Disclaimer: refer to chapter 1

NOTE TO READERS: Thanks for the comments and reviews on previous chapters. This chapter will utilize time leaps. There will be one final chapter after this one. This update is around 18 pages long. I hope you enjoy it.

Side Note: the translation of the chapter title is: where there is love, there is faith

Chapter Four

Ubi Amor Ibi Fides

By Dawn Nyberg

"…One short sleep past, we wake eternally, and death shall be no more, Death thou shalt die…" excerpt from John Donne, Holy Sonnets

Two Weeks Later, ICU

John still felt mildly embarrassed that he'd passed out from exhaustion over two weeks ago, but he felt fine now and just wanted to focus on his boys. Dr. Sadikov had Sam moved to the last room on the ICU unit, so that Dean couldn't see him when he did his small ICU walks they had started him on a couple days ago. He walked into Dean's room after talking to the doctor privately about Sam. His youngest had made it through the systemic infection and all the test were pointing toward positive directions, he had physically stabilized, but the coma remained.

John had been infinitely grateful that Dean had slept through the commotion of that horrible night he passed out and Sammy had had another crisis. He had startled awake only to be assured both his boys were alive. He was thankful that Dean had turned a corner and was looking like the child he was used to seeing before the hepatitis had made him so ill.

"Hey Sport, you're lookin' good kiddo," John took a seat at his son's side.

"Hey Dad, I'm goin' stir crazy in here," John was still amazed at how good his son looked. The doctor's had said transplant patients could and often did rebound quickly. His skin tone was healthy and there wasn't any remaining jaundice.

It was hard to wrap his mind around the fact that it wasn't that long ago that his son looked near death … hell, it wasn't long ago that he was dying from a failing liver. He thought silently.

"You think the doc would let me walk outside the ICU? I'm tired of walking around this place," Dean complained.

"Hey be glad you can walk Dean. Take your time and the doc will tell us when you can move outside the unit, so be patient. I know you want out of the hospital, I mean after all, you were admitted in July and it's August now. Please, don't push yourself Dean," John urged with a serious face. "You could have died."

"Yeah," Dean's tone sounded a bit down trodden.

"What's up kiddo?" John asked.

"It's just the transplant and all Dad," Dean started and stopped.

"What about it son? You're not in any pain are you?" John felt a tinge of worry.

"Nah, I'm good, the scar will only add to my awesome chick appeal," he added with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. John allowed a slightly bemused smile to creep across his face.

"Then what's the problem?"

"It's just …" Dean looked at his father for a long moment and took a breath and pressed forward. "Do you know anything about the donor? I mean someone died so I could live." John saw the raw emotion in his son's eyes. He knew it was time to tell him about Sam. The doctor had given the approval that Dean was past the medical crisis and was mobile again and stable. He had said he was physically able to tolerate the news, but he wasn't guaranteeing his emotional state and left that to John's discretion to tell Dean.

"Dean," John began tentatively. "You were so ill and then you had the seizure … I knew you were running out of time. You were in a coma and on life support, I thought I was gonna lose you."

"I know Dad, but I'm okay. I'm going to be fine. The doc says the liver is working great. I'll take my meds and I'll be just fine," Dean tried to take away the constant look of worry and stress his father had on his face. He saw it even when John was smiling or laughing. It was as if something hidden beneath the surface was keeping his father on high alert. "Dad, what is it?"

"I …" John's mouth went dry. "Dean, your donor … I need to tell you …"

"I want to know whatever you know, Dad. Was it a guy a girl? How old were they? How'd they die?" Dean hoped his father knew something. He had read the UNOS brochures in July and had read that donor information was kept private, but sometimes limited info was available. John knew there was no easy way to say this, so he just said it.

"It was Sammy," John said bluntly. The room was silent as Dean processed. John saw the red creep into Dean's cheeks first and knew the explosion was imminent. Dean's eyes blazed.

"What in the hell are you talking about? It was Sam! I told you not to call him! I didn't want him cut!"

"Dean, please…"

"Go to hell Dad," Dean spat. "I didn't want Sammy put through this crap. Dammit, you should have waited for a donor!"

"There wasn't time Dean," John lamented. "Sammy was your only chance."

"Then you should have let me die," Dean hissed. "I told you no! You had no right!" Dean barked. "So, where is he? I'm going to kick his ass into next year for doing this. He's been hiding his ass, huh?" Dean looked past his father wandering if his little brother had been looming in the corners all this time, possibly only checking on him while he slept. "Where is he?" Dean's eyes were on fire as he settled his hard gaze back on his father and that's when he saw that pain and worry again … now it made sense. "Dad?" his voice dropped and his tone was unsure. "Dad, where's Sammy?"

