous glare at the doctor. "I asked you not to tell him that."

"He needed to know how important it was that he follow instructions."

"He did not need to know. You said the odds of it happening were slim to none. The only thing you did was upset him. Now get these out of here and don't bring them near my son again. Understand?" He said angrily.

Dr. Curtis decided not to upset the distraught father any longer. She just removed the restraints from the bed rails and left the room, saying she'd be back to check up on Dean later.

John sat next to Dean and continued to soothe him, assuring him that he was not in any danger of losing his leg. The doctors were just being overly cautious. He just thanked his lucky stars that he had been available to take the call tonight.

That stopped John's thoughts cold. What if he hadn't been there? There were plenty of times he was away on a hunt. What if Sam was sick or hurt? Did Dean leave school like he'd had to leave work? If Dean got sick who was there to pick him up, and comfort him?

"I'm here, Dean. I'm not going anywhere, kiddo. You can count on that," John vowed to his son, determined to keep his promise.

TBC

Please read and review. It makes my day and keeps the muse happy.

A/N: I did take some dramatic license with this chapter. I know that doctor's probably wouldn't restrain someone for pulling an IV, but I wanted John to face an emergency where he had to make a really tough decision, but I didn't want it to be life threatening.