"Revolver"

"Chapter Four: One Fell Swoop"

John sat on the edge of Silver Lake in Valparaiso, Indiana. His bare feet waded into the warm lake, the water rushing around his toes. Leaning back, he propped himself up on his elbows. Glancing to his right, he noticed Mary was gently kicking the water and struggling to hold a two year old Dean still in her arms.

"It doesn't seem real," he commented as he drew his attention back to the lake.

"It never does feel real," replied Mary with her mouth in a straight line.

Sitting up, John reached out his arms for Dean. Immediately the toddler scrambled to him and snuggled into his arms. John held him close, his chin resting on his blonde locks. The last time he was in Valparaiso, he had just come back from Vietnam and was gearing up to move to Lawrence, Kansas. He could never find it in him to return to the town where he grew up.

"I wish I could have talked to her before she died," he whispered. "I just want to tell her how much I love her and appreciate everything she did for me."

"John, she's your mom… she already knew."

"Is it wrong that I don't want to see my dad?" he questioned as he glanced towards his wife.

Mary glanced back at him, a soft smile gracing her freckly features. It was summertime and Mary had been busy working in her garden for the past two months. Her skin failed to tan. Instead, she burned and her freckles seemed to darken immensely. John loved her dark freckles in the summertime because during the rest of the year they were faint and hidden in her pale skin.

"You and your dad don't exactly get along."

"He was a drunk who forced my mom to work two jobs just to support our family. All day, all he did was drink and watch old War World II documentaries and lament about how he got fucked up in the war."

"John," she hissed and motioned towards Dean who did not seemed phased by the cuss word.

Sighing, he smiled sheepishly at Mary who merely shook her head. Even after two years of her chastising him for his language in front of Dean, he couldn't quite manage to remember to bit his tongue. He already knew his son was going to have a potty mouth when he was older. It was an inescapable Winchester trait.

"I know we don't have a lot of money because the garage isn't the most successful business in the world, but I would never ever do to you what my dad did to my mom."

Mary reached out and gently touched his shoulder. A wide smile crossed her face, one that showed all her pearly whites and made her freckles scrunch together on her nose. Leaning forward, she kissed him on the cheek.

"You're too hard on yourself, John," she spoke in her sweet molasses voice. "We have enough money for a modest life. Richness doesn't come in the form of currency. It comes in the form of love. We have that."

"Money makes things easier though. I bust my ass daily, and I feel like I'm getting nowhere. I feel like I'm letting you and Dean down."

"You don't let us down, but you work yourself into the ground at the garage."

"I want to give Dean and our future kids more than I had growing up. I feel like I'm failing at that. Maybe I should sell my share of the garage and try to find a new job."

"No! That's your dream job. You've always wanted to own a garage and now you finally do." Mary scooted closer and rested her hand on his chest. "I know we fight a lot about money, but I would never want you to give up your dream. We'll make it work. We always do."

John glanced over at his wife, a soft smile dancing on his features. Leaning towards her, he gave her a peck on her ruby lips. Letting out a sigh, he closed his eyes and leaned back his head. That's when he heard it, a constant beeping that filed into his ears. His brow furrowed, unable to discern what sort of beeping could be occurring by the lake.

Slowly opening his eyes, all he saw was white. Valparaiso and Silver Lake were gone. Dean was no longer in his arms. Glancing to his right, he made out a fuzzy image of a tall blonde in what looked like nurse scrubs.

"A nurse?" he said hoarsely with a smile playing on his lips. "Kinky."

"I wish I could say that's the first time that's ever been said to me but sadly you're as unoriginal as the rest of them," an unfamiliar voice playfully teased.

Blinking a few times, he suddenly realized that his head was splitting. His lip felt torn and chapped. His hand hurt like a motherfucker. A dull ache ripped through his side. Suddenly, the room came into focus. The blonde he saw before him was not his wife. The lake was replaced with a hospital room. Suddenly, the events of what happened all became clear. His chest tightened as the dream slipped through his fingers like smoke.

"Sorry," he replied as he cleared his throat to try to get rid of the hoarseness. "You reminded me of my wife with the blonde hair."

"Your wife? What's her number? I'll call her for you."

"You can't… she's dead."

The nurse handed him a glass of water. He took it with a grateful smile and chugged it down. Water had never tasted better in his whole life.

"There's some cops who want to talk to you when you're ready."

John stared up at the nurse, grateful not to hear any apologies that his wife was dead or to get any pity. He welcomed the change in topic even if it brought bad news.

"What exactly happened?"

"You were in a car accident. You wrapped it around a lamppost. Made so much noise that the neighbors came running out their houses. You sure know how to make a first impression."

John groaned. He remembered passing out behind the wheel, vaguely remembered feeling the impact of the crash before fainting completely.

"Is there, uh, anyone else I can call for you?"

"M'boys… they're staying with a friend. Can you call him?"

