Raising Winchesters Chapter 31, a supernatural fanfic

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 31

Pulsatio et omnis spiritus diminuit.

Pulsatio et omnis spiritus diminuit.

Dean decided that dying wasn't so bad after all. Of course, he didn't actually decide that until the fiery pain he'd been feeling all over his body was suddenly gone. Now he just felt like he was floating in nothingness, his body as light as a feather and his mind comfortably numb. Wasn't that a song that his dad used to listen to all the time? Something about becoming comfortably numb?

This feeling of numbness brought with it a complete and total lack of caring. He didn't care that his body was dying. He didn't care that his dad and Uncle Bobby were going crazy trying to find a way to help him. He didn't care that Pastor Jim was pulling out all the stops, praying over him and even begging God to heal him. And for the first time in his life, he didn't even care that he wasn't able to watch out for Sammy.

It took energy he didn't have to care about a single thing, so he just floated. He couldn't tell if the feeling he felt was like floating on a cloud or floating in a huge pool of warm water. Dean remembered learning about the Dead Sea in the last school he'd gone to. He remembered his teacher explaining to the class that the sea's unusually high salt concentration meant that people were easily able to float, a natural buoyancy making it almost impossible to sink. He decided that he felt like he was actually floating in the Dead Sea at the moment.

If he really tried to, he could focus on what was happening outside of his body, but he was just so tired. He had been in so much pain for so long that he'd forgotten what it was like to not hurt. He'd forgotten what it was like to breathe easy. And even though he knew he wasn't actually breathing any easier, that in fact, he was still fighting for every breath, he couldn't bring himself to care.

He was tired. He was so tired, in fact, that he didn't mind dying. As he continued to float in nothingness and continued to ignore the sounds of the chaos that surrounded him, he began to think about what would happen if he died. Would he go to Heaven? Was Heaven even a real thing? Would he see the angels that were meant to protect him and Sammy? If so, he sure had a bone to pick with them about how well they did their job.

As he thought more and more about dying, he suddenly remembered the most important thing. Would he see his mother? Would she be waiting for him? Would she remember him?

Dean suddenly felt a sense of sadness wash over him. What if his mom was disappointed in him for all the mistakes he'd made? What if she was mad at him for not doing a better job of watching out for Sammy? What if she didn't love him anymore?

So many questions that were breaking his heart and suddenly he was afraid to die. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to live, to have a chance to do better, to be the boy his mom would want and expect him to be. He wanted a chance to be someone she could be proud of, someone she could love.

And just like that, all the pain and fear came rushing back in. Dean's whole body was on fire and there was so much pressure on his chest that he thought maybe his dad was sitting on him. His lungs couldn't seem to get enough air and his head and heart felt like they just might explode at any second.

There was an intense ringing in his ears that brought a rush of nausea to him and he suddenly felt his whole body begin to shake violently.

And then there was nothing at all.

Heartbeat and every breath diminishes.

John sat on the edge of Dean's bed, his eyes rarely leaving the boy's face. He wasn't sure exactly when it happened, but somewhere along the way, Dean's face had grown slack. At first, he thought it was a good sign, that maybe Dean was finally able to rest, but eventually he realized it for what it was. Dean's body was giving out. His boy was giving up, too weak to fight anymore.

Dean was dying and there wasn't anything he or anyone else could do about it. The simple truth was that they were out of time and he had failed. Anguish nearly bowled him over at the thought of failing his son so viciously and he could barely contain the anger and sadness that filled him.

What kind of a father was he? What kind of a father couldn't protect his own son? He'd spent the majority of his adult life saving others from the supernatural, but he couldn't save his own son. His own flesh and blood. What would Mary think about that?

Jim was sitting in the corner of the room, grasping a rosary and a Bible in his hands as he prayed for divine intervention. John wanted to yell at him to shut up, that it was obvious that no one was listening to his prayers, but he didn't. He couldn't fault the man for trying to save Dean in his own way. He couldn't fault Bobby for bringing in Stitch Mathison or Betsy Warren, either. They were all trying to save Dean. Last ditch efforts were better than nothing. And it seemed that it was more than he himself was doing.

