This is a really old story that I finally managed to finish! Bit of John whump because any Tracy whump is the best kind of whump. Plus what better way to drown my sorrows after watching Endgame?

John felt like crap.

Despite only having two beers earlier that evening, he felt drunk. Drunk enough that he was now stumbling down the corridor like a fool, the world spinning around him.

John just didn't feel right. Although he had the usual symptoms of alcohol consumption - a pounding headache, disorientation and nausea; all of which were exacerbated by the thundering dubstep music rocketing down the corridor, he felt desperately ill, like something wasn't right in his system.

Dizzily, he managed to clamber his way down the back exit corridor of the club before falling to his knees, barely managing to keep himself conscious as he crawled along the floor. He knew from an outsider's perspective he probably looked ridiculous but in his present state of mind he honestly didn't care what others thought of him. All he wanted to do was get away from the blaring music and go home.

John slowly dragged himself along the floor. Every slide took a huge amount of strain and discomfort but the blonde was determined to reach outside before inevitably having to throw up. He eventually reached the door at the end of the corridor and launched his body at it as a way of getting the door open. He fell through the open doorway and landed heavily outside. John rolled into a bush concealed by the exit door and slipped onto his back, hiccuping slightly.

He looked up at the night sky, his intoxicated state making the beautiful stars he'd normally be gazing at through his telescope on any other night bounce around in his vision like strobe lights - the brightness of which caused him to wince. John closed his eyes to alleviate the bile rising in his throat but the brief image of the spinning stars had gone to his head a lot quicker than he'd liked, making him feel like he was going to spew. The teen brought his hands down on his face as a last effort to try and calm himself and was thankful when his nausea eased a fraction.

The teen let out a pathetic whine, wanting nothing more than for someone to come and rescue him from this nightmare. In an ideal world, Scott would bring John back home where the rest of family would be waiting to make him feel better. Grandma would soon fix him up with one of her age-old remedies for drunkenness and Virgil would be by her side, assisting her with giving him the medicine and a reprimand to boot. His father would give John a lecture on his irresponsibility, alongside struggling to keep Scott out of his room - his oldest brother's overprotective instinct proving more of hindrance than a help, and the Terrible Two would be making jokes about him for acting so un-Johnlike. Sure he'd be the butt of Gordon and Alan's teasing for a few weeks afterwards, but the blonde would be able to handle that compared to what would happen if he went back to the solitude of his own flat.

If he could even make it back.

John felt his nausea rise up again and closed his eyes, trying to forget his current situation, but the loud music from inside the club seemed to be getting louder with every beat.

If only he had been stronger and resisted the bullying of his flatmates. Then he wouldn't be in this mess!

Normally the quiet one, John was not known for his outgoing nature. Going out clubbing was usually out of the question due to his introverted lifestyle, but the sixteen year old had just finished one of his important college assignments and actually felt like celebrating for once. John had been persuaded by his flatmates to join them for a casual drinking session in their shared apartment, which he happily accepted. He knew his grandmother frowned upon underage drinking, but his father was okay with it as long as he didn't have too many and was sensible, which he was.

At first the evening had been quite fun. Chilling out in his apartment, having a few drinks with his flatmates; it had all been moderately relaxing. Despite living with the boys for almost a year, John wasn't that close to his flatmates. Most of the time he didn't even see them, what with the duo always out on their college placements and everything, so John enjoyed getting to know them a little better, appreciating their company.

Clyde was interested in becoming a lawyer, something his parents had always frowned upon. The brunette's tipsy state had made it difficult for him to explain their reasoning properly, but John had just listened to his woes and nodded at the appropriate moments, giving him advice when necessary. On the other hand, George was still unsure what he wanted to do in life, saying that he still had plenty of time to think about potential careers during his time at college. Soon they turned to John, asking him about plans for his own future. The blonde himself wasn't too sure what he wanted to do either, but told them he was thinking about following in his father's footsteps and becoming an astronaut, amazing the pair of them.

A little later on, Clyde was in the middle of regaling the duo with stories of his love life when there was a loud knock at the door downstairs. George went to answer it and a few minutes later he returned with four scruffy looking strangers. They turned out to be George's older brother Brian, and three of his friends. The group swiftly invaded the lounge space. Brian crossed the room and sat on the sofa next to Clyde, loosely wrapping his arm around the younger teen in what he perceived was a friendly manner, and ignored the confused expression on Clyde's face. The other three crowded by George, sitting around him like lapdogs.