"He's here Dean," John's eyes were anguished.

"Here where?" Dean's tone dripped with barely controlled rage tempered with fear.

"The ICU … his room is down the hall," John forced out.

"But … I read the crap they were making me read about live donation and the donors. It said usual stay was 10 days … my transplant was like twenty-five days ago, almost a month, why's he …" his eyes were no longer angry just afraid.

"There've been complications." John began. "He had a problem in surgery and since then he's had an infection which is cleared up now, but it almost killed him. There was some internal bleeding, but they went back in a stopped it. He was collecting fluid on his lungs so they put in chest tubes, but they were able to take them out. He looks okay now. Pale, really pale, but he's been …" John stopped abruptly and took a breath. He couldn't believe the words had all rushed out like they did.

"He's been what?" Dean begged. The bile was already in his throat having heard the list of complications his little brother had been going through. "He's been what?" Dean demanded once again. John looked agonized.

"In a coma. He never woke up from surgery Dean. There was a clot that went to his heart in surgery and a piece went to his brain. They got it out with a cath procedure, but they think … they think Sammy's never gonna wake up."

"Bullshit!" he spat. "He's not brain dead?" The statement was both a question and a declaration. John shook his head. "Screw this," Dean flung the sheet and blanket covering his legs aside. "Where is he? I want to see him."

"Dean take it easy," John went to grab his son's elbow in support. Dean jerked away. John frowned and reached for his son again and didn't allow himself t be shaken off. "Listen to me Dean," his voice boomed. "You can be pissed at me … that's fine, but I'll be damned I let you go off half cocked and hurt yourself … put your transplant at risk. So, you'll take my help or your ass will sit here … am I clear?" Dean fumed and raged inside, but his father was right about one thing, he wouldn't risk the gift his little brother had paid such a high price to give to him.

"Fine," he ground out. "I want to see him, now." John nodded and helped his son with the IV pole and offered a supportive arm for Dean to lean into.

"Alright, come on, it's time for the doctor to stop in anyway, you can ask whatever you need or what to." Dean offered a curt nod. Once Sammy was okay, he thought to himself he was going to fully explode, but not until Sammy was back.

Two Hours Later, ICU

Dean sat alone with Sam having made his father leave. Dr. Sadikov had given Dean the rundown of Sam's physical state and everything that has happened before he stepped out with his father. He could hear the low spoken tones of his father and the doctor outside his little brother's room, but his mind was focused on his sibling. He reached up and took Sam's hand. He grimaced at some of the yellowing bruises that were healing which he recognized as needle marks from shots or former IV's. "Dammit, Sammy," he spoke softly as he held his brother's hand. "What in the hell were you thinking?" He paused. "This is what I didn't want Sammy," Dean lamented. "My gut was saying I had to protect you, look out for you. You should be in California goin' to school." He stared at his pale sibling and studied the breathing tube rising from his mouth and the NG tube going into his nose. "I'm just so damn pissed," Dean spoke softly. "I'm never gonna forgive Dad for this," he stroked his brother's hand. "And, little brother you're going to be due for an ass kicking from big brother when you open those eyes of yours," Dean's voice was soft and despite hisanger his tone held no harshness when he looked at his sibling and continued to hold Sam's hand.

"Dean," John's voice spoke softly from the doorway.

"Get out," Dean ground out under his breath. "You get the hell away from Sammy and me … this is your fault," he hissed as he turned and looked at his father and saw Dr. Sadikov standing next to him.

"Dean, the doctor wanted to talk to us about Sammy." Dean spared a glance at his brother and smiled softly.

"I'll be back Sammy … hold the fort down," he spoke light heartily to his little brother. John moved to help him stand and move the IV pole. Dean wanted to refuse the help, but he knew he needed it and he wouldn't jeopardize hurting himself and being kept from Sam or hurting the progress of his transplant. "What is it?"

"Dean," the doctor began. "I wanted to discuss a couple things with you. I was talking to your father that I think within a couple days or so provided Sam's vitals stay as stable as they have been I'm recommending he be moved to our skilled long term care wing."

"Getting out of the ICU is a good thing though, right? What's to talk about?" Dean's patience was on edge.

"Yes, and no," the doctor offered. "It depends on how you look at it. It is good that Sam is stable enough not to require the ICU any longer, but it's important that you understand that Sam's placement in our skilled long term care wing is primarily for coma patients deemed persistent coma or persistent vegetative. Sam's coma is currently classified as persistent, and we feel he will most likely never wake up."