John looked over at Sam, who was now back to laying on the bed next to Dean. He hadn't lasted longer than an hour in the other room before waking up and crying out for his brother. John noticed the tear tracks on Sam's little face and his heart broke all over again. How was he going to handle Sam if Dean didn't make it? How would they survive without Dean, who more often than not was the glue that held them all together? John wasn't sure that they could, actually.

Dean's breathing was just as labored as it had been, but there was a sense of peace surrounding the boy now. John knew what that meant. He knew that Dean was giving up, that he wasn't fighting anymore. And he couldn't help but me mad at the boy for that. Didn't Dean know that Winchesters never gave up? Didn't he know that Winchesters fought until they absolutely couldn't fight a single second more? Didn't he know that his dying also meant the death of his family?

"Damn it, Dean! You have to keep fighting, son. You can't give up on me!" John gathered Dean up into his arms, burying his face in the crook of his sweaty neck. Dean didn't smell like Dean anymore. He smelled like death and loss and failure. John suddenly found himself overwhelmed by tears.

Jim sat in the corner of the room, feeling helpless and hopeless. He was a man of faith and he knew that he wasn't truly hopeless, but it sure felt that way. Seeing Dean- a boy that was usually so vibrant and so full of life- in this current state was almost too much for him. He'd been a clergyman for many, many years and this wasn't the first time he'd sat at the bedside of a dying child. But this was different!

Dean Winchester wasn't supposed to die. Not like this. Jim didn't know how he knew that, but he did. God had plans for Dean and Jim was finding it hard to reconcile that idea with the events that were playing out in front of him. Dean was made for bigger things. Greater things.

As was Sammy.

There was something so special about the Winchester brothers. Something that brought hope to him and peace, in a way. Jim wasn't a true fan of the idea of destiny, but he knew that Sam and Dean were destined for great things.

And that's why he was having such a hard time dealing with everything. He knew that God had a plan for Dean, but he couldn't figure out how that plan included Dean dying right in front of them.

Jim grasped his grandmother's rosary in his right hand and his grandfather's bible in his left. He poured out his heart in prayer, praying for divine intervention and healing for Dean. He knew that he was annoying John with his incessant prayers, but he didn't care. He knew of no other way to help the small boy laying on the bed.

So he prayed. For John and Sam. For Bobby. For himself. And for Dean.

Bobby walked into the small bedroom, taking in the scene with one long glance. Jim was still in the corner, praying urgently for intervention. Sam was sleeping on the bed, obviously not in a peaceful way. Dean was currently being held in John's arms and the man was sobbing desperately as he held him.

Bobby had come to think of the Winchester family as his own through the years. While he felt like he could routinely wring John's neck, he had a great respect for the man who was trying his best to do what he thought he had to do while raising two young sons. And he loved Sam and Dean like they were his own. He would do absolutely anything for them and it was about time to prove just that.

He knew that Dean was dying and he knew they didn't have very much time left. Stitch Mathison had done everything he could for the boy and he was waiting downstairs, just in case he was needed again. Betsy Warren was off trying to find the woman that she thought could help with the spell. And every hunter that Bobby knew was currently looking for the shapeshifter that shared the spell with Dean. He had given them strict orders to bring the man in unharmed. They all knew that they would forfeit more than just Bobby Singer's respect if they failed to do just that.

Bobby had a plan of his own and was just about to explain it all to John, but seeing the man in his current state made him hold his tongue. Instead, he moved over to the corner of the room where Jim was and interrupted the man's prayers.

"Murphy, I'm going out for a little while. I'll be back as soon as I can, but I'll check in every thirty minutes or so. Can you watch the phones for me?"

Jim looked over at the small Winchester family, closed his eyes for several seconds, and then looked up at Bobby. "Okay," was all he said in reply. Bobby watched as Jim stood up and walked out the door. He made his way back over to the door, too, but stopped and looked back at the bed one last time. He knew this could be the last time he'd ever see Dean Winchester alive and it just about killed him to turn and walk away.

Sam wasn't really sure what was happening, but he knew that it was awful. He could tell by the way his dad was acting that something big was going on. Something really, really big. There was a small part of him that knew- deep, deep down inside- that his brother was in real trouble. Maybe he was too young to really understand the severity of it all, but he knew.