John quickly decided that he didn't like Brian, or his friends. After spending a good half an hour listening to the guy spout off about how he spent the day harassing women and threatening his local dealer, he knew his first impressions had been correct. John felt himself frown as the bully whipped out a self-made cigarette, quickly lighting it up before offering it to Clyde. At first Clyde declined, but after being egged on by George, the brunette took it from his new friend and inhaled it before handing it back to Brian. Brian took a puff and held it out to John, who politely declined his offer. After studying John's face for a moment, Brian took another puff of his cigarette and smirked, glancing towards his brother.

"Hey Georgie, you never told me you were room-mates with a celebrity!"

John seized up. Suddenly feeling more uncomfortable than ever, he found all six boys suddenly staring at him. Clyde studied his face closely, then gasped. "John! John Tracy! Now it makes sense that you want to become an astronaut! Your dad was a famous one!"

John inwardly sighed.

From then on, the evening steadily got worse. Brian invited more of his friends around their apartment, deciding that the small venue would be perfect for a party. George was all for it and Clyde was slowly persuaded to concede, leaving John outnumbered.

Sensing that he wouldn't like the incoming company, John quickly retreated back to his bedroom and locked himself inside, wanting nothing more to do with Brian and co. Naturally the troublemaker was friends with all the wrong sorts of people, and soon John's flat was full of dancing strangers, all laughing and joking as if they were having the best time of their lives.

At first John tried to ignore the pounding music and crowd noise by sticking his earphones in and blasting his own music, but it didn't work. Instead John ended up laying on his bed with a pillow wrapped around his head as he tried to gather his thoughts, wondering what his brothers would do if they were in the same position as him.

A little later on, John noticed that the music had quietened and there now seemed to be less voices than before. Assuming that meant everybody had gone, John unlocked his door and stuck his head into the corridor, looking to see if the coast was clear. Hearing the hushed voices of Clyde and George speaking inside the lounge, John took off down the corridor and walked into the room.

He gasped at the chaotic state. The table had been upturned and was now resting in the corner, covered in glasses and bottles of beer. The sofa had been shoved next to the windows and was covered in wine, obviously someone having spilt their drink on the cushions. There were discarded wrappers littering the floor and John felt a spike of anger, knowing he'd probably be the one left clearing the mess. He turned to his house-mates and opened his mouth to say something but was suddenly stopped when two large hands clapped down heavily on his shoulders, causing the blonde to flinch violently. He quickly tried to compose himself.

"So Johnny-boy, are you coming with us?"

Trying hard not to frown at the older boy's use of his family's nickname for him, John span around to look at Brian. "Where are you going?"

"To the Oceania Club down the road. I know the bartender and the bouncers so you guys won't have to show ID or anything." he grinned, seeming pleased with himself.

"I think I'll pass, thanks." John spoke quietly, turning to walk away. He was abruptly pulled back.

"Wrong answer, bud. I figured since you're so rich, you can buy our drinks for us!"

"W-What?"

"You heard! You're not going to disagree with me, are you? Me and the boys don't like to be disagreed with." Brian gestured over to his friends lurking in the doorway.

John paled and shook his head. It was no use. He soon found himself being escorted to his bedroom. The more he tried to protest against the thug, the angrier Brian got and the more his threats increased. Never being one to defend himself easily, John silently took the abuse. He grabbed his coat and wallet before being manoeuvered down the stairs and out of the building.

The group arrived at the club a few minutes later. They sat at the bar for a bit, John ordering their drinks, along with a tap water for himself, and sat awkwardly on a bar stool, wedged in-between Brian's cronies.

From that moment onwards, John's memory became blurred. He vaguely remembered being forced to buy snacks for George and Clyde, but after that his memory fizzled into darkness. How he ended up in the state he was in was anyone's guess.

The teen whimpered, moving his right hand onto his blazing forehead. He let out another pitiful whine. He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, his intentions clear. The screen was spinning around in his vision and made it difficult for him to find the application he was looking for. Once he had found his text messages, he clicked on the last recipient of one of his texts, typed in a short, incoherent message and pressed send before slowly slipping into unconsciousness, his phone dropping from his hand.

