The Way Home
Chapter 13
Disclaimer: See chapter 1
John Winchester was an imposing man, the six-foot frame and broad shoulders of the ex-Marine gave the impression of a man who could take whatever was thrown at him. He was one of those men that when he walked into the room everyone stood a little straighter, giving him room to pass through, he had an air of confidence about him that Dean hoped he would one day possess. But as the teen took the last couple steps that fully brought him into the small cubicle his father's hospital bed was in, he felt his breath catch, dark edges played in his vision, there was no way this was his father laying in the sterile-looking bed before him.
Jim stood behind Dean, Bobby just a step back, both men were shocked to see how vulnerable John looked, so unlike the man they knew. However, both men's attention quickly went to the boy in front of them as they heard the sharp intake of breath. Even from slightly behind, Jim saw what little color Dean still had quickly leave his face as the boy's breathing became quick. Taking a step forward Jim reached for the teen just as his legs gave out, "Dean!" Bobby quickly came forward, grabbing Dean's other arm, getting the boy to the lone chair against the wall of the cubicle. Unfocused, green-eyes met Jim's as the older man knelt in front of the boy, "Dean?" The harsh breathing had Jim pushing the teen forward some, trying to get his head down, "Just breathe slowly…" Jim rubbed circles on the boy's back as Dean tried to draw in a breath.
A few tense minutes passed while Dean tried to get his breathing under control. Finally the spots in his vision receded as he was finally able to take in a lung full of air. Jim's voice sounded so distant to the boy as he closed his eyes, leaning back in the chair, his head resting against the wall. "Dean? Can you hear me?" For a moment the teen wanted to give into the exhaustion and fear he was feeling, almost willing himself into unconsciousness, but the worry in the Pastor's voice kept Dean grounded, he didn't want to add anymore burdens to the older man.
Slowly Dean opened his eye's, Jim's pale-blue eye's were filled with concern, his face creased with lines of worry , "I'm okay." Dean whispered as he looked up at Bobby, who was standing just behind Jim, worry clear on his gruff face as well. Leaning forward some the teen repeated, "I'm okay."
The Pastor noticed the boy put his hands on the arms of the chair, backing away Jim allowed the teen to push himself up into a standing position. Closing his eye's, taking a deep-breath, Dean opened them again and took the few steps needed to bring himself to the side of his father's bed. "Dad…" was the only word Dean choked out as he took in the sight of John. The teen had seen his father hurt before, he'd even kept vigil the couple times the man had been knocked out by something hurled at him by whatever they had been hunting, but he had never seen his father so injured, so sick that he needed a machine to breathe for him. Dean jumped slightly as the ventilator activated, artificially moving John's chest up and down.
The bruises that stood out against his father's pale features were an array of purples and blues, there were bandages across the gash just at the older man's hair line. The breathing tube disappeared between slightly parted lips, a weeks worth of dark whiskers accentuated the paleness of John's face. Dean's eyes traveled toward his father's chest, again the bruises were impressive in color and size, the white bandage from where they had operated to reset his ribs and repair John's lung stood out in contrast. The hunter's left arm was encased in a pristine-white cast, for a moment Dean's mind drifted to his best friend. Caleb would love nothing better than to draw some really obnoxious pictures and write something totally inappropriate on the blank canvas just to instigate the Knight.
Dean's eyes stung as he thought of Caleb, wishing so much that his friend was there with him, to tell him that everything would be alright, maybe to even ride his ass about the amount of 'chick-flick' moments he'd had since this whole ordeal had began. However, Dean knew if the twenty-two year old was with him, he'd be in the same shape, fear and worry consuming him, even as he would be trying to distract Dean from what was happening.
Slowly Dean reached forward, placing his hand over his father's. He could still feel the heat that was radiating off his Dad as the older man's body continued to fight the fever that the pneumonia had brought with it. Closing his fingers around his Dad's larger hand, the teen couldn't help but shiver as he remembered how his father's hand clinched in his as the seizure overtook him in the back of the ambulance. Slowly squeezing, Dean raised his other hand, placing it on his father's head, staring at the still features of the older man's face, "You keep fighting this Dad, I'm right here with you, don't you dare run out on me and Sammy." The teen's voice cracked as he whispered the words to his unconscious father, silently hoping they were getting through, "Sammy wanted me to tell you he's sorry for how he's been acting and that he wants you to come home soon, so please…" the emotions were getting the better of the boy as tears slipped free, landing on the pillow next to John's head, "Please Dad, I need you to get better, I can't lose anyone else." Dean's voice cracked at the end as he ran his finger's through his father's dark hair.
