Ages, 24 - Supernatural, PG-13
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Ages, John - 49 ( Click for 12, Click for 13, Click for 14, Click for 15, Click for 16, Click for 17, Click for 18, Click here for Sam 14, Click for 19, Click for 20, Click for Sam 16, Click here for 21, Click for Sam 17, Click for 22, Click here for Sam 18, Click here for 23, Click here for Sam 19, Click here for 23.5, Click here for 23.8.9, Click here for John, 49)
Characters/Pairing: Dean, Sam, John, Dean/OFC, hints of Dean/Sam, references to memory of Dean/John(overall story includes Sam/Dean, Dean/John)
Rating: PG-13 (mostly for langauge, some themes)
Word Count: 3573
Summary: AU - Dean's POV. Dean is 24, a husband, a father...clean of the drugs that have kept him from seeing the supernatural things around him, and trying to find his way back to normal...but normal isn't exactly a part of the life Winchester.
A/Ns & Warnings: Overall this is story is very dark stuff. This particular installment moves us forward, after dwelling so long in that one year. There is no explicit sex at all in this piece...though it is implied and hinted at. There is also memory of cutting, self mutilation in this section.
He was twenty-four years old the night he sat up in the living room of his house, holding his son and keeping vigil. Daniel was six months old. Exactly six months old. He looked up as Kaitlyn crept down the stairs, her smile light.
“You coming to bed?” Her voice was soft, her hand on his face warm.
“Not yet.” Daniel was asleep in his arms, and she kissed his forehead before sliding down next to Dean. “He’s too perfect.”
“Still worried?”
Dean nodded. “I’ll be fine. Just not taking any chances.”
In the months since he had returned to his wife and son, Dean had fought his way back to normal. He had to re-define normal to do it, factoring in visions and dreams and the supernatural sight. He’d kept his father busy on hunts. Kept his son close and Kaitlyn closer. They’d even set up a nursery in his office at the restaurant so they could keep Daniel with them. This was just one more hurdle.
“My father called this afternoon.” Kaitlyn said after a while. “Wants us over for dinner this weekend.”
Dean nodded. “Sure. That would be nice.” He made a face that wasn’t nice, then nudged her. “Here, take the baby.”
“Dean?”
He shook his head and deposited Daniel in her arms. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and leaned forward, trying to breathe through the worst of the pain as his head swam with images. His father, a demon, blood. Just as he was straightening up, the phone rang. “Yeah, Sam. I saw. I’ve got it.”
“Got what?”
Dean held up his hand and Kaitlyn bit her lip. His fingers dialed his father’s cell phone. “Where are you? Don’t….Dad, listen. It’s a demon. We both saw it, you can’t handle it alone. I’m coming to you. Don’t argue. I’ll be there by noon. In the meantime, don’t do anything.”
He set the phone down and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”
“Your father?”
Dean nodded and let out a slow breath. “I’ll leave at first light. Be back tomorrow. Stephen can handle the kitchen.”
“Sam?”
Dean made a face and tried not to think about Sam. He sent him away. He hurt him and sent him away. They’d spoken a half dozen times since, but Sam didn’t come home for Christmas, and their conversations never lasted more than a few words to confirm a vision or pass along information.
“He’s fine. Had the same vision.”
“You really should go see him.” Kaitlyn got up, cradling Daniel. “You know he loves you. You know he’s done everything he can to make things right.”
Dean closed his eyes and crossed his arms as though he could protect himself from the truth. “I know, Kate. I know. I just…It’s so hard.”
“Well, my grandmother used to tell me that if it isn’t hard, it isn’t worth doing.”
Dean put his arms around her, pulling his family close. “What did I ever do to deserve you, Mrs. Winchester?”
“Who says you deserve me?” she said, standing on her toes to kiss his nose. “I just keep you around to cook for me and make love to me.”
“Lucky me.”
“You know it.”
It was 11:30 when Dean pulled into the motel parking lot, stopping beside his father’s truck. He knocked on the door and started when his father answered. He was beat up, his face bruised, one eye swollen shut. “You look like shit.”
John laughed and let him into the room. “Maybe, but you should see the other guy.”
Dean shook his head. “Did you get it…the werewolf?”
John nodded. “Yes, Dean. I got him. I was just getting back to the motel when you called last night. Gonna tell me what that was about?”
“Demon attack…I mean…a vision of a demon attacking. You were getting ripped to shreds.”
“Well, I’ve seen no sign of demon activity, and I haven’t left the room.”
Dean turned, looking around the room. Something wasn’t right. “I’ve been here before.” He couldn’t place it. This wasn’t the room he saw in his vision, but he knew it somehow. John’s hand clapped his shoulder as he moved past Dean to return to the knife he’d been sharpening. In that touch, Dean placed the room and backed away. “Fuck.”
John turned, concerned. “Dean?”
