Hey, folks!

I'm sorry for being late with this update. I'm also sorry, that this one isn't beta'd either.

And it's kinda short.

THANK YOU for your reviews! I'm sorry that I wasn't able to answer them the last time.

Fields Of Jasmine

Chapter 21 ~ John Winchester

Slowly but surely, Dean Winchester surfaced from the darkness. Within the first few moments of consciousness, he didn't know where he was or how he gotten onto the hard cold ground.

He felt the low throbbing in his skull like a sledgehammer. He felt his aching hand and arm from where it had been wrenched behind his back.

"Sammy.", he croaked out, blinking his eyes open once, before slamming them shut again. "Shit." He tilted his head to the side and rolled it, trying to ease the throbbing a bit. Well, it didn't work.

He heard a muffled noise from close by and pried his eyes open again. First his vision was quite blurry and unfocused, but within seconds, his gaze focused on a pair of boots.

The muffled noises increased.

The alpha squinted up and followed the boots and legs with his gaze until it reached a very familiar face.

"Caleb?", he ground out through gritted teeth.

The man was gagged and tied to a chair. Bobby's coworker had a bad gash on his forehead, which was still bleeding a bit. Frantic eyes were darting from Dean to the open door of the garage and back at him. The man was yelling through his gag, trying to tell the alpha something.

Dean groaned as he pushed himself up on all fours and winced when his hip stung and his knee protested against the movement. The ex hunter coursed under his breath again, as he eventually managed to get onto his feet. He stumbled over towards Caleb and pulled the gag from his mouth.

The man swallowed dryly.

"GO.", Caleb croaked out too. "The omega."

Dean's eyes narrowed. A moment later his gaze darted through the room, searching for a sharp object. He grabbed the first thing he could find, what were actually pliers and cut the cables through with which Caleb was bound by his wrists. Dean dropped the pliers into the mans lap.

"Go, get Bobby and Ellen. And Jim if he's still there. Tell them we've a visitor." He sniffed as he pulled away.

Caleb managed a nod, before Dean was gone and on his way to the office, where he hoped to find Bobby's gun. Lucky him, there truly was one. An old revolver. Loaded.

"Yahtzee" Dean grinned mischievously. Whoever had entered the Salvage without premison was screwed. So screwed.

Dean limped a couple of yards, before he took off into a jog, which morphed into a run. The air outside was crispy and tickling his exposed skin. The sun was still down at this time of a year, but dawn was about to break over the land.

His only thought was Sam. Whoever it was, whatever he wanted … There were a lot of things that guy could take, but not Sam. Not the omega. Not what was actually his.

He'd do a damn to let – whoever this was – come close to his man.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins, letting the blood roar in his ears.

Dean had to make it back to the cabin. The knowledge that Sam might was in danger, spurring him on. He'd need at least fifteen minutes to get back. Way too long for his liking.

As soon as the cabin was in sight, he started to slow down into a jog, the revolver's barrel gleaming in the faint light of the half-moon.

What happened next could only be described as flat-out terrifying and shocking.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks. So did his breath. His eyes went wide and a sharp pang of hurt flashed through his chest at the very familiar sound of a gun being fired. There was a flash of light in the room which was his bedroom. THEIR bedroom.

The room in which Sam was supposed to sleep safely and peacefully.

"No no no no no ...", he breathed.

His mind ordered his limbs to move. But they didn't.

They just wouldn't obey him.

"Sammy." The ex hunter's face paled, his hand started to shake. "No. No, dammit.", he ground out through gritted teeth. Not believing what he had just witnessed. What this high likely meant.

Finally – eventually – Dean managed to get his wobbly legs going. He made them move, holding the revolver in a death-grip.

Whoever – whatever – was in there would pay. Dearly.

If Sam had as much as a scratch on him, it'd suffer. Not after what they had been through and after what Sam had endured so far. Not after managing to get the omega out of the cabin and into the diner.

Not now, when everything finally seemed to settle down.

