Run Home
I got this idea, and reading other stories on this topic didn't help, so I wrote this and now I think I need help. I used Raven in this story, I also have her in You Can Always Come Home which I haven't finished yet, but she's not exactly the same age-wise. Also, although I like some John-hate, I don't entirely believe that he was a bad father. He could have made a few better decisions, but overall I think he did the best he could with what he knew. I made him a good dad here though because I like reading stories where he's a good dad too.
On another note, this is going to jump ahead in time at the beginning. I did this to show the most important milestones as a kind of backstory. If someone wants a specific story focusing on anything Dean may have gone through, request it in a review and I'll see if I can write a one-shot following this main story.
From the desk of a twelfth grade nothing.
UPDATED 8/5/14
It was just a scratch.
The thought ran through John's head like a chant as he urged the Impala to go faster.
It was just a scratch.
He looked in the rear-view mirror to make sure Dean was still conscious and still applying pressure to the wound.
It was just a scratch.
"You okay back there, Ace?" he asked, maybe a little louder than was necessary.
"Yeah, Dad, 'm fine." His thirteen-year-old plastered a small smile on his face to convince both John and himself, but wasn't really fooling either of them.
It was just a scratch.
They arrived back at the motel and John stitched up Dean's arm; Dean didn't complain once and only let out tiny whimpers so that Sammy wouldn't wake up. John ordered himself to calm down as Dean's eyes started to close.
It was just a scratch.
"Go to bed, son," John ordered gently. Dean nodded and slowly, carefully, climbed into bed beside his little brother who had, thankfully, slept through the whole ordeal. John stepped outside – but stayed right beside the door – and continued to tell himself that Dean was going to be okay.
It was just a scratch.
Inside the room, Dean was trying his best not to panic. He reached down to feel the puncture wound on his ankle, the injury he hadn't told Dad about, feeling the holes that still burned and sent pain shooting up his leg. He tried to slow his breathing. He knew what this meant. He waited until his dad walked outside before he slipped from the sheets. He was careful not to wake Sammy. He grabbed his duffle bag and went to the window. As he slipped out it and into the night, he stopped and looked back at his little brother.
"Goodbye, Sammy," he whispered to the silent room. "I love you, don't you ever forget that."
And then he was gone.
It had been a month; a month on his own. He had resorted to conning people, hustling pool and poker where he could, and pick-pocketing. Tonight was the night though. It was the night of the full moon, and he was so scared of what would happen next. He secluded himself in a forest and hoped that no one decided to go for a night hike. He watched the moon as it steadily rose in the sky. He could just feel it coming. Before long, he was writhing on the ground; pain was blossoming all over his body as his bones and his muscles and his organs rearranged themselves. He lay still after it was over, panting heavily and feeling different all over. He waited until he had caught his breath before he stood up on all fours. He took a few steps forward, trusting his body to move how he wanted it to even though it just felt slightly wrong. He found a stream nearby and looked into it for his reflection. He let out a startled yelp as he came face to face with the image of a white wolf's face. He stepped back and looked at the rest of his body, surprised to see that the pure white fur was interrupted by bold streaks of golden-brown fur; it was exactly the color of his hair. He looked back in the stream to find that his eyes were also the same brilliant shade of green that they usually were. He turned himself around a bit and took everything around him in. Everything seemed different now, more full of life. He took in the world from this new point of view and briefly wondered why he was still himself after he had shifted, before he took off running at the scent of a rabbit nearby.
Four months later
Transformations had become painless after that first one. It was like fluid; one minute he was a man, the next he was man's best friend. They became as natural as breathing. He also discovered that he didn't have to wait for the moon. The first transformation was the only time he had required it. If he didn't shift on the full moon, he felt itchy, but that was a minor inconvenience. He had gone for about a month without shifting back to his human form, just to see what it was like, and found that he didn't mind eating small forest creatures nearly as much as he thought he would. He found that, for some reason, if he wore clothes when he shifted, they would 'disappear' and then reappear when he shifted back. He usually only wore pants when he shifted just for formalities sake – if he didn't, with his luck, someone might come across him in the woods and call the police about the naked man walking around. And while he didn't have to shift on the full moon, he found that he did have an increase of speed, stamina, strength, and so on.
