"Revolver"

"Chapter Seven: Port in the Storm"

January 25

It only takes a second to change everything. A split second can be the difference between life and death. A miniscule movement could be made in a mere second and save a life. That's exactly what happened when John Winchester had the cold barrel of a revolver grazing against his temple. He was ready to pull the trigger, his finger practically itching in anticipation. Except, exactly when he pulled the trigger back, Dean had yanked his father's arm. The round impacted with the ceiling causing some of the popcorn to rain upon their heads. The sound, it vibrated awfully throughout the tiny bedroom.

Dean stood next to his father, eyes wider than what was humanly possible. He was shaking like a leaf, his legs barely holding him up straight. His breathing was ragged, his face so deathly pale that he barely looked alive. John sat very still, his gaze resting on Dean's tear-stained cheeks.

"I'm sorry," John croaked. "I can't do it anymore."

"Dad…" he whispered, the words choked on tears.

Suddenly, Jim was in the bedroom and taking in the scene before him. He snapped at Dean, yelling at him to get out of the room. Dean stood his ground mostly because he couldn't move his legs even if he wanted to. The pastor was next to him in a few strands, his hands prying the revolver out of John's grasp.

"Dean, go."

He took a step back, his eyes never leaving his father's pale face. Jim slid the revolver between the small of his back and the waste band of his jeans. Standing up, he crossed his arms over his chest and glanced over at the younger Winchester.

"Send Caleb in," the pastor said in a gentler tone.

In a dazed fog, Dean exited the bedroom. He felt like he was in a dream, his legs moving automatically. They led him to the living room to see Sammy curled up in a ball on Caleb's lap. He was shaking, his sobs muffled by the fabric of the hunter's Metallica t-shirt. The hunter's arms were securely around the child's small frame, a pistol clenched in his hand and resting against Sammy's back. Caleb leaned down and whispered something into the child's ear. Immediately, Sammy struggled to untangle himself from the cuddle and darted towards his big brother at lightning speed. When he reached him, he wrapped his little arms around his brother's waist in a death grip.

"Caleb," Dean said as the hunter got up and started to walk towards the bedroom. "What's going on?"

"Tell ya in a few, runt."

Caleb tried not to look at Dean or Sammy. He feared if he did, he wouldn't be able to leave them alone. He needed to. He had to go find out what the fuck had just happened in the bedroom. He assumed that John was the one who pulled the trigger since there wasn't even sounds of struggle or yells for help. Ever since he arrived in Minnesota, he noticed John acting odd. Then again, he thought after what they did in Pennsylvania, he was just dealing with things in his own way. Except, the gun firing, Dean looking like he was scared shitless… there was something more wrong than he ever anticipated.

Entering the bedroom, he noticed John on the bed with his head buried in his hands. He was shaking and barely audible whimpers resonated in the room. The pastor was sitting in a desk chair across from John, his arms crossed over his chest and head cocked to the side as though he was trying to figure out what was going on. Closing the door quietly behind him with a snap, Caleb joined the two hunters.

"What's going on?" he questioned.

"John tried to kill himself," the pastor replied in an even tone.

"What? Why?" Caleb reeled onto John, crouching down in front of him so he could pry his hands away from his face. "What the fuck, Johnny?"

"I can't… I can't do it anymore," he gasped through the tears spilling down his cheeks.

For the first time since he arrived at the ranch, he noticed John looked pale with dark circles akin to bruises underneath his eyes. The whites of his eyes had a pink tint to it. His lips were so void of color that they blended perfectly into his skin. It was enough to shock Caleb up into a standing position and step away from the older hunter – the man who had been like a big brother to him ever since they met.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" breathed Caleb as he whipped around to look at the pastor. "I thought he was hunting a fuckin' ghoul! They don't do this…"

"I don't think the ghoul did this," the pastor replied gently. "I don't know what's wrong with him."

"Nothing is wrong with me!" shouted John. "I just don't want to go on with life! What's the point? Every single year it's something different! First, Mary died! Then, Sammy has to have an operation on his throat! Then, Dean gets shot and nearly dies! It never fucking ends! They'd be better off without me!"

