Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Dean woke feeling that something wasn’t right. He slowly turned over and saw someone leaning over Sam. Slowly pulling his gun out from under him, the hunter pointed it at the shape in the dark.
“You wanna tell me what the hell you’re doing?” the hoarse sounding voice asked and the sound of the Colt being cocked was loud in the quietness of the canyon.
The figure straightened and moved slowly towards the armed man.
“You may attempt to harm me, Dean Winchester, but it will do you know good. I am not here,” the Shaman spoke as he appeared within the light of the dying fire.
“You look here to me and it’s easy enough to find out, but I won’t fire. We need help,” the exhausted man answered softly.
“I found the remains of the skin walker. You did not bury him.”
“With what? I’m injured, I have no shovel, and Sam’s in bad shape,” I put some rocks over him the best I could, but I didn’t have the time to cover him with a large amount of small rocks and there were mainly boulders there,” the hunter was growing angry.
“I cannot help you,” the elderly man replied.
“Damn it! Look at him! We need help.”
“You lied when you told me you were studying my peoples’ beliefs. Instead, you killed a skin walker.”
“He was killing people. It’s my job to hunt him down.”
“There are many skin walkers, Dean Winchester. You made a terrible mistake by killing this one. There are others out there. I will not help you. You committed a crime.”
“A crime? I killed a cat that turned back into a human and you know it,” Dean was getting angrier. “We need help. You can’t just leave us out here.”
“I will leave the two of you here to be judged by the Spirits. If you survive, they have forgiven you. If you die, it is justice.”
“Wait a minute! I’m the one who shot him. At least help Sam,” the hunter pleaded.
“He hunted with you, Dean Winchester. This is the trial for you both. I will not intervene.”
Before Dean could move, the Shaman disappeared.
He sat back and uncocked his gun. “What do we do now? Damn.”
The hunter built up the fire and stayed awake. Fear of other skin walkers finding them in the dark coursed through him. He dragged his brother closer to the fire and covered him with his jacket. Sitting with his back against a boulder, he watched the dark for any sign of life and waited for morning.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
John ate a large portion of his meal but refused to drink the beverage Dean had supplied. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey and drank it with the meal. When he tried to rise from the table, the man stumbled. Dean jumped up and grabbed an arm. Sam began to help, but his brother hissed at him to sit on the bed and stay there.
It took the teenager some time to undress the man on the bed. John was in a drunken stupor. The boy removed his shoes and long sleeve shirt. He left his father’s t-shirt on the man, but undid the belt and pulled both the jeans and the boxers off. The socks remained.
Dean grabbed the med kit and the extra items John had purchased. He found the forceps and began to pull the pellets out of his Father’s rear end. John moaned at times, but the alcohol had more than done its job. The boy removed twenty-three pellets from his Father. He looked up and noticed that Sam had cleaned up after their Dad’s meal and was laying on his side on the other bed.
The older boy cleaned up and got ready for bed. He climbed in next to his younger brother and turned to face his back.
“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean whispered quietly.
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam spoke softly.
“Dad was mean to you. I’m sorry,” Sam choked on the tears.
“Sammy, I’m a warrior. Dad’s training me. Commanding officers are always mean to soldiers. That’s how we learn everything and don’t forget what we're trained to do. I’m all right,” Dean comforted his brother.
Sam sniffed, dozed off, and the older boy lay there beside him and thought about what he had said.
Castiel made sure that John Winchester had alcohol-induced dreams the entire night. The angel’s favorite was for John to be running through a nightmarish forest chased by large birds with shotguns filled with ‘people’ shot. The angel sat quietly, a strange smile on his face.
Dean dragged the litter bearing his brother until the sun was straight above him and the man could feel its heat. He glanced at the sky. The clouds were gone.
“So much for rain,” the hunter muttered. He sat down on a boulder and removed his jacket and long-sleeved shirt. He found some small branches, rose to his feet and made a small shelter on the stretcher to cover Sam’s face.
“Damn it, Sammy. We’re in a mess,” he murmured. Dean sat back down and took a few sips of water. After resting for a few minutes, the older Winchester rose and knelt down beside his brother. He attempted to give the unconscious man some water. He watched it trickle down the younger man’s face and sighed.