Virgil was sitting in his bedroom, sketching a picture of his mother under the dim light of his desk lamp. He was supposed to be in bed during this late hour, but drawing before he retired for the night often calmed him down and allowed him to reflect on the day's events.

Today ended up being a little stranger than normal. A new person at school had innocently asked him what his mother was like, not knowing that she was no longer alive, and it had caught him completely off guard. Thankfully, his friends were able to cover for him and quickly changed conversation topic, but it still managed to hurt him enough that he'd been dwelling on it all day.

Naturally Virgil had spent the evening trying to avoid Scott, not wanting him to find out he was upset. His older brother would do anything in his power to get the truth out of Virgil, and the artist didn't really want to be interrogated because he'd knew he'd eventually crack under the scrutiny of his closest brother and he just couldn't let that happen. So instead, Virgil had decided to lock himself in his room all evening and vent out his feelings on his sketchpad. His swift pencil strokes showed his annoyance. It wasn't that Virgil was angry at the new student, it was because of the awkward timing of the question more than anything. It would have to happen the week Scott had leave from the Air Force!

The young artist started to define his mother's chestnut locks when his phone buzzed beside him. Virgil took a quick look at the screen, expecting it to be a message from Scott telling him to go to bed. When his oldest brother was home, he often messaged Virgil as a warning before he came up to bed himself, but on this particular occasion Virgil felt like that wouldn't be enough and his older brother would come barging into his room to see how the artist was doing, already having sensed his despondent mood earlier in the day. Expecting his older brother to come pounding up the stairs any second, Virgil made to leap across his bed to check his door was locked before suddenly halting, doing a double take of the message.

It was from John. He clicked it open and frowned, eyes scanning over the message contents. It was brief and unlike his older brother's writing style. John often used full sentences and proper grammar, even in texts - being the perfectionist that he was, so the short and incoherent text he had just received was very disconcerting. Was John in trouble?

The fourteen year old texted John back and then tried ringing him, but he didn't pick up. He tried once again but still John didn't answer. Virgil felt fear rising into his chest. He picked up his phone and fled the room, rushing downstairs to where Scott was laying on the sofa, watching television in the lounge. Virgil suddenly didn't care that he'd been trying to avoid his brother was all night. This was important.

Scott looked up as his younger sibling entered, immediately noticing the worry etched on the artist's face. His heart skipped a beat. "Virgil? What's the matter?"

"I think there's something wrong with John."

Out of everything Virgil could have said, that was definitely not what Scott had expected. "What? How do you know?" he frowned, sitting up.

Virgil gave Scott his phone, biting his lip nervously. "He just sent me this."

Scott's eyes darted over the short message and his frown deepened. "I don't like that one bit. When did you talk to him last?" he passed Virgil his phone back.

"I spoke to him this afternoon over video chat. He was in good spirits - said he had finished one of his assignments and was going to celebrate with his room-mates."

Scott rubbed his temple. "Room-mates? I thought he didn't like them."

"Well, he doesn't, but he was in such a good mood he couldn't pass up their offer."

"Their offer?"

"I think they were going to have a small flat party. Well not even a party, really. Basically just a chat... thing. With alcohol. He was pretty excited about it."

"Alcohol, huh?" Scott rubbed his chin in thought, wondering if John had managed to get himself drunk despite their father's rules.

"His text mentions Oceana. What's that?"

"It's a club. Not the nice sort either."

"He obviously needs help, or he wouldn't have let us know otherwise. You know John." Virgil paused, looking over at the family photo proudly displayed on the mantlepiece. "What are we going to do, Scott? What if he's ill, or hurt?" he worriedly turned to his older brother.

"For one thing we don't panic. We know roughly where he is, so I'll go out and look for him." Scott declared, crossing the room and grabbing his coat. "The club is about thirty minutes away but there's no harm in checking his flat too. It's just down the road from the club."

"I'm coming too!" Virgil cried, running across the room and reaching for his own coat.

Scott grabbed his brother's arm and shook his head. "Sorry Virg, but I need you to stay here and look after the kids. Besides, it'll be best for you to stay here and start getting some stuff together for John. He's probably drunk so will need rehydrating."

Virgil nodded his head. "Alright, but any problems then call me and I'll be right there. I'll take the bike."

"Alright." Scott grabbed his car keys and left the house, hoping that his immediate younger brother wasn't in too much trouble.