He hadn't really had a lot of experience with death in his young life. Of course, his mother had died, but he didn't really have any memories of her and didn't even know enough about what it was like to have a mother to miss having one. If that made any sense. He did remember Hammy, though.

Flashback 1988

Sam's first memorable experience with death was when he was in kindergarten. His class had a class hamster named Hammy and Sam had been picked to take Hammy home over a long weekend. John hadn't been happy about the whole thing because he didn't want his boys to be too distracted. He also said that it wasn't a good idea because of the fact that they might need to leave town suddenly. In fact, he was just about ready to drive Sam back to the school to return the hamster when Dean talked him out of it. Dean told their dad that he would make sure that Sam did all of his homework and did his chores before playing with Hammy. He also reminded the man that one of Sam's classmates lived just down the street and that if they had to leave suddenly, they could just drop the hamster off there. John reluctantly agreed, but only after telling Dean that his "butt would pay the price" if the hamster caused any kind of trouble.

Things went pretty smoothly until that Sunday night. Dean made sure that both he and Sam did all of their homework early on. In fact, they were both done by the time they went to bed on Friday night. The next morning, he woke Sam up early and prodded him to get his chores done. Luckily, there wasn't a whole lot to do in the small rental house they were staying in.

Dean spent the morning raking up the leaves in the small front yard and helping Sam put them all in a big garbage bag. Once that was done, they moved into the house to clean the bathroom and their bedroom. By noon, they were done with all their chores and they were finally able to play with Hammy.

At first, Dean didn't really see what all the fuss was about. He watched as Sam fed Hammy and then he watched as Hammy ran around a few times in the exercise wheel. After a few minutes of that, Hammy moved over to the corner of the cage and laid down. Dean grew bored rather fast and moved on to other things, while Sam sat next to Hammy's cage and read a book.

By that evening, Hammy was awake and becoming more active in his cage. John had left on a short hunt earlier that day, so Sam and Dean were stuck inside the house. Dean was laying on the couch, watching some old war movie when Sam brought Hammy over in his exercise ball.

"What's that?" Dean asked as he eyed the ball Sam was holding.

"It's called an exercise ball. Hammy is supposed to use it so he doesn't get too fat."

Dean watched as Sam sat the ball down on the floor. At first, nothing happened, but just when Dean started to turn back to the television, Hammy started scurrying across the floor.

"Look at him go, Dean!" Sam laughed as he followed the ball around the room. Soon, Dean was following the ball, too, and laughing just as loudly as his brother.

After almost ten minutes, Dean had the idea to build a maze for Hammy. "Remember that movie we watched where the mouse ran through the maze to get to the cheese? Let's build something like that for Hammy."

Sam immediately jumped on the idea and ten minutes later, they'd built a good size maze out of pillows, books, boxes, and whatever else they could find. Sammy ran into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, pulling out a handful of grapes. "Here, Dean! Hammy loves grapes. If we put some at the end of the maze, I think he'd go after them."

Dean cut the grapes into smaller pieces and laid them at the end of the maze. Sam put Hammy down at the start of the maze and they waited patiently for him to move. It didn't take long before Hammy was moving the ball through the maze. Occasionally, he'd get stuck against something, so Dean would reach down and put him back on the path to the end.

After almost twenty minutes, Hammy finally made it to the end and was rewarded with a grape snack. Dean wanted to go again, but Sam was quick to inform him that they were only supposed to keep him in the ball for thirty to forty-five minutes. Reluctantly, Dean went back to watching TV while Sam put the hamster back in his cage.

The next morning played out just about the same. Sam and Dean did a few chores and then went directly over to Hammy's cage. Much of the same happened throughout the day and by early evening, Hammy was ready to play again.

Since John was home, the boys wanted to go outside. They spent so much of their time inside whatever motel room, apartment, or house they were staying in, so whenever it was okay for them to play outside, they took advantage of that.

Sam sat on one end of the small yard and Dean on the other so they could stop Hammy from getting to close to the road. They kept him corralled for the most part, sending him back and forth between them. Sam was just about to take Hammy back in for the night when it happened.

"Dean! The ball broke open!" he yelled as he jumped to his feet.

