Sunday, October 27, 2013
Sam came home from school on Friday and started dinner. Dean didn’t make it home until 6:30. He was covered with grease and looked exhausted. The older boy headed straight for the bathroom and a shower.
Fifteen minutes later, Dean entered kitchen and sat down at the table and sighed.
“Man, I’m beat, Sammy. We had an engine with a cracked block and the damned owner wouldn’t believe it. I took it all the way down so he could see. Now, he’s haggling price. Told my boss he doesn’t want to pay top price for a kid.”
Sam set a beer on the table and place the food bowls down. He grabbed a beer and joined his brother.
“What did your boss tell him?”
Dean grinned, “He told him he could either put it back together himself or pay me the going rate.”
“Well, you’re good enough to get the rate, Dean.”
“Thanks. How was your day at school?”
Sam blushed, “I have a date.”
It’s next Saturday night and it’s the Fall Festival. Can I use the car?”
“Hell, yeah! My Sammy’s growing up.”
“I’ve had dates before.”
“Not without me driving,” Dean replied with a grin.
Sam smiled, feeling proud to have the use of Dean’s baby.
Castiel wondered what Dean find to do without transportation.
With everyone standing behind him, John signed a one year lease on the house. He packed and left that afternoon. Bobby, Pastor Jim, and Caleb helped find some used furniture for the place.
Dean came home that afternoon and told everyone he'd found a job at a mechanic's shop. His dad had taught him well, and the pay wasn't bad. The three men gave Dean money for groceries, school supplies, and everything the two boys would need while living on their own.
They headed out that afternoon. Dean took Sam shopping. By the end of the week, both boys had the house livable and were contented to live there without their Dad.
On Saturday, Dean came home at four in the afternoon, covered with grease. He smiled and went to take a shower. After he had cleaned up, he told Sam to come with him.
"Where are we headed, Dean?"
"To a place that closes at five, so we need to hurry."
The Impala pulled up in front of a book store. Dean jumped out and said, "Come on."
"Come on, Sam. You know a house isn't a home without books. There's some old bookcases in the attic. I thought we could fix them up and paint or stain them. We'd have a place for any books we buy."
"What do we do with them once Dad wants to hit the road again?"
"Leave them at Bobby's. The books here are all twenty-five cents to one dollar in range. I have thirty dollars so let's see what we can find."
The boys bought over one hundred books. They carried them out in boxes. Neither was sure what all they had bought. Dean pulled into the local lumber yard and bought a few tools, some wood glue, nails, and paint.
They spent the remainder of the day repairing three nice size book cases. One was left in the living room, and the other two went into their rooms.
By Sunday afternoon, the cases had books on them, and both boys were in their rooms, laying on their beds, reading.
Friday, September 13, 2013
August wasn’t far away, and Sam’s Senior year was coming fast. Dean never finished high school, but he knew his brother had an almost perfect grade. He thought he was either a 3.9 or a 4.0. In their business, it was hard to keep up with things like grade point averages.
Dean spent a long time on the phone with Bobby, Jim, and Caleb, asking for help. The first week of August, he found a house in town. Dean spent time hunting for it while their Dad was tracking the thing that killed their Mom. The oldest boy figured it would be another dead end.
School would start in two weeks and Sam was frantic. He wanted to stay in one place and John was saying, “No.”
They were at home one evening when there was a knock on the motel room door. Sam answered it and found their three closest friends.
John rose to his feet and welcomed them inside and asked why they were there. Pastor Jim told him they had come to help get the family situated in the house Dean had found.
“What house?” John snapped
“The house we have to have for Sam to finish school. It’s his last year and we talked about it, Dad. You said it would be a good idea for us to stay here while you hunted. We can do salt and burns on weekends together, but it will let him finish. I was gonna get a job so he can have the things he needs for school.”
“Yeah, Dad. You even told Uncle Bobby,” Dean lied smoothly.
John turned red and asked to see the house. Grinning, Dean grabbed his jacket and told everyone to come on.
