So I just started writing today and this is what happened.
Fresh from the desk of a twelfth grade nothing.
He felt like he was floating in midair. He thought that the fact that he was cold and couldn't hear anything should probably scare him, but he couldn't bring himself to worry about it. He just felt so damn peaceful down here that he didn't even care about not remembering how he got here in the first place. The water surrounding him was clear and dark, so he assumed it was nighttime. He could see the moon shining bright above him as proof. He felt his eyes start to close as the last bubbles slipped from between his lips. Then there was nothing.
John watched as the witch sneaked up behind Dean, writing in the chair he was tied to as he realized he could do nothing. The gag over his mouth prevented him from calling out and Dean was too far away to hear his struggles. The woman placed a bony hand on the side of Dean's head, her palm pressed against him temple. Dean looked right at John then; the younger Winchester's bright green irises glowed blue and stayed that eerie glowing shade. Dean stood up straight, like a soldier at attention – and damn if that wasn't ironic. Dean's expression was blank and he stared straight ahead at nothing. The witch laughed and pointed at John. The eldest Winchester watched as his son pulled a silver knife out of his boot sheath and started walking towards him. Dean moved to stab John, who was slightly freaked out by his son's emotionless face. Suddenly, he stopped. John watched as Dean pulled back and stood up straight again.
"You're a fool, John Winchester." John was startled by the witch's gravelly voice. She was staring at him angrily.
"I can see your boy's heart; his thoughts and his feelings. He does everything you ask of him and yet, you treat him like a dog. You feed him, you give him shelter – if you would call nearly uninhabitable motel rooms shelter – and you take him for 'walks' much like this evening," She growled.
"They say you don't realize what you have until it's gone. Well, you need to realize what you have." John struggled again as he understood her words. She looked at Dean and Dean began to walk out the door. The bridge was visible from John's seat, and he watched as his eldest son walked to it before getting up on the rails. John screamed as much as the gag allowed when he watched Dean take the step off the edge. The window was open, so he heard the one splash and then silence. He strained against the ropes binding him for what seemed like eternity. He struggled until his wrists were bloody and painful. He struggled as tears slid down his face. For the first time in years, he begged god to save his boy. He begged for his boy to regain his own consciousness and save himself. When he slumped in his chair, tears flooding down his cheeks, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"I don't know why you came to hunt me, I haven't killed anyone. I simply teach lessons. The one who has been killing people around here is in the next town," the witch told him. John felt the ropes disappear.
"You can still save him, but I will be keeping an ear out for you both. If I feel you haven't learned your lesson, I'll have to intervene again. Treat that boy right. He can still have a life outside of the hunt if you'll only let him go. He's not as trapped in this life as you both might think. That brother of his is what he needs and what you're keeping him from. He hasn't told you, but he misses him more than he can bear for much longer." The witch pulled him into a standing position.
"Go save your wife's son." John felt a wave of regret as she said this. Dean was the last piece of Mary that he had left. Dean had her soft, blond hair. Dean had her expressive emerald eyes. Dean laughed like Mary, and was so much like his mother that it hurt sometimes. John left the woman as he ran to the bridge. He dove headfirst into the water without regard for his own health. The liquid was so icy that it hurt when it touched his skin. He pushed himself deeper and deeper as he scoured the river for his boy. He caught sight of him where the moonlight cut through the water, illuminating his son. Dean's pale skin looked almost white and the lack of bubbles coming from his mouth created an even greater sense of urgency. He grabbed Dean's arms and pushed the both of them to the surface and back to the shore. Once on dry land, John started CPR. After ten excruciating minutes, minutes where he was sure only the witch was keeping him from failing because anyone else would certainly be dead by now, Dean choked and coughed and threw up water. John kneeled beside his twenty three year old as Dean heaved water and bile.
"Dean." John wasn't even aware that he had said Dean's name aloud.
"Dad, what – what happened to me?" Dean asked him, panting heavily.
"It doesn't matter," John said. "It doesn't matter, Ace." John pulled Dean into his arms and hugged him close. Both of them were soaked and cold, and Dean was completely and totally exhausted. Dean listed heavily against his father, for once not caring about needing help or comfort.
"Dad," Dean said softly, "Dad, what did I do?"