"Caleb, will you go to the kitchen and call Bobby? He's better at diagnosing supernatural illnesses better than I am," the pastor kept his voice void of emotion as he just stared at John.

"I'm not sick," snapped John.

Caleb backed out of the bedroom, glad to be out of the situation. He had never seen anything like it. Sure, John seemed more depressed lately, more snappy, more disconnected. He never would have guessed he was suicidal or was suffering from some weirdo, supernatural disease. If Caleb was being honest with himself, he didn't think whatever was wrong with John was supernatural.

"Caleb!"

The taller blonde turned around to see the eleven-year-old running towards him. His eyes were wide in fear and his lips twisted in determination. The twenty-five year old suppressed a groan. The young hunter had one weakness: the Winchester children. They could wheel and deal anything out of him. Except, the last thing he wanted to do was spill the details of John's condition to his sons. Especially since what information he had was shaky and not really reliable.

"Caleb, what's wrong with my dad?"

The kid looked much older than eleven in that moment. There were lines on his face that no child should have so young. Dean Winchester not only cared for his little brother, he also cared for his father. To see him in such a state, it was nearly unbearable.

"He's sick."

"Why aren't you taking him to a doctor?"

"Because, dude, he's not go to a doctor sick. He's the kind of sick Bulldog Bobby needs to take care of."

Dean looked behind him to see Sammy huddled in the corner of the couch. His chin rested on his drawn knees and his large, chocolate eyes stared at his brother and Caleb talking in hushed tones.

"I thought Dad was hunting a ghoul," commented Dean. "Ghouls don't make people…"

He trailed off, swallowing a lump in his throat. The images flashed across his mind in rapid succession. It had seemed too surreal to even comprehend. His dad was a lot of things, but depressed and suicidal was not one of them.

"He was and ghouls don't make you sick. I'm going to call Bulldog and get him over here. If anyone can figure out what's wrong, he can."

"Caleb…" Dean lowered his voice and sounded more his age, "I think my dad tried to kill himself."

The sadness in Dean's voice stopped Caleb dead in his tracks. He could not confirm that bit of information but he couldn't deny it either. He was stuck and forced into silence. He could not be the person who helped the kid break completely. He was barely hanging on by a thread.

"I don't know what's wrong with your dad," Caleb answered honestly. "Whatever it is, we'll fix him."

With that, Caleb made his way to the kitchen to call Bobby. If anyone could make John Winchester a kickass, no-nonsense hunter again… it was Bobby Singer. He could fix any supernatural problem with his hands tied behind his back.

"Hey, Bobby, it's Caleb. You need to be at Jim's right away. There's something wrong with Johnmy…"

January 26

Dean laid on his back, his gaze fixated on the popcorn ceiling above him. Sammy was tucked away in his right side, his nose poking his upper side annoyingly. His kid brother's dark hair tickled his chin, but he couldn't complain. It had been a day since they had last saw their dad. Sammy was scared and just wanted their small family all together in the living room so they could watch television.

"Tell me a story," the child asked.

The last thing he wanted to do in that moment was to tell a story. His mind was going a mile a minute, wondering what was wrong with their dad and if he was going to be okay. Except, he didn't have the heart to say no.

"So, there were these two Fraggles," started Dean, "named John and Jude."

"That's our middle names!" Sammy said with a little enthusiasm.

"Hmm, what a coincidence."

"What's a co-ins-dence?"

Dean let a small chuckle escape his lips. For a few seconds, the terrifying thoughts of their father dying or never being the same left his mind. He felt relaxed for the first time in days. It was a feat only Sammy could manage. He was the only one who could drag him out of his gloom, melancholy moods.

"It's when two things happen at the same time by chance."

"I don't think it's a co-ins-dence that the Fraggles are named after us," resolved Sammy in a very serious tone.

"Yeah, I think you're probably right."

