Author's note: What would we do without Bobby? That's a question I do not want answered anytime soon. Thank you for all the support; every review encourages me just that much more, to go one word further, just one other paragraph.

And don't worry apieceofcake, there was a reason Bobby was so hard on John earlier.

Thank you again to everyone!

Kaze-Chan

Chapter 7

Slowly, Dean stirred at the sound of his name. He could feel a warmth spreading through his arm, a more than welcomed feeling considering all he currently felt was cold numbness. His eyes slowly opened into slits. "Hey son, it's good to see ya." Bobby whispered, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over Dean. The boy's lips were blue and his skin felt ice cold as slight shivers ran up and down his spine.

Dean tiredly looked up, his vision blurring. "Bobby?" His eyes adjusted to the new light as he swallowed against a new wave of nausea. "…how…did y..you…" He tried to sit up, but Bobby gently eased him back down. Trying to move had been a bad idea, as a new haze settled over his mind. "I threw…up over th..there.." Dean's eyes were wide and glassy, completely unfocused.

Bobby's heart skipped a beat. He had never seen Dean hurt this bad but that wasn't what scared him right now. Normally, Dean would always keep up appearances, it was his unwritten rule; they had grown accustomed to that. So when Dean didn't keep up his façade, it did more than describe the situation. "Sam, he …" Dean swallowed laboriously, "he needs to get back to school…" the simple sentence left him short of breath.

Bobby kept a hand on Dean's shoulder while the other closed around the boy's wrist. Slowly, Dean's eyes drooped closed "Hey, come on Dean. Wake up, stay with me." He couldn't keep the panic out of his voice. Dean didn't move but his hand closed around Bobby's as another shiver wracked through him. The shake jolted his injured leg, causing him the gasp out in pain before nausea assaulted him once again, his empty stomach retching dry heaves.

This was bad; he had to get Dean to a hospital and fast. Once he was finished throwing up, Bobby coxed him into a sitting position, apologising every time Dean hissed and groaned in pain. "I'm sorry dude, but we've gotta get you out of here." While Dean worked to keep control, Bobby managed to get a better look at his injuries. His leg was broken twice and the uneven size of his pupils indicated a concussion. There was still an alarming amount of blood escaping from a gash on the side of his head. After a few minutes Dean's breathing evened out and he nodded for Bobby to continue, offering the older man a ghost of a smile. Gently, Bobby pulled him to his feet, leaning him against the wall for support.

Dean cried out in pain, his fingers digging into Bobby's worn jacket as his head lolled dangerously to the side, his eyes rolling inwards. His breathing came shallow and haggard, and if it wasn't for Bobby holding him up, Dean would have crashed back towards the cement. "Dean, stay with me." Bobby encouraged, his own voice uneven with panic. Draping Dean's arm over his shoulder, he did his best to keep Dean off his leg.

It was hard for Bobby to force Dean forwards, knowing that every step caused him inconceivable amounts of pain. Each haggard breath or hiss of pain tore at Bobby's heart. Though he knew it was for the best, it made him uneasy knowing he was currently the source of Dean's pain. "Pl…eas ….stop." Dean's voice shook, barely above a whisper. The two paused while Dean tried unsuccessfully to catch his breath. He was barely managing to support any of his own weight, leaning heavily on the older hunter. Finally, Bobby forced forwards, trying to convince himself he was doing to right thing; the painful words weighing heavy on the older man.

Bobby chocked back the lump in his throat. "I know kid, it hurts. But I gotta get you out of here." He tried to instil confidence and authority in his voice, but falled miserably. By the time Bobby got Dean upstairs, all remaining colour had drained from his young face. His head bounced from side to side, before Bobby could feel his shivers increase. As the shivers worsened, Dean was launched into another fit of dry coughs and dry heaves.

Bobby practically dragged Dean the rest of the way. He found himself thankful for Dean's recent weight loss due to his previous legs injury; if not for that there would have been no way the older man could have carried him out. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved once he noticed Dean had passed out or if he should be worried. For the first time in his life, he felt he finally understood John Winchester.

