Chapt 9?
Pairing: Sam/Dean (gen)
PG13- language warning.

A/N: Because peeps requested that Dead!Mary had it out with John over his questionable parenting (in this fic anyway)Yes... that scene between Dead!Mary and John is included!

Longer than usual – just shy of 4000 w/count this time.

If all goes to plan, there will probably be another 2 Ch's.

Disclaimer: Supernatural and them guys are not mine. This is not for profit

Chapter 9

John Winchester wasn't finding sleep easily. Not when his sons were only a floor away. Not when his oldest, self-controlled and strong, had been made into a shadow of himself, with abrupt and sporadic mood changes. And most definitely not when Dean was walking around with Mary, the mother of his children, attached like an unseen accessory.

Part of him wanted to scream, that he didn't need this right now, that he just needed the focus of the hunt, on the truth, on the end. But part of him wanted, needed, to hear Mary, see her, feel her. He didn't resent Dean for having those things. In fact he was terrified for him.

John felt ashamed for his behaviour earlier in the day. The want and need for answers overtook his brain and he had blatantly ignored the alarmingly fast way Dean had cracked. He knew, remembered, how Dean had reacted when Mary had died, the months of a subdued and silent four year old, who would tug at his sleeve, eyes wide, as he tried desperately to form words. Dean had been one, of the many arguments, he'd had with Mike, his partner back at the old garage before he'd finally taken the kids and hit the road. Mike had found himself at the bad end of John's anger and rage, when he had uttered something along the lines of 'That kid, he aint right in the head, and you know it'.

So yes, John did realise how much this could, and should be affecting Dean. He'd already seen the scars to prove it.

A noise outside of the room, creaking floorboards, made his eyes shoot open, alert and stiff. Quietly, he pushed himself up from the couch. Although his shoulders and back screamed in unwillingness, her kept his moves silent and coordinated, as he made his way across the room. He gently and quietly pushed the door open a crack and peered through.

Dean was at the door front door, hand fumbling with the lock.

John pushed the door open, fully, with his body and stepped out into the hallway.

"Dean?" John asked, "Where are you going?"

John was half-expecting, or half-hoping for, a 'Just checking on the car' but he didn't reply as he finally succeeded in unlocking the door, attempting to walk out on to the steep steps.

"Dean!" John hissed, voice kept at a pitch so as not to wake anyone else, "I asked you a question!"

He followed Dean out and grabbed at his arm, stalling Dean's descent on the third step.

"Dean?" John asked, reaching the step as he turned to study him. Dean wasn't just not responding to John – his eyes weren't even focusing on anything, they just looked across the garden and the street, shimmering with wetness of a light drizzle as a chill filled the air, eyes glassy, "Dean?"

He waved a hand in front of his son's unfocused and unblinking stare.

Dean was sleepwalking, John thought, or that's at least what he thought it was.

"O.K." John said, slowly tugging Dean's arm and turning him around, so that they were facing the open doorway and warming light. Dean appeared to move quite easily with the small prompt, "Let's get back inside".

They slowly walked back into the hallway, John pushing the front door closed, with a gentle shove from his still-booted foot.

"Let's get you back into bed" John said quietly.

"John Winchester!" Dean suddenly exclaimed, body going from slack to stiffening in mere seconds, "I've got a bone to pick with you".

"Dean?" John asked, startled by the exclamation, as they both stalled in the hallway.

"No Johnny" Dean replied, turning to look at him, "Try again".

"Mar… Mary?"

Dean's face broke into a sad smile, eyes threatening to spill, as he raised his hand and lightly touched the side of John's face.

"What are you doing to our sons?" Dean asked.

John's hand shot up to his face, fingers holding on to Dean's. Was Mary using Dean to communicate?

"What… what's going on?" he asked hesitantly.

"I can't keep this up for long" Dean explained, "He'll wake soon".

"Mary, is this really you?" John asked, heart thumping wildly. John knew it wasn't uncommon for spirits to communicate through somnambulism.

"Yes Johnny" Dean's voice replied with a twang of annoyance, "If I could use my own voice I would, but Dean doesn't come with an interchangeable voice-box".

