Hi everyone! I am so very sorry I took so long to update. This week has been absolutely insane, but I have some good news. This is the longest chapter yet.

Second I realized I never said what my story was called that I had asked you all to look at. It is called Terror in Indiana in the Flashback section. I promise it gets better after the first chapter.

Third, thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing this story! I appreciate it immensely! :)

Ok on to the story

***

"Family of Samuel Winchester."

John felt nauseous as he spied the blood on the doctor's scrubs. He knew it was his Sammy's blood and judging by the doctor's face, she did not have good news.

The three men exchanged a worried look before approaching the middle-aged doctor.

The woman somberly greeted the men. "Hello, I'm Dr. Thatcher. I've been assisting with the care of Samuel."

John shook the doctor's hand. "I'm Sam's father, John Winchester. These two are Sam's uncles Caleb and Bobby."

The doctor nodded at Bobby and Caleb before motioning down a hallway to the left.

"Why don't you guys follow me?"

Dr. Thatcher led the three men down the hall to her office. She opened the door and gestured to the chairs sitting in front of a desk. Once everyone was seated in a chair Dr. Thatcher began.

She took a deep breath before breaking the news to the family of the young boy. "Okay, I'm sorry to say that Samuel is in critical condition at the moment. The gash on his forehead required twenty stitches to close up the wound. He has a large goose egg on the back of his head. The two injuries he possessed resulted in a grade II, or moderate concussion. Also his left wrist is broken and is going to require surgery. The surgery will consist of the surgeon inserting two screws into the bone, but we cannot do that surgery just yet."

John had paled at the list of Sam's injuries, but the last words the doctor said bothered him the most. "What do you mean cannot do the surgery yet?" John choked out.

Dr. Thatcher hated this part of her job. Her young little patient was in critical condition and she had to now explain that to the boys' family.

Dr. Thatcher gave John a sympathetic look. "Mr. Winchester, Sam was speared in the back by a piece of glass. This is never a 'minor' injury, but in most cases glass wounds are relatively easy to fix."

Dr. Thatcher paused to give the three worried men a moment. "I'm guessing Sam is not a usual case," Bobby commented.

The doctor nodded her head yes sympathetically. "Sam is not a usual case. The glass in Sam's back managed to nick a small artery, which accounts for the massive amount of blood loss he has endured over the last few hours."

John felt his stomach flip. He looked down at his hands. "Is he gonna be okay?" John asked quietly.

"Mr. Winchester, Sam is in critical condition. We cannot risk performing any operations on him right now unless his life absolutely depends on it because his body is simply far too weak now. However, Sam's life does depend on a surgery. Sam lost a large portion of his blood supply in the last few hours. The significant loss of blood resulted in Sam arresting twice in the exam room. The lack of blood in Sam's system is causing him to have a dangerously low blood pressure. This makes it possible for patients' blood pressures to bottom out."

Dr. Thatcher gave the grief-stricken men a moment to process the new horrifying information.

"Please call me John," John mumbled. The need to be called John was trivial, but he did not care. He was about to lose it and that comment prevented him from completely breaking down.

"Ok, John, we decided to intubate Sam to help his body in one way. His body is just so warn out right now. Sam is like a car running on empty. He needs to be refueled, which is why we have already started Sam on blood transfusions."

"But won't the nick in the artery cause him to continuously lose the new blood?" Bobby asked.

"Yes and no. The nick is small so over a large period, Sam would lose most of the new blood, but enough to keep his organs functioning is remaining in his body. However, the blood transfusions are not a cure. They are barely a viable temporary solution, but they are the best chance Sam has right now. We performed some war-time medicine in the ER, but at the moment Sam's body is becoming weaker and weaker."

The doctor felt her heart break as John's grief-stricken eyes filled with tears.

John swallowed the lump in his throat and asked, "What do you mean war-time medicine?"

The doctor took a deep breath before explaining. "In a war, medics do quick temporary repairs to simply buy the injured more time. That is what we did with Sam. We attempted to clamp off the artery but that will only do so much. He is still bleeding and really needs surgery. In fact he is being prepped right now, we just need your consent."

John new what Dr. Thatcher meant by war-time medicine. He had seen it many times in 'Nam. The doctors do messy quick repairs to give the dying a slightly greater chance of survival. Half the time though, if a bullet had nicked someone's artery, they did not pull through because the war medicine was not capable of replacing the lost blood.

John wanted to vomit, but he kept the nausea at bay and signed the consent the forms Dr. Thatcher handed him. The nurse waiting by the door took them away from John to be filed.

John turned back and looked Dr. Thatcher straight in the eye. "Doctor can my son survive this surgery?"

Dr. Thatcher wanted to cry. She thought of her teenage boys at home and felt miserable simply imagining what this father was going through. "John…Sam is very weak. It is honestly a miracle he lasted this long. We need to repair the artery and replenish Sam's blood supply without him having any adverse effects from the new blood. This is going to be a rough surgery on him. I am so sorry, but I cannot make any promises but I assure you, I will do my absolute best to save your son. I promise you John, I will do my absolute best."

John felt tears roll down his cheeks. He looked over to Bobby and Caleb and saw tear tracks on their faces as well. Sammy might die. John wanted to scream. He wanted to stand up and destroy Dr. Thatcher's pristine office. He wanted to punch a wall and yell at the top of his lungs. He could not lose his youngest, he just couldn't. John however, kept his composure for the sake of Sam.

