Stooges

I sat on Sam Winchester's abandoned hospital bed, my face in my hands, as I tried to calm down. It was taking me a very long time. Every time I thought I'd succeeded I'd remember something from Larry, Curly and Moe's recount of their spectacular fuck up. Actually, Larry had done most of the talking. I'd left Moe out in the parking garage, where he was still lamenting the loss of his fucking shotgun and Curly was just standing next to Larry looking guilty. No wonder the Winchesters always went for small towns.

"I was speaking English when I said not to go near them until I got here, wasn't I?" My voice sounded much calmer than I felt.

Larry and Curly, the two cops that we'd extricated from the bathroom – cuffed to the toilet with their own damn bracelets – looked at each other and had the good grace to blush. "Y-yes sir," Larry finally stammered out. "I thought older on, the one on the poster that you said was psycho, had put the younger one in here. I thought maybe he'd-"

"You thought? You thought? What? That you'd just ride in on your white horse and the kid would be so happy for a rescue that he'd turn on his brother? Did I tell you to fucking think?" I was screaming at them, and they were lucky that was all I was doing. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I could almost hear by sister harping at me to watch my blood pressure. "Okay. This is what we're gonna do. I want an APB out on them and their car in the surrounding counties and I want their pictures on every news station. Armed and dangerous. We're going on a manhunt, boys, and we're going to canvass every gas station, abandoned building and hotel within a two hundred mile radius."

"They could be a lot further than that," offered Curly, the one who had kept silent so far. I was just relieved that he didn't pull out a horn and honk it. Or was that Harpo? I snorted and shook my head.

"Not with the youngest boy only a few days out of surgery, they're not. The Winchesters might be bat shit crazy, but they take care of each other. That's why they stole all that medication before they left. Now get out of here before I pistol whip you with your own damn guns."

Dean Winchester. It was like trying to chase down the love child of David Berkowitz and fucking Harry Houdini. And now the father had rejoined them. The man who'd made him what he was. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but I had a feeling I would find out soon enough.

"I woke up feeling like my tongue was swollen to twice its size. Probably the pain killers and all the other drugs my father had pumped into me. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was trying to OD me.

"So, you've rejoined the land of the living. I was beginning to think we'd have to find a prince to come kiss you."

I squinted over at Bobby, who was sitting in a chair next to my bed. "Hey, Bobby." I coughed a little, my throat feeling swollen and abused. It felt like my gut was being ripped open. By the time I managed to stop, I was shaking and sweating. Bobby was holding a spoon to my mouth. I opened it and felt a burst of cold in my mouth that quickly became wet. Ice. I sighed gratefully and let Bobby spoon feed me a few more pieces. I figured it was okay as long as Dean and Dad weren't around to see. I finally moved my arm to take the spoon myself and felt a sharp prick. I lifted it up and looked at the inside of my wrist to see that an IV was taped to my arm. Huh. When had that happened?

"You started runnin' a fever. Been out for two days. Scared the hell outta your people. Your Daddy finally passed out a couple of hours ago after the fever broke. Dean followed suit a little while ago. You should see 'em, all snuggled up on the couch droolin' on each other. Got some real cute pictures on my phone. Makes learnin' to use the damn thing worth it."

I laughed, feeling the stitches pull. "Damn it Bobby, don't make me laugh. So, two days?"

"Yeah. Want me to let 'em know you're awake?"

I shook my head, my movements, like my voice, coming slow and thick. I felt weak. "Let 'em sleep. They probably haven't more than a couple hours here and there since Gordon showed up."

"That'd probably be right."

"What about you?"

Bobby frowned down at me. "What about me?"

"You ever sleep?"

He snorted out a laugh. "I keep gettin' that question. I slept plenty while you three geniuses were out addin' to your rap sheets."

"Thanks Bobby."

"You're welcome, Sam. Get some rest. I'll be back in a while to see if you can hold down some broth."

I was asleep almost before he finished his sentence.

I felt warm and drowsy from the broth that Bobby had fed me. I let myself drift, unable to hold on to any train of thought long enough to focus on it. I felt the bed shift and my eyes opened in alarm. I'd almost forgotten where I was, that I was safe, that I wasn't tied to a chair anymore. Dad sat on the edge of the bed looking down at me.

"Hey, son. It's good to see those eyes again."

"Sorry I worried you."

Dad snorted. "I'm always worried. Occupational hazard. Can't be helped."

"How long was I out this time?"

