A/N; Long road to get here - and I hope you all think it was worth your time. I really have learned a lot through writing this - lessons about technical stuff and motivation too (LOL). Heartfelt thanks to all of you with the patience of a Saint to put up with my erratic posting habits. Also the feedback you all gave was invaluable as pointers and confidence boosters. This was the hardest tale I have taken on so far - as it is, seeing that people actually read my stuff continues to be a source of amazement for me. For all the readers and the reviewers - you have turned me into a rabid junkie .... THANK YOU!!!!!

Hope this works for you all - let me know how you find it -

Abi.

Chapter 10

The room was the very epitome of a wacky Alice in Wonderland montage. Samuel Winchester thrived on logic – it was one of the main reason he had selected Law at Stanford University; but conversely also one of the main reasons he made a skilled hunter. The scene before him was just so a-typical of his abnormal life that he fought hard to reign in the slightly worrying case of the giggles that threatened to break loose. He surveyed the scene and skipped through the chain of events that had led them to this point. Caleb and Pastor Jim; their childhood role models and protectors were currently immobilized, suspended high up on the far wall, like helpless flies on sticky paper. Dean, his personal Guardian Angel and defender of Sam's faith in not only God but mankind; was standing at a skewed angle, propped up by the worn mahogany bar, on a mission from the vengeful spirit of his childhood friend; to take out her Father. The fierce spirit of eight year old Ruth Henley had (to give the little lady her tarnished dues) taken out a trio of seasoned Hunters, and unless he was sorely mistaken, his "enlightened" tactic to divert her attention and buy Caleb and Jim some time, was going to end with her handing him his ass.

What made matters worse was, that said move had backfired in it's primary objective of saving Dean, instead it had worked in conjunction with Deputy Henley regaining consciousness, to force Dean into the worst stalemate. Dean took his role as protector deadly seriously – Sam could not even begin to reason what it cost his big brother, to have to choose between two of his charges. But sadly in the end Sam knew there were no paths left to choose from for Dean. When Ruth had turned on Sam, she had crossed that line Dean had engraved on his heart in indelible ink – and no matter what else it cost him, whatever bill he felt he owed her to pay … there was no way he'd stand by, as long as he had breath to stand, and let her harm Sam. In his world of Weird Winchester truths, Dean was the most constant. Sam often feared that whilst Dean's bond with him had been a crucial saving grace in his life, his own contribution to that relationship would one day be his brother's undoing. As fearsome as Ruth's thirst for vengeance was, Dean's sense of loyalty to his family … to Sam; would take the eldest Winchester to far more terrifying places. Sam almost felt sorry for the undeniably tormented little girl's spirit – that was until he looked in to his brother's wasted, bloodshot eyes and knew with certainty, if he had the means right now – that little bitch would be smoke and ashes.

The room was filled with – crazies. In all his years on the force nothing had prepared Graham Henley for the events unfolding around him. The return of the Winchester kids, the lies (heaven help him – outright lies!) of the Pastor covering for the elder of those two punks… the one who'd led his little Angel astray, the threatening looking bald guy who glared at him like he was still debating if he was playing the right odds in letting Henley live … it was all just so messed up. Henley knew it was not due to his usual self medicating habits – he had toned that down… ironically now, as it seemed today was a day designed for getting plastered.

The oddest thing for Henley, was that, the part of all this Freak show that should have had him running for the hills – the apparent resurrection (in spirit anyway) of his little, long dead Ruth – was the very thing giving him the most comfort. She had found her way back to him. She was pissed as hell at Winchester and his ghoulish friends – that must be why she wore that look of disgust. But by some miracle she had found her way back to him… all those times he had shaken off that familiar feeling, it had been her, and now his clever girl was here with him, speaking to him, asking his opinion like the dutiful daughter she was. How he had prayed for this chance to explain to her – and now it appeared he didn't need it at all. An almost euphoric sense descended on him. He couldn't fully grasp what she was saying – that was not helped by the aftermath of being assaulted by Winchester's bald goon, whose ass he was so going to kick. But with genuine pride he gazed at his little darling once more – tuning in to what was going on as best he could; he sighed blissfully as he watched his child float towards him.

Dean could not get past how blown to hell all this was. His attempt to handle his own business without dragging anyone else into his own private filth had gone severely wrong – it was the Mother of all Fuck up's, and it was his fault. How many times in his life was he going to have to learn this lesson the hard way – falter… fail to act …. And you just plain fail. He had every intention of fulfilling his promise to Ruth – as much of a wedge as it would drive down his throat; he knew Sam would never understand … How could he, he had no idea of the depraved depths Ruth would go to, to see her version of justice done. After the guilt he felt his soul mired in over the past few days, what was a little of that bastards blood on his hands?! The only real claim to humanity that depraved piece of shit had, was scoring the same number of chromosomes as the rest of the race. But now Dean realized that Ruth could not stop there.

