Raising Winchesters

Chapter 12

It wasn't long before John was eager to get back out on the road and this time he wanted to take Sam and Dean with him. Bobby tried to talk the man into letting the boys stay with him, but John refused. Dean was happy to be going along with his dad, but he was sad to leave Bobby's, too. Especially since he was starting to feel sick.

He didn't tell his dad or Bobby, but he had a horrible sore throat and his head was pounding like the drum beat of one of his favorite Zeppelin songs. Loud and powerful like Zeppelin. But not enjoyable, at all. In fact, his head was pounding so hard that he thought he might throw up.

After breakfast, John sent the boys upstairs to pack up their stuff. Sam was excited to leave once he found out that they were staying in a cabin by a lake, but Dean knew something his little brother didn't. Yeah, they would be staying in a cabin by a lake, but it wouldn't be like a vacation or anything. Instead, they would be stuck inside the cabin with the doors and windows salted while their dad was out hunting whatever monster had garnered his attention.

Dean knew better than to think that any part of the situation would be fun in any way. He knew that it would more than likely be miserable, in fact. Trying to keep Sam entertained in that situation definitely wouldn't be easy and he was pretty sure he wasn't up to the task.

But that didn't stop John Winchester, of course. Nothing got in the way of a hunt.

Before Dean was ready, they were all packed up and standing out on the front porch, saying goodbye to Bobby. John had already said his goodbye and was putting their duffels in the trunk, obviously anxious to get on the road.

"You boys be good for your daddy, you hear?" Bobby said as he looked down at the two brothers. He wouldn't ever admit it, but he was really going to miss having the two of them around.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

"Are you okay, Dean? Your voice sounds a little funny, kid."

"I'm okay. I'm just thirsty, I think."

"You better go on in and get a drink of water, then. Your daddy's not likely to stop any time soon."

"I'll be okay." Dean knew that a drink of water wasn't going to help him at all and he didn't want to make his dad mad by stalling any longer. The man was already looking at them rather impatiently. "Let's go, Sammy. Dad's waiting for us."

"Goodbye, Uncle Bobby. I'm gonna miss you." Sam threw himself at Bobby's legs, wrapping his arms around them.

"I'm gonna miss you, too, kid. But, I'm sure I'll be seein' you soon."

"Promise?" Sam asked as he looked up at the man.

"I'll be talkin' to your daddy, Sam, and I'll make sure he knows that he can bring you boys over any time."

"Sam! Dean! Let's go, boys!" John's voice thundered. Sam immediately let go of Bobby's legs and turned to run to the Impala.

"Bye, um….Uncle Bobby. Thanks for…. thanks for everything." Dean wished that he could tell Bobby how much he appreciated everything the man had done. The Christmas tree, the angel topper, the presents…..

"Bye, Dean. Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will, sir."

Bobby watched as Dean followed his brother to the car. He was surprised to find that he felt the same pain in his heart he felt every time he thought of his wife and he realized just how much he had come to care for the two Winchester boys. Turning away from the image of the Impala driving away, Bobby went back into his house, noticing immediately how quiet and empty it suddenly seemed. And not for the first time, he found himself cursing the day he ever met John Winchester.

Dean sat in the back of the Impala with Sam curled up next to him. He was starting to ache all over and he wanted to push Sam away from him, but he didn't. Sam wasn't the greatest traveler, but he usually did okay if he was sitting right next to his brother. Dean didn't understand why that was, but he had learned the hard way not to question it.

John had been mostly quiet over the last few hours, listening as Sam chattered away over anything and everything. He was relieved that Dean was back there to harness Sam's energy and to keep him occupied. He felt a little guilty at leaving that spectacular task to Dean, but he was too selfish to do anything differently.

As the miles passed, the boys grew more and more restless. John couldn't help but notice that Dean was getting annoyed with Sam's constant chatter, which surprised him. Usually Dean had the patience of a saint when it came to his little brother. More patience than he himself ever had, for sure.

Just when he thought that maybe Sam had fallen asleep, a loud cry erupted from the backseat, making him swerve the car slightly.

"OW! Move over, Sam. And quit kicking me!"

"I didn't kick you! I was just moving!"

"You did kick me! Twice! So scoot over!"

When Sam didn't move fast enough, Dean leaned over and pushed him away, causing him to cry out.

"OW! That hurt, Dean!"

"I told you to move, dummy!"

"Daddy, Dean pushed me," Sammy cried.

John could tell that Sam was just seconds away from having a complete breakdown and he knew he needed to stop it straightaway. "Both of you better knock it off," he said loudly. "Dean, keep your hands off your brother and stop calling him names."