"That's crap," Dean barked quietly. "I see that EEG thing you got hooked to him and he's in there still. You gotta give him time. Look, I know what you said earlier about the clot, but you also said that there wasn't any major damage. You just gotta give Sammy time to find his way back. I'm not letting you write him off."

"Anything is possible," the doctor relented. "But, you should be realistic in your expectations of his coma." Dean just stared at the man and for a moment his mind was paralyzed with the possibility that what the man was saying could be true. He cast a glance into his brother's room and felt sick to his stomach that this could be the rest of his little brother's life … machines and tubes keeping him alive … this was so screwed up.

"You said you wanted to discuss a couple things," Dean needed to talk about something other than long term care. The doctor nodded.

"I have consulted with my other colleagues in regard to Sam's care and we think it's in his best interest to establish a long term airway at this point for him." Dean's brow furrowed.

"What are you talking about? He's got a breathing tube already."

"True, but we don't like to keep an ET tube in for lengthy stretches of time and it's been a little over three weeks already and when long term airway maintenance is expected the typical procedure is to give Sam a surgical airway while keeping him on the ventilator…" Dean looked confused. The doctor elaborated with a term he thought Dean would understand. "It's prudent he's given a tracheotomy at this point before going to the skilled care wing."

"No," Dean barked. "No way in hell you're cuttin' his neck. It's not happening."

"Dean," John's voice was softy. Dean's eyes were blazing.

"No, you want to move him because he's stable fine, but you give him a little more time, okay," his eyes were angry and begging all at once. "Please…"

"Dr. Sadikov, could you give Sam more time? Is it possible without putting his health at risk?" John asked trying to find a common ground that Dean and the doctor could both accept. It wasn't as if he was eager to see Sam with a tracheotomy either, it made everything seem hopeless and permanent.

"Fine," the doctor relented. "But, for Sam's health I'm not willing to go beyond the end of the fourth week. If his coma hasn't become lighter or there is no major improvement the tracheotomy will be done." Dean and John both nodded.

"I want to be with my brother," Dean turned to go.

"Dean," Dr. Sadikov spoke up. "I'm still your physician and I know you want to spend time with him, but you need to be back in bed and rest." He could see the resistance about to happen and came up with a quick solution. "Look, how about I have Sam moved back to his old room. It's right across the hall from you and you can even see into his room from your bed. How's that sound?" Dean offered a curt nod.

"I told him I'd be back," Dean spoke firmly. "I just want to say goodnight." John reached out to help Dean walk and roll the IV pole. Dean allowed him. "I'll just be a minute." John nodded.

"I'll be just outside."

"Whatever," Dean grumbled. John left the room knowing he had a lot of damage control to do with Dean … hell Sam too, only if he's given the chance to make amends. Dean sat in the chair next to Sam's bed. "Hey Sammy, the doc is gonna move you back to your old room, okay? You'll just be across the hall from me." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "Listen to me Sammy, you gotta come back kiddo. We got a week and a couple days before the doc slits your throat man … please, Sammy, come on." He could hear Dr. Sadikov's lab coat rustling outside the door. "Look Sammy, the doc's making me go back to my room, but I'll talk to you soon, I promise."

Three Days Later, ICU

Dean sat beside Sam. He was tired and his father was always nearby making sure he wasn't over doing anything, but keeping his distance at the same time in order to keep the peace. John stayed with Sam during the night while Dean slept in his own room. The doctor had said he was keeping Sam in the ICU another day and then would transfer him to the skilled care wing. "Come on Sammy," he urged. "We got five more days until the doc says he's gonna give you that damn tracheotomy." Dean felt frustrated and scared all at the same time. "Sam? You have to come back," he spoke with a soft, yet commanding tone. His eyes glanced at the bank of monitors as he finished the sentence and his eyes caught something. Sam's EEG spiked and his heart rate had picked up, but in the silence of the room he noted that the monitors returned to the status quo. Dean leaned forward and looked at his brother. There was no change that he could tell.

An idea crossed his mind and he looked at the monitors and said his sibling's name. "Sammy?" There it was a spike in the EEG and the heart monitor showed an increase in heart rate during the moment he said his little brother's name. The systems returned once again to their regular status. Dean dared to smile slightly. "Sammy, you hearin' me kiddo?" and the monitors spiked again. Dean was pushing the call button the next second. "That's my boy," Dean said with more pride and love than he thought he could ever feel.