Monday, July 8, 2013
After Sam's seventeenth birthday, things began to get worse. Dean watched his little brother question every order their father gave him. The arguments grew louder every day. The older brother would feel his stomach knot with stress. He loved his family and could not understand why Sam had to question everything.
Dean had found a fast food place that had a sale. He bought a large bucket of chicken and a number sides to go with it. Stopping at a convenience store, he purchased a case of beer. It would take John longer to get drunk on beer.
Castiel walked behind him, looking at his purchases. Dean found some fried pies on sale and picked up ten of them with a grin on his face. The angel smiled. His charge never lost his appetite for the pastry. He shook his head, not understanding the need to eat such things.
Dean paid for his purchases and walked towards the Impala. He smiled when he looked at the car. His father had purchased a large truck and Dean was now the proud owner of the vehicle. He was overjoyed with the gift.
Pulling up the motel, Dean drove down to the end of the building and parked in front of the room his Dad had rented. He grabbed the food and headed towards the door. The noises coming from the room were loud and profane. The older Winchester boy stood at the door, sorrow and worry on his face. His stomach twisted and he turned back to the car and sat inside of it.
Dean knew his Dad would get drunk and Sam would be too angry to listen to reason. He opened the chicken and grabbed a thigh. Reaching over to the case, he grabbed a bottle. It was going to be a long night.
The angel in the back seat watched and worried.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
The Winchesters were in North Dakota, hunting a wendigo, on Dean’s twenty-first birthday. The hunt had been difficult, and all three men had been injured. They reached an abandoned farm house at sunrise. Dean checked the wiring outside and managed to break the lock mechanism and find a way to get lights on. John found an old woodpile and Sam hunted for kindling. Before long, the three men had lights, water, and a fire.
John stitched some scratches on Sam’s back and bandaged his son. Sam began to do the same for him. John had a gash on his side. They jumped when they heard a gun go off twice.
“Check on your brother, Son,” the older man told the teen.
Sam found Dean standing outside, cleaning and skinning a brace of rabbits.
“Supper, Sammy. Aren’t you hungry?”
“Yeah, Dean, but you’re injured.”
“I’ll be fine. Bobby called a while ago. He’s coming up here.”
“Not quite sure.”
Dean found some pots in the ancient kitchen. “There’s an old garden out there, Sammy? You think something might still be growing?”
“Like what? This place is old, Dean,” Sam whined a little.
“I forgot. You’re hurting,” Dean commented and walked outside, leaving his brother with their father, who had killed a half bottle of whiskey to kill the pain and get drunk. He walked around the gardens. The plants were over grown, but he dug around some and found two very large potatoes and one huge onion. Going to the car, he looked in the back seat for a bag from the fast food place they had stopped at the day before. He found ketchup, salt, and pepper. Going back into the house, the older brother put the cut up rabbits in a pot of water, added the ketchup, salt and pepper and put a lid on the pot.
At that moment, a dizzy spell hit him. Sam grabbed him and opened his jacket. The shirt beneath was covered in blood.
“Damn it, Dean,” Sam swore as he began to stitch the nasty gash that almost ripped his brother’s stomach open
Dean laid down on a sleeping bag while Sam watched the stew his brother had put on the fire.
Bobby arrived late in the afternoon and took charge. He checked the stew. The food was cooked. Checking the wounds, he noted Dean’s was the worse.
After everyone ate the stew, John and Sam both laid down and slept. Dean sat up and watched Bobby check the salt lines. The older man sat down next him. He opened up his backpack and pulled out a small bottle of Irish whiskey.
Dean’s hazel eyes stared at him in surprise, “Dad’s asleep, Bobby.”
“That’s right, Son. Happy birthday,” the old hunter spoke softly as he offered the whiskey to boy.
Dean took a small sip and coughed a little. Bobby smiled.
“Of the hard stuff? Yes, Sir.”
The two hunters split the bottle and Bobby tucked Dean into his sleeping bag. The hunter slept near the boy, knowing there would be a major hangover in the morning.