"He won't leave me alone, Dad," Dean argued. "Tell him to stay on his side of the car!"

"I wasn't doing anything!" Sam yelled. "You're just being a meanie!"

"I AM NOT!" Dean yelled back.

"HEY! Both of you knock it off, unless you want me to pull this car over! And I'm pretty sure you don't want that to happen." By this time, John was glaring at them in the rearview mirror and he was pleased to see both boys instantly stop what they were doing. "Sam, move over to the window. Dean? Read your brother a story or something."

"I don't want to," Dean grumbled.

"It wasn't a suggestion, boy," John growled back. "Do we need to have a conversation about following orders?"

"No, sir."

John watched as Dean angrily grabbed a book out of the bag of toys on the floorboard. "Watch the attitude, Dean," he said simply.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered in a much more subdued voice.

John continued to watch the boys through the rearview mirror, happy to see that they both seemed to have moved on. He listened as Dean read the story to Sam and he noticed that Dean's voice sounded a little hoarse. Waiting until Dean had finished the book, he finally asked him how he was feeling, hoping that the kid wasn't coming down with something.

"Are you feeling okay, Dean? Your voice sounds funny."

"I'm fine, Dad. Just tired, I guess."

John looked at his watch and then over to the map spread out on the seat beside him. "Why don't you boys take a nap? We'll stop for lunch in about an hour, okay?" He was expecting an argument from both of them and was surprised when it never came. He was even more surprised when he looked back a few minutes later to find both boys sound asleep.

An hour later, John stopped at a diner right off the highway. He hated to wake the boys up, but the next decent sized town wasn't for at least another hundred miles. And he figured the boys were probably just as hungry as he was.

It took longer than usual to get Dean to wake up. It wasn't until he promised the kid a piece of pie that Dean finally opened his eyes completely. "I thought that might get your attention," John laughed.

Sam, who was still trying to wake all the way up, held his hands up to his dad, begging to be carried into the diner. Dean couldn't help but feel a little jealous, since he felt like his legs weighed at least a hundred pounds each and he wasn't sure he could make it on his own. The short walk to the diner left him feeling exhausted and he wanted nothing more than to climb back into the backseat of the Impala and go back to sleep.

John hadn't really noticed Dean's lack of energy though. He was thoroughly distracted by Sam's exuberant questions of whether or not he thought that pancakes were better than waffles and if he thought the diner had French toast.

By the time they were seated in a corner booth, Dean's head was spinning. He sank down in the soft seat and immediately leaned up against the window, allowing his head to fall against the glass. Sam was still chattering on and on and Dean was thankful that John's attention was focused on his little brother.

After a few minutes, the waitress stopped to take their order. Dean listened as John ordered eggs and bacon for himself and a stack of chocolate chip pancakes for Sam. He didn't realize that the waitress was ready to take his order until his dad cleared his throat loudly and called his name.

"Dean? What are you having?" John asked.

Dean moved his head slowly to look at his dad and then up at the waitress. "I'll have a cheeseburger," he finally said. "And a coke."

Once the waitress left, he turned back to the window, leaning his head against the cool glass again. He was suddenly feeling both hot and cold at the same time and wondered how that could be.

Sam continued to babble on about whatever popped up in his head and John acted like he was listening. Dean knew that his dad had a knack for tuning things out that he didn't want to listen to without making it seem like he wasn't listening. With a few well-placed responses, Sam never knew that he didn't have a hundred percent of his dad's attention. Dean thought he should learn how to do that himself.

Fifteen minutes later, the waitress brought out their food. Dean was hit with a wave of nausea when she placed the greasy cheeseburger down in front of him. Taking some slow deep breaths, he grabbed a French fry and started nibbling on it. He knew there was no way he was going to be able to eat the cheeseburger. He also knew that there was no way his dad would let him get away with that.

Luckily, John was digging into his own meal, so it wasn't readily apparent to him that Dean wasn't really eating. They were almost halfway through the meal when John finally realized that he wasn't.

"Something wrong with your burger?" he asked as he eyed the food on Dean's plate.

"No, sir," Dean answered.

"Well, then get to eating, Dean. We don't have all day. I want to make it to Rushville before dark."

Dean picked up his burger and took a small bite, feeling his dad's eyes on him the whole time. Putting the burger back down on his plate, he leaned back and slowly chewed. He could feel his stomach roiling, but with his dad watching him so closely, he had no choice but to continue. A few minutes later, he was relieved when Sam started asking John a bunch of random questions. With his dad's attention momentarily diverted, Dean made quick waste of the burger.

