A Father's Love knows No Bounds

Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable in this story, nor am I making a profit.

Author's Note: Slight spoilers four Season Four. A huge thanks also goes to 1Pagan3 for letting me bounce ideas off of her and giving me advice to make this story so much better.

This oneshot is dedicated to Criminally Charmed who wanted a story with hurt/sick Sammy finding out that his dad gave his life for both his sons…not just Dean.

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Sitting alone in the motel room, Sam downed a few shots of whiskey to help quell the pain he knew was to come. He had a big gash in his shoulder that had to be stitched from the frigging poltergeist hunt where he had been thrown through a window, and there was no one else to do it. Looking at the empty bed closest to the door, his heart ached for the brother who was no longer there, the brother who now suffered in hell all because of him. Taking another swig from the bottle of Jack Daniels, he attempted to thread the silk through the eye of the needle. "Damn it, can't you do anything right?" he cursed as the first three attempts at threading the needle failed.

Finally succeeding on the fourth try, Sam placed the needle on the bed and reached over to the dresser to grab the bottle of peroxide to cleanse the wound as best he could. Removing the lid, he doused the gash liberally and swore out loud as he tried to breathe deeply through his nostrils to quell the pain. "In and out Sammy boy, in and out." He muttered, hearing not his words, but the words of his father John who was a firm believer in breathing through the pain.

Once he was able to see straight again, Sam picked up the pristine white washcloth and wiped the area clean of the frothy pink mess that had bubbled on his arm. "Here goes nothing." He whispered as he pushed the needle through the skin and grimaced at the tug on it as he pulled the silken thread through and tied off the first stitch. "Only nine or ten more to go." He said with a sniffle as he wiped his forearm across his nose and mouth area. Damn how he wished Dean were here to get him through this.

Looking at the empty bed once more, silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he desperately missed the big brother that had been taken from him so cruelly. It hurt so bad that even after two months, he still couldn't make himself get a room with a single bed. He needed the comfort of pretending that Dean was just away at the bar shooting pool and not residing in hell where he was being tortured unmercifully. Hearing the ring of his cell phone, he glanced over to see Bobby's name highlighted on the dial. Bobby had been calling him on a daily basis for a while, but he refused to answer. His heart wasn't ready to hear how things weren't his fault, because damn it, yes they were. If he hadn't turned his back on Jake in Cold Oak, then Dean wouldn't have had to make that deal with the Crossroads Demon, Dean would still be alive today.

Tying off the last stitch, he clipped the thread with the scissors and then downed another swallow of whiskey to numb the pain that he was still feeling. Pushing himself to his feet, he swayed precariously as the room swam in his vision. Leaning out and placing his hand on the small dresser, he steadied himself and then walked or should he say stumbled into the small bathroom. Looking into the mirror, he saw a man he really didn't even recognize anymore. His face looked haggard and his hair was oily and unkempt. Running his hand through the beard that was now beginning to grow, he stared into the bloodshot eyes that were looking back at him, that seemed to mock him for failing to save Dean. Unable to take the scrutiny, he raised his uninjured arm and plowed his fist into the mirror, watching as the broken shards flittered into the sink.

Grasping the small wrapped plastic cup that sat on the brim of the sink, he removed the cellophane wrapping and filled it with water. With shaky hands, he opened the Tylenol bottle and popped three of the pills into his mouth and washed them down quickly, some of the water running out the sides of his mouth. Stumbling back into the bedroom, he salted the door and windows with the last of his strength and then collapsed into bed. Feeling a chill, he pulled the comforter over him hoping that maybe tonight, he would be able to sleep without the night terrors that had been plaguing him since Dean died. Glancing one last time at the empty bed, he whispered, "Please forgive me Dean, I wasn't worth it. You should have let me d-die like dad said." Before falling into an uneasy sleep.

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A few hours later as he tossed and turned with damp hair plastered to his forehead, Sam awoke to the feeling that he was not alone. Opening his eyes, he could see a figure sitting on the bed opposite of him watching him closely. "De'n?" He queried with a whisper as shivers wracked his tall frame.

"No Sammy, it's me son"

"Da'ad? But how?" Sam questioned as his fevered mind tried to understand what was going on. His dad couldn't be there, he was dead. Dean was dead. He had no one.