On his way here to "summon" her Father to his trap, he had made a pit stop. She had been so assured of his utter compliance that she had left him alone. He winced as his grip tightened on her bible – her trust in him may yet be her downfall … again. His intention had been some last minute recon to sure up his plans for her Father's overdue demise, instead he found, near her old man's bed, the one thing that had evaded Sam and the other Hunter's in their attempts to help him. The permanent solution – the means of ending Ruth's afterlife. The Hunter in him had taken it almost subconsciously – though he had no intention of ever using it for his own self preservation. Yet here he was holding the last string that tied Ruth here. Funny how only in his line of work could a precious thing of love and remembrance be turned into a weapon of annihilation. Funnier still – he actually did laugh out loud, adding to the impression of crazy he was certain he was leaving on his nearest and dearest- that in the process of protecting Sam he was also protecting the bad guy. This was not his intention either – but he had no choice.

Taking a last deep breath, he wished he could force some kind of a convincing stance from his body – but he had to make do, and move fast. He tried to get her attention again as she moved towards her prone Father with all the grace of a hungry cat eyeing the Tweedy bird.

"Ruth – not that I really give a shit what goes down between you and Daddy dearest there – but me and mine are going …."

Her head whipped round at an unforgiving angle that made Dean swallow despite himself. "Not so fast El- Deano. This reckoning you bring with you – on my behalf, as you so eloquently put it to Dad; it's not just for him you know?"

"Actually – I did" he whispered to himself as much as to her, slowly thumbing the small worn book.

She missed the motion, but had stopped in her tracks noting something of a change in him perhaps. "You do see that it's necessary don't you – it's the only way I will find peace Dean – the only way you'll save me."

He smiled at her recklessly, tears pooling brightly in his eyes. "For my part – you know I am always in on any of your harebrained schemes … but the others… I can't…"

"The H.E.L.L you say – Dean, you are not going anywhere near that fucking little psychopath - are you crazy???" Sam's voice climbed higher than a six year old at a "Hello Kitty" convention.

She blurred her head to Sam, hissing like a snake poised to strike. "I am not going to grieve your passing one iota runt."

"Hey – you two … give it a break; it's like a God Damned time warp!!!" Dean's incredulous voice held more strength than he did.

He ground his teeth as he shifted his weight to stay upright. Making a grab for the bar behind him, he knocked the bottle across the countertop. Dimly he registered the grunts of the other two hunters' in the room as they fell to earth with a thump.

"We have covered this Ruth – I pay my debts. But the others – you can't kill enough people to take that feeling away. It won't help you – there is no peace at the end of this road; just more pain. I know – I have walked in your shoes remember? These people – they are my family Ruth, like your Mother, I would give … anything … to keep them safe. I can't let you harm them – I deserve your anger, and my regret, my sorrow won't wash away what I owe you." He let the tears fall haphazardly as he begged for what he prized above all else – even his own existence.

Jim's heart broke – not for the first time, when dealing with the Winchester's. These were his boys – his heart had claimed them as children. He had watched over them with as much pride and trepidation as any biological Father, and hearing Dean plead for all their lives at the price of his own, brought tears to his eyes. It was then that he noticed the book lying on the counter, slowly soaking in the liquid covering the bar. He also noticed a small glinting object in Dean's left hand – the one concealed behind his back, feigning support. Murphy knew the Hail Mary play when he saw it being set up; and Dean was not going to run this one alone. John Winchester might not have answered the call… but Jim would.

"Ruth" Jim called gaining her attention immediately and ignoring the brief look of surprise that crossed Dean's still too pale features.

Jim suppressed his smile – that was Dean, always shocked that there were those willing to stand up for him in return.

"If you are looking to appoint blame for the wrongs that befell you in your life and the shameful aftermath of your death, I know that you must see my part as being far more tainted than Dean's. You would be right."

"Jim" Caleb hissed warningly "We have only just made it back down to earth – we are of no use to him if she puts us through the next wall!"

The Pastor ignored his fellow hunter as he began to advance towards the fallen Deputy.

Ruth growled at the clergyman, he had always put her on edge. She should have put a more permanent end to his meddling a while back. Too many sides to watch at once … her instincts realized her attention was being divided.

"What are you up to Pastor – you putting in for a promotion with the man upstairs? Save the damned; reserve a Heavenly Condo?!"

A disapproving sound from her Father almost had her laughing – the arrogant fool believed that this was some form of miracle – she could read it in his semi – soused expression.

