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: Not too much to warn about his week. There might be some swearing, and one mention directly of Sam's abuse in passing as a memory. Nothing too graphic though.


Shadows

By infinite shadow

Chapter 12

Once Bobby had the kids settled he'd gone into check on John fully expecting the man to be working on cleaning his wound. He was, all be it sluggishly. John was struggling to stay awake enough to keep the gauze on the wound let alone focus on what needed to happen next. It wasn't surprising after all his body and mind and been through.

"Give you a hand?" Bobby offered as he took the cloth and set to work not waiting for an answer.

John looked at him for a minute before looking down to the floor. "How'd we get here?"

Bobby worked on the wound debating his answer. "What's the last thing you remember?"

John frowned. "Everything's kinda fuzzy."

"It'll come back," he assured his friend.

"My boys…," John said softly and frowned deeply.

"They'll be ok," Bobby replied and focused on working on the wound.

"Dean shot me?" John said looking up with complete confusion on his face.

"A lot has happened," he responded knowing that John would remember soon enough in his nightmares. He already knew the wound really was a graze, a flesh wound in the easiest of terms. Another inch and Dean would have missed completely. He figured John went down from surprise, shock and exhaustion more than anything else as he finished taping gauze over it.

"But my son… Dean… He... Hee shhot me," John slurred struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Yes he did," Bobby replied. "Lie down and get some rest. I've got the boys. Nothing you can do until you've healed up some."

"Bobby," John tried to argue even as he did as he was told. "My boys… You've got to tell me…"

"No. Look I'm not keeping anything from you. You're just too exhausted to take it all in. Get some rest. We'll talk when you wake up," Bobby said. He did a quick cursory exam to make sure the other wounds hadn't reopened. A few reapplied bandages later and he pulled the comforter up over his friend and left the room.

He went into the kitchen and brewed a fresh pot of coffee. He felt dirty, gritty and bone weary tired, always did after an exorcism or a blood ritual. Bobby had a coffee, allowed a quick shower and a change of clothes before he headed outside. After everything that happened he needed to put a temporary fix in place.

He hurried into his workshop and pulled out a few items. Then he jogged to the each corner of his junkyard and buried the amulets effectively putting up a slight barrier against evil. It was the best he could do to temporarily protect the yard until he could get the place protected properly with the right wards and proper consecration rituals with the right person.

Fearing he'd taken too long with having left the boys protected with Shadow he hurried back into the house. Shadow was a great protector, but she was just a dog and they had their limitations. He had no doubt she'd protect those boys to her last breath, and even though he was positive John was back to normal, he just didn't feel comfortable with leavin the boys on their own for too long. He felt a small smile creep onto his face knowing what Dean would say if he knew Bobby felt that way.

He stepped just inside the room and found the boys still asleep. Dean was on his back with his head turned in his brother's direction. Sam's arm curled over his brother's stomach. When Dean frowned, shifted slightly and put his arm over his brother's arm as he sighed softly Bobby backed out of the room to let them sleep.

Wearily he settled down on the couch. He believed that the exorcism on John had worked and that the items placed around the yard would temporarily offer some protection there was one more thing that was needed. He reached over, picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"It's Singer. Gotta problem at the yard. I had to do a salt and burn then an exorcism in the last twenty four hours. Need a consecration done and new proper wards put down. Got temporary measures in place but it's tenuous at best."

"Sounds like you've had a rough go and there's probably a lot more to that story than what you're telling me, especially if you're asking for help. You need me there right now? Need about a half hour but I can get the lay minister in to cover on Sunday then I can be on the road," Jim said.

Bobby let out a puff of breath. "Got the kids here."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. "Well they finally arrived did they? How is Dean doing?"

Bobby pursed his lips and shook his head.

"Bobby? Are they hurt? What happened?" The man on the other end of the phone pressed. When he didn't get a response his voice gentled. "How bad?"

"Jesus Jim. Worse than I've ever seen them. Bad enough that anything you could offer up from your end wouldn't be turned down," he answered.

