Summary:  The Winchester family is faced with something it never saw coming not even in their worst fears, especially Dean's.
A/N:  Yet, another take on the events following “Devil’s Trap.” This will be AU because this story will not follow the likely outcome of the season opener.
Disclaimer:  The characters of Supernatural were created by Eric Kripke. The show is owned by the CW network. No profit is being made.

October 31, 2007, Halloween

Dean came into the kitchen through the door from the garage and tossed his keys into a basket on the counter. “Hey, Lucy …I’m home,” he did his best Ricky Ricardo imitation. He spotted two bags of candy on the counter near the fridge and picked them up looking at them. One bag was peanut butter cups, and the other mini candy bar assortments.

“Don’t get any ideas,” John said as he walked into the kitchen. He was glad that Dean had felt well enough to return to work a week ago, and he could see the healthy color back in his son’s cheeks. “That candy isn’t for us.”

“Then whose it for?” Dean eyed the candy bars. There was a Hershey bar with is name on it, and he wanted one.

“The kids,” John answered absently as he opened a cabinet and pulled a box of spaghetti out. “We’re having pasta tonight,” John commented. “What kind of sauce do you want? Meat or Mushroom?” Dean was still trying to figure out the kids remark.

“What kids? Last time I checked it’s just us.”

“Trick or Treat,” John remarked. “It’s tonight from 6:00 to 8:00 and we live in the middle of suburbia Dean it’s a given.” Dean looked at his father as if he’d just sprouted horns and cloven hooves. “What?” He looked at his son with a dead pan expression.

“Who are you and what have you done with my father?”

“Well, we can’t very well turn off the porch light and not answer the door. It’s two hours,” John replied. “It won’t kill us.”

“It might,” Dean suggested. “Tons of screaming kids begging for a sugar fix.” Dean glanced at the bags of candy. “This enough?”

“It’ll be fine Dean,” John assured.

“Where’s Sammy?” Dean asked as he realized his kid brother hadn’t made his way into the kitchen yet.

“In his room,” John answered. “He’s in a bit of a snit or something. He wouldn’t tell me what it was about.”

“Well, did something happen at the library today?” Dean cast a worried glance toward the other side of the house.

“I asked him,” John countered. “He told me the library was fine. He’s been quiet and moody all day Dean. Maybe he’ll talk to you.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean agreed. He started to leave the kitchen.

“Hey,” John called out.

“Yeah?” Dean said turning.

“You never answered,” John said as he held up to jars of sauce. “Meat or Mushroom?”

“Sammy hates mushrooms dad.”

“Damn, that’s right,” John groused. “Okay, meat. You know…” he began before Dean left. “If you hadn’t gone on and on about them being fungus when he was six he would have never stopped eating them.” Dean smiled. He and his father hadn’t reached a complete truce, but they had some common ground and things were good, as much as Dean hated to admit that … they were good. His dad had stuck around when he was sick and had been there for him and Sam. He still didn’t trust that he wouldn’t up and leave, but at least for now he was here.

John went about cooking up some dinner for himself and the boys. Dean walked toward Sam’s closed bedroom door. Dean knocked quietly. “Sammy?” No answer.

“Sammy, can I come in?” Again, silence was his only answer. He put his hand on the door knob and tried to turn it. It was locked. Okay that’s new, Dean thought to himself. Sam had never locked his door since moving into the house, and now he apparently wanted to keep the world out. “Hey, Sammy,” Dean spoke a little louder. “What’s with the locked door, huh? Come on let me in.” He paused for a moment. “You okay? It couldn’t be that bad.” Dean put his ear against the door and listened. He didn’t hear anything on the other side … no rustle of paper or the springs in the bed moving it was quiet, too quiet.

“Okay Sammy!” Dean raised his voice. “You’re startin’ to worry me. Open the door!”

John heard the urgent timbre in his son’s voice and turned the sauce down on the stove and went to see what was wrong. “Dean? What’s wrong?”

“He’s not answering and the door’s locked.” Dean’s eyes were wide with alarm. “Sam, I’m not kidding man … either open up or I’m kicking the damn door in.”

“Sammy? Son? It’s dad,” John spoke to the door. “Come on and open up.” There was no reply.

“That’s it,” Dean stepped back to kick it open and John stopped him with the simple raise of a hand. “What?” Dean hissed. “Something’s wrong.”

“He’ll come out when he’s ready,” John answered.

“Are you kidding me? He’s not answering and the doors locked. I’m not going to sit around to see if you’re right. He could be in there turning blue for all I know.” John understood Dean’s alarm because he felt it too.

“Sam?” John spoke gently and evenly. “I’ll tell you what,” he suggested. “Just tell us you’re all right and we’ll leave you alone, okay? And, if you want … we’d like to see you for dinner at 5:00 in the kitchen.” Dean looked at his father like he was nuts. In his head he had all ready concocted a medical crisis for his brother. All he saw on the other side of the door was his brother unable to speak and turning blue. John could almost read his oldest son’s thoughts and he raised a single finger indicating to wait, and then it happened.

“I’m fine,” the voice was quiet, but unmistakably Sam’s voice.

“Okay, Sammy,” John spoke softly. “Will we see you at 5:00?”

“Yeah,” quietly made it through the door.

“Okay, kiddo,” John answered. “We’ll see you then.” He paused. “Do you need anything?”

“No.”

“All right, see you in a bit.”

John motioned Dean out into the family room. “Just let him be Dean. He obviously wants to be alone, and he’s entitled to his privacy.”

“Dad, you know it’s different with Sammy. He’s got a seizure disorder that could escalate, and it’s just different …” Dean’s voice trailed off.

“And, I think he knows that Dean,” John suggested. “Look, he hasn’t had a break through seizure since he went on his medication, so don’t go looking for problems. If it’s not broke … don’t fix it. He’s a smart kid and knows we treat him with kit gloves most of the time like he’s a little boy still, but you and I both have to remember that he’s a grown man.”

“I know, but it’s…” Dean rubbed a frustrated hand through his hair.

“It’s harder to let go of the memories of him being hurt and helpless,” John suggested.

“Yeah,” Dean reluctantly admitted.

“It’s the same for me too Dean. But, when I see him I’m either torn between seeing my little boy still in overall’s playing in the mud or I see him staring at the walls blank and he’s not there. I think he just wants some of his independence back, and I think we have to give it back to him or at least on some level.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but I worry ya know? Sammy can walk and talk now Dad, but there’s things he still doesn’t understand and I just feel like I gotta keep an eye on him.”

“I know,” John conceded. “But, we both gotta loosen the apron strings on him.”

“Loosen, huh? Not cut?”

“Yeah, well, I doubt that’ll ever happen,” John answered. “But, more loose I think we can both manage. Agreed?”

“How about I agree to try?”

“Works for me,” John smiled.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Dean and John both tried to engage Sam in conversation by asking him about the library and how his day had gone, but Sam responded with simple one and two words replies. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be social tonight. “Sam?” John broke the moment of silence. His youngest son looked up from his plate. He still had difficulty with utensils, but John had solved that by buying silverware with a wider and not so refined grip area. Sam still couldn’t manage the fine motor skills required to hold a knife and cut, so either John or Dean would cut up food for him when needed. Sam hated it.

“Yes?”

“I thought you could hand out candy to the kids tonight for trick or treat,” John suggested. Sam shook his head.

“Well, I think it’ll be good for you, and you like kids. Of course, I could stick Dean on kid duty.”

“What? NO way!” Dean chimed in. “Hey, you bought the candy why aren’t you doing it. I mean … since when did we become the Norman Rockwell family anyway? We don’t do holidays, and we never did Halloween.” John gave his son an exasperated look.

“Hey, you used to love trick or treat when you were a kid,” John commented. Me and your mom…” John’s voice died off at the mention of his wife. Dean looked stricken as his father stared at his plate of pasta with haunted eyes. The table was quiet.

Sam never really cared for Halloween, but he’d rather face those kids instead of watching his brother try the task.. “I’ll do it,” Sam answered quietly. “Dean would eee…eat all the ccc…can…dy any…way and scare the kkk…kids.”

“Would not,” Dean rebutted.

“Would too,” Sam countered. “Mean and sur…sur…ly.” John laughed and both boys looked at their father.

“He’s got a point Dean,” John offered with a look of amusement.

“What? He’s callin’ me mean and surly, and you’re agreeing with him,” Dean feigned being hurt. “I’m not,” he grumbled under his breath. “I like kids … I do,” Dean added when he saw the look both his brother and dad gave him. “Hey, what about Lucas? Huh? I think I proved I like kids.” Sam nodded. John felt out of the loop on this one.

“Who’s Lucas?”

“Huh?” Dean said looking at his dad. “Oh, yeah, I guess you wouldn’t know,” he commented realizing that he had no idea about their lake adventure. “It was a job we went on last year,” he answered. “An angry spirit in the lake was drowning people in the lake or wherever the lake water could go.”

“Hmm… sounds like it was an interesting job. You boys got the spirit?”

“Ah, well, it kind of got what it was after and went away.” Dean answered. “Long story.”

“And, Lucas?”

“Just a kid we helped out,” Dean replied. “Him and his mom.” John nodded and looked at his watch.

“Well, we better finish with dinner pretty soon because that doorbell is going to start ringing.”

Dean and John watched Sam from the family room where they were watching a college football game on the TV. It seemed the young man was coming out of his shell from earlier with each little kid that came to the door. Dean listened to his brother talk to the newest arrivals with a smile as did John.

“Oh, Darth Va…der, huh? How old are you?”

“Five,” a little young voice answered.

“Wow, that big, huh?”

“My sister is a punkin’ see…” the little boy turned and pointed to his infant sister in a stroller dressed as a tiny orange pumpkin with a green stem hat to finish the costume off. She looked about seven months old and seemed very interested in all of the strange creatures and fairy princesses walking past her stroller.

“I see,” Sam answered with a smile.

Finally, Dean and John heard the door close a few minutes after eight as they each drank a cold beer having finished the college game on the TV and finding something else to watch on ESPN. Sam walked into the family room with an empty candy bowl. “So, the little vultures cleaned you out,” Dean commented. “Man, and you didn’t set anything aside,” he complained. “Geez, what a way to treat your bro…” his little tirade was ended abruptly by getting smacked in the side of his head with a miniature Hershey bar.