Meanwhile, down the hallway, John sat with his legs crossed on his bed with his back leaned against the wall. The dark circles under his eyes were as black as kohl, engulfing his sunken features. It seemed like he was quickly worsening in only a matter of days.

Caleb sat across from him in the desk chair. His feet were propped up on the bed and nearly knocking against John's knees. His arms were crossed over his chest. He sported his own dark circles, except his were from lack of sleep.

"Do you ever wonder if it's worth it?" croaked John.

"Is what worth it?"

"Hunting. Look at the life I gave Dean and Sammy. It's awful. I'm an awful father."

Caleb jerked his feet off the bed and planted them on the ground. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. He wasn't much for pep talks or talking about feelings. That's why him and John always got along so well. Neither cared about their past, what drove them into hunting, how hard hunting was, how shitty life was. No, they talked about sports and their fucking awesome beheading of a vampire. They talked about how much of a pain Sammy could be with his fifty million questions, how Dean had grown up too quickly so they needed to try to make him do kid stuff. They never talked about themselves.

"You're a good father, Johnny. Fuck, if I could, I would gladly replace my old man with you."

"I'm never home. I'm obsessed with hunting. I don't give them a good life. I get all of Dean's clothes from the Salvation Army, and Sammy's clothes are Dean's hand-me-downs."

"Nice clothes and fancy kicks aren't what makes a good parent. You love those boys to the fucking moon and back. You would do anything to put a smile on their smug little faces and would step in front of a runaway train to protect them. That makes a good parent… not material goods. As for hunting... fuck, Johnny, it's a job. You save lives and do good instead of being stuck in a cubicle for twelve hours. You're home as much as you can be. When you're not, you always drop them off at Jim's or Bobby's or my place. Most of the time, they're with people who care about them and will take care of them. If they're alone, then someone is always on their fucking way to keep them in line." Caleb licked his lips as he looked up at his friend. "We all love those little bastards. We would do anything to protect them. The thing they want most in life, the thing they can't live without, is you, man. Dean would go berserk without you. You'd destroy him."

John didn't say anything. He just stared at the younger hunter as though he had five heads and was spewing out bullshit. His silence was probably a good thing because Jim and Bobby entered the bedroom not long after.

Bobby asked an exhausting amount of questions. For once, John didn't roll his eyes or get annoyed with Bobby. That was a clue that something really was seriously wrong. The two always fought, always bickered like some old married couple that couldn't stand to even look at each other anymore.

"Did anything unusual happen in the hospital?" Bobby asked for the hundredth time in his endless interrogation. "Even the stupidest thing."

Caleb was about ready to grab the revolver that John used to try to kill himself to put a bullet through his own temple. Bobby had been questioning him about the events of the past few weeks for over an hour.

"I don't know!" John yelled.

"When did the depression start?" pushed Bobby.

"Shit, Bobby, I don't know. Right when I was admitted into the hospital it fucking started, alright?"

"Bobby, what are you thinking?" Jim interrupted.

"I'm thinking we're dealing with a suicidal spirit."

"What the hell?" interjected Caleb. "Wouldn't a suicidal spirit just go off to the mother-ship or become a ghost?"

Bobby glanced at the younger hunter and shut up, you idjit was clearly written across his features. Caleb leaned back in his chair and shut his mouth. Bobby was one of the few people he actually listened to.

"Sometimes, when a spirit dies in high distress, it can latch onto another kindred soul," explained Bobby.

"Johnny has a soul akin to a suicidal person?" questioned Caleb with a smile dancing on his lips. "He's the least suicidal person I know."

"I want you two to investigate anyone who died in high distress within the first few days John was admitted," commanded Jim. "If you think it's someone who died via suicide, look at those deaths first."

"Considering John's mental state and suicide attempt, I'd say the person we are looking for someone who did commit suicide," agreed Bobby. "Come on, kid."

With that, Caleb and Bobby exited the bedroom with their mission fresh in their minds.

"Caleb!" Dean shot up from his spot on the couch when he saw Caleb and Bobby exit the forbidden bedroom where their father was stashed away.

