Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way!
Summary: Dean tries to break the news to his father that Sammy isn't interested in carrying on the family business. John handles it like an ex-Marine would, and Dean storms off to the shores to cool down after the heated debate. There, he is entranced by a water succubus. Will his father realize what happened before it's too late?
Tag to "After School Special." Dean is 17 and Sam is 13.
"So she's still out there, huh?" Sam questioned Bobby once he couldn't take the silence in the truck any longer. He dropped the second half of his blueberry muffin back into the take out bag, too anxious to be hungry anymore. "That's the unfinished business dad was talking about earlier?"
"'fraid so."
"Does he know how to kill her?"
"We've got a few ideas. It'll take some research, but her time's comin' to an end. Don't you worry."
"No wonder Dean was so freaked. There's no way he's gonna be able to face her again. We'll have to figure out how to finish this ourselves. Maybe he should go stay with Pastor Jim till this is all over."
Bobby sighed, tightening his grip on the steering wheel slightly. If only that were an option at this point…Too bad Sam had been trained to read body language.
"What is it, Uncle Bobby? What aren't you tellin' me?"
Bobby looked at the boy surprised, but then reasoned that he should have seen that coming. The Winchester boys were very perceptive, and wise beyond their years. "Look, Sam… No one wants to keep Dean safe more than me and your daddy. But our hands are kinda tied on this one. We're gonna need his help."
Sam looked outraged. "You mean you need him for bait… You're gonna use him?! Bobby, how could you even think of askin' him to do that after what he's been through?!"
"We don't have a choice, son. She has all of our scents now, and she ain't gonna resurface unless she senses Dean on the shore. We won't be far though, and as soon as we've got a clear shot, we're takin' it. With any luck, she won't get anywhere near him this time."
Sam sank down in his seat and turned his gaze out the passenger side window. Basically, he was sulking. "Not good enough. I won't let him do it. There's gotta be another way." Think, Sam! Think!
"Finish your breakfast, Sam. We'll be back at the motel in about five minutes."
**********
"Okay, let me get this straight… You want me to seduce a seductress? I mean, I'm good and all, dad, but I don't know if I'm that good," Dean stated incredulously after hearing his father's basic plan of attack.
"Not so much seduce as let yourself be put under her spell again. We already know she is … interested in you, Dean." Dean scoffed at his father's choice of words, knowing the man was trying to tread carefully. "We just need you to distract her long enough for us to take her out."
"And how long will that be?"
"No longer than it has to, I promise you that."
Dean dropped his gaze, scuffing his foot against the old floorboards in thought as he sat on the very edge of his bed to face his father.
"You sure you're up for this, kiddo?" John asked softly, needing to know if his son could handle the task he was appointed. If he couldn't, it could quickly turn into a life or death situation.
Dean glanced back up at his father. "No… but what choice do I have? Please tell me you've got backup plans for every scenario? We can't afford to let her get away again."
"I know, and I'm workin' on it."
Dean nodded, not at all happy with the scenarios going through his head.
John sighed. "Alright, Bobby and Sam should be back any minute now. Why don't you let me change out your bandages, and then you can go get dressed. Breakfast will be here when you're all set."
"Yes, sir."
"Can you get the sweatshirt off, or do you need some help?"
"I got it."
Dean clenched his jaw and only let out a small grunt of pain as his muscles protested the movement, but he managed without any assistance. His hand went instantly to his injured side though, easing the pull of the stitches holding his wound together.
John propped a few pillows behind Dean and told him to sit back against the headboard. Then he retrieved the first aid kit and sat on the bed next to his son's hip. "Your shoulder seems to be healin' just fine," he offered up lamely as a notch for the plus side.
"Yeah, doesn't even hurt. That chick has some seriously long nails though. It's disturbing."
"How about your side? Your ribs ache at all?"
Dean winced when John put pressure along the bruised area surrounding the wound. "I won't be doin' jumpin' jacks anytime soon, but I've had worse. Doesn't feel like anythin's broken." Dean paused, biting his lower lip in thought, before continuing. "Dad?"
"Mhm?" John was carefully peeling the bloodied bandage away from the stitches now.
"Thanks for takin' the shot. I know you were afraid you'd hit me too…"
"I did hit you too." Dean could hear the self-recrimination and guilt in his father's voice.
