CHAPTER 25

"Hey, Dean."

His dad's words startled him back into the present. With a small jump, he lifted his head to look at his dad. Confusion laced the unshed tears. His eyes begged his dad to help him. To help him understand. To help him out of the hell that was locked inside his head. To help him keep his brother.

"You okay, there?" John asked.

Dean just continued to stare, almost as if he was staring through his dad. His face lacked the liveliness it once held. John reached down and took Dean's hands in his. Looking at the wounds on his wrists. They were raw. It looked as if there were different things used to restrain him.

A rope, that was for sure, possibly something metal, like cuffs, and what looked like it could have been barbwire. He had small lacerations that took a few stitches each, that littered his wrists. His skin was red and angry looking from the restraints pulling so tight and rubbing his skin away as he fought against them.

They had been covered, this was the first time John had a chance to really look at them. Dean didn't react, he remained an emotionless blob sitting in front of his dad. John reached up and rubbed a nasty bruise on the side of Dean's face. It didn't look like it was caused by a fist, it looked as if an object had struck the side of his face, like a bat or club of some type.

The finger marks that lined his throat had started changing colors and could be seen more clearly through the rope burns that encircled his neck. His son had been choked, both by a rope that was tied around him, and by the hands of others. Bruises that resembled the marks of fingers and hand prints littered his arms. Small whelps also accompanied the marks, evidence that Dean had been beaten by some type of a belt or whip, chances are, knowing Dean, it was needed as a way to put him into submission.

Dean's face was way too thin, his cheeks were sinking in. His arms were losing their muscle tone. John wondered when the last time his son ate was. He couldn't remember him eating anything in the hospital. A little bit of pudding and jello to make the nurses and doctor happy, but no solid food.

John glanced at the counter that sat beside them, taking notice of the bandages and medical supplies that were needed to be replaced after his shower.

"Come on." John said as he placed a hand on Dean's elbow and one behind his back to help him off the floor. Bobby had made his way over beside them, concerned for Dean's lack of life. "Will you grab those supplies?" John asked Bobby, who did what was requested of him.

John walked Dean to the edge of the bed, opposite the one Sam sat on. Dean seemed to be in a zombie state, zoned out, not wanting to face reality. Sam watched, taking note of the same injuries and physical condition John had.

Without a word, John started bandaging Dean's wrists. Putting the cream on, then covering them in bandages, one at a time. After the bandages were applied he wrapped his fractured arm back in the soft cast. The doctor said that would be the type of cast he would keep since the injuries on his wrist were so severe. It wasn't a complete break so they were told it would be okay to unwrap for showers and bandage changes. He then lifted Dean's shirt.

His torso was littered with bruises. There were large ones and smaller ones. The broken ribs were obvious to see, they were the worst of the bruises. His back, equally as bad. Again, there were whelps that told them he was whipped with some type of object. There were burn marks resembling the appearance of some type of taser or shocking device on his side and chest. His skin was stretched tight against his ribs, sunken in by the lack of nutrition. The bottom of his rib cage stuck out from his too sunken stomach.

John picked up the bandage and wrapped his broken ribs. It was nothing Dean wasn't used to. The kid had more broke ribs than he could remember, but with the other injuries, they looked to be extra painful. Dean still didn't show any signs of acknowledging his dad was even touching him.

John then moved to Dean's ankles. The shackle that had been around his ankle had left almost a full circle of stitches. His skin looked red and puffy. The doctor had explained to him it wasn't a clean cut, that the shackle had ripped his skin away as it dug into him. John lifted Dean's pant leg, curious of other injuries.

His leg was red all the way up to his knee. It was sore and showing the signs of effects from the cuff. The other leg wasn't nearly as bad. It hadn't been chained to the ground. But, there were still whelps that matched the rest of his body and bruises that appeared to be hands that had held his son's legs apart with force. John wrapped the ankle that had the stitches.

