Well...once again I'm blown away by the response to this story. I'm so happy and flattered that you all seem to like it so well. The reviews have been so wonderful! Thank you all so much! Well, in this chapter, angst abounds! I hope you all like angst ;) So...I'll let you get reading.

Cindy

Chapter 3 – Waiting and Watching

John glanced worriedly over for the umpteenth time at his eldest son. Dean normally would be pacing the floor right now, worry always making the young man jittery and nervous and unable to keep still, but this was different. Dean was silent and still and hadn't lifted his eyes from his hands in over an hour. The only movement coming from Dean was when he would turn his hands over to look at his palms, his breath hitching every time before he would turn them back over. John looked down at the young man's hands and flinched. Dried blood was imbedded beneath the fingernails and in the fine lines of his skin. John was sure more blood would be deep in the recesses of lines on his palms as well. John swallowed back at the tightness in his throat that formed upon seeing the blood. This was Sam's blood…his baby boy's blood, and it was on his other son's hands. Sure, Sam's blood had been on Dean's hands before, but never like this. Never was Dean the one who had made Sam bleed…never had he been the reason they were waiting for news on their youngest. John reached over and gently grasped Dean's forearm. He smiled tiredly when red rimmed, green eyes glanced up at him.

"The police will be here soon I'm sure. You need to go scrub your hands, Dean," John said softly.

Dean stared blankly at his father then looked down at his hands. "I…I don't know what happened. I don't remember…"

"Dean," John said, his hand squeezing lightly until Dean looked up at him. "It wasn't you, Dean. It was the witch. Somehow she got to you. You would never hurt your brother. I know that…he knows that. Now, you need to go scrub your hands. I know we could explain that the blood got there by performing resuscitation, but I'd rather not risk it so just…go wash your hands…splash some water on your face."

Dean nodded absently, but didn't move. John's heart broke at the anguish he saw in his son's eyes. He couldn't even imagine what Dean was going through. It was bad enough when one of his boys got hurt on a hunt. If he knew it was by his hand, no matter the situation, he didn't think he could handle it. "Dean…it's going to be okay. Sammy's going to be okay," he comforted, hoping against all odds that he was right.

A tear rolled down Dean's cheek as he dropped his eyes. He brought a hand up and scrubbed it over his face before glancing back up at his father. "What if he isn't, Dad? He stopped breathing…his heart stopped beating. What if they can't bring him back? I mean, he could be…he…I can't live without him, Dad…I can't live knowing I killed my little brother. I just can't!" he cried.

John blinked back his own tears then looked around to make sure nobody was within range to hear Dean's words. He returned his gaze to his son and sighed. "Dean, if they weren't able to revive him, they would have been out already to tell us. The fact that it's been over an hour tells me that Sammy is fighting. You know your brother. He's not going to give up without a fight. He's not going to leave us if he can help it. He's one stubborn kid and you know it."

Dean chuckled lightly at that and nodded. "Yeah…he is isn't he?" he said softly.

"Yeah, he is. Now go wash your hands before…" John started, but then Dean's eyes shot over his shoulder and the young man was on his feet in an instant.

John stood too and turned to follow Dean's gaze. A man dressed in scrubs with a white doctor's coat over the top strolled quickly in their direction. John's eyes dropped to the man's torso and he flinched at the blood that stained his top. The man was holding a clipboard in one hand and as he neared the two expectant hunters, he held out the other hand.

"Mr. Winchester?" the man asked. John took the offered hand and gave it a quick shake.

"Yes, I'm John Winchester. How is my son?" John answered.

"I'm Doctor Murray. I've been taking care of Sam," the doctor said as he glanced over at Dean.

"I'm Dean, Sam's brother. How is he? Is he going to be okay?" Dean offered hastily.

"Let's have a seat over in the corner, shall we?" Dr. Murray said before stepping around the two men and heading for a grouping of chairs in the corner of the waiting room.

Once the three men were seated, Dr. Murray looked up and sighed. "Sam presented with quite extensive injuries when he was brought in. As you know, he had stopped breathing and his heart had stopped. The EMT's were able to get him breathing again and they were also able to get his heart beating, but his condition was very precarious when he was brought into the ER," Dr. Murray started.