John chuckled, “You were saying?” Dean’s cheeks flushed slightly. Sam just stood there with an amused look on his face. Sam disappeared into the kitchen to put the bowl down and came back into the family room. He seemed to pace for a moment and then sat down looking at his family.

“Sammy? You okay?” Dean said sitting up from his lounging position. John clicked the TV off.

“What is it Sam?” John asked.

“I’m sss…sor…ry for to…night. I shouldn’t have lll…locked the door. I know you both worry.”

“It’s okay Sammy,” Dean countered quickly. “You can have your privacy. Dad and I talked and I guess we both have been a little … suffocating.” He relented.

Sam smiled. “A little?” Dean and John both smiled.

“Okay, a lot,” John conceded as he chimed in. “So, kiddo do you want to tell us what was wrong?”

“Stupid,” Sam replied as he stared at his hands.

“Hey,” John replied. “Don’t say that okay? If it matters to you … whatever it is,” he began. “Then it’s not stupid, and your brother and I certainly aren’t going to think it either.” Dean nodded in agreement.

“So what’s up Sammy?” Dean questioned. “Maybe Dad or me can fix it.” Sam shook his head sadly.

“Wish that you could,” he said simply. “It’s just…”

“What?” Dean’s eyes were serious as he leaned toward his brother that sat across from him.

“Jess,” came his shaky reply and that was all either of the older Winchesters needed to hear.

“Oh, Sammy man … I can’t believe I didn’t remember. It was two years ago today that I showed up and hauled you to Jerrico to look for dad. I climbed in your window on Halloween.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied. “Last time I sss…saw her alive. Next time she was …” John stood up and walked over to Sam and took a seat right next to him. He put a comforting arm around his son’s shoulders.

“It’s okay Sammy,” he comforted. “I know it’s hard … I do.” And both Sam and Dean knew their father was right … he did know and he understood this loss completely. Sam leaned into his father’s comfort and in that moment the months that John Winchester had been gone didn’t seem so important. He was here now and Sam let go of the little bit of anger he had kept silently to himself since his father returned. Sam allowed a slight smile to creep up at the edges of his mouth. Dean felt thankful for their father in that moment because he had been able to help Sam in a way he knew he could never truly understand his brother’s loss the way his father could and did. However, the family had an anniversary coming up that they were all to familiar with and they’d be together for the first time in a long time to get through it.

November 2, 2007

Sam walked through the lobby of Ivy Ridge having just finished his out patient rehab for the day and he had tomorrow, too. Today, his session had ended a few minutes early and he sat in the lobby waiting for his brother to pick him up. There Dad had agreed to work an hour over and Dean would have to get Sam.

Sam knew what today was and it was an all around horrible day and he knew that his Dad and brother knew it too, but they hadn’t said anything. Two years ago today you died Jess, Sam thought to himself and he stared at his hands as he fidgeted in his seat. And, Mom, it’s been so long. Twenty-four years ago you died for me, Sam lamented. He lost track of time while he was lost in his own thoughts until his brother’s voice and hand on his shoulder startled him out of his ruminations.

“Sammy?” Dean’s concerned eyes met with his brother’s distant ones. “I’ve been outside waiting for ten minutes. I had to park the car to come look for you.”

“Sorry,” he answered quickly.

“You okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, I was just lll…lost in thought.”

“Apparently kiddo.” Dean offered him a hand to stand and he took it. “So how did rehab go today?”

“Good.”

“Man, Sammy don’t talk all at once,” Dean joked with is kid brother at his complete lack of elaboration. “Define good.” Dean and Sam continued to walk out to the car in the parking lot.

“The same as usual Dean,” Sam complained. “PT with Mel, and speech with April.”

“No occupational?”

“Yes, I had to try a checkbook.” Dean glanced at his brother not completely understanding what he was trying to say.

“Try a checkbook?” Dean remembered that as part of his brother’s rehab he would be relearning certain life skills that his cognitive delays had affected.

“Write checks. Balance.” Sam had reverted to his fragmented speech and Dean knew he was frustrated. “But I can’t hold damn pen,” Sam hissed. “Dar…lene had to and I told her what to write. She made me use cal…cu…lator, but buttons ttt…too small.”

“Look Sammy I don’t have a clue how hard this is, but I see what you go through. I know this isn’t easy and that you want everything to be like it was, but things take time kiddo.”

“Hate that I nnn…not under…stand. I know I know how …” he paused. “But it not come.” Dean’s heart ached for his little brother. He looked at Sam and saw the same little brother he had always known. The same brother he grew up with and the same one he had shared the road with hunting not so long ago, but somehow all of it seemed a lifetime ago when he really thought about it. And, no matter how much Sam was his Sammy there were differences that he couldn’t ignore and unfortunately his little brother was beginning to notice his deficits more than he used to and it angered him.

“Sam,” Dean began. “Every rehab and study time at home helps you get better. I know the changes don’t seem like a lot to you or are too slow in happening, but believe me I was there when you were still fighting to come out of your coma completely,” Dean took a breath. “I see how much your hard work has paid off and continues to. You just gotta be patient man.” Sam ducked his head in acknowledgement. Dean was about to say something else when his cell phone rang. He saw the Caller ID and couldn’t ignore it, Dad.

“Hey Dad?” Dean answered as he and Sam stood by the Impala. “Yeah, I’m just getting Sammy from rehab we’re still at Ivy Ridge.” Sam stood listening to one side of the conversation. “Yeah, okay,” Dean’s voice sounded hesitant. “Suits? What for?” Sam ears perked up toward his brother. His mind wondering what was his father was talking about on the other end of the cell phone. “Yeah, Sammy and I both do. Okay, we’ll be home in twenty minutes or so. Okay, bye.”

“What does dad want?” Sam asked slowly.

“Beats the hell out of me,” Dean looked puzzled. “He wouldn’t say. He just asked if you and I had suits. I told him yeah. He said to meet him at home and to get cleaned up and put on our suits.”

“Why?” Sam looked as perplexed as his older brother.

“I just told you Sammy,” Dean chided. “I don’t know what he wants … he didn’t say.”

Both Winchester boys sat on the sectional couch in the family room as their father stood in front of them surveying them. John was clean and shaven and wearing something neither boy could readily remember ever seeing their father wear … a suit. Dean and Sam both wore dress pants and shirts with ties, and each wore a blazer. John wore black pants with a cobalt blue dress shirt and a tie with a black jacket.

“When did you get an outfit like that?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I kept it around for certain recon jobs … can’t very walk into government facility or hospital wearing jeans and flashing a badge, at least not always,” he said with a grin. “I could ask you boys the same thing.”

“Work related,” Dean said pulling on his tie. “So what are we in these monkey suits for?”

“We’re going out to dinner and I made reservations,” John commented. “Look, you boys know what today is, and so do I.” John replied. Both boys looked at each other and then back to their father. “I want us to go out as a family tonight and do something for the three of us. It’s a family dinner … it’s not much, but it’s better than a greasy spoon or eating here at home. I want to take my boys out for a nice dinner.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean answered first. He couldn’t deny the warm unfamiliar feeling in his gut. This moment was what he had wished for since confessing to Sam in Chicago. Sam looked at his father and his brother and could see the slow mending taking place in their relationship. There was still a lot of ground to be covered between Dean and their Dad, but tonight was a major move in the right direction.

“Yeah, Dad,” Sam answered with a smile.

“So, where we eatin’ at?” Dean asked. John smiled.

“I made us reservations at Houston’s.”

“You’re kidding, really?” Dean’s eyes got big. He had heard of that restaurant and their reputation preceded them when it came to their steak preparations. His mouth was watering just thinking about it.

“I’m not kidding,” John answered. “I thought a classy steak place would wet your appetite.”

“Oh, man, I got a T-Bone with my name on it and a big fat baked potato loaded with sour cream and butter. Mmm … Good.”

“Come on boys,” John urged. “Reservations are for 5:00.” John watched his boys walk out the front door ahead of him, and he watched his son’s and smiled. He felt completeness wash over him that he hadn’t felt since Mary passed.

Houston’s Restaurant

The food arrived and the table was filled with lively conversation. John noticed that as Dean talked to him and Sam was laughing about something his brother was saying that Dean was cutting Sammy’s steak for him. It was automatic and he never skipped a beat while talking, and John was fascinated that Dean’s apparent casual approach seemed to work because Sam either didn’t notice or didn’t care that his big brother was cutting his meat.

“So, dad how many days is the shop going to be closed for the holiday?” Dean asked. “I mean, Larry closing the shop for three days for us.” John smiled at the notion of spending a holiday with his son’s and actually observing it.

“Yeah, Dan is doing the same thing. We actually are getting off at 2:00 on the twenty-second. And, Thanksgiving is the following day. Hey, Sammy, you still have rehab on the twenty-second, right?”

“Yeah,” he answered casually.

“Hey Sammy, I can drop you off that day, but maybe Dad can pick you up since he gets off earlier than me. Can you dad?”

“No problem. What? Larry keeping you a full day?”

“Not exactly … he’s letting us go at 3:30, and it’d take me a while to get out to Elston to pick Sammy up, so…”

“Not a problem. You know Sam you’re about due for your monthly report at the center. Dr. Myers likes to meet with us near the end of the month to discuss your rehab and progress.”

“I know,” Sam commented. “I need ttt…to make an app…appoint…ment.”

“I can do that Sammy,” Dean replied. “It’s not a problem.”

“I can do it,” Sam countered. Dean caught his father’s eyes and understood the unspoken dialogue.

“Sure thing Sammy. Maybe try to get an appointment for the week before the holiday. I think 4:00 oughta be good. I can leave work early. Just do it on a rehab day Sammy, and that way you finish at 3:30 and then the meeting will be right after.” John nodded.

“Yeah, Dean and I will just drive together to get you and then we’ll meet with Dr. Myers, sound good?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” John smiled at his youngest son.

Dinner was relaxing and the conversation was jovial and tension free for a change. John was thankful for this quiet time. Today, wasn’t a happy day for any member of this family, but they were getting through it as a family, and that was all that counted.

Thanksgiving Day, 2007

“God, Dad,” Dean groused as his father stacked another container in his arms. “What did you get? It’s just three of us. You feedin’ the neighbors or something.” John chuckled. He had preordered a Thanksgiving day dinner from a local grocery store knowing full well there was no way he and his boys were going to pull off anything as intricate a turkey without food poisoning. He was thankful that the store had offered holiday pick-up hours until 11:30 AM, so he had been able to pick it up still warm and ready to be eaten.