"Yeah it's me kiddo. I came because you needed me and because you need to know the reason I sacrificed my life for you boys." John said as he stood up and walked over to his son's bed.

"Nooo. S'not right! You didn't do it for m-me." Sam stated as he shook his head back and forth denying his father's words. "You ha-hated me, that's why you sent me out of the room before you di-died. You couldn't stand the sight of me."

"You're wrong Sam, I sent you out because I loved you tiger. You were already hurting so bad with everything that had happened to Dean. I didn't want you burdened with the knowledge that I had found out about the demon and it's plans, plans for you and the kid's like you. Besides, I knew if I let you stay that you would have figured things out and possibly tried to stop me from seeing the deal through thinking we could find another way. Don't you see Sammy, it had to be me that died. You would have never survived the loss of your brother. In giving my life for Dean's, I was saving BOTH of my sons." John informed his youngest as he reached out to place a palm on Sam's fevered cheek.

"I do-don't understand." Sam voiced as he tried to make sense of the words his father was saying.

"Sammy, from the moment I put you in Dean's arms and told him to take you outside as fast as he could, you boys have been inseparable, and that bond has only grown and solidified over time. Your lives have been so wrapped around each other that neither one of you could really function alone. You gave each other purpose, a reason to go on. By doing what a father should do for his children, I made sure you had you're brother to always be there for you and watch over you, just like he always had. Sammy, he was a better dad to you than I ever could have hoped to be." John stated in explanation.

Knowing that he had to get through to his youngest, that he had to make Sammy understand, John took a deep breath and went on. "Son, I knew it was Dean you needed to survive this life and not me. I had to do something, I couldn't just stand by and lose both my boys, you two were all I had. Believe me Sammy, I know right now things aren't great and that you're hurting. If I had known what was going to happen, what Dean was going to do, I might have done a few things differently, but not the deal kiddo. I would willing have given myself up for you boys at any time."

Tears flooded Sam's eyes as he finally realized how much his dad loved him. "M'Sorry dad, I never should have tried to pick that fight with…."

"Shhh Sammy, you don't have to apologize. I know you didn't mean the words you said. Just remember, I love you son." John voiced as his body began to shimmer.

"Love you too dad." Sam whispered before once again dropping off into a fever induced sleep.

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Early the next morning, Sam awoke abruptly and glanced around the room, his mind overwhelmed by the events of the previous night. He couldn't believe his dad had actually came to him and talked to him when he had never felt more alone in his life. He felt a huge burden lifted from his shoulders knowing that his dad didn't hate him when he died and that he had given his life for him too. Maybe his dad had faith in him to do the right thing. Pushing himself to his feet, he said, "I won't let your sacrifice be for nothing Dad, I'll find a way to save Dean."

Knowing that he needed a clear mind to think, Sam trudged to the bathroom and turned on the shower which would help to clear the alcohol induced cobwebs from his mind. Gripping the bottom of his t-shirt, Sam groaned at the feeling of the sweat soaked shirt and boxers clinging to his body. Stripping off the t-shirt in one smooth motion, he hissed at the pain that shot through his arm where it had been stitched. Opening the first aid kit, he pulled out a waterproof bandage and placed it over the stitches to keep them dry before stepping under the invigorating spray.

Holding his head under the pulsating water, he tried to think of new ways to help his brother. He had already tried making a deal himself, but the damn crossroads demon refused saying they already had what they wanted. His research had accomplished nothing other than costing him time, time that Dean was paying for in the fires of hell. He had to find something, make some last ditch effort on his part to get Dean out.

Climbing out of the shower, he grabbed one towel and wrapped it around his waist as he used another to dry his hair as best he could. If he was going to figure out a way to save Dean, he had get his mind back in the game. He couldn't continue with these drinking binges that were clouding his mind and allowing him to wallow in self pity. He had to make his dad's and Dean's sacrifices count for something. Walking back into the room, he rifled through his duffle bag until he found a clean pair of boxers and jeans to wear. Quickly dressing, he booted up his computer to start researching once again. This time, he would not fail.

END C.C., I hope you enjoyed the story and that it at least met up with some of your expectations with the scene between John and Sammy.