"Oh god, Mary" John breathed out, his vice catching, as he squeezed the fingers at his face, "I don't know where to…"

"Cut the B.S Johnny" Dean's voice shot at him, pulling his hand away, "You're sons needed you, why weren't you there?"

"Mary, please…" he began.

"He was dying" Mary prodded Dean's finger into his chest, "He wanted you there".

"I was there" he defended weakly.

"In the shadows?" the voice shook with anger, "It's not enough. Not the coordinates, not the occasional calls. They need to know you care".

"I care" he whispered, desperately, grabbing at Dean's arm, "I've been trying to protect them".

"By running away from them?" Dean's voice argued back, "Don't you understand that by pushing them away, your hurting them more?"

John started to reply, but Mary held one of Dean's hands up, more feminine then Dean would have, but still ferocious and angry.

"Especially Dean" the voice shook with anger and one tear spilled over, "God John, you know what he was like when I died. You know how important it is to have you and Sam in his life".

"You saw that?" John asked, his own voice breaking.

"I've been with you and the boys from the day I died" she replied.

"But I…" he began, confused, "I thought…the house?"

"I've been in the house since that day" Dean's voice continued, "But that doesn't mean I don't feel what's going on. When something happens to you or the boys I feel it".

John leant on the wall and blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill, raising his hands to his face and rubbing tiredly.

"I just wish you'd show some balls and admit that you're just as scared of loosing them as Dean is with you and Sam" Dean's voice said gently, "I know part of the reason you stay away is because you can't bare to watch them die."

"I'm sorry" he whispered, "I just want it all to end".

"I know Johnny" Dean's voice penetrated through to him, soft and gentle, "And I don't know if I have the answers you want".

He looked over at Dean, dropping his hands in defeat and wondered if the shining eyes that were 'so' Mary at this moment of time, had always been a part of Dean.

"When you die, you don't get handed the answers to everything" Dean's voice continued, "But you do become a part of the spiritual world… it's almost like a realm of interweaving nerves. Everything becomes connected".

"What do you mean?" John asked curious.

"It's starting again John" Dean replied seriously, "I can feel it… every time someone is taken. We all become spiritually connected".

John looked at her, eyes widening.

"But I think you already had your suspicions" Mary smiled as Dean.

"Mary…" John began.

"I know you Johnny" Dean's voice interrupted, "You've always been 'militia' about things and I know you'll do your best to stop it. Just promise me one thing?"

"Anything" John replied.

"Don't push them away" Dean's voice said, reaching forward and touching John's face with light fingers again.

"I need to keep them safe" John said quietly.

"And you will" Dean's voice broke slightly, lips trembling, "But just not this way. They're special, John, they're important" he paused slightly, sadly, as Mary cocked Dean's head to the side, quizzically, "But I'll guess you'll figure that out in your own time".

"Mary…" John started to say again.

"I love you, I do, I'm just kinda pissed is all" Dean's voice replied, a small delicate bubble of sad laughter passing his lips.

"I love you so much" John said, voice low and gruff as he cupped his own hand over Dean's, "God, I really wish you were you, so I could kiss you right about now".

Dean broke out into a more natural laugh, too light and airy, to be his own.

"Yeah… because that would mess Dean up for sure".

Dean suddenly gasped and choked out a small sob as his eyes locked with John's before painfully breathed out "Love you, miss you".

Dean continued to gasp, hand dropping from John's face, as he took in an overdeveloped breath, like a last ditch attempt at preserving life, as he sagged limply against John's chest.

"Dean?" John asked, arms instantly stalling Dean, into place, against him.

"Dad?" Dean replied, voice slurred and mumbled, "-at's going on?"

"Nothing" John replied, pulling Dean up straighter, and placing a supporting arm around his waist, "Let's go back to bed, o.k.?"

Sam awoke with a start as he felt the door open and the temperature drop. He stiffened and pushed himself up, arm reaching for Dean. His fingers brushed empty sheets instead and he tried to stifle the alarmed breath threatening to escape from him. His hand was halfway to the lamp when his father spoke out across the darkness.