“Hey, as much as you two boys can eat you’d think I was running a free kitchen for all of Jefferson City.”

“Ha-ha,” Dean replied sarcastically. “What’d you order anyway?”

“It’s Thanksgiving Dean,” John answered lightly. “I ordered the standards.” Dean could smell the hot turkey under his nose in a sealed tin-foil container.

“Is it a whole turkey?”

“Yeah, something they said would feed a family of four easily, so I figured it’d be enough, plus there are a lot of sides.”

“Smells damn good,” Dean commented his mouth watering.

“Where’s your brother?”

“He was setting the table the last time I saw him.”

“Well, come on the sooner we get the grub inside the sooner we can eat. I’m starved.”

“You are? I haven’t eaten at all today. I’m nearing malnourished.” John chuckled as he followed his son in through the open kitchen door.

Dean and John both carried in containers and bags placing them down on the counters. Sam turned to look at them just as he finished putting down some paper napkins. John and Dean looked at Sam’s handy work and smiled. “Looks good Sammy,” Dean praised.

“Your brother’s right Sammy. Nice job.” John smiled warmly at his youngest son.

The went about opening containers and John transferred the dinner rolls to a basket that Sam had set out, and filled some bowls with the side dishes leaving the empty Styrofoam containers discarded on the counter in a brown paper bag.

Finally, everything was ready and they all sat down. Dean started to reach for a roll. “What are you doing?” John asked casually.

“Huh? I’m getting a roll.” Dean answered looking at his father as if he were nuts because it was very obvious what he was doing.

“We should say grace.” John replied. Dean was at a loss for words. He stared at his father dumbstruck trying to process what he knew he had heard. John smiled at his eldest son clearly in shock. “You might want to close that mouth before a bug flies in.”

“Grace? Dad … when have we ever?” Dean finally found his voice.

“It just seems like the right thing to do Dean. I mean … we’re all here together, and we’re safe. We have a lot to be thankful this year; at least I know I do. Sam’s recovery and your pneumonia …” he suggested.

“You coming bbb…back,” Sam suggested with a lopsided grin. John smiled in return. He felt comforted by his youngest son’s response.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Dean replied. “But, who’s saying it? I don’t have the first clue.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while for me too,” John offered. “Hey, Sammy how about you say grace.” Sam felt a mixture of emotions. He was pleased his dad would ask him to and mortified that he was asked to all at the same time.

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean encouraged.

“But, it might ttt…take for…ever to say,” Sam spoke softly.

“We aren’t going anywhere kiddo,” John assured.

“The food will ggg…get cold,” Sam replied with an embarrassed smile.

“Just try Sam,” John coaxed. “That’s all we ask.”

“Dad’s right Sammy. Just try,” Dean smiled.

“Okay,” Sam sighed. He extended an upturned hand to each of his family members. Dean quirked up an eyebrow at his brother.

“What? We gotta hold hands?” Sam nodded. Dean rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh, just kill me now,” he groused. John merely chuckled and took Sam’s hand. Sam lowered his head and his brother and father followed suit.

Sam searched his mind for the words, and although his family wasn’t highly religious at least in terms of praying and church going he felt he had to thank the proper channels. He took a shaky breath. “Ggg…God,” he stammered with nerves and John gave his hand a gentle squeeze to reassure him. “We www…want ttt…to thank you for this past year. We’re thankful for Dean bbb…being out of the hos…pit…al and fff…feeling bbb…better. And it’s good that dad is back and here with us. I’m thankful that I’m getting bbb…better. I’m thankful for my …” he paused a second. “For my family and having us to…ghether. And, thank you for the fff…food. Amen.”

“Amen,” Dean and John replied in unison. Dean didn’t trust his voice to say moreright away as he fought the emotional tightness in his throat. John felt a hot sting in his eyes, and smiled.

“Well done Sammy,” John broke the silence. “And since you did such a fine job you get first dibs on the turkey. How much do you want?” Just stood up with a carving knife to cut off slices from the turkey. Sam pointed and John cut. “Is that enough?”

“Yes,” Sam held his plate up and his father put the meat down.

“You still like dark meat Dean?”

“You know it,” Dean chimed in as Sam busied himself by looking over the various side dishes Dean deftly cut his brother’s thick turkey slices into more manageable bites. He finished just as his father severed off a turkey leg and held it up on a serving fork to put on Dean’s plate.

Later that Night

The Winchester men all lounged around the TV watching sports on ESPN. Now, having cable was a treat and all three men seemed captivated by the 200 digital channels that lie at their fingertips. “I’m stuffed,” Dean complained.

“Well, if you hadn’t eaten like it was your last supper maybe you wouldn’t be ready to explode,” John’s voice was amused.

“I feel fine,” Sam answered with a combination smug amused look.

“Bite me Sammy,” Dean grumbled. “You eat like a girl.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Boys,” John’s tone dropping into parental warning.

“He started it,” Dean turned wide innocent eyes to his father.

“Uh-huh,” he said surveying his boys. “Well … I’m finishing it.”

Dean was about to give his father a wiseass rebuttal when the phone rang. “I’ll get it,” Dean said as he reached beside the couch to the end table for the phone. “Hello?”

John watched his son’s face and could see a fleeting moment of tension cross his face. “Yeah, it’s been a long time,” Dean said to the mystery caller. “Uh-huh, let me get him.” Dean pulled the phone down from his ear, and handed the phone to his father. John looked at his son confused, and whispered.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Joshua.” John’s face took on a serious look and now he understood why Dean had tensed up. It seemed their quiet family life was finally being invaded by the old familiar life of the Winchester family … hunting and the Supernatural world had finally found them and came calling again. Dean and Sam exchanged looks as John got up and carried the cordless phone into the kitchen.

John leaned against the kitchen counter holding the phone with one hand and scrubbing a hand across his face. “Joshua I don’t know that I can,” John replied to the speaker at the other end of the phone line. “I’ve got my boys and things have been quiet.”

“John, I know,” Joshua conceded on the other end of the line.

“No, you don’t know,” John’s voice lowered into a protective parental warning timbre. “Sam is still recovering and Dean was just in the hospital not long ago with pneumonia. I just …”

“It’s almost local John,” Joshua countered. “It’s in Tipton… you could be up and back in an hour or two. Look, I wouldn’t have called you, but you’re the closest. It’s a simple hunt John a pissed off poltergeist giving a family a problem.”

“No hunt is ever simple Joshua and you know that. And, the fact it’s in Tipton doesn’t matter. I have bigger concerns right now. I have my boys. I promised not to hunt.” John’s voice wasn’t wavering.

“Hey, take Dean with you … in and out.”

“I can’t take Dean. Look I don’t think…” John was interrupted by Dean’s voice in the kitchen.

“Dad, Tipton isn’t far,” Dean suggested. “Do it. Sammy and I understand. I mean … if someone needs help.”

“Dean how long have you been listening?”

“I only caught the last couple minutes. What is it anyway? Ghost or something.”

“It’s a poltergeist giving a family trouble.” John answered.

“Then help them.” Dean’s face was unreadable and John didn’t know how to take it.

“Joshua I gotta call you back. I need to talk to my son’s.” John hung up with his friend. “Dean?”

“Dad if someone needs help then go. It’s not like Tipton is the other side of the world. It’s an hour maybe,” Dean suggested.

“But, I promised. Someone else could do this.”

“No one is better at poltergeists than you dad.” John looked at his son thoughtfully and then frowned.

“Where’s your brother?”

“On the couch still,” Dean answered. “I told him I wanted to talk to you.” He studied his father. “Only thing is you shouldn’t handle a poltergeist alone. Is Joshua going to be able to come?”

“No, it would be a solo job.”

“I could help,” Dean suggested and then looked pensive. “But, we can’t leave Sammy alone.”

“Why nnn…not?” Sam complained from the entrance to the kitchen. Dean shook his head slightly to himself. He had been caught. “I could go.” Sam suddenly suggested.

“No way Sammy!” Dean responded quickly.

“I’m as ggg…good as you are,” Sam raised his voice. “I ddd…don’t need to ttt…talk to a pol…ter…geist to kill it.”

“Sammy it wouldn’t be safe,” Dean countered. “You can’t run and you know it.”

“Boys stop bickering. Sam your brother’s right you can’t come on the hunt. You could get hurt.”

“So… you and Dean ccc…could too.” Sam reasoned.

“Yeah,” Dean chimed in. “But, it’s different with you Sammy. There’s no way you’re going.” John felt the stress building and this wasn’t going to end amicably and he knew it.

“Sam…” John began.

“No!” Sam shouted. “You and Dean thh…think I’m dis…abled, don’t you? Dean says I ccc…can’t run. I talk dumb ttt…too. You think I can’t hhh…hunt.”

“Sammy we didn’t say that kiddo,” John tried to smooth things over. “You’re not disabled son … you’re healing from a near fatal head injury. You need time to mend.”

“Sammy…” Dean stepped forward and Sam took a step back.

“No! I ddd…don’t care. You go,” he shouted. “I hate hun…ting always did. You and Dad go.”

“We can’t leave you alone Sam,” Dean interjected.

“I’m an adult,” Sam answered with anger. “I can bbb…be alone.”

“No you can’t,” Dean said simply.

“Up yours,” Sam shouted.

“Sam,” John tried to calm his son.

“I can bbb…be alone. I can.”

“No you can’t,” Dean replied again.

“Why not?” Sam barked. Dean didn’t say anything he turned anxious eyes to his father, but John had the same look. “Answer me!”

“Because…” Dean supplied without further elaboration.

“Not an an…swer,” Sam replied. “It’s bbb…be…cause I’m different now, right? Right!” Sam bellowed.

“Yes!” Dean shouted in return and then he desperately wanted to pull the response back into his mouth. He wanted to take it all back. He watched Sam’s eyes lose their angered intensity and mist up almost immediately. Sam looked simply stricken as his brother and father looked on. John and Dean could see the unshed tears welling in Sam’s eyes as the boy turned and left without another word. Both men stood stock still, and the next noise they heard was the slamming of Sam’s bedroom door. Dean dropped his head in shame and self loathing.

“God, what did I do?”