"What?" he asked, faltering in his march to the front door.

Dean licked his lips, his eyes glancing frantically at his little brother who was curled up under a blanket on the couch. His tear-stained face peered at them, his eyes wide as saucers. Despite his best efforts to keep Sammy in the dark of what he saw their father try to do, the kid had a knack of knowing when something was amiss. The lack of information he would get always worked him up in a tizzy. Dean could never calm the kid down, because he couldn't tell him the truth. He hated lying to his kid brother, so he said nothing.

"What's going on?" he asked in a low voice.

"Bobby and I are going on a hunt," he replied with a shit-eating grin. "Johnny's making us go."

"What's wrong with my dad?" he pushed.

Caleb stole a gaze with Bobby, which immediately told Dean that they were under strict orders not to tell him anything. Except, he had to wonder if that was his dad's or Pastor Jim's orders. His dad seemed sick, very sick if he put a gun to his temple. Every time he closed his eyes, that was all Dean saw – his father with the muzzle of a gun resting on his forehead. It made his knees go weak.

"He's not feelin' well," replied Bobby.

"But the hunt, it's to get my dad better, right?"

"You're too damn nosy for your own good," Caleb announced. "You're eleven. Go watch Sesame Street."

Dean cocked his head to the side and sneered. If there was anything that made Dean upset, it was treating him like a baby. He was eleven years old. He helped his dad practically raise Sammy. Most importantly, his dad trusted him – not just with Sammy but with the truth of what was really out there.

"Caleb, can I talk to you alone?"

All of the adults could be stone cold serious and tight lipped whenever something big happened. Caleb, however, was the easiest target to break. At only twenty-five, he was by far the youngest hunter in their circle. It was no lie that he thought of John as the big brother he lost and viewed Dean and Sammy as the nephews he would never be able to have.

Bobby gave a stern look to both Caleb and Dean that conveyed there should be no funny business. He disappeared out the front door without another word. Caleb racked a hand through his unusually long blonde hair.

"I promise not to tell Pastor Jim or Bobby or Dad that you told me. Please, Caleb, I need to know what's wrong with my dad," pleaded Dean.

"It's a ghost, okay?" Caleb hissed under his breath. "A fucking suicidal ghost latched onto him in the hospital and is making him go crazy."

Dean nodded, his face trying so hard to be void of any emotion. He bit his bottom lip – a characteristic that was purely Sam's. A lump formed in his throat. He struggled to find words but felt as though they were trapped.

"So… you're gonna go salt and burn the bones and he'll be fine, right?" Dean struggled to get the words off his tongue.

Suddenly, the eleven-year old realized that fear was gripping onto every bone of his body. His dad was a hero, an unbreakable hunter who saved lives and killed the monsters. For the first time, John Winchester was damaged and breakable. It was a foreign feeling that made fear slither into every inch of Dean's body and ice over.

"That's Bulldog's theory," Caleb replied, using his fond nickname for Bobby to lighten the mood. "We're going to go do some recon at the hospital, see if we can find out who was admitted during the time Johnny was there. Maybe find somebody who died there that would personify the symptoms that your dad is displaying."

"Then, you're going to go salt and burn?"

"Salt and burn all the way, baby."

Dean nodded as he fought the urge to ask if he could go with them. He already knew the answer. Plus, he had to stay with Sammy and make sure he was okay and keep his mind off what was happening. It was his job – protect Sammy. The kid was only six. He was way too young to learn that the world wasn't all puppy dogs and rainbows.

"Can I see him?"

"Dude, he's pretty fucked up right now," Caleb replied honestly. "I don't think he'd want you to see him like this. He'd kick my ass when he's better for it actually."

"Just… hurry, okay?"

Reaching out a hand, Caleb ruffled the kid's locks. He didn't say anything, didn't want to break a promise in case they couldn't save John in time. It was as though a switch flipped and he was deteriorating faster than ever. He'd be damned, though, if he didn't go to the edge of the world to try.

Author's Notes: I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Please, leave a review and let me know what you think! :)