Placing the water back in the backpack he was carrying, the hunter picked up the end of the litter and began to pull it again. He made several stops similar to this one and could never get water down his brother’s throat.
Looking at his watch, Dean noted that is was almost 5:30. He was exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and hurting. He found himself stumbling and finally sat down by his brother.
“Sammy, you need to wake up, man,” he spoke wearily. “I know you can’t do much with the leg, but damn it, Sammy; I need you.”
Dean dozed off for a short while. When the hunter awoke, the sun was setting. He could tell by the change in temperature and the darkness in some areas of the canyon. He felt trapped within its walls; not remembering it going this far.
The older brother picked up the stretcher and walked until the darkness made it impossible to go further. He sat down, wishing he was in the Impala. The main thing was to get back to the Impala, and Dean knew he was moving slow. The temperature got colder. Finally, the hunter turned on his flashlight and looked for dry timber. Stacking some wood, the young man made a fire to keep the two of them warm.
He struggled to stay awake and protect his brother, but the lack of food and the injured leg compounded the exhaustion and Dean finally fell asleep.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Dean stood still for a few moments, allowing the anger and despair to flow through him. He needed the strength from the anger. The man walked around the area, finding Sam’s shotgun. The duffel had been thrown a ways from his brother. Dean took his knife and began looking for a better group of trees and limbs than where he was attacked. He cut a large number of branches, dragging them to where Sam lay unconscious.
The older man found a lot of plant life that looked and felt like rope. He had no idea what it was, but was grateful for it. Dean turned his brother over onto his back. He made a splint and set the leg. Sam screamed. The older man jumped when it happened. He turned the flashlight to look at his brother’s face. Sam was still unconscious. Dean bandaged his brother’s head and left him lying where he’d found him.
For the next hour or so, Dean made a stretcher from the branches, vines, and leaves he found in the canyon. He could tell the sun had risen but the sky was gray. He looked up at the clouds and hoped it would not rain.
Exhaustion was setting in and the pain from the scratches began to intensify. Dean realized he was stupid not have taken care of that, but his fear over Sam blotted it out of his mind. Going to the duffel with the first aid kit, He took out water, the bottle of whiskey, and some antiseptic ointment. It was difficult to tend to the wounds on the back of his leg, but he did the best he could. He tied the shotguns to Sam’s duffel and laid it on the stretcher.
Taking a deep breath, Dean lifted his brother and placed him on the stretcher. He carefully tied the young man to the stretcher to keep him from falling off. Walking towards the head of the stretcher, Dean leaned down and picked up the handles that were the remainder of the sides of the framework. Gritting his teeth, he turned to where his back was toward the stretcher and began to drag it.
Sam dropped the water, grabbed his shotgun, and ran towards the sound of the shot he’d heard. Fifty feet down the boulder ridden canyon, he caught his foot between smaller rocks and left the ground as he fell. The shotgun hit the ground somewhere in front of him. Sam had heard a snap when he stepped between the rocks, and felt a large pain as he hit the ground and everything went black.
Dean lifted himself off the ground, his right leg throbbing. He winced as he picked up his shotgun. He looked at the man lying on the ground near him. A short time earlier, a large cat jumped him from behind. He’d felt its claws scrape down his leg. The hunter had fallen forward but had managed to hold on to his weapon. Dean rolled over and shot into the air at the large cat that was leaping onto him. It fell, dead, on top of him. The cat had been heavy and knocked the air out of him. Gasping for breath, he pushed the man off of him.
The skin walker was dead. Dean thought he’d heard his brother call his name. He called Sam’s name but heard no reply. He could feel blood oozing from the cuts on his leg. The man swore under his breath. The moon had gone behind some clouds. He looked up with some curiosity. Clouds in the desert? The hunter wondered how often it actually rained there.
His leg was hurting, but it didn’t seem to be pouring blood. He had to find Sam. His brother had the duffel with the first aid kit. The hunter looked for a large stick, or limb off some of the mesquite trees, he could use to help him walk with the injured leg. Finding nothing appropriate, Dean cursed again and headed in the direction his brother’s voice had come from.