“It just slipped Dean. It’ll be okay,” John tried to console his son. Dean’s head jerked up.

“What are you nuts? He’s never going to forgive me. I basically just admitted to him that I think there’s something wrong with him … that he’s different since the head injury. But Dad I just can’t have him on a hunt it’s too dangerous,” Dean relented. “If something happened to him…”

“I know Dean,” John replied. “I feel the same way. There isn’t anyway that I would let Sam come on a hunt right now. If he had all of his mobility back and his hand fine motor skills weren’t still an issue, maybe…” he hedged. “But, even then I don’t think I’d feel comfortable.”

“Me either,” Dean agreed. And there it was … both men loved the youngest member of their family intensely, but fundamentally no matter what way to go and it’ll get better statements or nice job on rehab comments they said to Sam they both without having ever really admitted to themselves had accepted that Sammy would probably never be the person he was before he collapsed. And, no matter what time passed he still had issues that neither of them felt comfortable leaving him alone with. Both men feared the seizure disorder. And, despite Sam not having a single break through seizure since taking his medication there was always the chance. And, the possibility of other seizure disorders always loomed over their heads. “So … how long do we leave him alone in his room?”

“He’s pretty fragile right now,” John replied. “But … I don’t like him getting that worked up.”

“Yeah,” Dean knew what his father was saying. He too was worried that Sam’s emotional states sometimes contributed to new on set seizures and had a tendency to amplify them.

“Maybe we can give him ten minutes and then check on him?” John suggested.

“Yeah,” Dean conceded. “That sounds good.” John saw the lost and stricken look on Dean’s face and smiled warmly.

“Dean, son … he knows you didn’t say that to hurt him. He’ll be fine. And, if it helps I’ll back you up. I mean … I have the same apprehensions that you do.” Dean offered his father a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Ten Minutes Later

John walked with Dean down the hall to Sam’s door, and couldn’t help, but smile at the paperclip Dean was opening up. “Paperclip? You think we’re going to need that?” John whispered with an amused voice despite the situation.

Dean looked at his father deadpanned, “What? You think he’s going to open the door willingly,” Dean replied with a hint of sarcasm. “And, I guess it’s better than kicking it in, huh?”

“You have a point, but we should at least knock,” he suggested. John raised a hand and knocked gently. “Sammy? It’s dad and Dean. Can we talk to you?” There was no reply, no noise, and the door remained locked.

“See I told you,” Dean said quietly under his breath. “Sammy,” Dean spoke. “I’m going to pick the lock if you don’t open the door. I’m sorry that I said what I said Sam. Just let me explain.” There was still no response. “Okay we’re coming in,” he warned. Dean opened the door with ease.

The room was empty and the window was open with the screen removed. Sam was gone.

“Fuck!” Dean hissed as he quickly turned on his heel. John took in the situation quickly and followed his son.

“Dean, just relax,” John tried to calm his son. “He couldn’t have gotten that far.”

“It’s after 10:00 Dad … it’s dark and cold out there. Jesus! He could be anywhere. This is Sam we’re talking about.”

“Okay, look we’re not going to find him if we’re both worked up. You need to calm down Dean.” His oldest child drew in a deep breath. “Good,” John replied. “Now, we should look around the outside of the house first … I know the chances are small, but…”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “But, then we gotta hit the streets dad. It’s supposed to get below zero tonight because of that cold front and they said we could really get hammered with snow. Sammy didn’t take a jacket. Dammit, he left his ID, his med-alert bracelet and cell phone, shit!”

The Winchester House 1:00 AM

John and Dean had driven around looking for Sam for nearly three hours with no luck, and now they were both feeling the effects of raw panic. “I’m going to call the police,” John said as they walked back into the house from their search. It had started to snow around 10:30 and roads were becoming much more hazardous. They had experienced some white out conditions while driving around which made the search even more difficult and dangerous.

“Dad, it’s freezing out we gotta find Sammy,” John could hear the desperation in his oldest child’s voice.

“We need the police Dean. Sammy isn’t stupid, okay? He knows to get out of this weather.”

“But…” Dean began and hesitated. And John didn’t need to hear anymore because his mind had thought up the same possible nightmare scenario … what if Sam had had a seizure and was unconscious out in this weather. He would die from hypothermia before they could find him and with the speed of the snowfall and accumulation it was likely that Sam would be covered up.

“I know,” was all John said and Dean nodded. “We’ll get him home Dean.” John dialed the local police station’s number. “Yes, I’d like to report my son missing,” John began.

“How long has he been missing?”

“Since 10:00 tonight, but with this weather and he left without a jacket or his ID.”

“How old is he?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Sir, unless he’s a minor we can’t officially declare him missing or endangered for seventy-two hours.”

“No, my son needs to be found.”

“Sir, kids his age almost always show up sooner or later.” The police officer answered casually. “Unless he has a health condition that could have his life in danger or he’s impaired in some way…” John cut him off.

“He has a seizure disorder. He could be out there unconscious somewhere for all I know dying from hypothermia.”

“Seizures? Is he on medication?”

“Yes.”

“Has he had his medication today?”

“Yes, but that’s beside the point. The medication doesn’t guarantee he won’t have one. And, he was upset when he left and that could trigger an episode.”

“Upset? Family dispute?”

“It was a misunderstanding of something that was said. He was upset.”

“Sir, I’m sure he’s just blowing off steam.”

“Look he has a medical condition, so the department has to look for him.”

“Sir, I understand you’re worried … I’m a parent myself, but your son is over the age of consent.” The officer hesitated. “Is he mentally impaired?”

“Is he mentally impaired?” John echoed what the officer said and Dean turned wide eyes to his father. “He,” John’s mouth suddenly felt like it was filled with cotton. “He has some cognitive delay issues from a head injury he received a year ago.”

“Cognitive delays? So you’re saying he is challenged?” The officer was clarifying.

“Challenged, no!” John hissed. “My son isn’t handicapped, but …” he paused. “Look he can’t be unsupervised. And, why we are wasting time my son could be hurt or dying.”

“Fine,” the officer conceded. “I’ll put out an APB for your son. What was he wearing? How tall is he? What is his hair color and length?”

“He was wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt…”

“What color shirt?”

“Shit,” John hissed. “Dean what color of shirt was your brother wearing?”

“Damn dad … I’m not sure.”

“We don’t know.”

“Okay,” the officer replied. “How tall is he?”

“6’4” and he has short brown shaggy hair with long bangs.

“Okay, I’m going to try to send an officer by to get a picture, but the weather is playing havoc with our ability to get anywhere quickly. If an officer can’t make it to your home I will send out his description to all of our car computers, and the units that are out currently will be on the look-out for your son.”

“Thank you. What do we need to do?”

“Stay put … I know it’s hard, but in case he comes home or something you should be home. And, the roads are getting pretty bad. The transportation department didn’t expect it to hit so fast and the salt trucks aren’t able to keep up with the snowfall.”

“Fine,” John groused. “But, please call or send a unit if you have any updates.”

John hung up the phone and sat down dropping his face into his hands. “They are putting an APB out for your brother. The probably won’t be able to make it here for a picture the way it sounded, but they have put his description out on all of the car computers. They’ll find him Dean.”

“He’s gotta be okay Dad.” Dean replied as he sat heavily on the couch next to his father. John reached out an arm and patted Dean’s leg with a hand.

“We’ll get Sammy back.”

The Winchester House, 7:30 AM, Saturday Morning

John cast tired eyes to Dean’s dozing form next to him on the couch. His oldest child had been sleeping in small catnaps all night while they waited for word. He had called the station for an update, but they had no leads on Sam when he spoke to them last around 5:00 AM. Sam had been missing for over nine hours now, and John felt half sick with worry. There was a knock at the front door and John rose quickly. Dean stirred next to him. “What is it?”

“Someone’s at the door,” John answered as he hurried to answer it. He opened the door to reveal a police officer standing there.

“Mr. Winchester, I’m Officer Delane.”

“Hello, have you found my son?” John wanted to get straight to business.

“Sir,” the man hesitated and John felt his stomach fall. Dean stood next to his father.

“Where’s my brother? Did you find him or not?”

“Dean … let the officer speak,” John chastised. Dean nodded.

“Sir, we aren’t sure, but…” The officer was young and John knew he was having trouble saying what needed to be said.

“But, what?”

“There was an accident last night. A driver lost visibility during a white out and wasn’t able to stop as someone walked out into the street. The car struck the individual. It was a young man matching your son’s general description and had he no ID with him.”

“My god,” John replied. “How bad was he hurt?”

“Sir, we aren’t even sure it was your son. We need you to identify the body in order to be certain.”

The words hadn’t sunk in immediately with Dean or John and the oldest Winchester replied quickly, “just take me to the hospital. I need to know if my son is okay.”

“Sir, he isn’t at the hospital,” the officer reasserted himself. “I need you to identify the body.”

“The body,” the words fell out of John’s mouth like rocks.

“Yes, sir.” The officer replied. “As I said we aren’t even sure it is your son, but we need to be sure. The young man that was hit was pronounced at the scene. I’ve been instructed to take you to the County Morgue. Dean was silent and John turned to him.

“Dean it’s not your brother okay,” he tried to reassure, but even he wasn’t sure. “Sammy’s alive.” He said out loud trying to console his son and himself.

The officer took both John and Dean to the morgue. John and Dean both sat in a small waiting area inside the morgue. John’s eyes were fixated on the frosted glass swinging doors near the end of the hall. The words: Storage in large black lettering seemed imposing. He knew what was behind those swinging doors. He visualized the wall of small silver refrigerator doors with rolling trays and each rolling tray bed would hold a body. And, he silently prayed that none of them held his baby boy.

“Mr. Winchester,” a morgue attendant came out.

“I’m Steve, and I’m here to take you back to the identification area.”

“All right,” John stood on shaky legs and Dean followed suit. “No,” John said gently putting his hand out to stop Dean.

“But, Dad … I have…”

“No, Dean. If…” John’s voice trailed off and he took a breath. “I don’t want you to see… if it’s … I don’t want you to carry that last image…” John couldn’t finish his sentence. He just couldn’t tell his firstborn that he quite simply didn’t want his son exposed to that assaulting image of Sammy on a cold metal slab if this body was his baby son’s. Dean relented and understood.

