Desert Song Chapter Fourteen

        Walking out of the canyon was taking its toll on both of the Winchesters.  The injured legs made the going slow, but the coughing fits Dean was experiencing brought him to the ground.  Sam noticed the blood and worried.

        The hours passed slowly as the heat of the sun drained the strength from both of the men.  Dean slid to ground and sat still.

        “Dean, we have to keep going,” Sam insisted.

        “I can’t, Sam,” the tired voice was barely a whisper.  “I don’t have anything left.  I can’t do it.”

        “Get up, Dean.  You’re not staying behind to face those things alone.  Get the hell up, now!”

        The older hunter looked up at his brother.  Sam could see the dark circles below the green eyes.  He knew his brother was in a bad way, but he also knew he’d die if Sam left him there.

        “You’re not dying on me, Dean.  Are you gonna let that bastard win?”

        The hunter stared into his brother’s hazel eyes. “No,” he whispered and struggled to rise.  Sam reached down and helped the best he could.

        The two men struggled in the dark, stopping for rest breaks.  Another attack occurred while the two men were walking.  Dean was knocked to the ground with another mountain lion on top of him.  Sam shot the cat and watched it fall on top of his brother.

        With Sam’s help, Dean was able to push the man off.  Sam examined his brother and found some bites on his neck.  Bandaging them, the younger brother gave the older man a drink of water and another antibiotic.

        “Let’s keep going, man,” he spoke softly.

        Dean sighed, held up a hand for help.  “I didn’t know you were into torture, Sammy.  I need to remember that next time we have to question someone.”

        Smiling, the younger man, grabbed the shotgun he’d dropped and the two men continued to help each other through the canyon.

Snippets One Hundred Forty-One: Repercussions

Dean spent the next two weeks worrying about John’s return.    The boy knew his Dad was going to be angry, and he deserved whatever the man decided for punishment.  He winced when it crossed his mind. 

        Sam was nervous and quiet.  His big brother felt guilty for being the cause of the boy’s fears.  The younger boy didn’t understand that Dean was the one who would take the punishment.  John would be angry, but Sammy would be safe.  Dean would protect him.  He always would.

        Castiel watched the older brother with concern.  Dean was not eating and sleep was difficult for the boy.  No one should be that afraid of their parent.  The angel was angry, but was not sure what he would be allowed to do.  It was his job to guard and protect the older boy.  He wanted to do his job and do it well.

        Late one evening, the sound of the Impala’s engine could be heard and both boys stared at the door.  John Winchester entered the house.  The older boy rose to his feet when he smelled the alcohol.  Their Father had been drinking heavily. 

        Dean walked towards his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder.

        “Go to bed, Sam,” the teen told the boy, softly.

        The younger boy looked up at the brother and shook his head, “No,” he responded.

        Dean looked down into his brother’s eyes.  “I said go to bed, Sammy.  I can’t take care of both of us right now.  You gotta go.  Please, Sammy.”

        There was a tremor in the older boy’s voice and the younger one recognized the fear in it.  He looked at their Dad and remembered how his brother had looked after Flagstaff.  Sam turned and walked towards their bedroom.

        Castiel stood in the corner of the room and watched.  He had made a decision.

        Dean went to his father.  “Here, Dad, let me help you.  Have you eaten?”

        “Where are the fireworks, Dean?”

        “We shot them off, Dad.  You had a hunt, so Sammy and I celebrated the Fourth of July alone.”  

        “I didn’t tell you to shoot those off.  How’d you get out of town.”

        “I hot-wired a car, Dad.  We drove out of town.”

        “Did you cause that damn fire?  It ruined a man’s entire hay crop.  You boys could’ve been in bad trouble.  I would not have been able to get you out of it.”   

        Dean looked at the blood shot eyes and could hear the whiskey talking through his Father’s drunken voice.

        “I’m sorry, Dad. I won’t disobey you again.  I promise,” the boy spoke respectfully.

        The older Winchester slapped the boy, leaving a large red welt on the left cheekbone.  Dean stepped back, regaining his balance.

        “I can’t trust you do anything right.  I’m so damn tired of cleaning up your messes, Boy!”

        “What messes?”

        John’s fist came up but never moved any further.  An unseen hand grasped the fist and squeezed.  The older man screamed and went to his knees.  Dean’s eyes opened wide as he watched his Father writhe on the floor.

        “Dad?”

        Neither Winchester saw the angel as he squeezed on the man’s fist.

Castiel finally let go and whispered into the older Winchester’s ear, “Never lay a hand on the boy again.  The next time, I will break something.”

        In his drunken state, John heard the whisper but wasn’t sure it was real.  The pain in his fist was real, and that was enough.

Snippets One Hundred Forty: July 4, 1995 Part Three

        The boys found a lovely field surrounded by trees.  They pulled the ‘borrowed’ car off the road and set up a blanket and laid out the food they had brought.   Dean got out the ball and gloves and the two young Winchesters had a fine day playing catch and eating a lot of greasy chicken.

