Author's Note: Thank you to everyone reading, but a bigger thank you to all the people who reviewed last chapter or any of the previous chapters. Doing that is really appreciated. It's the least you can do, so I'm always grateful for you doing so.

Warning: Child abuse

Ignorance Is Bliss, Chapter 8

The landmarks they zoomed past in the Impala were one big blur to Bobby and completely nonexistent to John. Bobby, hands so tight around the steering wheel that his knuckles turned whitish, couldn't keep his eyes from glancing into the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of the family of three in the back seat. John, trying to balance his attention between his two boys, while at the same time attempting to keep himself under enough control. He did he best to ensure that he didn't have an emotional breakdown right there on the spot. Looking back, Bobby could see the complete fear in John's eyes. He could tell how much energy it was taking for him to hold back the tears that were just urging to come out. And the look on John's face was something he'd honestly had never seen before. He'd seen him more in control of his emotions in the face of other people's worst nightmares. He had a face of stone in the eyes of the quickest Shape-shifter, the most evil Wendigo, and the most angered demon. But this was different. John was literally living his worst nightmare.

There was a change in tension and franticness between the front seat and the back. Bobby had peace and serenity compared to the mini circus John was running back there. In his arms he could feel Sam shaking. But it was too warm outside for that to be the reason. He could also feel the heat radiating off Sam. His head bobbed weakly on John's shoulder; his forehead leaving a dampness of sweat. On his lap was Dean's head. The blood dripping from the open gash was quickly staining the cloth John had pressed to the side of it. If it weren't for all the blood and the obvious head wound, Dean would've almost looked peaceful.

Sam's breath tickled John's neck; as it was so thin that it seemed to imitate a small bug crawling on him. In his ear, he could hear Sam struggling to inhale. He felt it each time Sam does: his whole body tightens a little and the air comes in like he's breathing through a straw. And it amazed John that through all this struggle, Sam's face still remained emotionless.

Just keep breathing, Sammy, please , John said to himself as he pulled Sam closer. He tried to keep both Sam and his brother as still as possible. John's hand had readjusted onto the center of Dean's chest. He could feel the rise and fall of it and was pleased when we could begin to feel some type of pattern in his breathing. Dean's face was strained, unlike Sam's, which lead John to believe that Dean was feeling every ounce of pain right now. John's heart ached. He didn't know which he preferred: Sam, unconscious, feeling nothing, oblivious to his pain; or Dean, semi-conscious, in a world of pain, felling every minute of it.

The Impala zoomed in and out of lanes, this is the most cars they've run into in the whole time driving to Kris' house - go figure. Of course in an emergency, they'd run into traffic. Bobby smacked the steering wheel and waved his hand.

"Out the way, you jackass!" he beeped the horn, slamming on the brakes just as the light suddenly turned red. The whole car jerked. John pressed Sam into him and gripped the front of Dean's shirt in his attempt to keep them from moving with the inertia of the car. Dean groaned at the sudden weight being pressed onto his head wound. John kicked the back of Bobby's seat, less out of anger, but more of an instant reaction due to the stress he was under.

"Damn it, Bobby! Careful!" John scolded. He turned toward Sam whose head has jerked backward toward Bobby then fell back hard onto John's stiff, tense shoulder. Dean slid toward the edge of the seat, hissing in pain. Almost immediately John found himself apologizing, even though he had no control or fault in this situation.

He petted the side of Dean's head while he made small, smooth, soothing circles in the center of Sam's back. John closed his eyes, becoming more and more overwhelmed by the second.

From behind the wheel, Bobby turned toward John and the boys while the light was still red; stopping them for the time being.

"I'm sorry," John mumbled. He rested his head on top of Sam's for a moment. His cheek getting lost in the curls. Bobby felt his eyebrows raise a little in concern for all of them. For a second, his eyes caught John's and he gave him a look that said, 'Hang in there. We'll be there soon.'

The older hunter turned back around, his heart beating rapidly in his ears, drowning out all other sounds in the world. He didn't hear the car behind him urging him to go and he didn't hear the scream of the tired against the street as they skidded off way over the speed limit. To keep himself calm, Bobby tapped the side of the wheel in a rhythm so quick that it almost kept up with the pace of his heart. Bobby couldn't say it out loud - not here, not now; but he was almost as terrified as John. They way both of the boys were so still, the paleness of them, the blood-loss, the way they found Sam: with his hands tied and tape over his mouth... These boys have been through Hell; and the more the thought about it, the more he felt his emotions go out of control.

The Impala hit another bump and Dean groaned. It was quiet, and if John hadn't been listening out for the slightest sound out of them, he wouldn't've heard it. John sat forward a little, but still managed to keep Sam in the same position in his arms. He shook his oldest son's shoulder firmly.

"Dean?"

Again, he groaned. His eyebrows scrunched together as he exhaled. John saw him pull his hand into a weak fist. The corners of John's mouth pulled upward as his lips parted for a small smile of relief. John watched as Dean's eyes moved under his eyelids slowly.