"But, he's going to be okay, right? You fixed him up and he's going to be fine," Dean interjected, his normally calm voice shaking as he stared wide eyed at the doctor.

Dr. Murray sighed again and looked at Dean. "I wish I could say that he was going to be fine. I wish I had better news to bring to you," he answered.

"What are you saying, Dr. Murray? Are you saying my son isn't going to make it?" John asked urgently.

"No, I'm not saying that. I'm saying there is a possibility that he won't make it," Dr. Murray answered.

"But, he could make it, right? He could pull through?" Dean asked, the young man on the verge of tears.

"Yes, he could, but…as I said, his injuries were extensive. He's on his way into surgery as we speak to fix a tear to his liver. He has internal bleeding that can't be explained by the liver tear so they will be trying to locate that bleeder. He's lost a great deal of blood and coupled with all of his other injuries…well, it's going to be a struggle for him," Dr. Murray explained.

"What other injuries? You have to tell us everything," John said gruffly.

Dr. Murray glanced over at the distraught father and quickly realized that this was a man who didn't want a sugar coated explanation. He wanted to know what his son faced down to the very last scratch. The doctor wasn't as sure about the son, but he was sure that the father would handle that part of it. He smiled tiredly and began to speak.

"Sam has a fractured jaw which will be wired during his surgery. He also has a cracked left cheekbone and eye socket. He has several broken ribs, but thankfully none of them punctured his lungs so he has that going for him. It appears as though he was strangled due to bruising on his neck and throat. You saw the EMT's insert the intubation tube. That tube is keeping his throat from swelling shut. He stopped breathing one time after he was brought in so a ventilator was necessary…"

"Wait…he has a machine breathing for him?" Dean asked, his voice near panic at the thought.

"For the time being, yes. If everything goes well in surgery, he may be able to be taken off the vent in a few days," Dr. Murray answered.

John sucked in a deep breath then let it out slowly before he spoke. "So, is that it? Is that the extent of his injuries?"

"No, I'm afraid that's not it."

"What else?" John asked reluctantly.

"He has a slight concussion due to a knock to the back of his head. It also appears as though he was kicked or punched repeatedly over his face, torso and legs. This beating is most likely what caused the tear in his liver and the unknown bleeder. He has a broken nose which we set in the exam room and he also has a broken left wrist, possibly from being kicked while trying to protect himself? That will be casted once the swelling has gone down. We are a bit concerned about his left eye. We won't know if he has any vision loss until he wakes up and we're able to do a vision exam on him…"

"He could be blind in one eye? Oh God…" Dean started, his breathing hitching as he doubled over his lap.

John reached over and laid his arm across his son's back. He leaned over and craned his neck so he could see Dean's face. "Dean…calm down before you hyperventilate. We can deal with this," he said evenly.

Dean looked up and took a deep breath. He straightened in his seat and glanced over at his father. "Calm down? Sam could die, Dad! And if he does live, he could be blind in one eye! He stopped breathing so he could have brain damage! Am I right, doc? Could he have brain damage too on top of everything else?" he cried desperately.

John looked over at the doctor and waited for his answer. "I'm afraid that is a possibility. We're not really sure how long Sam's brain was deprived of oxygen so there's no way to know until he wakes up," the doctor answered sadly.

"I started CPR and mouth to mouth right away…as soon as he quit breathing…then the EMT's took over," John offered hopefully.

The doctor nodded and smiled slightly. "That's good. The sooner resuscitation measures are started, the better," he said.

"Please tell me that that's all there is. Please, doc," Dean said pleadingly, his green eyes staring imploringly at the doctor.

"That's pretty much it. He has a lot of bruising and some cuts on his face and lip, but all of that should start to heal and fade rather quickly.

John nodded and glanced over at Dean before returning his attention to the doctor. "So, how long for his surgery? When will we be able to see him?" he asked.

"That just depends on what they find once they've gotten inside and also how Sam does during surgery. He'll for sure be going into the ICU, though I'm not sure if it'll be the pediatric unit or not. With his age it could go either way, though I'm inclined to say it'll be the pediatric ICU. I can't really say when you'll be allowed in to see him and for how long you'll be allowed to stay with him. That will be up to his surgeon," Dr. Murray answered.