        As the day grew late, Dean put the blanket in the car and set out the fireworks.  Both boys sat on the hood of the old vehicle and watched the starts come out.  When it grew dark, the older boy grabbed his flashlight and made sure he had a lighter. 

        The next hour was one of rare joy for John Winchester’s sons.  They shot off bottle rockets, Saturn missiles, Roman candles and many other loud and colorful fireworks.  Halfway into the second hour, a fire started in the hay field next to the land the boys were on.  Dean grabbed the blanket and ran to the fire, trying to put it out.  There had been no rain and the hay was dry.  The fire spread like wild fire.

        “Sammy, grab everything and throw in the back seat!  We gotta make sure we leave nothing behind!”  Dean ran towards his brother and searched the grounds.  Everything went into the back seat of the car. 

        When the parked the car at the old gas station, both boys ducked as fire trucks sped past them, followed by police vehicles.

        The two Winchesters hid behind the building until everything returned from their picnic ground.  They sat on old tires and talked quietly.

        “Dean, Dad’s gonna kill us.”

        “No, Sammy. Me.. maybe, but not you.  You’re okay.”

        The angel had watched everything carefully and new that his charge was in deep trouble.  John would want to know what happened.  Castiel was not happy.  He would have to find a way to protect the boy.

Desert Song Chapter Thirteen

        Sam allowed Dean to sleep several hours, against his better judgment.  They needed every second of daylight to move toward the canyon exit and the Impala, but his brother was in worse shape than his own leg.

        The older man moaned in his sleep and woke with a jump.  He cried out in pain.  The younger hunter moved closer and put the bottle of water up to the waking man’s lips.  Dean tried to sip the water, but he was so thirsty.

        “Dean,” Sam said urgently.  “We only have a few bottles left.  Let’s take it slow.” 

        Sam watched his brother as he nodded slowly, noting the sunburn had made his freckles more dominant on his face.  He hid a small smile, remembering the man as a child.  He had teased him a couple of times about the spots. 

        “Share the joke, Sammy,” the hoarse voice spoke softly.   “I could use something funny right now.”

        “I was just remembering when we were kids, and I used to tease you about your freckles.”

        “Oh.”

        “I found enough branches to make two walking sticks, Dean.  We should be able to move a little faster that way.  You ready?”

        “Yeah, man.  Let’s get out of here.”

        Sam managed to get onto both legs and winced, but his splinting and the tight use of tape helped to hold the bones together a little better.  He reached down and handed a walking stick to his brother.

        “Thanks, Sammy,” the hunter whispered and he grabbed hold of the stick and pushed into the ground, using the stick to pick himself up.  When he managed to stand on both feet, holding himself up, he groaned and cursed, “Shit!”

        The two brothers leaned on each other’s shoulders and helped support one another.  The slow trek out of the canyon was begun.

Desert Song Chapter Twelve

        By the time the sunrise began, Dean was on his last legs. He could barely keep moving.  The clawed leg would hardly hold his weight and he could  no longer get a deep breath. 

        He stumbled through the night, refusing to stop for any length of time.  When the sun had finally risen, he looked into the distance and saw the large boulder.  

        The hunter moved slowly but steadily towards the rock that held his brother.  All he could think of was rescuing Sam and finding some way to out of the canyon and finding his Baby.  The thought of air conditioning was almost better than the thought of sex at the moment. 

        An hour later, he reached the base of the rock.  Sam was asleep and had not seen him coming.

        Dean could barely talk by this time.  He lifted a rock and tossed it towards the top of the huge boulder.  Sam jumped when heard the rock hit the top and slide off.

        The younger Winchester looked down, “Dean?”

        “Hey, Sammy,” came a hoarse reply.  “You ready to get the hell out of here?”

        “Hell, yeah,” came an excited reply.  “I thought you were dead and I’d end up dying here.”

        “Toss me the shotgun and the backpack,” the older man replied, and caught both items.   “Okay, Sammy.  Slide down to me and I’ll catch you.”

        Dean managed to break the slide and both men hit the ground; Sam on top of his brother.

        “Man, Dean.  I’m so glad to see you.”  Sam looked at his brother and saw how red and blistered his face looked.  “Are you okay?”

        “Don’t really know, Sammy.  Please tell me there’s still some water in our duffel.”

        Sam opened the duffel and took a bottle of water and handed it to his brother.  Dean was so weak at this point he could barely unscrew the cap.  The younger brother realized that there had been no water for the older man since the rains.  He took the water from the man and told him to drink it slowly or he’d just get sick.  Dean began to sip it, struggling to keep from drinking it down in one breath.

        Sam began to check his brother.  He found the massive bruises on his back, side, and front of the right side of his chest.  He stared into the injured man’s eyes and saw the pain there.

        “Damn it, Dean.  What happened?”

        The younger man listened to what his brother told him.  “Shit, Dean, how are we gonna do this?”  