Not now, where they …. No, Dean wouldn't go there. His Sammy was supposed to be fine. He was supposed to be alive. They hadn't gone through all of this just to be ripped apart due his and Bobby's carelessness.

Ever so rude and loud he thumped up the porch and burst through the leaned on front-door, holding the revolver before him and ready to make use of it at any moment. He went further into the cabin, aiming for the bedroom.

Dean saw the silhouette of a tall man standing there, illuminated by the spare light of the bedside lamb. A very familiar frame. One he hadn't thought finding in that postion. The man's shoulders were rising and falling in a frantic pattern. To Sam's bare feet were dirty boot-clad ones twitching.

"Sammy?", he asked in disbelieve, staring at the figure, who stood with the back towards him. Sam. It was Sam.

Just then, the heavy scent of another alpha washed over him. Too familiar. Too much cigarette smoke and whiskey and old spice.

Too much like his fathers.

No, it couldn't be.

This was impossible.

Though the shock, he blinked, and ripped his own thoughts away from what his nose was telling him who this were. He swallowed thickly as he made another step into the room and towards his mate. Only now he saw the twitching muscles in the omega's neck and taut ones of his arm in which's hand he held a handgun.

Dean Winchester swore under his breath. "Son of a bitch."

The gun too seemed familiar.

All silvery, engraved chrome with white inlays.

Just like the one his father had owned and which the werewolf had taken with his father's body, when he had dragged him into the darkness of the woods.

Memories came back into his mind. About the grief and sorrow he had felt as he woke up from the coma in that hospital three months after getting admitted.

Back then the doctors had told him, that his leg may wouldn't work again. That he'd basically be a gimp who'd need to find himself a job in which he wouldn't have to walk all the time. Or lift things …

Well, right now there was Sam, with a gun in his hands, pointing finger on the trigger. There was that man – smelling like his father – on his back on the floor, staring straight into the omega's eyes. He too was panting.

One look past Sam onto the man on the floor and Dean's assumptions got conformed.

"Dad?", his voice high-pitched. In a matter of seconds, his expression turned from shocked and disbelieving into angry and confused.

John Winchester was alive.

His and the older hunter's gazes locked.

"Son.", he said breathlessly, his face contorted in coolness.

Dean reached forward and laid his hand over Sam's. "It's okay, Sammy.", he whispered gently. "Give me the gun."

John's eyes narrowed at his son and the omega curiously, his expression hardening.

But Sam wouldn't let go. He stood there. Staring with wide eyes at the man at his feet. He was pale and breathing frantically. The omega held the gun in a death-grip as if it was that thing keeping him in place not the other way round.

"Sam.", he said again, this time even softer, curling his fingers around Sam's carefully. "Give me the gun."

The omega's gaze flickered towards his mate. His lips were quivering, his hands starting to shake even more. He was blinking at the man below, not daring to leave him out of his gaze.

Eventually, the omega's grip on the gun loosened and Dean was able to take it from him. He blew out a breath he didn't know he was holding and put the revolver into the waistband of his jeans.

The moment, the gun didn't point at the older Winchester anymore, he was about to get up. But Dean stopped him by pointing his own gun back at him, giving him a warning look. "You stay.", he hissed. His free hand sneaking around Sam's waist and coming to a rest on his hip.

The omega swayed. Dean drew him closer, holding him. "It's okay. I've got this.", he said without looking away from his father. "You hurt?" He squeezed Sam's hip gently, letting the omega know that he was talking to him.

Sam didn't respond. He just kept staring at the hunter on the floor, who stared back at him, with an expression that didn't mean any good. John looked slightly disgusted.

"Sammy.", Dean demanded, his voice stable and cool. "You hurt anywhere?" Because, yes, it was that important.

Besides a faint bruise on his yaw and a split bleeding lip, nothing seemed wrong with his mate. But then again … when could he ever be sure about that?

"Dean.", John Winchester spoke up, his voice husky and cold. "Don't."

Dean's growled. Actually growled at his father. If not knowing better, you could say his gaze was soaked in hatred with a hint of deep hurt.

"You shut your mouth.", the younger Winchester ground out through gritted teeth. "No one's talkin' to you right now."