"Could he die during surgery?" Dean asked softly, eyes staring wearily at the doctor.

Dr. Murray looked over and his heart went out to the young man. He could tell there was a deep love for his patient from these two men, but it seemed as though it was hitting the brother harder than the father. Maybe the father was just able to keep his emotions more hidden, but it seemed to the doctor that there was more to the brother's handling of the news than just fear of losing his brother.

"I'm not going to lie to you. There is a chance that Sam won't make it through the surgery. With the blood loss and trauma to his body…frankly, I'm a bit amazed that he made it to the hospital, but he's young and otherwise very healthy, and I could see he has a fighting spirit. All of that will work in his favor. I think given that and the love from you two, he has a decent chance," the doctor answered truthfully.

Dean nodded and looked over at John. John stood, the doctor and Dean following suit. "Thank you, Dr. Murray. Thank you for helping my son," he said as he reached for the doctor's hand.

Dr. Murray took John's hand then Dean's when the young man offered it. "I'll send someone down to take you to the surgical waiting room. The surgeon will come there to let you know how Sam is doing," he said.

"Thanks," Dean said softly.

The doctor nodded then turned and walked away from the hunters. They both stared after him then John turned to his son and sighed. "Go wash your hands, Dean then we'll go up to the surgical waiting room," he instructed.

Dean nodded then turned and shuffled toward the bathroom on the other side of the waiting room. John sat down and rested his elbows on his knees. He dropped his head into his hands and allowed the tears that he'd held at bay while the doctor was talking to them to fall. He couldn't believe this was happening. He couldn't conceive of the notion that he could lose his baby boy. He knew that if that happened, he and Dean would be destroyed. He feared what Dean might do considering the deep guilt the young man was feeling. If Sam died, John was almost certain Dean would soon follow. There would be nothing left for John to fight for then. There would be no reason for him to keep breathing. The survival of his family rested on the fragile shoulders of one sixteen year old boy…the sixteen year old boy that was everything in the world to him and his eldest son. The heart and soul of their family…the glue that held them all together was fighting for his life not knowing that if he lost that fight, his entire family would cease to exist.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Dean couldn't take the waiting any longer. It was tearing a hole inside of him the size of the Grand Canyon and each minute that ticked by added to the size of that hole. Sam had been in surgery for nearly two hours with no word from anybody about his condition. Didn't they understand that Dean needed to know how his brother was doing? Didn't they care that his entire reason for breathing was lying on that table? Didn't they get it that if his Sammy died, he'd die right along with him? Of course they didn't understand. Who could understand the bond that had been forged between the brothers one fateful night nearly sixteen years earlier? John couldn't even understand the strong connection and he was faced with it on a daily basis. Dean lurched to his feet, the air in the room suddenly stifling and thick. He headed toward the door, but stopped when his father called out to him.

"Dean…where are you going?"

Dean turned and shook his head slowly. "I…I can't sit here any longer, Dad. I have to get some air. I can't breathe in here," he answered breathlessly.

John stood and walked over to his son. Dean was sure he was going to make him stay, but when the older hunter pulled off his jacket and handed it to him, Dean cocked his head and eyed his father curiously. "In the rush and confusion at the motel you forgot your coat. It's cold outside and I'm not going to have you in here too with pneumonia," John simply stated.

Dean smiled slightly and took the offered coat. He slipped it on then gazed up at his father. John smiled and reached out to pat Dean's arm. "He's going to make it, Dean. You'll see…he's going to pull through. He'd never leave you…not in a million years," he said.

Dean nodded as he turned toward the door. "Thanks, Dad. I won't be long. If they come to talk about Sam before I'm back, call me," he said before slipping out of the door and leaving his father to wait alone.

