One Hundred Days

Disclaimer: see chapter one

S—D

Chapter Seven:

Present Day

Singer Salvage Yard

South Dakota

John sat on the edge of the small cot inside Bobby's panic room; he agreed to sleep in the basement as far as possible from the boys as a condition of his staying the night.

He stared at his bruised knuckles in dismay knowing that he did that by hurting Sam, his baby boy. He could barely remember the attack, it was so fast, so violent and shrouded in a red haze. The anger, or rather the rage terrified him, he had never felt like that before when it came to his sons especially. Even when he fought with Sam that night and kicked him out, the rage was not there then. Only deep-seated anger and fear fuelled by pig-headed stubbornness.

This time, this time it was different, why couldn't he remember receiving the messages from Sam and from Bobby? The messages he remembered and the ones they said they had left were completely different.

Dejectedly he pulled out his cell and scrolled through his inbox; a sick feeling stirred in the pit of his stomach as he read the text messages first and then listened to the voicemails. The first one from Sam caused tears once again to fall down John's craggy face. 'Dad, they found Dean ... someone had kidnapped him ... they, they tortured him an', and hunted him in this old building. God dad they shot him in the head with dum-dum bullets. He's so sick. I need you dad, I am so scared.'

'How did I not hear that?' John mused an uneasy feeling ran down his spine, all he had heard was rejection towards him from his youngest son. 'I don't need you dad,' he read and listened to the others and then finally Bobby's message the one he was supposed to have answered. 'John you freaking eedjit, your boys need you more than the hunt ever has. Dean's in hospital with … damn it John he's got brain damage some maniac kidnapped him and shot him with dum-dums. Sam is ready to lose it big time, he needs his father to take over and be a parent. Your sons need you, so git yer butt into gear and call me.'

Tossing his cell phone on his bed, John went to find his old friend, he had more questions than answers and it was totally freaking him out when he tripped on the strap of his duffle spilling the contents out onto the floor. Cursing, he started to pick up everything when a small black object caught his sole attention. dazed he picked it up and then picked up an identical object off his bed where he had just tossed it.

'Bobby?' He called out softly; he didn't want to startle his friend as he read from large tomes in his study.

'Come in John, beers are in the fridge.' Bobby said without looking up.

John collected the beers and pulled up a chair close to Bobby's desk, after sipping from his he looked up and stared at his old friend, 'I know I aint got no right to ask anything of ya Bobby.'

'But ask anyway.'

'Do you still have my reply to your message on your cell?' John asked and then sipped his beer while Bobby got over his shock at the strange question.

They sat in companionable silence while they listened to John's message, Bobby's gaze never once leaving John's face. 'What is it John?'

'That's not me.' John finally said, 'I didn't leave that message.'

'John it's you ...'

'No Bobby, I ahh I listened to all of my voicemails just before and read the text, all of them from both you and Sam. I don't remember getting any of them and then ...' John tossed the two identical cell phones at his friend. 'There's two phones Bobby, one that got all of the messages and the other one I had in my duffle. It might have one or two but they are completely different to the ones left on the other phone.'

'Two phones?'

'Someone has ... Bobby I think I've been whammied big time.'

S—D

The man paced his office repeatedly running his hand over his bald head. They hadn't killed the kid, how he survived was anyone's guess but the idiots let him live.

'Are you questioning my orders Beau?' A gritty voice broke through his intense thoughts and made him come to a stop and stare at the interloper.

'What are you doing here demon?' Beau growled, he was sure that he had finally paid his dues. 'The game is over.'

'Far from it human.' The demon snarled as it disappeared and re-appeared directly in front of the bald man. 'The game is over when I wish it.'

'What is going on now? I did what you wanted and tortured that Winchester kid.' Beau tried to move away but found himself unable to move. 'What the fuck did you do to me?'

'Now, now I just wanted a captivated audience, and now I have.' The demon laughed, his breath stinking with the stench of sulphur made Beau wince. 'There is another job I have for you.'

'What? Now don't get me wrong I did enjoy putting that cocky little punk through his paces but enough is enough I got more to do with my life than to torture poor saps who have upset you.'