He had continued to hunt and found that, due to his being half wolf, he had more strength and healed quickly. He could also sense things like ghosts and other wolves. All in all, he was still a capable hunter and planned to stay that way for a long time. He was currently tracking another werewolf; this one wasn't like him, it wanted to hurt people.
He slipped through the trees silently, his bare feet padding over the grass and leaf mold that littered the forest floor. His ears pricked as he heard a scream and he ran towards it, shifting as he went. He jumped off of an overhang into a clearing, landing easily at the bottom. He saw what might have been a make-shift campsite and the wolf he had been tracking standing over a shivering little girl. A furious growl escaped Dean's throat. The wolf looked at him, seemed to grin, and then disappeared into the night. Dean's first instinct was to chase after the wolf, but he instead went to the little girl. She lay on the ground, her onyx colored hair forming a sort of halo around her, albeit one laced with leaves and mud. She was whimpering slightly and had many small lacerations on her arms and legs. That wasn't what worried him though. What worried him was the bite mark on the back of her hand. He gently licked some of the more painful looking wounds to ease her pain. She opened her eyes and looked at him fearfully, but was soon convinced that he was good by the look in his eyes. He shifted back right in front of her.
"What?" she stammered. "Who?"
"Shhh," he shushed he softly. "It's okay. I'll explain everything later. We have to get you out of here." She nodded her agreement with that.
"Where's your family?" he asked.
"They died when I was little," she told him sadly. "I was living with my aunt, but she was terrible. I ran away a few weeks ago."
"How old are you?"
"Ten."
"Don't worry," he promised. "I'll keep you safe." A nagging thought in the back of his head warned him that he might have to kill her if she was a danger to humans, but he pushed that thought away for the time being. Not for the first time, he wondered about his little brother, and he was immediately struck by a strong sense of homesickness. He picked up the little girl in his arms and she laid her head against his chest. He wouldn't kill her, not unless it was absolutely necessary.
Five years later
Dean grinned as he ran through the trees. He took a couple more strides before he jumped up, grabbing a branch and swinging himself into the tree. Beside him, the young girl with long black hair pulled herself into another tree. He leaned back against the trunk and stretched his legs out.
"Hey!" the girl called out. "This is no time to take a nap!"
"It's always a good time to take a nap," he shot back.
"Think again, big brother." She laughed at him. "Those three hunters have almost caught up to us and that wolf is lurking around up ahead."
"Shit." He opened his eyes to find a pair of violet orbs only inches away from his face.
"Up!" she commanded. They jumped down from the tree.
"Anyone ever tell you that you're really bossy?" he growled playfully.
"A time or two," she shrugged. "Split up?"
"Just like we planned." He nodded. "You go west, I'll keep heading north. We meet at the rendezvous a few miles up ahead." She nodded her agreement and ran off, shifting into a lithe white she-wolf with bold, black streaks cutting through her fur. He grinned as she vanished into the shadows of the night.
"Good luck, little sister."
And then he shifted, slipping easily into his wolf skin. He took off to the north, his orientation never having failed him yet, and hoped that the hunters followed him. He knew their blind spots and knew how to get away; Raven didn't know them like he did. He led them along for a couple of miles, stopping every now and then to make sure they were still following him. Everything was going fine until the other wolf showed up. Some werewolves were bad people anyway, and sometimes they could shift a few days early, even if they weren't conscious when they shifted like he and Raven were. The large gray wolf stepped out in front of Dean and growled for a fight just as the three hunters came up behind him.
Shit.
