Raising Winchesters
Chapter 18
They stopped for gas three more times on the way to Bobby's. Sam and Dean slept through the first stop, but the second and third stop were bathroom breaks for the two boys. The first time they went to the bathroom, John went with them, trying to hurry them along as much as he could. The second time, though, John sent them off by themselves while he checked the air in the Impala's tires.
Dean grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him to the bathroom as quickly as he could. His need for the bathroom outweighed his desire to not look like a little kid who was about to pee his pants. Luckily, Sam had to go, too, so he didn't try to slow his brother down.
Dean was hoping that the bathroom was a one stall bathroom with a lock on the door, but it wasn't. Stepping into the bathroom, he noticed that there were three urinals against the wall and three separate stalls. One of the stalls seemed to be occupied, so Dean ushered Sam into one stall before ducking into the other.
By the time he finished, Sam was already done and was at the sink, trying to turn the water on. He was having a hard time reaching the faucet, so Dean turned the water on before picking Sam up and holding him up to the sink.
After Sam was done, Dean washed his own hands, too. Just as they were about to leave, the other stall door opened and a man walked out. He was a tall, thin man and he had the most intense silver eyes Dean had ever seen. Dean was surprised to see the man staring at him so intensely, his gaze never leaving Dean's face as he walked over to the sink. Dean could feel his skin begin to crawl and he quickly pushed Sam behind him and towards the door.
"Let's go, Sam," he said quietly.
Sam hadn't noticed the strange man, at first, but he looked up when he heard the strange tone of Dean's voice. Dean turned and tried to push him forward, but the man suddenly reached out and grabbed Dean's arm.
"Let go of me," Dean cried, trying to yank his arm out of the man's grasp. The man only gripped his arm tighter, though.
"You shouldn't have done it," the man said as he stared at Dean. "You shouldn't have killed them."
"I didn't kill anybody," Dean yelled almost hysterically. His eyes were filled with tears and his whole body was shaking.
"You don't know what you've done, but you'll pay for it. Mark my word."
Dean pleaded with the man to let him go, the tears finally liberated from his eyes and streaming down his face. At the same time, Sam started pulling on Dean, trying to wrench him away from the strange man. Unfortunately, the man was stronger than both of them combined and his hand continued to grip Dean's arm to the point of making Dean's fingers feel numb and tingly.
By this time, Sam was crying, too, fear and desperation emanating off of his small body in waves. He kicked at the man and screamed at him to let go of his brother, but the man didn't even seem to notice him. Instead, the man's silver eyes bore into Dean's, making him wonder if the man was some kind of monster or witch. Or something equally as bad.
Just as suddenly as the man had grabbed Dean's arm, he let go of it. Sam and Dean had both been trying to pull Dean's arm away from the man's grip, so when he was no longer gripping, they both fell backwards and onto the floor. Dean scrambled backwards, practically moving himself on top of his brother, as the man stepped forward. Dean thought he was about to be grabbed again, but instead, the man just leaned forward and spoke directly to him.
"You have unsettled the balance of our world and for that you will pay. No life can be taken without retribution. Your day of reckoning will come, Dean Winchester."
With that, the man moved back into the stall he had come out of. In that exact moment, John bowled through the door, gun drawn and eyes dancing quickly over the scene before him. He had heard his boys screaming and had responded as fast as he could, his heart pounding in his chest with each step he took.
"Dean! Sam! What happened?!"
Dean and Sam were hanging onto each other, both staring wildly at the bathroom stall. It took them several seconds to realize that their dad was there and several more seconds to realize that the man wasn't coming back out.
"He g-grabbed my arm, Dad, and he w-wouldn't let go," Dean finally stammered out.
"Who?" John asked as he looked around the small bathroom. "Where did he go?"
Dean lifted his arm and pointed to the bathroom stall and then let it drop back to his lap as he watched John step forward to check it out. John thought that Dean looked like he might be in shock, but he didn't have time to stop and check on him. He needed to figure out what had his boys so freaked out in the first place.
Once he reached the bathroom stall, John kicked the door in, expecting to hear it slam against whoever was in the stall. There wasn't any way the man could have escaped without passing through John, but the door slammed open without colliding with anyone. The man was nowhere to be found.
John turned around and checked the other two stalls, not really expecting to find anything. Whoever the man was, he was no longer around.
"Where is he, Dad?" Dean asked with a shaky voice.
"He's gone," John replied as he knelt down by his sons.
"He c-can't be! I saw him go into that stall and he never came out. Where did he go?"
John could feel the panic building in his oldest son and could tell that Sam wasn't too far behind. He really needed to curb the panic before it got out of control. "Let's go," he said as he picked Sam up off the floor and grabbed Dean's hand to pull him up. He could tell that Dean was shaking all over, so he put his arm around the kid's shoulder and held him close. Dean hadn't said anything else and Sam had been completely quiet ever since John burst through the doors.