“It was here. We were…here…and…Sam.” He took a deep breath. Sam had slept here in this bed near the bathroom…and woke to the sounds of Dean and his father…He shook his head.
John was coming closer. Dean held up a hand. He’d thought he’d dealt with this. Pushed it away, buried it. John stopped, but didn’t look away. “I think it’s time we talked about it Dean. Obviously not talking isn’t making it better.”
Dean closed his eyes and nodded. He didn’t want to…how do you tell your father that he fucked you because you both thought it would help? He couldn’t keep freezing up like this….couldn’t keep pushing his father away because of something he hadn’t actually done this time around. “You better…put the knife…away. Put it away. I’ll tell you…just…” He licked his lips and rubbed his hands against his jeans. “No temptation, okay?”
John looked down at the knife in his hand, then up at Dean. “Yeah, okay. Give me a minute.”
Dean watched him putter, putting the knife back in it’s sheath, gathering up various other pointy or sharp things and dumping them in a duffle bag before taking it out to his truck. When John closed the door behind him Dean held up a hand to keep him there by the door. “This is…just stand over there. Keep your distance for now.” He sank onto the bed…the one Sam had slept in, not the other…and drew his knees up to his chest.
“Things were so fucked up…I was so…” He shook his head. “I was clean. You grabbed Sam and I, forced me to detox. It was bad. But…we got through it…I got my feet back under me at Bobby’s, while you and Sam hunted. He bagged a werewolf at 14. You were so proud.” Dean cleared his throat. “I…you…God…I was cutting myself. You broke in to the bathroom.”
Dean closed his eyes. He could feel the blade slice through his skin. “It…was…I needed it…to get release.” He didn’t look up, but he could hear the change in his father’s breathing. It was faster, shallow. “I…made you…I came on the floor in the bathroom…with your hand pressed against the cut in my thigh.” Dean’s stomach churned and he thought he might be sick.
“The next night we were here…in this room. Sam…fell asleep…you…I crawled into bed with you…we…” He could feel it…the need, the shame…
There was no way he could go back to sleep, or pretend. The dreams rushed into him and John’s hand moved, down between his legs. “Dean.” His voice was low, rumbling into Dean’s stomach. Dean exhaled and moved, just enough, rubbing himself against the cock touching his ass. A soft moan escaped him and he closed one hand over his father’s, gripping his cock through the thin cotton of his boxers. Together they stroked Dean’s cock slowly, their breathing syncing up as John rubbed himself against Dean to the same rhythm.
“Dean.”
He looked up. His father’s face was pale, his hands shaking. “Enough. I understand.”
Dean shook his head. “No. No. It was me. I…was fucked up…I…”
John took a deep breath. “I’m still your father. I should have…stopped it.”
Dean shook his head. “You…were…fuck, I don’t know.” He unfolded himself and stood. “It was my fault. You wanted so badly to make up for…everything…I was weak…screwed up…and it was bad…I told you it was bad…” He paced between the beds and looked up at his father. “…and then the next day…Sam was dead and you were possessed, and it was all my fault…” Dean rubbed a shaky hand over his face. “And he offered me a way out…a way to take it all away.”
“I can’t bring myself to regret it.” Dean said after a long silence. “I would never have Kaitlyn…Sam would be dead…Jenny too. As fucked up as this is, as bad as I let it get…it was worth it.”
“I can see that.”
Dean blew out a breath, tried to equalize himself. “I should have…told you…before now. I couldn’t…not with the…the way I made you cut me, not with the way it all came back.”
Unconsciously, Dean’s hand wiped across his right thigh, over the scars. He still wanted it sometimes…craved the feeling of a sharp instrument cutting through his flesh…though never with Kaitlyn. She had a way of turning him around, of making everything soft and good and enough. But now, here…with this between them, he could taste the smell of blood.
“I’m sorry. I don’t even know when it started…why. I just…” Dean licked his lips and turned to look at his father. “Sometimes the pain…helps.”
John nodded. “I want to show you something, Dean.” He rolled up his left sleeve and exposed a series of jagged scars on his upper arm. “I was younger than you. It was back before it was a recognized thing. I was in the marines. I know about pain helping you cope.”
Dean stared. There were close to a dozen scars. “I stopped when I met your mother. I just didn’t seem to need it anymore.”
Slowly he nodded, pulling his hand away from his thigh. “So, there’s hope for me yet?” he asked with as much humor as he could find.
“Why don’t you tell me about this demon?”
Dean shrugged. “Not much to say…didn’t see it really. Saw you. Saw blood and body parts. Not here though.” He looked around the room. “We should go. Something still isn’t right.”
John nodded and reached for his other bag. “Yeah, okay. Where to?”
“Home, for now. We need to call Sam…figure out if he saw something I didn’t. See if we can place this in the timeline.”