Hammy was almost exactly in between both of them when he suddenly found himself free from the exercise ball. Sam and Dean watched in horror as the small rodent ran off to the right of the yard, right into a thicket of overgrown rose bushes. They both ran as fast as they could, hoping to catch Hammy before he could get away, but they weren't fast enough. By the time they made it to the thicket of bushes, Hammy was nowhere to be seen.

"Dean! Where did he go?" Sam suddenly burst into tears and Dean felt like he might do the same.

"It's okay, Sammy. We'll find him." Dean tried to reassure his brother, but Sam continued to cry rather loudly. It wasn't too long before John opened the front door to see why Sam was crying.

"What the hell is going on?" he bellowed as he walked out into the yard. "Dean? What happened?"

"Hammy got out of the ball, Dad. He ran over here, but we can't find him."

"Damn it!" John moved swiftly over to the thicket of bushes and looked through them as much as he could. "He's not here," he said after several minutes of looking.

"Daddy, we have to find him," Sammy cried.

They searched for almost an hour without finding even a trace of the hamster. Dean had taken Sam into the house to try to calm him down while John stayed out a little longer. He was just about to give up and go back into the house himself when he saw a feral cat staring at him from the house next door. John knew that there were several feral cats that hung around the dilapidated empty house and he suddenly had a bad feeling about Hammy.

He made his way over to the house, scaring off at least three cats in the process. Once he was there, he looked around the yard and house. It didn't take him long to find what he knew were the remains of a well-loved little hamster by the name of Hammy and it broke his heart. The last thing he wanted to do was tell Sam that Hammy was dead.

Seeing an old cardboard box up on the porch, John grabbed it and tore off one of the flaps. Using the flap, he shoveled what was left of the hamster into the box and headed back to his own house. He left the box on the small porch and quietly opened the door. Making his way to the bedroom the boys shared, he could hear Dean trying to calm Sam down and his heart broke again.

"It's okay, Sammy. Dad'll find him, okay? He'll make it alright, I promise."

John wasn't sure how much more his heart or his sanity could take. He suddenly felt a flash of anger at his oldest for talking him into letting Sam keep the hamster for the weekend. He should have listened to his gut and returned the hamster to the school right off the bat. But he didn't, and now he was going to have to tell his five year old that the class pet was dead.

It didn't go well. Sam was devastated to find out what happened to Hammy and his sobs were so loud that John's head soon began to hurt. Dean was devastated, too, but he didn't allow himself to give in to his sadness. John wasn't sure, but he thought that Dean was actually looking at him with disappointment in his eyes for failing to rescue the hamster.

"I knew I should've made Sam take the hamster back to his teacher," John growled. "I knew this wasn't going to turn out good."

Dean didn't say anything as he held onto his brother.

"What the hell happened, Dean? How did the hamster get out of the ball? Weren't you watching him?"

Dean suddenly realized that his dad was mad and that he would probably be the one to blame in all of this. He also suddenly remembered what his dad had said about his butt paying the price if there was any trouble. Suddenly, he found himself scrambling to dig himself out of the hole he was in.

"Dad, I was watching him. Sammy and I were on either side of the yard. But the ball just broke open!"

"It broke? Or was it just not latched properly?" John asked.

"I-I don't know," Dean stammered.

John turned and walked from the room. He returned a minute later holding the small exercise ball in his hand. "You're damn lucky it's broken, Dean, or you'd be over my knee right now."

Dean breathed out a sigh of relief and then turned his attention back to Sam, who was showing no signs of stopping his tears. Dean held onto him for a few more minutes and eventually Sam's sobbing stopped. The boy cried quietly for a few more minutes and then Dean realized that he'd fallen asleep.

"What do we do now?" Dean asked once he realized Sam was asleep.

"Nothing we can do," John nearly growled. "We'll have to tell his teacher what happened when you go back to school tomorrow."

"But what do we do with Hammy?" Dean asked.

"There isn't much left of Hammy, Dean. The cats…. Well, they didn't leave much behind."

"But, Dad…. We need to have a funeral. And we have to salt and burn the body, remember?"