One Day Later, ICU, Late Evening

Dean slept in his bed and John stood quietly at the door. He needed to assure himself that Dean was resting. The doctor had said he was prepared to move Dean to the observation unit provided his latest liver enzyme blood test came back as glowing as the others and Dr. Jessup Dean's transplant doctor had given him the thumbs up. John knew Dean was still frustrated with his limited physical abilities for the moment, but he knew he'd be back to his usual level in good time. John knew he should go back to Sam's room, after all, it was the one thing he and Dean would talk about … Sammy. Dean still wouldn't converse with John beyond the topic of Sam's care or improvements and when Dean had asked his father to sit with Sam at night while when he couldn't John had found some hope in that request from his oldest.

"Mr. Winchester," a soft voice spoke from behind him. He turned.

"Yes?"

"Sam," she begun and John's eyes were instantly panicked, as it had become a knee-jerk reaction to hear his youngest son's name and then bad news right after. "No," she assured with a smile knowing the worried parent look on his face. "He's making more purposeful movements in the last few minutes … more so than yesterday. His eyes are starting to flutter a little; I thought you'd like to sit with him in case he wakes for a short bit.

Ten Minutes Later, Sam's Room

"Now, don't expect him to be bright eyed and bushy tailed Mr. Winchester," April, Sam's night nurse spoke softly as she adjusted an IV and hung a new fluid bag. "His waking up could be a slow process." John nodded. "I'll leave you alone. I'll be back in a while to look in on him … buzz if you need anything.

"Thanks April."

"Not a problem."

John reached up and took Sam's hand. "Hey kiddo, it's your Dad," John spoke softly. "Sam?" He leaned forward stroking his son's forehead. "Sammy, open your eyes," he urged. "Come on … Dean's been waiting, me too."

One Hour Later, ICU

John was pulled from his sleep violently by a harsh gasping and choking noise. He hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep. He looked up at his son where the source of gagging was coming from and before he could react April and a doctor were on their way in and John stepped to the background. He could see Sam's eyes were open and pure panic in them that also held a shell shocked look to them. His gagging was violent, but his movements to fight the breathing tube were weak and uncoordinated.

"Sam," April urged. "Calm down. It's your breathing tube. Just breathe normally," she urged.

"What's his tidal volumes look like?" the doctor asked.

"Good," she said glancing quickly as the respirator readout. "Sam, shh…" she urged. He was still rebelling against the tube. John couldn't stay away any longer and he stepped forward.

"Sammy?" John spoke in a gentle voice. "It's okay. You're okay." Sam stilled and his confused eyes sought out the face connected to the voice he knew belonged to his father. John stood at the foot of the bed and smiled reassuringly at his youngest child. He reached out and placed a hand on top of his son's blanket giving a reassuring squeeze of his foot. "Sammy, listen to the doctor, okay. Stop fighting the tube. I'm here, you're okay."

"Sam, listen take a deep breath in, okay?" The doctor looked at Sam's face. "Do you understand me?" Sam nodded. "Good." The doctor prepared to remove the breathing tube. "Now, blow out," he said and in one fluid movement he extubated Sam.

Sam coughed at the action and April helped to suction his mouth and wipe the spit from his chin. "You're good, Sam. It's all out now. Good for you." She replied.

"Good boy Sammy," John said warmly.

"Dad?" the voice came out as a whisper and Sam flinched at the tenderness in his throat.

"Hey kiddo."

"Sam, open up," the doctor requested. "This is going to taste bad, but it'll numb your throat a little and will help with the pain. You'll be tender for a few days most likely from the breathing tube. I'll have some ice chips brought to your room and that should help, also you might want to keep talking to a minimum."

"Thanks," Sam whispered and glanced around the room with a confused look.

"Mr. Winchester, I need to examine him and then I'll let you visit, okay?"

"I'll be just outside Sammy," John smiled at his son.

"No, Dad …" Sam pushed weakly at the doctor's stethoscope on his chest. "Dean? Is he okay," John was mesmerized from the wonderful sound of his baby boy's voice and the fact he seemed coherent despite his confused look. It took him a moment to reply. "Dad?" He saw the fleeting fear cross his child's face.

"He's good Sammy, better than good," he assured. "Look, you settle down and let the doctor look you over and I'll go wake him up and give him the good news, okay?"

Sam nodded offering a small smile and John could see how weary his son was and that the bit of adrenalin he experienced upon waking was already dissipating.

A Few Moments Later, Dean's Room

John stood at his son's bedside and was hated waking him, but Dean needed to know. John reached down and rested his hand on his son's shoulder and spoke softly. "Dean? Son?" Dean moved slightly in sleep and settled once again. This wasn't rare for Dean these days. He had become a heavy sleeper when he slept since his illness and subsequent transplant. "Dean," John patted his son's shoulder gently. "Wake up, son."

