Chapter 20: A Child Again

It seemed that Dean had to wait an eternity for any news on his brother's condition. Half of him wanted to chase down the bitch who had shot him, but his other half could not bare to leave until he had seen Sammy and knew he was alright. But now he was tired of nurses, tired of doctors, tired of waiting…

Dean pulled out his cell phone. His fingers hovered over John Winchester's number, but did not fall. How likely was he to actually pick up the phone anyway? He never picked up. Why did Dean think that calling him now would make a difference? Because it's Sammy who's hurt.

He immediately regretted the thought, but now that he'd admitted it to himself he couldn't banish it from his head. He felt a sudden grief overwhelm him.
Sam's hurt; Dad's gone; Mom's dead…

All the years of his life flashed back to him as he sat in that waiting room. Four of those years, though he hardly remembered them, had been his happiest. He'd been normal and oblivious to the evils he now faced daily. Dad had been a father. Mom had been alive…
He only faintly remembered his mother, but he knew that he had loved her very much. John and Mary Winchester had once read him bedtime stories and tucked him in at night.
John had told him once about how much Dean reminded him of Mary. It had been a rare emotional moment for his father and it had been made after Sam had left for college. He had said that Sam was passionate like him, and focused, and once their minds were set on something they would never turn back.

"But you…" John had said, staring off into memory, "You've always taken after your mother. Family comes first for you, like it did for her." Then he had turned to Dean , seeming to study him for a moment before continuing, "Every time I look at you I see Mary's face. You have her eyes, you know."

Dean was surprised to find that his fingers had automatically dialed John Winchester's number. He cleared his throat, wondering what type of voice message he should leave as he listened to the phone ring.

"Hello?"

All the words left Dean Winchester's mouth at that moment. Good God, was his father actually on the other line?

"Hello?"

"D-Dad?" Dean stammered, having to force the words out.

"Dean?" the tired, gravelly voice replied, sounding just as surprised, "What the hell are you doing calling me at three in the morning?"

"What the hell are you doing actually answering your phone?" Dean asked smartly. "Shouldn't I be discussing my problems with your voicemail by now?"

"What's wrong?" John asked, suddenly sounding more awake, "What's happened?"

Here we go, Dean thought. "Dad, it's Sam," he said, his voice now trembling. "He's, uh…He's hurt pretty badly."

"How badly?" John asked automatically.

"Not sure," Dean whispered, "Doctors won't say."

"Dean how could you let this happen?"

"He was shot. I don't-"

"Dean, how could you let that happen?!" John asked angrily.

"Dad I-"

"Tell me where you are."

Dean felt a twinge of jealousy and suddenly felt guilty for it. John hadn't bothered to come to him when he was on his deathbed and now he was more than willing to rush to Sammy's side. But now wasn't the time to be selfish. He'd called hoping John would come. He needed John with Sam so he would be free to hunt down and kill Mrs. Hoffkins for murdering her daughter, performing dangerous magic, and putting his baby brother in critical condition.

"Jasper, Georgia," Dean answered biting off any other remarks.

"You stay there, Dean. Don't leave your brother's side. And don't run off and do anything stupid," he added as an afterthought. "That's an order."

"Yes sir." Dean answered obediently.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not hurt are you?" John asked, his voice holding some emotion.

"No," Dean answered with a small smile. "No, I'm alright."

"Good," John sounded a little relieved to hear that, "Just hang tight. I'll be there as soon as I can."

And then the line went dead. And once again Dean was sitting in lonely silence waiting for someone to bring him news of his brother.

John Winchester rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he hurriedly packed his things. He should've checked his caller ID before answering the phone, but of course he hadn't thought of it after being rudely awakened at 3 in the morning. It wasn't that he didn't care about his boys, he just didn't want them in any more danger than they had to be. But this was serious. Dean wouldn't have sounded so scared if it hadn't been serious.

Once again John found his thoughts wondering whether or not he was a good father. He wondered that a lot, especially lately. It had nagged at him ever since he had left Dean almost a year ago. But that wasn't important right now, what was important was getting to his boys as quickly as possible, and that's what he intended to do.

There were 11 chairs in the waiting room; there 174 ceiling tiles; there were 15 tiles from Dean's feet to the wall and there were 6 rows, so there were 90 tiles between Dean and the wall. There was a painting of a mellow landscape on the far wall that he had studied for a long time and a mirror in a gold frame in which Dean could see his own tired, worried eyes. There were still no doctors in sight. Just as the Winchester resolved to get up and yell for one, a stout man came into the room and made his way towards him.

"Sir?"

"Yes?" Dean asked, standing to meet the doctor. He must have looked intimidating to the much shorter man because he stopped a couple of feet away from him.

"We have news on your brother."

"It's about damn time," Dean almost snapped, but managed to keep his tone clipped.

The man seemed a little taken aback, but not much so.

"Your brother's resting comfortably now," the doctor continued, "He came through surgery successfully, and everything looks good, but he's still not out of the woods yet. He's lost a lot of blood."

Although the news was not as good as he hoped, it could have been a lot worse, and Dean felt some of the tension ease out of his strained muscles. He let out his breath, not realizing that he had been holding it.

"Perhaps you would like to go home and rest," the doctor suggested, "or maybe change your clothes."

Dean looked down at his blood stained shirt, but shook his head anyway

"I'd like to go see him, if that's okay." Beside, his dad had ordered him to stay put, and that's what he intended to do.

"Alright," the doctor replied with a nod, "but he's not conscious."

Dean nodded and followed the doctor to Sam's room. The man kindly left after he'd shown Dean the door and so the older brother entered alone. Though his heart wrenched at seeing his brother unconscious, he took comfort in the steady beeping coming from the heart monitor. Dean pulled a chair up next to Sam's bed and sat there for some time before he spoke.

"Sammy, I'm not sure if you can hear me or not…but, uh…I'm sorry. For a lot of things. For not speaking to you or coming to see you while you were at college. For coming to get you when Dad went missing. For being such a pain in the ass." He smiled softly. "It should be me lying there instead of you. I never asked you to take a bullet for me."

Yeah, don't get emotional again, he thought as he wiped a tear from his eye, Sammy's never gonna leave you alone for breaking down that first time. He doesn't need to wake up to see me crying.

Dean had never felt more helpless, more alone, more like a child, than he did at that moment.

"Do you remember," he began aloud, since no one was there to hear him anyway, "that time when I was 11 and you were 7 and you cut yourself and thought you were going to bleed to death?" Dean laughed warmly at the memory. "You wouldn't stop crying. Dad wasn't there, so I got some water and sprinkled it over your cut, and said that it was actually a healing potion. And you stopped crying. And you asked me how I had made the potion. And I told you it was a secret and then you said something like 'The main ingredient must be a big brother's love,' or something like that. And I laughed at you and told you to stop being silly. But really, that's all it ever was, Sammy. God, do I wish that that was enough to heal you now." Dean wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I'm going to kill the one that did this to you," he said with sudden conviction. "I promise you, when Dad gets here to watch over you, I'm going to kill her."