When Scott pulled up outside the Oceana nightclub he couldn't see any obvious signs of his brother's whereabouts. Having no luck at John's apartment, the search had led him back to the nightclub. Because of this, Scott had expected to see John sitting outside in plain sight, but the lack of his presence at all was extremely worrying.

He frowned and switched off the ignition, removing the keys from the dashboard. Scott slammed the door of his car and locked it, beginning to march up the path leading to the club, dodging a few drunk students on the way in. He pushed through a crowd of dancing teens in the foyer and continued his way towards the bar, hoping to find John there.

Instead he found a short dark haired figure that he recognized as one of John's flatmates, having met him once when John first moved into the apartment. He frowned and strode over to him, yanking the teen's arm. Clyde looked at the pilot from over his shoulder. "Can I help you, bro?"

"Where's John?" Scott snapped.

"Who?"

"John! My brother!" Scott snarled, swivelling the guy around in his seat so he was facing him head-on. Scott didn't have time for his blasé attitude.

The younger teen didn't seem too fazed by this action, but his red-rimmed eyes suggested he wasn't fully with it and consequently wasn't able to take what Scott was saying seriously anyway. "Oh, that guy? Last time I saw him he was in the club lounge with Ted, George and Brian Kendrick."

"Brian Kendrick?" Scott felt his temper spike at the mention of the familiar name, knowing him all too well. Brian was a bully who was in a few of Scott's classes in middle school. He always had it in for Scott, but ended up being expelled halfway through school after pushing a student down the stairs, breaking his leg. Scott had never seen him again after that, so was confused to why John was allegedly hanging around with the troublemaker.

"Where's the club lounge?" he demanded.

The teenager glanced up and pointed towards a pink neon sign at the other side of the room. "Over there, but I doubt you'd get in. It's reserved for Brian and his friends only. The same reason I'm not allowed in there. Jerks." Clyde finished the rest of his drink and stood up, swaying slightly before heading towards the exit. "This was a lame idea anyway."

Scott shook his head and soon turned on his heel, starting towards the club lounge. He arrived to see two hefty lads standing outside the door with their arms crossed, playing bouncers for Brian. Scott stopped before them. "You two gonna let me in or what?"

"This lounge is for members only."

Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm trying to find my brother and I heard he was in here. If you'd just let me pass-"

"You ain't wanted here, flyboy."

"Tracy?" Brian's voice floated through the doorway. Scott used this opening to push past the goons and into the room. He glared as he came face to face with the enemy.

"Kendrick."

Brian snorted, "Haven't seen you since middle school."

"For good reason. Where's John?"

"Blondie? He left about thirty minutes ago. Went back home."

"No he didn't. I've already checked his apartment." Scott replied bluntly, spotting his brother's familiar patterned wallet in Brian's hand. "Now tell me, Kendrick, why do you have John's wallet?"

Brian shrugged his shoulders and threw the wallet over to George, who caught it, giving his brother an anxious look, as if willing his brother not to do anything stupid.

Brian smirked and advanced towards Scott, signalling for his friends to do the same. Scott rolled his eyes and quickly dove towards Brian, taking him by surprise at the sudden movement. Scott punched him in the face and ducked as Brian's friends catapaulted towards him, quickly dispatching them both before turning towards Brian again, who had now gotten to his feet.

"You're going to pay for that, Tracy." he seethed, running at Scott once more. The two brawled for about a minute or so but Scott managed to win the upper hand, knocking Brian down with another killer punch. The thug groaned, clutching his stomach in agony. Scott glared down at him.

"Hurt my brother again, and I'll kill you!" he snarled, kicking Brian once more for good measure.

Scott strode over to the trembling George and swiped John's wallet from the cowering teen, turning on his heel and stepping over the numerous bodies now littering the floor. He rubbed his busted lip and left the room, walking towards the fire exit, the only place he hadn't searched for his missing brother.

Scott sailed down the corridor and stopped by the door. He slowly opened it and called John's name, glancing around for any sign of his younger brother. At first Scott couldn't see any, so turned to walk back inside, but as he pulled the door open, he heard a low moan. He frowned and swung the door shut, gasping when he saw a familiar figure sticking out of the thorn bush.

Scott swore when he saw John's condition and immediately knelt by his side. "John! Johnny, are you okay? John, wake up! Answer me! John..." he shook his brother, trying to get him to respond, but the blonde's eyes remained closed, droplets of sweat running down his forehead.

