Disclaimer: I own nothing in the following story. All recognizable characters and locations belong to Eric Kripke, the actors who portray them and everyone in between. No money was made and no offence was intended in the telling of this story. All characters will be dusted off and returned after I have finished playing with them sometime in the very distant future.

Author's Notes: Thanks to lynxlan and Muffy for their help with betaing this story. I've updated since getting it back so any mistakes are from me.

This chapter's warnings: Lots of swear words and angsty people. ")

Shadows

By infinite shadow

Chapter 11

"So what you want to know is did I leave you in that house to die before or after I was possessed?" John asked from the doorway.

Dean felt ice cold as he stared back at his father. He wouldn't let him come any closer. He couldn't. He had to protect Sam. He'd been failing his little brother and there was no way that was going to continue.

Shadow whined at the sudden change in the room and shoved her nose at Dean's side.

"It's what you've been struggling with, isn't it?" John asked softly as he frowned at his son's reaction. Dean had never intentionally aimed a weapon at him and he had no doubt it was loaded. He could see hesitation, anger and fear in his oldest son's eyes and body language. It just increased his confusion. The only thing he knew for sure was he was at Bobby's and had faint memories of leaving a wounded Dean behind at a badly worn down house. There were other memories that were even fainter, but that was the first one that came to mind when he saw his son.

How he'd ended up at the salvage yard trussed up to a bed, bloodied, bruised and cut up beyond belief just seemed to be on the outskirts of what he could remember. John rubbed just below his raw, bloody wrists as he tried to ease the ache.

After the initial shock of being tied down to the bed had passed, he'd been relieved that they were at Bobby's. The knots had been secure, but not secure enough. He'd twisted and pulled and yanked and worked his way free. He knew there were slivers of rope embedded in his skin and he didn't care. The open wounds stung, throbbed painfully and bled openly, but it was more important to connect with his children, make sure they were ok.

Dean blinked sluggishly at the question. He had wondered when his life had come to mean so little, when he did everything for his family. Why it had been so easy for his father to leave him behind to die, alone, without a second thought. And after, when he'd thought it was all over, after he'd survived, he'd been tossed out to the enemy once again before he'd been well enough to travel for more than a few hours at a time. He was digging up graves for salt and burns then taking on a second or third job in the same night. Injures had no meaning. Slap a band-aid on it and keep going, going, going until there was nothing but a continuous never ending hunt.

While it still bothered him to no end, ate at him, tore him up inside that he was worthless, it didn't matter right this second. Keeping Sammy safe now was the only objective that meant anything.

"John, you feeling ok?" Bobby asked as he stood up and took a hesitant step towards his friend, unsure if it was to put a buffer between the man and his children or if it was because John looked like he was about to fall on his face.

Shadow stayed where she was tucked right next to Dean. Her eyes never leaving John.

John looked down as if assessing the damage for the first time. "Yeah."

"Well why don't we get you checked out properly in your room," Bobby suggested, taking another cautious step forward. If Dean's reaction was any indication to go by the boys were not ready to see their father quite yet. He had to get John squared away so he could get Dean tended to as well.

John shook his head. "I'm fine. You ok, son?"

Dean bristled at being called that in such a quiet and calm way. As if he cared. Asking in a tone just like the man his father used to be almost a year ago would have addressed him after being injured. But he didn't know, he couldn't tell for sure who this really was, father or demon. On top of that he'd not been able to tell for months that there had been a demon in his father. As much as he wanted this to be his real father now, he just didn't know, not for sure. Without knowing for sure there was no way he was getting any closer to his little brother. "I'm good. I don't want you here," he said plainly.

John took a step into the room frowning slightly.

Shadow sat up and growled lowly in her throat.

Dean eased the safety off the gun and held a little tighter to his brother. His stomach recoiled slightly as his mind couldn't help but think of how badly he'd failed his little brother in the last few months. "Shadow," he whispered.

