I hope everyone is having as lovely a week as I am, snowed in, college is closed and all my family is stuck at home, it's weird to have them in the house at once because most times I have off its just me and Cookie bear, but it's really nice. This week is lasting so long and I'm not complaining on bit, this week is awesome! PS. The snow comes to my knees, never in my life have we had it like this, best winter EVER!

Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V

Pray that something picks me up (and sets me down in your warm arms)

Dean limped along the side walk, sobs coming from him every few minutes, the hunt was over and so was he. He was done, this was the last straw. He couldn't go home, he wasn't safe there, not safe enough to protect himself, or Sam and Mary. The demon was dead, yet he hadn't felt more weak and vulnerable than he felt right now. Not even when he cut or the few seconds before the sweet release.

He couldn't go to Steve, he'd done too much, seen too much. He was grateful to have such a man in his life, the uncle he'd never had, but coming to him like this would send the man straight to Mary, and he couldn't do that to Sam, not after all he promised years ago.

He had one person left, one person that he could depend on to keep him safe, even if it was just his presence, it would be something.

It was dark in the building, some staff were engrossed in unseen tasks at the ward entrance desk, most were nowhere to be seen. All lights were dimmed, so no one would catch the mud he was coated in or the blood and bruises.

Finally finding the room, he slowly turned the door handle and pushed. John was asleep, that was okay, he needed rest.

Dean made his way around the bed, he watched John's face for a few seconds before easing himself onto one of the hospital chairs by his side. Pulling it and himself closer, he stared a little more, detachedly noting that John actually looked a little better, with less equipment blipping and beeping, when he was startled by a wet drop hitting his hand. He hadn't realised a steady stream of tears were flowing down his cheeks until he felt the painful sob in the back of his throat. Laying his head on the sleeping mans shoulder, he let himself cry freely. God what had he done?

A warm hand came around and settled on the back of his head.

"Hey wha-" John gasped in shock at the added weight on his already heavy chest.

Dean moved away, but didn't lift his head, the darkness shielded the blood and the damaged expression he was currently wearing.

"Dean?" This wasn't a question of who was in the room, John would recognise those square stiff shoulders and short cropped hair anywhere. Nor was this a question of why he was there, he didn't care about that. This was a need to know what had Dean so freaked, he was sitting by his bedside, head hung low, shaking, and... whimpering?

John frowned, his heart beating a little faster, the monitor attached to him bleeping a little more often.

"Son, what's going on?"

That just about did it, and Dean allowed himself to be selfish once again and soak up the fatherly concern coming from John. He lifted his head to reveal a swollen, bleeding, lost and shattered face.

"Holy shit!"

He flinched at John's reaction and twisted his hand around his other arm, the one covered in the cuts he'd made over the last month, splitting the newer ones that had barely developed scabs, causing more pain, more of what he deserved.

"Where the hell have you been?" Not a question this time, this was a demand, filled with anger and disappointment.

Dean's face crumbled thoroughly, he let his scarred arm go and his head went back down to meet John's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I couldn't... he just... please, I'm sorry."

John clammed up, he'd never seen Dean in any state like this before, sure he'd been pissed, he'd been upset, he'd been lost. The days where he thought about his parents and the days he was forced to confront what his uncle had put him through, shit, those were bad days. But nothing compared to what was in front of John right now, Dean had never been this... broken, devastated shell of a young boy begging for forgiveness.

Not having a clue what was going on, John just settled for comfort, when he had Dean calmed down, then he'd work on the 'what the hells'.

"Ssshh, sssshh, it's okay Ace, it's okay, I gotcha, sshh." He managed to find the strength to push himself up into a sitting position so he could wrap his arms around the beaten boy before. John tugged Dean closer and managed to shuffle up enough so his boy could sit on the edge of the bed. "It's alright, it's alright, sshh, slow down Dean, it's okay. Just slow it down, everything's gonna be okay, I'll make it okay, sshh."

Dean was vibrating, losing his breaths to whimpers, salty tears running into his cuts, nose running mixing with blood. John had his arms full with a babbling sobbing snotty son who was making no sense. Tightening his hold as the tremors grew; he tucked Dean's head under his chin and could feel his own tears drip down onto his son's hair.

"'m'so sorry, I didn't mean to I'm s-s-or-" a hiccup, a choke, whatever it was, it cut Dean off and lead to more tears.

"Sshh, you don't have to be, you don't kiddo." Please lord I hope he doesn't. "Just tell me where you've been."