After a few moments, John stirred and slowly opened his eyes. "S-Sco...tt?"

"Yeah it's me, I'm here. Are you alright?"

"No..." John winced, trying to sit up. Scott helped push his brother into a sitting position and frowned as John suddenly turned and threw up in the bush behind them. Scott gently patted his brother's back as the blonde continued to retch, pulling out a tissue from inside his coat. Once John had stopped heaving, Scott wiped his mouth dry with the tissue and held a hand against his forehead.

"John, you're burning up! How much have you had to drink?"

"Two... pints earlier." John forced out. "M-My wallet..."

"I've gotten it back, don't worry. My main concern right now is you."

"I'm not drunk..." John almost pleaded. "N-Not drunk..."

"Try not to talk. I'll get you out of here, Johnny." Scott grabbed John's fallen phone. He pocketed it before leaning down, lifting his brother into his arms, knowing that he'd be unable to move himself.

Scott jogged back over to his car. He quickly unlocked it and opened the right hand side back door, placing John across the back seats. Making sure his brother was secure, Scott jumped into the driver's side and started the car up. Quickly checking his mirrors to see if there wasn't any oncoming traffic, he pulled away, wanting to get his brother back home as fast as he could without breaking the speed limit.

Back at home, Virgil was anxiously waiting for Scott to return. He had prepared some things for his blonde brother, including a glass of water, tablets, towels and a bucket, just in case John failed to make it to the toilet in time. He wasn't sure what state to expect John in - he'd only ever seen one person drunk before and that had been Scott, having previously snuck back in after curfew following a small drinking session with his girlfriend of the week, along with her older brothers. His father had not been happy when he found out to say the least, but John couldn't be THAT bad, could he?

The door opened, causing Virgil to stand up. The young artist gasped at John's clammy appearance when Scott carried him in. He was unconscious, but sweating profusely. The older teen hurriedly placed the blonde on the sofa and checked his temperature again.

"What happened?" Virgil inquired, gazing at his motionless brother.

"I don't know, but he's burning up! Get me an ice pack!" Scott scowled, hastily removing John's jacket and tossing it to the floor. He quickly rolled up the blonde's shirt sleeves to check if he had been injected with anything, but much to his relief, he couldn't see any needle marks puncturing his arms. He removed his own jacket and knelt beside the sofa, feeling John's cheeks.

Virgil soon ran back into the room holding a bag of frozen peas and handed it to Scott who placed it on John's forehead. The blonde mumbled slightly at the touch, tilting his head slightly. Scott passed John some pills and the blonde just about managed to swallow them. Virgil sat beside John and placed his hand on his cheeks, briskly recoiling at the unexpected heat emitting from his face. "He's boiling!"

"He's drunk."

Virgil frowned, "Are you sure? He looks worse than drunk to me!"

"He told me that he had two drinks but he could've been lying to me."

"John wouldn't lie. Not when it really mattered. Anyway, since he's underage, he wouldn't have been served, right?"

Scott shook his head, "Not necessarily, but that doesn't mean to say he didn't have a soda or something. Maybe someone slipped something into his drink."

Virgil gasped, "You mean someone could've drugged him?"

Scott nodded, "Yeah. Roofied. Would explain why he's so out of it."

"So... he could have been poisoned? What should we do? Call 911? The hospital? Dad?"

Scott shook his head, readjusting the bag of peas on John's head. "Not dad, no, I don't want to bother him since he has that important meeting later on."

"But Scott, this is serious!" Virgil cried.

"And so is his meeting. He's already put it off twice!"

"Hey, what's all the fuss about?" A tired voice complained. The two boys turned their heads to see Gordon standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. He let out a yawn and approached them, eyes widening when he saw John zonked out on the sofa. The pre-teen suddenly became alert. "J-Johnny? What happened to him?" he padded over to the sofa, leaning against the arm of it and getting a clearer look of his second oldest brother. He frowned worriedly.

"He was out at a club and we think someone may have put something nasty into his drink. He texted me so Scott went to fetch him." Virgil replied, guiding Gordon over to the chair opposite John to give Scott more room. He sat down and pulled the auburn haired child into his lap. "But he should be fine once he gets the badness out of his system. Don't worry, squirt."

"John was out clubbing?" Gordon frowned. That didn't sound like John at all.