"Of course, so you have sons?" she asked as she pulled out a pen from her pocket and looked around for a piece of paper to write on.

"Yeah, two of 'em."

A piece of paper was in her pant pocket. She looked at the front and back to ensure it wasn't important before clicking her pen.

"What's the number?"

John listed off the digits as the nurse jotted them down. Once done, she plopped the pen back in her pocket and held the sheet of paper in-between her fingers.

"What's your name, by the way?"

"John," he said as he struggled to sit up, a piercing pain filling his whole side. "What's yours?"

"Kate."

"It's nice to meet you, Kate."

She folded the corner of the paper in her hands, her eyes lingering on his face for a few seconds. John couldn't help but think she looked like Mary. She was leggy and blonde with faint freckles dancing underneath her blush.

"Uh, can you tell me my injuries? I sort of feel like shit right now."

"I'm not a doctor."

"Then prepare me for what the doctor will tell me."

Kate looked behind her, as though seeing if any doctors or hospital personnel were close by. When she was satisfied that nobody would be listening, she turned around with a slight smile gracing her features.

"Well, your hand suffered a stress fracture. Your side was punctured with something, which pierced through your kidney. This caused some internal bleeding to occur. You were rushed into the ER where they were able to repair the kidney and stitched up your side. You lost a lot of blood too, so you had to have a transfusion." Kate tucked a piece of golden hair behind her ear. "I'm guessing these aren't all car accident injuries."

"I was mugged," the lie slipped off John's tongue with ease. "Luckily, the thug left me my car keys. Or… I guess unluckily considering I crashed my car."

"He stabbed you?" she asked as she nodded to his side.

"I'm thinking he was strung out on drugs, because he shoved a shard of glass in my side," replied John with a frown etched on his features.

"I'm going to go call your kids. I'll send in the cops too so you can get that over with before the boys get here."

"Thanks."

The next hour was a blur. Two cops and a doctor came into his room to listen to his account of being mugged and then fleeing to his car. Luckily, John never carried identification on his during a hunt for this very reason. It was easier to lie about being mugged than it was to describe how he killed a monster to explain the blood and injuries. With the lack of wallet and the injuries, both parties seemed satisfied with his tale. The cops were even going to bring a sketch artist in the next day to make a composite of the mugger.

Once the cops left, Kate wandered back into the room and stood by the doctor while he explained the extent of his injuries and how he wanted to keep him overnight for observation due to all the injuries. John did not protest but merely nodded in a noncommittal way. The doctor ordered Kate to change the bandages on his side before leaving.

"How long am I gonna be stuck here?"

Kate walked around the bed and motioned for John to shrug off the upper half of his hospital gown. He did so without hesitation. Her fingers skirted across his skin and carefully pulled off the bandage.

"At least a day," she replied. "The injuries to your side were extensive."

"Well, a shard of glass will do that to a guy," he replied with a shit-eating grin.

"That's a positive way to look at it."

John let out a chuckle as she finished wrapping a new bandage. When she was done, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Everything seemed so messed up lately. Everything dealing with those hunters, Caleb's aversion to hunting, Dean's quietness… it all seemed to be piling up in a gigantic mound that seemed never ending.

"Daddy!"

John looked beyond Kate to see his youngest bounding into the room with tears hanging off his eyelashes. Scrabbling onto the hospital bed, he plopped down onto his father's chest with his tiny arms gripping either side. John winced, trying not to make a noise because Sammy was holding onto him for dear life. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around the tiny child and glanced over at the doorway to see his eldest son walking slowly into the room. His children were his talismans. They kept him grounded, kept him sane, kept him feeling as though there was still love in the world.

"Pastor Jim sa-said that you and the 'Pala got in an accident," Sammy murmured into the folds of his father's hospital gown.

"I'm okay, Sammy," he murmured into the child's messy locks.

"What about the 'Pala?"

The child raised his head off his father's chest and looked up at him with wide, chocolate orbs. Moving his hands until they were cupping the child's cheeks, he smiled up at his youngest. With his thumbs, he wiped away the stray tears that had escaped his eyelashes.

"Nothing that I can't fix."

"'Cause, you're a car doctor," Sammy said matter-of-factly and then looked up at the nurse. "My daddy's a car doctor."

"Oh, is he now?" Kate replied with a playful smile gracing her lips.

"It's a mechanic, not a car doctor, dummy," Dean explained as he stood beside the bed.

"Dean, don't," whispered John.

Dropping his hands from Sammy's face, he snaked one around Sammy's waist and pulled him to his chest. With his free hand, he reached out and grasped Dean's hand with his own. John could tell Sammy was pouting without even looking at him, because Dean was giving his little brother a lopsided apology smile. The two didn't need words to communicate. Their language was a series of smirks, winks, laughs, gestures, and looks. It was a language that nobody fully understood but the two of them.

