hello everyone. thank you for all the great reviews. i'm glad the last chapter delivered, it was a large portion of what the entire series was based on. i know i said there would be two more chapter, but this chapter fought me all the way. i think i re-wrote it about 4 times and i'm still a little iffy on it, but i need to get it up. so after this chapter there will be two more. lol.

the next story in the series is in the works, but my schedule will be completely filled the next couple weeks, so after i finish this story off i will take a break and hopefully have some things ready come october. :) enjoy.

ON THE TURNING AWAY

Chapter 14

Dean sat in the middle of the bed, staring unblinkingly at the door. Dad had been gone a long time. It was normal now, but Dean still couldn't fight the fear that had taken hold of his heart. They had brought Sammy to a hospital in Montana after they left the Harrisons' house, and the teen had been there ever since. Dean had tried to stay with his little brother, had told each and every doctor his brother needed him, but hospital policy won out. Despite Dean's fake ID stating he was eighteen, he had still been ordered out of the ICU. Dean's episode later that same day when they'd decided to take Sammy for a walk in the garden hadn't helped his cause.

Everything in him told Dean to hot-wire a car and drive himself back to the hospital, but that would mean going outside. The parking lot of their lackluster motel was paved, but there was a long dirt path separating that safe haven from his door. Dean had been researching the hunt with Kerri like they always had, he knew how Yakshas operated. They preferred to take their prey in solitude, keeping to the shadowed paths of the world. He guessed it had take Sam at the Harrisons' house as a show of power, and Dean had no idea where it was now.

Dean could still hear his little brother's screams, could still feel his fingertips as he was drug beneath the earth— it made the teenager sick. Every time he thought about that afternoon he threw up. And every time the phone rang that same nausea assaulted him again. The first night in the hospital Dean dreamt it had attacked, watching helplessly as his father was pulled underground, his dark eyes staring at Dean as the life left them. He'd woken up screaming, covered in sweat, grabbing onto his Dad for dear life when he came to check on him. He left like a baby, but he couldn't get away from the fear.

The dreams came over and over again with each passing night, so Dean decided sleeping was no longer an option. Dad had been staying at the hospital as long as possible, coming home to check on him late at night. And Sammy, he just wasn't Sammy anymore. Dean asked each time John came home if there was any change, but all he was ever met with was a tired sigh. Sam was technically awake, his vitals good, he just wasn't there anymore. The boy's eyes were open but there wasn't anything there— no spark, no recognition, no Sammy.

Dean jumped when the phone rang, his heart rate rising as he pushed himself back against the headboard. Dad had left his cell phone, but Dean refused to answer it. The last time Dean had seen the girls Kerri was standing out in the middle of the yard, alone, perfect prey for the Yaksha. Dean shook his head, fighting away the rising fear. The girls had a habit of walking their large property alone when they wanted to think, and if the Yaksha hadn't followed him, then it was probably picking off the Harrisons one at a time.

Dean wanted to answer the phone, wanted to reach out and make sure his nightmares weren't real, but the fear that gripped him was too much. He didn't know what he would do if Tom told him Kerri had been pulled beneath the earth— Dean knew what Yakshas did to their victims. He had to believe the girls were fine, had to believe it no matter what the truth really was.

His green eyes drifted back to the door, a shotgun and holy water laying on the bed beside him. If he was the demon he would take the kids. He would let Sammy go, let them all feel as if they were safe, then he would pick them off, one at a time. He would wait until they were alone, wait until no one would know what happened to them. They would all be lost to the darkness, vanished without a trace. And Tom and John would suffer. Yes, if Dean was the Yaksha, that would be his game plan.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his frayed nerves. He swore he heard a tapping on the door, swore he could see the knob shaking, turning. He pulled the gun and holy water closer to him, closing his eyes as he tried to calm down. He looked over at the phone again, but he refused to call his father. One, Sammy needed Dad more than he did, and two, if the demon was setting a trap for Dad, Dean would never be able to forgive himself. Instead the teen just stared at the door, his mind lost to turmoil.

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John sat in the hard plastic chair, his head in his hands. The psych ward, they wanted to move his kid into the psych ward. Sammy was sick, he wasn't crazy. They had managed to get Sam breathing again at Tom's house, but when he'd picked up his son to leave, Tom Harrison had the nerve to tell him to leave Sam behind. Tom told him he couldn't look after the boy properly, that he would be traumatized by the event, that he needed to stay home. But home was on the road with his father and brother— Valley and the Harrisons were not Sam's home.