"Yeah, strange, I know. But I'm sure he'll be able to tell us more about it when he wakes up."

"Okay." Gordon conceded, hugging his plush fish tighter to his chest.

Scott gave a subtle nod of the head to Virgil, thankful that the middle child had taken it upon himself to preoccupy Gordon. Scott placed a hand on John's forehead again, noticing that his temperature was beginning to plummet. He groaned, dropping the bag of peas to the floor, startling the other two who had been deep in quiet conversation.

"What's up, Scott?"

Scott sighed, running a hand through his dark locks, "His fever shot down."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Not when it's falling so low it makes Antarctica look warm." He rolled John's sleeves down. "He could do with a blanket. Do one of you mind getting one for him?"

"Don't worry Scott, I got one!"

The three boys turned their heads to greet the owner of the newest voice who trundled into the room, dragging his fluffy blanket behind him. He proudly walked over to Scott and threw the blanket at the older boy who went about wrapping John like a burrito. Alan took a lingering look at his fellow blonde before heading over to Virgil and Gordon, taking up residence on Virgil's right knee.

"Gordy woke me up and then I heard you all talking. Will Johnny be okay?"

"He will, sprout. In time." Virgil replied, ruffling Alan's blonde curls.

"You gonna phone daddy?" he asked.

"I won't, but Scott will. He'll let him know that John's unwell, and then dad will come back home as soon as he can."

"Okay." Alan chirped, leaning his head against his brother.

Scott conceded. "Alright. Virgil, you call grandma and tell her to come on over if she can. I'll call dad to let him know what's going on." Scott picked up Virgil's mobile phone, throwing it over to his brother. Gordon caught it and handed it to Virgil, who started to dial in their grandmother's number. Scott did the same with his father's, but paused when John started to uncontrollably cough. Gordon darted over to Scott and caught his phone as the older boy started to pat John's back, calming his frantic coughing fit.

After a few tense moments, John stopped coughing and woke up, moaning pathetically at Scott.

"Scott..." John whimpered, doubling over in pain. "Hurts."

Scott peered down at him worriedly, holding John's hands in his own. He looked over at Virgil, who was just ending the call to their grandmother.

"She's on her way." Virgil said, causing Scott to sigh with relief. At least their grandmother would have more of an idea how to look after John. He turned back down to his brother and placed a hand on his forehead.

Gordon walked back over to Virgil and finished dialling their father's number, placing the receiver to his ear. After a few rings, his father picked up.

"Hello?"

"Daddy?"

"Gordon? Are you alright? What are you doing up so late, son?"

"We need you to come home, daddy. Johnny is real sick and Scottie is upset because he doesn't know what's wrong with him."

"Can you put Scott or Virgil on please, Gordon?"

Gordon passed the phone to Virgil. Virgil composed himself before speaking. "Hello? Dad?"

"Virgil, is it true? How is he?"

Virgil looked over at John's still form. "Not good. Y-Yeah, um... he went out to a club and we think he's been roofied." He paused, looking over at his lifeless brother. "We're worried, dad."

"Look son, as much as I want to get out of this meeting and come home, I can't. I'll phone your grandma and get her to come over to you."

"There's no need for that, I've already called her. She's on her way."

"Good. Just keep John comfortable. I'll be home as soon as I can. You've done the right thing by calling me."

"We will dad. Take care."

"You too. I'll see you all in the morning."

"Bye."

Virgil ended the call and slid his phone onto the table. His father had taken the news remarkably calm, but then again, this was his dad he was thinking of.

About thirty minutes later there was a knock at the door. Gordon and Alan went to answer it and returned moments later with their grandmother in tow, holding a dozen bags. She smiled tersely at Virgil as Scott crossed the room and took the bags off her, lowering slightly so that she could give him a peck on the cheek. "Hey Grandma. He's over here."

Scott led her to the sofa John was laying on and Grandma manoeuvred around the arm of the couch, running her hand down John's pale face. She sighed and immediately got to work treating him.

Virgil came over to her. "We think he's been roofied."

"Was he out drinking?"

"Yes, but he told me he only had two pints, and that's not enough to get him in a state like this." Scott supplied, rubbing his head.

"I see. Scott, would you mind putting the little ones up to bed? It's way past their bedtime and I know they won't want to sleep in knowing that their father's on the way back home."