"Ruthie – I know you are upset baby, but there is no need to talk … you know I was always proud of your gentle ways … so like your Moth…"

"I. AM. NOT. HER.!!!!" Her scream rebounded off the walls forcing all five men to grab their ears. "Even now your twisted version of faith has you being rewarded for beating nine bells out of your own family doesn't it – you sick fuc…"

"Ruth!" His voice was strangled – as if he'd just heard profanity from the lips of his favorite Saint.

She snarled as she advanced on him, unable to contain the need for his blood anymore. Dean and his self righteous Hunters could do their worst, but they would not deny her what was hers by right … her vengeance.

Dean watched with a sinking feeling in his heart as Jim moved closer to what would soon become Ruth's hunting ground – the Pastor was too close to Deputy Henley. His hand was being forced again – he was too late, always too late. He used the last of his reserves of strength to twist just enough to strike the lighter and throw it at the alcohol soaked book. His final clear picture was of the last possession of Ruth Henley. Her most prized treasure- going up in smoke. The small entwined braid of hers and her mother's hair, tied in a yellow ribbon, peeked out from inside the Bible, catching fire and igniting quickly. It was accompanied by a young shrieking voice. The last protest of the only friend Dean had ever had, outside the world of hunting – and a searingly vivid reminder why, he had never… would never… allow that to happen again. Unconsciousness was one of the few blessings that Dean did court, and he let it take him with every inch of his shattered soul as he hit the floor.

Henley's eyes bulged in horror as his Angel's face morphed into that of an ill begotten Devil. Her claws – yes definitely claws – bearing openly towards him. She charged him screeching foul curses and accusations – but didn't get very far. Her face became contorted with pain and mixed with terror and then she … burned. Henley was on his feet in an instant – moving faster than he thought possible, he made his way towards her burning figure. For her part, Ruth though screaming in agony reached out and laid claim to what she had felt was hers all along – her Fathers throat.

Both Jim and Caleb took a step backward as the fire seemed to burn brighter consuming both the figures in its centre. The ghostly fire did not burn away the living, the same way it eradicated spirits. It did however leave in its wake another corpse. The elder hunters stood over Henley's lifeless body and wide horrified vacant eyes.

" I pray there is no peace where he is heading" Jim uttered fiercely, drawing a shocked look from Caleb, even as the hunter was summoned to Dean's side by Sam's worried call.

Jim found himself feeling terribly cold inside – but for the first time in many years his hunter's instinct had taken the lead and was already forming cover stories for the boys. Henley had taught him something… other than shame. The deputy had taught him that evil existed in the normal world too – and that it was not above using all the loopholes at its disposal. Jim was damned if he was going to enable that type of get out clause again.

Dean slept solidly for two days, with his three guardians watching over him. Brolin had monitored him closely, concerned that the Supernatural assault might have left some lasting damage. Jim prayed by his bedside – keeping his vigil between his duties in the Parish and the pretence he had sold Sheriff Takins. The fabric of lies was ably supported by the townsfolk's guilt at the posthumous discoveries of exactly what Deputy Henley was able to get away with right under their noses. Sam talked. He talked constantly feeling the need to keep Dean linked to this world – to him, in case his brother had other ideas. He had been shocked to his core, that his rock solid brother had actually been contemplating serving himself up to Ruth Henley's insatiable appetite for vengeance. He had not mis-heard Dean would have let her take her pound of flesh – his flesh. So Sam kept talking to ensure that his brother was in no confusion as to which direction home was in. He was certain Dean must have heard some of it – what he hoped was that Dean didn't sense when Sam's words spilled over and rained down his cheeks –

How could you think of leaving me like that Dean?

When Dean had finally awoken, it was to the sound of a text from his Father. Co-ordinates and something about "re-engaging the fight". It had Jim leaving the room with a little blasphemous aside, Caleb exploding volcanically and Sam grabbing the phone and tossing it out the second storey window. All of which made little difference to Dean's seemingly in-breed compliance with his Father's wishes as he got out of bed, a little hesitantly, and headed for the shower.

Two hours – and a few low key fallouts- later Dean was getting dressed in the boys room and Caleb took the seat nest to Sam to wait.

"I have already gone through this with him Sam – but now I am going to talk to the half of the Hardy boys with the common sense. He needs to rest – spirit possession is not like getting over the sniffles and that was one Supernatural smack down that he … barely made it through alive. I have no AMA papers to give that stubborn bastard, but I can't keep him hostage on my own … What'd a say Sam… still got that iron tight slip knot?"

Sam gave Caleb a pained look. "You are preaching to the choir here Doc. My whining was apparently as effective as the "good stuff" you dish out, in getting him some sleep! I want nothing more than to tell Dad where he can plot the co-ordinates for this next job … you did tell your leader his SON almost died back there right?!"

Caleb flinched. His own objections had been far less polite and had fallen un-heeded on John's ears. He opted not to share his disgust with Sam; the kid didn't need anymore gunpowder for that particular showdown.