Castiel arrived from and errand for Father and frowned over the wounds, knowing he could have prevented them. He smelled the alcohol and realized what day it was, and felt grateful for Bobby.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Sam was allowed to leave the hospital in four days, but Dean had to remain. The doctors were working to kill a nasty infection in his leg. Due to this, his lung was healing slowly.
Mrs. Tran and Garth took turns staying with him. Garth always brought Sam up for a visit. Dean was irritable, feeling the hunt wasn’t finished. He was constantly asking if there was news of any other killings. The answer was always ‘No.’
After twelve days, the hunter was released. The doctor recommended rest and Sam made his brother promise to stay put for a couple of days. Dean wanted to go home and heal in his own room. The younger Winchester knew this and was working to make sure it happened.
Garth and Mrs. Tran headed out the morning the two were planning to leave. By this time, the woman had learned to forgive Dean and like him again.
Sam was checking the best route to get home when someone knocked at the door. Dean limped over and answered it.
A Native American stood there. The hunter froze for a second.
“You must have the wrong room,” Dean said as he began to close the door.
“I am looking for the hunters who ended a reign of terror. Both of you have the feel of men who have been at war recently,” the man responded.
Sam grabbed his crutches and moved towards the door. The man turned to him. He gazed at the taller man, taking in his size and weight.
Turning back to Dean, he commented, “You are stronger than you look, Dean Winchester. You had those cuts in your leg and they were infected. Still, you carried him on a litter. You went further after almost drowning and the damage to your lung should have killed you. The old Shaman went after you more than this one. Why?”
Sam saw his brother turn red and watched him try to shake off the question and ignore it.
“All right, I irritated his ass to keep him away from you. Besides, he pissed me off."
Their visitor laughed, “I like you, Dean Winchester. The Shaman is dead. He used too many innocent spirit guides and their walkers. He deserved what they did to him. I want you to know he is gone for good and the evil with him. Thank you.” The Native American turned and walked away.
Sam shut the door and stared at his brother.
“Sooner or later, you’re gonna get yourself killed, Dean.”
“Yeah, I know, but not this time. Can we go home now?"
“Yeah, let’s go.”
Dean drove out of the motel parking lot and headed towards Lebanon, Kansas.
Dean heard their father moving around in his room and told his brother to pack their things and load them in the car. The teen knocked on his dad’s door and heard a murmur. He opened the door and entered.
“Dad, we're loading up. I figured you’d want to leave as soon as you were ready.”
John stared at his son and nodded.
“Can I make you some coffee or a bowl of cereal?”
John shook his head and finished dressing. Dean left the room, confused at his father’s attitude. Castiel stared at the man and wondered what he was up to.
John walked out of his room and found his son waiting with the med kit. His eyebrows raised and he sat down at the table and let Dean check the hand. It was badly bruised, but there were no breaks. His son wrapped the hand and made a sling for him.
“I don’t need the sling. I have to drive.”
“I can drive, Dad.”
Two pairs of eyes stared each other down.
Thirty minutes later, Dean pulled out of the parking lot of the motel. John rode shotgun. Sam and Castiel sat in the back seat. The angel had a smug look on his face.
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Dean just stared at his brother after the comments Sam had made regarding John, Bobby and the law. He shook his head, ruffled his brother’s hair, and went to get some breakfast. He put on a pot of coffee for John. Sometimes it helped.
John walked out of his bedroom, holding his arm against his chest. Sam stared at him, but remained quiet.
“Morning, Sammy,” the man said softly.
“Morning, Dad,” the younger boy replied.
Dean almost dropped his bowl of cereal as he turned quickly to make sure his Dad did nothing to hurt his brother.
Turning towards the kitchen and facing his oldest son, John stopped and stared at the bruise on the boy’s face. He winced, knowing people would ask about him.
“It’s okay, Dad. I got into a fight with a couple of boys in town. There won’t be any problems.”
“Damn it, Dean!” Sam yelled.
The boys’ Dad turned on his youngest, “You be quiet and stay out of this, Sammy!”
“I’m not stupid, Dad! You can’t keep treating Dean like this! He’s a kid, Dad! You don’t beat your kids!”