"Dad?" Dean's voice was soft as he blinked blearily up at his father. It was in the first few moments of waking that Dean always seemed to forget he was angry at his father and then he would remember. "What is it?" his tone shifted as his mind cleared from sleep.

"Sammy…" John didn't get out anymore before Dean's eyes were wide and he was looking across the ICU unit at his brother's door and saw that it was closed and the blinds closed.

"What is it?" he barked. "What happened to Sammy?"

"Calm down Dean…"

"Don't tell me to calm down," Dean hissed. "What's wrong? Why's the door closed?"

"He woke up," John replied hurriedly before his son could say another word or toss out another question. Dean settled immediately and looked at his father.

"Sammy's awake?" John nodded. "Is he … is he okay?" Dean had always kept hope that his little brother truly would be okay, but he knew the chances there could be some form of deficit was a real possibility despite what the CT's and MRI's were saying.

"He knew me and asked about you … asked if you were okay," John answered. "He sounded good … his throat is tender from the tube being removed, but he seemed okay. The doctor is examining him now."

"He's really okay?" John smiled knowing Dean was merely forcing himself to believe what he was hearing. "And, he asked about me?"

"Wanted to make sure you were okay, although I'm not sure exactly what he remembers last though, he looked tired and a little shell shocked, but I suspect waking up from an almost four week coma would do that to anyone." John hedged. Dean nodded in agreement.

"When can I see him?"

"As soon as the doctor finishes up with him," John offered. Dean leaned back against his pillow and closed his eyes letting out a long breath. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Dean answered and opened his eyes. John could see the mist of tears collecting in Dean's eyes as his son turned his head away from his father.

"It's okay, Dean," John spoke softly. "You've been so worried about Sammy, me too, and it's only natural," he encouraged. "The adrenalin is finally dropping after days and days of constantly being up. It's okay…" Dean pushed at his eyes with his hands and said nothing to his father. John remained in the room but moved toward the doorway to await the opening of Sam's room door.

Ten Minutes Later

John was still standing near Dean's door when Sam's door opened and Dr. Lock, the ICU physician on duty that night came out. The doctor made eye contact with John and walked over to him. He saw that Dean was awake and intently looking for answers on his sibling's status.

"How's Sam?" John asked before Dean could. The doctor smiled and stepped into Dean's room to convey the news to both family members.

"Well, considering everything he's doing quite well. There is some confusion, but it's to be expected after a lengthy period of unconsciousness such as Sam's coma. He remembers why he's here and about Dean's need for a transplant. I haven't told him how long he was unconscious only that he experienced some complications … I thought I'd leave that to your discretion."

"What about damage?" Dean pushed his voice into the conversation.

"His pupils are reactive and he can follow commands. The various neuro checks and physical exam and motor control test were all good. Tomorrow morning I'm sure Dr. Sadikov will send him down for a MRI and a few other neurology exams, too. He's groggy and I anticipate he'll be sleepy for the first couple days or so, and don't be surprised if he drops off during conversations … it's all normal. His body has been through quite a lot."

"I want to see him." Dean asserted.

"If you let your father help you into a wheelchair and roll over there," the doctor replied.

"I'm allowed to walk," Dean answered hotly.

"Yes, but I saw the remark on your evening care notes that your doctor left. You were on your feet a lot today and spent quite a few hours sitting with your brother. Dr. Sadikov wants you to rest, so if you want to see your brother you're going to have to get there by wheelchair and then by all mean sit in the chair. I'm merely following your doctor's orders. You wouldn't want a set back would you? You get twenty minutes and then back to bed. It's 4 AM and you need your rest."

"Fine, whatever," Dean grumbled under his breath. He shot a glare at both the doctor and his father.

Sam's Room a Short While Later

Dean sat and watched his brother sleep. He needed to know he was truly back but was hesitant to wake him. When his father had rolled him into the room Sam's head was lulled to the side on his pillow and he was sound asleep. It was a relief to see the breathing tube removed and the ventilator machine turned off and pushed against the wall. The NG tube remained in his brother's nose, but he hoped that it too would be removed very soon.

"Dean?" John whispered from his place against the wall in the corner.

"Why are you still here? I want to see Sammy alone." He kept his voice low.

"You can't stay mad at me forever Dean," John said under his breath as he pushed himself off the wall and stepped outside.