"Just a couple of hours." He pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. "Sleep is your best friend right now, since the fever's broken and you're mending again. We'll still have to finish your course of antibiotics, just to make sure. How ya feelin', bud?"

I cleared my throat. "Like someone cut me open, rearranged everything, sewed me back up and then ran me over with a truck."

Dad quirked an eyebrow at me, his expression half amusement and half sympathy. "That good, huh?"

"You guys still goin' after that cult?"

"Yeah. Don't see much choice."

"I won't be able to go."

"I know. You'll have to stay here and man the fort."

I couldn't' help rolling my eyes. "Dad, I'm not seven."

"No, but you are wounded. You'll be more of a hindrance than a help."

"Yeah."

"You can help your old man with the research, that is if you think you can stay awake long enough."

I snorted. "I think I can manage." I yawned before I could get the whole sentence out and he laughed.

"If you say so." He pulled the covers up around me, and put his hand on my chest. It reminding me of the times when I was little and ha d a cold or the flue. Dad staying home with me and playing nursemaid. All the times I had forgotten about because I was too busy being pissed because he wasn't normal to remember them.

"You know, Bobby or Dad can do this. Hell, I can probably manage it myself."

"'s okay, Sammy." I could barely hear the tension in Dean's voice. Anyone who didn't know him as well as I did wouldn't have heard it at all. It was like the shaking in his usually rock steady hands as he efficiently changed my bandages. Barely there.

"You don't have to push yourself."

He paused briefly to look up at me. "Dude, will you can it?"

I tried. I really did. I sat there damn near biting my tongue in half while he cleaned and redressed my incision before I couldn't take it any longer. "You don't have to prove anything to anybody Dean. I mean, maybe… Maybe if we talk about it…"

"I talk about it enough with Missouri, thanks Sam."

That right there, the clipped way Dean said my name, should have told me to stop. But just like with Dad, I ignored all the warning signs and charged full steam ahead. "It might make things a little easier."

"Easier? Really Sam?"

"I just feel like we need to do something…"

"What the hell do you wanna do Sammy? Put on some pj's and braid each other's hair? Have some sort of big healing moment?"

"I just… There's this huge thing between us now. I want us to be the way we used to be, I want being in a room alone with me not to freak you out, I want you to stop ignoring the fact that it does."

"God, dude!" Dean stood up in a burst of movement, angrily throwing things back into the first aid kit. "This isn't about you or about our relationship! I… I can't help it if my skin crawls every time I'm in the same room with you. I can't help what I remember or when I remember it or what face I see in my nightmares. I can't help that I freeze up sometimes when you get too close. I wish to god I could, but I can't."

"I know, Dean. That's why we have to deal with this."

"Will you let me finish? I can help how I deal with it. If there's an occasional freak out or problem, 's not your fault and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Just the way it is right now. We'll get past this like we did before 'cause you're my brother and I would fucking die for you. That's never gonna change."

"But you never… you never forgave the bastards who raped you."

"They were a bunch of sick fucks who thought they had a right to do whatever the hell they wanted. They weren't you, Sam. They weren't possessed."

"But it was right. I do hurt you sometimes, Dean."

"Yeah. And I embarrass you on purpose. We're brothers, dude. You can't be close to somebody and not inflict pain occasionally. I know half the shit that thing was shoveling was lies, and the other half was so twisted it might as well have been. It just took me a while to get my mind right is all."

"So I'm off the hook? Just like that?"

"You were never on the hook in the first place, Sammy."

"Look, Dean-"

"Jesus, man! Do we really have to do this?"

"I just want to say one thing, and I swear I'll shut up."

Dean sighed. "Fine."

"I know sometimes I'm a jerk to you, but you're my hero. You always have been."

There was silence for a second too long. "Just had to turn this into a chick flick moment didn't you, Samantha?"

"Sorry."

"If you start singing Wind Beneath My Wings, I'm gonna have to kill you."

I laughed as much as my injuries would let me, which wasn't much more then a couple of snorts. "I won't. I think my singing would probably kill us both anyway."

"That would be true. Feel up to tackling the stairs? The old man's going over the final plans for getting inside the cult."

We found Dad downstairs torturing Bobby, who looked uncomfortable in a drab brown robe. "Hey boys."

"I changed his bandages," Dean said as he picked up one of the three open beers on the table and dropped into one of the chairs, all lose limbed and relaxed the way he only ever was when he was in the same room with Dad. "The incision looks better."

"Good. Tell Bobby how adorable he looks in his new outfit."