Forty-five minutes later, the older Winchester saw something on the ground in the distance. He focused his flashlight and saw his brother.
Dean hurried as fast as his leg would allow and reached his brother’s side. He fell to the ground and began to check the man for wounds. Sam’s left leg looked wrong. Dean felt it and a bone moved. He groaned deep inside. His brother had a cut and a lump on his forehead.
“Damn it, Sammy. What are we supposed to do now?” Dean reached for his cell forgetting there was no signal. He sat by his brother, exhaustion and a feeling of despair going through him.
“What the hell do I do?” Thoughts of Cas went through his mind, but after what happened with Alfie, Dean was afraid to call his friend.
The hunter took another bottle of water out of his duffel and searched for Sam’s. It had been dropped in the fall, but Dean had no idea about that. He managed to get up and began his search.
The older Winchester leaned his head back and stared at the stares.
A lone wail could be heard echoing over the canyons, as he cried out in frustration.
Three hours later, John had not returned. Dean had almost called Bobby, but knew the trouble it would bring on. John Winchester was angry enough to report the older hunter.
Sam mumbled about no food and dug through the duffels in hopes of finding something. Dean shook his head, knowing his brother would find nothing. John didn’t always eat if he had alcohol.
“Hey, Dean!” an excited voice interrupted the older boy’s thoughts.
“Yeah, Sammy,” the teen answered.
“Dad left his emergency wallet in his duffel,” the boy replied eagerly.
Dean moved from the window and knelt down by his father’s duffel. The wallet had over one hundred dollars in it. The older boy looked into his brother’s eyes.
“Let’s walk over to the Kettle and eat supper. I’ll bring something home for Dad. He’s out drinking somewhere, Sammy.”
“Okay!” Sam was hungry. Dean smiled and walked over to the table and picked up the keys.
The two boys ate a large meal and Dean ordered a steak, baked potato, salad, pie, and a coffee for his Dad. The older boy paid for the meal.
It was getting dark when they walked back to the motel. Dean and was laughing at something his younger brother was saying. He looked up and stopped, the smile leaving his face. Sam followed his brother’s gaze. The Impala was parked in front of their room.
“We didn’t do anything wrong, did we Dean”
The taller brother looked down at the younger one. He forced a small smile on his face.
“No, we didn’t, Sammy. Dad didn’t come back. We had to eat. You’re a growing boy.”
Sam nodded in relief and the two walked to their room. John was half asleep in the car. Dean had the keys. The boy bit his bottom lip and opened the door to their room. He set the food on the table and turned to go wake his Dad when the door burst open.
“Where the hell have you been? I come back with everything and you sneak out and take your brother with you!”
"Where were you?"
“Sam was hungry. We walked over to the restaurant,” Dean’s voice shook slightly.
“You had no money,” John asserted.
“You had your emergency wallet in your duffel,” Dean whispered.
“You stole my money?”
“Dad, that’s our money. You didn’t come back. How was I to know if you were going to?”
“You little bastard! You don’t talk to me that way and you don’t steal from me,” John shouted as he stumbled towards his oldest son.
Dean panicked, “Dad, you gonna start something in front of Sam?”
John stopped, looked at the fear on the face of his youngest boy.
“I got you food and then I can take care of the wounds, Dad?”
“I’m not hungry,” the man slurred.
“Dad, you can’t do this on a stomach full of alcohol and no food. You’re gonna end up puking your guts out.”
John’s bloodshot eyes stared into this son’s. He nodded and moved towards the table. Dean released a deep breath.
Castiel had been ready to take on the drunken man, knowing he’d be recalled and both boys would have seen him. He shook his head and sat across from the man, giving him a glaring look.
Dean sat on one bed and watched his brother move away from the table and give him a questioning stare. He shook head and motioned for Sam to sit next him. The boy obeyed for a change.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
John drove out of the salvage yard. His son watched him as the man pulled out on the highway. John was grimacing and biting his lower lip. Dean was concerned.
“Dad, we need to get a motel room and let me take care of you,” the boy urged.
“I’m gonna drive awhile,” John answered.
“You need to let me take a look at you and get those pellets out. You’re not gonna feel any better until we do, Dad.”
