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A/N ITALICS ARE jOHNS THOUGHTS
Chapter 5
"Dean?...Dean?...Dean!"
John shook the radio angrily. Why is he not answering? "Why is he not answering?" John's gaze flew to EMT who stood above him. The middle aged man shrugged
apologetically. John was kneeling beside Sam. Sam was still unconscious. Half his face was covered with an oxygen mask. Another EMT knelt on the other side of Sam. He
squeezed the bag, every few seconds, forcing air into Sams lungs. His hair framed his serious
face as he concentrated. Sam was covered with a blanket to protect him from the cold. John gripped his outstretched hand, which was far too cold for his liking. John tried again,
shouting into the radio. His son did not answer. The radio remained infuriatingly void of his voice. Speaking to Dean had calmed John slightly. It had allayed his fears. Dean was not
lying dead in a ditch. He was alive and waiting to be rescued. But the silence was the worst. The silence gave his mind a chance to fill in the blanks. He could imagine what was
going on on the other side of the radio. None of the images that came to his mind were good.
"Sir?" The radio was lifted gently out of his dazed hands. John grabbed for the radio. He missed and scowled.
"Give me that back. I need it to check on my son."
"Sir, there is a team looking after your other son at this point. There is nothing more than you can do for him. Your other son however." The middle aged, stocky man let the
sentence hang. He gestured at Sam. John understood the implications of the sentence. It was time to give an answer to their assessment of his Sammy's situation. It was time to face
the truth. It was time to refute the hopeful little bubble that existed inside of him. The one in which he had his children would walk out of this one, unscathed and put it down to
Winchester luck. It was time for him to face a reality that may not include his youngest if he made the wrong choice.
Help me. He silently pleaded. He was terrified by the mere thought of the weight on his shoulders. No parent should ever be faced with this. Mary. You are not going to get him.
Do not take him from us.
John supposed this was a time for him to pray. Personally, he did not bother. It was up to him to protect his child- no one else. John looked at Sams face for a second. He had not
answered when he was told of his childs predicament. Instead, he had preferred to ignore the EMT and threaten them. He was pretty sure that he was this close to getting arrested.
"What are the options?"
Another EMT took over. He explained to John that they had an ambulance on standby. Once Sam was free he would be rushed to the nearest hospital (4 miles away) for the
surgery his injuries required. It all sounded very simple to JOhn expect for one blinding fact.
"You do not think that he will make it as far as the hospital though?" JOhn asked, heavily. There was a squak in the radio behind John. He heard a man murmer in reply. John did
not break his gaze. He saw the man in front of him wince.
Do you have children?" John asked abruptly.
"A boy named Chris. A girl- Becca." John saw a ghost of a smile pass along the older mans face.
We always wanted a little sister for Sammy and Dean.Then again, Mary and I wanted so much for the boys that they never received...
John nodded, "You would do anything in this world to protect them." The man nodded, "Please tell me what his chances are."
"Very low. About 20" Johns head bowed with the weight of the news. "i am sorry."
"But he is strong. He is young and fit." Johns voice was low. He did not look up.
The EMT laid a worn hand on Johns back. The man could not look away from the still form of his son. "With injuries like your son's, his chances are very slim no matter what way
you look at it. I am sorry."
JOhn broke down. His back shook with his sobs. "I promised her..." He whispered between sobs.
"Who?" Asked the man,confused.
"Mary, the boys mother."
"Isn't she-"
"She died when they were kids."
"God forgive me." John closed his eyes.
"Every second my son stays here, the worse his chances get. If i take him out, he has 20 percent chance of survival. What am I supposed to do."John whispered to himself.
After a minute he came to a decision. " Do it now. Get it over with. Get Sammy out."