He wanted so badly to examine the rest of his body, to see the other injuries. Part of him was scared to see what he would find. His stomach already felt like it wanted to vomit just by the thoughts of his boy being tortured and receiving the injuries that he could see. Another part of him didn't want to breach Dean's privacy. But, the boy always slept in his boxers, so would it really be crossing the privacy line, or would it just be getting his son ready for bed?

John chewed on his thoughts for a moment. Dean had finally moved. He pushed himself back against the wall that the bed sat on and pulled his knees back to his chest. He started rocking himself back and forth. His mind, still, a thousand miles away. His breathing became heavy as his eyes drifted closed.

John figured Dean was exhausted, he wasn't sure where his mind was, but knew what ever was going on in there, was exhausting him. He got his nighttime medication, both the things he had been prescribed before, that the doctor said would be okay to give him since if he ever remembered the PTSD would be worse than anything they've ever seen before. And, he also gave him the medicine for the effects of the drugs his body was recovering from.

Dean took them, emotionless, robotic. He never opened his eyes when his dad put them to his mouth. He then pulled Dean down onto the bed, covered him and made sure his head was comfortable on the pillow.

Sam had sat and watched everything their dad had done to take care of Dean. He had to admit, even with all the anger that had built up in him, he had never seen his brother so lost. He was broken as much physically as he was mentally. Reaching the limits of capability of functioning he seemed to just shut down. Sam had his dad take care of him several times, and Dean was always there when he needed him, but he had never seen his dad take care of Dean, not like this.

"Sam." John said, exhausted, without turning to look at his youngest son. "Is it okay if Bobby shares a bed with you tonight? I think I need to stay near Dean."

"Uh… yeah, that's fine." Sam replied, seeing the brokenness in his dad too. The concern that man had for his family may have been hidden, but it was definitely there when it needed to be.

John just sat on the bed, watching his oldest son sleep. He seemed so lifeless. His skin was pale and covered with bruises that seemed too unreal. He looked over at his older friend, helplessness shining in his eyes.

"We just gotta make it through tonight, tomorrow will be a new day, we'll tackle that when we get to it." Bobby reminded him with the wisdom that he held.

John nodded, giving Dean a slight pat on his shoulder. He made his way to the bathroom and took care of his own nightly needs before returning to the room, he slid himself under the covers beside his oldest boy.

Dean was so strong, so brave. He wasn't supposed to be broken like this. But, Bobby was right, Dean had a long, exhausting day, and was still healing, he had reached his limit and allowed his body to give into the exhaustion. Tomorrow would be a new day, with new adventures, and they would have to deal with them as they came up, the same as before.

The men turned the lights off after they all settled into bed. Sam hadn't spoken and Bobby wasn't going to push him. The room fell quiet as everyone's minds seemed to be in different places.

"Good night, Dean." John whispered. "I'm so sorry I couldn't have saved you from this, son. I'm sorry you always seem to have to fight your way through everything. I'd understand if it became too much, I wouldn't blame you for giving up. But, I love you, and want you to fight this as much as you can."

Sam's eyes weld up with tears at his father's words. His big brother did always seem to have to fight through a lot. His whole life was one big fight. One big fight that he protected his little brother from. In fact, he had protected him from a lot.

He had sheltered him the best he could. He made sure Sam stayed as happy as possible and every time he needed him, Dean always seemed to be there, no matter what was going on in his own life. Maybe their dad was right, maybe Dean had worn out from the constant fight of life, maybe he was ready to just give up.

Sam knew Dean needed him, he was always what gave Dean that drive to continue, no matter how hard life got, but Sam had just pushed him away, blamed him for everything that he had ever had to face. He blamed him for what had just happened to him, even though they didn't know all the facts, and probably never would.

Sam had so much anger built up, anger that he had used to lash out at his brother. But, was it really him? Was he really so angry at Dean? Even if Dean had willingly entered into the trouble he found himself in, chances are, he didn't fully understand what he was getting into, and could Sam really blame him for being so desperate? Maybe Dean didn't want to fight anymore and figured that would be the easiest way out? But, couldn't Dean see how much Sam needed him? Of course not ! How could he expect him to see that when all he did was yell at him and blame him for everything negative in his life?

