Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 29

No End of Trouble


The sound of the gunshot reverberated through the building and John felt a sudden wave of nausea overtake him. He had recognized his son's voice, of course, but he still thought his eyes were playing tricks on him as he took in the small form before him. How did Dean get here?

Dean was just standing there, eyes wide open, hands shaking slightly as he held onto the gun. John could tell the kid was in a mild state of shock, so he put aside his own panic and fear, and made his way over to him. Just as he was a step away, Dean suddenly threw himself forward, nearly jumping into John's arms. John could feel the tremors that were coursing through the small body.

"Dean? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" John ran his hands over Dean, looking for any signs of injury or trauma and was surprised when Dean continued to hang onto him as tightly as he could. John tried to pull himself free enough to be able to take the gun from the boy, but his arms were pinned to his side by Dean's own arms.

"Dean? Let go, son," he tried, but Dean's grasp didn't loosen. "DEAN!" he finally yelled. He was actually surprised when Dean's arms fell to his side and he took a step back. John reached down and quickly grabbed the gun. He looked around the building, searching for any signs of the spirit, before turning back to his son. "Dean, what the hell are you doing here?! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to be here?"

Dean stared at John for several long seconds before giving his head a slight shake. Suddenly, his eyes seemed clearer and he stood up straighter.

"Dad?"

John didn't have time to answer his son because all of a sudden the temperature dropped and the spirit rushed at them again. He quickly pushed Dean behind him and raised the gun up, getting off a shot just as she was mere inches away from them. Once he was sure she had disappeared again, he pulled Dean out from behind him and started walking to the door, his hand never letting go of Dean's arm.

Wasting no time at all, John dragged Dean back to the Impala, opened the door, and nearly shoved Dean into the front seat. "Stay here!" he ordered. "Don't even set one foot outside this car, do you hear me?"

"But, Dad….I can help," Dean tried.

"I mean it, Dean. Stay in the car or so help me God….." John didn't have the time to explain to the boy what would happen if he disobeyed. Instead, he gave Dean a long look that he hoped conveyed everything he needed it to. When he saw a look of resignation cross his son's face, he shut the door and stepped back to the trunk. Seconds later, he held two canisters of salt in his hands and he quickly outlined the whole car in a ring of salt. Once that was done, he chanced another look at Dean and then turned and walked toward the museum.


Dean knew he was in a ton of trouble, but he didn't care. If he hadn't shown up when he did, his dad would probably be dead, so he didn't regret his choices at all. Of course, he knew he'd probably be regretting them a lot once they got home and his father was ready to deal with is disobedience, but he didn't want to think about that at the moment.

Looking out the window, he followed the dark shape of his dad as he made his way back toward the fun center. Dean was surprised when John walked past the building and headed to another building that was just past it. As he tried to figure out what his dad was doing, he remembered Bobby saying something about a museum close by and how there might be something there that was holding the ghost to the area. He felt a shiver run through him at the thought of his father facing the ghost alone and his fingers itched to grab the door handle and open the door.

But, he stayed.

Dean looked out the back window, his eyes never leaving the building that John had eventually entered. He rolled down the window, hoping to be able to hear if his father called for help. Not that he expected John Winchester to call out for help, especially knowing his eleven year old son would be the only one to hear him.

He had no idea how much time had passed, really. It seemed like his Dad had been gone for hours, leaving Dean alone to worry and fret over everything that had happened so far. In actuality, though, it had probably been only thirty to forty minutes since the man had slipped through the museum door.

Dean waited a little longer before a more pressing need made itself known. He had to go pee. He waited and waited for as long as he could, but eventually he couldn't wait any longer. With one look back at the museum, Dean opened the door and slipped out of the Impala. Of course, the Impala was the only car in the parking lot, but he didn't feel comfortable relieving himself right out in the open.

After taking a quick look around, he noticed a small copse of trees across the road they had driven in on. Happy to see that it was far enough away from the fun center and museum, Dean quickly made his way across the road and into the small grove.

He knew his father would be mad at him for stepping foot outside of the car, but he really hoped he would understand why he did it. When a man's gotta go, a man's gotta go, right?

Once he was a few feet into the small grove of trees, Dean went about his business rather quickly. He couldn't help the feeling that something was watching him and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to be back inside the Impala, safe inside the salt circle his father had laid down. Dean was just pulling his zipper up when he heard two things….. First, the sound of someone wailing in anger and second, the sound of his father yelling his name. Dean felt his stomach drop and fear shot through him, more because of the fact that his dad knew he had gotten out of the car than anything else. Taking a deep breath, he turned and made his way back over to the road, trying to garner his strength to face up to a pissed off John Winchester.


John quickly made his way into the museum, taking one last look back at the Impala to see Dean's head popping up over the seat before opening the side door and making his way inside. He was relieved to find that the temperature seemed normal and that there were no other signs of the spirit at the moment.