"You want me to pray for them?" Jim asked softly unable to keep the astonishment from his voice.

Bobby could hear the shocked surprise in the pastor's voice. They had an unspoken understanding about God and had for years. Bobby had voluntarily stepped into the void without religion, believed enough in the words he used for exorcism, but that was as far as it went. Because as far as he was concerned there was no redemption for him, what he'd done to his wife was unforgivable, no matter how forgiving Jim had professed his God to be. "Yeah," he said as his voice closed up over the word. It was hard, but he could ask for the boys he almost thought of as his own, he could ask for his friend, but he could never, ever ask for himself.

"Ok," Jim said.

Bobby nodded even though the preacher couldn't see him. His gut churned uncomfortably as he heard the other man moving around in the background. "When can you get here?"

"I'm packing now," Jim replied.

"Uh no. Might be best to hold off for just a bit," Bobby said then ran his hand over his head in frustration. This whole thing had him twisted up six ways from Sunday and he wasn't even sure what he was asking for anymore.

"What? I thought you said…"

"Yeah well it's not that I wouldn't say no to getting the place back to being safe, but Dean's shut down and about as touchy as a powder keg in a lightning storm. Sammy's withdrawn as well and holdin on to Dean like his life depends on it. And John," Bobby paused and took a breath. "Well he's not exactly been himself. Give me a few days to sort em all out. Anyone else shows up and Dean might head for the hills and take Sammy with him. If he'd been capable he would have when I brought in a doctor friend of mine."

"He runs Bobby and we may never find them," Pastor Jim cautioned. "He's been trained how to run and hide by you and John. Boy knows how to cover his tracks well."

"Says you. Boys can't hide from me. I can find them anywhere," Bobby answered. "They've been through so much already though if they run now … Aw hell Jim those boys can't take anymore. Neither can John. I can get them sorted out. I'll need your help with the yard, but give me time with the Winchesters."

"If you're sure," Jim said hesitantly.

"Yeah," Bobby said.

"All right. Anything changes better or worse I expect a call," Jim said. "I'm going to pack anyway and can be on the road quickly if anything changes."

"Appreciate it," Bobby said. "Is that boy of yours around?"

"No but I can get in touch with him," Jim answered.

"Gotta job for him. Pick up and delivery only. That's it. He's not to do anything else Jim. Make it clear before you give him any further details. He watches his back, front and sides. I mean it. Morgan will not hesitate to double cross him."

"We both know Caleb can handle himself or you wouldn't want him doing this job."

"Yeah," Bobby said as he glanced out the window and fished a crinkly yellowed paper out of his shirt pocket. It really was the only reason he trusted him with doing the delivery in the first place. Kid was good, better than Morgan, but only if he watched his back and was careful. He looked down at the weathered and worn piece of yellowed paper. "Just so we're clear Jim if this goes south in any way, Morgan's life is nothing to sweat over."

"Bobby what is this about?"

"The man needs a relic from the sixteen hundreds, I know where it is, but the same man also nearly killed me a few years back. Caleb doesn't take any chances is all, is that clear?" Bobby demanded. "You make that simple fact clear to your son you got that Jim?"

"Yes Bobby I understand and I will make sure Caleb understands as well," Jim said.

"Ok," Bobby said then took a calming breath. "Ok. Here's where I need him to go."

After hanging up the hunter just sat in the quiet room for a moment. He'd call Caleb in a few days. If that boy wasn't in one piece he'd skin him alive.

With his call completed he went back into the kitchen and refilled his coffee. He leaned back against the kitchen cub boards and rested a palm against the counter top. It was quiet, calm. He almost snorted in disbelief as it was usually anything but that when the Winchesters came to stay. This time had been no different.

He frowned heavily and paused with the coffee mug half way up to his mouth. Maybe he should just check on those boys again. An odd feeling made his skin tingle as he thunked his coffee mug down on the counter and sent him heading down the hallway and back to check on the kids. His heart skipped a beat as he found the room completely empty. He breathed easier a second later when he saw the duffel's on the floor. It still didn't mean much. If Dean decided they had to make a run for it kid could make do with the clothes on his back.