"But we're not tired!" Two voices chorused back.

"Besides, we wanna watch Johnny get well again!" Gordon pouted.

"Grandma's right guys. Come on up you two. John will be fine in the morning. You'll see." Scott scooped both boys into his arms and began carrying them upstairs.

Virgil knelt next to his grandma and blinked as she handed him a lemon. "What do you want me to do with this?"

"You're going to peel the lemon and squeeze it into a glass for me." she replied. "Lemon juice is a good way to enhance nausea."

"So by enhancing his nausea, he'll throw up and hopefully get the bad drugs out of his system?"

Grandma nodded her head. "Pass me the bucket please, Virgil."

Virgil did so without question. He had a feeling this would be a LONG night.

The Next Day

John winced as a stream of light poured in his room through a slit in his curtains, hitting him in the face as he woke. He frowned and rolled over in his bed, moaning as his head started to fizzle and a wave of sickness briefly washed over him. He went to sit up but decided against it, knowing that the pain in his head would probably worsen.

A few moments later his father entered his room, holding a small lap tray in his hands. He placed it on the bedside table and took John's hand in his own.

"Dad?"

"Good morning son. How are you feeling?"

"Crappy." he replied, rubbing his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I must admit I feel better than I did last night. You gave us all a fright, John."

John lowered his head. "I'm sorry dad. I didn't mean to scare you. Honestly I can't really remember much of what happened last night. Aren't you supposed to be in a meeting?"

"You were drugged, John." Jeff said, ignoring his question.

John gasped, "I was drugged? How? What with?"

"Diazepam. Basically known as Valium." came a voice over his dad's shoulder. John looked up as Virgil strode into the room. He noted the exhaustion on his brother's face.

"Are you alright, Virg?"

"Oh yeah, I'm just dandy. Missed about three hours sleep last night and then was woken up early by Scott's alarm clock. I swear he has that thing set to a million decibels on purpose," he replied irritably, rubbing his eyes. "How are you feeling now?"

"Not great." John admitted, shifting so he was sitting upright. He winced as a wave of dizziness hit him. "Why were you up three hours last night?"

"Because of you, bro." Scott answered for Virgil as he entered the room. "He and grandma were up making sure you were alright. You were real sick, especially when I first found you in the bush."

"In a bush?"

"Yeah, and what's with you hanging around with Brian Kendrick, eh? He's a right bully!"

"Oh yeah, that." John exhaled, rubbing his arm nervously.

"You don't need to explain anything to me, son. Scott's already informed me of what happened."

"Yeah, when we were in the car and you were lucid you told me about him and his friends wrecking your place, then basically kidnapping you. Made me all the more happy to have laid him out."

John gasped, "You laid him out?"

"Of course I did! Never liked the guy anyway."

"You lay out all the guys you don't like, Scott?" Virgil quipped.

"No, or else you would've been laid out long since!" Scott threw back, grinning at his younger sibling.

"I guess moving away from home was a bad idea." John sighed, still feeling guilty about what had happened.

"You're always welcome back, son." Jeff smiled kindly.

"Thanks dad." The blonde gave him a small smile.

"PILE ON!"

John braced himself as Gordon and Alan suddenly flew into the room, diving onto his bed. They both landed on John's chest and hugged him tightly. John smiled widely at his youngest brothers as they barraged him with questions.

"Are you okay Johnny?"

"You feeling better now, Johnny?"

"Did you get drugged, Johnny?"

"Why were you at a club, Johnny?"

John couldn't help but smile at their enthusiasm. "I'm much better now that you two are here."

"Yay! Hear that daddy? He loves us the most!" Alan squeaked, giving his brother a big hug.

Jeff rolled his eyes and grinned at his youngest, before returning his attention to John. "Grandma's downstairs making breakfast, so if you feel up to it you better hurry because Scott's already been eyeing up the pancakes." He stood up, making his leave.

"I was not!"

"How come I caught you stealing one then, flyboy?" Virgil asked.

"I was not stealing it! I wanted to give it to Alan!"

"Give what to Alan?" Gordon entered the conversation. "I want whatever he's having!"

"Shut up, Gordon."

"You shut up! I'm hungry!"

"Race you downstairs?"

"Sure thing! Three, two, one, go!"

"Hey, I wasn't ready! No fair!"

John smiled at the scene before him as he shifted himself out of bed.

It was good to be home.