[Fearplot]

[unchosen_son]

The morning had been long, longer than Sam had remembered in ages. There were things running around that he swore weren't supposed to be running around. Things like vampires, spirits, demons of all shapes and sizes; things that weren't supposed to be around anymore. They were supposed to be harmless on the island

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[my_wayward_son]

Dean's mouth was open to answer Sam's question as he peered out the door of their hut, his dad and Ellen coming behind them, making sure none of those things that weren't even supposed to be on the island had followed them back - neither was weird. All things considered, Dean was kind of relieved to have something to do that made him feel like he wasn't just wasting his time here, too. And it wasn't like they weren't used to Vampires and all this other crap.

Only then he heard Sam's voice, just like that night he'd taken his brother back to his apartment, just like when he'd seen Jess on the ceiling - and everything was wrong. Absolutely everything was wrong. He swung around, the door forgotten, his back unguarded, and saw Sam standing beneath the flames - it was like looking at a freaking photo, a snapshot of the last time. It was all the same. "Sam!He was moving before he'd even had a chance to really think, pulling Sam away. Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's waist and yanked him bodily away from the bed, the ceiling that had caught

[wayward_dad]

"Just ten minutes, Dad," Sam had begged him. Though John had wanted to tell Sam to get back out there, into the thick of it and keep fighting because that was what they did, he had agreed. They needed to restock, regroup, and rest for a minute before going out there to kick ass and take names yet again.

Hoisting his own bag of weapons further up his shoulder, John kept surveying the area as they headed back to the hut for "no more than ten minutes, Sam, and I mean it." Ellen was close behind him, probably as exhausted as the Winchesters. John had to hand it to Bill. He'd taught his wife well, not that John had expected anything less from Ellen Harvelle than precision

[heartlikesteel]

Ellen had been scanning the woods behind them, her eyes peeled. She was bone weary, more exhausted than she had been in years, but it felt right. They had been hunting those sonsobitches for hours, and it felt good. She had hunted years ago, here and there with Bill, but after Jo was born, she had just settled in at the Roadhouse. Still-- after years of working with hunters, she knew her shit, and she'd paid her dues out on the hunt, but it had been too damn long. She skin buzzed, and she felt more awake than a jolt of coffee could make her. She had bruises, scratches, muscles weak with exertion... Some bruises made it damn near to the bone, and she ached all over. Hunting with John and the boys made her feel alive, as messed up as that was

[unchosen_son]

Sam was struggling against Dean, in a blind fury to try and get back inside to get Veronica out of there, scrambling and trying to do anything he could to just get back in there. "Dean, move!" Sam bellowed, ready to throw a punch if that was what he had to do.

But before that could even happen, the hut started to fall apart more and more, piece by piece falling to the ground, reducing all of Sam's hopes and the structure of the hut to rubble and he just stared forward, numb and unable to do anything but still fight. "DEAN!" he shouted, desperately. "DAD!" He was begging now, anything but accepting reality.

[my_wayward_son]

"SAM," Dean kept his grip on his brother, trying to keep him away from the hut when he heard his dad's voice - so damn similar. "DAD," he yelled, almost losing his hold on Sam before he felt Ellen's hand on his shoulder, pulling him back.

He wasn't running this time, he wasn't running away - he was old enough to do more than that - but the hut had gone up, gone up like freaking nothing and his dad was in there. Shoving Sam backward farther, he tried to shake off Ellen's hand, but the heat was too much and after everything that had happened today - this of all things. "Jesus - dad!"

[wayward_dad]

John could barely see for all the smoke and the nearly white-hot dancing flames. Instinctively he looked up, somehow already knowing what he would see there. Pinned to the roof of the hut, mouth gaped open and eyes wide and unseeing, was Veronica.

A raw, guttural sound rumbled from low in his chest. Even as the timbre of his own voice hit his ears, John knew there was nothing to be done for Veronica, no matter how much he wished there was, for her sake and for Sam's.

Smoke stung his eyes and he blinked. For a minute he could have sworn it wasn't Veronica up there but Mary, but that wasn't right. That had been Mary over twenty years ago. Jessica, not many months ago.

A rivulet of blood, having pooled at Veronica's middle, dripped down before him and John pivoted for the exit. It was at that precise moment that the flames crackled and shot up, the roof practically blowing straight off. Debris rained down around him and, coughing and gasping for breath, John stumbled toward what had been the door.

[heartlikesteel]

Dammit. Ellen looked to the boys, their faces panicked and fierce, worried for their father, their bodies tensed and hunting again. She pushed Dean away, away from the flames and toward Sam, and turned to the hut. She ran the last few steps to the hut, her arm instinctively flying up to protect her eyes. Her boots heavy on her feet, she strode into the dark, into the wall of heat. She gulped for air, got nothing but smoke.

She ducked her head, grating out, "JOHN!" Her eyes were tearing up, and she reached blindly, praying she'd find him. She took another step forward, her fear starting to curl around her, reach deeper. "JOHN--" Her voice was ragged, desperate, and it sounded like an echo to her own ears. No. No, no no no no-- Her outstretched hands hit a soft, warm wall of shoulder, and she curled her fingers into the leather and flannel and pulled, dragging him to the door. They burst through the doorframe, and she stumbled a few feet before stopping. She gasped for breath for a moment, her hands on her knees. She lifted her head to

[unchosen_son]

Sam was staggering backwards, unable to look at it anymore, at the fire that he had seen coming for weeks, the one he had dreamed about and seen in visions and he had done it again. He hadn't said a word. All emotion had escaped him and every step back yielded another thought of guilt and when his back hit the tree, he just stared at Dean, at Dad, at Ellen, watching the way the flames flickered and illuminated their faces.

