Raising Winchesters

Chapter 20

After John was finished dealing with Dean's misbehavior, he left him in his room to take a nap and went down to check on Sam. He felt completely depleted, not only because he just had to punish his son and still had another one to deal with, too, but because it seemed like his family could never seem to catch a break.

They never seemed to be able to go one single day without something- some chaos or some evil- wreaking havoc on them. All he asked for was one single day of normal, but he knew that was too much for him to ask. Too much for a Winchester to ask.

Contrary to popular belief, he hated the catastrophe that had become his life. Although there was a part of him that got a thrill from hunting, a part of him that thrived on the adrenaline of taking out some evil, monstrous being, he wished that he could live a normal life. For his boys' sakes.

He wished that he could buy a house and settle down. He wished that he could coach Dean's Little League baseball team or lead Sam's Boy Scout pack. He wished he could worry about the weeds growing in his grass or the gutters that needed to be cleaned out before the next rainy season started. And he wished he had time to teach Dean how to mow the grass or grill burgers or show Sam how to fix a garbage disposal.

Instead, he was having to teach his boys how to clean and shoot guns and how to salt the doors and windows to keep the evil out. He was having to uproot his boys every few months, before they ever had a chance to feel settled in anywhere. He had to treat Dean like he was so much older than he was, putting more responsibility on the boy's young shoulders than he ever had any right to. He had to be tough and unyielding in order to keep his boys safe. And he hated that. He hated it with every fiber of his being.

He knew that Sam and Dean weren't really scared of him, but they did have a strong healthy fear of him. He was tough on them, expecting them to do what they were told without question. He expected obedience and respect and the boys knew it. And they knew what to expect when they screwed up. If he didn't follow through with his part of it all, if he let them get away with things, he would be confusing them and letting them down.

John knew that Bobby thought he was too hard on Sam and Dean, but he also knew that in certain situations, the man agreed completely with his version of discipline. And this was one of those times. He could tell by the look on Bobby's face earlier that the man was about ready to turn both boys over his knee, too. And there was a part of him that wished he could have let the man take over and give him a break from the challenge that was being the father of two Winchesters.

Walking into the living room, John wasn't surprised to see Sam sitting up on the couch, his leg propped up on the pillow, and tears spilling down his face. He knew that Bobby and Sam could hear the sounds coming from upstairs and he knew that Sam hated to listen to his brother being punished. He couldn't help but feel guilty, but he knew that he did what he had to do.

"Hey, Sammy." John gently picked up Sam's legs and slid in underneath them. Once he was settled, he put Sam's legs down across his own legs. "How are you feeling?"

"My leg hurts." Sam wiped the tears from his face and glanced over to the stairs. John knew that what he really wanted was to go upstairs and check on his brother.

"He's fine, Sammy," John said. "A little upset, but he's fine." John was surprised to see more tears falling down the boy's face.

"You s-spanked h-him."

"Yes, I did. Dean knew better than to play on those tires, Sam. He knew what would happen if you got caught."

"But, he wasn't playing on the tires, Daddy!"

John eyed Sam closely. "What do you mean?"

"Dean wasn't playing. He was trying to save me."

"He wouldn't have had to save you if the two of you weren't playing on them in the first place, Sam."

"It's my fault," Sam cried. "I was playing on them. Dean didn't know until he saw me."

John cursed under his breath, a new spike of anger surging through him at the thought of Dean lying to him to protect his brother from getting into trouble. Again. He really needed to talk to the boy about that.

"So, Dean lied about that. He said it was his idea."

Sam nodded his head and stared down at his leg.

"And you let him? Even though you knew he was going to get in trouble?"

Sam started crying even harder at John's words. "He t-told me to, Daddy. He said he was already in trouble because he didn't come and get you when he saw I was stuck. H-He said he d-didn't want me to get in more trouble because you were still m-mad at me for leaving the cabin."

Sam was crying so hard that John was having a hard time understanding everything he was saying. But he got the gist of it. And just like he thought, Dean was trying to protect his brother.

"Sam, this has to stop, you hear me? If you do something wrong, you have to be man enough to own up to it. You can't let your brother keep taking the blame for you."

"I'm sorry! I was scared, Daddy! You and Uncle Bobby were so mad!"

"Yeah, well, your brother was punished for something he didn't do. How do you think he feels about that? How do you think I feel about that?"

Sam didn't answer at first, but after several long seconds, he muttered another "I'm sorry."

"I know you're sorry, but that doesn't cut it, Sam. You're a Winchester and Winchesters don't hide from their trouble. That's a lesson you need to learn and you need to learn it quick. Understand?"

"Yes, Daddy… um, I mean… yes, sir."