'Perhaps I should tell you a nice little tale, you see that kid I handed to you to play with he has no idea on who I am or why I orchestrated the little game.' The demon sat down and crossed its legs elegantly flicking imaginary dust from the perfectly creased trouser leg. 'This goes back before the Winchester spawn were created, before John and Mary Winchester decided to marry and procreate.'

'What the fuck are you talking about?' Not a small man and not one to take orders from anyone, at the age of forty-nine Beau Richmond, lived the life he wanted and hated to have anything disturb that life. With two ex-wives, six children and two grandchildren he considered himself a lucky man, with his million dollar empire and side job of torturing the odd poor sucker who crossed him or anyone he holds dear. All thanks to a particular demon twenty years ago, when he lay on his death bed after being at the wrong end of a sawn-off shotgun at point blank range.

The deal brokered and suddenly he had a miraculous recovery and a thriving albeit illegal business; when it came for the first deal to come due he forged a new stronger deal with the demon. One that has proven profitable for both human and demon.

'I want to know what you want before I agree to anything, negotiations are coming up remember that.' Beau added as he glared at the demon inhabited human meat-suit. 'Before I forget who was the poor sap this time?'

'A lawyer whose deal was past due.' The demon shrugged a wicked smile forming on the stolen face, 'this is still to do with the Winchesters especially as they are the only living relatives of Deana and Samuel Campbell.'

S—D

John looked up and stared not at Bobby Singer's face but the face of his eldest son Dean. 'Where's Bobby Dean?' He asked frowning, he had just been talking to Bobby a second ago.

'Sammy needs uncle Bobby.' Dean said as he pulled out his gun and aimed it at his father.

Paling John went to stand up and try to explain what happened as he watched the gun levelled at him. 'Dean? Son what's going on?'

'You hurts my Sammy.' Dean said his voice thick and filled with emotions, 'no one hurts my Sammy.'

'Dean, please I'm your dad.'

'No, no my daddy won't hurts my Sammy.' Dean snapped as he raised his free hand to his head, rubbing at the pain spiking through his mind. 'My Sammy hurts bad, coz you hurts him.'

'Dean son please put the gun down and we'll work things out.' John's gaze darted to the door and he momentarily wondered where Sam and Bobby are.

'You make Sammy bleed and not wakey ... you not my daddy.' Dean's lower lip started to tremble as his ever-present emotions started to flood, 'Uncle Bobby had ta fix him, now Sammy won't wakey.'

'Dean, Deanie can I go and see Sammy with you?' John asked holding his hands up in an attempt to placate his son. 'I – I wasn't myself Dean you have to believe me ... I wouldn't hurt Sammy like that.'

'You says bad word to Sammy.'

'Deanie, please ...'

'you hurts Sammy, you hurts Deanie, Deanie mad wif you.'

'I know son and I can understand why but for now can I see Sammy? Please Dean it's important.'

Dean stood and stared at his father for a few more minutes before nodding his head and stepped away slightly but kept the gun aimed at John, 'okkies but you don't hurts Sammy.'

'I promise I won't and if I do then you can shoot me son, deal?'

'Deal.' Dean said as he lifted the gun slightly higher and followed his father back upstairs.

They found Bobby sitting by a still unconscious Sam, the hunter looked up and stared in shock at the sight of John on the end of Dean's gun. 'Something you want to share with the rest of the class?'

'Daddy hurts Sammy ...' Dean said as though it explained everything.

'Bobby I ... Dean said that Sam hasn't woken yet.' John spoke quietly and remained as still as he could.

'He promised not to hurts him now or I could shoot him.' Dean continued without hearing his father.

'You said that?' Bobby smirked at John who nodded and reddened slightly before he cast a glance down at his youngest son.

'Oh my God Bobby ... Dean I ...' John felt his own tears start to fall when he saw the damage he caused.

'You tells Sammy not me or uncle Bobby.' Dean thrust the gun at his father and then indicated Sam, 'you tells Sammy.'

Hesitantly John moved closer to the couch and sat down on the spot Bobby had just vacated, 'Sammy oh Gods son, what have I done to you?' He whispered softly and ran his fingers through Sam's long fringe.