Stepping out of the bathroom, John noticed that a small crowd had formed, waiting to see what was going on. He didn't hesitate as he walked the boys past the crowd and to the Impala. Once he had them in the backseat of the car, he looked them each over from head to toe, checking for any visible wounds or injuries. He knew that the psychological and emotional trauma would have to be dealt with, too, but he needed to take care of the physical aspect first.
"Are you hurt anywhere, Sam?" he asked his youngest who was still crying softly. It nearly broke John's heart to see the big tears on the small face, but there was another part of him that wanted to tell Sam to get his emotions under control. He knew he wasn't being fair to the seven-year-old, but he didn't really have time to deal with tears.
Sam shook his head no to John's question and after he had checked the boy over thoroughly, John told him firmly to stop crying. "You're not hurt, Sam, so it's time to stop crying."
Dean didn't take too well to his dad telling Sam to stop crying. "He's scared, Dad," he said in defense of his brother.
"He's not a baby, Dean. He needs to learn to control his emotions." John turned back to Sam, who had moved a little closer to his brother. "Deep breaths, Sam, and pull yourself together."
Sam didn't really know what his dad meant by "pull yourself together," but he tried to stop crying. Eventually, his tears stopped and his breathing slowed down and only had an occasional hitch in it.
Once John was satisfied that Sam was coping better with the situation, he turned his attention to Dean. "What about you, Dean? Are you hurt?"
Dean hesitated long enough for John to get suspicious, but eventually he answered. "No, sir. I'm okay."
John didn't seem to believe the kid, so he did a quick check for any injuries by running his hands up and down Dean's body. He didn't miss the hiss of pain that escaped Dean's mouth when his hands moved over his right arm. He also noticed that Dean was holding his arm somewhat protectively against his stomach. Holding his arm gently, he pushed up the sleeve, immediately noticing the large area of redness and discoloration that would soon be an impressive bruise.
"How bad does your arm hurt?" he asked after a few minutes.
"It doesn't hurt," Dean answered quietly.
"Dean, don't lie to me. I can tell it does hurt, so you need to answer my question. How bad does it hurt?"
"A little," Dean finally replied.
"Wiggle your fingers for me," John ordered. "Does that hurt?"
"Yes, sir."
"Now move your wrist back and forth? Does it hurt?"
Dean winced as he moved his wrist back and forth and then up and down. "Yes, sir."
John prodded the arm a little more before deciding that it wasn't broken. "I think it's just bruised, son. This time tomorrow, it'll probably look pretty bad. I'll run in and get some ice for it," John said after a small pause.
"No, Daddy! Don't leave us! What if he comes back?!"
John was surprised to hear Dean call him Daddy, since it had been years since the moniker had been shortened to just Dad. He was also surprised at how stupid he was for thinking it was okay to leave Sam and Dean alone while he ran into the store. Not for the first time, he was convinced that he wasn't cut out to be a father. Well, at least a good father.
"Okay, okay…. I'm not going to leave you, Dean. I'm right here."
Dean settled back against the seat and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the seat. He was suddenly so exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. He only kept his eyes closed for a few seconds, though, before opening them again and looking up at his dad to see what he was doing.
John grabbed a blanket off the floorboards and draped it across his two boys. Once they were settled, he climbed back into the driver's seat and started the car. He knew that there were still people lingering around, wondering what had happened in the bathroom, but he didn't care. He needed to get his boys out of the area before something else happened.
"Okay, listen up, boys…. We're leaving, but at the next town, I'm going to stop at a drive-thru somewhere. We can pick up something to eat and drink and I can get some ice for your arm, Dean. Okay?"
"Yes, sir," Dean answered, back to his soldierly responses. Once they were on the road, Dean closed his eyes again, allowing himself to relax as much as he could. Sam was leaning up against his side and with his one good arm, Dean was holding onto him tightly. It wasn't long before the recent events won out over their mutual desire to not fall asleep, and within ten minutes they were both fast asleep.
John, however, felt like he'd never sleep again.
By the time they arrived at Singer Salvage, John was exhausted. He had driven almost straight through the next four hours, stopping only to run through a McDonald's drive-thru for food, drinks, and ice for Dean's arm. The boys woke up enough to eat their food and drink something before falling back to sleep. John had rigged a small sling for Dean to rest his arm in and made him take a few Tylenol for the pain. He was happy to see the boys fall back into what looked like a peaceful slumber.
Sam and Dean were both relieved when they woke up to find they were at their Uncle Bobby's. John hadn't been forthcoming about where they were going, so they both figured they'd be staying in another crappy motel in some other crappy little town. Being at Bobby's was a thousand times better.