“I’ll be here,” Dean replied with a shaky voice. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears. John saw his son’s wet glassy eyes and knew Dean was on the razor’s edge. He reached out and pulled his son into a quick embrace, and patted him on the back as they separated. Dean gave a tight nod and sat down to wait.

John followed the attendant through those horrible swinging doors. “The identification room is right here,” Steve showed John to the door and John immediately saw the rolling metal gurney in the room. There was a covered body clearly beneath a white sterile crisp sheet. The room was cold and empty except for the gurney and the smell of death filled the room. “Mr. Winchester,” Steve began. “The entire trauma was centralized to blunt force trauma to the chest … internal injuries, so…” he looked at John and could see the man’s pale features. “There was no facial or head trauma.” Steve didn’t know what else to say, but he felt by telling John that there was no facial trauma at least the man didn’t have to prepare himself for some mangled mess. “Are you ready?” Steve stepped over to the sheet facing John from the opposite side of the gurney.

John looked down at the sheet … every aspect of the body beneath was covered, but for a small bit exposing some hair. John could see shaggy chestnut brown hair peeking out from under the sheet and he felt a cold hollowness fill his chest. His eyes lifted to the morgue attendants.

“Yes, I'm ready,” his voice shaking. The sheet was pulled back exposing the head and face of the unidentified young man and John looked down. He closed his eyes and silent tears slipped down his face. Steve looked up at John.

“Is this your son?”

“Is this your son?” Steve asked as he watched John close his eyes and saw the silent tears. “Mr. Winchester?” Steve urged. John opened his eyes to answer him.

Dean sat silently ringing his hands obsessively as his emotions peaked. His mind silently making deals with God that he’d make things right with Sammy. He’d explain he hadn’t meant to hurt him. He heard the swinging doors creak and he looked up and saw his father coming down the long hallway. He stood immediately. John met his son’s eyes and Dean saw the drying tracks of tears and he felt a violent shudder cascade through his body. “Dad?” His voice caught in his throat. John walked up to Dean and pulled him into a sudden and hard hug.

“It wasn’t Sammy,” John’s voice gruff as he held his child against his chest. Dean squeezed his father tightly.

“It wasn’t Sammy,” Dean repeated his father’s words. John felt his son tremble in his arms and squeezed tighter.

“No,” John pulled back new tears filling his eyes.

The Winchester House, 10:00 AM

John and Dean sat silently in the kitchen each with a hot cup of coffee in front of them. The morning’s events had drained them dry. The morgue would be an experience they would carry with them the rest of their days. The kitchen phone rang and John leapt up from his seat.

“Hello?”

“Yes. You did! Oh thank God,” John let out a calming breath. “Is he okay?” Dean stared at his father hanging on every word. “Thank you,” John replied to the caller on the other end and hung up.

“They found Sammy?” Dean’s words rushed forward. “He’s okay?”

“Sammy’s fine. He took shelter at the bus station to wait out the weather,” John spoke evenly. “He’s okay. They are bringing him home.”

“The bus station … on the other side of town!” Dean barked.

“Apparently,” John conceded. Neither man had thought Sam would go that far, and they would never underestimate the kid again.

“If he’s in one piece I’m going to kill him,” Dean hissed. “Damn I think I aged ten years from this little adventure of his.”

“Now, Dean,” John replied. “I’m upset too, but we gotta tread lightly with your brother. We don’t need him running off again.”

“Yeah, well … that isn’t gonna happen again,” Dean asserted. “If we gotta put alarms on the windows or whatever.”

“Let’s not turn it into a jail Dean. Things are going to work out. He’s just having a difficult time. I think we have to put ourselves in his shoes. He knows things are different since his head injury and I think he’s realizing that he may never get back everything he lost.” Dean nodded.

Twenty Minutes Later

A police officer brought Sam to the front door. “Lose something,” he said lightly. “He’s not much of a talker.” John smiled.

“Sammy? You okay?” he asked his son. Sam simply nodded. John reached out and pulled his youngest child tightly to his chest and held him for a long moment. Dean stood behind his father watching the embrace. He also used the time to look his brother over for any injuries. “Thank you for bringing my son home.” John said as he released Sam from his arms.

“No problem,” he answered. “I spoke with the bus station clerk and she said he never asked about buses or anything. He just went in to get away from the storm and then the snow drifted and the station sort of had to be dug out.”

John extended his hand to the police officer. “Thanks again.” He nodded and left.

John closed the door and turned his eyes to Sam. His son stared at the ground and John noted a small shiver work its way through him. He was about to ask Dean to get something warm for Sam, but Dean was too quick for him. “I’m on it,” he left the room quickly.

“Here Sammy sit down,” he reached out and touched his son and felt the slight chill in the skin of his exposed arms. Sam pulled back slightly retreating from his father’s touch. “Sam?” John encouraged. Dean emerged with a sweatshirt for his brother.

“Sammy, put this on over your t-shirt,” Dean instructed and Sam complied. Dean felt conflicted and guilty. But, his need to touch Sam won out. He reached down and put a hand on Sam’s unruly mop of hair. Sam turned his face up to meet his brother’s. “The hell with it,” Dean mumbled and bent down pulling his brother into an awkward embrace as he stooped and Sam sat. “Don’t do that again kiddo,” Dean mumbled into his brother’s shoulder before he pulled away from Sam.

“Sam,” John began. “You had your brother and I worried sick. We drove around for three hours looking for you and then we had to call the police.” Sam sat silent not meeting the eyes of his family. “Sammy do you understand that they took us to the morgue this morning to identify a body they thought could be you?” Sam’s head jerked up and he looked at his father.

“Sorry … I didn’t mmm…mean to stay gone. I was mmm…mad. I needed to ggg…get some air. But the sss…snow. The mor…gue?”

“Yes Sam the morgue and it’s an experience I never want to go through again.” John answered as he looked at his watch. “Dean would you go get your brother’s medication he hasn’t had a pill yet and he’s overdue.”

“Yeah,” Dean jumped up and went down the hall to the bathroom where Sam kept his seizure medication. He came back with a pill and a Dixie cup filled with water. “Here.” Sam took it without question or complaint.

“Sam,” John asked with intense eyes. “Were there any seizures last night?”

“No,” he answered quietly. There was a long moment of silence. “I don’t want to be diff…erent,” Sam’s sad eyes looked from his father to his brother. “People think I’m retarded,” his voice shook. “Police talked to me like I’m five. Cus…tomers at the li…library treat me like I’m special and nnn…not in a good way. People treat me like I’m a tard.”

“Oh, Sammy … why didn’t you say something? You know you can talk to me and Dean about anything.” Sam just looked at his family.

“Am I?” His voice broke and silent tears streaked down his cheeks. Dean felt his heart shatter at the sight of his little brother.

“No,” John consoled. “Sam you had a horrible head injury and you’re healing. You have come so far Sammy. Give yourself time.” John soothed.

“But even you and Dean thh…think I’m diff…erent. You won’t lll…leave me alone to go on a hhh…hunt. You won’t lll…let me hunt.”

“Sam,” John replied. “Your brother and I are just worried about your seizures and we don’t like you to be alone and we can’t risk you getting hurt on a hunt.”

“Dad’s right Sammy. We just worry,” Dean replied. “I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I’m sorry … I was an ass.”

Sam nodded at his brother to indicate he accepted the apology. He looked at his brother and father. “I was alone last night … all night. I’m fine. I’m not a kid.”

“I know you’re not Sammy.” John agreed. “It’s just you’re still healing,” he offered. “You can’t protect yourself if something were to attack.”

“Attack?” Sam looked at his father as if he were nuts. “House surr…surrounded with salt … pro…tection amulets buried outside and hung inside. No…thing will get in.”

“Yeah, well, some things don’t seem to be phased by certain stuff,” Dean chimed in.

“The demon,” Sam offered. “He hasn’t come. He won’t. Please, people need your help. You and Dad go tonight and hhh…help that family… up and back same night.”

“Sam,” Dean began.

“No, Dean,” John interrupted. “Let’s try it okay? If Sam thinks he’s ready to be left alone for a little bit … let’s try it.” Sam turned expectant eyes to his brother.

“Dad,” Dean’s tone was one of confusion and concern.

“Sammy, do you mind if I talk to your brother alone for a minute?” Sam shook his head. “We’re just going to the kitchen. We’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay.”

Sam sat in his room surfing the net on his laptop waiting for his dad and brother to finish preparations for the hunt. He turned when he heard a knock on his open door. “Mind if I come in?” Dean asked from the door.

“No,” Sam answered. “You and dad rrr…ready to go?”

“Almost,” Dean was hedging. “Um, Sammy … I wanted to talk to you about…”

“It’s okay,” Sam replied cutting his brother off.

“No, it’s not,” Dean’s eyes were upset. “What I said in the kitchen last night … I’m so sorry Sammy. I don’t want you to think that I think there’s something wrong with you. I just worry and …” Dean dropped his eyes from his brother. It was still strange for him to be so emotionally open with his little brother, but things had changed and they called for Dean Winchester to change, as well. “Sammy I couldn’t handle it if you got hurt or something happened and I wasn’t there for you. That’s why I don’t like you alone.”

“I know,” Sam’s eyes were sad as he stood from his desk and sat down on his bed. “Dean I don’t www…want ttt..to be like this,” Sam’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “People treat mmm…me diff…erent and I hate it.”

“Sam,” Dean’s voice was hesitant. “Everyday you make some kind of improvement and you’re doing your rehab. Maybe some things won’t come back 100 percent, but we’re not going to ever give up trying to get you there.”

“I know you’ve given up a lot fff…for me …” Dean cut his brother off.

“We’re not having that conversation again little brother,” Dean replied. “I’ve told you before that I haven’t given up anything. Anything I’ve done or will do is because you’re my brother, okay? And, you’d do it for me,” Dean assured. “I just want to make sure we’re okay,” Dean started. “When you were missing all I could think about was what if something happened to you and it was my fault you left. Nice job with the window by the way,” Dean said with a small grin. “But, you try that stunt again … gimp or not I will kick your ass.” Sam laughed out loud and was secretly elated that his brother had made the joke because to Sam it meant that Dean was being Dean and in that moment there was no dark shadow of the head injury or its long term repercussions looming over them and his older brother was treating him as an equal with that good natured jab at his physical status.