Johns spoke softly, "Dean, open your eyes. C'mon, son."

His eyelids felt heavy, like there was an one hundred pound weight keeping them closed - or perhaps Super Glue. Somewhere in the distance, Dean could've sworn he heard his father calling him. He could swear that he was in a car. But he just couldn't open his eyes to prove it. The only thing that seemed real to Dean right now was the pain shooting through his head and down his body. Everything that was happening only made his head feel worse. There was a hand on the center of his chest, then his shoulder, shaking him. He wished it'd stop, though. Even with his eyes closed, shaking him was only making him dizzy and his head ache more.

The boy's eyes fluttered open just slightly and the light felt like fire. He wanted to shield his eyes with something, but he didn't have the strength to move anything else. He blinked rapidly a few times, his vision finally coming into focus. The white could they seemed to hover over his line of vision slowly disintegrated and formed into the world around him. He could tell he was lying on his back, just like the last time he remembered being awake, but this time it was different. This time around he was looking up at the roof of a car - his dad's car.

"Dean..."

His eyes slid toward the sound of his name being called. Finally, his eyes landed on his fathers for a moment and he saw something he never saw before: his father was crying. That only made Dean more nervous. Something was wrong - really wrong. Was it Sam? Was something wrong with Sam? Why was his dad crying? Was it.. himself? Was something wrong with himself? Dean couldn't think straight. Suddenly he couldn't remember anything. Why was he head hurting? Why was his father upset? How come he couldn't move? Why is he in so much pain?

Dean tried to talk, tried to ask if Sam was okay, but he couldn't find his voice. All he could do was look up at John. His eyes began to close again, though they didn't have too far to go seeing as they were only half-way open to begin with. Before they could shut, there was another shake and it somehow forced him to peel his eyes back open a little more.

"Stay with me, Dean. Keep your eyes open."

But almost moments after John said that, Dean's eyes fell shut again and his body relaxed.

John felt his body and his heart jump at the same time. He shook his son again, this time with a little more urgency. From the front seat, Bobby could only hear what was happening behind him and for a moment he was a little relieved that Dean had woke up, but that didn't seem to last too long. It could've only been a minute before John was yelling, "Dean, wake up!"

Bobby pressed on the gas pedal harder but it was still about seven minutes till the hospital. Seven minutes with John juggling both his sons. Seven minutes of the boys probably getting worse. Seven more minutes of time able to be spent on worrying about what Kris did to them.

Seven minutes too long.

In his arms, out of the blue, Sam started coughing. His whole body shook at this sudden happenings. Sam's fingers gripped the collar of John's shirt. In between coughs Sam would gasp for air in such a way it made John's heart skip a beat each time he'd do it. He could hear the strain and desperation each time Sam took a breath. And through all of this John felt helpless. What could he do?

Removing his arm from around Dean, John took hold of Sam with both his hands. He patted his back softly as he rocked in an easy motion, shushing him. He cared through the back of his son's hair as he spoke to him softly, praying that he could actually hear him. "It's okay, it's gonna be okay," John whispers. "Just calm down. Daddy's here, Sammy - shh, it's okay."

For a moment, Sam was quiet. Tears slid from under his closed eyes and down his cheeks as he continued the struggle of breathing in and out. In his left ear, John could hear the wheezing Sam was doing. John pulled him closer.

"Keep breathin', Sammy. You hear me? Stay strong, son. You can do it..." He stroked Sam's back, hoping that it was helping in the least to release whatever tightening sensation he had around his chest area.

He felt Sam's body go ridged again as he slipped into another coughing attack, but this time in brought on new dangers. Deep red, thin blood spilled over Sam's bottom lip and down his chin as he coughed. It first it caught John by surprise and his face scrunched with confusion. But he quickly snapped out of it and reacted the best he could. John took the sleeve of his shirt and pressed it to Sam's mouth.

John looked out the window. They weren't too far from the hospital now.

"Bobby, speed up."

John looked at Sam, blood sliding down his face and onto his shirt as he continued to cough violently; then down at Dean who had slipped back into unconsciousness, his head still bleeding. John was beginning to feel overwhelmed but he couldn't let that get the best of him right now.

They flew down the street and into the parking lot of the big, brown hospital. Bobby didn't even park, he just stopped in the emergency lane, and threw open his door. Reaching out, he flung open John's too and held his hands out prepared to take whichever son he was handed. John didn't give one up, though. He managed to get out of the backseat with Sam wrapped in one arm, occupying the left side of his body and Dean wrapped in the other arm, occupying the right side of his body. Bobby didn't question him or anything. Once they were out, he just closed the car doors for them and followed John into the emergency room.

The automatic doors slid open and in came a frantic father with both his sons in his arms. He jogged into the lobby, opened his mouth and yelled, "Help! I need help!"

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