Raising Winchesters

Chapter 37

(Recap) "Stop! Get away from them!"

Nora turned around at the sound of Dean's voice, taking in the sight of the frail child, who was barely able to hold the gun up. She could see that his hands were shaking terribly and that there was a fine sheen of sweat covering his face.

"Put the gun down, Dean. We all know that's not going to do anything to me."

Dean looked quickly over to his dad and uncle and then his attention moved back to Nora.

"Dean, put the gun down. This is just between me and your dad now. No one else needs to get hurt."

"Stay away from my dad," Dean yelled weakly. "I'll shoot you. I will!" He chanced another look over to his dad, taking in the small nod of his head. When his attention turned back to Nora, he noticed she had stepped closer to him. "Stay back!"

Nora- whose attempts to keep John and Bobby at bay were growing weaker- decided that enough was enough. Time was running out and she needed to finish her business and get the hell out of there. Without a word, she stepped towards Dean, intent on grabbing the gun out of his hands.

She only took three full steps before Dean fired the gun.

The recoil from the shot knocked Dean backwards, sending him across the porch to land in a heap next to Titus. The man was lying face down, unconscious and barely breathing, but when Dean's small body jarred him, he jerked awake, a gasp escaping his weakened body.

John and Bobby watched on in horror as everything unfolded. They watched as Nora stepped towards Dean and then they watched as Dean fired the shotgun. They watched as Dean's body flew through the air, both grimacing at the sound they heard when his body collided with the floor.

Mere seconds later, John felt his muscles release from whatever was holding him in place. He immediately jumped up and ran to the witch, wanting to make sure she wasn't going to sit up and make any more trouble for them. Despite the toll that had been taken on Dean's young body through everything, his shot had been dead center. Nora's chest was profusely bleeding, but she laid lifeless on the ground.

John used the tip of his boot to nudge the woman, but she didn't move at all. Leaning down, he reached out, putting two fingers against her neck in search of a pulse. Relief coursed through him when he didn't find one.

Once he was sure that she was dead, he turned to check on Dean. Bobby had immediately gone to check on the boy and John didn't miss the look of concern on the man's face. He rushed over to his son, pushing Bobby out of the way in the process. Bobby stepped back and moved to check on Titus.

"Dean? Dean! Can you hear me?" John grabbed Dean and pulled him to his chest. He felt like he'd done the same thing too many times over the last few weeks and he was tired of it. He was tired of the danger that always surrounded his family. And he was tired of being such a failure as a father.

Dean still hadn't come around, so John stood up and took him into the house. Jim and Sam were standing near the door, anxiously watching everything. The second John walked through the door, Sam jumped forward, his eyes never leaving his brother's form.

"Is he okay, Daddy? What's wrong with him?"

John ignored his youngest son, his attention fully focused on Dean. He moved over to the couch, laying Dean down before turning to Jim. "Call Mathison."

"John…"

"Call Mathison, Jim."

"He's too far away, John. He's in California, I think."

"Get somebody. I don't care who, Jim."

"Let me look at him."

John took a step to the side so Jim could get in to check on Dean. Sam was trying to get over to Dean, too, but John grabbed him to keep him out of Jim's way. "Let Jim work, Sam," he said as he tried to contain the wiggling seven year old.

"But he needs me, Daddy. Dean needs me."

"Dean needs Jim to help him, Sammy." John felt bad when he noticed the tears streaming down Sam's face, but he just couldn't deal with it. He couldn't deal with anything until he knew his son was okay.

After what seemed like an eternity to everyone in the room, Jim finally stood up and turned to face them. "He'll be fine, John. All of his reflexes are intact, his pupils are equal and reactive, and his breathing is normal. I think his body just gave in to his exhaustion."

"Are you sure? Maybe we should take him to the hospital," Bobby said nervously.

Sam tugged on John's head, turning it to face him. "Daddy! Dean needs a kitty test! Remember? Like when Uncle Bobby hit his head and wouldn't wake up?"

Bobby snorted at that and John shot him an irritated look. Bobby ignored him.

"It's called a Cat Scan, Sam," Pastor Jim explained. "And I don't think Dean needs one just yet. He's going to wake up soon and he'll be fine."

"Promise?"

"I don't do promises, Sam. You know that. But I really do think your brother is going to be fine."

"Okay, Pastor Jim. I believe you." Sam tried to get down from his dad's arms and after several seconds of struggling, John finally put him down. He immediately ran to his brother's side. "I'm here, Dean. I'm right here."

John turned to look at Bobby, noticing for the first time that Titus was standing by the door, watching everything that was going on. "Bobby, get him out of here," he said, nodding his head at the man. "And take care of everything outside. I want it all cleaned up before Dean wakes up."

Bobby turned and made his way to the door, pulling on Titus' arm to follow him. Without a word, Titus followed him out of the house.

"I want him gone, too, Jim," John said. "I don't want Dean to ever have to look at him again."

"John, he tried to protect Dean. He put himself in danger to help us."