John nearly laughed at that. Dean was just learning about the process of salting and burning bodies, but he obviously didn't understand that it only applied to people. He didn't feel like explaining the ins and outs of ghosts at the moment, so he compromised. "When Sam wakes up, we'll bury the box with Hammy's remains on the side of the house."

Dean was about to ask about the salt and burn, but decided not to. He could tell that his dad was one question away from losing it and Dean didn't want to be anywhere near him if that happened.

When Sam woke up almost two hours later, he immediately started crying again. Dean was quick to calm him down, though, and minutes later, they were all outside, standing around a small hole that John had dug.

Sam hadn't ever been to a funeral before- at least one that he could remember- so he didn't really know what to do. Dean's funeral experience was limited to the ones he'd seen on TV and one hunter's funeral he'd watched when he was supposed to be sleeping in the Impala. All he knew was that someone usually said something nice about the person that died and then they either buried the body or salted and burned it. He knew that his dad wouldn't be the one to say anything, so he figured it was all up to him.

Dean stepped over to Sam and put his hand on one of Sam's shoulders, tugging him into his side more. He cleared his throat and looked down at the small box. "Hammy? I'm sorry you had to go like that." He heard Sam sniffling and he pulled him in even tighter before continuing. "You were a good hamster, Hammy. You were really smart and super-fast in your ball. You made us laugh and you made Sammy happy. We'll miss you."

Dean knelt down and placed the box in the hole. Once it was there, he started shoveling the dirt in on top of the box. Sam knelt down next to him and started doing the same. Dean could tell that his brother was crying, but he didn't say anything. When they were all done, Dean grabbed Sam's hand and turned towards the house. Sam didn't move, though. Dean took a step back to his brother and looked down at him. Sam looked up at him with a small smile. "Thanks, Dean. That was really nice what you said about Hammy. I think he would've liked it."

Dean smiled back at his brother. "Let's go, Sammy. I think there's a new episode of MacGyver on tonight."

John watched as Sam and Dean walked back into the house, leaving him outside with a small mound of dirt and a giant mountain of sadness.

Present day

So, Sam knew a little bit about death. He knew a little bit about the sadness of something you loved dying. He knew that his dad was always sad about their mom, especially right after Halloween. He knew that Dean was sad whenever anyone mentioned his mom. He even knew that Uncle Bobby was still sad about his wife dying.

He remembered how sad he was when Hammy died. He remembered how he felt like he couldn't breathe and how his chest hurt. He remembered how sad he felt whenever he looked at Hammy's empty cage and all of his supplies. And he remembered how wrong it felt to return to school without Hammy.

If he felt that awful and that sad about a hamster he'd only known for a month, how would he feel if Dean died? Because that's what was happening, right? That's why Daddy looks so sad. That's why Pastor Jim is always praying. And why Uncle Bobby is always on the phone trying to find someone to help them.

Dean was dying. His big brother who did everything for him was dying. His best friend in the whole world was dying.

And Sam didn't think he would survive it.

John, Jim, and Sam were all shaken out of their thoughts by the sudden moaning and gasping that was coming from Dean. John quickly laid Dean back down on the bed, pushing Sam away a little in the process. Jim moved quickly over to the bed and they were all looking at Dean when his whole body began to violently shake.

They watched, knowing that there wasn't anything they could do to stop the seizure that was wreaking havoc on Dean's weakened body.

They watched and they watched until Dean's body stopped shaking and his gasping slowed down.

They watched as his chest rose and fell slower and slower and slower.

They watched until Dean's chest rose, fell, and didn't rise again.

They watched until there wasn't anything left at all.

Author's note: Whoomp there it is! Finally another chapter. And I'm sorry to say that it didn't serve to move the story along much. Instead, it's pretty angsty. I hope you don't mind that. I really felt like I wanted to delve into the thoughts of the characters as they watched Dean getting worse and worse. I feel like maybe I'm a little warped, lol.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and it wasn't too heavy for you. Or not heavy enough? I also hope the flashback scene wasn't confusing. I always find it hard to write those. Regardless, I appreciate all of you for reading and reviewing. My update schedule has been a little wonky these last several months and I'm blaming it all on the state of the world. For some reason, my motivation has been severely lacking.

I hope all is well for you. Please take care and be kind to one another. This world needs a lot of kindness right now.