Okay guys...final chapter! Sorry it's been such a long wait. Things have been a bit crazy, but finally settling down...at least for a few days :D Thank you so much for all of you who have stuck with me on this. Your comments have been wonderful and so appreciated! So...without further ado...on with the story!

Cindy :)

Old Scars, New Wounds

Chapter 7

Dr. B. Anderson smiled softly as he listened to the two Winchester brother's banter. They were a special pair…closer to each other than any other siblings he'd ever come in contact with. Dean, the elder brother, fussed over Sam, the younger of the two, like a mother hen and it was obvious that Sam was none too happy about it, or at least he wanted his older brother to think so, but Dr. Anderson wasn't fooled. From his vantage point, and the fact that the boys seemed to have forgotten that he was even in the room, Dr. Anderson could see the small smile that would curl Sam's lips every time Dean would look away. Sam complained and whined about his brother's doting, but it didn't take a genius to see how much it truly meant to him.

"Deeeaan…I can do it myself," Dr. Anderson heard Sam whine as Dean crouched down, attempting to put Sam's shoe on his foot. The doctor grinned knowingly to himself as the conversation continued.

"Yeah? And what if you pop a stitch, Sammy? What then?" Dean responded with equal irritation. Dr. Anderson chuckled as he watched Sam roll his eyes, something he'd seen on several occasions over the past few days as Sam healed and became more and more independent.

"I can put my own shoe on, Dean…I'm not going to pop a stitch, and even if I did, it's not like I'm gonna bleed to death," Sam spat as he tried to take the shoe away from Dean, only to have Dean pull it away and out of his reach. When Sam tried to jump up off the bed too quickly, Dr. Anderson felt it was time to step in.

"Hey, Sam…why don't you let Dean help you. I know you won't bleed to death, but if you do pop a stitch…however remotely possible that is…you could get an infection and we wouldn't want to see you end up back in here, now would we?" Dr. Anderson said as he approached the bed. He knew there was little chance of Sam popping a stitch, but he could see by the way Dean acted that he needed to do these small things for his brother. It almost seemed as if the older brother thrived on taking care of the younger one, like if that was taken away from him he wouldn't know how to function.

"Aw, Dr. Anderson…why do you have to take his side? Now he's gonna think it's okay to go to the bathroom with me too!" Sam whined indignantly.

"Um…I won't be going to the bathroom with you, Sam…that's just gross," Dean scoffed before he grinned up at Dr. Anderson. "I will hover outside the door though, so when nature calls…don't dawdle."

"Deeeaaaannn…"

"Okay you two. Time for me to take one last look at my patient before you leave," Dr. Anderson said with a chuckle.

Sam looked up with those wide eyes Dr. Anderson had become so used to and cocked his head. "But, you already checked me out this morning and said I was good to go," Sam said warily, as if he was expecting the doctor to say he had to stay another day.

"I know, Sam, and you are good to go. I just want to do a quick check before you leave and I want to make sure your family has all of the instructions for further care down."

Sam chuckled at that and glanced at Dean. "I'm pretty sure Dean has all of the instructions memorized by now and will be taking them to extremes as soon as we leave the building," he said with a hint of irritation.

"Well, good. You need to take it easy for the next few weeks," Dr. Anderson said as he moved in front of Sam and gently pulled his tee shirt up. He pulled the bandage away from the wound near Sam's navel to inspect it then replaced the bandage carefully. He then took Sam's hands and gently poked the exposed tip of each finger. "And you're going to need to have Dean help you with a lot of things until these fingers heal up enough to start physical therapy on them," he added.

"Oh man," Sam whined as he rolled his eyes.

Dean patted Sam's knee affectionately and sat down on the bed next to him. "Ah, it won't be so bad, Sammy. And don't worry…I won't tell anyone that you have to sit down to tinkle," he said with a wink.

"Dean!" Sam cried out, his cheeks immediately flushing a deep shade of pink. "God…sometimes you're such an ass!"

"Hey…you're the one who said you didn't want me in the bathroom with you. So, explain to me how you're going to "handle" things with your hands bundled up that way," Dean teased as he nudged Sam with his shoulder.

Sam glanced over at his brother, but Dean did not see what he expected to see…his little brother's patented bitch face. Instead, what he saw were two shining hazel eyes and a little brother who looked on the verge of tears. He turned and gently grasped Sam's arms and turned the younger boy slightly toward him, making sure that Sam kept his gaze. "Hey, kiddo…I was just joking around. I'm sorry…I was being a jerk," he said apologetically.