John had driven at break neck speed to get to Billings, Montana where he had checked Sam into the first hospital he could find. He told them the young boy was buried under a mound of dirt while he and his brother had tried to build a fort. Dean had tried to protest, telling the doctors he would never do that to Sammy, but John pushed him aside— telling the doctors his son was attacked by a demon wouldn't work.

The doctors immediately took Sam away, running countless tests on him, each one coming back negative. Amazingly enough, the Yaksha's attack had left no lasting physical damage on his son— emotional, that was another story. The hunter still didn't know why the demon had stopped its attack. Yakshas normally pulled their prey beneath the earth, often consuming them before they were fully dead. The mere thought of it made John sick. But there were no marks on Sammy, no bites, no blood— hell, there wasn't even lasting damage from his time without oxygen. That all left John with one question the doctors couldn't fully answer, why was Sammy not Sammy anymore.

They called it a type of acute stress reaction, just his body's way of dealing with the fear of the entire situation. Three different doctors told him it wasn't permanent, that once he came to grips with the fear he would come out of the daze. John wanted to punch each one of them in the face. Sammy was on a feeding tube, his large brown eyes open, but vacant, staring off into space. It was like he was no longer with them, like his body was there but his soul was somewhere else. There was no spark of life, no recognition, it was just a body.

After the diagnosis John asked when his boy would be allowed to go home— and that's when he was kicked in the gut. He was told the boy needed evaluation, and a family history needed to be taken. He was given pamphlet after pamphlet about the disorder, about how it could be caused by stress building over the years, possibly stemming from a traumatic childhood. John knew exactly where the doctors were going, and he knew they were beyond wrong. Sammy had a trying childhood because he was a hunter, not because of abuse. But John managed to reign his temper.

After five days, however, his youngest son had still not woken. The doctors were getting concerned, and John was beside himself. They said it normally wore off after hours, two days at the most, but Sam was still unresponsive. John knew exactly what Sammy needed, and it wasn't medicine or a psych consult, he needed his brother. He had tried to bring the older boy out on the third day, but Dean had a full blown panic attack, passing out in his arms.

John knew both his boys needed help, but he also knew the hospital wouldn't be able to offer it. They needed family, needed to be together, they could take care of each other. That lead the hunter to this moment. It was late and staff was small on the ICU floor. John knew he would only have a few minutes to get the boy out. Sammy wasn't attached to any kind of heart monitor, but John knew the nurses and doctors on shift would realize the boy was gone sooner rather than later.

John gently removed the IVs and feeding tube from his young son. He took a deep breath, checking the hall one more time before wrapping the blankets around the boy and lifting him into his arms. Sam didn't react at all. John gripped his boy tighter, moving out into the darkened and quiet hallway. He had studied the layout of the hospital over the last two days, and he knew once he left the floor he would have a safe trip to the parking garage. He had left the Impala by the stairwell entrance, and just as John had suspected, he was able to drive away from the hospital undetected with Sammy in tow.

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The drive back to the motel was quiet. John had kept Sam in the front seat with him, his arm around the twelve year old as the boy's head rested on his thigh. He was sleeping silently, his breathing even, no change at all from the hospital. When Sam's eyes were open his breathing changed slightly, growing quicker— it was the only sign they had that Sammy was still in there somewhere. John sighed, pulling into a small minimart on his way back to the motel. They needed a few supplies.

He parked close to the 24 hour store, but well away from the other cars in the lot. The last thing he needed was someone looking in the car and seeing the teen by himself. Sure Sam was twelve years old, but he was incredibly small for his age, making him look more like a nine year old. John hoped the kid would grow someday, if not he was going to be at the butt end of Dean's jokes for the rest of his life.

The hunter's mind drifted to his kids as he walked around the store. For years he reprimanded his boys about their constant prank war, and now all he wanted was for the traumatized teens to get back under each other's skin. He just wanted to hear Sam's voice again, wanted to look at Dean and not see fear in his eyes. He just wanted normal again. His eyes drifted over a bag of marshmallows sitting on one of the shelves. He could almost hear Dean's voice on that long ago summer night, recounting the harrowing tale of how he hunted down smores. A sad smile broke out across the hunter's face— it was a moment they would never experience again.

His heart clenched when he thought about the children. The first night they had come to the motel John thought about calling the Harrisons. He wanted to make sure the girls were ok, wanted to know if the demon had left Sam to take either Kerri or Evelyn instead. The last he'd seen them Evelyn was on the bottom porch step and Kerri was standing in the middle of the yard, completely unprotected. Dean had been frantic. He wanted to check on them, wanted to make sure they were safe in the house, safe in their second floor rooms. As much as John agreed with his son, though, his heart told him not to make the call. Kerri and Dean were close, too close, and John was afraid his oldest son's fears were justified. If Kerri had been taken by the Yaksha Dean would be gone forever— John knew that without a doubt. Besides, Dean wasn't the only person who cared for the girls.

