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Chapter 12

Dean swam back up toward consciousness. Sunlight bathed his face, He kept his eyes shut. God, he felt hungover. The last thing he remembered was Dad putting him to bed and trying to get him to drink some water out of a plastic cup.

"Dad?" He murmured

"Hi Dean." He heard a voice nearby. He opened his eyes to see Bobby sitting beside the bed.

"Hi Bobby." He was confused "What happened?"

"You didn't call me for help, that's what happened." Despite Bobby's irate words his manner was gentle.

"Sorry... I... I thought I could handle it" He said sadly. " And... I..." He stammered Shamefaced. " I thought you'd tell Dad on me. "

"Tell on you? Boy you didn't do anything wrong!" Bobby tried to look him in the eye but Dean looked away as though he didn't hear him.

"Where's Dad?" He asked.

"He's gone to bring your brother home. Mean while I'm supposed to get some food and drink in you and take you home with me."

Dean stiffened. "B... But I can help! I can!" He exclaimed, panicked. "I swear Bobby, you've got to tell him! I'll be good!" His eyes were wide. Bobby didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

"Calm down now. You're exhausted, dehydrated and half starved. All you need to do right now is rest."

"No! " He cried out. "I'm fine Bobby, really, I can easily help find Sam!" Dean tried to get out of bed but Bobby stopped him, pushing him back down against the pillows. Dean struggled to get out of his grip. "Let me go Dammt!"

"What's going on here Dean?" Asked Bobby with concern.

"I...I'm sorry, I have to tell him I'm sorry!"

"For what?"

"Look Bobby I fucked up and lost Sam. I really, really dropped the ball and then I lied to him!"

"Yeah well no wonder..." Bobby said, gently touching the bruise on Dean's cheek. he winced and drew back.

"It's nothing." He muttered.

"Don't look like nothing." Bobby replied, still simmering with rage just looking at the kid's battered face.

"Now...He's leaving. He's going to leave..." Dean said softly.

The penny dropped for Bobby then. Oh my God John you jackass! Why didn't you explain to him?

"Dean, your Dad's not leaving you with me for good! I know he was mad boy but he wasn't that mad! He just wanted me to take care of you since you clearly haven't been taking care of yourself! He's coming back kid! Got it?"

Dean nodded. Bobby hoped Dean believed him.

"And another thing." He said, knowing he had to say it if only for his own conscience. 'It wasn't you're fault Sam took off. And even if it was..." He pointed to Dean's black eye. "That aint 'nothing'." Even if you had seriously fucked up. That don't give anyone the right to rough you up."

Dean didn't reply, just looked at the wall. They sat silently until he finally piped up.

"Was he mad at Sam? He said he was going to beat the tar out of him if he ran off again."

"I'd say he's mad as hell. But don't worry, I don't think he'll go off on the kid."

"Maybe he deserves it." Dean said bitterly. Bobby was surprised. Not that Dean didn't have a right to be angry.

" Deserves it? You really think so?"

"I dunno..." Dean said softly. "Bobby, can we just go?"

Bobby considered it for a minute. On one hand Dean still looked dead on his feet, on the other hand they'd both be a lot safer back in Soux Falls. He decided Dean was right.

"Ok, we'll get the greyhound, I know how you feel about flying. Lets get some food first though."

"Thanks." Dean muttered, starting to pack up.

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John surveyed the security tapes from the gas station. Hours of footage, he fast forwarded through most of it.

"Would you like a coffee detective?" The manager asked, poking his head around the door.

"No, thanks." John replied, engrossed. Then, something caught his eye. He rewound the tape. There he was, a skinny figure, walking past, dragging his feet. He checked the time marker. 6.56

"Gocha!" He exclaimed. As he headed out of the office. He checked the map on the wall. "Next stop Winslow. I'm on the way Sammy, you little..." He didn't finish his thought. Remembering his promise to Bobby that he would keep his cool. Easier said than done. Right now he was ready to strangle the kid.

Winslow's a tiny town, where the Eagle's "Takin' it Easy" plays in every single store on a loop. It sure was pretty though. John's first stop had been the tourist office. A middle aged man was serving behind the counter. John approached him , holding out a recent picture of Sam.

