AN: I know that I said I wouldn't start a new one until I finished The Long Goodbye... well, what can I say, this wouldn't leave me alone. This one is for MysteryMadchen since she's been after a really, really limp!Sammy story. I hope this one doesn't disappoint, Nicole.

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING of Kripke's creations... but don't I wish he'd share? ;)

It was cold and dark and the pain in what he could only assume was his head wasn't giving him a moment's peace. Groaning, he knew he needed to open his eyes, why he wasn't sure, only that this much quiet never bode well for him.

The pain increased as he cracked one eye open and slowly looked around to see nothing but grey. The walls surrounding him were grey, the ceiling above him was grey, the bars on the other side of his cell was…

Wait… cell?

He looked around carefully, taking in every detail, finally noticing that his shoes, belt, jacket and watch were missing. Another glance told him it was close to dawn if the shadows gaining color were any indication. That would explain why it was so chilly, but not why he was in some jail cell in God only knew what town.

"Good, you're awake… 'bout damn time if you ask me. Your attorney's here and already making a stink, so get your ass up and turn around, put your hands behind your back so I can cuff you before I take you to him."

Hesitating only slightly, he did as he was told, hoping that someone, anyone, would tell him what was going on.

It was a short walk from the holding cell, causing his feet only a slight chill on the marble floor. Being shoved into a small room, he was stopped suddenly by the figure standing before him and the look that he was given.

"Sit down John. We have a lot of material to cover and not a lot of time to do it. Between the DA and CPS fighting over you, we'll be lucky to get this case heard in a fair manner."

"Bobby?" John asked, surprised to see his friend standing there posing as his legal representation. The last he'd heard, the other hunter was in Utah following a lead on a rouge werebear.

Taking a moment to smile slightly, Bobby Singer looked at the officer and motioned for the door before sitting across from John. "Listen real close you idjit. For the past couple of weeks you've been acting off just enough to make some people concerned and when you were confronted about it, you went off on full blown attack mode. If it wasn't for the fact that me and some others got a call shortly before hand, you can damn well bet we'd have let you sit here and rot. Now for once in your life, sit there and shut up!"

John sat and listened to Bobby's harsh whisper and knew that whatever happened had to be bad and he couldn't help but wonder about his boys. Sending up a silent prayer, he readied himself to hear what Bobby had planned.

The judge presiding today was in no mood for technicalities and was definitely not in the mood for wild excuses. However, the case before him today had him puzzled. He'd known Sherriff Morgan for the past twenty odd years and never knew the man to make this big of a mistake.

"Sherriff, you say in your report that you tracked down Mr. Winchester by the license plate on his truck, is this correct?"

"Yes, your Honor. The video footage clearly shows the victim being discarded onto the ground and the truck moments later driving away. The license plate was clearly visible and easy to trace."

"Did you or anyone else actually see Mr. Winchester driving said vehicle?"

"No your honor, no one has come forward to say that he was the driver."

Letting out a deep breath the judge nodded before turning towards the defense. "I take it you have proof of your client's claim that he was at a bar thirty miles away when the attack occurred?"

Bobby rose and nodded. "I do your honor. I have a receipt for a bar tab at The Silver Flame bar and grill. John apparently was treating some friends to a couple rounds of drinks. I have taken the liberty of asking those friends, as well at the bartender to make statements directly to the court if you choose, your honor."

"Your Honor! It's obvious that these friends would be willing to lie to help their friend. Their testimony cannot be considered reliable!" the prosecution demanded, wanting the courts full attention as to why the men sitting in the back row shouldn't be heard.

"Jack, you know as well as I do that personal accounts weigh heavier than circumstantial evidence. Therefore, I'm swearing these men in so I can get some answers."

He was standing in front of a room marked ICU 3 and wondered how he got there. The past several hours, or had it been days, were such a blur with only a few minutes here and there clear to his mind. Even now Bobby was talking to him and he had no idea what was being said, only knowing that there was a hand on his shoulder instilling either comfort or courage to see what was beyond that door.

As if by magic, the door opened and he was inside staring at the thin, pale figure on the bed, listening to the mechanical breathing taking place the softer sound he was so used to hearing. A cursory glance told him that the figure had his eyes taped shut, had IV's running in both arms, cardiac leads were connected to a monitor that showed the constant and not so constant beating of the figure's heart, and yet he hadn't had the courage to actually see who it was lying on the bed so badly damaged that they were obviously closer to death than to life.