"Leave it off".

"Dad?" Sam asked, rubbing his eyes, trying to adjust to the dimness, curtains pulled, blocking the light quite effectively. He could just about make his father's body, arm wrapped around…

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, trying to entangle himself from out of the sheets, which had appeared to have pooled around his feet, "What happened?"

"Keep your voice down" John warned quietly, "Just took a stroll is all. Stay there, help me get him settled".

"Sleepwalking?" Sam asked, finally straightening the covers and pulling them back.

"He came too a bit, but he's still really disorientated" John replied, gently pushing a half-standing, half-sagging, Dean on to the edge of the bed.

John lifted his legs up, letting Sam pull, as they both twisted his body, so that he was lying flat. Dean blinked up, eyes bleary, as lips smacked together, words slurring with sleep, "Love you".

John looked down in surprise and wondered how much of Mary's energy was messing with him. If in fact it was Dean at all… maybe his mother's late night visit had a residual effect and she was still using Dean's own semi-consciousness.

To any outsider Dean would have appeared drunk, and the last time he'd had to put his son to bed, like this, had been a few days after Sam had left for Stanford. A hunt that could have gone better, a pool hustle gone wrong, and several shots later, that all refused to say down, John had found himself standing over Dean, just like he was now.

John continued to look down at Dean, unable to find the right words to speak.

Sam, hovering next to Dean, knees up and under him, on the bed, observed them, eyes moving from Dean to John. When it became apparent John wasn't going to say anything, Sam pulled the covers up over Dean and patted him lightly on the chest.

"Love you to Dean" Sam said, throwing an angry look at his father, "Go back to sleep".

Dean didn't need any encouragement, closing his eyes, he sighed with content, pulling the covers tighter around him, as he leant further into the gap Sam had inadvertently made between them.

"I'll leave you guys to get some rest" John said, still standing over the bed.

"Yeah" Sam said, disdain on his face, as he watched their father back up to the door.

"You want me to get you another sheet?" John asked, indicating weakly to Dean, who had appeared to have fully cocooned himself up in the covers, "He's taking it all up".

"I'll be fine" Sam said.

"You sure?" John asked.

"The concerns a little late" Sam said, pointedly, continuing to stare at John, "But, yeah, we'll be fine thanks".

John nodded uncomfortably and turned around, his hand resting on the doorframe, "I just want you to know, you boys mean a lot to me".

Sam looked at him and caught the sideways glance his father was giving him and Dean, noticing the sad smile, before he finally disappeared through the doorway, letting the door, quietly click shut.

"Are you o.k. to do this?" Sam asked.

"Sam, if you ask me that again…" Dean warned.

"Sorry".

They were sat by themselves, in the kitchen, their small amount of supplies stacked between them: the book Missouri had given Sam, pages bookmarked at relevant places, several white candles, a flask of holy water, a canister of salt, and several packs of matches.

They had slept for several hours after Dean had returned to the room, his sleep becoming more relaxed and restful, and it was now, yet again, dark.

"I just…" Sam began.

"Don't" Dean said, shaking his head, fingering the candles, smooth and waxy against his fingers, "I have to do this Sammy".

"I know" Sam said, pulling his backpack up, from an empty chair and placing it on the table. He picked the book up, glancing at it once, before sliding it in to the pack, "Doesn't mean I worry any less".

"Yeah" Dean grinned loosely, grabbing hold of the candles between both of his hands and passing them over to his brother, "You worry for the enough for the both of us".

"Someone has to" Sam muttered bitterly.

"Sam" Dean warned.

"Yeah, I know" Sam said thrusting the candles into the pack, "Lay off, I remember".

Dean pushed himself up and away from the chair, taking the salt, flask and matches with him. He came to a stop in front of Sam, passing the items into his waiting hands.

"Don't make it any harder than it already is Sam" Dean pleaded, his voice low.

"Sure" Sam said, closing the flap of the backpack, "C'mon, let's do this".

They both walked from the kitchen to find Missouri and their father waiting by the front door.

"You ready?" John asked.

"Yeah" Sam said.