The gray wolf bared its teeth and snarled at him, not caring much about the hunters behind Dean. Dean had been through this before. He glared and growled a warning, squaring his shoulders. The other wolf was slightly larger than Dean, but Dean was what Raven called an "alpha". Any other wolf that they had come across – be it natural or supernatural – usually backed down from a fight with Dean before or quickly after instigating a fight. This wolf seemed to think differently though, and Dean had no problem with taking him down.
"Bobby –" one hunter started. He was tall with broad shoulders and a hardened but shocked expression.
"No, John, I've never seen anything like it," the oldest hunter responded. The youngest hunter stayed silent, choosing to watch the wolves rather than his companions.
The gray wolf charged at the gold and white wolf. The lighter wolf jumped over the gray wolf at the last minute, landing on his back and biting down on his neck. The lighter wolf jumped off and then lunged at the gray wolf's throat. The darker wolf tried to shake him off, but couldn't. The wolves tumbled on the ground, a mess of fur and teeth and claws, before they broke apart. The lighter colored wolf stayed firmly between the hunters and the other wolf. The smaller wolf again darted towards the gray wolf, scoring a wound along the gray wolf's shoulder. The gray wolf jumped at the lighter wolf and held him down, going for his throat. The lighter wolf managed to twist a certain way and slipped out from under him just before he lost his throat. The gray wolf managed to bite the gold and white wolf's back leg. The lighter wolf again planted himself between the hunters and the gray beast. He stood still, blood flowing freely from his stomach, a gift from when the other wolf was holding him down, and his hind leg. He then rushed forward, catching the darker wolf by surprise and bit down hard on his opponent's unguarded esophagus. The gray wolf panicked and tried to pull away, effectively tearing his throat even more. The light colored wolf stepped back and relinquished this adversary's body from his hold. Scarlet blood stained the snow white fur and mud darkened the golden splashes.
They watched, barely breathing, as the wolf limped to a nearby stream and plunged himself into it. The animal wallowed in the water until almost all of the blood and mud had been washed away. As he stepped back onto dry land and shook himself off, the youngest hunter marveled at how he wasn't afraid of this creature. The young man felt only amazement at how remarkable the beast appeared to be. Piercing green eyes connected with the boy's curious hazel eyes. He was shocked to find sadness and regret shining in the wolf's gaze. He was also surprised to find that the eyes were familiar. Before anyone could move, another wolf burst into the clearing.
The latecomer was a beautiful black and white she-wolf with almost unnatural lavender colored eyes. She looked back and forth between the men and the wolf before letting out a short bark. The male wolf blinked once more at the boy before he and the she-wolf fled into the shadows of the forest.
Sam didn't move as they disappeared, and didn't comment as his father and Bobby tried to figure out why the wolf had acted so differently.
Later that night, Sam dreamed of Dean. He dreamed that his brother was trapped someplace. It wasn't unusual for Sam to have Dean in his dream, but they were usually happy. Here, Dean seemed scared and was calling out for Sam and he was crying. Dean never cried. Sam wanted to go and help him, but he couldn't get past this unseen barrier. Their dad had always thought that Dean was dead because there were no signs that he'd gone anywhere except for the missing duffle bag. Besides, how could a thirteen year old have survived in the cruel world that he had known existed? Sam wished that his brother hadn't run away, but figured that Dean must have had a good reason for it, because his brother never would have left Sam unless he had to.
Dean's eyes locked with Sam's and his image kept shifting back and forth between how Dean looked when he was thirteen and how Sam imagined he would look now. Dean's emerald eyes met Sam's and it was all Sam could do not to burst into tears at the pain he saw there. Sam kept trying to reach out to Dean but Dean kept pulling back, like he was scared of Sam.
"Dean! Give me your hand!" Sam called to him.
"I can't!" Dean shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "Don't you see what I am?"
"You're my brother, that's what you are!" Sam said forcefully. Dean just shook his head and curled himself into a ball.