Whoever cleaned the diner that night wouldn't be happy to find a half-eaten cheeseburger stuffed in the seat of the booth.

Once they were back on the road again, Dean quickly fell back to sleep. He had no idea how long he was asleep, but when he finally woke up again, the sun was much lower in the sky.

"Sleeping Beauty finally decided to wake up, huh?" John said as he looked back at Dean.

Dean grinned sheepishly back at his dad. "I-I didn't sleep good last night," he finally said.

"And now you probably won't sleep good tonight, either. You've been sleeping for almost three hours."

"Really?"

"Yep. And Sam was just starting to get a little anxious without you."

Dean looked over at his brother who was sound asleep. "How long has he been asleep?"

John's eyes moved over to Sam. "Only about thirty minutes. But we shouldn't let him sleep too much longer or he won't be sleeping tonight. And I'm way too tired to be staying awake with a wide-awake Sammy."

They let Sam sleep for another fifteen minutes, but then John told Dean to wake him up. Dean was expecting Sam to wake up grumpy, but instead Sam woke up with a big smile on his face.

"What are you smiling for?" Dean asked.

"I had the bestest dream, Dean," Sam said. "You were flying in the air like a bird and I was trying to catch you. Then you picked me up and we were flying so high! Higher than the moon, Dean! And I wasn't even scared cuz I was with you! Wasn't that the bestest dream?"

Dean swallowed hard before answering his brother. His eyes teared up a little at the pain in his throat. "That was a great dream, Sammy."

Sam continued to talk about his dream, explaining to his dad and brother how his tummy felt funny when the Dean in his dreams swooped down and up repeatedly. Dean listened patiently to his brother's story as he tried not to move his head too much. Every movement, no matter how small, sent sharp pains through his head and he was pretty sure he hadn't ever felt so miserable in his entire life.

After almost another hour, John stopped the Impala at a small grocery store. "Either of you need to use the bathroom?" he asked as he turned around to look at his sons.

"I do!" Sam yelled immediately.

"I don't have to," Dean answered afterwards. He was hoping and praying that his dad wouldn't make him take Sam to the bathroom, but that was exactly what happened.

"Dean, take Sam to the bathroom while I pick up some supplies. And don't take your eyes off of him, you hear?"

"Yes, sir," Dean groaned. "Come on, Sammy." He grabbed Sam by the hand and pulled him out of the car. It took him several seconds of standing before he didn't feel like his legs were going to give out on him.

"Come on, Dean! I really gotta go," Sam squealed as he started doing his 'I gotta pee" dance.

Dean started walking faster, knowing that if he didn't hurry his little brother would have an accident. He also knew that if that happened, their dad would blame him for letting it happen.

Once they were done in the bathroom, Dean led Sam back out to the Impala. They both climbed into the back. Sam picked up one of his toy soldiers and started playing with it, while Dean stared out of the window, watching for John. He was more than ready to be done for the day and he really hoped they were close to the cabin.

Almost twenty minutes later, John returned to the car, his arms loaded with bags of groceries and a case of water. After stowing it all in the trunk, John got in the car and started the engine.

"Daddy? I'm hungry," Sam said as they pulled back out onto the highway.

John reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a candy bar. He tossed it into the backseat and Sam scrambled to get it. "Share it with your brother, Sam," John said.

Dean noticed that it was just a plain chocolate bar and he waited for Sam to start complaining about having to share it. But, he didn't. Instead, he opened up the bar, broke it in half, and handed one half over to Dean.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said quietly. "You can have my half, too."

"Really?" Sam's eyes lit up at the thought of having a whole candy bar to himself.

"Yeah, I'm not really hungry."

Sam took a big bite out of the chocolate and then turned to his brother with a chocolate covered grin. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean just nodded at his brother before leaning his head back against the seat.

They drove for another forty minutes before John turned the car onto an almost hidden gravel road. Five minutes later, he stopped the car in front of a rather run-down cabin. Dean's heart sank at the sight of the place, wondering why they couldn't stay some place nice for a change.

"This is it," John said as he turned off the engine. Looking up at the sky, he noticed the dark clouds rolling in. "Let's get everything unpacked before it starts raining."

Dean heaved himself out of the car, keeping his hand on the door long enough for the sudden bout of dizziness he felt to pass. Once it did, he made his way over to the trunk and grabbed his and Sam's duffels. Sam was carrying in the small bag of toys.

They followed John up to the cabin. "Watch out, boys. These steps look a little rotten."

Sam and Dean walked closely behind their father, avoiding the third step completely. Once they were up on the small porch, they waited as John unlocked the door. Dean didn't know what to expect, but his jaw dropped when the door opened and they walked in.