'Dean how about you and me go and get some coffee going?' Bobby placed a hand on the gun and gently pressed on it as Dean lowered his hand, 'we'll be right there.'

'Okkies uncle Bobby but I can still shoot daddy if I hafta can't I?' Dean pouted as he followed Bobby into the kitchen.

'You sure can, you can use my rifle if ya like it's full of buckshot and hurts like hell.' Bobby winked at Dean.

'Sam please son, wake up.' John perched next to his youngest and stared down at the pale features marred with bruises of different hues of blue and purple. 'How could I do that to you?' John mused aloud, memories flooded his thoughts; he could see the six month old baby lying in his crib when he took Dean to bed, he could see the flames encroaching the crib and hear his baby's cries. He saw himself place that tiny, precious bundle into the arms of a four year old barely big enough to hold the baby himself. He saw Sammy take his first step towards Dean, heard his first word 'De'n', and heard his first giggle at something Dean had said to him. He could feel the anger rise again unbidden and had to force it back down until he almost choked.

'D-dad?' Sam blinked groggily up at his father, the glassiness shone dimly in the light when it hit his eyes. 'Where? Argh.'

'I'll turn the lights down.' John said turning the overhead light off and left the two lamps on casting it in a softer light on everything and everyone.

'Thanks ... Dean?'

'In the kitchen with Bobby.' John ran his fingers through his hair and tried to meet Sam's gaze, 'I – I'm sorry Sammy.'

'Dad ... why?' Sam tried to stay calm and keep his breathing under control, as he stared at the man who had just beaten the crap out of him, 'why did you?'

'I – I don't know, I don't understand myself it ... I was just so angry and ... honestly I was angry with you but I have no idea why.'

'Christo.' Sam whispered not expecting any response other than the look of amusement on his father's face, 'had to try.'

'Yeah I know, but it's like someone is feeding these exaggerated memories to me and pushing my own anger and guilt towards ... I never really got the messages you sent Sam, I got some but they had been changed ... the real ones sent to a cell phone identical to mine.'

'I dunno dad, why didn't you call at all?' Sam tried to push himself up a little on the couch but couldn't stifle the groan and wince before his father caught it.

'Sammy ... Sam please let me help you.' John went to help when he saw the involuntary jerk from Sam. 'Ah hell Sammy I ...'

'Sorry dad it's just.' Sam couldn't help it, something in him made him feel like a small boy terrified of upsetting his father again.

'Sam please you have to understand I would never intentionally...'

'Yeah I know dad.' Sam winced and then clutched his side, something didn't feel right. 'Dad?'

'Sammy what is it?' John placed a hand on his son's forehead and grimaced at the heat emanating from it, 'son talk to me.'

'Hurts dad ... argh ... my side.' Sam tried to curl onto his side to try and alleviate the pain, when he started to cough violently a spatter of blood and white foam covered his dried lips as he fought to catch his breath.

'Bobby need you in here.' John called, he kept his hands on Sam's shoulders and tried to keep him steady, and carefully he slid in behind Sam and braced him against his own chest.

'Sammy?' Dean's cry echoed through the air as he ran into the living room, 'what's ... my Sammy?'

'Sammy's not feeling too good Deanie,' John looked up at Bobby his eyes shining with fresh tears and worry, 'he's coughing up blood.'

'Ah geeze, okay Dean I need you to go and open the back door of the impala for me and then scoot in.' Bobby turned to look at the distraught younger man.

'Why?' Dean whimpered, his entire body shaking with fear. 'Uncle Bobby?'

'Yer daddy and me are gonna carry Sammy out but we need you in the car so when we put him in the backseat he can rest against yer chest, ya understanding me boy?'

'Yes Sir.' Dean nodded and without another word sprinted outside to the impala.

Within minutes they had Sam bundled up and braced against Dean's chest with John holding him steady from the passenger seat in the front, twisted around his long arm easily held Sam upright.

Bobby drove as fast as he dared into town and easily skidded to a stop in front of the hospital, 'wait here.' He ordered when he jumped out and ran inside only to return, followed by an orderly pushing a gurney and a harried looking young physician.