"Dean wouldn't have even been in danger if the man hadn't gotten involved with Nora."

"Yes, but I still think we owe him our thanks."

"Well, you can thank him out there. He's not coming anywhere near my son ever again."

It was almost three hours before Dean finally started to stir. From the moment he moved his first muscle, Sam was at his side, urging him to wake up. The boy grew more and more frustrated when Dean seemed to take his own sweet time in waking up, but eventually Sam's hazel eyes were looking into Dean's green ones.

"Dean! You're awake!" Sam yelled rather loudly, causing Jim and John to quickly shush him. "Dean!" he repeated in a whisper.

"Sammy?"

"It's me, Dean. I'm right here."

Dean suddenly tried to sit up, frantically looking around at the same time. "Where is she?" he asked breathlessly. "Dad? Where is she?"

"She's gone, son," John answered immediately. "I took care of her."

"I shot her. Is she dead?"

"We'll talk about it all later, Dean. Okay? Right now you just need to relax."

Dean continued to try to sit up, but he was too weak to hold himself up. "Is she dead?" he asked again.

John knew Dean wouldn't drop it until he got an answer, so he answered. "She's dead, Dean. She'll never hurt you or anyone else again." Thinking Dean would be satisfied with that as an end to their ordeal, John was surprised when that didn't seem to be what happened. Instead, he watched as Dean curled up into the couch, his back to the rest of the room.

John, Jim, and Bobby all shared a look and after almost a full minute of silence, Jim finally spoke.

"Hey, Sam…. Why don't we go see if we can find something for dinner? And I don't know about you, but I'm feeling the urge to make a pie. What do you think?"

Sam looked at his brother uncertainly. "Dean?" he asked in a timid voice. "I can stay if you want me too. Dean?"

When his brother didn't answer, Sam looked at his dad.

"It's okay, Sam. I think Dean just needs some more rest. I bet he's gonna want some pie when he wakes up, though."

With that being said, Sam gave a small smile and left the room with Jim. Bobby retired to the library, wanting to put down on paper everything that had happened over the last few days, including the fact that his witch killing bullets actually worked. Titus had left the salvage yard earlier, after an offering of thanks from Jim and Bobby, and a terse goodbye from John. Now, John was sitting on a chair, next to his son.

"Dean, we need to talk."

Dean ignored his dad, curling up into an even tighter ball.

"Dean," John said a little more forcefully. "I need you to turn around and look at me." When Dean made no move to do what he was told, John started to lose his already barely there patience. "That was an order, son," he said, firmly.

Dean reluctantly rolled over, but didn't look at his dad. Instead, he curled himself back into a ball. He wanted to scream and yell and cry and throw up all at the same time. And he really didn't think his dad would understand any of it.

"Dean, I know you're probably feeling pretty mixed up about everything right now. And I'm really sorry about that. I wish things would've worked out differently, but they happened the way they happened and we just have to deal with it, okay? Nora is dead, Titus is gone, and you're okay."

"I killed her," Dean said quietly.

"You didn't have a choice, Dean. She gave you no choice. And I'm sorry that I couldn't save you from that." Dean didn't answer, so John continued. "I'm proud of you, kid. You remembered your training and did exactly what you were supposed to do. Shoot first, ask questions later, remember?"

John was surprised by the loud sob that tore through Dean's small body. "Hey! Hey, it's okay."

"It's not okay, Dad," Dean cried. "I didn't mean to kill her. I just wanted to make her stop."

"I know, son. But she wasn't going to stop. She would've kept on until she killed you. Or me. Or Sammy." John knew it was a low-blow to bring Sammy into the conversation like that, but he figured it was the only sure-fire way to get his son to understand that Nora had to die.

Dean cried even harder, though. "I don't want to be a hunter anymore, Dad. I don't want to ever touch a gun again."

"Dean…."

"No! I don't want to! This all happened because you're a hunter, Dad. This wouldn't've happened if Mom were still alive. She wouldn't let something like this happen, ever."

John stood up so fast that the chair he was sitting in toppled over. "That's enough! You did what you had to do and there's nothing more to it, Dean. You need to deal with it. And don't let me ever hear you talk about your mother like that. You don't have a clue what would've happened if she was alive."

"Dad…"

"I'm done talking about it, boy. The woman is dead and yes, you killed her. We're not going to talk about this anymore, understand?" When Dean didn't answer, John raised his voice. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered. His eyes nervously found his father's eyes, but quickly looked away. When John didn't say anything else, he turned himself back around on the couch, curled up in a ball, and let his tears finally fall.

Author's note: Dang! I know it's been too long since I last updated, so please accept my apologies. I work in an ICU and things have been quite crazy lately. When I'm home, I usually only have enough energy to either watch Supernatural or read Supernatural fanfic. Writing sometimes takes a little more brain power than I can muster, lol.

Thank you so much for sticking with the story. I promise I won't stop until I'm finished with it, which I'm thinking will just be in a few more chapters. Until then, enjoy and let me know what you think.

Take care, everyone. Stay safe and healthy.