"Dean!" Sam called again. "Dean, I need you to come home!"
"I can't," Dean whimpered.
"Please, Dean!" Sam begged, tears sliding down his own cheeks.
"Sammy?" Dean whispered, looking up at Sam.
"I'm here, Dean. Please, come home!" Sam put his hand against the invisible wall between them. Dean crawled over and put his hand up against the same spot where Sam's hand was pressed. Dean could feel warmth emanating through the barrier. Dean instantly felt some of the pain he was experiencing decrease. He felt the hopelessness vanish and he felt a pull towards Sam.
"I'm coming," he said, smiling at his Sammy.
Dean woke up sweating and feeling phantom pains. In his dream he had experience his first shift over again, except he hadn't shifted, he'd only felt the pain of it. Sam had been there, he had begged him to come home. Raven came into his room, flicking on the light as she did. They had found this old abandoned house and had decided to stay there. Luckily, it had running water and electricity and didn't look like it had been abandoned too long ago.
"You okay?" she asked. He nodded.
"You dreaming of your family again?" she asked, coming over and sitting beside him.
"Yeah." His voice was hoarse, like he'd been yelling.
"I heard you calling out for Sam." That explains his voice anyway.
"It was just a dream." He didn't know if he was trying to convince Raven or himself.
"Was that them today?" He didn't answer aloud. He just nodded.
"Maybe it's time," she said, pushing his damp hair off of his forehead.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Maybe it's time for you to go home," she clarified. "Did you ever think that maybe they won't shoot you on the spot? That maybe they'll be okay with it because you don't hurt people?"
"Raven…"
"You could just spy on them for a while. See how they act now that you've been gone a while."
"Raven…"
"Dean, you have a family," she growled, standing up. "You have a chance to get them back. Some of us don't have that luxury, so you better take that damn chance that they might want you back." She whirled around and stalked out of the room, leaving Dean stunned at her sudden outburst.
Yeah, maybe he could go check on them. Just to make sure they weren't getting into any trouble.
A few days had passed since he'd had that dream, but Sam couldn't get his brother's voice out of his head. He had sat on the porch of Bobby's house all day, every day since that dream with Dean's voice echoing through his brain.
"I'm coming."
He had promised, and Dean never broke a promise when Sam was concerned. So he had been waiting, and he would continue to wait until Dean came back. He was currently playing ball with Rumsfeld while he waited. Bobby had given him a weird look, but accepted it. Dad, on the other hand, told him he was wasting his time. He said that if Dean could have come home, he would have by now. Sam hadn't given up hoping that his brother would come back, especially after his dream, even though he knew that it was just a dream and that Dean himself hadn't made the promise; it was just Sam's mind projecting what he wanted most in the world. Sam threw the ball and it landed in a spot just beyond Rumsfeld's reach, so Sam went to go get it. When he got to the hole in the fence that the ball had rolled through, he bent down to see where the ball was.
He came face to face with a pair of green eyes. Sam held in his yelp of surprise when he recognized the gold and white wolf from the woods. Suddenly, those familiar green eyes became even more familiar.
"Dean?" Sam whispered. The wolf gave a small whimper.
"It's you!" Sam grinned. "You came!" The wolf blinked at his happiness. How did Sam know he was coming? The wolf jumped up and ran back into the small patch of trees nearby. Sam grabbed the ball and walked back to the house, his mind going a mile a minute.
Dean was alive.
Dean was a werewolf.
Dean was alive.
Dean was scared to come home.
Dean was alive.
Sam smiled to himself. Dean had said he would come home, and he had, although Sam didn't understand how since it was just a dream version of Dean that had promised. Dean would learn to not be scared anymore. He would learn to trust his family again.
Then Sam started wondering. Why wasn't Dean a bloodthirsty killer? Why did he protect them from the other wolf if he had already shifted? Did he have control over himself? How had he shifted before the full moon? How had the other wolf shifted before the full moon? Why had he looked so surprised when Sam said that he knew Dean would come?
