Raising Winchesters

Chapter 32

Pulsatio et omnis spiritus diminuit

Heartbeat and every breath diminishes

Pulsatio et omnis spiritus diminuit

Heartbeat and every breath diminishes

Stitch Mathison heard an unnatural sound emanate from the bedroom upstairs. Without a second of hesitation, he jumped up from his chair and bolted up the stairs. He had an idea of what was happening and no matter what he felt about John Winchester, his heart broke for the man. No one deserved to lose a child. Especially in the way John was about to lose his.

It took him less than five seconds to make it up the stairs and into the room where John and his boys were. The sight that met him was enough to make even the most hardened hunter's eyes fill with tears. John, Sam, and Jim Murphy were all staring down at the bed where a lifeless Dean was laying. Stitch figured that the sound had come from John himself, based on the stricken look on the man's face. Sam was sobbing into John's chest, but the man didn't even seem to notice the small form clinging desperately to him.

John was staring down at Dean, seemingly lost in the awareness that his son was no longer breathing. Stitch could tell that the man was in a state of devastated shock, but he didn't have the time to help him. Instead, he pushed John and Sam out of the way, his fingers moving up to Dean's neck in search of a pulse. When he couldn't find one, he snatched Dean up off the bed. Without a word, he placed the small body down on the floor and immediately started pressing down on his chest.

Sam had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that the strange man his dad seemed to hate was suddenly grabbing Dean and pushing down on his chest. Sam could tell that it was probably hurting his brother and he wasn't going to let that happen.

"Stop! Get off him!" Sam yelled as he moved away from his dad and threw himself onto the man's back. His hands were lashing out at the man, landing blows to his head and shoulders. "Leave him alone! Dean!"

Jim moved over to grab Sam, not realizing how much of a fight he'd have on his hands.

"NO!" Sam squirmed in Jim's arms, flailing wildly and ferociously.

Jim almost dropped him several times until he finally landed a solid smack to Sam's bottom, making the boy pause in his thrashing. "Sam! Stop!" Jim shouted loudly. "He's trying to help Dean, Sam. He's trying to save him."

Sam's whole body was still tense, but Jim could tell that the fight was leaving him. Seconds later, his small body collapsed against Jim and he broke out in sobs. Occasional words could be heard, but all any of them could make out was the sound of Dean's name.

Once Sam was calm, Jim turned his attention back to what was happening on the floor. Stitch was still doing compressions, occasionally stopping to breathe into Dean's mouth. John was still standing stiffly next to the bed, his eyes taking in everything that was happening, but his mind not really processing it. Jim knew he was in a state of shock and he was actually surprised by it. This wasn't the first time Dean had been in trouble. Maybe the first time he'd been in such serious trouble, sure, but not trouble in general. John was never the type of man to seize up like this. He was never one to allow panic and terror to consume him, especially when his kids were involved.

Jim moved closer to John, hoping to instill some comfort in the man, even though he had no real comfort to give. Dean was the glue that held the Winchester family together. John and Sam wouldn't survive if Dean died, of that he was sure. Of course, they would physically survive, but they wouldn't survive emotionally. Their family would be broken, just like their hearts. John's grief would be so overwhelming and Sam, having no one to hold onto, would be lost in the crushing, devastating wave of that grief.

John watched as Stitch grabbed his son's body up off the bed and placed him down onto the floor. He watched as the man started doing chest compressions and as he breathed into his son's mouth. He watched every single second of Stitch's hands pressing deeply into Dean's chest, causing the small body to recoil every time his hands lifted up.

Dean's face was completely slack, but it was a slackness John wasn't used to seeing. It wasn't the laxity that came with a deep sleep or the tranquil look the boy got on his face whenever he was in a so-called food coma after gorging himself with pie. The slackness on Dean's face at the moment was a slackness that came from the absence of being… the absence of essence. The absence of life.

Dean was gone.

John had failed.

Nora had won.

But the world was still spinning. Even as he stared at the lifeless form of his son, his own heart was still beating. His own lungs were still drawing in breaths, ragged and harsh enough to make his chest ache. His own hands were shaking and his eyes were filled with tears and his legs were about to buckle. But the world was still spinning. And he still had another child to care for.

Tearing his eyes away from Dean for a single second, he looked over to find the small form of his youngest, now clinging desperately onto Jim Murphy. He knew he should do something to help Sam. He knew the boy needed him. But he just couldn't garner the strength he knew it would take to think about Sam at the moment.

His eyes moved instantly back to Stitch Madison. To Dean. To the end of the world…. his world…. that was happening right in front of him. With a gut-wrenching, heart-breaking, soul-searing sob, John fell down to his knees, desperation and despair finally overwhelming him.

For the first time in a long time, Bobby Singer truly appreciated the close-knit, interdependent community of fellow hunters he worked with. He hadn't been gone more than three hours before he had news that someone might have found the shapeshifter he was looking for.

After hearing the general description of the man, he was convinced that he was the man he was looking for. He gave instructions for the hunters to meet up with Caleb and to bring the man to Sioux Falls. Once that was all handled, he turned his truck around and headed back home as fast as he could.

He had a bad feeling in his gut that something awful was going on. Something catastrophic. Something that none of them would ever recover from. He was surprised to feel his eyes filling up with tears and even more surprised when he suddenly needed to pull over to the side of the road to empty his stomach.

Once he was done heaving and retching, he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face. He caught sight of himself in the rear view mirror and paused for several seconds, taking in the fear and sadness he saw in his own face. Dean and Sam were everything to him. Had been for a long time. After his wife died, Bobby thought that he was going to drown in his own sorrow….. that he was going to fade away into nothingness. He had no one to care whether he lived or died. Whether he drank so much beer and vodka that he could feel his liver actually dying. Whether he forgot to eat and his stomach felt like it was eating itself. Or whether he never interacted with another living soul another single second of his god-forsaken life.