Bobby feared the family was broken. He had always had faith that no matter what they faced they would fix it and become whole again, but seeing Dean tonight, made it a little harder to hold onto that faith.

Dean wasn't Dean. Even after the ordeal a month ago, even after all the hardships and heartaches, Dean always kept a part of himself. But, tonight, Dean was lost, he was lost, broken, and alone. Sure, there were people around him, but that didn't mean he didn't feel alone. Sam had pushed him away, said he didn't need him, that he would be better without his big brother, nothing could ever make Dean feel more alone than that.

He was an empty shell, like never before, completely void of any emotions. Bobby hoped morning would shine new light on the situation, but he feared it would take much more to bring the kid back. It would take a lot more for Dean to find Dean again and fill his emptiness back up.

John tried to sleep, but it was restless. He was too concerned about his son. He just wanted to make sure Dean would be okay, he wanted to see him happy again, see him full of life, life that was lost, life that had been taken from him. The same emptiness he felt when Mary had died seemed to creep inside of him. He was feeling the same loss and pain for his oldest son. And, he didn't know how to fix it, he didn't know what to do to make everything right again.

Dean started having a restless sleep as well, slight body twitches and increased breathing. John tried to sooth him, tried to keep him from having a nightmare, it seemed to help, even if it didn't completely take it away. John wondered if Dean was in pain if that's what he was reacting to.

Dean had pretty much refused pain meds. He wanted to be able to clear his head, to remember what he had forgotten, and he knew the pain medication would keep him from doing that, but he also knew they were there, just in case he needed them.

Dean's head was a knotted-up mess. He couldn't make sense of what ran through it. He knew it wasn't right, somehow, he knew. He knew he shouldn't change ages and locations so much, and somehow, the things that did make sense, the time line was wrong. He would have injuries during one thought then the next they would be gone, then back again. But, he couldn't get his mind to straighten them up, no matter how hard he tried.

"Drink up, you'll enjoy it!" "I said, drink up! That means all of it, don't leave anything behind."

"You want to have some fun? Get a little drunk? Come on, I'll show you a good time." "Don't worry, this won't hurt much, you won't even remember the pain."

"You scream like a bitch! Just shut up and enjoy it." "You want to breathe? Then maybe you should do what you're told to do."

"You better follow my orders, or you'll get it worse next time." "Don't like the burn of the electricity? Maybe you shouldn't try so hard to fight."

"Come on, it's not that bad, just a little drink, you know you want it."

"I've got women, you like women? Or do you prefer men?"

"What's a little boy like you doing out here? Isn't it past your bedtime?" "Did Daddy teach you how to do this so good?"

"You keep fighting and your damn ankle is going to be cut off, and guess what? I don't give a shit! No one gives a shit about you!"

"You're worthless now! Nothing but a little bitch." "No one is going to give a shit about a piece of garbage like you!"

"Spread them, or I'll fucking break them!" "You wanna cry for Daddy? Well, Daddy isn't coming, so scream all you want."

Dean tried to fight the thoughts in his sleep but ended up waking in a panic. He tried to pull his body into a seated position but it protested against the pain of the sudden movement. John tightened his grip on the arm that laid across Dean's chest, letting him know he was there to protect him.

"DAD!"

Dean yelled as his eyes flew opened and his body shook uncontrollably. He was having a hard time catching his breath. His body ached, it more than ached. He could feel everything from his dream. He wasn't sure if it was real or not, but either way, he could feel it.

His screaming and sudden panic woke Sam and Bobby as well. John was holding his son within seconds.

"It's okay son, I'm right here. Dad's here. It's okay. You're safe. You're okay." John cooed as he repeated the words until Dean was able to understand them.

He whimpered as he fought to catch his breath and stop his shaking. He whimpered in fear and pain. He whimpered with the memories that were still stuck in his head. Memories he knew he didn't want to remember. Stray tears started dripping down his face. Bobby had turned the light on, afraid the darkness would cause more fear, and John wiped away the tears from his son's face.