"Excuse me sir. I'm with the FBI. I'm looking for a missing child. Have you seen this boy by any chance? He would have come through town a couple of days ago."

The man squinted at the picture. "Can't say that I have." He said, but Steffie was working this week... STEFFIE!" He yelled over his shoulder. An old lady appeared out of the back room.

"Yeah?" She asked "What's up?"

"You seen this boy Ma'am?" John showed her the picture.

"Oh! Yeah, I have. He came in a couple of days ago with his sister. They were buying postcards. They in some kind of trouble?"

"No, just runaways Ma'am."

"Well they looked pretty happy to me!" the woman continued, "and the girl weren't no runaway, she was at least 20 and had her own van."

"What kind of van?" John asked quickly.

"Dark blue Ford." She replied dismissively. "They parked it right out front. "

John turned to the Man, who watched suspiciously from the counter. "Sir do you happen to have CCTV cameras outside?"

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Dean and Bobby sat in the bar next door to the Totem waiting for the bus. Dean was vacuuming food like he hadn't eaten in a week. Nothing unusual there, thought Bobby. He sipped his beer thoughtfully. He wondered how long it would take Dean to forgive his brother, and If John would keep his word and restrain himself. It wouldn't be easy that was for sure. Bobby knew he was going to have a hard time not clobbering the kid himself.

Ah, but who knew what kind of pain the boy was in when he took off ? He had called for help. Bobby had to give him that. He'd called for help and Bobby had largely dismissed his fears as childish.

"Dean? Did you know Sam called me a a day or two before he ran away?"

Dean looked up, his expression blank. "Yeah, he told me he missed you." He replied curtly.

"No, he called because of the hunt. You see, he was certain that your daddy was running off half cocked, that he was going to get himself, and you, killed. I have to say, after hearing how spectacularly badly John did in Sedona I'm inclined to think he was right."

Dean said nothing. He knew Sam had been worried. Still, no excuse.

"It got me thinking..." Bobby continued, choosing his words carefully. "That maybe he ran out to the bar that night and got in trouble on purpose... On some level"

"Why would he do that?" Dean mumbled, never looking up from his plate.

"Because it would keep you with him at the motel the next day instead of Sedona with your dad."

Dean continued to eat. After a bit he mumbled " Maybe."

Bobby smiled. Yeah, they'd get over it.

There was a sharp noise behind them and Dean looked up , wide eyed, as though he'd been stung. "No way!" He whispered.

"Dean?" Bobby looked in the direction of Dean's horrified stare and saw that the source of the noise was a baby. At a table across the room, by the window, about 6 months old. It was crying with a high pitched intensity, its little cheeks red. It's teenage mother looked tired beyond reason and close to tears.

"Dean? You all right son?" Asked Bobby, worried about what this could signify. Dean ignored him. Getting up from the table and walking over to the girl, who was jogging the kid on her knee. Entreating it to please be quiet.

He sat down beside the girl and spoke to her. He always did have a way with the ladies, and this one was clearly no exception, because she had no problem with him taking the baby out of her arms.

Bobby watched, slack jawed, as Dean cradled the infant in one arm, talking to it. then took an ice cube out of the girls coke and , holding it between his thumb and forefinger, popped it into the babies mouth, dabbing it on it's gums.

Almost instantly the crying ceased. He smiled at the girl and passed the baby back to her. The girl sighed with relief, smiling at Dean with genuine gratitude. She continued to dab the ice cube on the babies gums.

"I'm so in!" Dean grinned as he sat down opposite Bobby again. "Lets hang around a little longer. If we get lucky she might start breast-feeding."

"Nice talk. What the hell did you do to that baby?"

"Ice." Said Dean, shrugging. "For teething. Kids been wailing up a storm in the room next door all week."

"So you hadn't been getting much sleep then?"

"No." Replied Dean. If I'd known it was teething I'd have suggested that days ago. It always worked on..." He trailed off.

"On Sammy." Finished Bobby.

"Yeah. On Sammy." Dean rejoined, with a sad smile.

"You know Dean", Bobby said softly. "John told me what happened in Midway."