Sam's head started to hurt so he shook it to clear it a bit.
Dean wrapped his arms around himself as he leaned back against the large tree's trunk. He tried to control his breathing. Sammy. His Sammy. His Sammy recognized him. His Sammy was happy to see him. He felt the need to run back to that fence and talk to his little brother. He wanted to go hug him and apologize for leaving. He wanted to hold his baby brother close and find out all about how he'd been for the past five years. He wanted to see his father; he wanted to tell him that he was alive and it wasn't his fault Dean was so messed up. He wanted to see Bobby; he wanted to work on some old cars with him again, just like they always used to.
He realized that he was crying and, for once, he didn't try to stop. He let himself cry. He let out a sob and held himself tighter. He cried for his family; he cried for the life he lost; he cried for what he was; he cried for his Sammy; but most of all, he cried for himself. He barely registered two arms wrapping around him, and, instead of pulling away, he leaned into the comfort and breathed in the familiar scent of earth and vanilla. He subconsciously registered someone making soothing sounds and rubbing his back, but didn't acknowledge it. In that moment, he let out all the pain and fear and loneliness he'd felt all this time away from the people he loved.
He stayed nearby for almost a month. He kept an eye on them all, watching from a distance. He followed them on hunts and made sure that they didn't get too banged up. He might have stepped in once or twice, but they didn't see him so it was all good. Raven came with him to keep them safe, which he appreciated. Unfortunately, his luck never did stay good for long.
It was a wendigo. It was about to attack Sam and, of course, he couldn't let that happen. He had already shifted, so he charged at it. He lunged out from his hiding spot in the trees. He jumped on the wendigo's back and bit its shoulder. It flung him off, but he took a chunk out of its shoulder, causing it to roar with rage. It threw itself at him, leaving his father and brother alone. Dean growled and bared his teeth. He and the wendigo did a sort of dance, both lashing out and pulling back quickly. Dean eventually managed to get purchase on its throat and ripped a jagged hole in the beast's neck. It dropped to the ground and Sam surprised Dean by shooting the flair gun at that moment. Dean looked to his side at the ragged wound left by the creature's claws. It was bleeding harshly and Dean could feel unconsciousness calling. His vision had started to go black and it sounded like he was underwater. He saw Sam walking towards him, saw that he was saying something, but he couldn't hear anything before the ground came rushing towards him.
Dean woke up in a wooden shed. It wasn't exactly the most comfortable of places. The door opened and Dean made a low moaning noise as the bright light hit his eyes. The door was quickly closed, which he was thankful for. The change of the scent in the air made him look up again. He saw Sam standing and looking at him oddly. He made a growling/barking noise because he couldn't snap at Sam like he wanted to. That was when he noticed the collar around his neck. His gaze followed the chair attached to it and found himself chained to a wall of the shed. If the scent of the wind and grease and rust were anything to go by, he was at Bobby's.
"It's just a precaution. Dad and Bobby agreed it was best," Sam informed him. "I didn't tell them that it was you. They just think you're an odd duck…err wolf." Sam shrugged at him before sitting down. "
You had that dream too, didn't you?" Sam asked. He watched as the large wolf nodded, standing up and moving to sit beside Sam.
"So it's really you?"
Dean made a little whining noise and laid his head down on Sam's knee. Sam smiled – he'd always wanted a dog – and stroked Dean's soft golden and white fur, scratching behind his ears and under his chin. Dean's tail swept the floor and his hind leg thumped with contentment. His eyes were closed and Sam stifled his laugh at his brother's reaction.
"I have a lot of questions for you, you know," Sam told him. The wolf let out a sigh. Sam stopped petting him and moved to look at the wound under the large white bandage. Dean watched him carefully remove the tape and gauze. Sam was amazed to find that the wound had disappeared. His brain taking it in, he looked at Dean.