Dean shoved his hands into the deep pockets of John's coat and hurried toward the lobby. He had to get outside where maybe he could breathe. He rushed through the lobby and out the doors, the crisp February air nipping at his face as the light wind swirled the light dusting of snow that had fallen since they'd arrived at the hospital around the hunter's feet. Dean looked around the dark parking area and sighted a small grouping of trees at the south end. He rushed toward the trees, eager to escape the hospital, if only for a little while. Hospitals meant sickness and injuries and sometimes death and he just couldn't deal with it being Sam who required the medical attention, especially when it was his hands that had done the damage to his brother. Dean reached the trees and found that they encircled a small patio area with three park benches set along the edges of the trees. Dean walked to one of those benches and slowly lowered himself down onto it. He rested his hands on his lap and stared down at the ground, the images of his brother lying on the floor of the motel room covered in blood and not breathing filling his mind.

"God, Sammy," Dean cried softly. "I'm so sorry." He lifted his arms up and wrapped them around his head, the young man collapsing over his knees, tortured, grief stricken sobs escaping him as he finally allowed the emotions that had been building up inside him out. He had no idea how long he sat there rocking forward and back, sobbing his heart out. He only knew that his entire life was inside that hospital fighting for his life and that nothing else mattered. Not finding his mother's killer, not anything. Sam was what mattered. Sam was always what mattered most. Nothing else even came close. The sudden ringing of his phone had the young man springing to his feet and digging into his jeans pocket. He flipped the phone open with ice cold, numb fingers.

"Dean," his father's drawn voice sounded before Dean was even able to say hello. "The surgeon is here. He has word about Sammy."

"I'll be right there!" Dean called before flipping the phone shut and sprinting out of the patio area and across the parking lot.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

John and Dean stood outside the glass door leading into Sam's ICU room. Long curtains blocked their view of Sam, the curtains covered with cartoon pictures of elephants and giraffes and numerous other animals. Dean chuckled despite himself, knowing that his brother would be mortified if he knew he had been placed in the pediatric ICU where stuffed animals and cartoon characters were the order of the day. At least he wasn't in a room with clowns on the curtains, Dean thought idly as he waited for John to slide the door open. The surgeon's words still rang in Dean's ears and he had a sudden jolt of terror run through him at the idea of seeing his baby brother so critically ill.

The surgeon, Dr. Gamers if Dean could remember correctly had told them that Sam had crashed on the operating table and it had taken eight minutes for them to get his heart beating again. He had survived the surgery, just barely, and now lay in a coma in critical condition while machines kept him alive. His liver had been repaired and upon further inspection, it was discovered that he had suffered a perforation of his large intestines. That had also been repaired, but the threat of infection was greater now. The word sepsis had been used and Dean may not be a doctor, but he knew that sepsis was not something they wanted Sam to have to deal with. Blood loss had been a major concern as well and still was. They wouldn't know until after Sam awoke, if Sam awoke, whether that blood loss had resulted in any brain damage. Dean startled when he felt a hand land on his shoulder and he jerked his eyes around to find himself staring into dark, tired eyes.

"Are you ready, Dean?" John asked as he gave Dean's shoulder a light squeeze.

"Yeah…I'm ready," Dean answered warily, his heart racing in his chest as John slid the door open.

The two hunters pushed through the curtains and when they got their first look at Sam, neither one could believe what they were seeing. The slowly walked up to the bed, Dean taking the right side and John the left. They both stared down at their youngest family member and tried to keep their emotions at bay. Sam's face was a mess. The left side of his face was swollen and nearly black with bruises, his left eye completely swollen over. His nose was three times its normal size and blood rimmed each nostril. Dean's stomach lurched when he looked at the tube protruding from Sam's mouth. The ventilator that the tube was attached to whooshed and hummed with each breath it forced into Sam's lungs and Dean thought he may be sick. He sucked in a deep breath then continued his appraisal of Sam's condition. Sam's left wrist was in a brace and rested lightly over his stomach. Sam's chest and torso were bared with a multitude of wires stuck to several places. A large white bandage covered much of his lower abdomen. A needle had been stuck into a vein in his neck and a small plastic tube ran from the needle and up to a bag filled with a white milky substance. Other needles with more tubes were in the veins on Sam's right hand. Clear fluids were in two of the bags attached to these tubes while a third bag contained life giving blood.