She whined but the growl stopped. She shifted so she was looking at John and Bobby before she sat back down, lying against Dean once more.

Sammy sighed slightly in his sleep and shifted to get a more comfortable position. Then he yawned still mostly asleep but he could hear the voices around him. Something was telling him he had to wake up right now, but he knew Dean was there, so things had to be ok.

"Dean, son, it's me," John said as he brought up his open hands slightly, palms out. There were deep scores circling his wrists that needed tending, but he did his best to ignore it. "The demon's gone."

The eldest son shook his head slightly as his thumb drew back the hammer. "I don't believe you. I can't. Step back," he whispered firmly as he went pale.

Sam felt his brother shaking slightly and his eyes cracked open even though he didn't want to wake up.

"Now hold on," Bobby said as he turned to face Dean. "Just give me a minute to check. Don't do anything you might regret boy."

"I already have those," Dean answered not looking at Bobby.

"John don't," Bobby warned, knowing it wouldn't take much for the older teen to pull the trigger as he saw the man about to step forward. "Dean, take a breath here. I did some things you don't know about to protect all of us."

"Dean?" Sam asked his voice whisper soft from sleep, his face crumpled in confusion.

"S'ok, Sammy," Dean murmured to him and rubbed his arm, his focus never leaving his father. "I've got you. No one gets to you this time."

John cleared his throat.

Bobby glared at him, warning him to back off.

Dean's finger was hovering just over the trigger. "Don't. Just leave. Please. Just go," he whispered.

John shook his head. "Sammy, you ok?" he asked as he took a step forward.

Shadow lifted her head barely an inch off her paws and growled lowly as her hackles rose and her muzzle rippled.

Dean froze. It was like he was seeing a monster advancing on them. He shifted, pulling his little brother tighter against him tucking his face into his chest.

Seeing John start to move, Bobby knew he was already too late but he reached for the weapon anyway hoping to keep the boy from shooting his own father.

Dean squeezed the trigger, his hand recoiling slightly up into Bobby's hand. The sound echoed in the room, sounding louder than it really was, and John went down in a heap to the floor. Shadow snarled, then barked several times in quick succession as she jumped down from the bed. She was on John a second after he hit the ground her paws dug at him and she growled and snarled over him.

"God Damn," Bobby swore as he wrenched his hand away, tucking it under his other one and held it tightly against his chest. He could feel it burn and it brought tears to his eyes at the sudden pain. "Shadow einsperren!"

Immediately the dog stopped and moved quickly away.

"Christ Dean what the hell is wrong with you!" Bobby demanded

John groaned from where he was lying on the floor. He rolled onto his side and slowly made his way onto his knees. "Dean?" he asked confused.

Bobby was looking at his friend's wound from across the room, but it looked to be just a flesh wound on his upper arm. He was furious. His arm ached from the burn, his head hurt from the report of the gun and he was just plain angry that Dean had actually pulled the trigger. Pulling his hand away from his chest, he took in the red angry swollen flesh and bristled.

"Damn it kid, what the hell?" he demanded as looked over to the bed about to tear the kid a new one, his anger in full steam, but the bed was empty. His heart lurched slightly as he realized Dean had wrenched his scared little brother out of bed and shoved Sammy into the corner. His death grip on his sibling's shirt was still there and he still managed to stand in front of him.

Shadow was right beside Dean. Her ears were back, her head was bowed slightly and her focus was solely on John.

The older teen was staring wide eyed at his father. He was shaking slightly. His arm was fully extended with the gun still aimed directly at John. Dean was breathing hard and his lower lip was trembling slightly. For a second Bobby thought he was upset that he'd shot his father, but he was wrong. It was pure unadulterated anger.

The material around his father's arm was ripped and blood flowed freely down his arm. Dean just wanted him to walk towards him again. He wasn't sure why he'd hit his arm. He'd wanted his heart, or his head. Something he couldn't stand up from. Bastard deserved no less. It was a waste of a shot. He should've just taken him out. Sammy would've been safe then. He'd screwed up again.