"It's not that," Sam said softly. The teenager lifted his hands and looked down at them before returning his gaze to Dean. "It's just that…everything is all screwed up now. I'm useless…c-can't do a damn thing with th-these," he stammered miserably.

"Hey…you are not useless, Sam! Don't you ever say that. This is just a bump in the road that we will get over…together. You and me and even Dad…got it?" Dean said softly yet sternly.

"But…I can't even turn a page in a book…or…or anything!" Sam cried.

"Then I'll turn the page for you…until you come up with some crazy way to do it yourself, you freakin' little genius nerd boy!" Dean answered. "Now I don't want to hear anymore of this you're useless crap, okay?"

Sam nodded and gave a small smile. "Sorry, Dean…I just…it's all a bit overwhelming," he said softly.

"I know, kiddo, but we'll get through it just fine…you'll see," Dean said in reply.

Both young men turned when Dr. Anderson cleared his throat and both seemed a bit embarrassed that they had forgotten the doctor was there and saw their little chick flick moment. Dean straightened up and squared his shoulders as he turned his full attention to the doctor. "Uh…yeah, doc…what is it?" he asked in as manly of a voice as he could muster.

"I just wanted to let Sam know that you are right, Dean," Dr. Anderson said before turning his attention to Sam. He smiled as the teen met his eyes. "Your brother is right, Sam. Your fingers are healing up real nice…a lot better than I had anticipated. A little physical therapy and you'll be back to normal in no time. Just don't get discouraged. It's going to be tough for awhile, but I have no doubt that your brother and father will be right there with you the entire way," he said.

"Thank you, Dr. Anderson…I know they will be," Sam said with a slight nod of his head.

The room fell into relative silence until a few moments later the door swung open and John stepped in. He narrowed his eyes a bit as he looked at each of the three occupants. "Uh…did I miss something?" he asked as he moved toward the bed.

Dr. Anderson stepped aside so John could be closer to his sons. "Nope…we were just going over a few things. I think Sam here is ready to get out of this place…right, Sam?" the doctor said with a grin.

"I've never been more ready for anything in my life!" Sam quipped as he scooted forward so that he could stand.

"Hey…hold up there, little doggie. You gotta wait for the wheelchair," Dean said, his hand gripping Sam's arm to keep him on the bed.

"Oh man! I don't need a wheelchair. I can walk just fine," Sam argued.

"Hospital policy I'm afraid," Dr. Anderson said, his dark eyes meeting Sam's hazel ones.

John chuckled as he moved toward the door. "I have the wheelchair out in the hall, Sammy. A few minutes in it isn't gonna kill you," he said. He opened the door and pulled the wheelchair into the room. He and Dean got Sam moved from the bed to the chair and within minutes they were headed down the hall toward the elevators with Dr. Anderson watching them as they went. Once they turned the corner out of his sight, the doctor smiled fondly then turned and walked the other way to make his rounds, already missing the small family, but thankful that they were relatively intact in spite of all they had been through.

X X X X

Three Days Later

Dean awoke, startled from a deep sleep, by what he didn't know. He glanced around the dark bedroom, his eyes still adjusting to the lack of light when he heard a crash from down the hall. He was out of bed in an instant and flicking on the light by the door. He looked over to Sam's bed, his stomach dropping when he saw no little brother sleeping soundly there. He rushed from the room in a panic then heard scuffling sounds and murmurs coming from the bathroom. He pushed open the door without knocking and rushed in when he saw Sam kneeled down on the floor, broken glass, a pill bottle and several white pills scattered around him.

"Sammy…what are you doing?" Dean asked as he made his way to his brother.

Sam looked up, eyes wide and glistening, the teen looking completely miserable. "I woke up and my hands hurt…was trying to get some Tylenol, but…I can't do anything!" Sam cried as he turned away and made an attempt to clean up the mess he'd made.

Dean knelt down and grasped Sam's wrists gently, then pulled him to his feet. "You're gonna cut yourself, kiddo. Let me get this cleaned up then we'll get you some pills, okay?" he said as he guided Sam down onto the closed toilet lid.

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but John's sudden appearance in the doorway had him slamming his mouth shut and involuntarily flinching before he dropped his eyes and muttered a soft apology. "What's going on?" John asked as he stood just outside the room, his dark eyes not missing the way Sam flinched when he arrived. "You okay, Sammy?" he added.

Sam looked up through long eyelashes and nodded. "I dropped them…stupid hands…" he said softly in reply before turning to watch as Dean carefully cleaned up the broken glass and pills.

"Hey…it's okay. You just have to give a little bit of time," John said as he moved into the small room.

Dean finished with the last of the mess then looked up at his brother. "If your hands were hurting, why didn't you wake me up? I would've gotten you the Tylenol," he asked.