"It's okay, dad. I asked you to shoot me, remember?" Dean smirked, trying to ease the awkward tension in the room a bit. John checked to make sure his son hadn't pulled any stitches during the night, then began cleaning the injury with an alcohol swab.
Dean hissed at the first contact, then pushed the burning sensation from his mind and focused instead on his father's words.
"I had a clear shot the moment she moved to face Sammy. I should have taken it right then and there, but I hesitated. I was hopin' someone had a better angle for a kill shot. I shouldn't have second guessed it. The bullet wouldn't have been anywhere near you otherwise."
"Hey, I'm just grateful as hell you didn't shoot through my shoulder. Cause that would've sucked. Big time."
"Maybe, but if I had, she'd probably be dead right now and you wouldn't have had to suffer as much in her hands." John blushed and looked apologetic when he realized what he had just said.
Dean chuckled, trying to act like it didn't phase him. "Ah, the hands… You know, all things considered, she wasn't the worst I've ever had."
"And that's the end of that conversation," John quickly cut in, but he couldn't keep a small smirk from crossing his own lips. As he carefully pressed a fresh bandage over Dean's side and taped it in place, they heard the coded knock on the door announcing the return of the others.
"All set, Dean. Go change up. Yell if you need anythin'."
Dean nodded, grabbed some fresh clothes from his duffle, and headed into the bathroom.
Bobby entered first with the bags of food followed closely by a fuming Sam. John recognized the look immediately. "You told him, didn't you?" he asked accusingly, turning his gaze back to Bobby.
"More like he guessed…"
"Where's Dean?" Sam demanded, eyes scanning the room methodically.
"He's in the bathroom, gettin' ready."
"You can't let him do this, dad! She'll destroy him!"
"We've already talked it over and he's agreed. End of discussion, Sam. Don't make this any harder than it has to be. Bobby, you and I need to talk in the kitchen. Wait here, Sammy."
Sam crossed his arms and sat heavily on Dean's bed, waiting for his brother to get out of the bathroom so he could tell him how stupid this idea was going to be. There just had to be another way…
Bobby followed John into the kitchen area and Sam could hear them conversing in whispered tones. He knew they were working out the backup plans in case something went wrong, like if she dragged Dean into the depths of the water again and didn't let him go this time… The thought alone sent shivers up Sam's spine.
He saw his brother's jacket lying on the ground where he had left it the night before. He grabbed it and pulled it on, desperate to make the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach go away. There was that comforting smell again; leather, gun oil, and something unique to his brother… Dean. It smelled like Dean.
Then it hit Sam like a punch. He knew exactly what he needed to do. He just hoped to hell it would work. He stood up, grabbed his gun from his bag, tiptoed to the front door, eased it open, and slipped out silently, shutting the door behind him.
Dean stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later, dressed and almost mentally prepared for what he'd have to do. He heard his father and Bobby talking in the kitchen and made his way to the room's entrance.
"How's the plotting coming along?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
"Slowly, but we're gettin' there," Bobby grumbled back, trying to sound reassuring. "How you feelin', kid?"
Like I'm standin' at the gates of hell, and instead of walkin' away, we're bargin' through the freakin' front door… "'m good."
"Sure you are…" Bobby sounded skeptical.
Dean quickly changed the subject. "Hey, dad?"
"Yeah, buddy?"
"What if I can't break her spell this time around?"
"Don't worry about that. You will. But in the off chance that you might not, you've got me and Bobby as backup. She's not gonna get you again, understand? I won't let that happen."
"Yeah, I know. Thanks."
"You ready to go?" John asked, watching his son carefully to gauge his true feelings, regardless of how the boy replied.
"Just gotta grab my jacket…" Dean peered back around the corner and into the bedroom, eyes scanning for said article. He couldn't find it. "Any idea where it ended up?" he questioned, glancing back at the men in the kitchen.
"Sammy was wearing it last," John informed him. "I think he left it beside the bed."
"It's not there. Uh, guys…? Where is Sammy?"
John quirked an eyebrow. "What are you talkin' about? He's sittin' on the bed."
"No… No, he's not."
All three of them put two and two together and they didn't like what it added up to.
"Damn it!" John barked as he and Bobby stood abruptly, gathering the weapons they had been planning to use when ready. "I'm gonna kill that kid…"
Bobby looked at the man gravely. "Not if Sarina gets to him first."
TBC
Please review! If you have any requests for the Winchester's second round with Sarina, just let me know and I'll see what I can do! Plenty more angst and action to come.