He'd shot his father. He'd done that and he couldn't find it in himself to be sorry. He was angry, seething, filled with rage. "Get out," he said softly. Get up. Take a step towards me again. I want another shot. Damn it! Give me another shot!

John's hand slowly moved to cover the wound. He blinked in surprise. "Dean, I…"

"Nothing you say will make a difference. Get out," he said. The words were calm but he was anything but.

John looked like he wanted to argue but nodded. He used the wall to support himself until he could stand, leaving bloody handprints on the wall before he turned and left the room.

Bobby looked at Dean, trying to figure out what to say when empty eyes turned to look at him.

"I should have killed him while I had the chance," he whispered and blinked once. "Why didn't I just kill him? Things would be so much easier now."

Slowly Bobby stepped around the bed and stopped in front of Dean. "Give me the gun," he said calmly.

Dean glanced down to his hand then up at Bobby. His eyes were wide and he was breathing hard. "I… I can't."

Bobby nodded. "Yes you can. Just let me take it."

The older teen swallowed heavily as he glanced at the door then back to Bobby. "How can I protect Sammy without it?"

"You have Shadow and I can help you," Bobby answered. "Will you let me?"

Dean shook his head. "No. Sammy's mine… My responsibility. I won't let him get hurt again."

"Dean? Can you lemme out now?" Sammy asked as he tried to get out from behind him.

"No. It's not safe," Dean answered.

"Sure it is, Dean," Bobby said. "He can come out now. Both of you should be sitting down anyway."

"But what if…," Dean started to ask then shook his head.

"He won't be back in here," Bobby assured him quickly, but could still see the doubt. "Trust me, son."

Dean looked at him for a few moments before his shoulders seemed to sag. "It's safe?"

Bobby nodded.

"Do I have to give you my gun?"

"I'd appreciate it if you did," Bobby answered leaving the final decision to the teen.

Dean's eyes darted to the empty doorway again then went back to Bobby. "Will you stay?" he whispered.

"If you want me to."

Dean nodded, then held up his gun with a shaking hand. The handle was stained with blood and the older teen stared at it for a second.

Bobby took the weapon and tucked it in the small of his back. He watched Dean bring Sam out into view. "Hey, I need to look at your hand."

"Just a scratch," Dean mumbled as he watched his little brother closely.

Sammy gasped as he saw blood on the wall. He glanced up at his brother. "You shot dad?" he asked with wide eyes and a voice filled with wonder.

"Yeah," Dean answered with a sigh and a slight one shoulder shrug. "Flesh wound."

"Why?" Sam asked softly.

"He was coming for you," Dean answered in a whisper. "I couldn't let him touch you."

The younger boy nodded, then looked at his uncle. "Was it dad or the demon?"

"I'm sure it's your dad," Bobby answered. "Back into bed you two."

"No," Dean said decisively. "If he stays we go."

"You need sleep and time to heal. Things need to be sorted out and nothing will be gained by runnin' from it," Bobby said.

"I don't want to stay," Sam said quietly. "I don't…"

"We're leavin'," Dean said firmly at the fear in Sam's voice as he looked down at his brother. "Still got the keys?"

"How'd you know?" Sam asked.

"Saw you take them from him earlier," Dean said. "Grab your bag."

"Dean," Bobby growled as he grabbed his arm. "You're sorely testing my patience boy. You two are stayin' put if I have to tie your entire pain in the ass stubborn fool family to their beds."

"You don't get it do you?" Dean countered as he yanked his arm back.

"Enlighten me," Bobby snarled.

"I let this happen. Everything that's happened since leaving Jim's is my fault," Dean yelled.

"No Dean," Sam said as he wrapped his hand gently around his brother's wrist trying to get his attention.

