Okay so let me tell you exactly what I think of all of you! I think you all are amazing, and I can't thank you enough for your support through this story!
One Week Later:
"Dean for the last time, I am fine!" Sam yelled, getting impatient as his brother tried to mother him. Both brothers scowled as their father burst out laughing in the corner of Sam's hospital room.
"You think this is funny?" both brothers shouted at the same time, both of them pointing to Sam's wrist and bandaged stomach.
"No I don't think Sam getting hurt is funny!" their father said, his tone harsh and serious, but it didn't hold as he burst out laughing again. "But I do think the hissy fits that you two throw, even at twenty two and twenty six, is funny." Sam growled at him, and went to run his hand through his hair, but hissed in pain as his hand brushed over the gash on his head.
Dean turned to him, and his face was etched in concern once more. "If you even think about going all chick flick on me, I will kick your ass, and then hand you over to a bunch of psychiatrists to drug you, and put you in a white , padded room with a lovely straight jacket to update your style!" Sam said, his voice low, and his tone serious.
Dean turned white, but tried to regain his composure with, "Seriously Sammy, me chick-flick? Geez, if I wanted to hear an asshole talk I would fart. Ungrateful little prat," Dean said, and then lowly added, "I'm going to get something to eat." Dean walked out of the room, and turned in the direction of the cafeteria.
"Has he forgot what the hospital food tastes like?" Sam asked, and looked up at the open doorway, as Dean walked past going in the other direction, looking more pale than he had a minute ago.
"Guess not," his father said, and both laughed.
"So seriously," Sam started to say, but went quiet for a while after that. It was about fifteen minutes of both Winchesters looking down, that Sam finally said, "Dad, I'm sorry." His voice was small, and John wouldn't have heard it if he hadn't been a hunter.
"Sammy?" John asked, looking up at his youngest son's face. It was riddled with guilt, and it almost broke his heart to see his son in that much pain.
"If I hadn't been so much of a hard headed asshole, and left for Stanford; mom's killer would have been found by now. Jess wouldn't be dead, and Emma wouldn't have come after me for revenge, and none of this would have happened," Sam said, his voice was low, and his tone carried guilt and sadness.
John stood up and looked at his son, who looked so much younger and more vulnerable at this moment than he had ever seen him. He put his hand on his son's shoulder, and took his chin in his other hand. John turned Sam's head to look at him, and saw the tears that laced the bottoms of his son's eyes.
"Sam it wasn't your fault. When you left to go to Stanford, yeah it hurt, but I was happy that at least one of my sons had got to get a try at their dream. As for Jess, that wasn't your fault, and I don't ever want to hear you blame yourself for her death again, do you hear me?" his father asked, his tone hard, and Sam nodded, but John wasn't satisfied with his son's answer. "Tell me, Samuel!" his father said, his voice and face menacing.
"I... I can't do that Dad," Sam said, his voice breaking, and tears ran down his cheeks. His pushed his father's hand away, and turned his face away from the man that had been there for him as best as he could manage for as long as he could remember.
"Samuel Brian Winchester!" his father growled, but Sam shook his head.
"It was my fault!" Sam yelled, and his father looked at him, shocked at his outburst. "I dreamt that she died for weeks before she actually died! I knew that something was wrong, and that the dream had some truth to it, because it was so vivid, and I couldn't feel the heat, and smell the blood. I don't remember what happened to mom, so it couldn't have been a mix of that and Jess," Sam said, and took a minute to try and compose himself. "I could have stopped it! The only woman that I ever loved, died... And it's my fault!" Sam yelled, and then broke down.
John grabbed his son, and pulled him into a hug as sobs wracked the body of his youngest. Sam was a strong man, but when all of the things that had happened to him added up, and stayed hidden inside for so long, any man would have broken under the pressure. Sam shook in his arms, and John felt guilty for his son going through so much pain, and there was basically nothing that he could do to help him, except listen.
"You couldn't have stopped it Sam," his father murmured as he held his son, and stroked his hair. "It's not your fault, there is nothing that you could have done." His words soothed his son, though all he was trying to do was keep it together himself.
"I saw her," Sam told him, his tone almost pleading with his father to blame him. Sam had gone through too much in his life, never meeting his mother, because she had been murdered right above him when he was only a baby. Losing his beloved fiance Jess, the same way that he had lost his mother, and blaming himself, because he had a gift that he hadn't known about before it was too late.
He was hunted by all things supernatural, because he had abilities, and because he hunted them. He had been blamed for the death of his true love, by her sister, and had then been tortured by who would have been his sister-in-law, had Jess lived. And now blaming himself for all of those things, because he had gifts that he didn't know how to handle.
"It wasn't your fault, and no one but you believes that it was," John said, and Sam clung to him, trying to rid himself of the guilt that was sewn into his mind, but it wasn't that simple. The guilt clung to Sam, like he was clinging to his father.
John felt a shift in the energy of the room, and turned his head to see his eldest son standing in the doorway looking at them. John kept his arm tight around Sam, and kept rubbing soothing circles on his back. He watched as Dean walked over to them, and grabbed Sam's hand.
Sam looked up and saw his brother standing there, his face etched in the same concern that it had been earlier, but this time it was welcomed. While he leant into the embrace of his father, who kept holding him, and rubbing his back, Sam grabbed Dean, and felt as his brother hugged him and held his hand.
"God I feel like a pansy," Sam whispered, and added, "It's my fault and I make you two feel guilty about it." Sam said, and John and Dean both tightened their hold on him. Sam didn't mind, but he knew something was wrong. He didn't day anything, just let them be there for him.
Both the eldest Winchesters were thinking the same thing...
It's going to be a long hard ride, but we will get Sammy back.
If you want a sequel or not is up to you, and your ability to review!
...thanks again trickstersapprentice... I really appreciate the job that you do!