Dean paled and for a moment Bobby was sorry he'd bought it up. But it needed to be said.

"Did he?"

"Yeah, he's still pretty cut up about it."

"I imagine he would be." Said Dean, closed off again.

"You want to talk about it, you know I'm here." He said earnestly. Dean looked him in the eyes.

"You know what Bobby? I really don't." he said, then smiled a big smile. "Lets go catch that bus! I'm sick of this place! They paid their bill and left. Dean winked at the young mother on the way out. His smile disappeared as he gave the baby a lingering look.

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It took a full ten days to find him. The entire time he tried to keep tabs on the demon, but the thing seemed to have taken a sabbatical. Maybe separating Sam from his family had been it's plan all along?

The student, Marie, had been the last hurdle. Her friend Fiona had been the one to drive Sam to Flagstaff, and the last place they'd stayed had been her dorm room. She'd been unwilling to tell John anything and getting in her face hadn't exactly helped his case that he wasn't an abusive drunk or a maniac.

Eventually he'd told her a half truth. He'd said that Sam's Mother had died, that he wasn't dealing with it well and everyone was terribly worried about Sam's delicate mental state, which wasn't entirely false either.

She'd given him directions to her father's hunting cabin. He never used it, she said. She'd given Sam a key, thinking it was a lot safer than the streets. John was secretly grateful that the two girls had taken care of the kid. He put up a silent prayer that he hadn't run into anyone less than savoury on the road.

The path into the woods was bumpy with tree roots and overgrown. He eventually had to get out of the car and walk. Good, he thought, it's hidden.

He smiled despite himself when he came upon the shack. It was pretty dilapidated but defiantly a fourteen year old boy's idea of heaven.

The door was open, a golden retriever ran out, barking, it's tail wagging. John reached down and patted it, it had a collar with a tag. Hello my name is Bones. If I'm lost please call (928) 526-5964

"That's one hell of a guard dog Sammy." He whispered. He entered the cabin. Sam was standing inside , the other side of a old wooden table. Shotgun aimed.

"Dad!" He yelped, clearly shocked. He lowered the gun immediately but kept his distance.

"Sammy." Whispered John, taking in sight of his son alive and unharmed, his hair unbrushed, a little skinnier than usual but there in one piece.

"How did you find me?" He asked suspiciously.

"I'm a hunter Kiddo. It's what I do." He took a few steps toward his son. Sam raised the gun again.

"Christo!" He shouted.

John laughed, despite himself. "It's me Sammy. I know being alone in the woods can make you a bit paranoid."

Sam seemed convinced. He put the gun on the table and sat down

"I'm not leaving." He said, looking right at his father. Sam wasn't beng defiant, he was stating a fact.

"Yeah, I'm afraid you are." Said John sitting opposite him.

"You can't make me."

"I think you'll find that I can. But I don't want to make you. I want you to come back to your family."

Sam looked away, ashamed. "Do I have one?" he said quietly.

"What are you talking about? Of course you have! Jesus what kind of number did that Demon do on you?"

"What?" Sam looked genuinely confused.

"Sammy, the thing I was hunting. It was messing with your dreams. It told me so."

Sam was silent for a moment, the he nodded, as though it confirmed something for him. "You're wrong." Sam said. 'It showed me my future."

"And?"

"And I didn't have a family. You and Dean were dead."

"Oh Sammy! You know Demon's lie... We're both fine."

"Then where is he?" Asked Sam nervously, staring at his shoelaces.

"He's at Bobby's. He nearly went crazy trying to find you."

Sam looked away. "He must hate me."

"No Sam, he doesn't hate you. He's mad as hell, and worried out of his mind, but he doesn't hate you. Neither do I."

"So you're both ok now, but one day... One day you won't be. So I'll be alone either way. I'd rather be alone here. I'm happy here." He said decisively.

"You're happy in this shack?"

"Yeah, it's peaceful, I don't have nightmares. I'm not scared all the time. I have the dog for company. That's all I need."

"Sammy we both know that's not true."

"How would you know?" Sam yelled suddenly, getting to his feet. "You don't know what it's like! To be afraid all the time! You're brave! Dean's brave! I'm not! I can't even remember the last time I wasn't afraid before I came here!"