John turned towards his youngest and began to push him. He was stopped by his oldest. Dean grabbed his Father and yelled at his brother to go to their room and stay there.
The older Winchester faced the teen, “You keep your damned hands off me, boy! Don’t interfere with Sam and me.!”
“Dad,” Dean spoke softly. “You have a bad hand right now. How are you gonna take me on? Let me fix the hand for you.”
“You think I can’t take you on, boy? I can kick your damn teeth down your throat,” the man roared.
“Something attacked you last night. It wasn’t me. I don’t know what’s going on, but maybe you ought to calm down. You’re still drunk from yesterday.”
Castiel stood up and walked over to stand behind the boy. ‘Father, I am sorry, but I will not let him do it again.’ There was no sound from Heaven.
John Winchester stared into his son’s eyes and turned towards his room. Dean watched the door close behind him and released the breath he was holding. He shook and sat down on the couch.
Sam came back out and fixed his brother some of the cereal.
“You need to eat,” the younger boy told his big brother.
Both boys sat on the couch and watched a movie on the television.
Sam blinked his eyes and kept sticking his tongue out of his mouth, making funny faces. His head cleared and he looked around him. He was in a private room and wondered where he was.
A woman walked in and stood at the foot of his bed, hands on her hips.
“It’s about time you woke up, Sam Winchester.”
The hunter stared at her for a moment. “Mrs. Tran?” was his hoarse response.
“Yes, they operated on you yesterday. They said you might be unconscious for a while due to the concussion,” Kevin’s mother answered.
“What time is it?”
“It is four in the afternoon.”
“That’s a long time. How’s Dean?”
“I don’t know. Garth sent me here and headed up to ICU,” the woman responded as she pulled a chair up to Sam’s bedside and sat down.”
“Garth? ICU!” Sam pressed the button for a nurse.
A male nurse entered the room. “Can I help you, Sir?”
Sam tried to take several deep breaths but all he could think of was Dean waking up in ICU and freaking out.
“My brother, Dean Winchester, is in ICU. I think we ought to be in the same room. He’s not gonna handle this very well. He’ll pull out the IV if he’s awake enough.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Winchester.”
Dean slowly opened his eyes and licked his lips. He felt tired, sore, and incredibly thirsty.
“Hello?” His voice was barely a whisper, “Damn it. Sammy?”
“Hey, Dean,” Garth said as he stood up from a chair near the hunter’s bed.
Garth stared into a pair of highly confused green eyes.
“Where am I? Hell, where’s Sammy? Is that bastard dead?”
“Well, you’re in the hospital. Sam is in a room two floors down, and
I don’t know who the bastard is, Dean.”
The hunter tried to sit up on the side of the bed, reaching for tubes and wires. Garth pressed an emergency button and tried to convince the man to lay back down.
A doctor and several nurses ran into the room. Dean attempted to fight them off, but he was too weak.
“No, please. Sammy!”
A few minutes passed and Dean had been given a sedative. He was not unconscious. The drug was more of an ‘I Don’t Give a Damn’ medication.
Garth was speaking to the doctor when the request from Sam was brought to the ICU.
A conference was held. Intermediate Care was on the third floor. A room was set up with the equipment needed to monitor the older brother and what Sam needed also.
Sam was resting in the new room when his brother was brought down. The younger man sat up as Dean’s bed was rolled into the room and set up closer to the door.
After all the medical equipment was hooked up, the nurse gave the older hunter a slight shot of pain medicine to work with the sedative.
Dean breathed slowly and his brother heard a slight sob.
I’m here, Dean. We’re gonna be fine.”
“Yeah? What happened to that son of a bitch? The explosion knocked me for a loop. I thought I saw him get carried away.”
“I’m sorry, but I was out cold.”
The hunter sighed. “Did anyone find my Baby?”
“We have it, Dean,” Garth answered from the door.
“Garth? What the hell?”
Sam sighed softly, “I listed him as next of kin, Dean. We couldn’t do it for each other since both of us were in here. How are you feeling?”
The green eyes looked slightly glazed over, “Like shit, Sammy. Garth?”
“Is my baby all right?”