"Look Sam, I know that Dean and I both graduated the John Winchester School of hunting – but I am worried about your brother. Your Father is … wrong on this one, if Dean keeps burying things the way John seems to expect him to – he will end up in the ground. You have more of your brother's respect than you realize …"

"Oh right – the turn-tail of the Winchester family is going to lecture the class Valedictorian on what will sustain him on the never ending road of Hunting?!"

The pale figure beside him looked angrier than Sam had ever recalled seeing him. "You know taking a stand and choosing Stanford was not your mistake Sam …. Abandoning your brother to pick up the pieces – that's where your guilt stems from. Be as pissed at Daddy as you want – but for Christ sake, man up - and take it out on him and not Dean, Sam!"

"Oh really – Butch, you plan on helping with some direction there … how about which rock exactly my Dad has hidden himself under?"

The door to the nearest bedroom slammed open and Jim strode out regarding them both sternly.

"Gentleman – I am sure you will appreciate that it is hard to corroborate a convincing cover story when one of the two main protagonists – who was supposed to have skipped town suddenly - is yelling in the background like a Wall Street Stockbroker?!"

Caleb smirked broadly into his hand. But the Pastor was not done yet, he rounded on the elder hunter.

"And you don't even exist son – how do you propose I explain to Sheriff Takins that the voices in my head are so clearly audible?!!"

"Easy Pastor Jim – just tell him that your only vice is watching 'Joanie Loves Chachie' re-runs – and you cranked the volume because you couldn't bear to miss your shows?!!" Dean's voice held almost a full measure of his old self as he entered the room.

Jim was not as convinced once he looked the young hunter over. Dean was still far too washed out, and the fact that he had left the bags on the bed for Sam to fetch, bore testament to the fact that his strength was way below par.

"I have my secondary post at Blue Earth Minnesota – the other priest there is a good friend of mine and knows how to keep his mouth shut. It's a great place to wind down Dean. Maybe you and Sam would consider…"

"Turning tail and running? Nothing personal Padre but – I think I need to get back in the saddle, Dad's right I …"

He was momentarily distracted by three sets of eye rolls of differing subtlety. Sighing heavily he looked around him at the three people he trusted most in the world (aside from Dad) and decided that for once he was going to level with them… it was the least he owed them.

"I – uh know you are all worried … and not just about the bitch slapping I took back there. The fact that I was going to help R – her out probably makes your skin crawl." He laughed thinly but never once looked up, his voice quivered and his throat constricted but he forced himself to go on. "I can't say it's something I am fine with either – looking myself in the eye in the mirror, has never been so hard. I just… wanted you all to know that I would never have chosen her over any of you… I knew what I was doing was wrong, and I never wanted any of it spilling on to you."

He dared to glance up briefly, as all was so quiet that he thought they had left the room and left him to it, not that he would blame them considering the Chick Flick moment of epic proportions he was playing out here. All three men stood solemnly watching him, he was sure Sammy was holding his breath. Sighing he rounded the last base.

" I need to go back to work … I need to stay in the game or all these … doubts … are going to drown me … I will be of no use to any of you. I fucked things up royally …it won't happen again … sorry."

He frowned heavily at the floor in the moments after, that seemed to stretch a lifetime, just waiting for … something. Absolution… an ass-kicking – whichever. But what came was utterly unexpected. He was grabbed in a rough embrace that knocked the winds from his sails. Jim's warm scent invaded his personal space for seconds – anything longer would have breeched Winchester etiquette as the Pastor knew full well. Dean found himself closing his eyes; needing and repelling the contact at the same time. When it was done he glanced up flush faced to see only Caleb standing in front of him, pointedly looking away and swatting fiercely at his eyes. Sam had exited the room, which sent a surge of panic through Dean's vein's, until his freakishly tall little brother re-entered Jim's living room both sets of bags slung over his shoulders and a classic Dean grin on his face.

He said simply "I got you Bro – ready to roll?"

And that was it. Mercifully, after Dean had not just spilled his guts, but bleed them out like a participant in some touchy feely group therapy session, there had been no demands for further explanations, enforced downtime or Medical trials from Doctor Feel good. All three witnesses to Dean's girly moment silently consented to forgive him, and give him exactly what he wanted the most – his life back.

As Sam drove them away from Pastor Jim's, Dean gave a farewell salute to the Pastor and Brolin. Looking out the windscreen he marveled at the beauty of the morning – something that was not even on his radar as he drove usually. He could see why Sammy sometimes tuned out. Sunlight signaled the beginning and the end for a "day" in the life of a hunter. The end of the hunt – but the beginning of counting the cost. Sneaking a last look at the two men who still stood at the door way watching their backs as they drove away; Dean counted himself lucky.