Something...something was slowly starting to creep in painfully, just at his temples. Like a terrible tickle in his brain that was becoming more and more awkward and started to hurt like a son of a bitch. He winced, a hand going to his forehead as he tried to swallow it back. "Dean," he said, voice low. "Get Dad out..."

[my_wayward_son]

Dean was torn - he meant to follow his dad and Ellen but he had to make sure Sam was safe. He had to. Which meant he stood there, just stood there - between what used to be the hut and his brother. He saw Ellen come out, his dad just a step behind her, and something in his chest loosened. Then he heard Sam.

Sam.

Turning, he saw that his brother had backed himself up against a tree and that look - that wasn't normal for Sam. Hadn't been for as long as Dean'd been on the island, anyway. Dad can take care of himself. Now that he wasn't trying to get buried beneath a pile of burning palm, anyway.

He moved forward, toward Sam instead, one hand reaching out as he came up beside him. But what could he say? What, really? Jesus, he thought, swallowing, letting his hand drop to his side and just sort of standing there next to Sam as the hut smoldered and Ellen wheezed, soot dropping down through the air around them.

[wayward_dad]

John coughed heavily as Ellen Harvelle, rail-thin and strong as a damned whippet, dragged his ass out of that hut. He gasped, lungs sucking in great gulps of fresh air so fast that it made his knees buckle beneath him. The only thing that saved him from collapsing into a puddle on the ground was Ellen's shoulder; his hand shot out and clasped onto it.

Once John regained his balance, all he could do was look at his boys. Sammy backed against the tree, looking like his world had just ended, Dean standing beside him with concern etched on his features.

The only things John could think was Jesus and sonofabitch as he propelled himself forward, hauling Ellen with him, leaving that mess of a hut behind.

There was no hope for Veronica anymore.

"I'm so sorry, Sam," John rasped, wrapping his arms around the three of them briefly. "There was nothing we could do."

[heartlikesteel]

She took John's weight as he stumbled, and she turned her body slightly toward him. She reached her hand up under the arm that had fallen on her shoulder, and she pressed her palm into his back, supporting him. She pushed herself to standing, checking to make sure John was okay. He had eyes only for the boys, and her eyes followed his. Christ, they look like shit. She wanted to wrap them in hugs, give them hot chocolate, and tell them that the bad guys all went away. She wanted to give them that again so badly it ached

[unchosen_son]

Sam wished that it would all be over with the fire, that that much tragedy and pain would be all he had to bear, but as his back dug out against the tree, he forgot about everyone around him, forgot that Dean was there, that Dad and Ellen were looking at him like he might fall apart any second (not just yet), because his world was falling into that painful place he hadn't felt in so long.

"Dean!" he shouted gutturally, out of habit, falling now as he stumbled, the pain worse than it had been any of those days before when he had migraines and the vision hit him swift and hard, like a baseball bat to the head.

[my_wayward_son]

Dean moved without really thinking, his voice more a hiss than anything else as he said, "Sammy," and made a grab for his brother. He caught him before he could hit the ground and held tight, trying to steady him by sheer force of will. This hadn't happened since they'd been on the island - with everything else going on, with all the evil sons of bitches that had been showing up.

He should've expected it. He should've known. "Shit - Dad - " What could their dad do, though? What could any of them do. It was all happening again, happening just like it had before. As soon as everything started hitting the fan, he should've just - he should've known, damn it.

[wayward_dad]

Now was not the time for compassion or tears. There would be time enough for all of that later.

Jaw clenched, John looked over at his boys, saw the way Dean was holding Sammy up, supporting him like he’d always done. Teeth grinding together, John flashed back to his first day on the island, the very moment he’d climbed outta Hell and stumbled onto the beach. One of the first persons who had found him had been Sam. It was his youngest who told him about the island - how it worked, how people ended up here and left here, and how there were no demons to hunt. The demon, old Yellow Eyes, included in that ‘no demons’ deal.

Now?

John was pretty damned sure all bets were off.

“We have to keep moving,” John said firmly, taking time to look each of them in the face. “What just happened wasn’t an accident.” He held out his hand. “Give me the Colt. I’ve got work to do.”

[heartlikesteel]

Sam hit the tree with a force that made Ellen wince, and she took a step forward after Dean, stopping just behind Sam. Dean's voice crackled through her, the fear in his voice. Sam was in pain, and there was- there was nothing she could do. She swallowed hard, her eyes glued to Sam's face, contorted in pain. This was it. All his migraines, the nightmares... all of it was coming to this. She had warned him, had thought that maybe things were starting again... She had seen it coming, and she was still helpless. She pressed her lips together before looking up at John.

"You think it was the demon?" If John was planning something, she wanted in on it now. There wasn't enough time for lies or half-truths or following orders-- they all needed to know what was going on.

[unchosen_son]

Sam was seeing things again, visions flickering forward, taking elements of what was in front of him and slowly building into the hallucination and he let out a cry of pain as he slumped lower against the tree, trying to narrate aloud what he saw, but god, it really was hurting more than he thought it could.

He wished, so badly, that they had stayed in his nightmares. It didn't hurt as much there.

"No!" he gasped, "Dad, you can't," he pleaded, eyes scrunched closed.