Missing Pieces, Chapters 3&4 of 8

[mamapranayama]

A/N: Hello all! I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving with your friends and family. And for those of you (like me) that are avoiding the stores and malls today as though they have been invaded by zombies, I have decided to give you my own brand of 'Black Friday' deal: two chapters for the price of one! (FREE! ... as usual).

Chapter 3
Two long weeks went by in the hospital before Sam was cleared to be discharged. During that time, he withdrew into himself and Bobby knew it wasn't all because of the drugs and painkillers they kept pumping into him as Sam claimed. When he was awake, he was morose, brooding, and quiet, staring off into the distance with the TV on, but never watching it. The rest of the time he slept, but never easily, often waking with a start from whatever nightmares were plaguing him.

There was little that Bobby could say or do to draw him out of his deep depression. The only person he knew who could really help in this situation was nowhere to be found and it pained Bobby to know end to see Sam hurting so much without Dean there to help him. He might not have said it aloud, but Sam needed his older brother and if anyone could see him through this, it was Dean.

And Bobby was certain that if Dean knew what had happened to Sam, he'd be there in a heartbeat.

Even as young boys during those times when John had dropped them off at Bobby's house when a hunt might last for weeks at a time, it always seemed to be Dean's self-driven responsibility to look after Sam and he hardly ever let Bobby do much for them other than cook their meals. Taking care of his little brother was a job that Dean took on with fervent zeal and he was instantly by Sam's side whenever he skinned a knee, bumped his head, or ran even the slightest fever. He also always had an eye out for danger and if anything should threaten his little brother, Dean would be there to protect him.

Dean was to Sam the father figure he should have had from John and when Bobby dwelled on how much responsibility he had dumped on his oldest son's shoulders at such a young age and how he could just tell Sam to take a hike and never come back, he sometimes wished that he had pulled the trigger on that shotgun the last time he saw him.

Bobby tried to elicit some information from Sam about what had happened between him and his family, but Sam didn't offer much other than to say that John had practically disowned him because he had wanted to go to college and that he didn't think Bobby should bother with trying to track them down.

Yet still, Bobby knew Sam needed his family. John might indeed be a world-class bastard; but Bobby knew that he loved Sam even if he had a terrible way of showing it and he needed to know what had happened to his son - he was his father after all and he should be there despite whatever had caused the rift.

So, he made several attempts to find John and Dean during that time despite Sam's insistence that he shouldn't bother. But even with contacting just about every hunter he knew to find their whereabouts, tracking them down was proving to be damn near impossible. All of the phone numbers he had been given were out of service, which wasn't surprising given the fact that the nature of their profession often led to run-ins with the law and if John and Dean had run afoul with the police, they might have found it necessary to chuck all of their phones and go to ground.

For now, Bobby would have to be the one to take care of Sam - the boy had no one else. But he didn't mind - he was an old man with only his books and his dog for company and while Sam may not be blood, he was family.

Therefore, week before Sam was scheduled to be released, Bobby made the two-day trip back out to his home to get it set up for Sam's eventual arrival. He installed a wheelchair ramp, made up a make-shift bedroom for him in his library, and arranged for Sam's medical records to be sent to Sioux Falls general hospital for his rehabilitation.

All was ready and as soon as Sam was signed out, given various antibiotic prescriptions and pain medications, Bobby helped him get into some street clothes for the trip.

Sam refused help getting dressed and got his shirt on without too much trouble, moving slowly so as not to pull on the various stiches and cuts on his arms that were still healing. His pants on the other hand were a bit more problematic and Sam had to give in when Bobby offered to help get the sweats over his enormous cast while Sam sat up on the edge of his bed. Bobby was still getting used to the sight of the bandaged stump and though he had been shown how to clean and dress the wound, it still tore him up inside seeing it up close, especially as he handled the leg and slid the pants up over it, the extra material past the knee hanging empty over the edge of the bed.

Bobby clasped Sam on the shoulder and gave it a supportive rub, "You ready?"

Sam said nothing and just nodded. His was face blank and expressionless, but his eyes gave away his dejection as they stared at the loose material at the bottom of his pant leg.

"It'll get better, kid." Bobby assured him, honestly wishing that was the truth.

Sam was then loaded into a waiting wheelchair and Bobby pushed him out to his car. Since it would still be a while before Sam could bear any weight on his broken leg, a large, muscular orderly followed them out and was at hand to help Sam into the car, practically carrying him out of the wheelchair and carefully getting him into the backseat.