“Sss…sorry I made you and dad worry. And about the mor…gue…”

“Don’t Sammy,” Dean replied. “I just want to forget that ever happened, okay? I don’t even want to think about it. You’re here and safe and that works for me.”

“Okay.”

“Dean!” John called from the kitchen.

“I better go see what dad wants,” Dean suggested. “He’s probably just about ready to leave.”

“Are you ex…cited?”

“It’s just a job Sammy,” Dean answered.

“You miss it … don’t you?” Dean smiled and decided not to lie to his brother. Sam could read him to well anyway.

“Yeah, sometimes … I guess, but I’m okay with not doing it,” he quickly asserted not wanting Sam to get the wrong idea and feel guilty about anything.

“You and dad bbb…be care…ful.” Sam replied not addressing the issue any further of his brother returning to the hunt after a year.

“We will.”

“Dean!” John called a second time.

“Better go see what the old man wants before he blows a gasket.” Sam smiled. The youngest Winchester was happy to see his brother and father bonding again, although he knew that Dean was still apprehensive about their father leaving Sam could see that slowly each day Dean was letting some of his walls down around their father. Sam knew the turning point was when John had been there for Dean in the hospital during his bout with pneumonia. Sam was just happy to see some of that glint back in his brother’s eyes and tonight he saw a look of excitement in his brother’s face that only a hunt could put there. Sam got up from his bed and headed for the kithchen.

Dean and John prepared to leave for the hunt. John had called Joshua back and had said he and Dean would help the family in Tipton, but they had to finish and be back tonight. They had agreed to allow Sam to stay home alone, but he had to promise to stay inside and they would check in with him. Sam walked his Dad and brother to the door. It was early evening and they planned to be back no later than 9:00. “Remember keep the door locked Sammy, and if you have any trouble…” Dean’s voice was anxious. Both Dean and John had their concerns, but they needed to show Sam that they did believe in him, and they also wanted to help a family in obvious need of help.

“I knn…know,” Sam rolled his eyes. “I call you and Dad…”

“And, if you don’t feel well or you have a seizure or something,” Dean countered.

“Call 911, I knn…know Dean. Not stupid.”

“I know you’re not,” Dean replied.

“You sure you’re okay with your brother and me leaving Sammy?” John asked.

“I’ll be fff…fine dad. Go.”

One Week Later

The hunt had gone off without a hitch and both men were reminded of the thrill of the hunt. They had been excited with the adrenalin of the hunt, but eager to return to Sam at home. They had called him frequently eliciting complaints from him, but everything had been fine. John and Dean both contemplated taking occasional jobs that were nearby, but for right now they’d stay close to home, and not make hunting a habit. They both had jobs, rent and bills to pay. And, Sammy still had his rehab.

Christmas was only three weeks away and it would be the first they spent together as a family in years. John had come home from work one afternoon with an artificial tree he purchased at a store across the street from the garage he worked at and his boys had seemed surprised. Dean had actually bought some discount ornaments for it and some tinsel. He even brought back a yellow star that lit up for the top.

“You boys want to grab a bite to eat at the McFulley’s Diner?” John called out down the hall. Dean had been home from work about an hour and he knew his boys would be hungry.

“Yeah, sounds good. Give me ten minutes,’ Dean called out from his room. John waited in the kitchen. He was tired. It had been a long day at the shop. He rubbed his jaw absently. It ached and had been aching on and off most of the day at work. Probably going to have to see the damn dentist, he complained silently in his head. He was sure he had pulled something in his left arm and shoulder today too … it was tense and ached. He worked it up and down like a bird wing. Getting older sucks, he thought to himself. Dean walked into the kitchen as John finished his shoulder stretch.

“Trying to fly,” Dean commented with a smile.

“You’re a real comedian, huh?” John replied. “You just wait until you’re my age Dean. Things will ache you didn’t even know you had.”

“You’re not ancient dad, geez,” Dean countered. “Come on Sammy!”

“Coming!”

“Dean, do we have any antacids around here?”

“Huh?” Dean answered distractedly. “Uh, yeah, the cabinet by the fridge … I think there are some Tums in there. Stomach bothering you?”

“A little,” he paused. “I just think I need to eat. I wasn’t really in the mood for lunch today.”

“Yeah,” Dean answered.

The diner wasn’t too crowded for 5:00 on a Thursday. The Winchesters talked and Dean and Sam tore into their food. John had poked at his food. “You okay Dad? You haven’t touched your food.” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I’m good. Upset stomach. A couple of the guys have had the flu and cold’s and I think I may have caught a bug. It’ll pass.”

“Get a doggie bag,” Sam commented. “Maybe, you’ll want it later,” he suggested.

“Yeah, good idea Sammy.” John smiled.

Later that Evening

John walked into the kitchen to get a coffee. Dean and Sam were lounged on the couch watching the movie Predator on the Sci-Fi channel. He grabbed a clean mug from the dish drying rack. He was trying to hurry so he could get back to the movie while commercials were playing. He turned to walk to the coffee pot as a sharp pain lanced through his chest. He grunted as he raised his free hand to massage his chest. “Damn,” he whispered to himself as he leaned against the counter. The pain was gone as quickly as it had hit. He straightened up and started for the coffee pot again, but this time the pain returned more powerful than the last wave and he staggered. The ceramic coffee mug slipped from his unfeeling fingers and hit the hard kitchen floor shattering. John slowly fell to his knees clutching his chest. Oh God, not like this … not with my boys here, his mind repeated the litany of words over and over.

“Dad?” Dean’s voice was casual as he walked toward the kitchen. “You drop something?” Dean walked in and saw his father on his knees. His skin was pale and sweat beaded on his face. “Dad!” He yelled sliding to his knees at his father’s side.

“Dean,” John forced out through the pain. John pitched forward and Dean caught him easily lowering him to the kitchen floor to lie on his back. “Feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest,” John panted as his face twisted in pain.

“Jesus, Dad!” Dean unbuttoned the top of his father’s flannel shirt quickly. He could feel his father’s skin beneath his touch it was cold and clammy. “Hang on,” Dean grabbed the phone dialing 911. “Sammy! Come here!”

“911 what’s your emergency?”

“My father,” Dean began as he felt the panic rise. Sam had come into the kitchen and immediately went to his father’s side. “I think he’s having a heart attack.”

“Is he breathing? Have you loosened the clothing around his neck?”

“Yes, please, just hurry!”

“EMS is on the way. Your address is showing as 2440 Willow Bend Ave., is this correct?”

“Yes, please hurry.” Dean knew there was a firehouse with paramedics nearby and he all ready heard the sirens. I hear them.”

“Okay, I’ll let you off the line.” Sam kept talking to his father as John continued to pant and clutch at his chest.

“It’s okay Sammy,” John forced out. “Don’t you boys worry.”

“Dad, just be quiet okay. Sammy go let the paramedics in. I can hear the sirens.”

Capitol Region Medical Center’s Emergency Room

Dean and Sam sat side by side waiting to hear about their father. The paramedics had moved so quickly starting an IV and hooking their dad up to various portable monitors for transport to the hospital that it had all been a blur. They were instructed to come in their own car because they needed room to work in the ambulance. Dean and Sam had hit traffic and the ambulance had all ready arrived with John ten minutes prior. All Dean knew was that they were told their father was in a trauma room and they would be given news when they had some.

John Winchester was in and out of consciousness and the physical pain was the worst he could recall ever experiencing. “Mr. Winchester? I’m Dr. Jay. I need you to rate your pain from 1 to 10.” The doctor had been asking questions and talking to him non stop since they had rolled him into the ER.

John grunted in pain. “10 … Christ it feels like a house fell on my chest.” The doctor nodded as he consulted John’s EKG.

“Mr. Winchester…”

“Call me John.”

“Okay, John,” the doctor replied. “You’re showing ST elevations with T wave inversions,” The doctor continued to say a few more things, but John’s attention was waxing and waning.

“English, Doc,” John grimaced in pain.

“You’re having a heart attack,” the doctor answered flatly.

“Really?” John tried for a moment of humor and surprise. “I hadn’t figured that out. Look my boys…” A new wave of pain lanced through his chest and he gasped.

“John don’t worry about your son’s right now. I’m sure they’re out in the waiting room. Let’s get you stabilized first.” John grunted again and clutched at his chest frantically for a brief moment and his head suddenly lulled to the side as his heart monitor wailed. “Sonofabitch,” the doctor hissed. “He coded. Start compressions.” A nurse started compressions on John while another placed an ambu-bag over his face to begin ventilating him. “Hold compressions,” the doctor spoke. He looked at the monitor. “He’s asystole. Push a high dose epi. Resume compressions.”

“Come on John work with me here,” the doctor spoke to his patient. “Hold compressions.”

“He’s in VF,” a nurse called out.

“Okay, gotta shock him,” Dr. Jay replied. He grabbed the defibrillator. “Charge to 360.” The doctor placed the defib paddles against John’s chest. “Clear!” And, the shock was delivered to John’s chest and his body arched violently off the gurney.

“Still in VF,” a nurse called out again.

“Resume compressions. Give him an amp of Lidocaine.” Dr. Jay instructed. “Come on John think about your kids. Fight dammit! Hold compressions.”

“Still VF.”

“Okay, charge the paddles to 450. Clear!” He delivered a second shock to John’s chest.

“No conversion. Still VF.”

“All right, get me a cardiac needle and an amp of epi.” The doctor took the large needle and drew up the epi. He palpated John’s chest near his sternum and drove the needle straight into his heart and injected the epi. He fisted his hand and gave a hard thump on John’s chest trying to stimulate his heart. “Resume compressions.”

The team struggled to save John’s life. “What’s his down time?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Okay, continue compressions. Get me an ET tube. I need to intubate him, now.” Dr. Jay quickly inserted the breathing tube. “Okay hyperventilate him. He’s looking a little cyanotic.”

The room was working at a fever pitch. Everyone had a duty and they were doing it. “Hold compressions.”

“Still VF.”

“Charge to 500,” he yelled as he placed the paddles against John for a third time and delivered the shock. as John’s chest convulsed upward with the electrical current.

“He converted,” a nurse yelled out. “We got him back. Pulse thready.”