“I’ve got something to show you.” Dean said as he led his father into the house late that night. “In the basement.” He switched on a light as he opened the door, ducking his head and showing his father into the laundry room turned war room. A map of the city covered one board, red and black push pins stuck in at places. Next to it a map of the country. On the table in front of the two was Dean’s journal.
“I’ve been trying to make sense of it…but truth is, my handwriting sucks and the notes are all so cryptic.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “The black indicates places where I noted demonic activity. Red indicates ghosts or other…things.” He skimmed his hand just above the pins. “I was hoping we’d see a pattern…but so far…”
He shook his head and looked at the other map. “White is successful hunts, things we’ve gone to because of the visions. Blue is stuff that’s familiar and I’m not sure why.” He turned the board over. White paper covered the other side, a line starting on the left, breaking into two parallel lines then re-converging into one. Notes dotted the length. “I’m starting to figure out which demon was which. The red…that’s the one that killed Mom…the one that killed Cassie. The blue, that’s the other one…I think.”
“I thought you were trying to put this in its place in your life. Looks like you’ve been working hard.”
Dean shrugged. “Looks like this is it’s place…it’s all up in my life, I gotta be all up in it. I won’t let this tear my family apart. Not any more.”
John skimmed over the timeline, particularly the top half of the parallel section. “This the…first time?”
“Yeah. It isn’t all there…but a lot of it.”
“This is good Dean. Real good.”
“I figure, when Sam gets back he can add stuff from his journal, his visions. Maybe it clarifies things.”
John yawned and Dean nodded. “I think Kate made up Sam’s room for you. Let’s call it a night.”
The nightmare woke him several hours later, wrenching screams from him before he could stop them. All around him things were shaking with his emotion, the mirror on the door rattling. Sam was in trouble…he could hear him, yelling out for help. Kaitlyn reached for him and he pulled away, reaching blindly for the phone. “Sam? Sam…pick up the damn phone. Okay…look…I can’t explain. Don’t leave Jessica alone. I’m on my way. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“Dean?”
“Could you…get me on a flight out to San Francisco? I don’t know what’s going on…Jessica’s…I think she’s going to be targeted…and Sam…” Dean shook his head to clear it of the images…he had to get there…or Sam would die trying to save her. “I don’t think Daddy Demon is going to hold back anymore. We need to circle the wagons…get everyone inside.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Take a shower, wake up. Tell Dad. We need to call Jenny too.”
Kaitlyn sat up, reaching for him even as he stood up and reached for his robe. “Dean…at least tell me what you saw.”
“He’s going to burn her…just like he did Mom.”
He knew he was too late before he even got to the street. Sirens wailed and people were milling around and he couldn’t get close enough to see. Sam. His heart was pounding as he parked the rental car and pushed and pulled his way through the crowd. “Sam!” He was yelling for him before he was close enough to even be heard.
There was smoke. Flames licked at what he assumed was the bedroom window. He could see its echo in his head, nightmare images of Sam trying to pull Jessica from the ceiling…the smell of flesh burning…Sam screaming…
“Dean…”
He turned, his eyes searching the crowd before they found him…on a gurney near the ambulance. “Sam.”
Dean’s eyes swept over him, taking in the damage. His hands had been hastily bandaged and there was blood on his face. “Sam? You okay?”
“Dean…Jess…the demon got her…she’s gone…I was…I hunting…I should have been here.”
Dean shook his head. “No, Sam. I don’t think we could have stopped this one.”
“I’m sorry sir, we really need to get him in to the ER.”
Dean nodded. “I’ll ride with him, if that’s okay.”
“Who are you?”
“His brother.”
Dean paced outside the exam room, waiting for the doctor to emerge from examining Sam. When he finally did, Dean jumped. “Well?”
“Your brother is very lucky. His hands are burned, the left one has substantially more damage. But he should recover. I’m going to recommend he stay overnight and I’m also sending for a psych eval.”
Dean’s breath caught in his throat. “What? Why?”
“His girlfriend died in that fire, Mr. Winchester, and her blood was all over his face. He’s saying that’s because she bled on him from the ceiling.” The doctor looked genuinely sympathetic. “The police are going to want to talk to him too.”
“Okay, look…can I see him at least?”
“You have about twenty minutes before the psych consult gets here.”
Dean thanked him and pushed into Sam’s room. His brother’s head rolled toward him and it was obvious they had pumped him full of pain meds. “How you doing, Sammy?”
“I’m…cookies…she made me cookies…”
Dean shook his head and pulled out his phone. “Dad, it’s Dean. Jessica’s dead, Sam’s been hurt. They’re sending in a psych consult…and they’ve got him so doped up on pain meds he’ll tell them everything. I’m have to get him out of here.”
