AN1: Wow, what was that... a 3-month fanfic hiatus?! geez. BUT I finally got myself in gear and started on this fic again this month. Yay me! (I think it's a Valentine's Thing? ... O.o)

AN2: For storyaddict69, LeighAnnWallace, Eliza Ghost, PsychoPicasso, Sesshomaru-gal, snseriesfan, Rosetta Brunestud, mdavidson0421, weedom and our guest reviewer for your reviews and support! I was so stuck with some strange version of writer's block and then, when I got my first review on chapter 8 WHAM I got inspiration for the next chappie! Thanks, you guys!

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John's not Sam

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John's on the phone again. This time it's some vampire hunter in Illinois.

Sam's trying his best not to let his personal feelings get in the way and see this whole situation objectively. But, when you're watching how unsteadily the heart-machine keeps beeping… how his blood pressure seems to see-saw on some invisible wave… it's hard to keep your personal feelings detached.

When a weight suddenly lands on Sam's shoulder, it's unfortunate that John had to witness his son jumping out of his skin. The young Winchester quickly whirls around and tries his best to catch his breath and to smile at the same time, "Nurse de Sousa… "

"I'll call you back, Eugene," John hangs up the call and walks a bit closer, "Is he better?"

"We have to take him off the Anaesthesia, which will wake Dean up… but we're going to keep him mildly sedated and see how it goes… if it doesn't improve by the hour, we'll try a different route…" the woman replies, but she doesn't seem too enthusiastic about this approach.

John just stares impassively at the whole situation. Not a fleck of worry on him – in Sam's opinion.

"Like I said, he will be sedated, and we'll keep him on some pain medication, of course… we're going to transfer him to the ICU," Alicia says and nods towards John, "Mr. Winchester… Do you have any questions?"

"Will he be in a lot of pain?" John asks, the fleeting moment of him biting his lip in nervousness doesn't escape Sam's notice though.

"He'll probably feel better for pain, partly for the medication and partly for the fact that his appendix was removed successfully… but he'll be dizzy because of the fluctuation of blood pressure…" she says and purses her lips for a moment before nodding and turning towards Sam, "Oh… the nurse on duty told me that Dean reacted well to you being there… he seems to stay calmer for longer, so if it's possible, could you stay with your brother for as long as possible?"

Sam nods sheepishly, "Sure…?"

And that's how, twenty minutes later, Dean's stacked in a private ward and looking bleary-eyed at Sam and John. "What time is it?" he says, his eyes blinking one at a time.

"It's 4:11 am, Dean," John says after checking his watch.

"Hey Sam…" Dean yawns loudly and snorted, "Wow… you got good at your Dad-impersonation… do Ellen next!"

"Dean, it's Dad," John says and has to stop himself from reaching out to hold Dean's hand, "Hey, bud… how're you feeling?".

"No, that's still Dad… try Ash, that might be easier… heeheheh," Dean says and shifts in the bed to find a more comfortable position. He pauses for a minute, then jostles himself as if he just remembered that he didn't finish his sentence, "Ash, Sam… Assssh… and not the one from Pokémon either…. Heheh"

Sam snorts and can't help but feel a bit of pride. At least Dean knows that his brother will be there for him, no matter what.

Dean blinks a few times with a blank look on his face, then smiles, "Hey... what time is it?"

"It's 4: 12 am, Dean," Sam answers this time, since John's got his head tilted and trying to figure out whether or not Dean's just being a smartass or if he's really just loopy.

"Hey, Sam... can we rent Happy Gilmore again?" Dean mumbles and shuffles deeper into the sheets, falling right asleep again.

"How much morphine did they give him?" John looks accusingly at Sam –as if Sam had anything to do with it.

Sam shrugged, "I don't know…. But they did say they put him on a sedative too… so…" as if that little bit of information solved the whole problem.

"Look, I've got to make a call, take care of him," John says and waits until Sam nods before taking his leave.

One thousand… two thousand… Sam counts in his mind and smirks when he got to 'three' and he could hear John's footsteps finally disappearing down the hall –as if their father had expected the brothers to coerce as soon as he was out of the room.

Which is not far from the truth, by the way.

"Dean, Dean!" Sam pinches Dean's arm, "Stop kidding around, man!"

"Mmmmm hmm…" Dean mumbles irritably, trying to rub his right arm with his left, but ends up batting it instead- the Anaesthesia not completely worn off enough to allow Dean full body coordination.

