Raising Winchesters

Chapter 13

Dean wouldn't ever admit it, but he was scared to death. The dark cabin was scary enough on its own, but now there was something prowling out on the porch and he didn't know what to do. Sam was crying loudly and hanging onto Dean as if his life depended on it. Dean tried to move, wanting to go and double check that the door was truly locked, but with Sam glued to his side, he found it nearly impossible.

"Sam, let go of me," Dean said as he tried to pry his brother from his side.

"NOOOO!" Sam tightened his grasp even more as he buried his face in Dean's shirt.

"Sam! I need to check the door." After a struggle, Dean was finally able to pry Sam off of him. "Stay here," he said as he led Sam over to the couch.

Picking the gun up, he placed his finger on the safety, ready to switch it over if he needed to. Once he felt like he was ready, he stepped closer to the door, stopping every other step to listen for any sounds coming from the porch. He was two feet away from the door when he heard it again. The sound of something scratching on the door followed by the sound of something snuffling.

Dean's hands were sweating, but he held tightly onto the gun, just like he'd been taught. Taking the last few steps to the door, he checked the doorknob, making sure that it was indeed locked. He let out a deep breath when he confirmed that it was. Unfortunately, the deep breath he let out set off a furious bout of scratching from whatever was on the porch.

Dean didn't waste any time getting back over to the couch. He could feel his heart pounding painfully, both in his chest and in his head, and he was pretty sure he was going to throw up. Taking a few more deep breaths, he sat down on the couch and pulled Sam into his side. Feeling Sam's whole body trembling, Dean pulled him up onto his lap, making sure to keep his right arm free in order to hold the gun.

"What is it, Dean? What's out there?" Sam asked as the scratching continued.

"I don't know, but it can't get in here, okay? The doors are locked."

Just as Dean said that, they heard another sound coming from the roof. Sam started crying again and Dean really wanted to join him, but he didn't. He knew that if he showed how scared he really was, Sam would completely freak out. As it was, he was already close to completely freaking out anyway.

"I want Daddy," Sam sobbed.

Dean could tell that his little brother was getting to that point of crying so hard that he would probably throw up and he knew he needed to calm him down. "Dad will be back soon, Sammy," he croaked. "I promise."

They sat there for several minutes, listening to the scratching at the door and the sound of something heavy walking on the cabin roof. Dean's eyes darted from the front door to the window to the back door and then back again, and he listened closely for any new sounds or any change in what they were already hearing. His left arm was wrapped tightly around his brother and his right arm was extended outward, his fingers clutching the gun, ready to shoot first and ask questions later, if he had to.

Dean had no idea how long they sat that way, but it felt like hours. His throat was burning, his head was pounding, and he suddenly started feeling a tightness in his chest. Fighting off the urge to cough, Dean started taking in deep breaths through his nose and then exhaling through his mouth. He was relieved when the tightness in his chest started to dissipate.

Another few minutes went by before Sam suddenly declared that he needed to go to the bathroom. Dean didn't want to leave the living room, so he told Sam he'd have to wait for a little bit. Sam didn't really want to venture into the dark cabin, either, so he didn't argue.

Almost an hour later, both Sam and Dean had dozed off on the small couch. It was way past Sam's normal bedtime and both boys were tired from the excitement of the evening, so they fell asleep relatively easily, much to Dean's surprise.

Because they were both asleep, they didn't hear the sound of the Impala pulling up to the cabin. If they had heard it, Dean wouldn't have found himself in the world of trouble he was suddenly in.

John Winchester was in a really bad mood. He was exhausted after having driven all day to get to the cabin and he was angry at Dean for not telling him earlier that he was sick. The trip to the store had taken longer than it should because halfway there, the Impala blew a tire. John spent almost twenty minutes in the pouring rain changing out the tire. And once he got to the small country store, he had to wait while the owner looked through their new shipment for Children's Cough and Cold medicine. Luckily, the man found it, because John was growing more and more impatient.

When he pulled up to the cabin, he was surprised to see that the lights were off. He thought he could make out the barest of lights, probably from the fire he'd started in the fireplace before he left, but the rest of the cabin was completely dark.

Grabbing the bag of medicine from the passenger seat, John opened the door and stepped out. The dark clouds covered the half-moon, making it so dark that he couldn't see more than a few feet in front of him. Just as he was a few steps away from the cabin, he heard something rustling in a nearby bush. Grabbing his flashlight out of his pocket, he swept it over to the side, looking for whatever it was that made the sound. When he didn't see anything, he turned back to the cabin, anxious to check on the boys.

He was just about to unlock the door when he heard something scrambling on the roof. Quickly backing up, he moved his flashlight up to the roof, sweeping it back and forth. He didn't see anything at first, but just as he was about to turn back, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning towards the movement, he saw something scurry into the trees. He could just barely make out the shape of what looked like a large cat, but before he could do anything, the creature was gone out of sight.

He watched the trees for several more minutes before finally turning back to the cabin. His heart was pounding and his hands were sweating as he put the key in the lock and turned the knob. He was so caught up in trying to figure out what the creature was that he didn't think to call out to Dean before opening the door. He realized quickly what a rookie mistake that was.

Dean woke up to find that he was still holding tightly onto his little brother. He wasn't sure what woke him up and he was a little confused at first, but it only took him a few seconds to remember everything. He tried to sit up without disturbing Sam too much and once he was able to move a little more freely, he sat up and listened.

At first, he didn't hear anything, and he wondered if whatever was on the roof and porch had gone away. Eventually, though, he heard whatever it was on the roof scurrying away. Dean closed his eyes and wished with everything he had that his dad would show up and make everything okay.