Dean ran a hand over Sam’s face and shook his head. “I know…I know…I’m not leaving him. The doctor said something about the police. They’re going to think he did something.” He sighed. “No, we can’t. I don’t know. Maybe I can talk us out of it.”
“Dean?” Sam’s eyes went wide and he looked scared. Dean looked around the room but didn’t see anything.
“I gotta go Dad.” He pocketed the cell phone and reached for his brother. “What is it Sam?”
“Jess…it killed Jess…it said…god Dean…” Sam’s bandaged hands closed over Dean’s. “I…didn’t love her, Dean…she wasn’t you…could never be you…it killed her anyway.”
Dean stroked Sam’s forehead with his free hand. “I’m going to get you out of here, Sammy….just hold on.”
He went to check the hallway. The doctor was coming back a young woman in tow. Dean went to stand by Sam. “Ah yes, Mr. Winchester, Dr. Lambin. Doctor, this is the brother I was telling you about.”
Dean took a deep breath. He needed to be strong, for Sam. “If you’re going to evaluate my brother, I expect you’ll wait until the pain meds have worked through his system.”
He looked down on the diminutive doctor. “Right now he’s so high he’ll tell you just about anything. He just told me he was a cookie. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t really think he’s a cookie.” He crossed his arms and tried to look pissed, instead of worried.
“Dr. Morris, did you call me in here after feeding this man drugs?”
Morris looked baffled. “He was in pain.”
“I can’t make a proper determination like that.”
“You also can’t just let him be in pain.” Dean said, his hand falling protectively on Sam. He eyed both doctors, looking for signs of possession, but there wasn’t any. “My brother just lost his girlfriend and his home. He’s been injured. He’s in pain.”
“Now, I came to California to bring him home. We have something of a family emergency.”
“You’ll have to let the police decide that. They’re outside waiting for him.”
Dean nodded slowly, then looked to Sam. “I’ll be right back Sammy. You just rest.”
He spotted them as soon as he turned into the waiting area, put on his best smile and stuck out his hand. “Officers, I’m Dean Winchester. Sam is my brother.”
“Mr. Winchester, Officer Harrold and I’m Officer Marony. Is your brother up to answering a few questions.”
“He’s pretty doped up right now. If you want to know about cookies or his underwear size, now’s the right time. Anything else would have to wait.”
Marony smiled. “He got burned pretty good from what I saw.”
Dean nodded. “Doctor’s say he was lucky. I don’t think lucky is the right word. He came home from a trip, found his girlfriend dead and his place on fire. Don’t seem lucky to me.”
Harrold flipped open his notebook. “According to eyewitnesses, Sam came home just after dark. The first flames appeared in the window shortly after.”
Dean took a deep breath. “He was away on a hunting trip.”
“Now, Scott Tannin was the first person on the scene, a neighbor. He says he pulled your brother out of the burning room.”
“My brother, the hero.” Dean crossed his arms and chewed on his lip. “If he thought he could save her, he wouldn’t leave willingly. He loved her. Was thinking about proposing.” Not a lie, an embellishment. He’d gotten good with that in the years of dealing with MacAfferty.
Marony glanced at his partner and nodded. “At this point, we’re not going to be considering your brother a suspect. There was a similar crime a few months ago on the other side of town. We’re inclined to believe they’re related.”
“So, I can take him home?”
“Yes, sir, you can. If things change, we’ll contact you.”
“You do that.”
It was nearly three hours before he could get them out of there. He cajoled Sam into a cab and set them to find the rental car. From there, he set them on the freeway for the airport. “So, we missed our flight, but we should be able to get another one.” Now that they’d talked their way past the police, he figured flying was safe enough and would get them home before the next night.
“No…Dean…Pull over.”
“What?”
“Just pull over.” Sam was starting to come out of the dopey head space the meds had put him in. “We can’t fly.”
Dean guided the car off the road and into a parking lot. “Why can’t we fly, Sam?”
“We just can’t. Demons…”
“Sam.”
“Serious. Let’s just drive. You and me. Road trip.” Sam looked spooked.
“Long drive Sammy.”
Sam turned serious green eyes on his brother. “It will give me time to make it up to you.”
Dean shook his head and reached out a hand to caress Sam’s face. “No need, baby brother. No need.” There was something else behind his eyes, something frightened. “I’m the one who should be making things up to you. What I did…what I said…I’m sorry, Sammy.”
“I…had a dream about an airplane crashing. I…just imagine, Dean…there’s no control…anyone can be possessed…pilots, air traffic controllers…”
Dean made a face. He hadn’t thought about that. “Still a long ass drive.”
“It will give us time to talk.”
Dean looked at him.
Sam grinned. “Okay then…it will give me time to fuck you senseless?”
Dean laughed and pulled them back on the road. “Now that’s an argument Sammy…” He pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. “Hey Dad…no, we’re fine. Looks like we’re driving back. Keep an eye on Kate and Daniel for me? See you in a few days.”
