Chapter Fourteen
Dean looked up at the unmistakable sound of the Impala's engine. John was back. He watched as the classic Chevy slowly made its way up the drive and stopped. John didn't get out of the car.
"Is that Dad?" Sam asked, leaning forward slightly, his milky eyes narrowed.
"Yeah, Sammy," Dean answered and reached over to put his hand on his brother's knee.
The screen door opened and Bobby stepped out onto the porch, glancing at the Impala for only a moment before turning to the boys.
"I got a hold of an occupational therapist," he said, smiling triumphantly, "Her name's Rayann Muir. She said she'd be able to come by the day after tomorrow."
"Why not today?" Dean asked. He wanted to get Sam help as soon as possible.
"She said she'd try to figure out a schedule with us when she got here but for now it's the best she can do," Bobby explained.
Dean saw his brother's gaze lower.
"Don't worry, Sam," he said encouragingly, "It's gonna be fine."
Sam nodded but didn't reply.
Bobby's eyes took in the Impala and he scratched his head beneath his baseball cap, "Yer Daddy planning on joining us or is he just gonna sit there all day?"
Dean shrugged, "I don't know. Why don't you go ask him?"
Bobby shook his head, "Nah, let 'im stew a little longer."
Turning to Dean, the veteran hunter frowned, "You boys alright out here?"
"We're fine," the eldest answered, "Right Sam?"
"Yeah," he answered quietly.
Bobby nodded and went back inside, the screen door slamming shut behind him.
"C'mon Sammy," Dean stood up and went to the railing that surrounded the perimeter of the porch, leaning his forearms across the weathered wood, "Remember Poughkeepsie."
Dean hoped that John had sorted his shit out- at least some of it- and wouldn't say anything stupid in front of Sam.
As if he was aware that his eldest was thinking about him, John opened the driver's side door and stepped out. Dean could see from his father's expression that John had drank some the night before- not enough to have a hangover- but his eyes were a little too glassy, his face a little too haggard.
"Damn it, Dad," Dean muttered under his breath but smiled as John stalked towards the porch.
"Morning," Dean said once his father was within hearing-range. John grunted an unintelligible greeting.
"Bobby found a therapist for Sammy," Dean said before John had even reached the steps, "She'll be here on Saturday. Isn't that great?"
Dean caught sight of the sneer just about to form on his father's face before John sighed and nodded, "Yeah."
Dean didn't say anything else as John climbed the porch stepped and paused, looking at his youngest son.
"Hi Dad," Sam offered, his gaze far away.
"What are you doing out here?" John asked by way of greeting.
"I… uh…" Sam stammered, clearly uncomfortable with voicing the reason he was sitting outside.
"It's such a nice day that I thought we could sit out for a while," Dean spoke up, "Better than inhaling all that dust that's floating around the house."
John didn't reply, he just walked right past Sam and went inside.
"Jesus Sam," Dean sighed, turning to his brother, "He's not going to bite your head off, you know."
"I know, Dean," Sam insisted, "But I…"
"What Sam?" his brother pressed, "What is it? Are you worried he's gonna yell at you again? If he does I'll punch his lights out. Seriously."
Sam chuckled slightly and shook his head, "I disappointed him, Dean."
Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face, "Sam, we've been over this-"
"No Dean, listen," Sam interrupted, "I was never a good hunter. He always depended on you. I just got stuck with research most of the time-"
"I thought you loved that kind of thing," Dean smirked.
"I do… I did," Sam admitted. Research was far better than nearly getting himself killed during a hunt, "But that's not the point. I was a disappointment to Dad 'cause I was never as good as you or him. I wanted to go to school instead of practicing Latin; I wanted to go to dances and movies instead of stake-outs. So when I left to go to school, I figured that at least if I was a disappointment as a hunter than I could try and make Dad proud of me if I became a lawyer. I thought Dad would be proud that I got into college. But I couldn't even do that right…"
"Sam," Dean said after his brother's explanation, "What happened wasn't your fault."
Dean didn't say that he was sure John would have been disappointed in Sam even if he managed to get to Stanford and became a big-shot lawyer because he was turning his back on what reality, trying to cover up the truth with an apple-pie life.
"Sammy," Dean began but his brother was no longer listening. Dean sat back down in his chair and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of birds and cicadas, the wind through the tree branches and the two veteran hunters speaking quietly from inside the house.
SPN
Bobby didn't offer the younger man a beer when John came in. He watched John as he stepped inside and ran a hand through his dark hair, sighing as if he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"So, this therapist you've got lined up for Sam," John began without any greeting, "How much are they charging?"
"Is that all you care about?" Bobby grumbled, "How much money you need to spend to help yer son?"