He was just about to sit back on the couch when he heard something messing with the doorknob. With his heart racing, Dean stood up and readied himself, his index finger switching the safety off on the gun and his right arm bringing the gun up in front of him. He was barely breathing and it felt like everything was happening in slow motion as he watched the doorknob slowly turning and the door edging open.

Everything he had learned from his father flashed through his mind….. never point a gun at anything you're not willing to shoot and kill….. shoot first, ask questions later… be ready for anything.

He watched as the door opened further and all he saw was the dark outline of a large shape. Without another thought, Dean steadied himself and squeezed the trigger, rocking back slightly at the recoil. He quickly steadied himself again, in case he needed to shoot again, and suddenly, several things seemed to happen all at once. Dean watched as the dark shape suddenly fell to the floor. He heard Sam waking up, crying at the obvious shock of having a gun go off so close to him. At the same time, he heard someone calling his name. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was hearing his dad's voice calling him and at the same time, he watched as the shape on the floor stood up and changed into the familiar form of John Winchester.

"Damn it, Dean! What the hell are you doing?! You could've killed me!"

Dean stood still- not moving, not breathing, at all- his mind still trying to wrap itself around the thought that he had almost killed his dad. He looked from the man standing in front of him to the large divot of wood that was missing from the door frame, just inches away from where his dad had been standing. He had yet to utter a single word and his whole body was trembling.

John seemed to finally realize that Dean was in a state of shock and he moved to his son as fast as he could. He pulled Dean into his chest, not surprised by the trembling he felt. If John were honest with himself, he'd admit that he was trembling just as much.

"Hey. Hey, Dean….it's okay. I'm okay."

Dean suddenly grabbed onto John and buried his face in his shirt, leading John to clutch him even tighter. "Son, it's okay. You're okay."

Dean shuddered and suddenly started sobbing. "I'm sorry, Dad," he cried. "I'm sorry."

John tried to reassure his son that everything was okay, but Dean wasn't ready to hear anything he was saying. Eventually, John realized that Sam was crying, too, and he reached one arm out for his youngest. Sam didn't waste any time in jumping into his father's arm. John felt a wave of guilt course through him at the realization of how scared both of his sons were.

After several minutes of the group hug, John moved over to the couch and sat down, settling one boy on each side of him. They sat there for a long time. Sam eventually fell back to sleep, but John could tell that Dean was still awake. He listened as the boy's breathing evened out a little and the trembling lessened. After giving him a few more minutes, he finally figured it was time to get some answers.

He took a few minutes to settle Sam into the corner of the couch and then turned his body a little so he was facing Dean.

"Hey, Dean…. talk to me, son."

Dean looked up, but still didn't look directly up at his dad. Instead, he seemed to fix his eyes on John's neck. He took several deep breaths and was finally able to gather some strength to talk.

"The lights went out," he said simply, his voice quivering slightly. "Sam was scared, so I was trying to find my flashlight. I thought if I could find it, I could read Sam a story or something. Then, he'd feel better." Dean hesitated and John just let him take time to gather his thoughts. After almost a minute, he continued. "Then we heard something out on the porch. It was scratching on the door and I didn't know what to do, Dad. Sam was really scared."

John knew that Dean must have been scared, too, but he didn't say anything.

"Then we heard something else on the roof. It sounded like something really big. It stayed up there for a long time and Sam and I fell asleep. When I woke up, I heard something trying to get in. I saw the doorknob turning. And I did what you told me to do, Dad. I shot first. But, I didn't know it was you, I swear. I didn't know."

"I know you didn't, son. And I'm not mad at you. I shouldn't have yelled at you, but you just scared the hell outta me."

"I'm sorry," Dean repeated for what must have been at least the tenth time.

"I know you are, Dean, but you don't need to be. You did what I trained you to do and I'm proud of you for that. I should have told you it was me coming in the door. It's my fault, not yours."

Dean snuggled into John a little more. He had no idea how to answer his dad, so he just kept quiet. He was starting to feel tired again and his throat was still hurting. John must have noticed how he was swallowing painfully, because he suddenly stood up.

"I think the generator is out of gas, so I'll deal with that in the morning. For now, let's get some medicine in you and get to bed. It's been a long day." He rifled through the pharmacy bag, pulling out the medicine Dean needed. After getting a glass of water from the kitchen, he watched as Dean struggled to get the medications down. Once Dean was finished, John made a loop around the small cabin, making sure that the salt lines were intact and the doors and windows were locked. Once he was done with that, John picked Sam up, grabbed Dean gently by the arm, and headed towards the bedroom. After he saw the state of the first bedroom, he led the boys into the cleaner bedroom.

"Looks like you're gonna have to bunk with your old man tonight, Dean."

He pulled the blankets back on the bed and placed Sam down on the side up against the wall. Dean climbed in next to his brother, thankful to finally be able to lay down. John took off his boots and changed out of his pants into a pair of sweatpants before climbing in next to Dean. He was just about to fall asleep when Dean's croaking voice broke the silence.

"What do you think that was on the porch, Dad? And on the roof."

John wanted to know that himself. "I really don't know, but we'll figure it out tomorrow. For now, the doors and windows are locked and salted, so we're safe. Get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay." Dean answered. "Good night, Dad."

John listened as Dean's breathing evened out again. He wanted desperately to sleep himself, but he couldn't. Instead, he lay there for hours, listening to Dean trying to breathe through a newly stuffed nose and to Sam's gentle snoring.

Author's note: I hope this chapter doesn't feel a little rushed. I'm leaving in the morning for the SPN Las Vegas convention and I really wanted to get a chapter out first. Let me know if you find any glaring plot or grammatical errors.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I hope you're all doing okay in the wake of the sad Supernatural news. Hang in there and just keep reminding yourselves that this fandom will never end.