Sam clearly was not pleased at being treated like a helpless invalid, but kept his irritation mostly to himself, only giving away his annoyance by flushing red in the face. Meanwhile, Bobby took the empty wheelchair, folded it up and loaded it into the trunk before heading back to the driver's side door and climbing in.

"You doing okay there, Sam?" Bobby asked as he looked behind him and started the engine.

"M'fine." Sam muttered flatly, his usual response to any questions about how he was feeling, whether he was in truly in pain or not. Sam turned his head so he could lean it against the window and closed his eyes.

Bobby sighed then started them off on the long journey home.

OOOOOO

6 weeks later

Sam would like to say that he was getting used to it, but he wasn't. It had been two months of this shit already and he was getting rather sick of it.

He stared at the useless appendage as Bobby finished wrapping it up after he had cleaned the puffy, and mottled skin around the wound and forced himself not to hate it.

But he couldn't help it. He did hate it. He hated every moment of this new existence.

On the good days -- those few and far between days when the pain wasn't excruciating -- Sam merely felt like a useless piece of crap.

But on the bad days - on the days where not even the heavy-duty painkillers he was on could take away the constant, permanent ache in a leg that wasn't even fucking there anymore - on those days he wondered what it would feel like to swallow the whole damn bottle of Vicodin so he would fall asleep and never wake up again.

'Phantom pain' was what the doctors called it. Fucking doctors … what did they know? 'Phantom pain' suggested that it wasn't real, that it wasn't there - but like all of the other phantoms Sam had encountered in his life, it was more than real. But, unlike those spirits he used to hunt, a quick, clean salt 'n burn would never make it go away.

He was stuck like this … permanently.

Bobby finished with the dressing change then rolled down Sam's pant leg, "Well, that ought to do it for now."

Sam tried to be grateful for the older man's help since the cast on his leg made it damn near impossible for him to reach his ugly stump of a leg in order to clean and dress it himself. But the care Bobby showered on him just made him feel all the more useless. Bobby shouldn't have to put up with him like this - he had a life of his own and Sam was just weighing him down with his invalidity.

He wasn't sure why Bobby took care of him like he did. It wasn't as though he and his father had parted on good terms and Sam had only put Bobby down as his emergency contact when he registered for school because he didn't think he would ever need to be called. School was supposed to be a safe place - a place to get away from danger.

Well … so much for that theory.

"Thanks." Sam forced out weakly.

"S'no problem." Bobby stood back up and eyed Sam with a small grin, "So, you ready to get going?"

Today was supposed to be some kind of milestone in Sam's recovery-the day his doctor would say if he could get his cast off. While he would be glad to have the heavy plaster cast that kept him either in bed or in the wheelchair gone, he didn't see how it could really change much. He'd still be missing a leg - he'd still be a cripple.

Sam nodded, "Yeah … Guess we should get it over with."

If missing a leg wasn't bad enough, then going out in public without said leg was even worse. Even at the hospital where injured and sick people roamed the halls everywhere, he had people staring at him - or rather at the piece of him that was missing. But, more than that, he got pitiful and sympathetic gazes from people and he hated that almost as much as not having a leg.

Sure enough, as soon as they arrived at the hospital, Sam could feel the eyes of people passing by them in the halls and he diverted his gaze to his lap until he was safely within his orthopedist's office.

Dr. Martin, whom Sam would admit was an honest and informative doctor as well as a personable man, walked into the exam room and stuck up a couple of x-rays up onto the light board. Over the weeks, Sam was in his office at least once a week to have his leg examined and he had gotten to know the routine quite well.

"Hey, Sam." He greeted him with a handshake and gave a nod towards Bobby who had taken a chair next to the exam table, "How are we feeling today?"

"Fine." Sam replied as usual even though that day wasn't a particularly good day as far as his pain went. He took a double dose of pills that morning, but they hardly made a dent in the ache.

"Good. Well, let's get you up on the exam table and take a look, shall we?"

Sam helped as much as he could, but he needed Bobby's help to get him out of the wheelchair and up on to the exam table. He hated being so helpless, but it was just par for the course these days - Sam couldn't even take a leak without Bobby's help.

After getting Sam up on the table, Dr. Martin started in on his exam, asking all of his usual questions as he pulled up Sam's empty pant leg. He unwrapped the dressing covering his useless stump of a leg and took a close look, poking and prodding here and there along the incision with his fingers. He then had Sam bend his knee and move what was left of his leg up and down, asking what hurt and if he was still experiencing the 'phantom pain'. Sam answered all of his questions with quick yeses and no's and when he was done, The doctor wrapped the leg back up and took a seat on his grey stool.