With one look at Dean's pale face, he knew had he been in John's shoes hours ago, he would have made the same decision. He would do anything to save either one of these boys, even if it meant leaving the other behind. A lump formed in his throat at the thought of having to drive away to save one son, knowing the other needed his help too.

He quickly loaded Dean into the back seat of the beloved Impala, doing his best possible not to stress the injured leg. Even unconscious, Dean cried and groaned in pain. Bobby's decision was both rational and sentimental; his own car held no personal attachment, no weapons and nothing to trace back to him. The Impala, however, held everything of the Winchester's life. Most hunters had a house, a home base to go back to. The Winchester's only had their car, and in it they carried all of their worldly possessions.

The drive back into town was anything but calming. It wasn't the first time Bobby had driven Dean to the hospital, but all those other times the kid had been conscious; muttering curses or snarky remarks. He had never had time to notice how choking the silence inside the Impala could be. In the back seat, Dean lay silent; no smart ass comments, no hiss of pain as they hit a bump, hardly even a haggard breath. Bobby had a hard time keeping an eye on Dean and the road. "Hang in there Dean, hang in there." Though he figured Dean couldn't hear him by now, he needed to fill the empty silence, anything to keep his mind off the possibilities. Dean wasn't dying, he couldn't.

****

The constant beeping to his left told Sam he was in a hospital long before he had the energy to open his eyes. He new there was something he was missing, but for the moment his mind was currently content in its maze of warmth. If it wasn't for the distinctive hospital smell, he would have been tempted to believe he was back home with Jessica.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, the nagging images at the back of his mind finding their way through the haze. "D…dea.n." It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust themselves, before falling on his father's face. Panic flared through him at the memory of the shapeshifter and the nights events; the heart monitor increasing it's tempo in consequences.

"Easy Sam, take it easy. It's okay" John felt relief spread through him. He would never truly forgive himself for stabbing his own son but thankfully, Sam would come out of it with just a scar. He wiped his tired face with his hand; the same gesture Dean always did when he was exhausted Sam thought. John hadn't spoken to Sam since his youngest had left for College, walking out on their life and as far as John was concerned, walking out on his family. Hell, he hadn't really expected to break their silent agreement anytime soon. "So, how are you feeling?" He managed to grind out.

Sam took in the man in front of him before letting his eyes scan the room for his brother. If John was here, it surely meant he had found Dean. Finding nothing to indicate his older brother's whereabouts, he turned his tired gazed back towards his father. "Where's Dean?" He hated how weak and coarse his voice sounded, especially in front of his dad.

John took a few seconds before answering, knowing he had to chose his words carefully with Sam. "The shifter still has him," he watched as Sam's eyes widened, "but Bobby's gone to get him. He'll be fine." For a second it seemed like Sam was going to jump out of his hospital bed but instead, he settled himself back down, closing his eyes as fatigue settled back in, the short conversation exhausting his weakened body.

"That's good.." he mumbled, slipping back into sleep. "Bobby will find him, …..he always does." John had to lean closer to hear the last part. Though he knew his sons were close to Bobby, he had never given it much thought; most times he found it easier not to. It pained him a little to know Sam had more faith in the older man than in his own father; something he had never done to prove otherwise.

John watched as his youngest slipped back into unconsciousness. He fidgeted in his seat before finding himself unable to sit still any longer. He paced the length of the hall, pulling out his cell phone twice, both times unable to complete the call to Bobby Singer. He forced himself not to panic. The fact that his friend hadn't called yet could mean many different things, yet his mind kept going back to the worst of them. He couldn't lose Dean; he couldn't.

He was so engrossed in his own thoughts, he didn't notice Bobby walking towards him until the other man was a few feet away. John's throat closed on itself, allowing no words to form. Bobby looked tired, a heavy burden weighing him down.

He finally looked up to meet John's eyes. "I found him Johnny, but…" Bobby's eyes filled with unshed tears, "….it's not good." John could have sworn the entire hospital had heard his heart plummet from his chest, breaking against the linoleum tile floors.

After several long minutes had passed, John finally managed to control his voice. "Where is he?"