Ten minutes later, Bobby and John sat in the waiting room trying to comfort an openly distraught Dean, who couldn't understand why his Sammy was gone away and they wouldn't let him go with him.

'I want my Sammy.' The plaintive cry filled the silent waiting room, 'where my Sammy?'

'Dean ... you have to be strong for Sammy, the doctors are gonna make him better but you just have to be strong for him.' Bobby said grabbing Dean's hand he made the younger man look up at him, 'remember that the doctor said as soon as he can he'll let you see Sammy.'

'I misses Sammy uncle Bobby.' Dean wailed sliding down the wall he sat on the floor and pulled his knees up to his chest, a soft mewling came from the trembling bundle, 'Deanie wants his Sammy.'

'Ah I know son I know.' Bobby squeezed Dean's shoulder and glanced up at the stoic John Winchester who sat a few seats away staring out the window, 'John you doin' alright?'

'I did this Bobby, I did this.' John muttered without shifting his gaze.

'He was already injured John, if anything ya probably burst his stitches.' Bobby tried to placate him, as well as the rest of his injuries, the thought ran through his mind but not wanting to upset Dean anymore he held back from saying anything. He just knew that the whole mess stunk to high heaven.

'Family of Sam Winchester?' A tired doctor with a black clipboard stared around the room and letting it rest on the only people in the waiting area.

'I'm his father,' John said as he stood and stepped closer to the medic when Dean sprang up and ran in front of his father.

'Where's my Sammy? Where is he?' Dean demanded glaring at the doctor.

'Calm down Dean.' John tried to grab hold of his son's arm but Dean pulled away from him, 'no, no don't want you ... want my Sammy.'

'Ah we had to take Sam to surgery and repair a knife wound that had reopened, he had a small tear in his lower intestine and had a small section of his spleen removed.' The doctor let his gaze trail from one man to the other, 'he's in recovery and will be transferred to the surgical ward within the hour.'

'Where Sammy?' Dean demanded angrily stamping his foot, 'I want my Sammy now.'

'Ah sorry but Sam is still in recovery ...'

'don't care ... Deanie wants Sammy now.' Dean pouted, crossing his arms he glared at the doctor.

'Dean calm down, you don't want Sammy to see you so upset do ya?' Bobby spoke softly and calmly as he wrapped his arm around Dean's shoulders, 'come on Sammy doesn't want to see you all upset.'

'Okkies uncle Bobby.' Dean sniffed and rubbed his runny nose with the back of his hand, 'Deanie 'leepy.'

'How about you curl up on that couch and have a nap?' Bobby said and pulled Dean over to the couch, 'when ya wake up ya'll be able to see Sammy.'

'Okkies uncle Bobby ... I twy.' Dean yawned and gave his uncle a hug before curling up on the couch, and slowly drifted off with his thumb slipped into his mouth.

'Is he alright?' the doctor asked sniffing disdainfully.

'Yeah he's good.' Bobby replied gruffly, 'just needs his brother.'

John stared down at his eldest son for a few minutes, and then unable to sit and do nothing any longer he glanced at Bobby before hurrying from the room. His heart broken with the sight of his soldier, his perfect son, so broken and imperfect.

S—D

Dean ran into the room and came to a sudden stop when he saw his Sammy lying so still in the hospital bed, 'Sammy?' he whispered tearfully, 'Sammy okkies?'

'Deanie?' Sam's whisper was all that his older brother needed and Dean launched himself at the bed, carefully he climbed up onto the bed and curled himself around Sam's good side, making sure that he didn't touch any tubes or wires. He laid his head on Sam's chest and sighed happily when he heard the thumpy thump of his brother's heartbeat.

'Hey Deanie, you okay dude?' Sam whispered, his voice still hoarse and scratchy from the tubes and anaesthetic.

'Me okkies, what bout my Sammy?'

'Gonna be better'n ever.' Sam brushed a kiss on the top of Dean's head and then looked up at Bobby. 'Where's dad?'

'He had to go out for a while,' Bobby lied not wanting to upset the brothers, 'he said he'll be back in a little while.'

S—D

Beau stared down at the unconscious man lying in his games area, 'so this is the almighty John Winchester? Wonder if he'll last as long as his kid did?'

TBC