Dean reached out a shaky hand to touch Sam's arm, but drew it back and let it drop to his side. As much as he wanted, no, needed to touch his brother, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd done this…he'd put Sam here and it didn't matter if it was the witch that had whammied him. It was his hands that had punched and choked, his feet that had kicked, his face that Sam had seen as he was being beaten nearly to death. He should have fought whatever it was. God knew he had thought something was wrong when he'd kept having the sudden feelings of anger and hate toward Sam. He should have told his father. He should have insisted that John not leave him alone with Sam. If he had, Sam wouldn't be lying here fighting for his life. Dean glanced up and met his father's concerned gaze. John opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment the door to the room slid open and a woman with light brown skin who appeared to be in her forties walked silently into the room. She smiled at both men then stepped up next to John.

"I'm Jenny. I'll be taking care of Sam tonight. I take it you are his family?" the woman asked in a soft, soothing voice.

"I'm John…Sam's father. This is Dean, his brother," John said in reply.

"Nice to meet you both," Jenny said as she went about checking Sam's vitals and the tubes and wires that ran from every visible part of his body. Dean and John watched intently, but any fear that the nurse would be rough with their precious boy was put to rest when they witnessed the gentle way she touched Sam's face and whispered softly words of comfort as she carefully lifted the bandage from his torso and checked his incisions. "Such a sweet, gentle boy," she whispered as she stepped back and glanced up at the monitors that surrounded the bed. She took a few notes then turned her attention to Dean. She smiled and winked at the confused young man. "I'm right aren't I? He is a sweet, gentle boy?" she asked. "I'm thinking he's pretty smart too?"

"Yeah, he is. How do you know all that?" Dean answered suspiciously.

"Well, let's just say I have a certain knack for knowing things. I've had the gift all of my life. Got it from my momma," Jenny said.

"You're a psychic?" John asked.

Jenny cast her gaze to John and smiled. "I guess psychic would sum it up pretty well. I can't see the future, but I can sense things about people. I can read thoughts. Like I can sense that your sweet boy is fighting real hard to get back to you two. He loves you both very much," Jenny answered before returning her gaze to Dean. "And, I can sense that he doesn't blame you, Dean. He knows it wasn't you who did this to him," she added knowingly.

"Wait! What are you saying!" John snapped as he looked over to see that Dean had paled considerably.

Jenny looked at him and nodded. "I know about the witch. She's been terrorizing this town for a long time, but nobody knew or would even believe that a witch was behind all the hurtin' that's been goin' on. She cursed your eldest with her dying words. This is the result," she answered. "Don't worry, I ain't gonna tell anybody. It was the witch. Dean would rather die than to hurt his baby brother…I can see that."

"So, I'm cursed? I could hurt Sammy again?" Dean cried as his terrified eyes went from Jenny to his father. "Dad…I can't be here! I have to…"

"Shhh, Dean…it's alright now. The curse is gone. You did what the witch desired…you hurt your brother. It's over," Jenny said as she came around the bed and gave Dean's arm a gentle squeeze.

Dean glanced over with tear filled eyes. "Are you sure? I'm not going to hurt him anymore?" he asked fearfully.

"No, sweetie. You don't have to worry about that anymore. And you don't have to worry about touching him. He needs you to touch him…to talk to him. He needs both of you to help him find his way back from where his is right now," Jenny explained.

"What do you mean from where he is?" John asked, dark eyes wide with worry. "Where is he?"

"The other side, John. He's floating somewhere in the middle of here and there. He'll have to make a decision and he'll need to know that he's wanted and needed here in order to make the right decision," Jenny answered.

"And if he doesn't make the right decision?" John asked, his voice thick with fear.

"Then he'll die."

Dun, dun, dun! Yes, I know that Jenny sounds an awful lot like Missouri, but I promise you I wasn't even thinking about Missouri when the idea of Jenny came to me. This was planned as a short story so I needed John and Dean to learn about exactly what was going on as quickly as possible and also know what Sam was facing in addition to his obvious injuries. This was my solution.

I leave tomorrow for the cabin so I'm not sure how the internet connection will be. I may not be able to post until we return on Friday. If I can, I will post sooner. Thanks for reading and take care :)

Cindy