Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them.
And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them.
A/N: This is a longer chapter than you've been seeing. I've got the end written, it's been beta'd (thanks Kelli!) and I just want to make sure that's where I really want it to go before I post it. There will probably be at least one more chapter before the final one.
I did a little medical research for this story, but don't hold me to anything. A little research does not equal a medical degree.
I'd love to know what you guys think of this. It's heading toward an alternate universe realm so canon be damned!
Father and Son
Chapter 7
Because it was easier, and because it needed to be discussed anyway, the Winchesters talked about the job while eating the food John brought back. They decided which purification ritual to use, then John told Dean about his conversation with Caleb.
"How do you plan to find out who those men are?" Dean asked.
"Hanging out at the bar – or that diner down the street." John said. "I'm surprised that what we did last night hasn't been reported yet."
Dean shrugged. "Small town, not a lot of reason for people to hang out at the cemetery. We were there late enough last night that the people who could have seen it were probably in bed."
"You're probably right."
"Or maybe the sheriff knows about it but it hasn't gotten around yet."
"Like you said, though. It's a small town."
"Hard to keep secrets."
John nodded. "I picked up this food from the diner and it wasn't very busy, but there were a few people around. No one was saying anything about the cemetery."
"So when do you want to head out to the house?" he asked, pushing away the empty food containers in front of him.
"No time like the present, I guess."
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Purifying the house would take care of any spirits or miscellaneous within it; in effect it was the final step in ending the haunting. It could also, potentially, put an end to whatever the sacrifices were made to but John didn't hold out much hope for that.
They took their supplies into the house and took off in opposite directions so they could get the job done faster. John had an uneasy feeling about this house and he wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible.
He went from room to room, methodically working his way through the ritual. He didn't feel any better as he progressed than when he started. He had no special powers, other than an awareness of the paranormal, so his feeling wasn't a premonition, but he took it seriously nonetheless. As soon as he was finished, he went downstairs to find Dean.
"Dean?" he called moving through hallway. "Dean, where are you?"
When he got no response, he moved faster and called louder. He felt like he'd been punched in the stomach when he walked into what had been the dining room. Dean was pinned to the wall, blood flowing freely from his mouth and nose. John rushed forward, not considering what danger the room might hold. Dean's head was hanging forward and his eyes were closed. John touched him gingerly and turned in surprise when the room was plunged into darkness. It was late afternoon, too early for the sun to have gone down, and it had happened too quickly. He did the only thing he could think of and started the purification ritual again.
The room was filled with horrific screaming, the source of which John could not see. There were intense flashes of light, and the temperature in the room fell. John continued the necessary steps to cleanse the room. He didn't know how long he'd been at it but, just when he was sure it wasn't going to work, the sounds stopped and the room returned to natural lighting. He looked at Dean, now on the floor. It didn't matter to him if the job was finished or not; he had to get his son away from the house so he could assess his injuries and get him whatever help he might need.
He pulled Dean up and carried him to the car, which was parked outside the back door. He pulled over at almost the exact same location as the first time they'd come from the house to check Dean for injuries. He could feel a large bump on his head and there was no sign that he was going to wake up. The bleeding appeared to have stopped and he was more than just a little skilled in first aid, but John felt he had no choice but to take Dean to the nearest emergency room.
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John paced uncomfortably in the small emergency room waiting room. The nearest hospital was in the same town as the library he and Dean had used for their research and the drive seemed to take an eternity. John kept taking his eyes off the road to cast a worried glance at his son and more than once, he found himself nearly driving off the side of the road.
When asked what happened, John told the doctor that Dean was exploring an abandoned house and when he didn't come back when he was expected, John had gone to look for him finding him unconscious in the house. It was almost the truth and John explained it in such a way that the doctor didn't ask for any further details.
"Mr. Lewis?"
"How's my son?" John asked, almost not recognizing the name he'd used when filling out the paperwork.
"He's being prepped for surgery." the doctor said as kindly as one could break that kind of news. He went on to explain that Dean had some internal bleeding that needed to be stopped. He said that there was no reason not to be optimistic about the outcome, but cautioned John that the surgery was not insignificant. He was also somewhat concerned about the bump on Dean's head, but the tests hadn't revealed anything particularly troublesome.
After the doctor had gone, John quickly sat down in the nearest chair. He considered getting in touch with Sam, but decided he would do that only if things started to look dire for Dean. Instead he called Caleb and told him that no matter what, the job was over.
John paced for a while; he tried to drink coffee in the cafeteria and looked for other ways to distract himself. In the end, he passed the time in the waiting room.
The doctor came back to talk to John after the surgery was over. He said things had gone well and they were expecting Dean to make a full recovery, but reminded John that he was still concerned about the head injury.
"Can I see him?" John asked.
"Not quite yet. He's going to be in the recovery room for a while. I doubt you will, but you may as well take off for the night. It's going to be morning before you can see him."
"You're right." John said. "I'm not going anywhere."
The doctor nodded. "A nurse will let you know when you can see him."
