Chapter Six

"What the hell just happened?" John growled lowly, holding his middle child in his arms protectively as the man trembled even in his sleep.

Five minutes had passed since Sam had fallen unconscious and yet he still couldn't bring himself to let him go, not with the fear that had burned in the boy's hazel eyes branded so freshly behind his eyelids. His own gaze, hard and full of worry all at once met his eldest son's, and he nearly recoiled when he saw the emotions churning in them.

Pain, hatred, concern, fear, and anger. So much anger.

Dean's eyes were more dangerous than he'd ever seen them and harder than any of the men he'd seen when he'd returned from Vietnam. They were so different from anything he'd ever seen on his son that had it not been for the sigils lining every wall of the house and the single minded focus the man had on his brother, he would've assumed it was a demon inhabiting his son. Beside his eldest, sat his youngest, his eyes wide, unblinking, and full of unshed tears as they stared at his older brother.

The teen looked traumatized.

"S-Sam?" He stammered softly, reaching for the man but Dean stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder, his gaze moving to his youngest brother.

"Don't. Not yet."

The trembling body in John's arms slowly calmed, and fell completely limp, quiet whimpers leaving its owner.

"What the hell was that, Dean?!" John repeated, angry that his question was ignored and Sam flinched at his tone, making both of his brothers glare at their father.

"Sam was kidnapped…right after the attack on his school. They tortured him, brutally…and he has PTSD because of it. He's getting better but sometimes something just sets him off and…"

John's heart clenched, remembering his own PTSD years before Dean was born. Mary had helped him through it, but he could still remember it all like yesterday, right down to the cold sweat and nightmares. At the same time, rage coiled through him like an angry snake and he wanted to yell and scream at the unfairness of it all.

Sam had been hurt badly, and his sons had not only failed to inform him but…Dean was lying to him. Not about the torture or the PTSD but something in that sentence had tripped John's mental lie detectors and sent red flags up in his mind. He couldn't figure out what but he knew without a shadow of doubt that Dean wouldn't budge if he pushed him on it.

Still, Dean and Sam often failed to realize that while he wasn't the best at showing it, he loved them. His children were his entire world and they would know that, even if his mission had to take backseat for a while.

"Will he be alright?" Kate asked, drawing everyone's attention as she placed a gentle hand on the prone man's forehead. Dean narrowed his eyes at her, tensing protectively every moment she was near him.

"Fine." He grunted and Adam jerked, blinking and shoving him playfully.

"Be nice, Dean. That's my mom."

The elder Winchester rolled his eyes.

"Uh-huh."

Adam glared at him. "I'll tell Sam you were picking on me."

John snorted and raised an eyebrow while Dean paled.

"You wouldn't."

"I so would."

Dean chuckled relaxing slightly. "Low blow, kid."

A soft groan sounded, silencing them all once more and startling Kate from where she stood stroking Sam's hair.

"De'n."

Dean rushed to his side, gently pushing Kate out of the way.

"Hey Sammy. Checking out like that in the middle of a conversation. That was rude." Tired hazel slid open slowly, amusement dancing in their depths as he fought to sit up.

"Sorry." He responded, shooting John a startled look when he noticed he was half laying in his father's lap.

"Sorry." He repeated and something in his gaze broke John's heart.

Had he really fallen so low in their eyes that his son felt the need to apologize for taking comfort in him?

Mary would be so ashamed of him.

"Are you ok, Sammy?" Adam asked, and Sam smiled wanly.

"I'm fine."

John narrowed his eyes. He had a feeling that he would really come to hate that phrase.

"This is really happening, isn't it?"

Dean sighed quietly as the question left the slender body in his arms. Feeling it tense as its owner buried his face in his throat. After the episode, they'd had in the living room, Kate had cooked dinner and they'd all turned in early stressed from the day's events. It had led to him and Sam sharing the guest room across from Adam's bedroom, their father in the room next door. The setting was so familiar that it had shocked both time-travelers when nostalgia hit them.

For all his faults, they truly had missed their father.

"You mean have we really been dropped over six years in the past with no plan, no idea what to do and the family we thought was dead? Yes."

Sam snorted, hitting him in the chest playfully.

"You know what I meant."

Dean chuckled, nuzzling the soft curls beneath his chin. He loved when Sam curled up to tuck himself perfectly against him. It always led to them actually sleeping instead of screaming themselves awake.

"I know, baby. And my answer is still yes. We hold all the cards, Sammy. We can stop this before it even starts."

A tiny, but hopeful smile crossed Sam's lips, the most beautiful expression to cross his features since they'd arrived in the past and perhaps even before that. It had been so long since his brother had dared to hope for anything.

"So, what's first?"

"First, we convince Dad to come with us."

Sam nodded, remembering the warmth of his father's arms earlier that day.

"Then?"

"Then, we stop Azrael."
The younger male nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to his brother's clothed sternum.

"Love you, De."

"Love you too," Dean responded kissing his brother's forehead. "Now, go to sleep. You've had a long day."

He rumbled, and soon they both drifted into a dreamless sleep, neither of them aware of the wide-eyed gaze of the man on the other side of the wall.

TBC…