John reached over and placed a finger under Sam's chin, pushing it up slightly so he could see the boy's face. "Look at me, Sam." When Sam finally looked up, John continued. "This ends now, understand? No more letting Dean take the blame for you when you do something wrong."

John knew that it wouldn't be the last time Dean took the blame for his brother, but he also knew that Sam wouldn't be so quick to let it happen again in the future. Sam hated knowing that his brother was punished and he hated it even more knowing that he was being punished unfairly. "Okay, well…. we'll be talking about this more tomorrow when it's time for your punishment."

"Okay," Sam answered sadly. John was about to get up and get back to his researching, when Sam stopped him. "Can I go upstairs?" he asked.

John almost told him no, since being confined to the bedroom alone was part of Dean's punishment, but he could tell that Sam was tired and worried about his brother. He could also do without having to worry about Sam, so he gave in. "Okay, but Dean's being punished, so no playing games or anything. He's supposed to be sleeping and I expect you to take a nap, too."

"Okay." Sam agreed without hesitation, and a few seconds later, John gathered him up in his arms and headed upstairs.

Upon entering the room, they could both tell that Dean was asleep. Sam immediately noticed the tear tracks on his brother's face and he felt his eyes well up with his own tears again. John didn't waste any time and quickly laid Sam down on the bed next to his brother. After making sure he was settled and comfortable, he gave him a quick kiss on the top of the head. "No getting up without me, Sam. Got it?"

Sam nodded his head as a big yawn overtook him.

"Okay, I'll come wake you boys up when dinner is ready." With that, John turned and walked out of the room. He looked back one last time to find Sam snuggling a little closer to Dean and Dean shifting over slightly towards his brother.

Once he was back downstairs, John poured himself a glass of whiskey and joined Bobby in the study. He knew that the man was dying to know how the boys were doing, so he quickly put him out of his misery. "They're fine, Singer. Both of them are probably sound asleep by now. And no, I wasn't too hard on Dean. The sting in his backside will be gone by the time he wakes up."

"Can't believe the boy still played on the tires after my last warning," Bobby growled.

"About that…. Apparently, he didn't. Sam said that he was the one playing on the tires and Dean tried to make him stop. Dean only climbed on the tires to help his brother."

"Damn it!" Bobby swore. "That kid has no self-preservation tendencies at all, does he?"

"Not when it comes to something involving his brother. I guess that's my fault, isn't it? All he ever hears is 'watch out for Sammy.' He's just doing what he's trained to do, I guess."

"He needs to learn when it's the right time to do that, though."

"I've had that talk with him a few times already. I guess I need to have it again. Anyway, find anything while I was gone?"

"Yes, in fact. Do you remember that professor that helped us out on the Sisemite thing a few years ago? Something I read in one of my books made me think that he might be about to help us, so I gave him a call. He said he might have an idea and he's sending us some information. I need to head over to the library and pick up a fax."

"What does he think it is?" John asked immediately, not wanting to have to wait for Bobby's field trip to the library.

"He thinks it's a Nagual. There are multiple versions of what a Nagual actually is and as far as I know, no hunter has ever come across one. But, he seemed pretty interested when I told him what we were up against."

"A Nagual. I've never heard of it before."

"I hadn't either," Bobby explained. "Professor Tochtli said that MesoAmerican Indians believed that the nagual is a man that can transform himself into an animal. More specifically, the nagual is the animal that a man transforms into. He said some people believe that the men are sorcerers or witches. Others believe that the nagual is a personal guardian spirit that resides in an animal. They are mostly believed to be harmless, but there are stories that say that in order to become a nagual you have to do a pact with the devil."

"That doesn't sound harmless."

"Either way, we'll know more when I get that fax, so I'm going to head out. How about if I bring some pizza home with me." Bobby knew that Dean loved pizza and John knew that he suggested pizza because of that. He also knew that Bobby would probably find some pie to bring home, too.

"Pizza sounds good," he answered.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." With that, Bobby turned around and walked out of the library, leaving John to stare at all the open books around the room. Without anything else to do, John grabbed a book and sat down to do some more research.

Dean woke up to find Sam lying next to him, sound asleep. He laughed at the small stream of drool that was making its way down his brother's chin until he saw that the drool was landing on his pillow. Regardless of how disgusting that was, though, Dean didn't wake his brother up.

Rolling over, he was surprised to see that the sting he'd felt in his backside as he fell asleep was no longer there. He groaned at the memory of that had happened as he sat on the edge of the bed. He really didn't know what to do because he wasn't really sure if he was allowed to leave the bedroom and he really didn't want to face his dad at the moment. Or Uncle Bobby.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he heard a tapping sound coming from over by the window. As he looked over, he was surprised to see a rather large black bird sitting on the window ledge, tapping its long beak against the window. He had no idea what kind of bird it was, just that it was really big and scary looking.