Sam made a small noise and he swayed again, his fingers finding their way into the back of his mate's shirt.

And then everything happened within seconds.

Dean dared to cast his look towards Sam, who was about to slip out under his grasp. John Winchester was arching his back from the ground and jumped into a squat, aiming with his hand for the gun in his son's hand.

If it wouldn't have been for the alpha's fast reflexes, John had gotten a hold of his wrist, but Dean was faster. With a smooth motion – he had to let go of Sam for that – he blocked John and hit him in the head with the butt of the gun, sending him down on the floor and into unconsciousness.

The few seconds it took him to take his father out, Sam had grumbled to the floor, spasming and making choked off sounds as his body seized, his muscles contracting and relaxing as if he'd get electrocuted.

The alpha fell on the floor to his knees and laid the gun aside, to have both of his hands free. He managed to get Sam on his side and hold him like that.

It was dark.

There were stars above him, sparkling like diamonds in the black sky. It was warm and he only wore a tee and jeans and sneakers.

The woods around him seemed calm.

Maybe a bit too calm though.

Sam wondered where he was, how he had gotten here. Last he remembered he was in the cabin with Dean and a stranger his mate had called dad.

That was when he noticed, that he had no control over what his body was doing. He could only watch … Watch how he sneaked through the under-wood and feel how his eyes narrowed at the claw-marks on those trees around him. Sam had no clue what was happening to him. He had no idea where he was going, nor what he was hunting for.

Then there was an agonizing scream echoing through the night.

He heard himself – with his own voice – curse when there was another pain-filled yell.

Then there was silence.

Sam stopped dead in his tracks and his head turned aside into the direction he had been coming from.

Then there was the rustling of leaves and the scent of blood and intestines.

Rustling again.

Only now Sam realized, that he had a knife in one hand and a flare gun in the other one.

There was another sound to his left.

What the hell was that? What was he doing? Where was he going and what kind of thing was out there?

Because he was pretty sure that – whatever was happening right now – wasn't a walk in the park.

It was everything, just not that.

While Sam felt like panicking and wanting nothing more but to run, he could sense his other me that he was about to do the opposite.

Sam wasn't going to run. He was waiting.

Waiting for IT to turn up.

Most of the time wishes and hopes didn't come true, but in this case they would. An ugly creature, faster than anything he'd ever seen, came for him and tackled him to the ground.

He heard himself curse, felt his own lips move as he hit the ground. For a moment, all air was punched out of his lungs and when he attempted to get back up on his feet, the ugly thing appeared above him. All wrinkled skin and spiked ears. Yellow gleaming cat-like eyes boring into him. Sharp claws ripping through his shirt and skin and at that very moment, the thing screamed like fire-sirens. Sam's gaze flickered in between himself and the creature and he saw his knife buried in the thing's chest to the hilt.

A moment later he felt himself pulling the trigger of the fire-lighter and besides the nearly unbearable heat and blinding white light, there was nothing left after another moment.

"Sammy.", Dean gasped, when the younger man went lax in his grasp.

Sam's eyes where half open and he made stuttering breaths. His muscles twitched uncontrollably.

"Talk to me, sunshine.", he murmured, searching Sam's body with his hands. "Sam."

He held the man's face in his hands and tried to catch his gaze through half-lidded eyes. "Please."

But Sam remained incoherent.

The ex hunter cursed and lowered his mate's head back down onto the floor. He hurried up to get to his feet and snatched a pillow from the bed, which he positioned under his mate's head.

Before he could take care of Sam he needed to take care of something else. Someone else.

Right in that moment, his friends burst through the front-door, led by Robert Singer. All of them armed to the teeth with knifes and riffles.

When they came into the room, he heard sharp intakes of air and gasps at what they were seeing.

"John?", Bobby asked in disbelieve. Of course he had thought too, that the man had been dead. Well, until now.

"Mind getting him into your basement? All tied up?", Dean asked over his shoulder without looking up. As far as he was concerned, John had tried to shoot Sam. Well, AND he had knocked Dean out cold before.