"Hey, let me know if you need anything," Kate interrupted, the smile still etched onto her features.

"Bye!" Sammy chimed loudly.

"Goodbye. Take good care of your dad."

John smiled his thanks and watched her walk passed the pastor out the door. Jim stepped into the room, standing behind Dean and resting his hands gently on his shoulders.

"I need a clean up crew," John whispered.

"I'll get a few hunters out there ASAP," the pastor replied. "First, what happened?"

"The fucker jumped me."

"No wonder Dean and Sammy have mouths like sailors," replied the pastor with a frown. "All these years, you've been blaming Caleb."

"He's hardly a good influence, Jim."

Usually, a comment like that would have caused Dean to speak up and agree in some snarky way. At that moment, however, he was oddly quiet. His gaze was plastered on his father's face as though he were waiting for something to happen. Squeezing the kid's hand, he tried to snap Dean out of whatever he was thinking but failed to reach him.

"Well, look at who his hunting mentor was," Jim said with a sigh. "Bobby has the worst mouth out of all of you."

"You're the one who paired them up, not me," retorted John. "Hey, speaking of Caleb, I don't want him on the clean up crew."

"I wasn't going to call on him anyways. The last thing he needs to get back in the saddle is a clean up job," the pastor replied dryly as his hands left Dean's shoulders. "I'm going to go call some friends. You should rest."

Rest was not really a viable option. His mind was reeling at everything that had happened – the hunters following him, the smart-mouthed ghoul, the car accident. It had all been too much. Looking down to his left, he noted Sammy's small frame snuggled into his side. He was already fast asleep, his hand gently grasping the folds of his father's hospital gown. Glancing up slightly, he watched as Dean sank down into the nearest chair. The kid looked broken, a shell of himself. It was as though all the years of breaking him out of his melancholy after his mother's death had gone to waste.

There was a scream from outside the hospital room. Dean snapped around, craning his neck to see the commotion. John glanced briefly at the door, not really interested in knowing another family's hardships. He had enough adversities to last for two lifetimes.

"PLEASE! Save my son! He didn't mean it! He- he… it was an accident!" a hysteric woman cried.

"Dean," John whispered, reaching out the hand that was tucked underneath Sammy's slight frame towards his eldest.

His large, green eyes rose to meet his father's gaze. A frown was etched into his brow. Slowly, he grasped his father's hand into his own. Forcing a reassuring smile onto his face, John tried to pull the kid back into reality and ignore the heartbreak that was no doubt happening outside.

"Want to talk about what happened?"

"No," replied Dean.

"I got hurt during the hunt… I passed out and crashed the car. It's nothing we can't fix."

Dean tugged his hand away and quickly wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. Sinking down into the chair, he pulled his legs to his chest and rested his chin on his knee. A god-awful cry vibrated throughout the hospital and John did his best to cast it aside. Instead, he focused all of his attention onto Dean.

"Something always seems to be happening," commented Dean in a tone that sounded unnatural coming from a ten year old as he quickly casted his eyes behind him. "It's only been a week into the new year and we're already in a hospital. It seems like we live in hospitals. I'm sick of hearing people cry when their loved ones die and wondering when…"

He didn't need to finish the sentence for John to know exactly what he was thinking. When would it be John's turn to die? It was only a matter of time with all the time they spent in hospitals. John couldn't help but consider himself lucky. Part of him liked to think Mary was watching over their little family. If angels existed, surely Mary would be one.

"I'm a hunter… it's a dangerous gig. We always bounce back though. All of us. The Winchesters are made of tougher stuff than we're given credit for."

"I just want a year where we don't have to visit a hospital."

John licked his busted lip and wished more than anything he could promise his son that they would never darken a hospital's doors again. He felt at a loss, like the worst father in the world. He wanted to give his sons the world, the moon, the stars… but he couldn't even keep them out of a hospital. He tried his best to provide them the best life he could, but it was never good enough. Dean was always so strained and riddled with grief. Sammy was always defiant and living in ignorant bliss of the situations around him like any normal six year old.

A chill ran up John's spine. It sent shockwaves through his whole body, causing him to shiver involuntarily. The motion caused Sammy to groan and bury himself even further into his father's side. It had left him breathless and disorientated. Glancing up to look at Dean, he saw only a blurry outline of his son. Blinking several times, the images became one again. A vice grip felt like it was tightening around his heart. Suddenly, for reasons he couldn't explain, a wave of sadness washed over him. He felt as though the sun would never shine again, like he was surrounded in darkness, like there was only despair and misery in the world. It was a feeling he had only experienced once before in his life and wanted it to go away more than he could even comprehend. Staring at Dean's freckly features, he willed the feelings to go away.

Author's Notes – I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! I posted it sooner because of the long update between chapters two and three. My treat to you. Now, the real story can begin. :) Please, leave a review!