SUMMARY Dean has a nightmare while Sam is away at Stanford and his father helps him through it.

Dean has always been a stoic guy. Everyone knew it. He never let his feeling out. Every time someone would ask him to let it all out he would simply say "no chick-flick moments" and they would stop asking. Assuming if he didn't want to talk about it, he must be fine.

Now John Winchester knew better than them. Dean was his son, his little boy. And he could see right through him. John knew Dean was having a hard time lately ever since that man died on a hunt that John assigned him. He tried to tell him that it wasn't his fault because things happen like that sometimes, but nothing helped. All John wanted was to see his son happy again. Though, he hasn't been truly happy since the night his mom died.

It was 2:32 in the morning. John and Dean were asleep at a motel they had rented because of a case in town. John was sleeping peacefully while Dean on the other hand was having a rough time.

He was in a dark room with one single light. He tried to move but found himself unable. Dean looked down and saw he was chained to a chair and overtime he'd move it'd get tighter. "well look at you" a voice said and Dean whipped his head to the right only to see his mom in the dress she wore the night she died. "m-mom?" Dean said. "m-mom?" Mary mocked him. She scoffed "Dean, Dean, Dean. What a poor excuse for a son." She knelt down in front of him and Dean squeezed his eyes shut. "You know I never loved you. You HAVE to know that by now right?" Not satisfied by Deans silence, Mary backhanded him across the face. Dean cried out. Not necessarily from physical pain, but from the thought of the mother he still loved hurting him. Then Dean looked up and saw the man that died a few weeks ago on the hunt his dad assigned him. He wasn't much older than Dean with black hair and a scruffy beard. "you remember him don't you?" Mary asked. "Jackson Stone. The man who's blood is on your hands. He died trying to help you kill that Wendigo. Remember?" Dean was quiet again so Mary slapped him once more. "REMEMBER?" she roared. "y-yes I remember" He whimpered. Jackson walked up to him and he was holding a knife. Dean eyed it cautiously. Jackson bent down so that they were eye level. "hiya Deany" With a slash of his knife, Dean felt pain in his cheek. "Why are you d-doing this?" he asked. "I don't need a reason Deano. I just hate you for killing me." And with that Jackson grabbed the blade of the knife and rammed the handle into Deans ribs causing excruciating pain. Dean screamed.

John was always a heavy sleeper. However when it came to his boys, he had a sixth sense that would allow him to awaken at the quietest noises they made. So when John awoke to Deans tossing and turning he sat up and turned on the lamp. "Dean?" He asked in a groggy voice, rubbing his eyes. Then came the whimpering. John looked over expecting a monster but when he saw the Dean was safe in his bed, he knew the monster was attacking his sleep. He rushed over to Deans bed and started to shake him but Dean wouldn't wake up. "Hey, come on son, wake up." "mom" Dean whimpered again and Johns blood went cold. "no. No please. NO" Dean started screaming and thrashing around so John left into his sons bed, wrapped his arms around Deans flailing ones, and rested his back against the headboard so that Deans. back was against his chest. "Shh. It's okay. C'mon wake up!" "PLEASE. I'M SORRY. STOP" The sleeves of Johns nightshirt were becoming wet with tears. "shh. Shh." John rocked them back and forth until suddenly Dean bolted up.

He looked around disoriented and then faced John. "d-d-dad?" he asked. John's heart broke. His usually strong and brave son looked so hurt and lost. He had only seen Dean cry two other times since his mom died. "yeah son I'm here. You were dreaming" "oh" Deans voice broke and he started crying again. "Dammit kiddo, come here" John forced Dean into his arms and Dean lay there, his head on his dads chest, crying as a small child would after a bad dream. Only this was Johns small child battling a bad dream. "Shh Dean. It's okay. You're okay" John stroked Deans back. "it was Jackson and Mom, dad, they hurt me" Dean cried, his voice muffled by Johns shirt. "I promise. They aren't going to hurt you anymore sweetheart." Dean cringed at the pet name. Thats what Jackson called him. But maybe it was okay since it was his dad.

"im not going to let anyone hurt you." "dad?" "yeah son?" "did I kill Jackson?" "no. God no. you didn't kill anyone. it wasn't your fault you understand?" Dean nodded tiredly. "thank you" "anytime." Seeing that Dean was practically asleep John went to get out of bed but Dean grabbed his shirt. "wait." Dean looked up at him. "can…can you stay with me?" Dean asked looking down sheepishly, whispering the last few words. John placed his hands on both of Deans cheeks. "of course I will." And with that they both repositioned themselves so that Dean was laying on Johns stomach face down. John kept rubbing circles on Deans back and gave him a little massage. "I'll be here when you wake up my baby boy." John kissed Deans head and they both fell into a peaceful sleep.

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Well there ya go! I hope you all enjoyed this tooth rotting fluff! Please leave reviews and give ideas for another story! I'm open to all!