He went into the living room intending on starting the search there and stopped. He could hear voices just outside on the porch. The window in the living room was open just enough for the voices to carry into the house. Not loud enough to know what they were saying, but loud enough to know both boys were there. Taking a second Bobby reminded himself it was one of Dean's favoured places to be with Shadow while staying here.

He got up and moved outside. The boys weren't immediately visible and for a moment he thought they'd gone. Then he heard a high pitched whine that was distinctly a Shadow yawn coming from the side of the house and he headed in that direction.

The boys were sitting with their backs against the wall, legs stretched out; Shadow nestled happily in between them. Both boys had one hand buried in Shadows soft fur. Sammy had his other hand wrapped around a mug. Bobby didn't need to see it to know it had hot chocolate in it. Dean's mug, which no doubt held coffee, sat next to his hip and his hand rested over something.

"Best think twice before you aim that gun at me boy," Bobby groused as he stormed up to them.

"Not for you," Dean admitted softly.

"Right," Bobby said. He was trying to understand the boy's anger, his need to protect his little brother. But the kid was unsteady, his emotions running so high he would crack under the slightest amounts of pressure. He feared the one person Dean wanted to protect so bad would be the one to pay the price. He knew he needed to step in before anything like that happened.

Both boys refused to look at the man, just continued to stare out at the piles of junk at the side of the house through the slats of the railing.

"Dean," Bobby said trying to get his attention.

"G'way Bobby," Dean said, his tone a final dismissal.

That was the end of Singer's patience. He grabbed Dean by the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet.

Dean gasped as pain radiated from his back into his extremities, his ankle burned where the break had been and little shots of pain danced up his arm where the blood poisoning had been. For a second his mind flashed him back to the house where he was being beaten.

Dean was being roughly yanked out of his bed and shoved into two other guys. He was twisted around forcefully as two sets of hands clamped over his biceps like manacles.

"Hey!" Sam shouted and tried to get to his brother but was shoved back by Bobby. He hit the siding on the house hard making his back even sorer than it was.

Dean blinked several times in succession as Sammy's voice broke the flashback and he tried to pull Bobby's hands off him.

Bobby glared at him ignoring Dean's quiet protests and his hands weakly pulling at his iron clad grip on the t-shirt. "Stay here, understood?"

"No!" Sam said not moving from where he was.

Dean was shaking as he tried to fight off Bobby's hold. With a quiet sigh he dropped his hands giving in knowing he wouldn't get out of this. "Subsisto Servo Sam Shadow."

"N-no. Dean?" Sam said clearly confused even as the dog sat down next to him with a whine.

Bobby didn't let go partly holding up and partly dragging the teen with him to his workshop. He knew Dean wasn't happy but given his injuries and his exhaustion he had chosen to wait until he was given a fighting chance. He was relieved that the kid trusted him enough for that.

The salvage yard man opened the door and gently shoved Dean towards the workbench as he slammed the door closed behind him. He took a moment while looking at the door to take a breath before turning to look at the kid.

Dean was beyond pale. He was shaking slightly and was holding onto the bench for balance.

"You know if you wanted to talk you coulda just said so. You didn't have to man handle me in here Bobby," Dean said lightly in total opposite to the storm of emotions in his eyes.

"Somehow I didn't think having this conversation with Sammy was a good idea," Bobby shot back holding his temper in place. "Getting you away from him right now isn't the easiest thing now is it?"

Dean couldn't deny that and shrugged lightly not looking away.

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Sam looked in the direction that his brother had been taken. He jumped as the workshop door slammed shut.

Shadow whined, stood up and pressed herself against him.

Sam frowned and tried to take a step in that direction but didn't get far.

Shadow leaned against him once more pushing him back against the siding. She looked up at him growling then whined softly.

The youngest boy sighed and thought carefully about the words his brother had spoken before Bobby had pulled him away. "Damn it Dean," he said softly. Dean had ordered Shadow to protect and keep him here. He was stuck until Dean returned and lifted the command.