"Well, Sam. Things are looking pretty good," Dr. Martin smiled, "You're incision looks nice and clean and it's almost completely healed. I'm also encouraged by the amount of movement you have in your knee," He turned around and pointed to the x-rays hanging on the light board, "The x-rays we took the other day show that bones in your right leg have healed quite nicely and I think that this cast of yours can come off today. And after it's off you can start putting some weight on your leg, but you're going to need a brace to help support it so you can get around on some crutches. On top of that, I've set-up a consultation for you with our physiotherapy department to help build up the strength in your legs and if all goes well, we might see about getting you fitted for a prosthetic by the end of the month."

Sam felt as though he should have been as thrilled with the news as the doctor and Bobby clearly were, but he just couldn't muster the same excitement. However, he nodded his head and forced a grin because that's what he thought he should do.

An hour later, Sam was minus one plaster cast and had brace fitted to his leg that would allow weight to be put on the leg and stabilized the movement of his knee. He was sent directly to the physiotherapy department after that where he was handed a pair of crutches and given instructions on how to use them with just his weak leg to support him.

He was helped up from the chair and into a standing position by the therapist and Bobby grinned at him as he tested his braced leg and put his weight on it, taking his first couple of steps with the crutches while the therapist ghosted him in case he should falter. But, Sam didn't falter; his leg supported him and held his weight without much pain and he made it across the length of the room before the therapist ordered him back into his wheelchair before he wore himself completely out.

Sam was slightly out of breath and a little sweaty after that first go around with his crutches, but he wasn't worn out at all, he felt a renewed enegry coursing through him. He had underestimated how being vertical on his own again, even if it was for just a few moments, could be so liberating. Without the weight of the cast on his leg, he felt lighter and standing at his full height without anyone supporting him brought a familiarity and sense of normalcy that sparked something inside of him that he hadn't felt in a very long time - hope.

For the first time since he woke in the hospital in California, Sam grinned at Bobby with a smile that was genuine and his good mood lasted until the moment the older man pulled into the salvage yard and they both saw the black car parked in front of the house.

OOOOOO

Bobby was amazed at the change he suddenly saw in Sam the moment he got his cast off. The boy actually started speaking to him during the ride home in more than two or three word responses and he saw a spark in the kid's eyes that he hadn't seen since his accident.

Regaining a little bit of mobility and independance seemed to awaken the fighter in Sam that Bobby always knew was there and he was over the moon to see some of the haunted, depressed look in the young man's eyes dissipate somewhat as they drove back to the salvage yard. But the moment the sleek, black car came into view, he immediately clammed up and his face drained of all color.

Bobby muttered a curse under his breath seeing Sam's reaction as he pulled up and parked his car alongside the Impala. Right off, he could see that the vehicle was unoccupied, but its owner was standing on the porch, watching them as the car came to a stop. He killed the engine and looked over at Sam who stared silently as the figure took a step forward and headed down the steps towards them.

Sam's jaw muscles worked into hard knots as he swallowed hard and his teeth ground together. It wasn't anger that Bobby saw in young man's eyes however; it was sadness and shame.

"You gonna be okay?" He asked the kid.

"I don't want him to see me like this, Bobby."

Bobby sighed, "Maybe you don't, but I don't think he's gonna take 'no' for an answer. Besides, you two need to talk - he needs to know what happened."

"I can't …"

"You can. Trust me on this one, Sam. You need this."

Sam shook his head, but before he could protest the reunion any further, the passenger side door was yanked open, "God … Sam! What the Hell? You're supposed to be at school, I drove all the way out to Stanford to check on you but you weren't -"

Suddenly, a green-eyed gaze landed on Sam's legs.

He tried to cover his legs with a blanket from the back seat, but it was too late, "Dean please -"

"Sammy?" Dean whispered and took a step back, shock registering on his stricken face as he shook his head in disbelief, "Oh God …"

Dean stared at Sam, whose head had dropped, unable to look at his brother any longer. Dean's mouth hung open and he was struck dumb and Bobby took that as his cue to get out of the car and approach the younger man.

"Dean, let's go inside and talk -" He started, but Dean whirled on him, his shock quickly morphing to anger.

"Goddammit! What the fuck happened, Bobby? Don't you think you could have called?"