But then the Winchesters had entered his life and changed everything. Suddenly, he started to think that maybe life was worth living. And that maybe he should start eating better and slowing down on the alcohol. Suddenly, he found himself looking forward to the visits from the Winchesters, even if most of them were because John had a hunt to go on and one of the boys was too sick to be left alone in some motel room in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes it was both boys that were sick. And sometimes it was just John needing a break from an overly energetic Dean or a grumpy Sam.

Bobby was no stranger to taking care of sick or injured Winchesters. It wasn't really a bad job as long as Dean wasn't the one sick or injured. If it was Sam of John, Dean was right there with him, doing everything he could to take care of his brother or father. Dean knew exactly what to do when Sam was feeling so bad that all he could do was cry. Or when John was so injured or sick that all he wanted to do was hate the world and take it out on everyone around him. Dean knew how to handle both of them and Bobby was more than willing to move out of his way and let him do what he did best.

But now it was Dean that wasn't doing good, and Bobby knew what a complete and utter understatement that actually was. Dean was as far away from doing good as anyone could possibly be.

And that scared the living hell out of Bobby.

Pulling into the driveway of his salvage yard, Bobby suddenly felt like going inside the house was the absolute worst thing he could do. He knew he wasn't going to like what he found inside and if he could put it off for any length of time, he'd have to thank himself later.

He had just about gathered up enough courage to open his door and climb out of the truck when he heard the sound of several cars pulling up behind him. Seconds later, he was standing next to the truck, watching as an old Civic and an old Pinto station wagon came to a stop behind him.

Bobby recognized both of the drivers in the two cars and at least one of the hunters sitting shot gun. The other one looked vaguely familiar, but he didn't stare long enough to decide whether or not he really did. And without wasting too much time on trying to figure it out, his eyes quickly moved to the back seat of the car.

He immediately recognized the man as being the one that had been holding onto Dean in the shipyard and he felt a sudden rush of giddiness. They found him!

Bobby quickly made his way over to the car, leaning down to look in the back seat once he got there. "Is that him?" he asked, even though he was pretty sure it was. "Did he tell you his name?"

"Hasn't said a word yet. Even after a little encouragement." Caleb stepped out of the car and stood next to Bobby. "But I'm pretty sure it's him, Bobby. When we first saw him, he started to change into a cat of some sort, but Walt hit him with some silver and he stopped mid-change. Luckily, he changed back to human, which made our job a lot easier."

"Did you see anyone or anything else with him? A woman maybe?"

"No. Just him and a big fat worm on the ground. Walt tested it, but it was just a worm."

"Okay, well…. get him out of the car and into the garage. I want to have a go before I unleash Papa Bear on him." Bobby turned and headed off towards the house. "I'm gonna check on Dean first, though."

Caleb and Walt immediately moved to get the man out of the car. The hunter that Bobby didn't know stayed close to the car, but got out of everyone's way. Bobby watched as the man was pulled out of the car and then made his way towards the house. If he was walking a little slower than normal, it was only because he was truly afraid of what he was going to find when he opened the door. His instinct was usually pretty good and at the moment it was telling him that more trouble was looming ahead of them all.

John had no idea how much time had passed since Dean took his last breath. He had no idea how long it had been since his son's heart had beat on its own. All he knew was that it seemed like time had stopped as his whole world crumbled around him. He couldn't take his eyes off of the scene that was playing out in front of him. But he couldn't really seem to focus on it either. Suddenly, his mind was filled with memories of Dean. The day he found out he was going to be a father. The day Dean was born, his cries filling the small room and John's own heart. The day they brought him home from the hospital, looking so small and vulnerable in the back seat of the car. First smile. First tooth. First words, which wasn't Dada like John had hoped, but was actually something that sounded suspiciously like "pala." John smiled at the memory of just how much Dean loved the Impala, even at such a young age.

He remembered taking Dean on long, meandering rides in the car when he was fussy and couldn't sleep. He remembered working under the hood of the Impala when Dean was three, keeping his eye on Dean, who had picked up a wrench and was trying to work on the car, too. He remembered water fights in the driveway whenever they were washing the car. And he remembered driving out into an open field and laying on the hood of the car with Mary and Dean, watching a meteor shower in the open sky above. Mary had been pregnant with Sam at the time and John remembered looking at Dean and wondering what kind of brother he would be to the new baby.

Before his thoughts could move on any further, he noticed that Stitch was suddenly climbing to his feet. It took him a few seconds to comprehend that the man was telling him to move, but when he finally understood, he quickly moved out of the way.

Stitch leaned down and picked Dean up, moving him back over to the bed. John was still in a daze, but he tried to pull himself together. "What's going on?" he finally asked. "Why did you stop?"

"He's got a pulse, John. And he's breathing on his own again." Stitch felt for a pulse again, just to confirm what he'd just told John. When he felt the steady thrum under his fingers, he straightened up and looked over at both John and Jim. "We need to figure this out. If that happens again, I don't think I can get him back. He's too weak."

"We're doing what we can, Stitch," Jim said quietly.

"Well, it's not enough, Murphy. The kid doesn't have a whole lot of time left."

Before anyone could say anything else, Bobby burst through the bedroom door. "We got him!" he nearly yelled, completely missing the pained look on everyone's faces. "Did you hear me, John? We got him. He's out in the garage."

Author's note: Wow! I'm so sorry for the long wait. This Covid crap is wreaking havoc on my life, but I finally found some time to write.

Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I hope you're not getting tired or bored with the way I'm dragging this all out. Trust me, there will be some more forward movement in the story soon, so don't give up on me.

I hope you all are staying safe and healthy. Please take care of yourselves and please be kind to those around you.