Title: Ages, John - 49 ( Click for 12, Click for 13, Click for 14, Click for 15, Click for 16, Click for 17, Click for 18, Click here for Sam 14, Click for 19, Click for 20, Click for Sam 16, Click here for 21, Click for Sam 17, Click for 22, Click here for Sam 18, Click here for 23, Click here for Sam 19, Click here for 23.5, Click here for 23.8.9, Click here for John, 49)
Characters/Pairing: Dean, Sam, John, Dean/OFC, hints of Dean/Sam, references to memory of Dean/John(overall story includes Sam/Dean, Dean/John)
Rating: PG-13 (mostly for langauge, some themes)
Word Count: 3573
Summary: AU - Dean's POV. Dean is 24, a husband, a father...clean of the drugs that have kept him from seeing the supernatural things around him, and trying to find his way back to normal...but normal isn't exactly a part of the life Winchester.
A/Ns & Warnings: Overall this is story is very dark stuff. This particular installment moves us forward, after dwelling so long in that one year. There is no explicit sex at all in this piece...though it is implied and hinted at. There is also memory of cutting, self mutilation in this section.
He was twenty-four years old the night he sat up in the living room of his house, holding his son and keeping vigil. Daniel was six months old. Exactly six months old. He looked up as Kaitlyn crept down the stairs, her smile light.
“You coming to bed?” Her voice was soft, her hand on his face warm.
“Not yet.” Daniel was asleep in his arms, and she kissed his forehead before sliding down next to Dean. “He’s too perfect.”
“Still worried?”
Dean nodded. “I’ll be fine. Just not taking any chances.”
In the months since he had returned to his wife and son, Dean had fought his way back to normal. He had to re-define normal to do it, factoring in visions and dreams and the supernatural sight. He’d kept his father busy on hunts. Kept his son close and Kaitlyn closer. They’d even set up a nursery in his office at the restaurant so they could keep Daniel with them. This was just one more hurdle.
“My father called this afternoon.” Kaitlyn said after a while. “Wants us over for dinner this weekend.”
Dean nodded. “Sure. That would be nice.” He made a face that wasn’t nice, then nudged her. “Here, take the baby.”
“Dean?”
He shook his head and deposited Daniel in her arms. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and leaned forward, trying to breathe through the worst of the pain as his head swam with images. His father, a demon, blood. Just as he was straightening up, the phone rang. “Yeah, Sam. I saw. I’ve got it.”
“Got what?”
Dean held up his hand and Kaitlyn bit her lip. His fingers dialed his father’s cell phone. “Where are you? Don’t….Dad, listen. It’s a demon. We both saw it, you can’t handle it alone. I’m coming to you. Don’t argue. I’ll be there by noon. In the meantime, don’t do anything.”
He set the phone down and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”
“Your father?”
Dean nodded and let out a slow breath. “I’ll leave at first light. Be back tomorrow. Stephen can handle the kitchen.”
“Sam?”
Dean made a face and tried not to think about Sam. He sent him away. He hurt him and sent him away. They’d spoken a half dozen times since, but Sam didn’t come home for Christmas, and their conversations never lasted more than a few words to confirm a vision or pass along information.
“He’s fine. Had the same vision.”
“You really should go see him.” Kaitlyn got up, cradling Daniel. “You know he loves you. You know he’s done everything he can to make things right.”
Dean closed his eyes and crossed his arms as though he could protect himself from the truth. “I know, Kate. I know. I just…It’s so hard.”
“Well, my grandmother used to tell me that if it isn’t hard, it isn’t worth doing.”
Dean put his arms around her, pulling his family close. “What did I ever do to deserve you, Mrs. Winchester?”
“Who says you deserve me?” she said, standing on her toes to kiss his nose. “I just keep you around to cook for me and make love to me.”
“Lucky me.”
“You know it.”
It was 11:30 when Dean pulled into the motel parking lot, stopping beside his father’s truck. He knocked on the door and started when his father answered. He was beat up, his face bruised, one eye swollen shut. “You look like shit.”
John laughed and let him into the room. “Maybe, but you should see the other guy.”
Dean shook his head. “Did you get it…the werewolf?”
John nodded. “Yes, Dean. I got him. I was just getting back to the motel when you called last night. Gonna tell me what that was about?”
“Demon attack…I mean…a vision of a demon attacking. You were getting ripped to shreds.”
“Well, I’ve seen no sign of demon activity, and I haven’t left the room.”
Dean turned, looking around the room. Something wasn’t right. “I’ve been here before.” He couldn’t place it. This wasn’t the room he saw in his vision, but he knew it somehow. John’s hand clapped his shoulder as he moved past Dean to return to the knife he’d been sharpening. In that touch, Dean placed the room and backed away. “Fuck.”
John turned, concerned. “Dean?”
