Chapter Eleven

Thump, thwump, thumpity thump… bloodshot hazel eyes popped open suddenly. What the hell was that? Dean had always been a light sleeper, it came with the territory of being a hunter… and a big brother. Didn't matter how exhausted he was or how dreamless a sleep he was in: If there was a sound within hearing distance it was enough to wake him.

The muffled thumping quickly changed to a familiar shuffling sound of big, socked feet dragging tiredly on carpet. Sam… that was definitely Sam coming up the stairs and down the hallway. It was nice to see that Missouri was making him hit the sack too. Sounded like the psychic wonder really needed the rest too.

The room was dark as was the hallway beyond it. Dean didn't even need to close his eyes to pretend he was sleeping, just rolled over onto his side when Sam came in the room.

The shuffling sound paused briefly as the younger man took a deep breath and let it out again considering the older brother he knew was pretending to be sleeping. "Damn it Dean, I wish you'd been the one to tell me about the demon and the reaper instead of Missouri. Whatever the hell it is that's going on with you, you're going to have to start trusting me with this stuff again."

Dean didn't dare move. Oh, he was mad as hell… how dare Missouri pick his brain like that and then go behind his back to tell Sam what he'd never wanted to talk about in the first place?

Outweighing the anger was the intense need to avoid this talk at all cost. They both knew what their father had done to save him… to talk it over, to put it into words…Hell, he already knew he was to blame for all this. No amount of talking it over or apologizing would ever make up for the fact that Dean's own weakness had been the cause of their father's current situation.

Better to lay still and keep pretending until Sam fell asleep. Then… then he would get up and tell Missouri exactly what he thought of what she'd done. What was it about that woman that made her think she could just meddle around in people's lives like that?

Sam sighed when the lump on the in front of him bed made no response whatsoever. Dude wasn't fooling anyone. "Alright, fine. I'm letting you get away with it this time but only because Missouri is right. We both need the rest to be able to get through this. Don't expect me to go easy on you in the morning. Besides the fact that you're my brother, there is too much at stake here for you to be keeping secrets from me damnit."

Dean didn't answer. Wouldn't have even if he'd wanted to. There had been a lot of this since the hospital. The guilt he carried with him always, the knowledge that he should be dead… that their dad was…well, that it was because of him… the unshakable feeling of wrong that just wouldn't let go…No matter how well he hid it all Sammy always just knew it was there. His brother had never been any good at leaving well enough alone.

He heard the deep groan of relief and the loud squealing of worn out old mattress springs as Sammy settled in for the night. Turning over he could just barely make out the big lump that was Sam in the bed across the room from him. It wasn't long before the heavy breathing that came with deep sleep filled the room. Dean couldn't help it… he was still so tired… before he knew it the soothing sound had lulled him back to sleep.

Missouri for her part stood in the doorway smiling softly to herself. For two men who were so good at taking care of everyone around them including each other, they sure didn't take much time to think about themselves. It was as it should be of course, but tonight… Tonight she would be the one watching over them for a change.


Little Sammy was awake, his tiny garbling voice coming through clearly over the baby monitor on the table next to his chair. Too clearly really…it almost sounded as if he was in the room instead of upstairs in his nursery.

He'd had the dream so many times before, and it was always the same. Not once in over twenty years had it changed. Any second now Mary's soft familiar voice would join Sammy's little one asking him if everything was okay… and then would come the scream…

But it never came.

Instead the garbling became louder… and louder.

John opened his eyes hopefully. If he wasn't dreaming… then maybe it had all been some horrible nightmare. Dean would still be just a little tyke running around in cartoon pajamas and Mary would come down the stairs with a tiny Sam in her arms babbling in baby-speak as he tried out his little voice.

Instead of the comfortable old worn chair in the living room of their two-storey Kansas home though there was only a lumpy bed and a dark motel room. Right. It was a dream John, just a dream. Or maybe it was the damned demon messing with his head again…sure would explain the sound of baby that still hadn't gone away.

As disconcerting as the sound was, did the thing actually expect him to believe that it was really Sammy? His son was twenty-four now. No way what he was hearing could possibly be real… right?

Turn your head man, look around. Get your bearings and see with your own eyes what's going on in this room before that thing manages to convince you that you're crazy.