"Try me…" Dean hissed quietly without even looking at his father. He turned his eyes back to his sibling. He couldn't keep from touching him; the need for physical contact was too strong. He reached up and pushed at his brother's long bangs. "Man, Sammy," he spoke softly. "You really do have a friggin' mop on your head, you know that?" he smiled at the peaceful face. Sam stirred slightly and Dean waited for his eyes to open. "That's it kiddo." A huge smile broke across Dean's face as Sam's dark eyes opened and focused on him. "Hey sleepy head."

"Dean?" Sam's voice was a mere whisper.

"Yeah, it's me Sammy. I'm here. How ya doin?"

"Okay," he answered quietly. Sam noticed his father was standing outside the room but said nothing.

"Okay, huh? So, you wanna tell me what the hell you were thinkin'?" Sam offered a tired and small lopsided grin that caused a flare of warmth in Dean's chest.

"Had to do it," Sam scratched out the reply. Dean winced at the sound.

"Here," he said warmly as he picked up a plastic spoon a gathered some ice chips for his brother. "Try these Sammy … they'll be good for your throat." Sam allowed Dean to spoon the chips into his mouth. "Better?" Dean asked with a hopeful smile. Sam nodded.

"Thanks," he whispered. Sam studied Dean for a long moment. "You really okay?" he eyed the IV pole next to his brother and the discarded wheelchair next to him.

"Yeah, I'm good," Dean answered. "I did a lot walking and sitting today, so they made me ride over here on that piece of shit … not that I need it." Sam offered a thin smile. He could hear his big brother's usual bravado was returning.

"You look good," Sam commented. He was happy to see a healthy skin tone on his older brother. "When I last saw you …" his voice cut off as he remembered.

"Yeah," Dean's voice was soft.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"How long was I out? The doc didn't tell me … he just said I had some complications."

"Almost four weeks," Dean answered while keeping eye contact with his brother.

"Four?" Sam clarified with confused eyes.

"Yeah," Dean confirmed. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Honestly, I guess rolling into the OR and that's it until I woke and saw Dad." Sam saw his brother's face darken at the mention of their father. "Okay, what's up?" Sam forced a little more strength into his voice.

"What'd ya mean?"

"Look I know Dad and I have some issues, but you and him … I can see it in your face Dean. I know something is up. What is it?"

"Nothin' you need to think about. You should rest Sammy," Dean encouraged his sibling. He could see Sam was struggling to stay awake and also he didn't care to talk about their father.

"Dean…"

"Sleep Sammy." Dean's voice brooked no argument and Sam was too tired to fight it any longer and succumbed to the pull of sleep quickly even before he could protest his brother's command. Dean watched his brother drift off and smiled. "Good to have you back kiddo," he said quietly.

"You ready to go back to your room now?" John walked in and stood in the doorway. "The doc says time's up anyway." Dean shifted his eyes toward his father as he started to get up to sit in the wheelchair. John took a step forward to help his son and Dean glared at him. "Fine, do it yourself" John mumbled under his breath and watched his son get in the chair himself. John rolled Dean back across the unit and helped his son back into bed despite the tension and anger rolling off his child toward him.

One Week Later, Observation Unit

"Dean you can't stay mad at him," Sam spoke to his brother whom he now shared a room with. The doctor had upgraded both of them and had them moved to the Observation unit and they shared the same room.

"Wanna bet?" Dean's tone was dangerous. "Sammy, give it up, okay? You've been flappin' your jaws for a week now about this and I don't want to hear it anymore." Dean complained as he looked over at his sibling with an irritated expression.

"Dean… Dad did what any parent would. Anyway, he told me you didn't want it and it was always my decision." Dean let out an exasperated snort. "What?"

"Yeah, like it was really a decision … there wasn't a real choice Sammy, I mean come on. Yeah, you get here and decide not to donate … wasn't gonna happen, no more than I would have …" Dean's voice dropped off as he was unwilling to hang himself with the end of his statement.

"No more than you would have what?" Sam perked up knowing all to well what his brother was going to say. "You would have done it too Dean … if it had been me you would have done it even if I didn't want you to." He replied.

"Damn straight," Dean answered quickly.

"Why would you? We weren't exactly on speaking terms … I was at school. You're tellin' me that if a doctor called you and Dad up and said I was sick and needed a live donor transplant you would have donated … despite the crap and family drama?" Dean looked at his brother as if he'd lost his mind.

"Man, little brother, I'm thinkin' that head doc better look at that melon of yours again. I think maybe you did lose some brain cells in that coma after all. Sam even if you'd left and told me and Dad to go screw ourselves," he grinned. "Well, you sort of did say that to dad, but anyway … Sammy, no matter what I would have." Sam grinned at his ability to still lead his brother right where he wanted him. "What?"