Jim and Bobby had stayed back, allowing Dean time with his father, as they heard the heart felt words whispered by the boy, their heart's clinched. Both men knew that behind the tough exterior the teen had been perfecting over the last several years, still lurked that scared five-year old they had met all those years ago, that same child had made a brief appearance again when they had found Dean, huddled on the floor in the trauma room. Both men had watched as the boy withdrew while awaiting word on his father, and both feared that without Caleb's help, the teen would continue to withdraw until John woke up.
The nurse stepped into the quiet room, "I'm sorry, but your time is up. You can come back again in an hour."
Bobby stepped toward the door as Jim came up next to Dean, "We need to go Son, you can come back again soon." The Pastor reached for the teen's arm as the boy did something totally unexpected, he leaned over the rail of the bed and placed a kiss on his father's forehead. Giving John's hand one last squeeze, Dean released his hold and silently left the room, Jim close behind.
Jim and Bobby watched as Dean walked back into the waiting room taking a seat near the lone window in the corner. The teen hadn't said a word to either man as they left John's side, that is what the older men worried about, it was like watching a door slam shut. The fifteen-year old was closing himself off, desperately trying to protect himself from what was happening around him. Bobby adjusted his hat as he looked at Jim. "I'm gonna head back to my place and pick-up your alls stuff, then I'll get a couple of rooms at the motel down the street, that way we'll be close by."
The Pastor rubbed his face as he glanced at Bobby, "I think that's a good idea Robert, though honestly I don't know if we'll be able to get Dean to leave the hospital until Jonathon wakes up." Jim looked back at the boy as the teen again pulled his legs up into the chair, wrapping his arms around them, laying his head on his knees as he continued to stare out the window. Bobby patted Jim's back as he turned to go, the Pastor slowly made his way across the room, taking the chair adjacent to Dean as they waited for the next fifty-minutes to pass, which would allow them another ten-minutes with John.
Oxoxoxoxo
Mac had fought sleep as much as he could, finally his mind rebelled and the older man dosed off next to his son's bed. As his subconscious took over the Scholar found himself at the one place that he had ever felt at home, Jim's farmhouse. Though Mac had lived in New York his entire adult life, it wasn't until he met Jim and came to the older mans farm that he finally felt he had come home. It was the one place he could feel at peace. The Doctor didn't know if it was the calming presence of the Pastor or the open spaces that contrasted so much with New York, but Mac really did like visiting Jim's. It had been one of the first places he had taken his foster, soon to be adopted, son Caleb. The boy had hated the farm at first, but soon found the property a calming place as well. It was Jim's that they'd come to around the anniversary of the death of Caleb's parents, during those times the teen had been more susceptible to episodes of depression. However as the years passed and the Winchester's came into their lives it was where Mac and Caleb both found their brother's in the form of John and Dean allowing new anniversaries to replace the old.
Mac was sitting on the back stairs of the farm house when he heard the screen door open, turning he was surprised to see Caleb step through, taking a seat next to him, Mac couldn't help but stare. "Take a picture Dad, it'd last longer." Caleb's cocky grin accompanied the comment.
The Doctor reached over and pulled his son to him, "God, Caleb…" The fear of his son's continued unconscious state caused tears to form in his eye's at the sound of the younger man's voice. Pulling back Mac looked at Caleb, "Are you okay?"
Caleb looked out across the farm, then back at his father. The twenty-two year old wanted to take away the fear and worry he saw in the older man's face. "I'm okay Dad."
"Does this have something to do with your abilities? Is that why you haven't woken up?" Mac kept his hand on his son's arm, needing the contact.
"Something like that. I don't exactly know how it's happening, but somehow I know there's a reason for this." Caleb wanted to reassure his father, but he couldn't tell him about helping John just yet, somehow he needed to try and figure out what happened on his own first, or at least finish what he felt he needed to do before he could wake up. "It's just going to be a little while longer, I don't know how I know, but I just do. There's something else I need to do, once that's done I should wake up. So you need to take care of yourself and stop worrying about me so much." The hint of a smile crossed Caleb's face, but it soon disappeared as tears filled Mac's eyes.
"How am I suppose to not worry, you've been unconscious for over twenty-four hours." Mac reached up and placed his hand on the side of Caleb's face, "You have no idea what it's like to watch the person you love the most in the whole world lay motionless on a hospital bed and not be able to do a damn thing about it."
The pain the younger man heard in his father's voice and felt radiate off the older man scared Caleb, "I'm sorry, I never wanted to put you through something like this, but I don't know how this is happening, only that it is and I have to ride it out before I can wake up." Caleb reached up and placed his hand over his father's, "Just know I'm okay and I love you Dad."
Mac felt a tear slip free as he stared at his son, "I love you too, Son. Just come back to me soon."
The Scholar watched as the farm started to fade around him, as did the image of his son, Caleb's voice whispering, "I will Dad, promise."