The place was a dump.

There was a small living room and an even smaller kitchen, at first glance. The couch and sofa in the living room were sagging and had giant rips in the fabric. There was a beat up coffee table sitting on a threadbare rug and a table next to the couch that held a lamp with a broken lampshade. The small kitchen had one small light hanging from the ceiling. The sink faucet was leaking and several of the cupboard doors were hanging off their hinges. Dean noticed a rather thick layer of dust covering everything.

"We're staying here?" he asked incredulously.

"I know it's not much, but it'll have to do. Beggars can't be choosers, Dean. This place was offered to us free of charge, so we'll have to make do."

"Dad, this place is a dump!" Dean's voice was laced with frustration.

"It just needs a little cleaning up," John said, his voice full of warning. Stepping over to the lamp, he clicked it on, but nothing happened. "Bobby said there's a generator out back, so I'll be back in a second. Dean, go look through the bedrooms and see what we have to work with."

Dean watched his dad walk back outside before doing what he was told. The sun was almost completely set, so everything inside the cabin was almost completely dark. Digging around in his duffel, Dean pulled out his flashlight. Once the light was on, he headed over to the small door that he hoped led to the rest of the house. Sam followed close behind him.

"I don't like it here, Dean," Sam said. "It's scary."

"It's okay, Sammy. It'll be better when Dad gets the lights on."

They made their way down a small hallway that had three doors off of it. The first door was a small bedroom that had nothing but a twin bed and a dresser in the corner. Dean noticed the same layer of thick dust in the room.

The next room was a small bathroom. Both the toilet seat and the sink had a crack in it, but the bathtub looked to be intact. Not that Dean really wanted to take a bath in it.

The last door was another bedroom. This one had a larger bed in it, as well as a dresser and a small desk. This room actually looked a lot cleaner than the rest and Dean just figured that whoever had been staying here mostly stayed in this room.

Once he had checked out the closets and under the beds at Sam's request, Dean led Sam back to the living room. Just as they walked in, the lamp came on, bathing the room with a yellow light. Seconds later, John came back in.

"There you go. Now we have some power," he said with a grin. "And look what else I found…."

Grabbing a bag from behind him, John pulled out some cleaning supplies. "Start cleaning this place up, Dean. I'm going to go bring the groceries in."

Dean took the bag of supplies from his dad and started looking through it. There wasn't much in it, but he figured it was enough to make the place a little better, at least. "Come on, Sam. You can help me."

They spent the better part of an hour trying to clear away some of the dust and cobwebs. By the time they were done, Dean's head was pounding worse than ever and he was sure he was just one second away from passing out. John had brought in all the groceries and was trying to put together a quick meal for them, so Dean sat down on the couch and rested his head back. Within two minutes, he was asleep.

John knew that the cabin wasn't a suitable place to be bringing his boys, but he didn't have any other choice. His funds were running low and he couldn't afford to waste money on a motel room when the cabin was his for free. He felt a little better once the cabin had been cleaned a little, at least. He also felt better after laying down some salt lines and starting a warm fire in the fireplace.

After making a quick dinner of ham sandwiches and potato chips, he called Sam and Dean over to the table. He didn't miss the way Dean stumbled to the table and it suddenly occurred to him how pale the kid was looking.

Once they were all at the table, he watched as Dean picked at his food, obviously steering clear of the potato chips on his plate. He watched as Dean took small bites of the sandwich and small sips of water, his face scrunching up every time he had to swallow.

"What's wrong with you, Dean?" he finally asked.

"Nothing," Dean answered after a particularly painful swallow.

"Don't lie to me, boy," John warned. "Now, what's wrong?"

Dean hesitated, but knew that he had no choice but to answer. "I don't really feel good, dad," he finally answered.

"In what way don't you feel good?"

"My throat hurts and my head feels like it's going to explode," Dean confessed.

John eyed his son closely. "How long have you been feeling like that?"

Dean swallowed painfully. "Since this morning," he finally admitted.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Dean didn't know how to answer his dad, so he just kept quiet. John stood up and walked over to his son, placing the back of his hand on Dean's forehead. "You're definitely running a fever," he said as he leaned down. "Open up and let me see your throat."

Dean opened his mouth and tilted his head upwards.

"Your throat is pretty red, too." John sighed deeply. "Damn it, Dean. You should have told me. Now, I'm going to have to drive back to the store to get some medication."

"I'm okay, Dad. I don't need any. I just really want to go to bed."

"There's no reason for you to suffer. I'm just going to drive back to the store."