It also freaked him out a little because it looked like the bird was staring at him.

After a few minutes of watching the bird tapping the window, Dean stood up and walked across the room. He expected he bird to fly away once he got closer, but it didn't. Instead, it just continued to stare at him as it tapped away.

Dean had no idea how long he stood there, watching the bird. It could have been mere minutes or long hours. It wasn't until he noticed that the bird's beak seemed to be bleeding that he started to think that something wasn't right. Despite the bleeding, the bird never stopped tapping and never looked away from Dean.

Dean was just getting ready to call for his dad when the glass showed its first crack. It surprised him so much that he suddenly found it hard to move. In fact, he suddenly found that he couldn't move at all. At the same moment he realized that he was paralyzed, he heard Sam's sleepy voice behind him.

"Dean? What's going on?"

Dean tried to answer, but it was as if his vocal cords were paralyzed, too. He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest and he could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he breathed too fast, but he couldn't seem to move a single muscle of his own volition.

It didn't take Sam too long to figure out that something was wrong with Dean, thankfully. Despite the fact that his leg was still really hurting him and he could barely stand up, he climbed out of bed and moved towards the door. Once the door was open, he began screaming for his dad with everything he had in him.

John had just picked up his third book when he heard Sam screaming for him. He could tell immediately that it wasn't just an ordinary scream, like the one his son sometimes let out when Dean was teasing him or making him mad. No, this scream was a scream filled with terror and panic.

John was sure he'd never made it up the stairs as fast as he just did. He nearly ran into the hallway wall when he came out of the staircase and tried to go towards the boys' bedroom, but he miraculously kept his balance. His eyes widened at the abject look of fear on Sam's face when he saw him.

"Sam! What's wrong?"

Sam moved aside and John immediately ran into the room. It took him a full two seconds to comprehend what he was seeing and even then he didn't fully comprehend it. Dean was standing over by the window- ramrod straight and looking like he was completely frozen in place- and there was a large black bird tapping its beak violently against the window. He was surprised to see the cracked glass and the blood dripping from the bird's beak and it took him another few seconds to process the fact that the bird was going to break through the glass at any minute.

Pulling his gun out of his waistband, John yelled for Dean to move out of the way. He was surprised when Dean didn't even flinch. Not having any other choice, John pushed Dean aside and lifted the gun up, pointing it directly at the bird. Before he could even get a shot off, though, the bird suddenly flew away.

John stood there, staring at the window, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Eventually, the sounds of Sam saying Dean's name over and over again, pulled him out of whatever state he'd been in. He immediately moved over to where Dean had landed when he pushed him and knelt down next to the boy.

"Dean? Hey, look at me, son. Dean!" Dean seemed to be frozen, not even blinking his eyes as far as John could tell. John also noticed that his skin was cold and strangely clammy. "Dean!"

When Dean still didn't respond in any way, John started gently shaking him by the shoulders as he called his name. The shaking grew more and more intense with each passing second. He could hear Sam crying next to him and there was a part of him that wanted to join the boy because whatever state Dean was in was something John had never seen before and he was really starting to get worried.

"Watch out, Sammy. I'm going to put him on the bed." John reached under Dean's knees and lifted him up to his chest. Sam scrambled out of the way, allowing John to move Dean over to the bed. Once he laid the boy down, he pulled the blankets up almost to his neck. "Sam, go grab some more blankets."

Sam scrambled out of the room and returned less than a minute later with an armful of blankets. He helped his dad spread the blankets out over Dean, his hands shaking crazily. "What's wrong with him?" he asked with a voice as shaky as his hands. John could tell that the kid was barely holding it together.

"I don't know, Sammy. But, he'll be okay."

Sam didn't look like he believed his dad at all, and John didn't blame him. He wasn't really sure he believed himself.

Author's note: Whew! I'm a little tired after all of that, lol. And after the last few weeks I've had. As some of you already know, my youngest son wrecked (totaled) his car and then a week later had to have an emergency appendectomy. It's been two long weeks of dealing with insurance and hospitals/recovery. Just in case you were wondering why I was a little late in updating, that's why. ;)

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter. And what you think of the Nagual. Just so you know, the nagual is a real folklore. I'm just twisting it a little to fit my story, but most of what I've come up with can be found on the internet. Is it working for you all? And the Sisemite is supposedly real, too.

***Sisemite (pronounced see-see-mee-tay) is a shaggy, Bigfoot-like creature of the wilderness from Mayan folklore.