What Doesn't Kill You

Determination

After the doctor finished checking over Sam, he told Dean that he would like to talk to him privately in the hallway. Dean and Dr. Parker went out into the hall, shutting the door behind them.

"Well, it looks like your brother has a broken wrist. We'll put it into a cast, and you'll have to come back in about six to eight weeks to have it removed."

"Okay," Dean said thoughtfully, nodding his head. "That's not bad. Anything else? Did you find anything that could have caused the fainting?"

"That's one of the other things I needed to talk to you about. Your brother is malnourished and dehydrated. How long has he been in your care?"

"He came over to my place yesterday morning. My dad's been taking care of him, if you could even call it that," he mumbled, more to himself but not quiet enough that the doctor couldn't hear him, a frown creasing his face at Dean's words.

"And who's been taking care of you? You're still 13 yourself, correct?"

"Uh, yeah. I have a guardian."

"And where is your guardian?"

"At work. She said I could bring him myself. It's summer so I only have to worry about work right now, and I only work a few days a week mowing lawns and doing gardening work."

"Okay, well, I would like to speak to your guardian about Sam's situation."

"I've already talked to her about it, and she's working on getting guardianship of Sam right now." That was a lie. As soon as Dean got away from John, he ran into way too many people ready to take him into foster care. He had learned from his dad how to fake paperwork, and if that's what it took to stay away from John and out of the system, that's what he was gonna do. He managed to make a signature, birth certificate, and varying qualifications for Ms. Betty Smith, his guardian who happened to trust Dean with a lot of responsibilities.

"All right. Then why don't you give me her number, and I'll give her a call later. I'll expect you to take him home and make sure he eats well and drinks plenty of water for now."

"Great. Do you have a pen?"

-

As soon as they got home from the hospital, Dean set Sam up with an episode of Game of Thrones while he got dinner started. Nothing like a healthy meal of mac 'n cheese with cut up hot dogs.

He became lost in thought, debating with himself as to whether or not he should call John back. Only problem was he didn't know exactly what he was gonna say. Why would he call? To yell? Tell him he knew? What would be the point?

After supper, he decided he needed to talk to him, if for no other reason than for his own peace of mind, but it needed to be in person. Dean finished washing the few dishes from supper and then packed a bag for Sam and one for himself.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked quietly from behind Dean who was hunched over his dresser drawer.

"Uncle Bobby's. I have something I need to do, and you can't come with me, so you'll stay with Bobby for a few days."

"Why can't I come with you?"

Dean turned around to face his brother and cupped his cheek in his hand. "Sammy, I need you to trust me on this and not ask questions, okay?"

"Please tell me you're not going to see dad." At Dean's silence, Sam shoved his brother's hand away from his face and took a step back. "Dean, you can't go. Please! It's dangerous."

"I'll be fi-"

"You don't know that! He's stronger than you and if he finds out I'm not going back with him, he'll hurt you, Dean. Don't be stupid; just stay here. We don't have to see him again."

"Sam, he hurt you," Dean said almost desperately.

"So what? Going back to him is gonna make it better?"

"I need to see his face!" Dean tried not to shout, but he was shaking with the rage coursing through his veins. "I need to... I don't know what it is, but I need to do or say something. And it's gotta be in person. I'll know when I see him. But I can't just walk away from him without some sort of resolution."

Sam looked up at his brother, a sullen look casting a shadow over his face. "And I can't lose you, Dean," he said softly, pleading with his eyes for Dean to stay.

"You won't," Dean said, his words convicted as he moved to hold onto Sam's shoulders, kneeling down next to him. "I'll get in, say whatever the hell comes to me, and get outta there quicker than you can say... uh, something short." Sam huffed a laugh despite himself. "I'll finish up here while you go grab some snacks for the road, okay?"

"Okay," Sam said, but before he left the room, he took advantage of Dean's kneeling position and hugged him before he could get up.

When they both finished packing, Dean opened the back door to the Impala for Sam and dropped the bags in the trunk. The trip to Bobby's was long, eight hours not including stopping for gas and the restroom, but he kept himself awake with the music, drumming his hands on the steering wheel along with the beat while Sam slept for most of it.

As Dean pulled into the gravel driveway of Bobby's place, he turned the volume of the music down and reached a hand back to shake Sam slightly. "Wake up, Sammy. We're here."

Sam blearily sat up in the back seat and rubbed his hands over his eyes, and Dean got out of the car, popped the trunk, and grabbed their bags. Bobby stepped out on the front porch, his arms crossed, and his glare stern.

"What are you boys doing here?" he asked curiously. Dean could tell he wasn't upset, only concerned. Bobby always looked pissy, so he had to get used to discerning his expressions at a young age.

"Hey, Bobby. You think Sammy could hang out here for a while?" Dean asked as he walked up the front porch steps. Bobby grabbed the bags from Dean's shoulder and pulled him into a side hug.

"Course. Yer daddy know yer here?" he asked as he pulled away from their hug and walked into the house with Dean beside him, Sam following behind.

"No. I'm actually gonna go meet with him tomorrow after I get some sleep." Dean held the door open even after Sam walked through and waited until Bobby had set the bags on the floor near the stairs. "Hey, you mind if we talk outside? Sammy'll unpack upstairs and get settled in."

Bobby looked over at Sam sceptically and then back at Dean before nodding his head and walking through the door. Dean shut the door and Bobby motioned for him to sit on the porch rocking chair next to the one he sat in.

Dean let out a deep sigh, preparing for the backlash this conversation would most likely cause.

He explained most of the situation, from Sam showing up at his place a few days ago, to the bruising, to the notebook (not the part about Dean obviously), and the more heartbreaking things his father had done to his little brother.

"Boy, that is your father yer talking about, so you better be damn sure -"

"I'm sure," Dean said sternly. "Think about it, Bobby. Is it really that far-fetched? I mean, he gets drunk every time he's off a case, he left us alone in sketchy motels for weeks at a time, and you don't know what it's like when he's pissed. I left his place for a reason. I just never should have left Sam behind." He looked down at his feet, the weight of the guilt he felt holding him down for a minute. "I'm going to see him," Dean said looking up again at Bobby, determined. "I won't be gone long. I'll leave tomorrow morning bright and early and be back some time in the evening. Sam and I'll be gone before you know it."

"You boys are always welcome here, ya got that? No need ta rush out."

Dean nodded in thanks and Bobby smiled in return, the both of them sitting in silence, rocking in their chairs to the beat of nothing.