Luckily, the museum wasn't very big or very crowded, so he easily made his way through each exhibit, keeping his eyes open for anything that might be related to the orphanage and its occupants. He had just made it to the back of the museum when he saw a picture that looked like the one Bobby had shown him earlier. Stepping into the little alcove where the picture was hanging, John quickly noticed that there were several other pictures of the orphanage hanging up. He looked closely at each one of them and didn't have any trouble at all finding what he was looking for. One picture showed the barn that Bobby had shown him. Next to this picture was a cabinet that was shelving items that were obviously from that barn. John studied the picture again, trying to make out the group of people in the background. The photo was grainy and old, so it was really hard to make out details, but eventually John saw something that he hoped would help him.

The group of people in the photo were all standing off to the side of the barn and they were all wearing riding gear. It didn't take long for John to hone in on the schoolmarm, realizing immediately that she was indeed their angry spirit. As he looked at her, he quickly took in the clothes she was wearing, hoping to find something of interest. It only took him a few seconds to realize that she was wearing riding gloves and riding boots. It took him even less time to notice that the barn wasn't exactly in the same place that the museum was now, like they had previously thought. In fact, the barn looked to be on the other side of the (then nonexistent) road they had driven in on. The road right next to the parking lot where he had just left his son.

The need to check on Dean nearly overwhelmed him, but John knew that he needed to do what he had set out to do first. Stepping over to the cabinet, he looked closely at each item, hoping to find what he was looking for. And he couldn't believe his eyes when he saw several pairs of riding gloves and boots on the bottom shelf of the cabinet.

He knew it was a pretty far-fetched idea that the spirit had left something of herself behind in either the gloves or the boots that was now allowing her free reign over the area, but it was the only idea he had at the moment. As he gathered the items off the bottom shelf, he found himself growing suspicious of the fact that the spirit had yet to make herself known again. In his experience, spirits were usually protective of the thing that tethered them to the place they were haunting. So, why wasn't this spirit pissed off that John was doing what he was doing?

Just as that thought entered his mind, he saw a flickering form take shape in front of him. Before he could swing his gun around, the ghost rushed him, somehow knocking him back into the cabinet. John braced himself once he hit the ground, knowing that the cabinet was probably going to fall over on top of him, and that he wouldn't be able to stop it or get out of its way fast enough. But the cabinet stayed standing.

Attempting to pull himself up, he frantically looked around for the spirit, hoping to head off her next attack. At the same time, he was looking for the things that had been knocked out of his hands when he was pushed over. He still held on to one pair of gloves, but the other pair of gloves and the boots had been ripped from his hands as the ghost rushed through him. John noticed one of the gloves a few feet away, but both boots and the other glove were nowhere to be found.

Eventually, he spied what looked like the toe of a boot hiding in the shadows of the cabinet, but before he could reach for it, he heard the wailing of the spirit and felt the wind rushing towards him again. Looking up and trying to prepare himself for the next assault, John was surprised when the spirit stopped her forward motion, seemingly listening to something that he couldn't hear, before suddenly fading away.

John moved as fast as he could to grab the boots. He had a bad feeling that the ghost was going after Dean, and although he had given strict orders for the boy to stay inside the car, he wouldn't put it past him to disobey. That kid had a mind of his own sometimes. Not taking the time to look for the other glove, John turned and ran towards the front of the building. As soon as he opened the door, he saw that the door to the Impala was open and that his son was no longer inside.

Cursing loudly, he ran forward, his eyes searching everywhere for the spirit and for Dean. Just as he reached the Impala, he yelled for Dean as loudly as he could. His son's name carried in the night, but was overtaken by the angry wail of the schoolmarm. John turned and ran in the direction of the wail, but faltered just a few seconds later when he saw Dean coming out of the woods across the road.

Even though he knew the spirit would get to Dean before him, John took off running again, as fast as he could, his heart pounding painfully in his chest and his lungs burning with each breath.


Dean had just made it out of the woods when he noticed a strange shape coming towards him. It didn't take long for him to realize that it was the spirit they were hunting. It took him even less time to realize that he was really, truly in danger. And not just from his dad.

He started running away from the apparition, making his way diagonally through the grass to get to the road, all the time knowing that the spirit was moving much faster than he was. He made it to the edge of the road and had just noticed his dad running towards him, when he felt something pulling on his coat. He fought to pull himself away, but the spirit was too strong for him. Dean was pulled to a complete stop and a shiver ran through him as he felt the coldness surrounding him.

In just a matter of seconds, he felt his energy draining away from him, but he tried with all his might to pull away from the cold hands that were holding on to him. To his dismay, he couldn't break free, and all he got for his endeavor was the feel of one of the cold hands reaching up and grabbing him by his ear. Now, with one icy hand holding onto his arm and the other one painfully squeezing his ear, Dean felt himself being dragged, up on his tip-toes, back towards the woods.