Sam sighed and leaned back against the tank of the toilet. "I know you would've, Dean, but…I didn't want to wake you up. You've been taking care of me and not getting enough sleep and I thought…I thought I could do this one simple little thing, but I guess I can't! I can't do anything at all! I…"

"Hey, hey, hey…stop it, Sam!" Dean snapped as he moved toward his brother. "Like Dad said…you just have to give it a little bit of time. Your fingers will heal Sam and then we'll start doing the exercises that Dr. Anderson showed us. You need to be patient."

"That's easy for you guys to say!" Sam cried. "How would you like it if you couldn't even take a shower…or pick up book to read…or…or…oh, nevermind. Neither one of you would've gotten yourself into this mess in the first place. It's my own fault for being so stupid."

Sam turned his head away from his family in shame. Dean and John shared a glance before John stepped up beside his youngest son and knelt down. He reached out and gently turned Sam's face toward him, once again ignoring the slight flinch his touch caused. "Look at me, Sam," he said when Sam kept his head lowered, refusing to meet his father's gaze. Sam slowly did as he was told and looked up at John. John smiled slightly when their eyes met.

"Sam…you are far from stupid. You had no way of knowing that wasn't me and none of this is your fault," John said as he watched Sam. He could tell by the look in Sam's eyes that the teen didn't believe him. He scrubbed his hand over his face and through his hair and wondered if they would ever get through this. "Sam…"

"I should've known, Dad. I let you…it…in and didn't…"

"And how could you have known? Because I've never come home skunk ass drunk before and treated you like crap?" John interrupted as he cast a quick glance to Dean who sat quietly on the floor nervously watching the exchange. John turned his eyes back to Sam and sighed. "Oh wait…I've done that more times than any of us can count," he added, his voice taking on an air of shame as he dropped his eyes.

"Dad…I…I understand. I mean, I get it…why you have to…"

"I don't even understand it, Sammy. It's hard, yes…very hard when I think about your mother, but…I shouldn't handle it the way I do. I just shouldn't…and you shouldn't have to be scared every time one of those days comes around," John sadly said. He squared his shoulders after a moment and once again looked at his son. "And you certainly shouldn't be blaming yourself for something that happened to you because I failed to do my job."

"Dad…no," Sam said as he now leaned forward to offer his father support. "You didn't know there were two of them…how could you have?" he asked.

John looked at his son and smiled, his heart filled with love for the sometimes pain in the ass teenager. "Kiddo, I'm supposed to be making you feel better, not the other way around," he said with a slight chuckle.

Sam shrugged and glanced at his brother before returning his gaze to John. "Well, you shouldn't be blaming yourself for what happened, Dad. You had no way of knowing there were two shifters. I on the other hand should have been able to tell that something was wrong. I mean, that's what all the training has been for, right?"

"Sam…"

"I heard you all talking…you, Dean and Bobby. There's a hunt in Montana…you guys should go…leave me here with Bobby," Sam said softly.

"No, Sam…we're not leaving you here to go on some hunt," Dean said.

Sam looked over at Dean and shrugged. "Why not? You've done it plenty of times before when you thought I'd be in the way so how is this any different?" he asked.

"Sam, there are other hunters able to take this job. We're staying here with you," John said.

"Yeah, but you're the best. And since when has it ever mattered that there were other hunters available?"

John sighed and dropped his eyes to the floor. When he finally lifted them and looked at Sam there was such sadness in them that Sam nearly gasped. John reached out his hand and tenderly grasped Sam's arm. "Since nearly losing you opened my eyes to the fact that I've been neglecting what means the most to me in this world, Sammy…you and your brother," he said solemnly. "I've put the hunt before you and your brother for far too long. You need to take it easy until you are healed and I need to be here with you. Caleb and Josh can take the hunt in Montana…besides, Bobby has a lot that needs to be done around this place and he's getting up there in years…wouldn't want him to break a hip," he added with a chuckle.

Sam bit at his lower lip, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Really? You really would rather stay here with me than go on a hunt?" he asked cautiously.

John swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat, the hopeful look in his youngest son's eyes breaking his heart. When had he become this person? When had he become the kind of father whose own son couldn't believe it when he said he was putting him first? Mary must be so proud, he thought as he wrapped his arms around Sam and pulled him to his chest.

"Really, Sammy. There is no place I'd rather be than here with my boys," John said with a slight hitch in his voice. He hugged Sam close for several moments, relishing how the teen melted into him, before he gently pushed away. "Now, let's get you some Tylenol for those hands then it's back to bed for the both of you," he sternly said.