Dean pulled back, but didn't wipe his face, not the tears, not the blood.

"I went- and he... I didn't know... I thought... blood and... dead and I just... but I didn't... please."

Okay, clearly not yet calm enough to get more than a few words out, and definitely not settled enough to make any kind of sense. Good work John.

"Sshhh, okay, we'll talk about it later, it's okay, nothing can get you here, it's alright."

"I-I tried, but... the blood and he... I couldn't... I couldn't h-help it, m'sorry, m'so sorry please don't hate me please."

"Ssshh, I don't hate you, it's okay Dean."

"P-please."

"I know, it's okay. I gotcha son, I'm here, sshh sshh, I'm here."

"It's dead."

"What? What's dead Dean?"

"The blood, it's all... dirty, I'm dirt-y, I h-have to-"

Dean abruptly stood from John's arms and started to pace, scrubbing at the dried red substance on his hands. John always was amazed by Dean's ability to even stand with the injuries he had endured over the years, never mind pace, but he didn't missed the fact the kid walked like he'd been on a three day bender.

"It's dirty... I have to get clean... it's all gonna need cleaning, all of it... it's no good. It needs throwing out... I can't..."

Getting a jolt of whatever had gone through Dean, John managed to get up from his bed too and make his way over to the babbling boy without losing any vision or running out of breath. He stopped the constant swaying, and careful yet fast footsteps, by placing both his hands on Dean's shoulders and drawing him close.

"Sshh, Dean, it's fine, we'll clean it later okay? Just relax."

"It's dirty."

"It's fine," John replied simply, his tone marking the end of the discussion.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright."

"But I-"

"It's fine Dean, I'll take care of it."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Dean nodded, then sniffled as he buried his face in John's neck, closing his eyes, knees finally giving out, his consciousness not long in following.

John could hardly believe that he was in the middle of a state-of-the-art hospital, with all the medications and expertise that anybody could ever want, and he wished that he was elsewhere – just him and Dean so that he could look after him and give him the care he needed that no medical facility could possibly give him. His own wheezing brought him back to reality, but John stiffened himself to give Dean the care and time he needed before he had to face whatever went on and it's consequences. Ignoring his own shaky arms, he lifted Dean's limp form, pulled him to the bed and managed to haul him up onto it. With nothing but the few supplies he found in his room, he cleaned his son's battered face up the best he could, only turning slightly green once when he straightened out Dean's slightly crocked nose, he thanked the lord above when his boy didn't stir once. Most of the injuries looked superficial, flesh wounds for the most part. He had a voice nagging at him to not take any chances, but another part of him was screaming 'Dean is broken enough, strange freaks stitching him back together, prodding poking at him, in a cold stale room all alone isn't going to help matters.'

As he stared down at the once again crumpled boy, John found himself torn, he had about a million things to do, no option about any of them.

He had to call Mary, she had to be freaking out, so would Sam, they had to have noticed Dean wasn't in bed, it was half four in the morning for goodness sake and Mary always checked on the boys, even Angus now before she went to bed herself. Yeah, they knew he was missing.

He had to call Steve, he owed his friend a heads up on some new danger in the town, natural or super, Steve needed to know.

He had to get himself out of this damn hole, patched up or not, no way he was sending Dean home like this and not be there for him, for the rest of his family, his patience with being the man down had officially worn out. Weakling Johnny Winchester was closing up shop.

And finally- he had to tear apart and kill the son of a bitch that had done this to his boy, before doing it all again, and several more times if necessary. And if it was already dead, he'd burn the suckers dead body then march into Hell's mouth and destroy it again.

While John's mind was determined, his body still had other ideas and exhaustion, a lovely side effect of his sickness, was making a reappearance. Carefully settling himself on the very edge of the small bed, wrapping a protective arm around his boy, he too fell into a deep sleep, his son wrapped safely in his arms.

SPN

Waking to a bright light shining through the room, John hissed and pulled his arm up to cover his eyes, memory flooding back when his arm didn't move - something, or rather someone, was laying on top of it- Dean. He had curled up in the night, protecting himself however he could and had cocooned himself under John's hold. Despite everything, the black bruises, the massive swell that was Dean's face, and the traces of blood and dirt he hadn't cleaned, John smiled.

"J-John?"

He frowned, twisting his head around as best he could without moving the one next to him.