"Missouri's going to wait here" John said, opening the front door and stepping out into the night, "Mind if I drive?"

Sam and Dean followed him, exchanging a confused look.

"You're coming?" Dean asked.

"Course" John replied, "You think I'll let you do this without me?"

"But" Dean began, watching as his father headed to the Impala.

"I'll be outside" John explained, "You need me, I'm there".

Sam bit his lip as Dean climbed down the steps and headed over to the car. He wanted to scream 'too little, too late' but he'd just promised Dean to at least try with their father, and besides Sam, begrudgingly had to admit that their Dad was making an effort with them.

He followed after them, stalling as he reached the car and glanced back at Missouri, who stood out on her porch.

"You boys call me if you need me" Missouri called after them.

Sam smiled at her, a nervous flutter across his cheeks. Missouri did not comment any further – she just smiled back at him, nodding reassuringly.

He slid into the back of the car, letting Dean ride shot gun, and watched as they backed away, Missouri standing outside her house, getting smaller by the second.

All three Winchester men stood on the sidewalk outside of their old family home. This was the first time, Dean realised, since their lives had changed twenty-two years ago, that they had been here as a family – father and sons.

"How many times have you been back here?" he asked his father.

John seemed startled by the question, but relaxed when he saw no hostility, anger or hurt in his voice. Just a sad understanding and an intriguing curiosity.

"Just a few times after the fire" John said, turning back to look at the house, "A couple of times, here and there. I rang Missouri mostly".

"Have you ever been back in?" Dean asked again, studying him.

"Not since we hit the road" John answered, his voice thick and restrained

It was ironic, really, Sam thought, that in all this time Dean didn't know the answers. For all the grief, anger, injustice and need for vengeance, they hadn't really 'spoken' about their mother dying. It really hit home that neither of them had truly dealt with it.

And although he still was glad that he didn't have to remember the events of that night or of the mother he hadn't, so to speak, lost, he realised with a sickening weight that he'd never have that common ground that Dean had with their Dad. There was a connection there he'd never have.

"So" Dean spoke up, "I guess this it".

"Sure" John said, clearing his voice, as he opened the door to the Impala, so Sam could pull the backpack free, "I wish I could be in there with you two".

"Thanks" Dean replied, turning away from his father.

"And I know this is hard" John said, raising his voice, hoping it could be carried to Dean, who'd already started to make his way across the garden, "But at least she will be at rest".

Dean continued to look at the house and the tree that he thinks he remembers sitting under, with his mother, one sunny afternoon in the autumn, eating sandwiches and throwing crispy leaves at each other.

Sam stood watching Dean slowly make his way across the garden.

"I'm serious Sam" John said, sliding back into the car, rolling the window down, so he could continue talking, "You call me if things go south".

"Yes sir" Sam said, slightly surprised at how easy it was to slide right back into obedient soldier mode. He nodded once at his dad, then trailed after Dean, until they were both stood, again, outside the front door.

"You sure about this?" Sam asked and then wondered if Dean was going to follow through on his earlier threat. He noticed the tense and hard set eyes that shadowed Dean's face.

"There's no get out clause Sammy".

"I know" Sam said, tightening his grip on the pack, searching for any sign that Dean might crumble and dissipate until there was nothing left, but all he saw was fierce determination amidst pained eyes, "It's just…".

"It's got to be done" Dean said, in such a way, Sam could have mistaken him for their father on a hunt.

Dean unexpectedly shoved Sam forward; his body colliding, roughly with the door, "Do the honours".

"You might be having exaggerated PMT" Sam grumbled, rubbing his elbow, where it had banged hard into the wooden, white, door, "But you're still a jerk".

"That's because you play the little bitch so well" Dean mocked, "What's your point?"

Sam knew that Dean was masking his unease up in a layer of humour, so he let it drop, instead choosing to open the door. He took a deep breath in before stepping inside, hovering in the reception area.

"Sam?" Dean's voice drew him back to his brother, who had yet to walk over the threshold, "Hold my hand, will ya"

Sam threw Dean a weary look.

"Dude!" Dean broke the silence, walking through the doorway, slapping him hard on the back, "You're such a girl".