“It was here. We were…here…and…Sam.” He took a deep breath. Sam had slept here in this bed near the bathroom…and woke to the sounds of Dean and his father…He shook his head.
John was coming closer. Dean held up a hand. He’d thought he’d dealt with this. Pushed it away, buried it. John stopped, but didn’t look away. “I think it’s time we talked about it Dean. Obviously not talking isn’t making it better.”
Dean closed his eyes and nodded. He didn’t want to…how do you tell your father that he fucked you because you both thought it would help? He couldn’t keep freezing up like this….couldn’t keep pushing his father away because of something he hadn’t actually done this time around. “You better…put the knife…away. Put it away. I’ll tell you…just…” He licked his lips and rubbed his hands against his jeans. “No temptation, okay?”
John looked down at the knife in his hand, then up at Dean. “Yeah, okay. Give me a minute.”
Dean watched him putter, putting the knife back in it’s sheath, gathering up various other pointy or sharp things and dumping them in a duffle bag before taking it out to his truck. When John closed the door behind him Dean held up a hand to keep him there by the door. “This is…just stand over there. Keep your distance for now.” He sank onto the bed…the one Sam had slept in, not the other…and drew his knees up to his chest.
“Things were so fucked up…I was so…” He shook his head. “I was clean. You grabbed Sam and I, forced me to detox. It was bad. But…we got through it…I got my feet back under me at Bobby’s, while you and Sam hunted. He bagged a werewolf at 14. You were so proud.” Dean cleared his throat. “I…you…God…I was cutting myself. You broke in to the bathroom.”
Dean closed his eyes. He could feel the blade slice through his skin. “It…was…I needed it…to get release.” He didn’t look up, but he could hear the change in his father’s breathing. It was faster, shallow. “I…made you…I came on the floor in the bathroom…with your hand pressed against the cut in my thigh.” Dean’s stomach churned and he thought he might be sick.
“The next night we were here…in this room. Sam…fell asleep…you…I crawled into bed with you…we…” He could feel it…the need, the shame…
There was no way he could go back to sleep, or pretend. The dreams rushed into him and John’s hand moved, down between his legs. “Dean.” His voice was low, rumbling into Dean’s stomach. Dean exhaled and moved, just enough, rubbing himself against the cock touching his ass. A soft moan escaped him and he closed one hand over his father’s, gripping his cock through the thin cotton of his boxers. Together they stroked Dean’s cock slowly, their breathing syncing up as John rubbed himself against Dean to the same rhythm.
“Dean.”
He looked up. His father’s face was pale, his hands shaking. “Enough. I understand.”
Dean shook his head. “No. No. It was me. I…was fucked up…I…”
John took a deep breath. “I’m still your father. I should have…stopped it.”
Dean shook his head. “You…were…fuck, I don’t know.” He unfolded himself and stood. “It was my fault. You wanted so badly to make up for…everything…I was weak…screwed up…and it was bad…I told you it was bad…” He paced between the beds and looked up at his father. “…and then the next day…Sam was dead and you were possessed, and it was all my fault…” Dean rubbed a shaky hand over his face. “And he offered me a way out…a way to take it all away.”
“I can’t bring myself to regret it.” Dean said after a long silence. “I would never have Kaitlyn…Sam would be dead…Jenny too. As fucked up as this is, as bad as I let it get…it was worth it.”
“I can see that.”
Dean blew out a breath, tried to equalize himself. “I should have…told you…before now. I couldn’t…not with the…the way I made you cut me, not with the way it all came back.”
Unconsciously, Dean’s hand wiped across his right thigh, over the scars. He still wanted it sometimes…craved the feeling of a sharp instrument cutting through his flesh…though never with Kaitlyn. She had a way of turning him around, of making everything soft and good and enough. But now, here…with this between them, he could taste the smell of blood.
“I’m sorry. I don’t even know when it started…why. I just…” Dean licked his lips and turned to look at his father. “Sometimes the pain…helps.”
John nodded. “I want to show you something, Dean.” He rolled up his left sleeve and exposed a series of jagged scars on his upper arm. “I was younger than you. It was back before it was a recognized thing. I was in the marines. I know about pain helping you cope.”
Dean stared. There were close to a dozen scars. “I stopped when I met your mother. I just didn’t seem to need it anymore.”
Slowly he nodded, pulling his hand away from his thigh. “So, there’s hope for me yet?” he asked with as much humor as he could find.
“Why don’t you tell me about this demon?”
Dean shrugged. “Not much to say…didn’t see it really. Saw you. Saw blood and body parts. Not here though.” He looked around the room. “We should go. Something still isn’t right.”
John nodded and reached for his other bag. “Yeah, okay. Where to?”
“Home, for now. We need to call Sam…figure out if he saw something I didn’t. See if we can place this in the timeline.”