“I said I’m gonna drive. I’m sure as hell not going to let you anywhere near my ass,” the older man responded sarcastically.
Dean was surprised by his Dad’s remarks. He couldn’t think of any reason why his Father would be afraid of him.
Castiel, sitting in the back seat with Sam, smiled. He wanted John Winchester to beware of his son. His charge ought to hate his father, not worship him. If the older man was afraid of his son, maybe he would back off and let the boy be a boy.
Fifty miles out of town, Dean saw a motel.
“Dad? Can we stop for the night? There’s a store next to the place. I can pick up what’s not in the first aid kit.”
Swearing, violently, John pulled into the motel parking lot. He got out of the car, slamming the door. Dean turned pale, but got out of the car, telling Sam to help him grab the duffels. When John walked back out, the boys were waiting.
“We’re in 127,” he said, throwing the keys at Dean.
“Where are you going,” his son asked, grabbing the keys.
“I’ll get what’s needed, some food, and some whiskey.”
“Dad, you don’t need the whiskey,” Dean said softly.
“You’re not touching my ass unless I’m drunk,” John yelled at his son as he pulled out of the parking lot.
Castiel laughed, looking towards Heaven in hopes that Father was not offended.
Dean had forgotten how cold a desert could turn at night. He walked across the sands, keeping his flashlight turned off. The light of the full moon was enough for him. He had dropped Sam off at the other end of the dry river bed they were following. The idea had been to trap the skin walker between them. This one was taking on the form of a mountain lion. Both the rifle and handgun he carried were loaded with silver bullets.
The river bed entered a canyon. Sam felt nervous upon entering the area. The skin walker could be above him as well as in front of him. It was taking time to go among the boulders in the canyon. He had worn only a blue jean jacket and the temperature was dropping fast.
Dean climbed among the boulders on his side of the river bed, wondering how close Sam was to him. He was not happy about the canyon and being separated while in it. Every ounce of information they had gathered said it was just a dry river bed. The Shaman on the reservation had not told them everything.
Sam took the time to look at his watch in the moonlight. It was three in the morning. He rubbed his eyes and kept going. He hoped Dean didn’t get too frustrated and do something stupid. It should never have taken this long, but the boulder ridden canyon was a surprise. He cursed the fact that there had been no WIFI in the area. He felt they had been misled. The younger Winchester wanted to find his brother first, then the skin walker.
Dean found the silence nerve wracking. He would walk a ways, than climb amongst the boulders, looking for signs of a large cat. The man found nothing.
Sam looked at his watch and saw that it was after four in the morning. He sat for a moment and pulled bottled water from his backpack. After a long drink, the young hunter screwed the cap back on the bottle. He turned to place it in his backpack when he heard a gunshot echoing through the canyon.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Sam stood in shock as his father hit the ground, cursing like a sailor. Dean got up off the ground. He stared at his Dad, than turned towards Bobby.
“You shot him? Why did you shoot him? I wanted to go with him.”
“Dean, your Dad beat the crap out of you and left you alone for a week. I could have gone and gotten Sam. Any hunter would have done it. Sam, did your Dad beat you?”
The younger Winchester turned his head towards Bobby. He shook his head ‘no’ and looked at his brother.
“Dean, did he beat you?”
“No, Sam. I fell.”
“Cut the crap, Son. I saw you a week later. The nurse and I both knew you were lying. She kept quiet to keep you two out of foster homes, but your Dad pissed her off so bad she called him in. You need to realize you don’t deserve what he does to you.”
“He’s my Dad, Bobby. He’s doing the best he can. I messed up….Big Time. I earned what I got.”
“Dean! You and Sam get in the car. Now!”
The older boy stared at his father and the older hunter. He trembled slightly. Castiel walked towards him and put his arms around his charge, knowing Dean wouldn’t feel it. The angel prayed that Father would at least let some of his grace and peace flow into the boy.
“I’m sorry, Bobby. We gotta go. Dad needs us.”
“Dean, don’t let him hurt you again. You call me if you need me, Boy.”
“I’ll be fine, Bobby. Come on, Sam.”
Bobby walked over to the man lying on the ground. He nudged him with his foot.