"You're the one who asked me to hold your hand" Sam defended, "And the way you're behaving I'm surprised you haven't asked for a foot massage and a manicure already".

"Just get on with it" Dean said, face setting again, as he faced the small hallway leading to the living room.

Dean actually led the way, stopping a few steps away from the opening of the room, where he hesitated and froze. Sam gently squeezed past, touching his arm slightly, as he did so.

"I got to set up" Sam spoke, reassuringly, "You've got a few minutes yet".

Dean nodded, running a hand through his hair, and gulped nervously. He stepped, wearingly, into the room, watching Sam place the book down, before emptying the contents on the floor – the candles lined up, the flask of holy water, the canister of salt next to it, a few packs of matches, all neatly arranged into a line.

"A bit OCD there Sammy" Dean commented, coming to a stop in the middle of the room, eyes moving around and observing every corner.

"Just being prepared" Sam said, standing, taking the canister with him, "Stay still".

Sam poured the salt around him, wide enough to allow Dean to move, yet small enough to be able to enable Sam to reach him and hold on to him if he had to.

"Two legs" Dean reminded him, annoyed, "Not four".

"Whatever dude" Sam replied, circling fully around him, "Just stay inside the circle".

When he finished he placed four candles in each of the four corners of the room before spreading the remainder, in wide intervals, around the salt barrier.

"I'm going to do an incantation" Sam explained, as he shook out the matches, lighting the candles, "I'll be right here Dean".

"I hear you Sam" Dean replied, looking out to the other side of the room, Sam now back behind him.

Sam bent and picked the flask up, flicking the cap off, and sliding the book up with his free hand.

"This is it" Sam whispered. He flicked some of the holy water over Dean, making sure not to wet any of the candles and opened the book to a page he had marked earlier and began reciting in Latin.

"Redimio nos in lux lucis , defaeco nostrum animus" he began, "Expulsum phasmatis navitas quod paro suus solvo".

He realised Dean had started to tremble slightly and so as not to break the incantation, he simply reached over, letting his fingers cup around his elbow, in what he hoped was a reassuring and comforting touch.

"Plumbum suus in lux lucis" Sam continued, "Quod permissum suus persevero in suus righteous iter itineris. Solvo suus animus quod paro suus solvo".

Dean could hear Sam recite the incantation, loud and precise, his pronunciation clear and accurate. But as it continued the voice became more muffled and distorted, the fingers at his elbow less felt, and he blinked when the room started to swim before him – colour and furniture warping in a sickening swirl of expansions and retractions, until it resembled a room again.

Not the room that he had been present in moments before. The salt, candles and Sam weren't there anymore, although he was pretty sure he could hear his brother's muffled voice, distant and far away. No this room, was very familiar indeed, and it wasn't until something shimmered before him, did he realise that it was how it looked, or how he thinks he remembers it looking, back when he was still only four years old. Everything seemed smaller now or maybe it was because he was that much bigger.

The shimmering went from a slight apparition to a solid-looking form.

"Mom?" he whispered disbelievingly as she stepped forward, smiling, her white nightdress billowing around her.

"Dean" she smiled at him, voice warm and breaking.

She stepped towards him, her arms surprisingly 'there' for a spirit, sweeping around him, as his heart swelled, feeling her skin, her clothes, her hair, and familiar scent, tickling his own senses.

She pulled away, looking into his eyes as she spoke gently, "It's time".

He nodded and let her delicate fingers slip into his own as light appeared in front of them, so glorious and spectacular and inviting. They stepped together, mother and son, hands clasped together, into the invitation.

tbc

A/N2: From an automated English to Latin translation website, so any blatant mistakes, I apologise

Redimio nos in lux lucis , defaeco nostrum animus – Surround us in light, purify our souls.

Expulsum phasmatis navitas quod paro suus solvo – Expel the spiritual energy and set her free.

Plumbum suus in lux lucis – Lead her into the light

Quod permissum suus persevero in suus righteous iter itineris. Solvo suus animus quod paro suus solvo – And let her continue on her righteous journey. Release her soul and set her free.