Title: Darkened Hearts

Beta: Thanks to Stony.Angel for the Beta 3

John jerked awake sometime before dawn, echoes of Dean's whimper filling his mind. His body had already moved on its own, switching the lamp that rested beside them on and leaning over Dean before his mind could even register the fact that Dean was still sleeping, hands wrapped tightly around a pillow. It took him a few more moments of staring at his oldest boy to realize that Dean hadn't let out any sounds much less a whimper, that it was his dream. More like a memory than a dream. Looking down at Dean's sleeping form the events of that fateful day came back to him, invading his mind.

Mark hadn't been expecting him to visit; hell, he hadn't even thought to stop by until he realized how close to Kansas he was. He had called the previous week to say he'd be in to see the boys the following month. So no one was expecting him to be knocking on the door at nine just like he hadn't expected to find the door half open.

He had been to more than a few back road towns where people left their doors unlocked out of some misplaced sense of security. Lawrence wasn't some place with one measly general store and twenty churches though. So, when he came up to the open door and all the lights off in the living room behind it his first thought was of robbers.

He was expecting to see some doped up kid trying to carry out the T.V.; he was expecting hushed voices as they tried to find jewelry and cash; he was expecting his family to be out of the house.

He definitely wasn't expecting what he saw that night.

John's face screwed up into anger at the images that ran through his mind, a soft growl escaping from between his chapped lips. A moment later his eyes softened as he watched Sammy curl in closer around Dean who hadn't moved an inch since John laid him down in the motel's bed.

These were his boys.

His fingers moved to brush the damp hair off of Dean's check, noting that the swelling had thankfully gone down. The bruising however did its job in making the father's stomach clench tightly. The dim light that shone from the lamp made the two boys look younger than they were, too dull to show the changes that came with age. Right at that moment, he could clearly see the two young boys that had been hurt by their mother's death. Even Sammy, who didn't resemble the baby he had been, was easily put back into the last memory John had with Mary before the fire; he could see himself with Dean in his arms while his wife put Sammy into his crib for the night.

His eyes darted around the room out of habit, looking for any thing he might have brought into the room even though he knew that he left everything in his car, too intent on getting a good look at Dean once they were safe, once his boys were safeat the time . There was nothing for him to pack so that left him to trying to wake the two and get them to his car. He was surprised that the three of them had actually slept with their shoes on but that worked for him right now, no chance of losing one of their socks before he had a chance to get them some clothes.

He picked up Sammy first, forcing to keep his laughter to a quiet chuckle as the young boy kept a death hold around the pillow John had forced his head on; he couldn't let Sammy sleep on top of Dean with that kind of bruising. Getting the door to the room open and then the car door was a bit tricky with Sammy's body pressed tightly up against his chest and a rather large pillow making him almost not fit in his arms. He felt the same in his arms as he did when he was a baby though, perfectly melding into the nooks and cranny's of his arms and easily finding the perfect position to make the whiskers on John's neck tickle.

He felt the same as always, innocent and needing.

John was ashamed at the state of his car, the backseat was littered with his own bags full of clothes and papers while trash littered the floor and seats, ranging from old newspapers to cheap coffee cups. He'd clean it out in another city, later. Right now he wanted to keep the two as close to him as possibly. Close enough so that no one else could ever hurt them, close enough so that Mark couldn't touch either of them.

---

Joanna leaned against the doorframe, one hand resting against it as well and the other on Sammy's shoulder as she grinned down at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes when she whispered softly, "Dean doesn't like to wake up in the mornings anymore; I'd wake him last but we need him to help wake up Uncle Mark."

She watched as the shaggy haired little boy caught onto her meaning, grinning widely despite the tiredness she could see behind his soft eyes. She couldn't help but laugh at the way Dean jerked awake the instant Sammy landed on him, tangling the both of them in the sheets.

Hands wrapped around her waist causing a small squeak to escape from her, "You're suppose to be resting." Mark whispered, kissing the side of her face gently as he watched the two boys struggle on the bed.

She chuckled softly, leaning back into him, finding it more comfortable than leaning against the door frame in her weakened state, "You're still supposed to be asleep so Sammy and I can surprise you."

"Oh?" Dean asked as he looked up, a wide grin on his face as he held Sammy's head under his arms.

"Yes Mr. Lazy Bones, Sammy cooked breakfast for everyone."

"Yeah," Sammy agreed, slipping out from Dean's hold, tickling him slightly, "Auntie Jo's supposed to be resting and I woke up to make her breakfast but she was already awake so she just supervised me. She made sure it would taste good."

