Author's Note: I'm sure you all want to kill me, and for that I'm sorry. It's been a little while. But I've been busy. Really busy. Sorry guys. But I took and hour or so and wrote this for you. Hopefully you enjoy what's left of the story. Reviews and support is always wanted and cherished. Thank you. I appreciate you.

Ignorance Is Bliss, Chapter 12

Worry had overpowered every other emotion John had at the moment. He stood there in the middle of the room, his eyes stretched wide open, his mouth agape, and his hands balled into fists. He doctors had did all but yank the wires out of Sam before pushing him toward the door, yelling and calling out things to each other. John jogged after them, but then he remembered Dean. He stopped. Dean couldn't be left alone, but John didn't want to leave Sam either. But what if Dean woke up? He'd want to have someone there with him.

"Damn it," John cursed as he headed back to the room Dean was in.

Bobby. John needed to call Bobby. He needed to be here. John- even though he hated to sound this weak- needed Bobby right now. Someone older, wiser, with a slightly clear conscious that can keep him even a little sane. John felt like he was losing his mind. He'd already lost Mary, he couldn't lose Sam, too. He just couldn't.

John tapped his pockets, searching for his cell phone. He felt it in his back pocket, opened it, and dialed for Bobby. The phone rang twice before the older man's groggy voice mumbled a 'hello'.

"Bobby, I need you to come back to the hospital," John announced, and in that moment he realized how much he sounded like he was on the verge of tears or something. John cleared his throat, closed his eyes for a second and just tried to slow everything down for just a second. Bobby, on the other end, didn't even ask what was wrong. He didn't need to. All he knew was that something had happened with one of the boys.

"I'm on my way," Bobby answered before he hung up the phone.

-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-

John had sat on the edge of Dean's bed in sort of a dismay. He felt so out of place, so worried, so scared all at the same time. He'd never felt this way before. All of this was sort of foreign to him. He honestly couldn't bring himself to think of anything or anyone but Sammy right now, but he wished he could. All this thinking wasn't helping him in the least.

He lifted his knee and tried to slide it on the bed. Accidentally , he bumped it into Dean's side. In response he made a moaning sound. John's head whipped to his right to see Dean looking up at him absently. He was confused, that was apparent.

John's eyes lit up and he did all he could to pull on a smile for his oldest son. The thought of telling him about Sam bounced around in his head. He should tell him, he deserved to know, he'd want to know. But he didn't need to hear it right now. The last thing Dean needed was all that worry on his mind. He hadn't even been awake for more than ten minutes. John figured it could wait.

"Hey, Dean," John called softly as he rested his hand on his son's shoulder.

Dean stared absently at him for a moment or two only blinking now and again. He saw Dean cut his eye part John. He was looking for Sam.

"You're in the hospital, son."

John searched Dean's eyes for recognition. He was patient.

"How do you feel?"

Dean looked down at his hands and John felt his eyebrows scrunch up a little and he couldn't help but wonder if maybe Dean couldn't talk for some reason. John shifted on the side of the bed trying to get a more head-on look at his son.

"Dean-"

"Wh'r's Sam?"he asked; his voice was soft and he sounded winded a little.

John should've known that would've been the first words he said when he woke up. He scratched his nose.

"Sammy's...uh, well..the doctors are with Sam right now."

Dean didn't like his dad's tone of voice. The way he could tell he was searching for something to say. It made Dean nervous and the heart monitor showed it. John didn't comment on it, but he noticed the increase in rhythm of Dean's heart beat. See? This is why he didn't tell Dean the truth, or, the full truth, that is. He didn't want this to happen. He didn't need Dean all worked up right now, it'll be too much pressure and anxiety for the both of them.

"'S he 'kay?" Dean looked directly in his father's eyes, mentally telling him he demanded the truth.

For a second, John had to look away.

"They're...they're working on him, Dean. Try not to worry, okay? He'll be fine."

John tried to keep his voice steady, tried to come up with comforting words, but it was hard with his mind yelling at him what was actually happening.

Sam could be dead right now, his mind screamed. You saw it. You saw him flatline. You saw whatever color he had left drain from him. You saw how panicked the nurses and doctors looked. And now you're lying to Dean? You don't think he deserves to know what's really going on? He's taken care of Sam more than you ever could have...

"Why don't you get some rest? C'mon, no need to waste all your energy."

Dean shook is head no the best he could with all the wires attached to him.

"Wanna wait f'Sammy," he says. His voice is slow and rough. And even though his mouth said he was staying up, is eyes were begging for sleep. John moved Dean over a little so there was enough room for him too on the bed. He wrapped his arm about Dean's shoulders and let his head rest on him. He could feel Dean looking up at him.

He searched to find his voice.

"'M s'rry," Dean mumbles, his eyes finally beginning to close.

John looks down at him, confused slightly. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he tells him.

But Dean just keeps going. "It's m'fault Sammy's h'rt. I should'a protected'em."

Again, John shakes his head.

"No one's blaming you, Dean. Stop blaming yourself-"

"'M sorry," Dean repeats just as his eyes fall shut.

John listens to the beeping from his heart monitor as they slow and even out to a steady pace that lets John know that he's asleep.

-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-

Kris panicked.

She yelled.

She screamed.

She broke lamps, punched walls, and tossed glass dishes.

"I have to go. I need to go." she kept telling herself, but she never left the house.

She remembered the way John yelled, the worry he had in his eyes as he help his sons and carried them out of the house.

Kris slumped to the ground, tears sliding down her cheeks.

But she didn't know why she was crying.

Honestly, she felt good.

But something was overwhelming. Something was different and it was getting to her.

Hours passed, and she didn't even notice.

Her head was spinning.

She knew she was in trouble.

She knew she should go...somewhere, anywhere.

"I have to go. I need to go."

Clothes. If she was leaving, she needed clothes.

Quickly, she ran into her room and literally flung whatever she could into the biggest bag she had. Her hair flew all over the place, her face hot and red.

"I have to go. I need to go," she said again just as she jogged out of her bedroom and pulled open the front door.

But she stopped short, gasping a little.

A gun, silver, pretty, and cocked stared her right in the face.

"Going somewhere?" said the man holding it.

Again, I apologize for the wait for this chapter, but I hoped you still enjoyed it. Review?