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"Next time, you tell me you're sick. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"I mean it, Dean. You're being sick is not something to hide from me. Understand?"

Dean nodded miserably at his dad.

"Okay, I want both of you to get ready for bed. I'm going to finish laying some salt lines and then I'll head back into town."

"Can't we go with you?" Dean asked, suddenly desperate to not be left alone in the cabin. "Please?"

"No, you're staying here. You don't need to be going back out in the cold, Dean."

"But, Dad…."

"I said you're staying here."

"Yes, sir."

John grabbed his duffel and rifled through it. Once he found what he was looking for, he turned back to Dean. Dean was surprised to see him holding out a gun. "Here you go, Dean. Keep this with you at all times, okay? And remember your training. Safety on at all times and keep it away from Sam. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered as he nervously took the gun from his dad. He had been training with the man for almost a year and while he knew his dad thought he was a natural at shooting, guns still made him nervous.

"And what are the other rules?"

Dean wanted to roll his eyes, but he relished the safety of his backside enough to not do it. "Never point a gun at anything you're not willing to shoot and kill. Shoot first, ask questions later. Be ready for anything. And respect the gun."

John nodded his approval. "Okay, then, I'll be back in about an hour. Lock the door behind me. Don't open it for anyone. Don't mess up the salt lines. And watch out for Sammy."

"Yes, sir," Dean answered, trying to keep the fear he was feeling out of his voice.

"You can stay out here on the couch until I get back, if you want. Or you can go on to bed. I'll be back as fast as I can."

Dean and Sam watched as their dad walked out the door. Dean didn't want to admit it, but he felt like crying. He knew it was probably because he was feeling so bad, but it was also because they were in a strange cabin in the middle of nowhere and he had to protect his little brother.

"Come on, Sam. Let's get ready for bed and I'll read you a story."

Sam, who hadn't said a word for quite a while, looked up at his brother, his big eyes glistening with unshed tears. Dean knew that Sam was scared and it made him really angry at his dad. What kind of dad left their kids all alone in the middle of nowhere?

Knowing that it would only be worse if he dwelled on the situation, Dean took Sam by the hand and led him to the bathroom. While Sam was brushing his teeth and washing his face, Dean pulled out his pajamas, getting them ready for Sam. Eventually, they were both ready for bed.

"Hey, Sam…. What do you say we wait out on the couch for Dad? The light is brighter out there, so I can see the book better."

"Okay," Sam answered as he followed his brother back out to the living room.

Dean settled against the arm of the couch and waited for Sam to settle in next to him. Once he was, Dean grabbed the blanket and threw it over the both of them. The blanket was a little short, so he made sure the majority of it was covering Sam.

Once they were settled, Dean took a few deep breaths and started reading the story. He was almost to the end of the book when the lights suddenly flickered and went out. Both boys let out a small cry at the sudden blackness they found themselves in. Because of the clouds in the sky, there was very little moonlight coming in through the windows, meaning that it was almost pitch black inside the cabin.

"Dean! I'm scared," Sam cried as he clutched onto his brother tightly.

"It's okay, Sam. The generator must have run out of gas or something."

"I want Daddy," Sam sobbed.

Dean wanted his daddy, too, but he knew he couldn't let Sam see how scared he really was. "He'll be back soon, Sammy. And he'll fix the generator."

"It's too dark, Dean! I can't see anything!"

Dean tried to calm his brother down, but it wasn't working. He could feel panic building inside his own chest, so he made himself stop and take in some deep breaths just like his dad always told him. After half a minute of deep breathing, Dean was surprised that he was starting to feel better. "Listen, Sam… I need to go get the flashlight, okay? I think the last time I saw it, it was on the table."

"Don't leave me, Dean!" Sam wailed. Dean felt bad that his little brother was so overcome by fear.

"It's okay. I won't leave you, okay? You can come with me." He felt Sam's grip tighten on his arm as he stood up. Without even thinking about it, Dean leaned down and picked Sam up, tucking him onto his hip. Sam wrapped his arms around his brother tightly.

Dean hadn't even taken one step when it happened. He was just about to make his way to the table to grab the flashlight when there was a sudden thud on the front porch, followed by the sound of something scratching at the door.

Author's note: Oops! Sorry about the little cliff hanger at the end. That might have been a little mean of me, right? And now, poor sick Dean is having to protect his little brother from some unknown entity. Damn John Winchester for leaving his boys alone like that!

Thanks so much for reading, y'all. I hope you all know how much I appreciate that and how much I appreciate those of you who take the time to review. You're all awesome.

On a completely different note….. the SPN Las Vegas convention is in 17 days. Anyone going to it?