Dr. Thatcher got up and gently grabbed John's arm. "John, I'm going to go prep myself for Sam's surgery now. If you would like to head up to the surgical waiting room on the third floor, I will send a nurse out when Sam's surgery is done. Also, if you are a religious person, there is a small chapel on the second floor."

John shook the doctor's hand again. "Thank you, Dr. Thatcher."

The three men got up and followed the doctor out the door. Dr. Thatcher headed back into the ER as the three men got on the elevator.

Bobby reached over and pressed the button for the third floor. A moment later John pressed the button for the second floor. Bobby and Caleb looked over at John's stoic facial expression and said nothing. They said nothing when the doors opened at the second floor. They said nothing as John Winchester silently got off the elevator and headed to the chapel. They said nothing when the doors closed and the elevator continued the journey to the third floor.

***

John paused outside the door to the chapel. He had been a religious man once upon a time. Religion is what got him through the Vietnam War, but he turned his back on his beliefs after Mary's death. He had been a mess at her funeral and was standing there holding a baby in one arm and Dean's tiny little hand in the other hand watching as his young wife's body was placed into the ground. At that instant, John turned away from his beliefs. He just had not been able to understand how a higher power could do that to him. Leave him a widower with two tiny children.

Everything was different though today. The thought of Dean's leg and the thought that his youngest could die in the next few hours had John yearning for the support and comfort he used to gain from believing that somewhere out there existed a higher power. John took a deep breath and walked into the chapel. He found it empty and breathed a sigh of relief. He did not think he could do this if others were here.

John walked to the front of the chapel and sat down in a pew. He folded his hands in his lap and looked up at the cross.

"Hi. I know you are probably wondering where I have been. I know it's been a while. After Mary I just could not bring myself to believe in my religion anymore, but for some reason today I miss the help it gave me. I'm sorry I turned my back on you but I'm sorry and I need you now more than ever."

John felt tears fill his eyes once more. "Please, my babies are in trouble. I need help. Dean…Dean you have to let him make a full recovery. He would be destroyed if his leg is permanently deformed. He would be destroyed…And…And…"

John's shoulders shook as he began to sob thinking about Sam.

Through the sobs, John yelled out his plea. "Please, PLEASE, PLEASE! I cannot lose… my baby…The doctor doesn't seem…too confident…He can't die…PLEASE! I need my baby...You already took Mary from me…, please don't take Sammy too…I need him…He's the last…piece…of Mary I have…don't take him from me…Dean couldn't handle it…Neither could I…Please look out for my boys…I'm begging you!"

John bowed his head and let himself cry for several minutes as he kept muttering "please."

***

Twenty minutes after Bobby and Caleb had last seen John; they saw him walk into the surgical waiting room. Neither man commented on John's red puffy eyes or tear-stained cheeks. John sat down next to the two men and placed his head in his hands as the three waited for news on the two injured boys they loved dearly.

***

About two hours after Dr. Stilm had discussed Dean's condition with he three men, a nurse came into the surgical waiting room and called out, "Family of Dean Winchester."

The three men's heads shot up at the words. They each stood up and walked over to the nurse. They then followed her down a hallway until they ran into Dr. Stilm.

John immediately asked, "How's my son?"

Dr. Stilm smiled at John. "The surgery went very well. We managed to repair the damage without any major issues. Now Dean is being settled into his room and in about ten minutes, you guys can go see him. I need you guys to be prepared though. Dean's leg is going to look gruesome now. We have his leg in what looks like a medieval device for right now, just so that we can make sure nothing shifts for the first two days. In two days, barring no complications we will place his leg in a full-length cast."

Dr. Stilm gave the three a moment to absorb the information. We will talk in a few days about how Dean's recovery will be handled. For now, the surgery went well, and we will all just have to wait and see.

The three men's shoulders sagged in relief. John smiled and shook Dr. Stilm's hand. "Thank you."

Dr. Stilm nodded and excused himself before heading off to check on another patient.

***

Ten minutes later, John, Bobby, and Caleb were sitting around Dean's bed.

John had been shocked by Dean's appearance. He had naively expected Dean to look pretty good, but he had clearly misinterpreted what the doctor meant by the surgery went well.

Dean did not look at all like anything that could possibly be described as well. His face was sheet-white with dark circles under his eyes most likely from lack of sleep and complete exhaustion. Various small cuts marred parts of his face and arms. An IV ran into the top of his hand, but the absolute worst was his leg. The whole limb was swollen and discolored with many gauze pads hiding the various surgical scars. The metal brace was holding Dean's leg straight out.

Bobby who had seen Dean's leg when it was completely disfigured thought Dean's leg looked much better, but Caleb and John did not have that comparison to make.

John held Dean's hand in his as he laid his head on Dean's bed anxiously awaiting Dean's return to consciousness and news on his Sam's dangerous surgery.

***

OR:

Sam was lying on his side on the operating table. Everyone in the room was incredibly nervous. Sam's vitals had steadily been on the decline since the operation began. His body clearly was not ready for the stress of the operation. Dr. Thatcher was having a difficult time repairing the artery. The grass had nicked the artery in several places and because of the movement Sam endured during the aftershock and the change of locations. the glass had moved around some in Sam's back causing a lot more damage than she had originally anticipated. She was halfway done with the repairs when Sam's blood pressure bottomed out and the OR echoed with the shrilling long beep of a flat line.

Dr. Thatcher stared wide-eyed at the monitor. "NO DON'T YOU DARE DIE ON ME NOW SAM!"

***

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