“Get up, John. It’s just bird shot. The pellets can be pulled out with tweezers. Might take a while, but it will give you some notion of what it’s like to have someone you know and trust hurt you. Maybe you’ll see your son through different eyes next time.”
“You won’t see them again, Bobby.”
“I figure I will. You can’t behave yourself long enough to protect them and they will need me.”
“Dean’s old enough to not need help and babying any longer.”
“You’re a fool, John. You’ll lose him one of these days.”
John smiled, “I don’t think so. He’s trained better than most.”
“You should be proud of him, John. He’s a good kid.”
“He does make me proud at times.”
John gingerly got into the car and grimaced.
Dean looked back at Bobby, an excited expression on his face.
“He’s proud of me, Bobby. I need to take care of him. Let’s go, Sam.”
The younger boy stared at all three men. He knew something wasn’t right, but he wasn’t sure what it was.
Castiel sat in the back seat with Sam. Dean rode shotgun.
Bobby watched the Impala leave the salvage yard. He was worried about both boys, but Dean was the main concern. John didn’t beat Sam.
Two days later, Sam answered the phone and heard his Dad’s voice.
“Hi, Sammy,” the oldest Winchester spoke softly with a smile in his voice.
“Dad! Where are you?”
“I’m about an hour away. You and Dean have your things on the porch. Bobby really doesn’t want me there, so we’ll make a quick getaway.”
“Okay, Dad. I’ll let Dean know.”
“Don’t bother Bobby with this. Okay, Son?”
Sam ran outside, looking for his brother. Dean was helping Bobby work on a truck. He was good with his hands and was a quick learner. The hunter was grateful for the boy’s help.
Bobby looked up as Sam walked up to the truck. The boy stood and quietly watched the two as they began to put the transmission back under the vehicle. Dean finally looked up at his brother. The quiet was deafening. He frowned as he noticed the boy grimacing and nodding at him.
“Bobby, I’m gonna head to the house and use the bathroom. I’ll be back in a few.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and clean up, Son. The worse is done. I only have to tighten a few bolts,” the man suggested.
Dean responded with an “Okay” and walked back to the house.
Sam told him about the phone call. Dean nodded and asked him to pack their stuff while he showered.
Bobby was in the shower when the boys took their things to the porch and came back into the house. Both boys were glad he was bathing when they saw the Impala. Dean was nervous as he walked onto the porch.
John got out of the car and looked around. He nodded at his sons.
Sam grinned and said, “He’s in the shower, Dad.”
“Good,” John told his boys. “Put your things in the car.”
The two picked up their duffels and walked towards their father. Castiel was frantic and nudged Bobby as the man tied his shoes. The hunter walked into the living room and looked out the window. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed the shotgun and ran out the door into the yard.
John froze. “Boys, put your things in the car, now.” Dean turned and saw Bobby aim the shotgun. The boy ran towards the older man and grabbed at his arm, trying to pull him off center and lose his aim.
“Damn it, boy, let me go,” Bobby yelled.
Castiel intervened and Dean fell, yelling, “Run, Dad!”
John saw the shotgun aimed at him and turned and ran towards the Impala.
One blast was heard, followed quickly by a deafening scream.
Dean sat there, blood slowly seeping from the head wound, face covered with grease, and the green eyes were wide open.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call, Dean. I had a lot of things I had to make right. I didn’t want to talk to you at the time. I needed to know I was making the decision because it was what I wanted to do.”
Dean got to his feet and grabbed his brother.
“Are you all right? Where did you go?”
“I’m okay. I had to take care of the dog and talk to Don, Amelia’s husband. I wanted him to know I no longer loved her and I was out of her life.”
“Sammy, she’s dead.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that. I don’t intend to tell him the truth. Do you?”
“Where’s the dog?”
The younger Winchester grinned, “With Kevin and Mrs. Tran.”
Dean stared in surprise, “Really?”
“Yeah, all three are getting along just fine.”
Sam looked at the work his brother had been doing, “Are you rebuilding Bobby’s?”
“Yeah. Garth is doing his job, so I thought I’d have a place to work from. I don’t want to hunt every minute of the day. I told Garth to let me know when he had a hunt no one could handle or if he had no one available. Sheriff Rhodes has most of Bobby’s books. I’m building the house over the panic room.”