“I’ve got something to show you.” Dean said as he led his father into the house late that night. “In the basement.” He switched on a light as he opened the door, ducking his head and showing his father into the laundry room turned war room. A map of the city covered one board, red and black push pins stuck in at places. Next to it a map of the country. On the table in front of the two was Dean’s journal.
“I’ve been trying to make sense of it…but truth is, my handwriting sucks and the notes are all so cryptic.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “The black indicates places where I noted demonic activity. Red indicates ghosts or other…things.” He skimmed his hand just above the pins. “I was hoping we’d see a pattern…but so far…”
He shook his head and looked at the other map. “White is successful hunts, things we’ve gone to because of the visions. Blue is stuff that’s familiar and I’m not sure why.” He turned the board over. White paper covered the other side, a line starting on the left, breaking into two parallel lines then re-converging into one. Notes dotted the length. “I’m starting to figure out which demon was which. The red…that’s the one that killed Mom…the one that killed Cassie. The blue, that’s the other one…I think.”
“I thought you were trying to put this in its place in your life. Looks like you’ve been working hard.”
Dean shrugged. “Looks like this is it’s place…it’s all up in my life, I gotta be all up in it. I won’t let this tear my family apart. Not any more.”
John skimmed over the timeline, particularly the top half of the parallel section. “This the…first time?”
“Yeah. It isn’t all there…but a lot of it.”
“This is good Dean. Real good.”
“I figure, when Sam gets back he can add stuff from his journal, his visions. Maybe it clarifies things.”
John yawned and Dean nodded. “I think Kate made up Sam’s room for you. Let’s call it a night.”
The nightmare woke him several hours later, wrenching screams from him before he could stop them. All around him things were shaking with his emotion, the mirror on the door rattling. Sam was in trouble…he could hear him, yelling out for help. Kaitlyn reached for him and he pulled away, reaching blindly for the phone. “Sam? Sam…pick up the damn phone. Okay…look…I can’t explain. Don’t leave Jessica alone. I’m on my way. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“Dean?”
“Could you…get me on a flight out to San Francisco? I don’t know what’s going on…Jessica’s…I think she’s going to be targeted…and Sam…” Dean shook his head to clear it of the images…he had to get there…or Sam would die trying to save her. “I don’t think Daddy Demon is going to hold back anymore. We need to circle the wagons…get everyone inside.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Take a shower, wake up. Tell Dad. We need to call Jenny too.”
Kaitlyn sat up, reaching for him even as he stood up and reached for his robe. “Dean…at least tell me what you saw.”
“He’s going to burn her…just like he did Mom.”
He knew he was too late before he even got to the street. Sirens wailed and people were milling around and he couldn’t get close enough to see. Sam. His heart was pounding as he parked the rental car and pushed and pulled his way through the crowd. “Sam!” He was yelling for him before he was close enough to even be heard.
There was smoke. Flames licked at what he assumed was the bedroom window. He could see its echo in his head, nightmare images of Sam trying to pull Jessica from the ceiling…the smell of flesh burning…Sam screaming…
“Dean…”
He turned, his eyes searching the crowd before they found him…on a gurney near the ambulance. “Sam.”
Dean’s eyes swept over him, taking in the damage. His hands had been hastily bandaged and there was blood on his face. “Sam? You okay?”
“Dean…Jess…the demon got her…she’s gone…I was…I hunting…I should have been here.”
Dean shook his head. “No, Sam. I don’t think we could have stopped this one.”
“I’m sorry sir, we really need to get him in to the ER.”
Dean nodded. “I’ll ride with him, if that’s okay.”
“Who are you?”
“His brother.”
Dean paced outside the exam room, waiting for the doctor to emerge from examining Sam. When he finally did, Dean jumped. “Well?”
“Your brother is very lucky. His hands are burned, the left one has substantially more damage. But he should recover. I’m going to recommend he stay overnight and I’m also sending for a psych eval.”
Dean’s breath caught in his throat. “What? Why?”
“His girlfriend died in that fire, Mr. Winchester, and her blood was all over his face. He’s saying that’s because she bled on him from the ceiling.” The doctor looked genuinely sympathetic. “The police are going to want to talk to him too.”
“Okay, look…can I see him at least?”
“You have about twenty minutes before the psych consult gets here.”
Dean thanked him and pushed into Sam’s room. His brother’s head rolled toward him and it was obvious they had pumped him full of pain meds. “How you doing, Sammy?”
“I’m…cookies…she made me cookies…”
Dean shook his head and pulled out his phone. “Dad, it’s Dean. Jessica’s dead, Sam’s been hurt. They’re sending in a psych consult…and they’ve got him so doped up on pain meds he’ll tell them everything. I’m have to get him out of here.”
Dean ran a hand over Sam’s face and shook his head. “I know…I know…I’m not leaving him. The doctor said something about the police. They’re going to think he did something.” He sighed. “No, we can’t. I don’t know. Maybe I can talk us out of it.”