Hating that he hesitated, John was relieved to see that the TV really was on… so that was real at least… Unfortunately so was the little body that lay staring up at him, swaddled in a blanket and surrounded by pillows on the floor. Not Sam. No, that was definitely not Sam… or Dean… he had no idea where this child had come from.

Little Micheal studied the man on the bed carefully. Which one was he this time? This man…he'd had yellow eyes earlier. Before he lay down and all that black smoke stuff had come out of him… then he'd gone to sleep and talked steadily while he did. Something about a Mary, and a Dean... and that somebody called little Sammy was awake again…

The man sounded nice in his sleep. There was something in his voice that reminded Micheal of his Dad before the fire. Something warm and comforting…

Big round eyes far too knowing for such a little person were looking John over with the seriousness of an adult. They seemed to ask a question: Friend or foe? Testing his body to see if he in fact had control of himself John Winchester sure hoped he was a friend right now. Was the evil bastard inside him still? Or had it gone off to wreak havoc and destroy lives without him?

Alright, so you can sit up… that's a good sign. No voice in your head either, yet. Okay, mirror… he needed a mirror. No way he was going anywhere near that baby until he was as sure as he could be. "I'll be right back little guy." Dry mouth and sore throat made his voice much deeper and raspier than it should have been. It was his own though, not that nasty evil one that he'd become accustomed to hearing, and it brought a wide toothless grin to the little face as he passed it.

John didn't want to leave the child alone very long, he just wanted to make sure his eyes were the right color. A quick look in the mirror and a splash of cold water on his face and he chuckled softly to himself. "Well, at least I'm me… for now." As for the baby in the other room… well it had to belong to someone. He just hoped that the someone was still alive, and not burnt to a crisp somewhere…or worse.

"Well now little man, it's been a long time since I've held someone as small as you…let's see if big old John Winchester remembers how, huh?" Micheal giggled and chattered away, waving tiny arms and legs excitedly. "Maybe we can give my boys a call and see if we can't find out where you belong… but first I'm thinking food. I don't know about you but my belly is so hungry it's talking to me." Tiny fingers latched on to one of his large callused ones and squeezed tightly.

"So… what's your name? Can't very well keep calling you 'kiddo' or 'little man' now can I? I'll tell you what… you look like a Michael to me… you mind if I call you Michael 'till we get you back to your family?" The boy cooed loudly and gave him that serious look again. The little guy was trying to figure out how this John character had guessed his name like that.

John was surprised how quickly the boy had taken to him… and how quickly he'd slipped back into the role of taking care of a baby. That tiny little light of hope that he and Dean had sparked within each other grew just a tiny bit more as all the happy memories of his boys when they were small started coming back to him. It helped too that he was now in a position of protecting someone again… gave him the feeling that he was actually doing something.

"Alright then, Michael it is. I don't know how much time I've got… but let's see if we can't get some grub into us before I turn into Mr. Hyde again." …and get you out of here before that demon gets it into his head that it might be fun to hurt a tiny defenseless baby.


All the magic, all the charms, all the rituals and incantations in the world could not chase away a simple nightmare. Missouri had hoped that by protecting the house from evil and warding off negative forces the boys would be free of the dreams that plagued them. Of course, she should have known better.

Sam's nightmares were the stuff of visions. Unfortunately those dreams were not something anyone or anything could prevent. They were a curse, a tool and a gift all in one convenient package. He, thankfully, was sleeping soundly at the moment.

As for Dean… well, his dreams were a product of inner turmoil, self-inflicted guilt and fear. All things she was powerless against. He wasn't as lucky as Sam was tonight. Missouri had been up to check on them at least a dozen times already. Each and every time he'd been tossing around in his sleep, moaning incoherently. "I wish there was something I could do to bring you peace child. Maybe things don't come as easily to you as I thought." There were only two people who could help that boy now… and they were both fast asleep upstairs in her guest room.


He woke in a pitch black room to the startling realization that it was night already. Missouri had sent him upstairs sometime just after lunch… he remembered waking up briefly when Sam had come up but it had still been light out then. Sleep had snuck up on him… sleep and the nightmares that came with it lately. Ugh, they'd been as ugly as ever…

Not wanting to hash them over again one thing was clear: he needed a distraction…First things first though, he needed to find a bathroom.