"Dad?"

Dean whimpered as he started to calm, his breathing more even but John could feel his son's heart beat like it was going to leap from his chest, and his body was still shaking, it had seemed to calm some, but not completely gone away.

"I'm right here, son. I'm not going anywhere, it's okay, I'm right here."

John had helped Dean lean against the pillows behind him. He had been struggling to sit up, to get out of the laying position he spent so many days in. John sat beside his son, determined he would be there, no matter what. Dean turned toward John and wrapped his arms tightly around his chest, he rested his face buried in his dad's shoulder. His body was still shaking, but he needed the comfort. He needed to be held, to know he was safe.

John returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around his son and rubbing gently on his back. He had seen the injuries and didn't want to cause him any additional pain.

Sam laid watching his dad and brother. He was torn. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to think or feel. He watched his older brother get the comfort and care that he should have gotten his entire life. His brother needed to know he was safe, that someone was there to take care of him.

He may not remember what had happened, but something was causing his brother nightmares. Rather it was from past events or the most recent one, his subconscious mind was working overtime, causing his already broken soul to shatter even deeper.

"Dad?" Sam quietly got his dad's attention.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Is he okay?"

"I don't know." John sounded completely worn out. The man sounded like the only thing he wanted at that moment was sleep. Sleep that he couldn't seem to get. "Sam, he's going to have a long road ahead of him, and he's not going to be able to do it without you."

Sam sighed. "I know." He replied so quietly John wouldn't have heard him if the room wasn't so quiet.

John continued to comfort Dean as his body started to calm.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Dad." Dean apologized with a volume that almost matched Sam's.

"For what?"

"Becoming the piece of garbage that I am."

"Dean…" John started but was interrupted by his other son.

Sam had gotten up and moved his way over to the bed his dad and Dean laid on. "You're not garbage." Sam said, a bit nervous and still unsure what he was supposed to feel. He sat on the opposite side of Dean, putting him between Sam and John, surrounding him with safety and comfort.

"I'm sorry I made you hate me." Dean practically sobbed the words to Sam. "If you really want me to leave, I will. You guys can go back to Bobby's and I'll just stay here. It's not like I can make my life much worse."

"Dean, I don't want you to go anywhere, and I don't want to leave either. We're a family, and no matter how hard life may get, we're in this together."

"You sure?" Dean seemed way too unsure of himself.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Sam reassured. "You just gotta give me some time, okay? I'm not really sure what to think right now, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel right now."

"Me either." Dean whispered, his voice no longer able to come out without extra force.

He had pulled his head away from his dad but didn't release his hold on his shirt. He couldn't seem to let go of the reassurance and safety he felt, he didn't want it to leave, didn't want to find himself back in whatever hell he had just come from.

Leaning his head back on John's shoulder, Dean seemed to have used all his energy on the nightmare and what little conversation he was able to have.

"Dad." Dean seemed to have to force the word out, his eyes closed and his head leaned against his dad, unable to hold itself up.

"Yeah, son?"

"I… it hhurtss." He managed to stutter the words out.

"You want something to knock the pain out?"

Dean nodded, using what little ability he could find to move his head.

John looked up at Sam.

"I got it." Sam said as he made his way to the medications, bringing back a bottle of water and one of the good pain pills they both helped Dean take the medicine.

"Give it a few minutes, and it should start taking care of that pain." John stated, trying to give comfort to his son.

It only took about ten minutes and Dean seemed to fall back asleep. Sam and John positioned him in a more comfortable position and hoped the pain meds would keep him asleep for the rest of the night. He was exhausted and needed all the sleep he could get. He was running on empty, not even having the strength to lift his own head.

Bobby had turned the lights back off, he laid in his bed, observing, but not interrupting. Sam had settled on one side of Dean, and John on the other. All four men fell asleep, knowing they needed as much as they could get, they needed their heads as clear as possible, if they were going to be able to be the support Dean needed.