"Accelerated healing?" Dean seemed to grin and his tail wagged again. He let out a little bark to affirm Sam's guess.
"Yeah, I've got a lot of questions." He moved back and started stroking Dean again, much to the wolf's enjoyment.
The insistent knock was the only thing that made Bobby get up and leave his breakfast. It wasn't the fact that Sam was probably out with the werewolf. It wasn't the fact that John was harping him about finding out why the wolf didn't act like all the others. It wasn't his own brain demanding answers about why the wolf decided to save two hunters after previously saving them and him on an earlier hunt. It most certainly wasn't the fact that he needed something to keep all of his questions at bay.
So he went to answer the door.
He expected a hunter, maybe; possibly someone who wanted to buy some parts; maybe a cop needing to tell him about a car they were bringing in from a traffic accident. What he didn't expect was a teenage girl with hair as black as night wearing a pair of torn jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Her sort of familiar, unnatural violet eyes peered behind him, like she was looking for someone else. She turned a sparkling grin on him.
"Hey, I think you have my dog," she said brightly.
"What?" Bobby asked, surprised.
"Yeah, you know; white and gold, green eyes, about yay big." She indicated his height with a hand. "He looks kinda like a wolf. Ringing any bells?" she asked.
"He's not a dog," Bobby told her.
"Well duh, seriously?" she gave him a pointed look. "And you're not just a salvage yard owner."
"What do you know." It was a demand more than a question.
"I know that you loved him. You loved both boys, but you had a special bond with him that you never had with Sam. You never thought you'd get along with kids, but that tough little boy broke his way through your walls. I know that when you gave up looking for him, and convinced yourself that he had to be dead, you broke down and sobbed for the first time in a long time. I know a lot of things," she said, almost gently. Bobby staggered back a step. She gave him a small, sad smile.
"How –"
"It doesn't matter how."
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Smith. My dog is Wesson."
"Smith and Wesson?"
"Take it or leave it."
"What's your real name?"
"Raven." He opened his mouth to talk again, but he was interrupted by her.
"I need to talk to my 'dog'." Without waiting for him to agree, she slipped in the house and then out the back door. He followed her and John jumped up at the unfamiliar girl whirling by him. She went out to the shed in the backyard and threw the door open, effectively shocking both occupants. She took in the sight of the wolf lying with his head on Sam's lap, letting himself be stroked.
"So, you thought domestication would be fun, huh?" she asked the dog. "Anyone ever tell you that you're a pain in the butt?" The wolf scowled at her, but she just laughed. She then bent low and scratched his ears.
"We gotta talk, dude." Sam stood up and moved away, allowing them space. She nodded at him before shifting right in front of them. Standing where she had just been was a black and white wolf with violet eyes, identical to the she-wolf from before. The two looked at each other, trading barks, growls, whines, sighs, and snorts. Raven seemed to do more growling, but Sam figured she had just been worried about him. After a few minutes, she stood and shifted back. She glared down at him.
"Well? Come on!" she growled at him. The wolf just blinked at her.
"We had a deal, dude."
He huffed at her. The three hunters watched as he stretched out, his sturdy muscles rippling as he stood up from his position. He looked at the chain and then at Bobby. Bobby stepped forward and unlocked the collar, releasing him from the chain. He gave Bobby a nod and shook himself out. They watched as the fur receded into his skin and his body elongated as he moved to two feet instead of four. He was about six feet tall, plus an inch or two, with golden hair and bright green eyes. He was muscular, wearing only a pair of jeans which were slung low on his hips.
"Yeah, yeah," he drawled. His gaze landed on Sam. Sam froze. It all fit. Those familiar green eyes, the perpetually spiked up hair, the bowlegs, the cocky grin, and that look that said he was worried but trying not to show it.
"Dean," Sam breathed his name, causing both his father and his uncle to look from him to the young man before them. The older boy gave Sam a hesitant grin.