"Are you faking it?" Sam growls dangerously and holds on to the rail of the hospital bed in order to lean over. He's kind of expecting Dean to pop open his eyes and then wink and let him know that he was, inf act alright... but nothing comes. So, Sam sighs and rubs his head, "I'd feel much better if you were just faking…." He muses to himself.

"It's Sam, right?" Alicia's voice was heard from the door.

Sam bolts upright, nods and steps to the side, just in case the nurse wanted to do a once-over.

"How's he doing?" the woman asks and check the charts hanging on the ledge of the bed, "Did he wake up yet?"

"A few minutes ago… but he's.. still out of it…" Sam sends a worried glace Dean's way, "Is that normal?"

"Yes," the woman replies offhandedly and walks closer to Dean's side and takes his wrist in hand, "You must be pretty close…"

The machine at Dean's side suddenly starts beeping.

Sam scans it over, watching the blood pressure count drop. He's not sure when a drop starts to become dangerous, and he's not sure if he should be freaking out just yet or just keep calm.

"Still?" Alicia says with a professionally-restrained frown. She releases Dean's wrist and walks to the foot of the bed and waves her hand in the air to get Sam's attention, "I'll check in on him again in fifteen minutes, alright?"

"Thanks…" Sam replies and turns his attention back to Dean.

He didn't get it. Strugoi. That's what his father had said. But it didn't make sense to Sam, at all. Strugoi wasn't in the journal, otherwise either Sam would've SEEN it at some point… or Dean would've mentioned it… right? And besides, Strugoi in Boston? Wasn't that a Romanian-local supernatural?

"Dean, wake up," Sam taps Dean's cheek and quickly asks his burning question, "Are Strugoi in dad's journal?". 'Cause if they are, Sam'll feel guilty for NOT bringing their Dad's Journal along. If they are, then the one place where they'd be sure to find an answer as to how to kill it... is sitting in the motel almost three hours away.

"Hmmm mmm…" Dean shakes his head lazily and licks his lips, "Is ther… water?"

Sam's satisfied with the lethargic answer and walks to the bedside cabinet, grabs the water jug and glass, pours some water in a glass for Dean. Turns out, by the time he turns back, Dean's asleep.

He takes a seat on the edge of Dean's bed, but doesn't try to wake him up again. Sam doesn't have the energy at the moment. How many weeks since they last properly slept? Either of them? And for the past three nights it's been a miserable nightmare. And it's actually quite comfy on the hospital bed. Just sitting there. Long legs lazing on the chair. Resting his elbow on his knee and head on his hand.

A drift of cool breeze. Just a slow time warp against the rush of the past few days. Calm and serene and all the things a hunter can never be.

"Sam?" it's a whisper but it still causes Sam to reflexively tense his entire body into an entirely alert state. "Calm down, kiddo…" John's face comes into focus and he offers a small smile, "But it's time to get up, we've got some work to do."

Sam bites back a groan and gets up.

John softly walks over to Dean's side, takes one last stretch of a look down the hall for any hospital staff and finally retrieves a Glock from the back of his jeans, "Take this," he hands Dean the gun, and helps Dean to slide it under the sheet along with the rest of his arm. Dean's attention seems to weave in and out along with his consciousness. Which is not a good idea, considering the Winchester Code of: Shoot first ask questions later.

"Okay, Dean, you need to keep it together, bud… the Strugoi is attacking you and four other patients in the hospital and you're spread out. We're going to try and nail this thing, but you have to be -" John taps Dean's cheeks lightly and that's enough to wake his son up again, "awake for this… you got it?"

"Yes, sir," it's so automatic that Dean's eyes are still closed.

John finally turns to Sam and hands his youngest the sawed-off, "Sam… Dean's out…"

Sam pursed his lips and tucked the shotgun under the spare blanket on the chair for the moment, "More like out of his mind…"

To prove this point, Dean's only looking at them through one eye, somehow managing to keep the other closed. 'Just resting my eye' is probably the comment Dean's got on tap to say as soon as they ask. If Dean's even lucid enough to think of being a smartass at this point.

"I'll see what I can do to contain this thing…" John ushers Sam closer to the door to get them out of earshot of the older brother, "but this thing… it's definitely got a sweet tooth for Dean, so don't just stand out here and update your facebook status. Got that?"

"You know about facebook?"

"I know about myspace too," and John gives Sam a superior look, to which Sam can only smile -for the first time since he was a kid.

"Right… I'll keep watch" and for the first time -in seemingly years- Sam's the obedient soldier and big brother. And, this time, he actually doesn't mind.

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Thanks for reading! I'll try to update with the next chappie ASAP!