[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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[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 look at them, the brothers and their father-- the Winchesters. She pushed herself to a standing position, half smirking and still panting for air. M'hand to God, they'll be the goddamn death of me.

[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.

Before she could blink, the hand on her shoulder was pulling her away from the hut, and she stumbled a step, the hand on his back curling into his shirt and catching herself. They pushed forward, toward the boys. This had been one helluva day, and the fact that they were still standing, still alive, was a goddamn miracle. John reached out to the three of them, and her free arm slid around Dean's back; her face was pressed into warm leather in a Winchester shoulder, but she wasn't really sure which one. She smelled leather and gunpowder, dirt and blood. She closed her eyes for half a second, savoring it, before pulling back. Almost smells like Bill.

She took another slow breath and took half a step back and folded her arms over her chest, looking back to the wreckage. Veronica. Her eyes were wet, irritated from the fire, and her heart let a few stray tears mix in there. Another life lost to this fight. Even here. She wiped the palm of her hand across her eyes, frowning down at the ground for a moment before looking up at Sam. He really did look like shit. With good reason.

[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.

[my_wayward_son]

"Dad, you can't do it alone - " And I'm not leaving Sammy. Dean was gritting his teeth, pissed off that his dad was doing the same damn thing all over again. He had work that needed doing - no, no - they had work they needed to do and he'd be damned if he was going to let his dad run off to get killed, his brother flail around after losing his girlfriend, and Ellen... do whatever Ellen did. He liked the woman, he did, especially now that Jo wasn't around to make things tricky, but some things just - he didn't know.

"Just - just calm down for a second. We've gotta get a plan, some idea of what's going on - we don't even know where the son of a bitch is..." Pulling Sam up a bit, trying to do something that would help, Dean glared at his dad. It was so freaking weird, being the one telling everyone else to calm down.

[wayward_dad]

"I know it was," John said to Ellen. He opened his mouth to tell her to stomp down on those hare-brained ideas he could just see formulating in her head, only Sam piped up, followed quickly by Dean.

"I can and I am," he said firmly. "This is between me and him. You boys -- and Ellen -- you gotta stand down. I'm sure as hell not gonna give him the opportunity to hurt any of you."

Looking from one son to the next, he added, "You know I'm right."

Opening his hand again, he held it out. "Now give me the Colt, son. That's an order."

Plans would come once he had the damned gun in his hand.

[heartlikesteel]

Ellen watched it unfold, like something out of a goddamn movie. Sam was writhing in pain, Dean was yelling at them both, and John was on a suicide mission to kill this demon once and for all. She stared blankly at them all, realizing that this was how it was when the three of them hunted together. Holy shit. It was already getting out of hand. She needed to do something, but not being related to them seemed more of a curse than a blessing at the moment. She felt like she was just waiting to be cut off at the knees by a Winchester, any Winchester. Though, for what it was worth, her money was on John. Dean was a good second pick, though. Fuck.

"No." She was staring at the boys, her voice firm. She finally turned to John, doing her best to hold her ground. John Winchester was not a man to be fucked with. Ever. "No, it's not, John. This isn't just between the two of you." She furrowed her brow, almost in disbelief. Almost-- she knew him well enough to expect this heroic fury. "Mary was their mother, John. They have as much right to go after that sonofabitch as you do."

She shook her head, and her voice grew calm and quiet, more to just John than the boys. "They're grown men, John. You're not going to win this fight by going off on your own. This is a war, and we need to stick together."

Come on. She was willing him to meet her eyes, to see what she was seeing. She didn't want him to die, not here, not now. He was being a hero, but a dumb one. Sam and Dean were grown men, who had been taught well, and were fully capable of helping their father. Key word there being 'help'. John wasn't the commander of his own little army, and he needed to start seeing his boys as what they were-- men. They couldn't do this alone. None of them could. Come on, John. She pleaded with him in her thoughts, begging him to see this through.

[unchosen_son]

"Stop!" Sam pleaded, shouting in a splintering cry, because while Dad wanted the Colt and Ellen and Dean were trying to stop him, he was watching the Demon kill his father, all in his mind, an inevitable future event that they had to stop.

"Dad, he's going to kill you," he pleaded, heel of his hand jammed against his forehead. "He...you can't. You can't go!"

[my_wayward_son]

Dean's blood ran cold. He's seeing it. He's seeing it and he's never wrong. "Dad, you've gotta listen - what he's seeing, it's - it's real, alright?" Damn it, he thought, eyes trained on his father as he tried to keep Sam from hitting the ground - it was really freaking hard, though.

"Stop - just stop doing what you always do. It hasn't worked so far, for twenty years it never worked. We've gotta try something else." Something more. Something better. Dean didn't know what that would be, but he knew it didn't involve his dad charging off into the jungle in search of the demon, by himself.

[wayward_dad]

Three against one. John had faced bigger odds than that before. That didn't mean this small goddamned rebellion didn't piss him right off. It did. It did a whole hell of a lot.

"Ellen," he grounded out, "you don't know what you're dealing with. Any demons and things you saw with Bill don't even begin to compare with this sonofabitch. I'm only gonna say this once, so pay damned close attention: This bastard killed Mary and ruined Sam's life. It's my job to make sure he's stopped. My job. Not yours. Not Sam's. Not Dean's."

Hands clenching into fists, somehow John became almost eerily calm as he stepped toward her. "Don't you mention Mary again to me. Ever."

Turning to Sam, the cold mask fell just a little. Dean was right. Whatever Sam was seeing, it was real.

For a long, heavy moment, he was silent, wheels turning.

"What do you wanna try then, Dean? I'm not risking your life or Sam's or Ellen's. I'm supposed to be dead. I'm facing him. End of discussion."