Bobby greeted them with a solemn look, having been informed already of what had occurred. He took several minutes to look both boys over for himself and made sure to get Dean some fresh ice before the boys settled down for the rest of the night. He was just about to usher the boys up to the room they shared whenever they were there, but John had other ideas.
"Wait a minute. We need to talk for a few minutes before you boys go to bed."
"John, this can wait till morning. The boys are exhausted."
"They slept most of the way here, Bobby. And I still have no idea what happened other than the fact that a man assaulted Dean in some dirty gas station bathroom. I can't wait any longer."
Bobby wanted to argue with John, but knew better than to do that at the moment. "Fine. Let's sit at the table and get to talking, then. Are you boys thirsty?"
Sam immediately answered yes and Dean nodded his head. A minute later, there were two glasses of juice sitting in front of them and two cups of coffee for the older hunters. Once they were all settled, all of the attention was turned onto Dean.
"Okay, start from the beginning, Dean."
By the time Dean and Sam were through reliving the nightmare that had taken place just hours before, the night sky was starting to grow lighter. Both boys were answering question after question, and once they were done, they both were shaking again.
"So you're sure you've never seen this guy before?" Bobby asked.
"Never," Dean answered.
"And he didn't tell you what he wanted from you?" Bobby knew he was asking redundant questions, but he was desperate to find out anything he could.
"No, sir. He just said that I shouldn't have done it. That I shouldn't have killed them. And he said…"
"He said what, Dean…." Bobby prompted.
"He s-said I'd p-pay for it," Dean replied, his breath hitching painfully in his chest.
John and Bobby shared a long look, but eventually looked back at the boys. "Can you describe him to me?" Bobby asked, wondering how much of a description Dean could actually give since he'd been terrified. Bobby suddenly remembered the time he'd spent the summer before teaching both Sam and Dean the finer art of observation. Dean had shown great potential with his training, but so had Sam. For such a young child, Sam had been rather adept at paying attention.
But neither boy had much to say this time.
"I don't know," Dean said. "I think he had hair like yours, Uncle Bobby. Kinda brown, kinda gray. And not a lot on top. Oh, and he had crazy eyes!"
"What do you mean by crazy eyes, Dean?"
"They were scary."
"What color were they? Were they black?"
"They were grey, I think."
Suddenly, Sam sat straight up in his chair. "No, they weren't," he argued.
"Yes, they were, Sammy," Dean argued back.
"Dean, they weren't gray. They were silver, remember? Like the tin….the tin….um, like that stuff we put on the Christmas tree."
"The tinsel?" Dean offered.
"Yeah, like the tinsel. They glowed in the light, remember?"
Neither of the older hunters knew if Sam was talking about the man's eyes glowing or the remembered tinsel on the tree. Either way, silver eyes were rare and could definitely help narrow down the suspect pool.
Sam suddenly sat up straighter in his chair, obviously not done yet. "And his eyes were the same as that other man's, remember, Dean?"
"What other man?" John asked in confusion.
"The one at the diner, Daddy. Remember, I told you there was a man staring at Dean?"
"Was it the same man?"
"I don't think so," Dean responded. "The other man's hair was different and I don't think he was as tall.
"So, there are two of these men, John?"
"Sounds like at least two, doesn't it?"
"This just keeps getting better and better."
After going over the events two more times with Sam and Dean, John ushered them upstairs. He would usually tell them to get washed up before going to bed, but he didn't think skipping one night would be harmful. The boys quickly kicked off their shoes and climbed into the bed. And both of them were asleep within seconds.
Back in the kitchen, John sat staring into his cup of coffee, wishing that it was something infinitely stronger. He felt like he needed something to take the edge off.
"What do you think?" he finally asked.
"I don't know, John. I can't think of anything off the top of my head that fits the description, can you?"
"Not a thing," John admitted. "I guess we're going to have to dig deep to find something, right?"
"Sounds like it. In the meantime, you need to talk to your boys, John. They're hanging on by a thread, right now, and they're just about to unravel."
"They're fine," John answered. "Sam didn't have a single mark on him anywhere and Dean's arm is already looking better."
"You know damn well I'm not talking about their physical well-being, Winchester," Bobby growled.
John growled right back. "Sam and Dean are fine. They know not to let their emotions get the better of them."
"They're seven and eleven years old, John. They've just been assaulted and nearly kidnapped. They're scared out of their minds, mark my word."
"I'll have a talk with them, Bobby. But, for now we need to get going on some research and figure this out before that man or someone else like him decides to pay us another visit."
"Okay. Let's get on with it. We can't waste any time with this."
Without another word between them, they stood up, grabbed their coffee, and headed into Bobby's library. Both men vowed then and there that nothing was going to happen to Sam and Dean, as long as they were around.
Author's note: Thank you all for reading and (hopefully) reviewing. These stories I'm writing are definitely a labor of love and I truly appreciate you all. Your presence and your feedback are always greatly appreciated. Take care.