Another nurse came running in with John’s blood work results and the doctor looked at them and knew based on what he was all ready seeing with earlier exams and the monitors coupled with John’s other symptoms he was in bad shape. John’s blood work showed evidence of cardiac enzymes confirming the heart attack on paper and the doctor shook his head. “Allison,” Dr. Jay called out. “Look I gotta talk to the family and get permission for a clot buster before he codes again and we don’t get him back. Get the med ready. This guy is losing heart muscle as we speak. If we don’t hurry there won’t be a heart that can be saved.” The nurse nodded.

Dr. Jay ran out to the waiting room. “Family for John Winchester?”

“That’s our Dad,” Dean answered quickly.

“Hi, look I know you have a lot of questions, but I have to be quick. I need you to sign this consent for a clot buster. Your father is having a massive heart attack and I believe that without a clot buster he will die.” He looked at both young men and saw the fear. “Your dad will die without the clot buster medication, but there are risks …” he began. “There is risk of stroke, and bleeding into the brain among others. And, right now he is losing heart muscle. And, my goal is to preserve as much as possible.”

“You’re saying he will die if we don’t use this stuff, but, he could still die from the drug?” Dean’s voice shook.

“Yes, unfortunately. But, there isn’t much option at this point. We will monitor him closely for any adverse effects from the medication,” the doctor answered. “Your father’s heart has all ready stopped once. If it happens again I don’t think we’re going to get him back.” Dean was at a loss for words. His father’s heart had actually stopped beating once. He signed the consent form in a blur and the doctor was gone yelling over his shoulder that when he had news he’d tell them. Dean and Sam sat back down both silent.

Dean and Sam sat side by side waiting and watching the clock. There had been a long stretch of silence between the two brothers. Dean’s mind was reeling from the events of tonight. His mind trying to come to grips with the possibility that their father might not survive this attack. Sam had taken to nervous chatter and somewhere in the recesses of Dean’s mind he heard his brother’s voice. It seemed non-stop as pieces began to sift into Dean’s hearing. Sam felt compelled to just keep talking about anything that popped into his head, and he found talking about how he learned to repair a book binding at the library the previous week was something worth conveying in his nervousness.

“And sss…some…times the leather bind…ings are old and want to crr…crack, so you have to bbb…be…” Dean snapped.

“Sammy what in the hell are you talking about? Jesus, our father is having a heart attack. Hell he could be dying right now,” Dean hissed. “And you’re talking about …what? Book bindings! Damn,” he spat. “I can’t deal with you right now,” he stood up abruptly. “I need a coffee.” He stalked away toward the coffee machine across the ER lobby. Sam sat silent and suddenly felt completely alone in a room full of people. He hadn’t meant to upset Dean. It was just nerves. Sam looked up and saw some of the people in the waiting room looking at him. He guessed they had heard his brother go off on him, and possibly had heard his meaningless chatter, as well. He stood up glancing at his brother’s back across the room getting a coffee. He dropped his head and walked away down a random hall to get some space from his upset brother. He didn’t go far and took a seat further down the hallway.

Dean watched as the coffee cup descended and filled his cup. He felt bad that he had snapped at Sam, and he’d fix it later, but right now he was too worried over their dad to think straight. He felt as if one more thing went wrong he’d snap like a twig. His plate was too full, hell it’s been too full for longer than he cared to add up, he thought to himself. He pulled the cup from the dispenser and noted it was one of those poker cups that give you a card hand on the side and below the cup is the final card. He glanced at the bottom of his cup and noted with a bemused snort that he had a full house. “Figures,” he grumbled to himself… good luck exactly where you don’t need it, he thought silently.

Dean glanced back at the seating area and quickly noted that Sam was not where he had left him. “Goddammit!” He hissed. “I don’t have time to coddle you Sammy,” Dean grumbled. But despite his anger anyone that looked at Dean could see the edge of panic in the young man’s eyes as he scanned the room quickly for his errant brother.

“Excuse me,” an older woman spoke from her seat in the lobby. Dean looked at her.

“I saw the young man you were with go that way,” she pointed down a hallway.

“Thanks,” Dean answered with relief. “Thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome.”

Dean walked urgently down the hall and he didn’t have to go too far when he saw Sam sitting in a small bank of chairs with his head down. He also noticed the small tremor shaking his brother’s left arm and hand. It was small, but he quickened his pace. Dean’s anger from the lobby was forgotten quickly. He sat down next to his brother and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay Sammy just take long slow steady breaths, okay? It’s not a bad one.” Sam lifted his face and looked at his brother and Dean saw the tears streaking down his face. “Hey, hey,” Dean said softly. “You’re okay. All right? It’s not bad. Just stay calm and it’ll be okay.”

“Sss…sorry I walked away,” Sam’s voice hitched in his throat.

“No, Sam I’m sorry I snapped. I know you were just worried and it was your nerves talking,” Dean assured.

“Still sss…sorry.” Dean nodded and put a comforting arm around his brother.

“Well, look at that,” Dean replied. “The seizure’s over and it wasn’t bad at all.” Sam nodded. “How long was it happening before I got here Sammy?”

“Couple minutes,” Sam responded.

“You see,” Dean said with a comforting smile. “It was gone in under six minutes,” he replied looking at his watch. “You think you’re up for going back to the lobby? I mean, we can see the ER doors from here, but I’d like to be closer.” Sam nodded. “Okay, kiddo let’s go. Now, I want you to try to relax Sammy. You don’t need to have a bigger seizure like the one you had at Ivy Ridge that one time, okay?” Sam nodded.

“Dean…” Sam’s voice trailed off and Dean knew what was being left unsaid. He put a comforting hand on the back of his little brother’s neck and gave a gentle squeeze.

“He’s a Winchester Sammy … Dad’s too stubborn to die.” Dean said the words trying to console his baby brother, but he was also trying to convince himself too. His mind wouldn’t stop running scenarios and he couldn’t stop the one thought that kept plaguing him … what if this was the one thing John Winchester wouldn’t walk away from alive? Dean and Sam returned to the ER lobby to await word on their father’s condition.

Four Hours Later in the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit (CICU)

“Your father is one tough fellow,” the doctor commented. “We’ve managed to stabilize him and the clot buster looks like it worked its magic.”

“But, I hear a but coming,” Dean replied.

“But… he’s in critical condition. We have him stabilized on various IV meds right now, and we’ve been able to halt the active heart attack. You need to know that he won’t be out of the woods for a few days. We are working very hard to keep his cardiac status as stable as possible. He isn’t conscious and he’s been given a mild sedative to insure he remains in a relaxed state. He’s on a ventilator right now and will be until I’m sure he’s out of danger.

“What are his chances? I mean, you stopped the heart attack, so …”

“Your father is tough I’ll give him that. There aren’t many men that could have been resuscitated after the heart attack your father had. But, as I said he is in critical condition and I can’t really give you a percentage. He’s fighting, so that counts for something. Once he is more stable and out of critical condition I’ll be assessing the damage to his heart more thoroughly, but right now we’re just trying to keep him stable. He was asking about you both right before he arrested.”

“He was?” Dean’s eyes softened for a moment.

“Yes, he was very concerned about the two of you.

“Hey Doc,” Dean’s was hesitant. “My dad’s in good shape, but this heart attack…” he paused. “I mean … I’ve heard stress and stuff can lead to this, and…” The doctor smiled reassuringly as he knew where this was going.

“You didn’t do this to your father … neither of you. Yes, stress can be a contributing factor, but it is only one domino in an entire chain of events that led to this. Diet and family history … you name it,” he comforted. “There are many factors. Internal and external. This isn’t your fault.”

“Thanks,” Dean wasn’t sure he was convinced that the stress of his relationship with his father since he returned hadn’t helped to push his dad into the attack. But, the life and diet of a hunter like his dad had become since the fateful night in Lawrence would and probably has taken a toll.

“Now, I can’t let you both in at the same time, but you can each visit him for 10 minutes separately.” Sam looked at his brother.

“You ggg…go Dean. I ccc…can wait.”

“You sure Sammy?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, but sit here in the chairs. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

“I’ll www…wait hhh…here.” Dean smiled and followed the doctor.

“Must be difficult?” The doctor commented idly to Dean as they walked toward John’s room.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Your brother,” the doctor commented. “Was he born with the speech deficit? I noticed a medical alert bracelet too.”

“Huh? No, he was in an accident a year ago. He suffered a bad head injury. The bracelet is for a seizure disorder.”

“Oh,” the doctor replied. “Is he okay on his own? I mean, can he be unsupervised? This is an intensive care unit for heart patients.” Dean stopped and looked at the man.

“Look, I appreciate everything you’re doing for our father, but my brother isn’t any of your concern. Yes, he’s fine to sit and wait. He doesn’t need supervised like some kind of puppy. You know he was a Stanford student … he’s not stupid, and I expect everyone in this unit to show him the same respect as anyone else. He has some speech issues and some other problems, but they aren’t your concern.” Dean was enraged, but keeping his voice level and calm. He didn’t want to get thrown out of CICU before seeing his dad.

“I didn’t mean to offend, but it is my concern in this unit,” the doctor added. “Is he emotionally stable enough to handle seeing your father? It could be very upsetting to him if he doesn’t understand the magnitude of what’s going on … there are machines and IV’s it could be upsetting. And, I’m not comfortable with him being unsupervised while he visits your father.”

“What are you saying? Look he can handle it, okay? It’s not like he’s going to start screaming like Rainman or something. My brother isn’t mentally challenged and I’ll be damned I let him be treated like he is. He is dealing with enough.”

“My point exactly.”

“You know if you don’t want him unsupervised then I’ll stay with him while he visits.”

“No, there isn’t room for two visitors and having more than one inside will impede your father’s care and should there be a crisis we need to act quickly. The rules of one visitor at a time are in place for a reason.”

“Fine, then he’ll visit on his own.”

“No, I can’t allow it. He’ll have to wait until your father’s condition is upgraded and moved out of the CICU to the Cardiac Care Unit or what we call CCU.”

“So what you’re saying is that you’re not letting my brother see my father? He could die, right? You aren’t keeping my brother away from our dad. You call his neurologist Dr. Rose Myers at Ivy Ridge Rehab Center and she’ll tell you he’s fine to visit our dad. He’s in out-patient rehab now. He can handle this.”

“Mr. Winchester,” the doctor began. “I understand your distress, but it is for father’s own well-being.”