"I wasn't there when Sammy needed me to be. I didn't protect him. The whole reason dad's like this was because I didn't my job!"

"Right. And you can hole up somewhere and do nothing but watch him without sleep and without supplies. With no one to watch your back? And when it gets too much who's gonna watch out for him when something happens to you?" Bobby shot back.

"Dean," Sam said again and gave his brother's arm a gentle shake to get his attention. "It's not your fault. It's not."

Dean looked from Bobby to Sam, between anger and forgiveness. He felt sick, his head was spinning. He knew he had to do something, anything, to protect Sam. He couldn't stay with someone that was a threat to his little brother.

"We can stay here. Dean," Sam whispered. "You always say Uncle Bobby's is the safest place ever."

"But what about…"

"Maybe Uncle Bobby can keep dad away until we heal up a bit to deal with this," Sam answered then looked at his uncle.

Bobby nodded. "Yeah."

"But … Sammy… I…," Dean mumbled it was all too much. He needed to rest, he needed to protect Sam. He felt Shadow whine next to him. Her paws were suddenly on his chest as she tried to lick at his face. Dean tried to push her away and heard Bobby and Sammy talking to her, calling her down. He started to shake and the world tilted traitorously before his eyes fluttered closed and he passed out.

"Dean!" Sam gasped.

"I got em. Damn it," Bobby growled as he cradled the teen in his arms and eased him onto the bed. He pulled away the soiled gauze around Dean's hand and shook his head. He sighed softly as he pulled back his blood stained t-shirt sleeve. "Idiot. You'll do anything for Sammy but can't look after yourself worth shit."

"Dean?" Sam whimpered quietly next to him as he gave him a little shake. "Please wake up. Dean?"

"Sam? You listen to me. He's going to be fine. Just stay with him while I'm gone. I'll be quick ok? Just need to get a few supplies."

Sam glanced at the doorway where his father was then back at his uncle. "Yes sir," he replied shakily.

Bobby got up and gave three sharp whistles. Shadow immediately bounded back into the room and up onto the bed. "Right back buddy. Hang tight."

Sam watched his uncle leave the room before he looked back at the ashen face of his big brother. "You gotta be ok, Dean. I… I shoulda told you… Tried harder… You didn't listen cause you were so upset with other stuff. I… I knew… I didn't want to make you even madder… like dad was… I… I thought you were already mad at me for other stuff," he whispered and his breath caught in his chest a few times.

Bobby rushed back into the room with a small bag in his hands. "You wanna help me out here, kiddo?"

Sam nodded shakily.

"Ok," he replied as he took out alcohol pads and wiped clean the palm of Dean's hand where he'd sliced it for the blood ritual. "When I ask for it you, hand me what I need from that bag. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Sam said softly.

"Good."

It didn't take long, but more than ten stitches later Bobby had the wound closed and was wrapping it in gauze. "Didn't he even notice that he was bleeding?"

"Sometimes he doesn't. He hasn't lately. Just keeps saying slap a bandage on it. Not like it matters," Sam answered as he ducked his head slightly.

"Sammy, how long has this been going on?"

With a soft sigh the boy raised his head slightly. "Felt like forever," he whispered before he stretched out next to his brother and put his head on the pillow.

Bobby taped the gauze and put the rest of the supplies back into the bag.

"Really over, Bobby?" he asked sleepily. "Are we really safe here? Your place is supposed to be safe."

Bobby stopped fiddling with the supplies and looked down at the youngest Winchester. "My place will always be a safe haven for you boys. Don't ever forget that, Sam. And no matter what you're feeling, you're safe now. Get some sleep. I'll be here as long as you need me."

Sam looked at him for a moment. "Will Dean be ok?"

Bobby frowned at him. "You've seen your brother worse off than this."

"Yeah, I guess," the boy said softly as he moved onto his side and curled his hand over his brother's arm.

The older man smiled slightly recognizing the move from when Sam had been much younger. "Get some sleep."