The only one he'd seen so far had been the small powder room just off the kitchen. Well, go with what you know right? Suited his purpose anyway. He was hungry, thirsty and the distraction was down there too. If he remembered correctly there was a TV in the living room…

What time was it? He wondered a little later as he rummaged through the fridge looking for munchies suitable enough for the all night TV fest that was ahead of him. Just past midnight maybe? Letterman and Leno would be on… not exactly earth-shattering entertainment but it would do.

The cold remains of some tasty looking roast chicken on a plate in one hand and a bag of chips in the other Dean felt his way into the living room. No reason to wake anyone up by turning on the lights, right? Unfortunately he forgot that the TV was one of those ancient ones that had dials and didn't come with a remote control. "Aw crap!" Took him darn near ten minutes to find the 'on' switch and when he did… well he was met with the eleven o'clock news. Wonderful… it's gonna be a long night. Well at least now I know what time it is…

"Our top story of the evening: an Amber alert has been called in the town of Lawrence Kansas. Six month old Michael Connely disappeared from his crib in what is believed to have been a kidnapping just a few hours ago. This is the second tragedy to befall the Conelly family in as many days. Young mother Georgia perished yesterday as a result of a fire that began in the nursery of their home, also in Lawrence. If anyone has any information about either incident please call…"

"Dean Winchester! Aren't you supposed to be in bed sleeping? And I know you're daddy taught you better than to go helping yourself to the food in other people's cupboards without asking permission first." If it had been humanly possible Dean would have jumped right out of his own skin at the sound of that voice. Missouri stood at the bottom of the stairs in her pajamas and bathrobe with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Well, this night just keeps getting better and better." He muttered to himself darkly before turning to face her. "Look, before you start giving me an earful on how I'm an ungrateful spoiled brat I think you should see this…" but the words hadn't been necessary. She had already known.

"I know honey. That's why I came down here. You were hollering so loud I'm surprised you didn't wake up Sam." But… he hadn't made a sound…

"You don't need to open your mouth to say something Dean. I'm psychic remember?" Right, and so is Sam… though to his knowledge the psychic wonder had never read his mind before.

"You would be surprised young man. That brother of yours takes as much care of you as you do of him."

"Could you just stop doing that already? It's freaks me the hell out."

Missouri had pursed her lips and was getting ready to let him have it again when Sam's sleep roughened voice called down from the top of the stairs.

"Hey Dean? Everything okay down there?"

"Yeah" "No" Two completely opposing answers from two completely different voices. What the hell was going on now? Sam could see the two of them glaring at each other from where he stood. "Alright, sorry man… but I think I've got to believe Missouri on this one. Those daggers you're shooting at her for the 'no' are kinda contradicting the 'it's all good' your trying to make me beleive."

Oh great. As if it hadn't been enough that she was picking at his thoughts without so much as a 'please and thanks' now Sammy was doing it too? "I said everything's fine Sam. Go back to bed." He'd do it too if he knew what was good for him. Dean was in no mood for any kind of touchy-feely type crap right now. Whether it turned out to be an argument or a chick-flic moment

"You're going to have to tell him sometime… or he'll find out in the morning and be upset with you for lying to him."

Yeah, and that was going to be a fun conversation…especially since he was already pissed off that Missouri had been the one to tell him about…

"You are not going to put the blame for that on my shoulders boy! Do you hear me? Sam needs to know these things, especially now. It is not my fault that you are too stubborn to do it yourself."

Oh, he wanted to just reach out and touch someone… hard. A lot.

Instead he just walked away. Even as Sam asked where the hell he was going Dean slipped on his fathers coat and went out to the garage looking for the comfort of home: his Impala. He needed to think… If only they knewwhere their dad was…

Dark familiar pain filled him at the thought. His dad… with bright yellow eyes… even awake he couldn't fight off the nightmares. Deep breath dude. In through the nose, out through the mouth…think happy thoughts… ha right. Now that would be a neat trick wouldn't it?

The smell of aftershave and weaponry coming off the coat was purely John's and it made Dean want to cry. "Oh Dad I'm sorry!" Leaning forearms on the steering wheel before him and letting his head drop down on to them he gave up the fight. The hell with pushing the pain away… bring it on. Maybe he deserved it. He'd failed hadn't he? And for all he knew this second chance they might have, this chance to save their Dad… well he'd failed once. Who knew if he wouldn't a second time. The thought was terrifying.


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