“All due respect Doc … that’s a load of crap. My dad will want to know where Sam is, and you’ll be the one upsetting him if he can’t see Sam. Call Dr. Myers. He handled me in the ICU a few weeks ago with pneumonia and it was here in this hospital and no one kept him out.”

“I’ll speak with his neurologist, but he isn’t seeing him tonight. I’ll call Ivy Ridge tomorrow to ascertain his mental stability with his brain injury.”

“Whatever,” Dean was angry, but he wanted to see his father. “Where’s my dad?”

“In that room,” the doctor pointed. “10 minutes, and should you have any questions about your father, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Yeah,” Dean’s tone was harsh. The doctor sighed.

“Mr. Winchester,” he began. “It isn’t anything personal, but I have to think of the big picture and providing the best care for your father.”

Dean let out a long put upon sigh, “I heard you all right. I just want to see my dad.” And with that Dean walked into his father’s room. A nurse was just finishing up with hanging another IV bag, and adjusting what Dean saw was the ventilator settings. She smiled and walked out of the small cubicle. Dean noted that most of the free space was filled with equipment and IV poles. There was a bedside computer console where the nurse did her charting and scanning of drugs before they were administered. Finally, Dean took a breath and stepped toward his father’s bed and really looked at him for the first time since stepping inside. Dean’s initial reaction was a sharp intake of air. He stared at his father and felt fear. John was unmoving and his chest rose and fell at the will of a machine. Dean scanned the wall of monitors and watched the up and down blue electronic arches on his dad’s heart monitor. He listened to the beeping and found some comfort in its constant rhythm. Dean never thought he could feel more fear than he did in this moment. He wasn’t prepared to feel at a loss standing at his father’s bedside. This feeling he knew well… he was accustomed to it when sitting at Sam’s bedside willing him to live. But, he hadn’t been prepared mentally to see John Winchester sick and most of all fragile. He studied his father’s pale features. He looked almost gray and when Dean reached out and touched his father’s arm the skin felt cold to the touch. Dean found himself absently stroking his dad’s arm to try and infuse some level of warmth.

He found the intrusive oxygen tube snaking down his father’s throat a bit daunting, but he had made it through watching Sammy on life support he would get through this. “Dad,” his voice caught and Dean cleared his throat and tried again. “Dad, it’s me Dean. Ah, the doc says you’re going to be just fine, okay? So, don’t getting ideas about bailing on Sammy and me. Got it?” Dean watched his father’s still features and it hit him that he and Sam could lose their father. Hot tears welled up in Dean’s eyes and he fought against the emotional onslaught rising up in him.

“Listen Dad,” Dean’s voice had a pleading quality to it, and had John been conscious it would have floored him. “I thought I could stay mad at you the rest of my life, but I can’t. Sam was right to remind me about what I wanted back in Chicago when he was in rehab. I wanted the three of us back together again. Dad … we all make mistakes. Look you left Sam and me and maybe I’m still pissed about it, but that doesn’t mean I want you to die. We’re getting back on track dad,” Dean urged.

He held his father’s slack hand mindful of the IV tubing jutting from the top of his hand secured on a thin board with medical tape. “Come on Dad … we got Christmas in three weeks,” he commented idly. “I mean … you bought a tree and everything. You’re going to be okay. You keep fighting dammit. Sam and me are here, okay? And, don’t worry about Sammy I’ll make sure he takes care of himself and gets his meds. Uh,” Dean looked at the clock on the wall and it was almost 10 PM. “Listen dad the doc is only letting me visit once every hour for ten minutes, and my times almost up. Um… he won’t let Sammy see you because…” his voice trailed off for a second. “Because he’s an idiot, but he’s calling Dr. Myers tomorrow so Sammy will be here to see you in the morning.”

“Mr. Winchester,” a nurse came stood at the opening to John’s room. “Your ten minutes are up. I’m sorry.”

“All right, but I can come back, right?”

“Yes, you can come back the last ten minutes at the bottom of the hour.”

“Okay, I’ll see you at 10:50. Uh, if there is any change or anything my brother and I are just around the corner in the CICU waiting area. And, you have my cell number should we be in the cafeteria or something, right?”

“Yes, I have your contact numbers cell and home and I can also have you paged overhead. And, if you need anything or have a concern … I’m your father’s night nurse, and my name’s Connie.”

“Thanks Connie.”

Dean walked into the small waiting area in CICU. The room was just outside the automatic doors that led into the unit. There were only five chairs in there, and right now its sole occupant was his rather distressed looking younger brother. Sam stood when Dean walked in. “Hey Sammy, you doin’ okay?”

“I’m fine. How’s Ddd…dad? Ccc…can I ggg…go in now?”

“Listen Sammy sit down I gotta talk to you.” Sam’s eyes were alarmed as he sat instantly.

“No, no Sammy,” Dean was quick to allay his fears. “Dad’s holding his own right now, but here’s the thing,” he trailed off. There was no easy way to broach the subject, so he just had to jump in. “Dad’s doc is worried about you getting upset, and he doesn’t think you can be in there right now.” Dean saw the hurt cross his brother’s eyes. “Sammy he’s going to call Dr. Myers tomorrow and talk to her and you know she’ll say you can handle seeing dad. The doc is an idiot.”

“I ttt…told you people ttt…think I’m a tard. I’m nnn…not. I want ttt…to see dad.”

“Sammy I know you do kiddo, but it’s not happening tonight.”

“No!” he snapped back.

“Sam keep quiet,” Dean warned. “They hear you yelling they’ll never let you see dad while he’s in there no mater what Dr. Myers says.”

“I not sss…stupid. I just www…want ttt…to sss…see ddd…dad.” Dean turned to Sam detecting his brother was getting too upset as his speech began spiraling out of control.

“Sammy you gotta calm down, okay? You all ready had a small seizure earlier. Please, I now you’re upset. I am too. But, tomorrow the doc will clear you.”

“Ddd…dad could die,” Sam blurted. He stood up and paced the small confines of the room and flailed his arms up and down in irritation.

“Sam sit down,” Dean got up trying to urge his brother back to a seat. “Relax, okay?”

“No! I’m nnn…not dam…aged. I want to sss…see…” his voice fell off quickly and Dean’s eyes darted to Sam’s face. Sam was grabbing his head, and suddenly Dean recognized what was happening … it was a vision, but this time something else was different. He watched in horror as Sam’s eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed against Dean. “Oh shit,” he hissed as he realized with sudden clarity that a seizure and a vision had just clashed. It was the perfect storm. The seizure coupled with the synaptic explosion of the vision caused the minor seizure to crescendo into a full blown violent episode Dean had never witnessed before. He did the only thing he could, “Help! Somebody help me!” He tried to keep Sam from hurting himself as the seizure grew worse. As he stared at Sam’s face he felt a cold pit of terror replace where his stomach used to be as his heart hammered in his chest.

He heard running feet coming down the hallway and all he could do was try to protect his brother’s violently bucking head from hitting the floor. “Help! In here!”

Dean kept panicked eyes on his little brother’s face as he heard footfalls fast approaching. Sam’s lips were beginning to turn blue and frothy foam began to slide out the corner of his mouth. “Sammy!” Dean screamed. “Please! He’s turning blue.” Two nurses and a doctor burst into the small waiting room. The seizure wasn’t stopping and Dean suddenly felt himself pushed back as the doctor moved into his previous spot.

“Christ,” the young doctor hissed. “Get a damn crash cart. This kid isn’t breathing. Dammit get me some Phenobarb, now! He needs to be bagged!” The doctor saw the med-alert bracelet, and roughly flipped it and glanced at Dean. “He has a seizure disorder?”

“Yeah, but never like this,” Dean’s eyes were horrified. “He has Jacksonian seizures … never this.”

“Is he on medication?”

“Yes, Dilantin 100 mg.”

The staff poured into the room and began administering injections of drugs and it all seemed a blur to Dean. They fought against Sam’s convulsions to attach a heart monitor and pulse ox. He watched the doctor push the Phenobarb into his brother and waited for the seizure to stop … it always stopped, but this time not fast enough. “Dammit, that’s it,” the doctor barked. “I gotta paralyze him now! Before we lose his pulse. We’ll just administer the paralytic reversal drug in the ER.”

Dean watched the doctor prepare a vial and draw the drug up into a needle and inject it into his brother’s IV line they had managed to start while someone had held his arm down. Within forty seconds the seizure began to slow and within a minute and a half Sam was completely still. “Hyperventilate him,” the doctor instructed. “He’s cyanotic.” The nurse increased her bagging rate with the ambu-bag. “Hold off a second,” the doctor said after he was certain Sam’s oxygen SAT’s had come up to an acceptable level. Dean watched the doctor listen to Sam’s chest and the doctor frowned. “He’s not having spontaneous respirations. I gotta tube him.” Dean felt sick as he watched his brother intubated. He hated this and he had never wanted to see it again. Memories of Sam’s coma accosted his mind. Dean blamed the vision for this extreme seizure, as another part of him wondered what the vision had been about. Sam was loaded on a gurney that would take him to an elevator leading to a trauma room in the ER.

“I want his neurologist called. I have her pager number,” Dean snapped out of his stunned stupor at the events he’d just witnessed. Dean gave the information and rattled the number off by heart. The doctor attending Sam wrote the information down. “I mean it,” Dean asserted. “I want her called. She is his doctor.”

“We’ll have her called right away. But we need to provide him with some immediate emergency care to stabilize him.” Dean nodded out of reflex more than coherent thought.

He was torn between his father and his brother. His father was clinging to life and his little brother wasn’t conscious or currently breathing on his own. He had reached his last straw and stood stock still, absolutely frozen in the hallway as he looked at the doors to CICU and turned and watched the gurney with his brother begin to wheel away. He couldn’t do this alone, and felt so overwhelmed that he knew his grip was starting to slip. He pulled out his cell phone and filed through the programmed numbers and pressed send. He knew it was late. But, something in him was desperate to hear one voice he hadn’t heard in a while, but knew could help him not lose it completely. He needed help. His world was falling a part. His entire family’s lives seemed to be precariously balanced at the edge of a large precipice. He felt torn, desperate and at a loss to be of any help for his dad or his little brother. His life was unraveling at an alarming rate, and he felt the pull of dark thoughts and unbearable loss. He needed a life preserver now. The other end of the connection rang three times before a sleep inflected voice answered, “Hello?”

“Missouri?” Dean’s voice shook and cracked in desperation.