"You didn't do anything," John said, rubbing Dean's back soothingly. "It was the curse." John held his eldest close, feeling warmth coming back to his son's icy skin. John hugged him so tight that he might have been able to put together all the hugs he neglected to give his boy all these years. Dean rested his head against John's shoulder, relaxing against his father and letting his guard down. Dean's shoulders slumped and he gripped his father's flannel shirt tightly in his hand.
"Dad?" Dean asked quietly, his voice just below a whisper.
"Yeah, son?" John matched the younger man's voice.
"It's okay."
"What's okay?" John asked.
"You know," Dean sighed, "that thing we haven't talked about since I was five." John didn't know what he was talking about.
"What do you mean?"
"You couldn't look at me for almost a year after mom died." Dean shook his head, dispelling some of the water in his hair. John looked at Dean and realized what Dean was alluding to.
"Oh, Dean, I didn't mean –"
"I know. You didn't mean that you didn't love me," Dean said. John was silent. Dean had thought John didn't love him?
"Dean, I –"
"It's okay, Dad. I know now." Dean's eyes were closed and his voice was slurring.
"Dean, I do love you. It was just hard for me then, and I felt so bad about it, but it hurt too much. You're like your mother in so many ways and you've always been like her and it hurt too much back then. I'm so sorry that you thought I didn't love you, but I'm telling you now. You and Sam are the most important things in the world to me." John stuttered a bit on Sam's name, but kept going. "All I want is for you boys to be safe and happy. I know I pushed your brother away, but I did it so that he would have a better life. I thought it would be better for us."
"He's safe, Dad, he's okay. I checked up on him last month," Dean said softly. "I know you love us, Dad."
"Dean, you can go."
"What?" Dean's brow furrowed, but his emerald eyes stayed closed.
"Bobby told me about those acceptance letters you had mailed to his house. That was one of the things we fought about when we were last there. I know you got accepted to a bunch of colleges, son. I'm telling you that you can go, you can leave this life behind and it's okay."
"I don't want to go to college, Dad. I just wanted to see if I was as dumb as everyone always thinks."
"And?"
"I got accepted to Harvard." Dean smiled a little at that.
"I knew you were smart. I knew you were just lazy," John teased lightly.
"'s all part of my charm."
"You can go though. You can get out of here and it's okay."
"I don't want to go to school," Dean assured him.
"Then just get out. You could meet a nice girl and live long enough to see your grandkids."
"Think I'll go live with Sammy if he's okay with it. If he's still mad, I'll get a job with Bobby. Not hunting though, just with the cars. Think I'll have an advantage over anyone else tryin' to get a job with him."
"I think Sam's mad at me, not you," John reminded Dean.
"But he won't talk to me, so he might be mad at me too." Dean's voice had all but quit as he struggled to stay awake for John.
"Don't worry, son, you're gonna be just fine." John stood, ignoring his creaking knees and pulling Dean up with him. He practically dragged Dean to the Impala, but went back to the house after putting him in the front seat. The witch was sitting inside and watched him approach.
"Thank you," John said. She nodded and gave him a little smile.
"If I find out you hurt anyone," John started.
"I won't, but I give you permission to hunt me if I do." She nodded again. He turned and walked out, back to his son.
It was three months later when he saw his boys again. Dean had left about a week after the witch incident, and had moved into an apartment with Sam. He had gotten a job at a local garage and met Sam's girlfriend. It took him those three months to convince Sam to meet up with John and talk things out. True to his word, Sam hadn't tried to start anything. John explained that he had wanted Sam to get out of the life and that's why he had said not to come back. Dean had been there to referee, but for once it wasn't necessary. Sam had forgiven John, and vice versa, for words that shouldn't have been said. Sam promised to keep in touch and John had promised to pick up the phone whenever he was able. Dean had grinned at them and looked like a huge weight had been taken off of his shoulders. The other two Winchesters realized then what their fighting had done to him, being stuck in the middle and having to choose between them, and had apologized to him. Dean had brushed the apologies off and instead hugged the two of them. He grinned and told them that the past was the past and it couldn't be changed. He said that it didn't matter anymore because everything was fixed now, or at least would be fixed soon. They had spent the next couple of days catching up. When they said goodbye, Sam had hugged John and John had hugged back.
John hoped he never saw that witch again. Yeah, she had cursed Dean for just a little while, but she had also managed to fix their broken little family
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