"Looks like one of those friars from back in the day," Dean offered. "Like in Robin Hood."

"I don't know who's the bigger ijit," Bobby groused as he adjusted the robes, "you for coming up with these damn fool ideas or me for goin' along with ya."

"Oh stop your bitchin'," Dad said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You look adorable." Dean snorted and almost chocked on his beer.

"One more word outta you, Winchester, and I swear I'll shoot you so full o' buckshot you'll set off metal detectors 20 miles away!"

Dad's eyebrows tried to climb into his hairline as he fought a losing battle with laughter. "Fine. No need to get all bitchy on me."

"Why do I have to wear this again?"

Dad shrugged. "You don't. I just wanted to see if I could get you to try it on."

Bobby stared at Dad for a second. "You rotten son of a bitch!"

"It's for Dean, actually. Once he gets into the compound, he's going to put it on so he can wonder around incognito. Most of the people inside will be wearing those."

"How's he supposed to get in," I asked, unease settling in my stomache. heavy and sour.

"New convert. Bobby and I have been setting it up for weeks. They were expecting two, but I think we have a good cover story for there only being one."

"Can't we wait a few months? I should be good to go in two, three tops."

"They cut through your abdominal muscles, Sammy. That's gonna take more than two months to completely heal, and I'm not sending either of you in there at anything less than one hundred percent. It was dicey putting this together, too long a delay could scuttle the whole thing."

"You can't just send Dean in there by himself!

"Dude!" Dean was glaring at me, his expression thunderous as he interrupted. "I'm a grown man. I'm almost thirty for God's sake. I've hunted by myself before. I think I can handle this, thank you very much!"

"That's not the point, Dean! You should have back up!" I turned back to Dad. "He's your goddamn son, Dad! Not some expendable soldier you can just send behind enemy lines with a pat on the back and hope he comes back in one piece!"

I could hear Dean muttering underneath his breath.

"You think Dean's expendable to me? Is that what I just heard you say, son?" Dad was up on his feet, his face red.

I blinked at Dad, and yeah… that's exactly what I'd just said. And what the fuck had happened to me trying not to make him want to put me over his knee? I closed my eyes and willed myself to take a step back, to calm down. "That's what I said, but I know it's not true. I'm sorry. I'm just…" I took a deep breath. "I'm scared, okay?" And why the fuck did it hurt so much to admit that? Yelling was so much easier than this. And I'd always thought that Dean and Dad were the emotionally handicapped ones. Maybe I wasn't much better. "I don't want Dean to go in there by himself because I know that there's a very real possibility that he might not come back and I don't understand why it doesn't seem to bother you at all. One minute, you're this great Dad and the next you're sending him into these dangerous situations? How do you do that?"

Dad's face twitched and he looked away. "You think I want to? You think I wake up in the morning thinking of ways I can endanger my children? I do it because I don't see any choice other than the three of us just killing ourselves and being done with it. If it's any consolation, son? As much as you hate me for it, I hate myself for it even more."

He walked out of the room leaving an uneasy silence behind him.

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get to this. I had an AU that was trying to eat my brain... or at least whatever's left of it.

Thank you enviousxbeauty! I'm glad you liked it.

It's okay, rog457. Dean said that too when his father freaked out about it just before they went in search of Sam. I think that last line just sums up the way John looks at life to me. There's always a solution, even if it's not perfect or everyone will think you're a bastard for even coming up with it. There's no such thing as an impossible situation.

LOL, babyreaper, as someone who has four big brothers and two big sisters, I think that's just the way older siblings are.

I love writing John, redgriffin7. He's just such a complex character. And yeah, there's a lot going on.

I don't know, requitv. I never thought being a son and being a soldier were mutually exclusive. In this story, John's repeatedly made it clear that he values Dean most as a son, that he loves him unconditionally, that he's proud of him, even reminded him in the same breath as his order that he was his son. At any rate, I don't think that John calling Dean a soldier (something that Dean likes to be considered) is more damaging than Sam calling him an idiot (something that Dean doesn't like to be considered).

Thanks, smartassmusicjunkie94!

That's just so Dean, though greendaypumpkin. Actually, all of them would probably suggest that the others leave them. They just do guilt so well. I'm shocked they haven't had an argument yet about who was most at fault for everything that's gone wrong.

Thanks, Yammy1983! I love John's relationship with Dean. And Bobby deserves his own fan club.

I don't know, cc. I kind of think being possessed is the ultimate get out of jail free card.

-Angie