“Yeah, she’s fine. I’m gonna let you two get some rest. You’ve been through hell and back from what the doctors told me. Get some sleep. I’ll be back later.”
Sam watched his older brother doze off and laid back down and closed his eyes. He suddenly felt exhausted.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Dean woke in a room filled with electronic equipment. The walls were painted a light gray. He felt a hard gurney-type table beneath him. A breathing machine was attached to him. The machine eased the pain of taking a deep breath. The older Winchester didn't feel need quite as bad.
The young hunter tried to talk but his voice was incredibly hoarse.
“He’s awake, Doctor,” a woman’s voice commented.
“Where’s anesthesiology? I need him under.”
The older Winchester’s mind was foggy but he understood the word, “under.”
“Good, there you are. We need to go in, stat.”
The green eyes almost crossed as the injured man tried to focus on the mask someone behind him was placing over his face. He made an attempt to stop the mask from reaching his face, but his hands wouldn’t move. They were strapped down.
A confused mumble of “What the hell?” could be heard erupting from the patient
“Breathe deeply, Sir. It’s important they take care of you right now”
“Wha…?” Dean was asleep.
Sam lay on a gurney in the emergency room, waiting for an orthopedic doctor to arrive and look at the x-rays. His leg was throbbing and his head hurt. The doctors had informed him he had a concussion. They planned to keep him for a few days to monitor the injuries, but weren’t sure if he needed surgery for his leg.
He kept asking questions about Dean and was getting no answers. Frustration was not helping him. When asked about next of kin, the nurse wanted someone besides Dean. Sam finally gave her Garth’s number and said he was a step brother.
The orthopedic surgeon suggesedt surgery to keep the bone strong and allow it to heal. Sam was not happy but agreed and signed the papers. He’d already signed Dean’s.
The younger brother asked about Dean one more time and was told he had regained consciousness before the anesthesiologist put him under. Sam was moved to a gurney and taken to the surgical area.
“We are going to prep you, Mr. Winchester. Blood work was done and an IV was inserted. Soon, he was moved into an operating room and someone told him to breathe.
Sam held his brother for over an hour when an idea came to him. Laying Dean on the sand, he covered his face lightly, keeping the hot rays from burning the man’s face more than they already had.
Forcing himself to rise and walk, he felt a slight movement of the bone in his leg and hoped it would not break more and come through the muscle and skin. He found the old river bed and began to look for wood that would have washed out of the canyon. It took the man several hours to find enough wood to build a bonfire. Opening his backpack, he removed a small can of starter fluid and some matches. In the bottom of the pack, he spotted on bottle of water. Grateful to the powers that be, he opened the water and drank a small amount. Lifting Dean, he raised his brother’s head and gave him some of the water.
“Not too much, Dean. I found this one in the bottom of my backpack. The taller hunter helped the smaller one sit up. Dean squinted in the bright light and saw the wood pile.
“What the hell is that?”
“I remembered that the border patrol goes over this area because illegal aliens come this way to avoid being caught. They use helicopters, Dean. Remember the ones we saw in the town we drove through on the way to the reservation? They’re gonna be loud enough to be heard. I’ll set fire to this and draw their attention. We’ll get help.”
The older man stared at his brother, “Okay, Sammy.”
After the sun went down, the Shaman appeared and stood between the brothers. Sam raised the shotgun and watched.
“You should not be alive. The Spirits cannot want this. It would seem my skin walkers are not strong enough to handle you.”
Dean almost smirked, and the old man was irritated by it.
“How are you even alive? I know how sick you are.”
“Somebody likes me,” the injured man commented.
At that point, the Shaman turned into a large eagle and attacked Sam. The shotgun flew into the air. The bird flew at a fast speed, talons stretched out and aimed at the younger man.
“Sam,” Dean shouted with what voice he had left. He managed to rise and put all of his strength into reaching the younger man. Sam held his arm out at an angle, blocking the large bird from reaching his face and neck. He didn’t see his brother until the man was on top of him.