John's dark eyes flashed with anger, "What's it to you?"
"What's it to me?" Bobby growled, "That boy is your son! Your child and you don't wanna cough up some money to help him become independent! Do you even want Sam to get better?"
"I told you before, Singer, this is not your problem!" John snapped, "Sam and Dean are my son's, not yours!"
"Than act like they're yours!" Bobby shouted back at his friend.
Instead of getting into a screaming match with the burly hunter John turned on his heel and stormed out the door.
Bobby ran after the younger man in time to see John grab Dean from his chair, "We're leaving."
"What? No!" Dean exclaimed and pulled his arm from his father's grasp.
"Dean," John said in a deadly voice, "Get in the car."
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean snapped, "I'm not going anywhere."
Bobby felt a cold hand touch his arm and he jumped, Sam was standing right beside him, unseeing eyes wide with fear.
"Dean?" Sam asked nervously, trying to find his brother. He took a step forward so that he was right behind him.
"John, knock it off!" Bobby growled, he reached out to tug Sam away from the two men but the boy was too far away.
"John, stop! Pay attention!" Bobby insisted. Sam was moving cautiously but steadily towards the edge of the porch.
"I'm your father and you will do as I say!" John snarled but Dean just shook his head, "You can leave but I'm not. I'm staying here with Sam."
Bobby almost didn't believe what happened next. John pulled his fist back to hit his eldest as Dean stepped back, running into his brother at the same time.
Sam, who was still unsteady on his feet, flailed for a moment, his arms flung out to grab onto something, anything without success.
In seconds he crashed over the side of the porch, the wood railing weak and rotting giving way under his weight.
John's fist just barely missed Dean's head. The younger man stunned by the startled cry Sam made as he fell.
"Sam!" Dean gasped and leaped off the porch where the railing had broken, "Sammy!"
Bobby hurried down the steps to try and help. He saw Sam lying on his back amongst the remains of the railing, a shocked expression on his youthful face.
John didn't move. He stood on the porch, looking down at the scene playing out on Bobby's long with a stunned expression on his face.
"Sam? Sammy, are you alright?" Dean asked frantically, "No, don't try to talk. Don't move."
The fall hadn't been that far, barely five feet but with Sam's injuries from the hospital, the fall that would normally just stun could be serious.
Dean leaned over his brother's face, trying to check his pupils. He had both hands on either side of his brother's face, trying to gauge his brother's injuries.
"Dean?" Sam muttered; blood leaked from the corner of his mouth and his brother hoped to God the kid had just bitten his tongue on the way down.
"Shhh," Dean murmured, "I'm here."
"What can I do?" Bobby asked, hovering protectively over both boys.
"Get the First Aid kit!" Dean demanded and Bobby vaulted up the porch steps, past John and into the house. He went straight to the kitchen and grabbed the kit that was beneath the sink.
He prayed that the blood he'd seen on the kid's lips wasn't anything serious. A trip to Sioux Falls General was the last thing Sam Winchester needed right now.
Stepping out onto the porch again, Bobby grabbed John's shoulder and squeezed hard, "Get some towels!"
John turned to Bobby but he apparently didn't hear him.
"Are yer ears painted on?" Bobby snapped, "Towels. Now."
Not wasting any more time, Bobby hurried down the steps and landed on his knees beside Dean, grimacing as the joints popped.
"I can't tell if he has a concussion," Dean said. Sam was squinting up at the sky, silent. Dean wiped the blood away from his brother's mouth with his sleeve.
"Sam," Dean called his brother's name, "Can you tell me what hurts?"
Sam closed his eyes for a moment, "My… back… wrist."
Dean glanced down at his brother's left arm; it was scraped and bleeding, the wrist already starting to swell. Sam must have landed on it when he fell, Dean realized.
Bobby opened the First Aid kit and took out a package of antiseptic swabs, handing them to Dean.
The young man tore the package open and unfolded the moist cloth.
"This'll sting a little bit," Dean said gently and began carefully wiping his brother's arm with the cloth.
Sam hissed but didn't protest. Once his arm was free of blood and grit, Dean got a roll of gauze and a tensor bandage from Bobby.
With practiced ease, Dean quickly wrapped Sam's wrist and settled it on his chest.
"We should get him up," Bobby said and Dean nodded, carefully helping his brother sit up. Dean positioned himself so that Sam was leaning into him, his chin on Dean's shoulder. Bobby moved so that he could examine Sam's back, pulling the young man's shirt up carefully.
The veteran hunter flinched at the bruises already forming on the pale skin. Sam's shoulder blades were scraped and oozing blood. The nearly-healed incision on his side was covered in dirt.