"Hey, Sammy." Those two words made Sam want to cry. He had found his brother. Before Sam could comprehend what he was doing, he had crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Dean's broad chest. He felt Dean stiffen at the sudden contact. He was about to pull back when he felt two strong arms wrap around him, holding him tightly. Dean held him close and Sam felt tears come to his eyes. Dean smelled like earth and wind and was radiating a warmth that Sam remembered clinging to on cold winter nights. Sam pulled back and looked up at his big brother.
"You came home," Sam said.
"Yeah, I guess I did." Sam let go of him, but, before either could say another word, Dean was wrapped in a bear hug. Dean froze as John clutched his eldest son tightly. He relaxed against his dad and leaned into the security he was being offered. When he let Dean go, John placed one hand on his son's shoulder and the other on the back of Dean's neck.
"Do you have any idea how long we stayed at that motel, waiting for you to come back?" John asked.
"Three months," Dean said. The eighteen-year-old hung his head. "I went back and saw you leaving."
"Why didn't you come home?" John asked, trying to understand why his eldest had never returned.
"You know, other hunters won't accept me. I didn't want to be a burden. I thought you'd be better off without me," Dean said sadly.
"Dean, you're the reason we stayed together all these years. I knew you'd never forgive me if I lost myself to the bottle like I did when Mary died. I cut back on hunts because I couldn't bear to lose another son. I knew that you would always keep Sam safe and take care of me when I came home after a hunt, but after you disappeared, we both picked up the slack and I realized just what we'd lost. Dean, you could never be a burden to us," John explained.
"I – I didn't –" Dean stuttered. "I didn't think you'd –"
"You didn't think we'd want you back like this," Sam finished. Dean's silence answered for him.
"Dean, you're family. That does count for something."
"I told you so, stupid," Raven laughed. "I told you that they were gonna want you back."
"You should probably listen to her more," Sam said, grinning.
"And you should try living on the road with a chick," Dean growled playfully. "It sucks."
"I guess we'll just have to get used to it," John sighed.
"Wait, does that mean –" Raven covered her mouth with her hands.
"Welcome to the family, Raven." John smiled at her.
"Seriously?"
"Far as I'm concerned, you're already a Winchester. You took care of my boy for all this time. You brought my son home. You've earned a right to be a part of this family." She laughed and hugged Dean, then Sam, and, finally, John. John laughed and didn't have the heart to push her away. Dean laughed and Sam grinned because his brother's laugh hadn't changed in all the years he'd been gone. Sam felt an arm drape over his shoulders as he was pulled into a one armed hug. Bobby went to stand beside Dean.
"It's good to have you back, boy," he said.
"It's good to be back, Bobby."
Dean wondered why he ever thought that they wouldn't want him back.
Six months later
"Dean! Come on!" Sam called. Dean, standing on top of the ravine, looked down at Sam and grinned. Dean jumped and dove through the air, shifting as he did so. He skidded to a stop by Sam's feet, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. He shook himself, his golden and white fur creating a halo around him.
"You're ridiculous," Sam said. Dean barked in agreement.
"Come on boys," John said. "We better get going." Dean jumped up ahead of his father and started sniffing the air for any trace of the wendigo they were hunting, all business now. He caught the scent and his ears flattened to his head as he snarled in the direction it had gone. He ran forward and moved to be in a position to attack it from behind as John and Sam moved to lure it out of the cave it was hiding in. The plan worked and Dean waited until it made a swipe at Sam, missing him by a wide stretch, before he emerged as a furious blur of teeth and claws. The wendigo was shocked to find itself being attacked by an irate ball of gold and white fur. Dean wrapped his jaws around the monster's throat and it was down within a minute. He jumped back as it swayed and fell, majorly injured, and he snarled at it as Sam fired the flair gun at it.