So his father had thought he could get through with this. Walking in. Luring Dean away from his house and knocking him out. Shooting Sam. And walking back out without anyone of them knowing who it could've possibly been. May even laying a wrong trail.

That was so John Winchester.

The ruthlessness in it too.

"Is that?", he heard Ellen mutter in pure wonder.

"Just … get him out of here.", Dean ground out.

Obviously that reached out to get the others into motion.

Bobby, Ellen, Caleb and Jim where inside the room in an instant and surrounding John. Caleb kept his riffle up and pointed at the unconscious man. Ellen slipped back out of the room and came back with rope.

Dean hovered over Sam, feeling his pulse every few minutes and trying to rouse him from whatever state he was in.

When John was gone, and it was only him, Sam and Jim left in the house, he decided that he'd better get Sam onto the bed. Jim checked him over and declined that he was sound. That there may be a bruise on his yaw in a couple of hours, but nothing seemed to be broken and that there were no bullet-wounds. He also confirmed, that there didn't were any signs that Sam had gotten a punch to the head either.

The omega was barely awake during Jim checking him over.

It looked like he was fighting to come back to reality. Though it was no use in fighting exhaustion and aura. So Sam drifted into a light slumber.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The Sun was already rising, when the omega first opened his eyes. He'd been out cold for about an hour and a half.

He felt the softness of the bed below him and a strong arm around his waist. He felt the warmth of the comforter and another body behind him. He felt drained and sore and then he remembered what he had hoped to be a real bad dream.

The man.

At that, the omega's eyes flew open and his body was ready to scramble away from the grasp around his waist and the warmth and simply everything that didn't seem to fit for him right at the moment.

At least not after what he had seen in his vision. Or memory. Or whatever this had been.

"Hey, Sammy.", Dean whispered and tightened his hold around his mate. "How're you feeling?" He wouldn't let him pull away. Not physically and most of all not mentally.

Sam blinked and made a small sound of discomfort, as he pushed against Dean's arm.

The alpha urged his mate to turn around and look him in the eyes. He kept the arm under Sam around his lower back and cupped his face in the other one.

"C'mon. Look at me." Dean tilted the omega's head up and made him look back.

Sam locked his gaze with Dean's.

"What did you see?" Yes, the ex hunter felt those fine tendrils which held onto Sam's mind. Spiderwebs and dust-bunnies still fogging the younger man's brain.

"Sammy." The intensiveness of the alpha's look was chilling.

"Wendigo.", Sam's voice broke. "It was a Wendigo." He blinked stunned. He wasn't supposed to know that, right? He wasn't supposed to know how to call this creature. Except …

Dean's eyes widened and his pupils dilated, but before he could say anything, Sam continued: "It ripped into me with its claws. It … it … I did it." Sam blinked again, still surprised about what he'd seen. What he'd felt. And most of all what he felt right now.

Because it was as if he already knew. As if he was supposed to know and somehow the vision started to feel as if it was a memory.

"I killed it, Dean." Sam cast his look down and back up at Dean. "It nearly killed me and I killed it. I felt it. With … with a flare gun. I've lit it up and it burned. It was so hot. It …" The omega's eyes were wild. His pupils blown.

Dean shushed him, pushing his own confusion about what Sam was telling him aside. It wasn't the right time to ask questions anyway. First he needed Sam to calm down. Like later. Much later.

"What happened then?", he asked quietly.

"Everything went black.", Sam croaked out. "I ..." He searched his mate's face. "Was it true? Did this happen?"

Dean swallowed. He wasn't quite sure how to answer that question at first. So he took his time to think about it. Though, it took him a bit longer than any of the both of them liked, before he answered.

"I don't know, Sam.", he whispered. "But we'll figure it out."

Sam gave him a jerky nod. Though, he didn't quite believe him. How was Dean supposed to figure it out, when he himself had no clue how to find out if this had been happening, or if it had only been some bad dream?

They stayed like that for a little while longer. Sam snuggled back up against Dean and Dean held him, kissing his forehead.

… to be continued