"That's my entire point Dean."

"About?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"Okay, Woody," he started with a put upon sigh.

"Woody?"

"Yeah, your head," Sam took his knuckles of his right hand and mimicked knocking his own head. "Your head is dense Dean … like wood. About what? About how I donated, why I donated and why Dad called me. Geez, you think he was throwin' confetti as they rolled me away to the OR … he looked scared and you should have seen him with you. Damn, Dean, I've never seen Dad look that scared. You should cut him some slack. If he had listened to your stupid ass and not called you would have died and then where would Dad and me be, huh?"

Dean looked at his brother and was slowly seeing his brother's view. "I'll tell you where," Sam continued when Dean said nothing. "I would have shown up for your funeral. I would have watched you buried and then I would have never talked to Dad again … ever. I would have never forgiven him. Forgive him Dean," Sam's voice lowered and suddenly sounded young and Dean looked at him.

"When did you become Dad's public relations representative, huh? You and him are like Ali and Tyson …" Sam chuckled. "You both always come out of corners swinging."

"Yeah, well, we're workin' through some stuff in our own time, but you and him … Dean come on, you need him as much as he needs you … ying and yang, ya know?"

"Ying and Yang?" Dean quirked his eyebrow. "Man, I think California is making you soft Sammy. We're more like Blade and Rambo … ying and yang," Dean rolled his eyes at his younger brother.

"Talk to him Dean." The eldest sibling looked at his little brother and relented when he looked into those puppy eyes that looked so sincere. "Clear the air."

Two Months Later, September 2003, University of Washington Medical Center

Dean and Sam both walked into the hospital lobby with their father. "Come on boys," he encouraged them to the elevator.

"We're comin' Dad," Dean answered as he looked over his shoulder at Sam who was trailing behind. "Move your ass Sammy." Sam picked up the pace.

Forty Minutes Later, Third Floor, Dr. Sadikov's Medical Office

Dean was flashing his 1,000 watt smile at the blonde, petite receptionist. Sam snorted in his hand. Dean flashed him a hot glare. "Your just jealous she isn't lookin' at you like you're lunch Sammy. I was always the better lookin' brother," he mused. John sat and allowed the quiet banter between his boys. He was simply happy both boys were alive.

"Better looking?" Sam offered a mused smile. "You're not better looking just more horny."

"Well, at least I'm not a prude," he countered.

"Boys," John spoke softly. "This isn't the time or the place for this right now." He leaned over and indicated with the inclination of his head, "we aren't exactly alone in here ya know, so behave."

"Yes, sir," the answered in well practiced unison. John smiled warmly and went back to his magazine while he waited for his son's names to get called.

Thirty-Minutes Later, Exam Room

"Okay, your turn Sam hop up," the doctor encouraged as Dean put back on his shirt and took a seat next to his father while Sam was examined.

"So, are we getting cut loose doc?" Sam asked as Dr. Sadikov had him lie down on the table.

"Well," he pushed along Sam's healed incision, "Any pain?" He pushed on Sam's abdomen.

"No."

"Here?" Sam's small intake of breath was his answer.

"Sammy you okay?" Dean glared at the doctor for hurting his brother.

"Yeah, just a little tender," he answered honestly.

"It's expected, but you're healing nicely Sam, but as I told you a while ago … recovery for you should be about four months. You're looking good though."

"What about Dean?" John hedged.

"He's looking great," Dr. Sadikov replied. "The blood tests and MRI of his liver that were done earlier this week all came back with flying colors. Dr. Jessup evaluated Dean's blood work, liver enzymes and MRI and he was pleased."

"Pleased enough to let us leave Seattle?" Dean pushed. They had been staying with a friend of their fathers and fellow hunter, Jefferson Kincaid. He had a large A-Frame house up in the woods. It was quiet and roomy and surprisingly close to the major metropolis of Seattle and only a twenty minute drive into the city. He had offered his home to the Winchester clan while they recuperated after their immediate discharge from the hospital. Dr. Jessup and Dr. Sadikov had both required the boys to stay within a half hour of the hospital in the event a problem arose. They had also wanted to make sure Dean's liver wasn't showing any signs of rejection and that he was handling his medications as he should. Also, they had wanted to follow Sam's recovery a little more closely in lieu of the complications he had encountered.

"Well, Dr. Jessup consulted with the follow-up hospital your father suggested you would be around," the doctor looked at his paperwork. "Um… Blue Earth Medical Center, right? In Minnesota?"