Dean pinned the eagle between himself and his younger brother. He grabbed the silver knife he still carried and stabbed into the eagle’s back, severing the spinal cord, and sliding the blade up into the heart. The force of the attack cause a small explosion. Dean was thrown back. Sam lost consciousness.
At the moment the blast occurred, older hunter saw animals grab the Shaman and drag him away. The man was screaming.
Dean heard a different noise. The blast attracted the Border Patrol. He crawled to the pile of wood, poured the lighter fluid over it and lit it off. The hunter felt the high winds of chopper blades and it was all he remembered.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Dean woke the next morning, alone. He jumped out of bed, looking for his brother. When John Winchester was drunk enough to hit, he was drunk enough to still be drunk in the morning. The older Winchester boy did not want his little brother crossing John’s path when he wasn’t normal.
Going through the motel suite, Dean finally found Sam eating a bowl of cereal and watching TV. His eyes searched the area, remembering the night before and the unseen attack on their father.
“Morning, Sam,” the older boy whispered quietly.
“Good morning, Dean,” Sam spoke around a mouth full of cereal and milk.
“You see or hear anything unusual?” he older boy
“I don’t know. Something grabbed Dad last night. I couldn’t see anything.”
Sam set his bowl on the coffee table, “Really? I missed it?”
“It’s not funny, Sammy. Dad wouldn’t let me look at his hand.”
“It hurt his hand? Why his hand?” Sam saw the bruise forming on his brother’s cheek. Dean had such pale skin and bruises formed easily.”
The other boy turned his head.
“You can’t lie this time, Dean. He hit you? How many times?”
“Just once. I had it coming, Sammy.”
“No, Dean, you didn’t have him hitting you coming,” the younger brother tried to make his elder listen to reason. “If he kicked your ass, I could see that, but he hit you in the face. Good parents don’t do that, Dean. Dad’s got problems.”
“He misses Mom. He loved her so much, Sam. He drinks to forget the pain. I get in the way too much.”
“No Dean, you take care of him and he doesn’t deserve it.”
“You and Dad are all I got, Man.”
“That shouldn’t include getting beat up. Next time, I’m calling Bobby and the police and I’ll turn him in.”
Castiel, sitting on a chair, smiled and hoped the hand was either badly sprained or broken.
By midmorning of the next day, Sam saw the opening to the canyon. He kept talking to his brother, urging him to keep going. Dean was faltering, barely able to stay on his feet.
“There’s the end of the canyon,” the younger man sounded excited.
The green eyes squinted in the sunlight and Dean Winchester took a shallow, stuttering breath as he spoke, “I didn’t think we’d make it, man”
“We did. The car isn’t far from there, Man. There’s water and air conditioning in your baby. We’re almost there.”
“Okay, let’s go find her,” the hunter spoke in a hoarse voice.
“I’ll drive you to the nearest hospital, Dean.”
“No…we find that son of a bitch first,” Dean started choking and was back on his knees, coughing up more blood.
“Hold on, Dean. Please. Hold on.”
The older brother nodded and tried to rise to his feet. Sam could hear the moans and almost whimpers as the smaller man fought to regain an ability to stand he was on the verge of losing completely.
The taller man cried out in pain after leaning over, putting his arms under his brother’s armpits, and lifting the man to his feet. The younger brother stumbled slightly and regained his footing, keeping most of the weight on his good leg. Dean leaned back against his brother’s chest, sobbing slightly.
“Damn it, Sammy. We’re in a bad mess here,” he murmured.
“I know, Dean, but at least we’re alive. Let’s go.”
After an hours walk, the boys reached the spot where they left the Impala. The car was gone. The older man collapsed to the ground, “No! The bastards stole my baby! Sammy, they got my car!”
The taller brother knelt in the sand and held the seriously injured man and closed his eyes, trying to decide what to do. They were in the middle of the desert, the water was gone, and their car was nowhere in sight.
“I’m thinking, Dean. Give me some time to figure out what to do. Close your eyes and rest a bit. I’ll find a way.” Dean was on his knees, his head leaning against his brother’s chest, his arms hanging loosely by his side. Sam knew that the man was at the end of his ropes and would be no help to him at the moment.