John had to cut the Harrisons out of their lives completely, for his boys' sakes. He would tell them the girls were fine, tell them he spoke to them. He would get Dean and Sam to focus on other things, hunting and school. He would sever the bond Dean and Sam had with Kerri and Evelyn. He knew it was harsh, knew he would break not only his boys' hearts but his own, but it had to be done.

He paid for his purchases, his mind made up. They needed to start with a clean state, needed to erase the past-- for his boys. John's heart sank a little when he made his way back to the car. He had thought that maybe being in the Impala would wake his son, that something familiar would bring Sam out of his self imposed prison— but he had been wrong. Sam was still laying on his side on the front seat, his eyes now open, but still unseeing.

John drove back to the motel, his tired eyes begging for sleep. He cut the engine, staring at the door to their room for a moment before climbing out of the car. He had chosen this motel because the rooms were more like little cabins, each one set about ten feet away from another. The one they'd been given was hidden, set back off the main parking lot. For a hunter, it was perfect, especially when you had one son with constant panic attacks and another who was basically unconscious.

"Hey, Dean." John sighed, kicking the door closed and moving to his eldest son. Dean was sitting on the bed, his body rigid, eyes locked on the door even though it had long since closed. It was almost like he was waiting for something.

"Dean?" John laid Sam down beside Dean, his attention moving to the blonde. He gripped both the boy's shoulders, shaking him gently, trying to get his attention. "Dean, snap out of it."

"It's here," Dean breathed, his voice quiet, his eyes still locked on the door. "I can hear it, it's at the door."

"Dean, listen to me. There's nothing here but you, me and Sammy." John hoped the mention of his brother's name would bring Dean out of the growing panic attack but it didn't make any difference. Dean's breathing was growing faster, sweat building on his brow.

"Dean, buddy, don't do this to me." John pleaded, grabbing Dean's face and turning it so their eyes met.

"Dad?" Dean asked, his eyes unfocused. Dean looked surprised to see him. The panic was back in a flash, though, the young boy's eyes snapping back to the front door. "You're ok, just breathe. Take deep breaths."

"It's here."

"No, Dean, it isn't." John explained calmly, rubbing Dean's back as he pulled his son close. "I've checked everywhere, there's nothing here."

"Where'd it go?" It was the same question Dean had asked him two nights ago. Ever since the Yaksha's attack Dean believed it was just beyond the door, waiting for them, and John didn't know how to get him over the fear. It was a good question, but one John couldn't dwell on now.

"Away, Dean, I've been outside. It's ok." John prayed his words were true. None of them knew what had become of the demon. John knew if he had solid proof the thing was dead his sons would recover faster. Having to constantly look over their shoulders would grate on their already damaged nerves.

"You thought it was gone before and it got Sam. How do you really know?"

Dean's words cut John to the core. He was silent for a few minutes, knowing he didn't have a good answer to give the sixteen year old. Dean had been so full of life a week before, full of trouble, of 'piss and vinegar' as Elsa would have said. But the Dean sitting in front of him now was just a shell of the boy he'd left in Valley all those months ago.

John pulled the pills the doctor had prescribed from the drawer. The man had wanted to examine Dean after his outburst at the hospital, but John insisted the boy was fine. He wouldn't be able to explain both children in the hospital suffering from shock.

"Why don't you get some rest, kiddo." John smiled weakly, turning to Dean and handing him two of the pills. It was the only way he could get the teen to sleep. Sam's reaction to the attack was extreme, but John knew Dean was suffering from post traumatic stress as well. He needed to get them both somewhere familiar and safe, and he needed to do it sooner rather then later.

John watched as Dean finally drifted off to sleep. The moment the boy's green eyes slid closed, though, John lost control. He felt hot tears burn his cheeks as a wave of both fear and pain raced through his body. He ran his hand through Sam's mop of hair, listened as both boys breathed slowly, lost to sleep. He was terrified.

John's mind drifted to the earth demon's whereabouts again. The first time the demon had remained in Maine, the second it had followed him home and set a trap for his children, and lord only knew what it was currently doing. Maybe Dean was right, maybe it was waiting outside the door, waiting to take both his boys away forever.