Sam smiled sadly, his eyes wide and glistening. "Dad, I'm sorry," he said softly.

"Sorry for what, Sam?" John asked with confusion.

Sam glanced over at Dean, who watched him with confusion equal to his father, then turned back to John. "I'm sorry for not being the son you've wanted me to be and…and for mom. If it weren't for me, she'd probably still be alive," he replied broken heartedly.

John bit back a cry and looked over to meet Dean's shocked face. He looked back at Sam and shook his head. "Sam…you are in no way responsible for what happened to your mother and I don't want to ever have this conversation again, okay?" he sternly said.

Sam bit back tears as he stared up at his father. "Okay," he whispered.

John nodded his approval then rested his hand on Sam's shoulder. "And another thing, kiddo…you are exactly the son I want you to be. I wouldn't have you any other way," he said.

"But…"

"But nothing, Sam. You drive me crazy sometimes, but your questions always make me think. I may not tell you this, but your questioning, no matter how much it drives me nuts, has helped me on a lot of hunts. It's made me look at things from a different perspective," John said.

Sam cocked his head as he cautiously eyed his father. "Then, why do you get so mad at me?" he innocently asked.

John shook his head as he sat back on his heels. "It's not you I'm mad at, Sam…it just seems that way I guess. I'm mad that I didn't see what you did. I've been doing this a lot longer than you have and I should be able to see the different angles of it like you do. I get it in my head what I'm dealing with and then you come in and say that it could be this or it could be that and then I get mad, but then I stop and think and it's like…why didn't I think of that?"

"You've never told me that, Dad. I've just always thought that…"

"Another reason why I won't ever win Father of the Year, kiddo. I should have given you credit when you've deserved it and I'm sorry that I haven't," John interrupted. "Can you ever forgive your old man?" he asked.

Sam smiled softly and nodded. "Nothing to forgive, Dad," he said.

John's heart swelled as he looked from his youngest son to his oldest. "I love you boys so much," he said with a crack in his voice.

"Love you too, Dad," the brothers said together.

John smiled then pushed to his feet. "Dean, get your brother some Tylenol then you two get back to bed…neither one of you have gotten enough rest these past weeks," he commanded as he stepped out into the hallway.

"Yes, sir," Dean responded. He stood and dumped two pills out of the nearly empty bottle then grabbed another glass from the shelf above the sink. He filled the glass then helped Sam take the pills. John nodded approvingly then started down the hallway toward the stairs, but stopped when he saw someone blocking his path.

"Bobby…sorry for waking you up," John said apologetically. "I'm heading down to put on some coffee…won't be getting any more sleep tonight," he added when Bobby raised one eyebrow and cocked his head questioningly.

"How's the kid?" Bobby asked as he watched Dean and Sam come out of the bathroom, the elder brother walking close, but allowing his younger brother the independence he so wanted. John turned and watched as his boys disappeared into their bedroom, a soft smile on his lips.

"He's getting there I suppose. Still flinches sometimes when I talk or touch him, but he's getting better. This whole thing really messed him up. The things it said to him that he still believes," John said, his voice trailing off when his thoughts turned to what his baby boy had gone through. He turned when he felt a strong hand clasp his shoulder.

"Like you said, Johnny…he's getting there. It's just gonna take some time and a whole lot of reassuring on your part," Bobby said knowingly. "Now, you git in there with your boys until they're settled. I'll go git the coffee on," he commanded.

"You should go back to bed, Bobby. No reason for you to be up this early," John countered guiltily.

"Nonsense. You need to be in there with them right now and I'm not gonna get back to sleep anyway. Go…be with your boys."

"Thanks, Bobby…for everything," John said with an appreciative smile.

"Just git in there ya damn idjit!" Bobby snapped gruffly as he turned away and headed for the stairs, the older man mumbling under his breath about what John could only imagine. John chuckled to himself and headed toward the boy's room. Bobby stopped at the top of the stairs and turned just in time to see his friend disappear into the room and shut the door. He nodded approvingly as he headed down to the kitchen. John was finally putting his boys first and though Bobby knew that sooner or later the small family would be back in the hunting business, for right now they were just being a family and that was what they all needed the most.

"Bout damn time," Bobby said as he slowly descended the steps to start a brand new day.

THE END

Well folks...that's all she wrote! And by she I mean me ;) I hope you liked the ending...maybe a bit too sappy? I don't know...that's how I saw it in my head so that's what I wrote! Please let me know what you think and I'll start thinking about my next story! Thank you all so much for reading and taking the time to comment. It really does keep me going! Love to you all 3

Cindy