A voice floated through the fog in his brain until finally it pierced his soul and finally he was able to understand who it was and what they were saying.

"It wasn't your fault Dad. I should have been there, should have listened to him when he said something was off. I swear Dad, if I had known, I never would have left."

Dean. It was Dean's voice beaconing him back, which left only one other option and it was one he didn't want to face, but the truth was absolute – where there is one, you'll find the other. Taking another step and another he finally made it to the side of the bed until he was staring down at the torso of the figure, staring at the long, slender fingers that held the promise of more growth, until finally his gaze travels up until the face comes in view. And that is when it all comes to him at once, and his world collapses upon him.

"Dad, look, I know something's going on, so how about we wait here for Dean and hash it out," Sam said, facing his father and hoping that Dean would get back early.

"Look Sammy, just because you're too scared to come along and help me track this damn thing doesn't mean that I'm going to waste my time. Now either get in the truck or stay, but don't ever question me again," John said with disgust.

Knowing that Bobby and Caleb were the two closest besides his brother was a small comfort when taken in the fact that he was staring at his dad who just happened to be possessed by the very spirit they were there to track down and get rid of. Yeah, ok, so actual spirit possession was rare, but it didn't mean it didn't happen – why wouldn't anyone believe him on this?

"Ok Dad, but I need to get a few things first, ok? Just give me another minute and I'll be ready," Sam said hastily, knowing that he needed help… fast.

Making sure he was out of sight of his dad, he stayed close to the truck as if pulling something from the back all the while speed dialing his phone. Not even bothering to wait for the other party to say a word he jumped into the conversation.

"Dean, man, you have to get here… quick! I know you don't believe me, but Dad's possessed and now he wants me to go with him to…"

"What the hell boy! You think I'm stupid? That's it isn't it? Well I have news for you…" John said as he spun his son around and slammed him against the truck, hard enough to put a dent in the bed, "I'm not the one who got caught!"

John threw his fourteen year old son onto the asphalt and brought his boot down onto the teens sternum, effectively rendering any attempt at a decent breath futile. Not fully satisfied, he picked the boy up and held him close to his face. "You want to know the truth boy? You've been a pain in my ass since the day you were born. Hell, if it weren't for you, me and Dean would be kicking back right now watching a football game, eating your mom's cookies instead of listening to your whining!"

The first blow to the face didn't do too much damage, but it was the second one that fractured the cheekbone, the third that broke the nose, the forth that split the lip while at the same time dislocating the jaw. It didn't take long before the blows moved from the face, to the stomach, back to the chest and before long, the only one breathing was the very one who, in his right mind, would have done anything to protect his youngest son.

Hearing footsteps running, John quickly made his way into the truck and started it just as a desk clerk and a security guard rounded the corner. Leaving his son and the rescuers behind, he smiled wickedly as he accelerated and drove blindly down the road, knowing that whatever awaited him was nothing compared to what John Winchester had in store in the future.

Something was dying, that was the only time he'd ever heard that type of keening sound, but how he wished it would just get it over with so he didn't have to listen to it anymore. It took another minute or two to realize that it was coming from him and that he was on the floor tearing at his hair like a madman.

"Sammy!" he moaned, hoping… no… praying that this is all a nightmare and that in all actuality he is really the one in the hospital bed, caught up in a drug induced delusion that is refusing to let go.

"John." Bobby said sadly, hating to see his friend in so much pain. "John, they said… they said that he still has a chance to recover, and we're all counting on that. So you need to pull yourself together and stay strong for your boys, you hear me?"

Nodding, John did understand. Standing, he turned and gave his eldest a warm smile before making his way to his youngest son's side. "Sammy, I am so sorry kiddo. I don't remember what it was like, I just know that if I had any way of stopping it, I would have. I just hope one day you can forgive me. Right now though, you get your rest, 'cause I'm expecting you to wake up and walk out of here. You understand me Sammy? I'm not letting you quit just because these docs don't know how stubborn you can be. So, you come back, ok? Not for me, but for Dean. Ok? You come back to Dean and I swear to you I'll make sure this never happens again."

AN: Ok, how was it? Should I continue or hang up my pen and paper???