The air around him was so cold that he wasn't able to call out for his dad or to even catch his breath. But, he knew his dad was coming. And he knew that his dad would do whatever it took to save him.


John watched in horror as the spirit caught up with Dean and started dragging him back into the woods. He was running as fast as he could, but it felt like he was stuck in molasses. "DEAN!" he yelled, wanting his boy to know that he was coming for him.

His lungs felt like they were on fire, but John didn't stop running. He knew that he needed to somehow stop the spirit from making it all the way into the woods, but he felt like he was continuously losing ground. Bringing his gun up, he tried to sight in on the ghost while still running, but that only resulted in him stumbling over a rock and almost falling.

Just when he was about to scream in frustration, an opportunity presented itself. John could tell that the spirit was holding on tightly to Dean's arm and to his ear, dragging the boy forward with his feet barely reaching the ground. Dean stumbled occasionally, too, but the spirit's grip didn't falter. They were almost through the first row of trees when Dean's legs completely gave out and he started to fall. In that barest second of time that Dean pulled away from the spirit, John raised his gun up and pulled the trigger, hoping with everything he had that his aim was true.

Relief shot through him when the ghost dissipated with another angry wail, but he wasted no time in running to his son.

"Dean! Dean, are you okay?" he asked desperately as he knelt down beside his son.

Just like before, Dean grabbed onto his father and buried his face in his chest. John held on with one hand while he used his other one to check Dean for injuries. Not seeing anything obvious, he gently probed Dean's extremities. He wasn't surprised when Dean cried out when he was checking his knee.

"Ow!" Dean cried loudly.

"Is it your knee?" John asked.

"Yes, sir," Dean moaned.

John moved his arm and gently repositioned Dean, grabbing him under the thighs and arms gently. Pulling himself to his feet, he tucked Dean in as tightly as he could to his chest. Once he was standing straight up, he realized that he had left his gun on the ground.

"Dean, I've got you, son, but I need you to do something for me, okay? I'm going to bend over and I need you to pick up my gun. Can you do that?"

"I th-think so," Dean stuttered.

"Okay, here we go." John leaned over, still holding Dean tightly to his chest. He felt Dean turning outward slightly and heard a small whimper. When Dean had the gun in his hand, John straightened up. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered quietly. "My knee just hurts a little, but I'm okay."

"Let's get back to the car and I'll fix your knee up."

"I wanna go home," Dean answered immediately. "Dad, can't we just go home?"

John looked down at Dean, noticing for the first time how pale the boy looked. He didn't answer as they walked, choosing instead to keep his eyes open for the return of the spirit. Luckily, they made it back to the Impala without the spirit reappearing.

John opened up the door to the back seat and laid Dean gently onto the seat. Grabbing his jacket, he placed it under Dean's head, propping him up as much as he could. Then he grabbed the blanket that Dean had earlier been hiding under and folded it up, making a makeshift pillow to prop his leg up. Once he was done, he went back to the trunk and grabbed a second blanket, the first aid kit, and a bottle of water. He covered Dean up with the second blanket and opened up the first aid kit. After rummaging through it to find some of the children's Tylenol he usually kept in there, he handed Dean the pills and the bottle of water. "Here you go, son."

Dean took the pills and swallowed them. Half-expecting his dad to start yelling at him for all of the bad choices he had made, he was surprised when John just closed the door.

"I'll be right back," John said as he started walking back towards the road. Dean watched as he bent over and picked up what looked like a pair of boots and a glove. When he got back to the car, John opened the trunk again and threw the items in.

Once he was settled back in the driver's seat, he looked back at Dean to check on him. "Still okay?"

Dean nodded, but followed it up with a quiet "Yes, sir."

John started up the car and pulled out onto the road, wanting to put as much distance as he could between his son and that spirit. He had barely made it onto the road when Dean spoke again.

"What about the ghost, Dad? Did you get her?"

John's face clouded over in anger. He hated leaving a job without finishing it, especially when what they were hunting was dangerous. He knew he'd have to drop Dean off at Bobby's and make his way back to take care of the ghost before she could hurt anyone else.

"No, Dean. I didn't get her." Unable to hold it in any longer, he exploded. "What in the hell were you doing there, Dean?! Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? I left you at Bobby's, where you'd be safe, but you took it upon yourself to sneak out and hitch a ride? What were you thinking?!"

Dean didn't know how to put it into words how worried he was that John was going on the hunt by himself, so he didn't say anything at all.

"You have nothing to say for yourself?" John asked angrily. "Well, you have three hours to think about it, little boy, because once we get back to Bobby's, you and I are gonna have a real serious talk. And my mouth isn't the only thing that's gonna be doing the talking."


Author's note: Another attempt at some action, folks. I hope it read well for you. And how mad do you all think John really is or should be? Oh, and the next chapter will have a little bit of Bobby and Sam in it, too, just so you know. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I'd love to hear your thoughts/ideas.