"Call you? " Bobby responded with equal vehemence, "Don't you think I tried? I talked to just about every damn hunter in the country trying to find you and your daddy, but you two are harder to find than bigfoot."

"How could you let this happen?" Dean's face went beet-red with rage, "Bobby, I swear to God - if this is because you took him some friggin' hunt -"

"Now, you look here, kid -" Bobby snapped back and was getting close to smacking the boy across the back of the head.

"Dean! Stop it!" Sam suddenly shouted from his seat in the car. "It's not Bobby's fault. It was an accident!"

"An accident? Doing what, Sam? You're supposed to be at school - where it's safe. How could this -" Dean pointed to Sam's legs, "happen?"

"I was hit by a car, okay?" Sam shouted back up at his brother, "It wasn't a demon, or a ghost, or any other kind of monster - it was just a regular, fucking drunk driver that ran me over and mangled my leg so bad that it couldn't be fixed! So yeah - news flash, Dean - nowhere is safe and my leg is gone!" Sam's voice cracked, heavy with emotion, "It's fucking gone and there's nothing you, or anyone else in the universe can do about it!"

Dean again was struck speechless and could only stare motionlessly while Sam's openly eyes filled with grief-filled tears. Bobby stood by and watched as Dean, true to his nature as Sam's protector, snapped out of it all of the sudden and dropped to his knees beside where Sam still sat in the car, wrapping his arms around his baby brother.

Sam didn't hesitate to bury his face in Dean's jacket while his brother drew him in closer and held him tight. Though they were muffled by the material of Dean's shirt, deep wracking sobs emanated from Sam's throat as his shoulders started to shake up and down.

Bobby had been waiting for and expecting this catharsis for some time. Sam had been keeping this all in since the accident and the dam had to break at some point. But, he also knew that there was only one person in the world Sam could ever feel safe enough to release this depth of pain and that person was the brother who held him in his arms and whispered soft apologies in his ear while stroking the back of his head.

"God, Sammy … I'm so sorry … I should have kept a closer eye on you … I should have been there for you."

Bobby stepped back and let the boys have their privacy knowing there were some things he just couldn't be a part of.

To Be Continued ...

Just kidding - here's the next chapter:

Chapter 4

Dean crept away from his sleeping brother, his sight lingering on the empty spot under the covers where Sam's leg should have been and continued to try wrapping his head around the fact that his little brother - the brother he promised himself he would always protect - had been so terribly hurt and Dean hadn't been there for him.

He couldn't fight the guilt that ate him as he found his way to the kitchen and took a seat in the chair across from Bobby.

The older hunter looked up from a book as soon as he heard Dean walk in and after a few moments of tense silence, Bobby asked, "How's Sam?"

"Racked out," Dean replied with a tired sigh, "I guess those drugs he's on knock him out pretty fast."

"Yeah … " Bobby agreed, "there's that and then there's the fact that his brother showed up out of the blue-"

Dean rubbed a hand across his face, the events of the last few days and now this had left him shaken and it had all started when his father left for a hunt in Florida.

It was really only a one-man job and his father gave him the choice to either come along or stay behind to research and look for their next job. Dean chose the latter for reasons he didn't tell his father.

Seeing as how they were in southern Oregon at the time, he figured that his dad would be gone long enough for him to take off for a few days and swing down to Palo Alto to check up on Sam and be back to do the research his father wanted him to do before he returned. It wouldn't be the first time Dean had snuck behind his father's back to make sure Sam was still okay.

Therefore, a few hours after his dad took off in his truck, Dean gassed up the car and headed south.

The other two times Dean had managed to make it out to Stanford to check up on his brother he had kept his distance and never let Sam know he was in was enough for him to just see Sam walk across the campus or spy on him through his dorm window for Dean to reassure himself that his brother was fine and was thriving without him. Afterall, Sam hadn't bothered to call him even once over all of these months and Dean's own angry feelings over the way his brother had dropped the whole college bomb and left had given him a bitter taste in his mouth, so he too had avoided calling Sam as well.

But, the closer he got to Palo Alto this time around, Dean found himself wanting more than to just see his sibling from a distance. It had been a year after all, and he missed his brother. Life was weird without him, and having him gone made Dean feel like a hole had been carved out his core. Sure, it was probably going to end badly and Dean was most likely being naïve to think that if he could just talk to Sam - then maybe they could patch things up and try being brothers that actually spoke to each other again.

But that hadn't happened.