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By mid-morning, John was going stir crazy. He was being kept apprised of his son's condition, but had not been allowed to see him yet. Dean was kept in recovery longer than normal because he remained unconscious even after the anesthesia should have left his body. The doctor had explained that, as he feared, Dean's recovery was being complicated by the head injury and there was no way to predict when he would wake up. Once he had been settled in the ICU around noon, John was allowed to see him.
It wasn't as if John had never seen Dean in a hospital bed before, but something about this time was especially worrisome. He stood across the room for several moments, taking note of how pale his son was and how small he looked in the bed hooked up to various monitoring machines. The ventilator almost brought him to his knees.
Eventually John moved closer and laid a hand on the side of Dean's head.
"I know you're strong enough to get through this, Dean." John said to him softly. "I know you are."
He stood next to the bed for a while then pulled a chair closer, having no intention of leaving his son alone in the hospital. The doctor and nurses came and went for the next few hours and no one suggested that John leave. They knew he and his son were from out of town and they could also see that he was staying out of the way. With Dean still unconscious, there was no real reason for the medical staff to make him leave.
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"Mr. Lewis," the doctor said after he looked at the latest results in Dean's chart. "Can we talk out in the hall?"
It had been two days with no signs of improvement and John was frustrated. He was also scared.
He gazed at his son and gently touched his cheek before following the doctor out of the room.
"Mr. Lewis, based on the latest evaluation – your son has slipped into a coma. That isn't necessarily a bad thing; it could just be his body's way of healing itself."
John rubbed his face. "I know about comas."
"We're going to keep him in ICU to monitor his condition. He's healing from the surgery and his vital signs are strong. There's no reason right now to think he won't come out of this coma." the doctor continued, "so if you know about comas, you know that it's important to talk positively to him. Patients have reported having very detailed memories of being in a coma. Mr. Lewis –"
"Thank you, Doctor. I – uh – I think I'll go back and sit with my son now."
"Mr. Lewis," the doctor called after him. "when your son does come out of this, he's going to need you. You should get some rest."
John nodded. "I probably should."
The doctor watched John as he walked back into Dean's room.
"Dean." John stood next to the bed. "Son, you know I'm not good at this, but I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure you get better. If Sam was here, he'd be able to sit next to your bed and talk to you for hours. You'd probably wake up just to tell him to leave you alone. You know if I called him, he'd drop everything to come here. I can't let him do that. I didn't want him to go, but now that he has, I can't ask him to come back. Not even for you."
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Caleb had come into town the day before and after an initial visit to the hospital, he was spending his time investigating the events in the house. He stood in the doorway of Dean's room, quietly watching his friend talk to his son.
"John." he said, walking all the way into the room. "How's he doing?"
"Coma." John said quietly.
"I'm sorry."
"He's going to be fine." John said.
"Let's talk outside."
John followed his friend. "Have you found something out?"
"I found a couple of the old guys from the cult, or whatever it is. One of them was willing to talk a little bit and he told me that there were originally nine of them, plus Border. Ever since Border died, the rest of them have been having health problems."
"They're old."
Caleb nodded. "Yeah, but this started right after he died. Only seven of the nine are still alive and, like you suspected, they're afraid of dying with their benefactor still pissed off at them. The one thing we were wrong about was Jackson. He was against what his father was doing, but not for the reasons we thought. He wanted to do something more than have successful crops."
"What did he want?"
"The guy I talked to didn't know specifically. All those people that have been dying over the years haven't gone to waste; Jackson has been using them for his own purposes. But he wasn't sacrificing them to the same – thing – so this group killed him."
"That is one messed up town."
"It is." Caleb agreed. "He wouldn't tell me what they were making the sacrifices to, but my guess is that whatever it is was in the house when you and Dean were there. It wanted to stop you."
"It damn near killed my son." John said with a quiet anger. "I want it destroyed."
"I'm already on it."
"I should be out there helping you."
"You should be here with Dean." Caleb said. "Actually, you should be back at the motel taking a shower and getting some sleep."
John said nothing.
"I rented a room here in town." Caleb dug the key from his pocket. "Take this, go get some rest. I'll stay here with Dean."
"I already lost one son." John said. "I can't – I won't – lose another one."
"Go to the motel, John. I'll call you if anything changes here."
"Do you have your research?"
"John – "
"Do you have the research?" John demanded.
"I left my journal in the motel room."
John nodded. "I'm going to talk to Dean and then I'll go."
Caleb watched as John slowly walked back into his son's room. He stood next to the bed and put his hand on Dean's arm.
"Dean, I'm going to take off for a little while, but Caleb is going to be here with you. I won't be gone long, Son."
He waited for some response, any response, but he got nothing. Sighing, John left the room. Caleb put a hand on his shoulder as he walked past; John nodded but didn't stop.
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John went to the motel room only long enough to get the journal. He looked through it while sitting at a diner down the street from the hospital. He read the latest entries, then compared them to something from several years ago in his own journal.
"Damnit." he threw a few dollars on the table and rushed out to his car. He pounded his fist on the steering wheel, trying to work out some of his frustration, before putting the key in the ignition and going back to the hospital.
TBC