"Shit," Bobby muttered and used the antiseptic wipes while Dean murmured comfortingly to his brother.
W
Between the two of them, Bobby and Dean got Sam up and back into the house. Dean helped Sam sit on the couch and took a seat beside him, keeping an eye on his brother in case he did have a concussion.
Bobby made his way to the kitchen, washed his hands and turned around to see John seated at the table, a pile of old threadbare towels in front of him and a guilty expression on his face.
Bobby didn't say anything at first; he just puttered around the room as though John wasn't there, boiling water and making tea, shaking a couple of painkillers out onto the counter and filling up a glass of water.
"You gonna sit there like a lump or are you going to see your boys?" Bobby asked as he set everything out on a TV tray and disappeared into the living room.
He heard the chair scrape across the linoleum floor and smiled slightly.
"Here Dean," Bobby offered the pain medication and cup to the older boy, "Have Sam take these."
"Thanks Bobby," Dean muttered and turned back to his brother.
Bobby sat down in the blue wing-back chair that Karen had said she couldn't live without.
John moved close to the couch, looking sheepish and guilty.
"How is he, Dean?" the father asked nervously.
The younger man didn't answer for a moment, "He's hurting but he'll be okay, I think."
Bobby watched as Dean leaned forward as his brother's eyes closed, "Hey, Sammy, gotta keep those eyes open, okay?"
The younger man nodded and his milky eyes slipped open slowly.
"Sam?" John said carefully, "Are you alright, son?"
Sam didn't reply so John continued, "It was an accident."
Bobby watched Dean turn his head sharply to his father, looking like he was about to snap at the man but he didn't.
"Dad, maybe you should take a walk or something," John's eldest suggested, the underlying tone quite clear. Dean didn't want his father near his brother.
"Oh… Okay," John muttered, looking lost for a moment and slipped past Bobby without saying a word.
The grizzled hunter was shocked at the sudden change in the younger man. One moment he was a rage-filled brute, ready to become physical with his own son and the next he was a guilt-ridden mess.
Bobby got up from his chair and stepped outside, seeing his friend standing at the edge of the porch where the railing had broken.
"John?" he asked softly, "You alright?"
The younger man didn't answer and Bobby was alarmed to see his shoulders shaking.
"I hurt him," John said quietly, "I didn't mean to."
Bobby didn't know what to say. Sure, his actions had caused his youngest son harm but he also had been intending to hit his oldest boy.
The older hunter stepped up beside his friend, "What were you thinking?"
Bobby's words were spoken carefully, holding no judgment.
"I don't know," John admitted, "I just… How can we get past this? How can I make this better? Dean hates me… Sam barely speaks to me…"
Bobby took his baseball cap off and ran his hand through his thinning hair before replacing the battered hat. This was a first; John Winchester asking for his help.
"Well, first off you can stop blaming Sam for what happened," Bobby stated matter-of-factly.
John cringed, "If he hadn't left than-"
Bobby held up his hand, "Don't you think Sam knows that?"
John nodded but didn't say anything.
"Kid was only trying to do what he thought you wanted," Bobby continued, "He wasn't great at hunting so he probably thought it'd be better for everyone if he took himself out of that life. At least he'd live long enough to hit the legal drinking age."
John nodded and Bobby could have sworn he saw a tear slip down the younger man's face.
"Talk to him, John," Bobby said earnestly, "You're his father. You need to be there for Sam. Let him know he's not alone."
"But how? What do I say?" John asked and Bobby shook his head, "I can't tell you. That you'll just have to figure out on your own."
John gave a watery inhale and Bobby raised an eyebrow, "You think you're scared right now? Think of what Sam's going through."
The younger hunter nodded mutely.
"And Dean… he's not going to let me anywhere near Sam," John said, still not looking at his friend.
"Show him that you really care about them," Bobby said, "Let them know that you're there and are going to stay there for them."
John nodded.
Bobby remained silent for a long moment before speaking up, "You can start now."
"Huh?" John asked, glancing at Bobby with his brows furrowed in confusion.
"That railing needs fixing," Bobby pointed to the space where the wood had broken, "You can start showing that you care by working on that."
John opened his mouth to speak but Bobby was already at the doorstep, seconds later he had ducked inside, leaving the younger hunter standing alone on the porch.
SPN
Sam was incredibly tired. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep. But Dean wouldn't let him. Dean kept talking to him, telling him to stay awake if his eyes closed for a bit too long.
His back ached fiercely and he couldn't remember why. His wrist throbbed with pain but when Sam glanced down at the gauze and tensor bandage covering it, he couldn't recall where he'd received the injury.
Sam closed his eyes. It wasn't like there was very much to see anyway, nothing but a permanent white mist.