John pushed himself off the bed, going out to the car and bringing in the groceries. He pulled a bottle of Jack Daniels from one of the bags and took a long drink. He needed help. He'd already called Bobby, the resident mechanic and demon expert. His old friend offered the battered family a place to stay, hell he even knew a doctor willing to make house calls. Only one more hurtle stood in their way— getting Dean outside the motel. Ever since he'd brought his oldest son into the room the boy had refused to leave.

John had contemplated moving the teen while he slept, but the nightmares made that impossible. The smallest change had Dean awake in seconds, panic stricken. The only way John could move him was to get the boy past his fear. But that was easier said than done. The hunter pulled one of the wrapped sandwiches from the bag, ripping it open. He looked over to his sleeping boys as he ate. Dean had barely touched food, and when he did eat he threw it up again a few minutes later. And Sam had been on a feeding tube and IV fluids at the hospital. John was reasonably sure he could get the teen to drink a little, but eating was out of the question. They had to break him of his state soon.

John sighed, throwing down the sandwich and taking another draught of whisky before grabbing his phone. He was losing his boys, even while they laid sleeping a few feet away.

"Yeah?"

"Bobby?" John sighed.

"Johnny? Did you get the hospital to release him yet?"

"In a matter of speaking."

"Damnit, John. You know they're gonna be on your ass."

"They don't know where we're staying."

"Yeah? But they know about Dean, it won't take a rocket scientist to track you down. When are you getting on the road?"

"I don't know. Every time I try to get Dean out the door he has a panic attack."

"Still?"

"He thinks the demon's outside the door."

"John, this is more than I can handle."

"He doesn't trust me, Bobby. I didn't know the Yaksha followed me back to Tom's house. Now Dean thinks it followed me here without me knowing."

"Did it?"

"God, Bobby, I don't know. What if it did? What if I walk out the door with them and it attacks?"

"Have you called Tom?"

"No. He's been calling me, though."

"Maybe he knows what happened to it. Some sign around his house or something."

"What if it killed the girls? Bobby, I don't know what I'd do if he told me that thing killed the girls. They're like my own—."

"I'll call him, Johnny. I'll look into it."

"I can't believe I let this happen." John whispered into the phone, the past few days coming down on him like a landslide. He couldn't handle reality as it rained down on him, beating him, breaking him.

"Pull yourself together, Johnny. I'm heading out of here now, where are you holed up?"

"Billings, Montana."

"Alright, you're not that far. I'll be there in about ten hours. I'll call Tom, too, figure out what's going on there."

"Bobby. I don't wanna know about the girls. Just see if he knows what happened to the Yaksha, but no girls."

"What if they're fine?"

"Just. It's easier— I just don't wanna know about the girls."

"Ok, John, nothing about the girls."

John closed his phone, resting his head in his hands. If the girls were hurt or dead, it would destroy him, but if they were alive he knew someday his boys would want to return to them. It had to be a clean break, their past had to be kept in the past. The Yaksha's attack showed John just how vulnerable they all were, how much they had all let their guards down over the years. If his boys were going to survive, they needed to forget about Kerri and Evelyn Harrison.

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True to his word Bobby showed up at their motel a little over ten hours later. John had drifted off to sleep once or twice, but his mind was plagued by nightmares. He saw Sam's hair buried under the ground, heard Dean and Evelyn's gut wrenching cries. It was all too much, the images forcing him awake after only an hour or so of sleep. He needed to get control of himself, needed to be strong for the boys. Dean was falling apart and John knew if he couldn't be strong his eldest son would be lost forever.

"Bobby." John began tiredly, pulling open the door.

"Tom hasn't seen any signs of the Yaksha, alive or dead." Bobby stated, stepping into the room. "I don't think its here either, Johnny."

"Why would it just up and vanish in the middle of an attack?"

"I don't know. Maybe your ritual weakened it and it tired after attacking Sam, or maybe one of the girls—."

"Nothing about the girls." John stopped the other hunter.

Bobby let out a frustrated sigh but followed John's lead just the same. "I've got a million theories, but I just don't know, John."

"So we just take the boys outside and hope for the best?"

"You can't keep them holed up in here forever."

"Why not?" John asked, though he already knew the answer.

"One, it's a seedy motel and you stole one son from the hospital— someone's gonna come asking questions sooner or later. And two, they're not living if they're hidden away forever. They're just gonna wither away."

"I don't know if I can keep them safe."

"You just have to do the best you can. Let me help you."

"Thanks, Bobby."

"No problem, John. You got a reason to stay here, or do you wanna head out?"

"I think we should head out."

"You ok to drive?" Bobby asked, eying the bottle of whiskey on the table.

"I'm fine."

"Just checking. You want me to grab Sam while you get Dean?"