“Okay. Are you planning on running Bobby’s business?”
“I’m rebuilding the cars, Sammy. I hope to sell them and make a little cash. There’s some old classics back there.”
The younger brother looked around him, thinking as he took in what Dean had done.
“I think Winchester Brothers Salvage would work,” Sam suggested.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, but we keep the hunting skills honed.”
“Winchester Brothers sounds fine to me,” Dean smiled.
Castiel interrupted the reunion, “You will need a place to stay.”
“I found an old travel trailer in the back. It’s workable for now.”
Sam opened his cell, “Hey, Garth. Dean and I are staying as a team, so call if and when you need us. Once the house is built, we’ll have Bobby’s books back.”
Sam listened with a grin on his face.
“He says he has them.”
“Bobby told him about one of his stashes, Sammy. We have copies of those and of everything he had. Bobby made sure there was enough to go around if anything happened.”
“Let me find a place where I can set up an office around here.”
The angel left the two brothers working on the business and building a house. He knew they would still hunt, but for the time being, they were rebuilding the only home and real relationship they ever knew.
Sam looked at his brother. “Dean, I will probably still get frustrated with the things you do, but I understand why you do them. I can cope with that. It’s part of being a family.“
“That works for me, Sammy. There’s a room in that old building over there. It could be turned into an office. You’re going to need some things for keeping records,” Dean said, smiling through the grease. “Of course, you might want to get all the grease off you.”
Sam began to feel the old irritation, but he smiled, “If I’m going to work with a grease monkey, I’ll end up being covered with it any way. He caught the Impala keys as Dean threw them at him.
“Before I go, I’ll get the first aid kit and fix your head.”
Dean sat on the ice chest and smiled, happy for the first time in years. He sighed and leaned his injured head against the side of the car.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
I started out having one chapter here, but I like the idea of two chapters, so this is not the end of the story. I hope you enjoy. -Tisha
Dean stayed at the cabin for two weeks. He was restless and was trying to bury the fears he was feeling deep within himself. Sam had not been in touch and the hunter knew he would still have to function.
The man paced back and forth in the large living room of the cabin. He had fought well with Cas and Benny, but they weren’t Sam.
After the third week with no word, Dean almost called his brother. He changed his mind. He’d given Sammy time to make up his mind. It wouldn’t be right to call him.
Two days into the fourth week with no calls, Dean packed his duffel and loaded the Impala. There were snack foods in the kitchen pantry. He took those to keep him from having to stop often. The hunter filled the ice chest with drinks from the kitchen and placed the bags of food and the chest in the back floorboard of his baby.
On the fourth day of the fourth week, Sam returned. He noticed that the Impala was gone and panicked. Running into the house, he looked for some message from his brother, calling for the angel at the same time.
Castiel appeared in front of him.
“What is wrong, Sam?”
“This is almost the end of four weeks. I doubt either of us would expect him to stay here. It would be unlike him to wait this long. Knowing how he thinks, he would have thought you were not coming back.”
“Damn it,” Sam said in frustration, taking out his cell.
Dean’s phone went to voice mail.
“Dean, I’m standing on the porch of the cabin with Cas. Where the hell are you?”
After disconnecting the call, Sam turned towards the angel. “Well? What do we do now?”
“We wait. I do not know where he is. The sigils on his ribs make it impossible to find him.”
Sam opened his cell and made another call.
“Hey, Garth? …..Yeah, this is Sam…..Have you…..What?”
Sam listened. “Thanks, Man. I owe you one.”
Sam turned to the angel, shaking his head.
“He’s in South Dakota, cleaning up Bobby’s old place. From what I can gather from Garth, he’s drunk most of the time.”
“Do you need the car?”
“No….I,” Sam never finished the sentence. The two of them were standing in the salvage yard. They found Dean beneath a car, cursing as he tried to loosen a bolt. There were beer bottles everywhere.
Sam gently kicked the bottom of one of his brother’s boots. They heard a clanking noise as Dean’s head came up and he hit the underside of the car.
“Son of a bitch!”
The older Winchester crawled out from under the car, holding his head. He was yelling, “What the hell do you want?”
“To come home,” was Sam’s reply.