"Sammy! Hey! You can sleep later, buddy!" Dean's voice was very loud in Sam's ear and he grumbled. Why couldn't his brother just leave him alone?
Sam flinched away when his brother lifted one eyelid with his thumb, "Don't!"
"You gotta stay awake, Sam. You might have a concussion," Dean told him.
Sam couldn't quite remember what the word 'concussion' meant but he knew it was bad.
"Kay…" Sam muttered and tried to find a more comfortable position on the couch, one that didn't cause his back to shriek with pain whenever he put pressure on it.
SPN
Dean glanced up when Bobby walked back inside.
"How's he doing?" the grizzled hunter asked and Dean shrugged.
"He's pretty out of it."
Bobby nodded and Dean frowned at the trouble expression on his face.
"What? What's wrong?"
"We have to make sure Sam's kidney's alright," Bobby said, "Make sure it didn't get too bumped up when he fell."
Dean nodded and swallowed nervously. Although the drop had not been a long one, it wasn't all that difficult to damage a kidney and since Sam only had one…
"What should I look out for?" He asked Bobby.
"Uh…" Bobby scratched his head for a moment, "I know Jefferson left some pamphlets around here somewhere…"
Dean watched as the older hunter sorted through a stack of paper odds and ends on his desk before pulling out a pamphlet distributed by the American Kidney Foundation.
"Swelling in the legs, face, or hands… rashes… nausea and vomiting… change in urination…" Bobby stopped and sighed, "Also fatigue, back pain, dizziness."
Dean frowned, "Well we might not know if anything's wrong until Sam gets over the concussion."
Bobby nodded and handed the pamphlet over to Dean for further consultation.
The eldest Winchester read the signs and symptoms of kidney failure, every so often speaking to his brother to make sure Sam hadn't fallen asleep, and hoped that his sibling wasn't in danger of a very long hospital stay.
After a while Dean began hearing strange noises coming from out the front door: Hammering and sawing and the odd curse.
Getting up from the couch, Dean stretched and wandered to peer out the front window that showed a view of the yard and porch.
Dean stared dumbfounded at the sight of his father, hammer in one hand, a bouquet of mails in the other as he scrutinized a couple of two by fours sitting on the porch.
John Winchester was fixing the broken railing.
Dean jumped when Bobby stepped up beside him and handed him a root beer.
"What did you say to him?" Dean asked the older hunter and Bobby just winked.
"Someone had to fix that railing and I sure as hell wasn't going to ask you to do it," Bobby answered and Dean smirked a little bit.
The young man opened the can of soda and took a long gulp of the beverage. Wandering back to the couch, Dean sat down beside his brother. Sam's milky eyes were open and he turned his head in Dean's general direction when he felt the cushion dip down next to him.
"You want something to drink?" Dean asked and Sam nodded.
"Okay, I'll be right back," Dean stood up and went into the kitchen. He grabbed a glass and filled it with water and immediately went to the pantry, plucking a pink straw from the container that he had found sitting at the very back of the shelf.
Although Dean had worried Sam would complain that drinking out of a straw was for kids or sick people, his younger brother hadn't said a word when Dean had first given him one.
It kept embarrassing spills to a minimum and Dean knew that his brother was grateful for that bit of dignity.
"You want some lunch?" Bobby asked, walking into the kitchen after Dean.
The younger man shrugged, "I'm fine for now."
Bobby, who would normally be stunned at Dean's refusal to eat, simply nodded. The older boy would not eat or sleep or move far away from his brother's side until he was certain Sam was well again.
"But yer gonna eat dinner," Bobby told Dean and the younger man nodded.
Dean went back into the living room and sat down beside his brother once more, "Sam!"
The youngest Winchester's eyes slid open at the sound of his name.
"I've got some water for you," Dean told him and guided the glass into his brother's hands, maneuvering the straw so Sam didn't have to search for it.
Dean leaned back while his brother drank the water, picking up his own can of root beer from where he'd set it on the coffee table and listened to the sounds of Bobby puttering around in the kitchen and John hammering away out on the porch.
Slipping an arm around his brother's shoulders, Dean smiled when Sam leaned into him like he used to do when they were younger.
"Everything's gonna be okay, Sammy," Dean whispered, "I promise."
Author's Note:
1. Thanks to BranchSuper, nupinoop296, cold kagome, reannablue, MysteryMadchen, judyann, L.A.H.H, mandancie, SPN Mum, babyreaper, 2012summerstar, doyleshuny, SamDeanLover28, peacenparis, Dorianimeyaoilover, Samstruck and Guest for reviewing.
2. Thanks to everyone who alerted, followed or favourited.
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