He sat down on the porch deck annoyed about being stuck but grateful that he wasn't totally alone. He petted Shadow and knew he was protected. Even with the dog here he hoped Dean got back before his father came outside.

He reached over and picked up the gun his big brother had left behind when he'd been taken away by Uncle Bobby. His hand shook as he looked down at the cold steel in his hands. He knew without a doubt he wouldn't be able to shoot his father, but hopefully he could bluff long enough for help to arrive if it came to that.

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After several minutes of staring each other down Bobby finally broke the silence. "You finally gonna talk to me or what?"

"Or what," Dean said.

"Wrong answer kid. You're not getting out of here until you do. I don't think I should have to remind you Sammy's waiting on you," Bobby said.

Dean scowled at him.

Bobby sighed. "Fine. Maybe I should start for you then," he suggested.

Slowly Dean shook his head back and forth his eyes never leaving Bobby's.

"Why don't we start with the bang up job you've done with your little brother of late," Bobby said the words tasting bitter as they fell from his mouth. His heart rate stated to pick up slightly. Lord he really didn't want to do this.

"Don't," Dean warned softly.

"Never, in all the time that I've known you, have you ever let Sammy get hurt. Never have you ignored him so blatantly," he said.

"Shut up," Dean whispered paling at the words.

"I saw the marks," Bobby said and the words were enough to make him feel sick. But he'd seen something in the dark forest when he'd gotten to the boys first. After they'd fallen, after Dean had lunged for Sammy and the ledge had given way. Sammy's shirt had been torn on something and at the time he hadn't thought about it, aside from thinking it had been from the fall, but it had bothered him. It was after, when everything had settled down and he'd read the journal that he'd figured it out.

"Stop," he said barely audible.

"You had to have heard something. So you just ignored it, then?" Bobby asked. Oh God he wasn't strong enough to do this. He was going to be sick.

"Shut up Bobby!" Dean yelled still pale but his eyes lighting with fire. He pushed away from the bench.

Good kid. Come on and get angry. Do it faster. "Or you didn't think it mattered?"

Dean was breathing heavy, fury clear on his face. His chin and lip trembled as he tried to form words. "Of course it matters. What the hell is wrong with you?" He demanded taking two unsteady steps forward.

"Does it?" Bobby countered.

"Yes!" Dean shouted.

"Did it matter when they left you in that house?" Bobby demanded and had to swallow heavily to keep the burning bile from making an appearance. God kid, take a shot. Do something.

"You son of a bitch! That had nothing to do with Sammy!" Dean yelled clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides.

"Sure it did. He didn't stay," Bobby said calmly. "He didn't fight to stay with you."

Dean stepped forward. "He didn't have a choice," he growled.

There was very little space between them now, just enough for a punch to be thrown. "Left you there."

"I WAS FINE!"

"To die," Bobby said quietly.

Dean lunged forward with a howl of rage, swinging as hard as he could at Bobby's jaw.

Bobby easily avoided the punch, grabbed his fist, used it to swing the boy around and held him against his chest. He locked Dean's arms across his own chest and held him tight as he struggled to get away.

"Let me go!" Dean yelled as he struggled vainly.

"No," Bobby said calmly.

"I hate you," Dean spat out as he stopped struggling.

"I know."

"I want him dead," Dean ground out as he started shaking badly and tears tripped over his cheeks.

"No you don't," Bobby said.

"He hurt Sam," Dean said as his fought for breath.

"Not him. A demon."

"I let it happen."

"No you didn't. If you had known you would have stopped it."

"I shot him," Dean said in a shaky voice. "I shot Dad."

"Yeah you did."

"H-he left me to die," he said the words barely whispered.

"Dean…"

"I'm expendable."

"Dean," Bobby said as he loosened his grip and turned the boy to face him. He held the teen's shoulders tightly and hadn't been ready for the broken pained expression in the youth's eyes.

"He left me to die like I didn't matter."

"You matter Dean," Bobby said strongly fighting back his tears. "Don't ever forget that son."

