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hey. I hope you all like this chapter. It may be a little confusing but I will explain it all in the next chapter!

Chapter 16

Dean awoke with a start. He was momentarily confused, he was still half asleep.

"Da-"

John Winchester looked up. "It is okay, you were sleeping." He was backed in his chair. He was slumped slightly, leaning heavily on it for support.

Dean was incredulous. How in the hell had he fallen asleep? His brother was on the brink of life, barely holding on and I decide I am all tuckered out?

"Cut yourself some slack," John said, correctly guessing Deans mood from his facial expression, "You are just out of a coma. Your body is still recovering. It is no shame."

Dean chose not to answer. He shook his head. He turned his head, looked over and searched for Sam. His bed was empty. Pure terror coursed through him. "WHAT?" He

demanded of John. "Where is Sammy?"

John was out of the chair in a second. He moved beside Dean. "Calm down." He squeezed Deans shoulder. Dean winced at the gesture. His face was pure white. "Sammy went

down to surgery four hours ago."

Deans mouth moved noiselessly. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"You need your rest." John tried to sound fatherly. Dean wiggled his shoulder from under JOhns palm. "Now you want to be my dad?"

John withdrew his hand. He frowned. "Dean," John warned.

"what?" He asked defiantly.

"Do not talk to me like that."

"I will talk to you anyway I want to. I am a grown man." Dean shouted. "You have no right to fricking do that. If he dies..if he dies...then." Deans shout turned into a whisper. John

frowned. He reached out a hand to Dean. Dean slid away from him. JOhn sighed. He crouched. His head was level with Deans.

"Dean." He said to his son. Dean did not turn around.

"Dean please." Dean did not turn.

"You do not have to look. Just listen then. I know that you are scared. I know that you feel helpless. It sucks just having to wait but believe me, this is the worst of it. Sam will live.

Don't worry about goodbyes son. You will have a lifetime for that stuff."

Dean turned around. He eyes were bright. He raised an eyebrow. He shot John a look that clearly said, where the hell did you get that from?

John shrugged uncomfortably. "I have had a lot of time on my hands."

"So you have been watching Oprah?!"

John smirked. "Something like that."

Dean laughed.

"Sir?"

Dean stopped laughing. The doctor stood over John, still in his scrubs. John stood up hastily. John and dean searched the mans expression. His face was carefully neutral.

"Sam?"

The doctor nodded. "Maybe we should talk somewhere more private." He motioned at Dean. Dean scowled. "Do not even think about it."

The doctor looked at Dean, in surprise, and back at John, who nodded.

"Fine." The doctor rubbed his hands. "As you know, we were operating on your son. The injuries were far more extensive than we first thought. We tried our best. Sir, I am sorry.

His injuries were far too extensive."

"Were?" interrupted Dean. "Past tense?"

John looked at Dean and frowned. "What are you trying to tell me...tell us?"

"Your son died about ten minutes ago."