Instead, Dean got to the Stanford campus and couldn't find his brother. Sam's room had been emptied and his roommate was gone for the summer. There were hardly any kids still living in the dorms and those that did, were pretty clueless and didn't know his brother from a hole in the wall.

Since trying to find Sam at the dorms was a bust, Dean was forced to look elsewhere. He recalled that on his last trip to the university he saw that Sam had gotten a job at a local convenience store and there was a good chance he still worked there, so headed for the store and tried to find someone who might have known if Sam was still in town.

The moron behind the counter was about as smart as a bag of rocks and he had only been working at the store for about a month, but he did give Dean some useful information:

"I don't know, man" the kid frowned, "All I know is that I got hired to fill-in for some guy who was hurt. I don't know what happened to him, but I do know that my boss is always going on and on about what a good worker he was and why can't I do as good a job as he did? Jeez, you'd think the guy was the re-incarnation of Jesus Christ or something."

Yeah … that was probably Sam, Dean figured.

"Do you know if he's still in Palo Alto?" Dean asked.

"I dunno. My boss said something about him going to South Dakota or something like that". The kid looked up at the ceiling as if it might help him remember. "Or was it North Dakota?"

Hearing the kid mention that 'hurt' and 'South Dakota' had Dean spinning his wheels with worry. There was only one person in South Dakota that Sam might know; Bobby Singer.

Dean tried to call the older hunter on every line he could think of, but of course, none of the numbers he had for Bobby from five years ago worked any longer since the older hunter needed to change them every so often so as not to draw suspicion to the various aliases he took on.

The next thing Dean knew he was in his car and driving east. It took two days of constant travel for Dean to reach Bobby's house, but his relief over seeing Sam in the passenger seat of Bobby's car from the porch that afternoon had been far too short-lived.

"God, Bobby …"

"Tell me about it." Bobby remarked then poured himself a shot of bourbon before sliding the bottle across the table to Dean. He gratefully took it and drank a quick swig straight from the bottle before starting in on the numerous questions he had rattling around in his head.

"How long ago did it happen?"

"'bout two months ago." Bobby answered, leaning back in his chair, "I got a call from the hospital out at Stanford. I guess Sam put me down as his emergency contact."

Dean shook his head, a fresh stab of guilt and hurt washed over him. Sam hadn't listed his own family as net-of-kin? He understood why Sam might not have put John's name down as a contact, but it hurt to think that Sam had put Dean so far behind him that he too was omitted. Either that or Sam didn't think that Dean would come to him if anything had happened.

That thought brought a renewed mix of feelings Dean didn't want to deal with.

He was about to ask more about what happened when Bobby came up with a question of his own, "So … it's been a while, kid. How are you holding up?"

"Me? Oh, I'm just great, Bobby." Dean let the sarcasm fly then took another gulp of the bourbon, "I just found out that my kid brother was smashed up by a drunk driver and lost a leg two months ago, so yeah … I'm super, thanks for asking."

"Don't get all snotty with me, boy. It's not like I wanted to keep this from you. I wanted you with Sam. But, why is it that every phone number I found for you and your dad has been disconnected? You two run into some kind of trouble?"

He could have slapped himself. The phones - no wonder Bobby couldn't find them. "Funny story actually …" Dean started to explain, "okay, maybe not ''ha-ha' funny, but the weird kind of funny, ya know?"

"No, I don't." Bobby replied dryly.

"Right…. anyway … about four months ago there was this rugaru out in Dayton that we caught munching on a little old lady, so Dad of course, took him out. Thing is, the lady was still alive so we called the paramedics to come and take car of her. Only it turns out that this lady must have confused Dad as being her attacker and gave the police his description which ended up getting broadcasted all across the midwest. So, to be on the safe side, we burned all of our old phones and ID's then laid low for a while until we were sure the po-po wasn't after him anymore."

Bobby nodded as if he had already figured that something like that had occurred. "Well, you're here now and that's what matters. Sam's been having a … difficult time with things. He's healing physically, but … emotionally? He's still got a ways to go."

Dean nodded and swallowed a painful lump in his throat. There was still a chance Dean could make up for all of the times Sam needed him over the last couple of months and he wasn't there, "You mind if I stay?"

"Hell, kid. If you left now, I'd probably kill ya."

OOOOOO

Sam woke up groggy and certain that yesterday was all a strange dream. Seeing Dean again and then crying in his arms like a little baby until he practically fell asleep couldn't have been real - it had to be a dream.

That was what Sam thought until the moment Dean walked in with a cup of coffee in one hand, a grin on his face, and a "Good Morning, Sunshine," on his lips.