        “Gotta find a better way to splint your leg and make a crutch for you.  Then, we walk outta here and we kill that son of a bitch.”

        Sam knew they had no choice, so he looked around for possible wood for a better splint.  He crawled over the damp sand of the river bed and found some pieces of wood that had drifted on the waters. 

        Looking at Dean, he decided to let him rest, gritted his teeth, and reset the splint with what he had in his duffel med kit.  He looked at his brother’s leg and groaned.  The leg had red streaks going down it and was badly swollen. 

        Sam dressed the leg and found the antibiotics in the med kit and made the older hunter take one. 

        “We’re gonna let you rest for a while and then we’ll head on.”

Dean didn’t even argue.

Snippets One Hundred Thirty-Nine: July 4, 1995 Part Two

        Castiel arrived around eight in the morning of July 4, from a mission for Father.  Dean had dozed off on the couch and Sam was still sleeping.  He saw the large box of fireworks and looked for John.  The older Winchester was nowhere in sight.  

    

        Sam walked into the room, yawning.

        “We need to wake up Dad, Dean,” he said, excitedly.

        Dean woke suddenly and looked up at his little brother.  It was at that moment, he made a decision he knew would get him in trouble.  He got his duffel out of the bedroom and emptied it.  Sam watched as his brother packed the fireworks into the bag.

        “Dean?”

        “Dad left on a two week hunt last night.  We’re gonna celebrate Independence Day on our own, Sammy.”

        “How are we gonna get out into the country?”

        “There’s an old abandoned car at the gas station at the end of town.  We’re gonna hot-wire it.”

        “Dean, we’ll get arrested!”

        “Not if no one’s using it.  It’s been sitting there.  The owner wants to sell it.  I talked to him about it two days ago.  He’s not open today.  It’s a holiday.  The pumps are open for credit cards, Sam.  We’re gonna have our holiday.  We’ll stop and get some fried chicken.  One of the convenience stores is gonna be open.  They have a deli.  I’m not letting you down.”

        Castiel stood in shock as he listened to Dean’s idea.  He wanted to stop him but felt a nudge from Father to let him go.

        ‘Father, he never disobeys John Winchester.’

        ‘It is time, my Child.  Dean has never rebelled.’

        ‘He will be punished.’

        “But this time, he will have earned it.’

        ‘How is that good, Father?’

        “Dean will learn that everything you do has a repercussion.  He needs to learn this.  Now is a good time for him to learn.  Protect him from the law, Castiel.  It is not time for him to deal with them.’

        ‘Yes, Father,’ the angel answered in a confused voice.

        Castiel followed the boys as they walked through town and stopped to buy chicken.  Sam placed it in his backpack.  They reached the closed gas station and Dean hot-wired the old car.  Using a credit card, the teen filled the car.  They backed out of the station and headed out of town. 

        All Castiel could think of was ‘Grand Theft Auto.’ as he sat in the backseat of the car.

Desert Song Chapter Eleven

        Dean walked slowly for the next five hours.  It was still daylight, but he could no longer see the sun.  Shadows filled areas of the canyon.  He hoped there would be enough moonlight to walk by when it finally grew dark.  

     

        Stumbling and falling became the norm for the injured hunter. The clawed leg kept up a steady, painful throb, and the coughing halted his progress.  With a stubbornness those who knew him could attest to, the oldest Winchester forced himself to continue on.  He had no water, no food, and no medicines to help him.  All he had was the need to get to Sam and a silver knife he kept in a sheath on his leg.

        Exhaustion and pain were making it more difficult to stay on his feet.  The hunter’s tongue felt swollen from thirst.  His lips had cracked open.  Sunburn blistered his pale skin.

        Darkness began to seep into the canyon making it hard to see.  Dean found a rock tall enough to sit on and not make it difficult to stand up again.  He wiped his forehead and coughed again.

        It was at this moment that a large cat jumped him.  He could barely see it as he went down and rolled, reaching for the blade under his pants leg.

        Listening for movement and the animal’s breathing, Dean held the blade in an attack posture.  He had no intention of fighting defensively.  In his condition, it would only kill him.

        The hunter heard a rustle to his right and forced himself to move quickly out of the way as the cat leaped into the air.  He reached up with the blade in both hands as he got a glimpse of the animal.  The silver blade entered the cat’s stomach and Dean ripped it open as he tore into it.  The large animal screamed in shrill shriek and turned into a man as it hit the ground. 

        Dean Winchester sat still on the ground beside the dead skin walker. He leaned over and pulled his knife out of the stomach as the entrails poured out behind it.   Wiping the blade off on the Native American’s leather leggings, he cried out with the pain the movement had caused.  Killing the creature had cost him dearly, but he was still alive.

        He rose to his feet, breathing hard.  “How many more of you bastards are out there?” the hunter spoke in a hoarse whisper. 

        Standing still, he held the knife in the air and shouted, “I’m still alive, you son of a bitch.  Another one of your monsters is dead!”  The older Winchester slowly turned and continued towards his brother.