“Dean?” Sam’s eyes went wide and he looked scared. Dean looked around the room but didn’t see anything.
“I gotta go Dad.” He pocketed the cell phone and reached for his brother. “What is it Sam?”
“Jess…it killed Jess…it said…god Dean…” Sam’s bandaged hands closed over Dean’s. “I…didn’t love her, Dean…she wasn’t you…could never be you…it killed her anyway.”
Dean stroked Sam’s forehead with his free hand. “I’m going to get you out of here, Sammy….just hold on.”
He went to check the hallway. The doctor was coming back a young woman in tow. Dean went to stand by Sam. “Ah yes, Mr. Winchester, Dr. Lambin. Doctor, this is the brother I was telling you about.”
Dean took a deep breath. He needed to be strong, for Sam. “If you’re going to evaluate my brother, I expect you’ll wait until the pain meds have worked through his system.”
He looked down on the diminutive doctor. “Right now he’s so high he’ll tell you just about anything. He just told me he was a cookie. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t really think he’s a cookie.” He crossed his arms and tried to look pissed, instead of worried.
“Dr. Morris, did you call me in here after feeding this man drugs?”
Morris looked baffled. “He was in pain.”
“I can’t make a proper determination like that.”
“You also can’t just let him be in pain.” Dean said, his hand falling protectively on Sam. He eyed both doctors, looking for signs of possession, but there wasn’t any. “My brother just lost his girlfriend and his home. He’s been injured. He’s in pain.”
“Now, I came to California to bring him home. We have something of a family emergency.”
“You’ll have to let the police decide that. They’re outside waiting for him.”
Dean nodded slowly, then looked to Sam. “I’ll be right back Sammy. You just rest.”
He spotted them as soon as he turned into the waiting area, put on his best smile and stuck out his hand. “Officers, I’m Dean Winchester. Sam is my brother.”
“Mr. Winchester, Officer Harrold and I’m Officer Marony. Is your brother up to answering a few questions.”
“He’s pretty doped up right now. If you want to know about cookies or his underwear size, now’s the right time. Anything else would have to wait.”
Marony smiled. “He got burned pretty good from what I saw.”
Dean nodded. “Doctor’s say he was lucky. I don’t think lucky is the right word. He came home from a trip, found his girlfriend dead and his place on fire. Don’t seem lucky to me.”
Harrold flipped open his notebook. “According to eyewitnesses, Sam came home just after dark. The first flames appeared in the window shortly after.”
Dean took a deep breath. “He was away on a hunting trip.”
“Now, Scott Tannin was the first person on the scene, a neighbor. He says he pulled your brother out of the burning room.”
“My brother, the hero.” Dean crossed his arms and chewed on his lip. “If he thought he could save her, he wouldn’t leave willingly. He loved her. Was thinking about proposing.” Not a lie, an embellishment. He’d gotten good with that in the years of dealing with MacAfferty.
Marony glanced at his partner and nodded. “At this point, we’re not going to be considering your brother a suspect. There was a similar crime a few months ago on the other side of town. We’re inclined to believe they’re related.”
“So, I can take him home?”
“Yes, sir, you can. If things change, we’ll contact you.”
“You do that.”
It was nearly three hours before he could get them out of there. He cajoled Sam into a cab and set them to find the rental car. From there, he set them on the freeway for the airport. “So, we missed our flight, but we should be able to get another one.” Now that they’d talked their way past the police, he figured flying was safe enough and would get them home before the next night.
“No…Dean…Pull over.”
“What?”
“Just pull over.” Sam was starting to come out of the dopey head space the meds had put him in. “We can’t fly.”
Dean guided the car off the road and into a parking lot. “Why can’t we fly, Sam?”
“We just can’t. Demons…”
“Sam.”
“Serious. Let’s just drive. You and me. Road trip.” Sam looked spooked.
“Long drive Sammy.”
Sam turned serious green eyes on his brother. “It will give me time to make it up to you.”
Dean shook his head and reached out a hand to caress Sam’s face. “No need, baby brother. No need.” There was something else behind his eyes, something frightened. “I’m the one who should be making things up to you. What I did…what I said…I’m sorry, Sammy.”
“I…had a dream about an airplane crashing. I…just imagine, Dean…there’s no control…anyone can be possessed…pilots, air traffic controllers…”
Dean made a face. He hadn’t thought about that. “Still a long ass drive.”
“It will give us time to talk.”
Dean looked at him.
Sam grinned. “Okay then…it will give me time to fuck you senseless?”
Dean laughed and pulled them back on the road. “Now that’s an argument Sammy…” He pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. “Hey Dad…no, we’re fine. Looks like we’re driving back. Keep an eye on Kate and Daniel for me? See you in a few days.”