Chap. 14

Then:

"Fine, such a worrywart." I smirked trying to lighten the load. I felt I should ask an important question, but for the life of me I couldn't focus or figure it out. At least I was finally mobile. Granted I wore a brace on my ankle and occasionally a sling on my shoulder when Dad forced me to wear it, but I was healing. I was anxious to get moving to do something normal, hunting.

We both hopped into the truck. Once Dad felt I was back in shape he would disappear on me again. But at least for a few days I could feel alive. The wind on my back and the music in my ears grounded me. Spotting our destination in sight gave me a sense of joy I hadn't felt in a very long time. My dad had my back and finally everything was falling into place. Just a simple salt and burn. What could go wrong?

NOW:

Rarely did I ever allow myself to self-indulge in savoring the simple moments of just observing my sons. But for a moment, I did just that. I sat and watched my first-born snooze. At first glance, Dean appeared so peaceful, sort of. I wondered without the aid of the potion, would he look so serene? I rationalized that it was a necessary evil. Otherwise how could I deliberately keep forcing him to drink it even after we had fought?

I had grown accustomed to keeping secrets. At the tender age of four, he didn't need to be burdened with the truth but necessity often interfered with preference. Then Sam left. He walked out and never looked back. In fact, I knew that Dean couldn't handle my suspicions that secretly Sam was happier than he had ever been. I had watched Dean drown and I couldn't reach him. So I did what I thought was in his best interest, I left. Thinking he would bounce back, that he would rise to the challenge, but instead Dean had almost gotten himself killed.

Then held captive by that bitch. Used, and the implications of that entire fiasco still wasn't clear. Dean's rant, demanding answers, was carefully weighed against the devastation. Would it help or would it paralyze him? Do more harm than good…I loved him too much to cripple him.

So entered my dilemma. The final outcome had to justify my actions. Which solution would provide the best option to shield him, to save him? So with a heavy heart, I performed the spell. I never had a problem, manipulating people to get a specific job done. My scheme required Dean without his consent to volunteer himself as the guinea pig. Life just wasn't fair; this whole situation wasn't fair. I hit the table and Dean moaned but by the time the drug wore off, all decisions would be final.

Little did Dean know that the consequences for challenging my authority would require me to erase his memory of the last twenty-four hours but I never hesitated to be the sentinel especially if it concerned my boys. If I had to be cruel to save him, then so be it.

My imagination must have been running wild as I could have sworn my hands trembled a little as I inserted the needle in the crook of his arm to hide my actions. The hex required blood and a small poke was certainly easier to hide than a cut. I plucked out a few of his hairs, he groaned but didn't stir. He couldn't, the potion wouldn't wear off for a few more hours yet.

I almost stopped, feeling the weight of my actions wondering did Dean realize how dangerously close I was to spilling the beans? I had to man up. He was my son, he needed my protection, mostly he needed me to safeguard him from his own curiosity. In this case the truth wouldn't set him free but cripple him for life. Slowly my resolve increased and I performed the spell mixing my own blood and hair into the mix. I didn't allow myself the easy way out; I cut myself as sort of a reprimand for having to harm my own son. Silent tears rolled down my cheek threatening my resolve as I performed the enchantment, but I didn't stop. Then and only then did I allow myself to sit by his bedside keeping vigil. Soon, I could stop giving him the concoction and so would end any real threat of him remembering the past that the spell had erased from his memory. Finally calming down, I just watched him sleep.

Everywhere I looked I couldn't escape the mirror image of Mary. I don't think even Dean knew how difficult it was for me to spend time with him. He was the constant reminder, her eyes and fire. Nostalgia painted a heavy picture of losing - so many missed opportunities I could have spent with my family instead I had squandered valuable minutes believing I had plenty of time left. My torment might be that I hadn't learned my lesson. Instead of spending precious time with my son, I had deserted him.

I understood my son believed I had abandoned him, allowing the bitch to use him in such a fowl way. How could Dean really believe I didn't love him? Had I been such a lousy father that even that no longer rang true? I would make it up to him somehow. I had to. I couldn't contain my need any longer; I gently grabbed his hand and stroked it.

Some nightmare seemed to be consuming him, so I crawled into bed with him, and pulled him into my arms. He settled and once again seemed peaceful. Funny how I could demonstrate my love when he wasn't really aware, but unable to do so when he was awake. I resolved to change that, but wondered would I really be able to do it?