Dean's shaking increased and a sob escaped his throat. His head bowed, his chin hit his chest. Bobby pulled him against him as tightly as he dared and hoped it would be enough.

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Sam drank down to the dregs of his hot chocolate. He pushed the mug aside and looked at Shadow. He petted her gently; aware of her wounds from the various fights around the yard in the last few hours or days. Things had run into one big blur and he wasn't sure what had only happened yesterday as opposed to two to three days ago. It was confusing to say the least.

Quite frankly he was feeling a little lost. Dean had pretty much been his constant solid thing throughout his life until now, until dad got possessed. He'd figured that out on his own, sure he'd tried to tell him, but aside from um Dean have you noticed anything funny about dad lately, he'd really not pushed it. What was the point? Dean had stopped listening to him anyway.

He'd wanted someone to talk to, anyone would have done, but it wasn't like he could walk up to a school councilor and say my dad's possessed and something's wrong with my big brother. Can you help with that?

Ok he'd considered it. Seriously considered it especially that morning when he'd been dragged into the councilor's office for falling asleep in class three days running. It wasn't his fault really. Socials was boring, he knew it all anyway from two schools previous and the teacher spoke in a monotone. Half the class fell asleep.

He'd even thought about how it could go.

Sure I'd like to talk how I'm feeling. You see my dad? He's a hunter. Oh no not deer or anything like that. He hunts monsters. You know – Wendigos, black dogs, the monster under the bed, things like that. He salts and burns old bones so spirits that are haunting homes and stuff get put to rest. And my big brother? Well he got hurt a while ago. Bad hurt. I thought he was going to die, but he didn't. Now he's really mad all the time and acts like I don't even exist. But don't worry about it. We'll be gone in two days and onto the next job so you don't even have to write this down. I'll be gone before you can ever figure out what my real name is or what to do with me.

Yeah like that would go over well.

"Sammy?"

The boy's head whipped up and saw his father standing there. He was pale, his hair tussled from sleep. His eyes were red and puffy as if he had been crying.

Sam's eyes widened in surprise, his heart thumped painfully in his chest once before he looked away just as quick.

Shadow growled next to him.

"Y-yeah?" He said not able to keep the tremor out of his voice.

John's face took on a look of sad realization. "It's true then. It wasn't just a nightmare. I hurt you."

Sam brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "It wasn't you. I knew… know that," he said softly.

John stepped back and leaned on the railing. He looked over the salvage yard. Everything was still fuzzy but he could remember the nightmare, the sound of leather on skin, his son's cries of pain, of him trying desperately to get control of his body to stop. It was a nightmare of being locked inside himself and not being able to stop from hurting his youngest child. He rubbed a hand over his face. "Sammy…"

"It wasn't you, ok?" Sammy said strongly even though he felt sick. He took a shaky breath. "I-I know that."

"You do?" John asked. He wanted to comfort his son, but he knew he couldn't go anywhere near him. Even this was far too close.

"Well yeah," Sam replied his eyes darting to the side of the house as far as he could see but he couldn't find what he was looking for. "It was so not you. The way you did things was wrong. The way you talked was wrong. All of it was just … wrong."

John sighed heavily. The softly spoken words brought a small amount of relief, but his boy couldn't even look at him. Which probably explained why Dean had shot him and he was probably lucky he wasn't dead. If his nightmare was anything to go by he was lucky his oldest son hadn't killed him.

"I'm sorry it took so long to fix it. And I'm even sorrier but please don't be right here," Sam whispered as his body began to shake and a tear slipped down his cheek. He desperately wanted Dean, why was Uncle Bobby taking so long?

John looked down at the porch deck. He couldn't leave. He had to find a way to fix this. There had to be a way to come back from this somehow.

"Don't leave but please don't be right here. Dad, p-please?" Sam whispered before tucked his legs up even tighter against his small frame.

It took a moment for John to realize what his baby boy was asking. Sam didn't want to be alone with him but he didn't want him gone. "Ok Sam," he said softly. He felt a slight relief that his son didn't want to shut him out completely, but it hurt him to know he was seen as a threat. Slowly he turned and went back into the house.