"Mare? What are you doing here?" Wiping clear his bleary eyes, he focussed on the pale face of his wife, telling by how tense she was sitting that she was upset - damn she was close to hysterical.

"A nurse ah... found you two in the middle of the night, she saw Dean... the state of him, and called security who called the police... and when they heard the name Winchester, they called Steve who, uh, called us."

Us? John felt an ice pick in his heart when he saw Sam, sleeping with his head on Dean's arm at the other side of the bed.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because you're still sick, and I couldn't wake Dean, I didn't know... Sammy wouldn't stop crying, god he was so... he was yelling and you two still didn't wake up. You must have needed the rest." She was trying to be light hearted, she tried to smile past the tears down her face, she couldn't even fool herself though, let alone her husband.

With every tear, John had another sharp ice pick to add to his collection.

"What happened?" it was her turn for the questions.

"I honestly... I don't have a freakin' clue, I woke up and there he was, crying and all messed up. I tried to get him to talk but he couldn't get a word out that made any sense. He finally passed out and I cleaned him up and I guess I must've passed out too... damn it."

"There's two officers outside, been on guard duty all night, Steve's orders... but he said when he wakes up... they need to talk to Dean, he says he can keep the questions away until Dean's ready."

"Ready for what?"

At that moment, a doctor barged into the room followed by a very pissed off Officer, Brian Milo, Steve's right hand man, the one you went to if the big boss was unavailable.

"Hey, you haven't been cleared to come in. If you don't get out of this room right now I will arrest you on damn ignorance alone." He had the attitude of Steve as well.

"I understand your concerns with the case but my concern is with my patient."

"What case?"

"Johnny you're awake."

"Well, aren't we the observant one today," he snapped before going serious. "What case? What about when Dean's ready? What the hell is going on?"

"D-dad?" Sam was now awake, John felt the dizziness up a notch, and it was nothing to do with him being ill.

John turned to his youngest and almost gasped at the same darkness he had seen in Dean last night. "Sammy, you alright kiddo?" Primary concern in the room- his boys.

Sam shook his head and looked to Dean who was still out for the count - at least that was one less thing to handle for just a bit longer.

"Your temp is within normal range again, has been since yesterday, are you still experiencing shortness of breath? Pain in your chest?" The officious doctor bustled about totally oblivious to the glares he was getting from all corners.

"No, and no, now piss off, in case you haven't noticed we're a little busy, I don't give a flying fuck about my shortness of breath, just-" John ripped out his IV and stood from the bed as gently as he could. "Sammy, you alright with Dean here for a few minutes?"

Sam nodded and climbed onto the bed, taking his space. Usually he'd bitch about wanting to be included in the adult conversations, but today, he just didn't care, he had nothing left to take anything else in. He just wanted to sit and protect his brother for as long as he could.

John waved the doctor from the room and the second officer outside escorted him further down the hall when Brian gave him the nod.

"Okay, somebody please explain to me what the fuck is going on?" John demanded now they were alone in the hall way.

Mary was the one to speak first, "They found some... some bodies, Dean's bike near the... the scene. They think he... that h-he killed the man, the one that's been taking kids, either that or Dean was helping him and... God I just don't know how everything got so bad. I don't know what we've done... what he's done to deserve all this."

John wrapped his arms around her and pleaded for Brian to fill in the blanks and tell him the rest.

"We got a call in the middle of the night, someone found an abandoned bike on the side of the road, they went to check it out, see if anyone was hurt nearby, then they found a guy pinned to a tree, and a kid... close by, his stomach slashed up into ribbons. We called Steve, got to the scene, more dead bodies were found and when he saw the bike... let's just say there's not many pimped out in Led Zeppelin and AC/DC. Then the hospital called our station, who called Steve and... you know the rest. Look man, I'm really sorry about all of this but we really need to talk to your son, get his name cleared, before we move on with the case any further."

"Can we at least wait for him to wake up and get the story out of him first before you drag him to the station and interrogate him?"

Brian nodded, and let them go when they heard a commotion in the room behind them.

"Come on honey," John and Mary went back into the room to find the bed empty.

It seemed Dean was awake, vomiting into the toilet by the sounds of it with Sam behind him, promising things would be okay.

Making their way into the small cramped bathroom, Mary and John decided on keeping back, giving their boys some space while they could have it.

"It's alright Dean, I promise. You don't have to be upset. It's okay big brother, it's okay."

TBC...

Screw the chapter reviews, just tell me you guys are as happy as I am! If not, I'm always here to cheer you up! X