"Nice," Sam remarked at Dean, who was covered in quite a bit of blood. Dean smirked –even as a dog you could tell that's what it was – and went to find a nearby creek or river to wash the foul smelling blood away. He came back a few minutes later, minus the coat of fur. He was still damp from his little bath and the monster was almost done burning up. They were soon driving back to the motel.
"That has got to be one of the quickest hunts I've ever been on," John commented as they pulled into the parking lot. He didn't get any response, so he looked over in the truck at his boys. He discovered that they were leaning against each other, fast asleep.
"I told you boys not to stay up too late last night," he chuckled to himself. He'd let them sleep until they had to go inside. He grinned as he thought of the surprise he had for Raven. Bobby had helped him get it and they were heading up to see him after they left this place. Dean had mentioned to him when her birthday was and he had wanted to do something special for her. He parked the truck beside the Impala, which he had given to Dean for all his missed birthdays (he had also gotten Dean's driver's license through slightly illegal means, but that was all technical because he could drive just fine without having to pass an official test and had been driving since he was about twelve).
"Boys, time to wake up." John gently stirred his sons. Dean blinked himself awake, but Sam was dead to the world. Dean stretched his arms out and made a little noise in the back of his throat as he yawned. John stifled his laugh and hid his grin at how his son had picked up little quirks from his 'wolf self'.
"Come on, we'll grab our stuff and hit the road to Bobby's house." Dean nodded his agreement and slipped out of the truck without waking Sam. The two eldest Winchesters walked to the room. Raven was lying on the bed farthest from the door. She was wearing one of Dean's old t-shirts and a pair of running shorts. She had her long ebony hair pulled back into a ponytail and was curled up, sleeping peacefully. Dean snickered and plopped down on the bed beside her. She snapped awake immediately. She looked at him like he had just cut all of her hair off. He started laughing and wasn't prepared for her jumping on him like a spider monkey jacked up on mountain dew. Before long, she had him on the ground and begging for mercy.
"I. Swear. To. God. If you ever do that again, I'll skin you alive," she growled. John was suddenly really glad Dean had removed the knife from under her pillow.
"Raven," John warned, but the smile on his face let her know he wasn't really angry. She jumped up, brushing dirt off of her slender legs.
"He should know better," the now-sixteen-year-old huffed. She stalked into the bathroom with a change of clothes.
"Well, that was fun," Dean snarked. John grabbed his and Sam's stuff while Dean grabbed his. They put their stuff in the cars as Raven came out with her stuff. She shoved it into the trunk of the Impala and redid her ponytail.
"Hey, Raven, come here," Dean called from the passenger side door.
"Sup?" she asked, clearly having forgiven him after her revenge. She looked back and forth between John and Dean.
"We have something for you," John said.
"Guys –"
"It's from all of us and you can't return it," Dean told her.
"Guys –"
"No," Dean said. "Don't argue with me." He pulled an envelope from behind his back.
"Happy birthday, little sister." Dean grinned at her. She took the envelope and opened it. She pulled out the top paper and read it. John and Dean watched as her eyes filled with tears. She looked up at them as the tears spilled over and slid down her face.
"You – you – I –" Dean stepped forward and hugged her tightly.
"Yeah, we did." She hugged him back and let the tears slid down her face. John smiled and his eyes landed on the paper in her hand; the one that clearly stated her name as being Raven Winchester. She let go of Dean and hugged John, more thankful than words could ever hope to say. She put the papers in her bag and they all climbed into their respectful vehicles. As they drove to Bobby's, Dean looked at her. He saw her sitting with her eyes closed facing the rising sun as Led Zeppelin poured from Baby's speakers. He smiled and looked back to the road. They weren't perfect, but they all had each other. They didn't have a lot, but they had enough.
And that was enough for him.
Fin
I have Raven in another story, which I'll hopefully finish typing soon, and she's pretty much the same even though all the circumstances are different. I may or may not do a sequel for this depending on what y'all want.
Review, it makes my day!