Mark grinned widely at Sam before he loosened his hold on Joanna and rushed over to the two boys, laughing as he got a hold of Dean who was still basically trapped under his sheets. He had the small boy bending over in laughter as he tried to escape the fingers that were tickling him.

Moments later Joanna had gone over to Sammy and soon the two of them were ready to jump Mark and save Dean.

---

"What were you thinking, Dean?" Mark demanded, throwing the can of spray paint the officer had handed him when he had brought Dean back to the house into the trashcan, his hand gripping the edge of the countertop.

His eyes glanced over at Joanna for a moment, taking in her already tired form, but he couldn't catch her eyes, they were locked on Dean, a small frown filling her pretty features. His eyes fell on Dean once again as he shrugged, looking down at his hands that were tinted blue.

"No, Dean, that's not an answer. Why did you do this?" Mark repeated, reaching out to grip Dean's chin lightly, forcing the young boy to look up at him. "Why did the police have to bring you home?"

"I dunno," Dean answered quietly, his eyes darting downwards despite Mark's attempt to get him to look at him.

Dean wasn't the type of kid to back away from anything. Since he was little he was always one to own up to what he had done and why even if it was a bad excuse and that was why Mark didn't understand why he was acting ashamed now. "Dean, we want an answer," Joanna spoke up from beside him, "You know exactly why you were vandalizing the building."

"Yes you do," Mark said with a sigh, shaking his head before moving to the backdoor, "You're going to mow the yard, weed your Aunt's garden… and any other yard work I can find for you; also, you're only going to leave this house to go to school and that's it.Maybe then you can remember why you decided to do such a stupid thing."

Mark was actually surprised when Dean got up without an argument or even without his patented rolling eyes. The adults watched him walk out the door, head still hung low, and go to the shed where all the equipment was held. "He's a good boy," Mark said softly, keeping his eyes locked on Dean's small form.

"Do you think it's…" Joanna started to say, her voice soft and sad and Mark could see her clearly in his head, as if he had turned to look at her, her head bent down, staring at her own hands just as Dean had.

"Could be," Mark spoke softly, "But John and I, we were hell on wheels at his age. I can't tell you how many times our mother had to chase after us with a paddle."

Joanna laughed softly, shaking her head at him, "The both of you are still trouble; I can't take my eyes off of you for a moment."

The grin that fell on his face was wide and big, feigning innocence. "Maybe we'll all get lucky and Sammy will come out as a good, nerdy kid who doesn't get any until he's thirty."

"You wouldn't wish that!" Joanna gasped, laughter filtering through the air.

The just sat there in the kitchen, watching as Dean worked and little Sammy trailed after him, trying to help him even though Dean was glaring at him and telling him to go inside. The both of them could see that he had accepted his punishment and wasn't willing to let Sam do it for him, if only to spare himself more trouble.

---

John's eyes fell back onto his two sons; Dean leaning against the window, his bruised face resting on the pillow he had taken from the hotel. Sammy was leaning up against Dean, thin arms wrapped around both Dean and the other pillow. He was glad he had paid cash for that room because he wasn't sure if any of the cards he held could deal with the outrageous price they put on their pillows.

Neither of the boys had really woke up when their father moved them to the car; he had expected Dean to wake up in shock when he had picked up the teenager but for someone who claimed to be a light sleeper, the boy just wrapped his arms around John, not even opening his eyes once. To be honest, John had been hoping he would wake up because carrying the teenager to the car was no easy task. He didn't complain though, just pushed down the worry that bubbled in his stomach and went to snatch the other pillow.

He knew that he should try to wake Dean, knew that it would at least kill the worry that had found a permanent space in his stomach but he felt selfish; he couldn't deal with Dean being awake, not so soon. Not right now. There wasn't a thing he knew about this situation; he'd never been trained to deal with abused children and he didn't know where to start.

He needed all the time to figure out how exactly to move ahead from this, how to help both Dean and Sammy deal with this without causing them anymore harm than both him and Mark had dealt onto the two young souls.

So, he drove and drove without a destination in mind while trying to remember if he had over heard any conversations dealing with this type of thing or who he could call, who would be able to offer the correct advice.

And between each thought was the question of if he could ever salvage the relationship with his sons. If they'd ever be able to trust him again because this, what they went through, was as much as his fault as it was Mark's.

TBC

A/N: Thank you all for your great reviews; I'm glad you liked this.

Kay

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