When Dean showed signs of stirring, I got up and carefully situated him so that he wouldn't know I had held him during his sleep. He would be embarrassed and I could at least permit him his dignity. Anxiously I waited for his reaction, nervous but desperately trying to appear as normal as possible. Sometimes I seem cold when in reality I'm doing everything in my disposal to hide my emotions. He moaned and his hand reached for his forehead. I wished the warm cloth on his brow would ease his headache caused by the spell. My next few words would be important to covering up the curse.

"Hey, feel any better?" I held my breath in anticipation of his response.

"No, I guess not, my head feels like its gonna to explode."

"Finally got the fever down son, you've been hallucinating. What do you remember?" I waited to see if he would accept the subliminal message as his new truth.

"I…God, can't remember much of anything with this killer of a headache. How long have I been sick? What happened?"

Carefully I guided him to the bathroom, waited outside of the door while he took care of business and then tucked him back into bed, completing the spell by thrusting a drink into his hand. "Shhh, one answer at a time. Drink this, can't let the fever get out of control again." Sometimes it scared me how easily I could lie to him.

"God, that's bitter. You don't look so good, you need to rest."

"Later, don't worry about me. That one nasty brew isn't it? First rule of medicine; especially one of Bobby's special concoctions. I'm afraid you'll have to grin and bear it for a few more days."

"I can't keep my eyes open…"

I could tell he paused trying to remember but unable to decipher any of the necessary information, for now the spell was working.

"How long?"

"Shh, don't worry about anything, let me handle it. I've got watch…you rest. The best medicine in the world. That's it, sandman's calling you." I carded my fingers through his hair. Once he settled back into dreamland, I put the headphones on and turned on his favorite music knowing it would obscure any conversation he might overhear.

"Bobby, yeah I put the headphones on like you suggested. Yeah it worked, I've bought us some time, the spell will only work for a short time, how many more damn days do we have to keep pumping the damn drug into his system…Fine, the new moon is in four more days. Yeah, act like nothing's happened and hope he doesn't remember…can't imagine why I'm not feeling all that secure right now, Bobby."

"Fine, I know what is at stake…I didn't fix it so Dean wouldn't…Dean's not dying on my watch, you hear me."

Dean surprised me when he whispered the word "Dad." But too many obstacles kept him from waking up, and I lulled him back into oblivion by stroking his brow. Sometimes physical contact worked miracles and I wasn't above using it in desperate times.

"Feel up to a little hunt?"

"Anything would be better than being stuck here."

"It's an easy hunt; nothing challenging, similar to the first few hunts I took you on when you were a young tyke."

"Funny my shoulder feels better than I thought it would, could've sworn it's been longer than a day or two for recovery. I must have really been out of it, I don't even remember coming to this place."

I froze, wondering if the spell was wearing off, but my mouth responded before I could really think. "So you're a fast healer. But you'll be careful. Leave the heavy hitting to me."

"Fine, such a worrywart." He smirked trying to lighten the load. The ankle brace allowed him to be mobile and he finally didn't really need the sling, but I forced it on him when his independent streak threatened to override his common sense. I had to keep demonstrating I was the boss, even if it meant bullying him a little bit.

We both hopped into the truck.

"A simple salt and burn, just what we both need. What could go wrong?"

Kiddo you have no idea, but I kept my mouth shut, hoping against hope that my fears were unjustified. I could easily do the hunt on my own, so if worst came to worst, I would carry him to the truck and finish the hunt. Today I would discover just how much damage the bitch had done to my son. If anything could prove his emotional well being, it would be this hunt. Doubt tugged at my heartstrings, because lately the Winchester luck had been anything but blessed. Mary, if you can hear me…watch out for our boy.

A/N: John seemed a bit talkative. Struggled a bit with this one also, so some feedback would really be helpful...I will say reviews inspire the muse. Posting before I delete the whole chapter.

Hoping I captured John. I believe in a hard ass that loves his boys more than anything and unable to show his feelings. Dean has to have enough good moments to overlook the bad, otherwise he would just rail about how awful his father behaves. Yes he overlooks a lot, too. Next chapter should be action based, but of course that means that my muse will cooperate.

On the headache front, trying out new meds, could be migraine is a misdiagnosis - Hemicrania Continua. It's a 24/7 headache which fits better than migraine. Praying the meds work because I want my life back. For those in constant pain, I do understand...maybe it's why one of my chapters was labeled Grin and bear it.

If you're willing hit that review button, if not, thanks for reading anyway. :)