"No!" John jumped to his feet. He didn't want Sam with anyone but himself. If the demon was planning an attack, it would have to take them both.

"Alright, alright. I'll go check outside." Bobby shook his head. He grabbed the few bags the small family had, mumbling something under his breath as he went out to the cars.

John could feel his heart beating faster as he looked out the open motel room door. It was dark, the middle of the night, and the seasoned hunter searched the shadows for any signs of evil. John let out a slow breath, grateful the motel had a paved parking lot. The only obstacle was the long dirt path between the room and the car. Even if the demon couldn't rise above pavement, its grotesquely long arms could reach them if they tried to run.

He turned his attention from the open door when Dean began to stir. There was a stiff breeze blowing through the door, storms were forecast for the area. John made his way to Dean's side quickly, not wanting the teen to have another panic attack.

"Hey, sport." John said quietly, running a hand through Dean's short hair.

"Dad?" Dean asked groggily, his green eyes trying to focus on his father. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, Dean, I'm fine."

"No." Dean pushed against his father's restraining hand, trying to sit up. "I saw it. I saw it here."

"There's nothing here, Dean, you're safe."

"I saw it." Dean's voice was scratchy, weak. "I saw it."

"Johnny?" Bobby came back in the door, John turning to make eye contact with him. "Cars are packed."

John nodded, turning back to Dean. "Ready to go, slugger?"

"Go?"

"We're going to Bobby's." John answered, pulling Dean up to sit.

"What? No, we can't go out there." Dean began, waking up a bit more. His eyes were wide, locked on the darkness beyond their motel room door. "Dad?"

"Dean, it's safe. Both Bobby and I have been out there."

"You and Tom were, too. We can't go Dad, please." It was then Dean looked down and noticed his sleeping brother for the first time. "Sammy? Dad?"

"Dean," John breathed, staring into his son's horror filled green eyes. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to hide his boys away, to keep them safe forever. But they couldn't run from fear. "It's going to be ok. I got Sammy here fine and now we're going to Bobby's. Everything is going to be ok."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Do you trust me?" John asked, bracing himself for the answer. He wasn't sure how much faith his son still had in him.

"Yes." Dean answered quietly, looking over to Sam. "Yes, I trust you."

"Ok. Believe me, Dean, when I say I won't let anything get your brother ever again."

Dean just nodded, his eyes still locked on his brother. John took that as quiet acceptance. He stood, walking around the bed to get Sam. The younger boy was limp in his arms, still wrapped in the hospital blanket, his small body offering no resistance as John lifted him. He didn't sigh, didn't turn his head, didn't tense a muscle. He just laid there, asleep. John felt a heavy weight settle in his heart— he wasn't sure Sam would ever be the same, if his youngest son would come back from whatever secret world he'd locked himself in.

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Dean stood in the doorway of the motel, staring at the night. He was rooted to the spot. His Dad and Bobby had already gone ahead, taking Sammy with them. Nothing happened, but the fear still wouldn't leave Dean's heart. Maybe the demon was waiting for him? He'd been the one to dig Sam up, the one to take his brother back from the Yaksha— maybe it was plotting revenge against him. The teen felt his heart rate increase as he stared out at the inky darkness all around him. He looked over at the ground when he heard a noise, he could have sworn the dirt moved.

"Dean?" Dean jumped, turning to see his father standing right in front of him. "It's fine."

He looked at his dad, his heart beat slowing just a little, his breathing coming easier. He trusted his dad, and he always would. Dean closed his eyes, taking a step onto the loose dirt in front of him. He was expecting an attack, expecting the spidery arms to come up and grab his ankles, pulling him into the earth— but nothing happened. Instead the night remained still, quiet. There were no demons, just his small family.

His dad just nodded before leading him to the car. He slid into the backseat with his brother, resting Sam's head on his thigh before wrapping an arm around the younger boy. It was good to have his little brother back with him. There might not be any demons after them tonight, but that didn't mean they weren't still out there. He tightened his grip on Sam when the Impala pulled forward, its engine growling as it charged toward the highway. They were heading to Bobby's, but to Dean nowhere on earth would be safe. How did you hide from the ground you stood on?

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John glanced back at his sleeping sons every few miles. Dean had drifted off three hours into the drive, Sam— he hadn't moved a muscle. John rubbed his tired eyes, taking another long draught of coffee. This wasn't the way life was supposed to be. The Harrison's home had always been safe, always been a haven in the darkness, but now that had all changed. Their lives had been shattered, and John knew he would have to rebuild them from scratch. They had been going to Tom's house for ten years, it was all his boys knew. And John knew that would now be gone forever.