John's heart broke to hear the admission. "The rest of the world won't disappear just 'cause you ignore it Sam!"

Sam cleared his throat, wiping tears out of his eyes with his shirt sleeve "You know, these woods are safe. There aren't too many things that hide in the woods, not really. Deer hunters have used this cabin for years and all they've run into are deer. If you left me here I'd be safer than I would be with you." He said.

"Sammy, that's not true." Do I tell him? he wondered, Tell him what that thing did to him? That he's bound to a demon somehow? No! He decided. He'd protect him from that knowledge at least. "Ok... He corrected himself. It might be true, but... I can't leave you here. I can't do it."

"Why not? I don't get it Dad! I'm useless to you in a hunt, I'm not made for it. I hate the lifestyle! Why can't you just let me go?"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE MY SON!" John yelled, slamming his fist on the table. Sam jumped and backed away from him. Dial it down John, you're not helping yourself. He took a deep breath, calming the fire in his belly. "Because we're family, and if that doesn't count for anything then what have I been doing all these years?"

Sam stood against the back wall, his face white as a sheet.

"Dad." He said softly and steadily as he could. "I love you, and I love Dean. But I can't do what I'm gonna have to do."

"What do you mean Sam? Something in the imaginary future a demon showed you? The future isn't written in stone son!"

"No", Sam agreed. Pacing up and down by the back wall. "But some things are. Like the fact that hunter's die young, almost always. That they usually die fighting something with claws and teeth, and that..." He swallowed thickly, "more often than not, some other hunter has to finish them off!" The last part came out in a rush. He started to cry. John wanted nothing more than to grab him and wrap him in his arms but he knew Sam wouldn't stand for it. "And... And you get so used to it that you think nothing of... Of just..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

"Sammy? Is this about the baby?" John asked. Afraid of the answer, afraid that the demon had been truthful in this instance, and his son mistrusted his judgement that much.

Sam's head snapped up. The couple of times John had referred to the incident it had been to "The hunt", "The other day.", "Midway." Not the heart of the matter. Sam stared at him silently.

"Sammy, That little girl..." Sam flinched. "She would have been dead by the time I got her out to the car I promise you that."

"You don't know that!" Sam hissed at him. "She might have... With surgery and stuff... You never know for sure! We could have... We could have saved her... Maybe..." He finished lamely. John realised then just how young his son was. Still clinging to a childish belief in miracles, to a hope in general that had been beaten out of him long ago.

"Sam sit down, I want to tell you a story." He murmured. Sam cautiously sat down on the floor, as far from the table as he could.

"When I was in Vietnam, I was 19 years old. One of my first experiences on the ground was witnessing the aftermath of a massacre. A whole village of our allies, had been killed." He didn't go into details. "Me and my commanding officer. Sergeant Roth. A man I greatly admired..." He stopped for a second, controlling his emotions. "Were separated from the platoon...H... He went ahead of me into a house. There was a mine buried in the floor. He was injured, bad...Organs exposed bad. I was lying there pissing myself and crying, and when the smoke cleared I...I walked over to him and, he was choking on his own blood, but he could still give orders. He ordered me to shoot him in the head." John stopped, breathing deep, he looked at the floor, out the windows, anywhere but at Sam.

"And you had to do it." Sam said quietly.

John shook his head, unable to stop his tears now. "No Sammy, I didn't. I couldn't bring myself to do it." He looked at his son, both their eyes swimming with tears. "I couldn't pull the trigger, even with him begging me. It took him an hour to die. And I let it happen. I watched that happen, every last second, and I have never been as ashamed of anything in my life."

"Dad..." Sam's voce cracked. He got up and rounded the table. Stood in front of his father.

"So I swore to myself then that I would never , ever let anyone else die in that kind of pain if I could end their suffering. I couldn't let that baby die like that Sam! Even if it would have been just a few more seconds of it."

He hadn't expected Sam's weight and he was nearly knocked off the chair as the kid threw himself into his lap. His skinny arms squeezing him so tight his cracked ribs screamed. But he didn't say anything, didn't move, just squeezed back.