"Yes," John answered. "We have a good family friend there and the boys have known him practically all their lives. It's a nice quiet place for them to get their strength back." John was secretly looking forward to touching base with his old friend Jim Murphy and he was more than ready to be in a smaller city. Seattle was nice but he needed something with a less urban feel.

"Dr. Jessup said that the follow-up doctor for both Dean and Sam will be Dr. Polanski. He will continue with Dean's routine blood and liver tests also the MRI's. He will send the relay the results to Dr. Jessup and they will be conferring with one another."

"Doc, how long for all this poking and prodding?" Dean grumbled slightly.

"Hey, I know it gets old after a while Dean, but you know the drill … every month for a year and if there are no setbacks within that year then we'll wean you down once every three months and when you're two years solid out from your transplant you'll be good for twice a year check-ups."

"And, how much longer until I can do stuff, you know aside from just walking a stuff? Because I'm going nuts," Dean commented.

"No heavy lifting for a year Dean, no mountain climbing until you're a year out," he joked. "I'll let you return to driving but not for long distances, okay? I mean you can drive around town and stuff but no out of state, long distance driving. In that case you're a passenger. Look you're young and have your whole life ahead of you, so don't push it. You and your dad have both been given a list of what you can and cannot do, so don't push your luck. You're doing great, but let your body heal and adjust to the new liver, okay?"

"Yeah," Dean acquiesced.

"Good, now Sam," the doctor turned his attention to his other patient. "Look kiddo, I want to see you taking it easy for at least another couple months. You can drive with no restrictions now, but no running marathons. Get some more weight back on you and rest. I'm guessing you're biting at the bit to get back to school, but I'd like to see you wait until Winter Quarter, okay. "It's fall now anyway and classes have most likely started, so I'd like you to rest and I see no problem with you returning to classes when they start for winter. When is that anyway?"

"Second week of January. A little over four months."

"I'd also like you to see Dr. Bloom again … the doctor you saw at Stanford, I'll give him a call to give him a heads up. I just want him to give you the once over before classes start, okay?" Sam nodded. "Good, and hey with the extra time off you'll be able to spend the holidays with your family." Sam offered a mild smile to the doctor's comment … he was slowly working some things out with his father, but he suspected he'd still leave with some tension. John had already hinted at him staying with the family and not returning to school which had already caused a heated conversation or two before Jefferson or Dean would put a stop to it.

"So, they're getting the green light then?" John pushed for a solid answer.

"Yeah, we're cutting the apron strings, but Dean," the doctor cast a hard look at his patient. "You keep up with your follow-ups, no forgetting and be vigilant with your meds."

"I will doc," Dean assured.

"Okay, then," the doctor smiled. "You know how to get a hold of me if you need anything, so don't hesitate." All three Winchesters nodded.

The Winchesters walked out of the hospital all feeling a bit lighter than they had when they walked in. The release was really all about Dean and his recovery. The staff gave the green light which meant Dean really was okay and ready to leave the city. He still had some healing and John and Sam were both dedicated to making sure Dean didn't push his limits right now.

"It'll be nice to see Pastor Jim again," Sam commented as they walked across the parking lot to the Impala.

"Yeah, I'm ready to get out of Seattle," Dean agreed.

"Dean?" John spoke and Dean looked at him and saw the smile on his father's face.

"What?" He could see an amused glint in his dad's eyes. John lifted his hand and dangled the keys to Dean's beloved car. John had driven the boys for their check-ups in the Impala because it was more comfortable than his truck.

"You wanna drive her back to Jefferson's?" Dean's practically dislocated his jaw with the wide smile that broke across his face.

"Hell yes," he said hurriedly and grabbed up the keys. Sam and John both smiled briefly at each other, both men happy to see Dean excited and healthy.

"You're drivin' to Jim's," John leaned in a said quietly to Sam. "No matter how much of a fit he pitches."

"Yeah," Sam answered. "Don't worry."

John Nodded. Dean was already in the car and honked the horn.

"Come on ladies," he yelled. He pushed in a cassette, AC/DC's Back in Black blared from the speakers as they started to pull out of the visitor lot.

"Down a few decibels Dean," John complained from the passenger seat. Dean looked in the rear view mirror and smiled at his brother with a mischievous grin.

"Hey, Dad, you know the house rule, you made it, driver picks the music…shotgun shuts his cake hole." John cast a bemused look at his son. Sam snickered quietly in the back seat, oh yeah, Dean Winchester was back.

To Be Continued

There will be one final chapter/epilogue to follow this chapter. It will be posted next weekend. I hope you enjoyed chapter 4. I'll start working on the final chapter/epilogue over the weekend, as time permits. Thanks again for reading! I appreciate it.