"Hey." Sam returned the greeting as he ran his fingers through his hair then rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned loudly.

"Sleep well?" Dean asked, plopping down on the bed beside Sam as if the last year that they had been apart had never happened.

Sam nodded and sat up. Dean then handed him a couple of his painkillers, "Here, Bobby said you'd be needing these."

Yep … it was Sam's daily routine. Wake up in pain, swallow a whole bunch of pills. Spend the day in a foggy haze, take a nap, wake up in pain, take some more pills …

Sam took the pills from Dean and swallowed them down - it was less than he usually took, but he would take more as soon as Dean wasn't looking.

"So …" Dean started hesitantly, weighing his words carefully and unsure of where to start. "I talked to Bobby and I think I'll stick around for a while … ya know … until you're on your feet again …" Dean suddenly stopped as if realizing what he just said might hurt Sam's feelings, "Or foot … whatever."

Sam shook his head. "You don't need to stay. I'm sure Dad's gonna need you."

"Yeah, well … Dad can take care of himself for a little while."

"Right … unlike me."

"That's not what I meant." Dean sighed, "Look … I want to be here. I don't want you to get through this alone."

"I'm not alone, Dean. I got Bobby -"

"Okay … let me rephrase that. I don't want you to go through this without out me, okay? I should have been there for you and I wasn't. But, I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere … so, just let me help ... please."

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn't count the number of times when he was at school and especially the last couple of months when he thought about his brother and how he had always taken care of him. It used to make Sam feel guilty thinking that his presence all of Dean's life had practically robbed his brother of a childhood because he was always watching out for him. Dean shouldn't have had that responsibility and Sam tried to convince himself while he was at school that the distance between them would do his brother some good. Sam had hoped that Dean would find his own path in life without the burden of having Sam around to babysit, but that apparently hadn't happened.

Dean hadn't changed at all and Sam could see from pleading look on his big brother's face that he truly did want to help - he didn't want to leave Sam behind. Dean wanted them to be family again.

And now that Dean was sitting next to him, Sam realized how much he wanted that too.

Sam gave his brother a little grin, "Okay … I guess I'll try to put up with your bossiness for a while."

"Bossy? I'm not bossy, I just older … And I know more than you."

Sam snorted, "Really? Then what's the capital of Turkey?"

"uh …Who-cares-astan?"

"Yeah … you definitely know more than I do."

"Whatever …"

Sam sobered and his thoughts drifted to a more serious topic, "So … what about Dad?"

Dean's grin dropped as well, "Just let me worry about Dad, okay?"

OOOOOO

2 weeks later ...

"Hey dad, it's me … uh … so, I uh … Okay, here's the deal. I'm with Sam right now… and uh …He was in an accident, so I'm gonna stick with him for a while until he's better. But, don't worry, he's gonna okay -- I'll explain it all if you ever call me back. Look, I know you're not gonna like this and he's not your favorite person in the world, but we're at Bobby's and he's been taking good care of Sam … and we owe him for that. So anyway, I know you're busy, but if you get this message, you know my number and where I'll be."

John pulled the phone away from his ear with an uneasy feeling blossoming in his gut. Sam was in an accident? Dean was with him at Bobby's? What the Hell was going on?

Dean said not to worry, that Sam was going to be okay, but how could he not worry?

John looked at the date of the message and swore- damn, it was already almost two weeks old and there were many other messages after it that he hadn't even heard yet. John had been so wrapped up in the case he had been working on the last couple of weeks that he hadn't bothered to check his messages the whole time he was in Florida and he had missed them all.

"Goddammit all." John felt a rush of guilt. The cell phone was still something he was getting used to and often it got neglected and sat uncharged in his bag for weeks at a time. He preferred landlines and phones with wires, but still, he should have called Dean to check in on him, even though he was only supposed to be doing research while he was gone.

Angry at himself and Dean's vague voicemail about Sam, John hurled the useless piece of technology at the wall of his motel room and watched it smash apart into several pieces.

John may have said some -okay, many things that he regretted to his youngest son, and he was sure Sam hated him, but Sam was still his kid. John knew he would never win any parenting awards, but he had never stopped worrying about Sam, especially once he left and he could no longer keep a close eye on him.

He should have never let him go, and now Dean was saying that he was hurt?

John left the scattered pieces of his phone on the floor as he packed his bag and left the room, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

Jumping in his truck, John revved the engine and tore off, heading for the closest highway north.

To be Continued ...