Carry On Wayward Son

by OoljeeAingeal

What happened to make the Winchester men the way they are... Family, violence and women. And of course rock and roll. Suck at summaries, please read. Enjoy!

6. Be My Friend

Thank you to the kind souls who took pity upon me and left reviews, even the mean one. Special thanks to Alaina/SVOC Luva who warmed this new writer's soul. Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated. FYI these characters are not mine they belong to the CW. Sigh. Would take John Winchester/Jeffrey Dean Morgan in hot Kansas second if given the chance though. Enjoy the story. Oh yes, warning this chapter does contain violence and slight adult themes.

May 25, 2005Lake Annette, Missouri

Blood, there was so much blood everywhere. It stained his hands, his son and the barn floor. Oh hell, even the hay was drenched with it. John couldn't even recognize the lines that would turn into the tell tale smirk, his consistently twinkling eyes were dim. His body looked as if Dean had gone thirty rounds with a battering ram and lost.

The man who only wanted to save his baby from harm looked at what had brought this carnage about. They were broken open and covered with his brave soldier's hemo. John swallowed the bile forming in his mouth. He thought back to that day so many years ago, when they were saturated with his with wife's blood. Their baby boy keening the cry only a newborn could.

He did this to his boy the person who was his heart and the very essence of his soul. May Mary bestow mercy on the very essence of his soul, his rotting to the core soul. If he could have figured out any other way he would have. "Imp, I am proud to walk beside you and will be honored too for the rest of my days."

The miserable father bit a shaking lip at the recollection. He had meant those words.

Jonathon Dean Winchester just beat the holy hell out of his son. Not a part of his normally a rabble rouser his courageous till the end little one was untouched. Dean looked at him with confusion and pain as he walked out. The twenty six year old was curled in a ball on the dirty hay covered floor. Agony seared John through his disconsolate heart. 'I really am the bastard father I tried so hard not to become.'

He started with a truculent blow to the latissimus dorsi, the father knew if he looked at the kid's hazel eyes, her eyes, for the first hit he wouldn't have been able to go through with it. Dean rocked forward but didn't loose his balance, just turned around fighter's stance at the ready. Then he realized it was his father. "Dad?" He stretched his recently assaulted back and looked at John relaxing his posture. "What the hell Dad, you forget what side I'm on?"

"No son I didn't and you have to believe me when I tell you Dean, if I could have figured out another way..." John stated in a resigned voice, his resolve impenetrable. As soon as the words exited his indurate mouth he threw the hardest punch of his life, at his son, his champion, his rock. The timepiece that the now flying through the air son had given him as birthday present slipped off his wrist. He could just make out the last half of the inscription, Love Dean. He did love Dean, whether or not the boy believed it.

The young man would have marched into the fires of hell and back if his father had asked him. There in lie the problem. John needed to go the rest of this road alone. Telling his obstinate older one this wouldn't have worked. No that wouldn't have been good enough for Dean, the kid would have followed him orders or no. 'You protect your family at all costs,' this had been ingrained into his psyche from that night so long ago as they sat on the Impala watching the flames.

The unrestrained ferocity of the hit set his son flying several feet where he landed with a thud. "Dad?" John could hear the 'why what did I do' in the unsure statement. The one word was laced with so much, the ache of knowing he had failed his father and not knowing how to right the wrong. The merciless parent didn't respond knowing if he did he might back down. Part of him wanted to. John knew he could fix it at this point. The other knew he couldn't, 'start as you mean to go on.'

John fell on top of his first born with all his weight. He continued to punch him over and over. The boxer couldn't even recognize Dean's Winchester chin. His boy's checks were all ready reacting to the blows, swelling and distorting. 'Why won't he defend himself? Oh hell. Please let him throw one back, lash out or anything.' The unwavering abuser prayed.

Dean must have heard his silent plea. He attempted with unsteady arms to block his fathers whaling fists of fury. Not that it did any good. John had commenced upon on his course and intended to finish it. Dean's face was bulging something fierce. Discoloration had set in. One eye was almost swollen shut. The strong Winchester chin was split open. There was a laceration above his other eye exposing raw flesh.

John pushed his knee into his sundering progeny's sternum. This was the action that served to make Dean try in earnest to buck him off. The father nailed him with an elbow to the gut. Then a sharp fist to the groin, the pressure of his father's fast moving right hook was excruciating. The young man's face twisted.

Still the dirty blond was not unaccustomed to fighting through the pain. Dean persisted pushing at him, and got lucky. John wasn't expecting the strength in the pummeled young man's body and was sent rolling back, "Why, Dad? Why?"

Knocking his father off him was the nearly broken body's one burst of brawn. The barbarous man could see his decimated child's energy was tapering out. He could hear it in Dean's enervated voice. While it was normally confident and cocky it was now tired and betrayed.

Seeing he had succeeded in deterring his father's relentless attack or at least earning himself a reprieve Dean rolled shelteringly to his side clutching his ribs, ribs that John heard crack. The man stared at his son's back, his 'a lover and a fighter' tee shirt torn and soaked with sanguine.

With a heavy heart he sent a punch that had it been directed at a cement block would have broken it into pieces. The fist was aimed straight at his son's exposed kidney, knowing this would disable him. John wanted his boy to be out for the rest of what he planned to do. Dean took in a sharp breath, coughed and tried to fight the inevitable blackout. He lost the battle.

With a great amount of care and tenderness John touched his son's battered face his hand sticky and contused. "Dean please forgive me for what I have done and am about to do…" The forty nine year old man's voice broke. "…I love you. You are my rock and my salvation. I have to save you." John reached down and kissed his son's damaged forehead. Then he meted out the final hostilities, tears streaming down his battle scared face the entire time.

As he opened the door to the now apparition free barn they were in Dean's eyelids fluttered upward confusion and pain stared John straight in the face. Hazel windows to the soul were open and fixed on him, the gaze glassed over and yet unwavering. Fighting the urge to shutter at the exposed emotions raging forth from his baby, the former Marine turned and without another glance left.

Left his son, maimed his lifeblood oozing out of him. When the opprobriumed father secured the tattered wooden barrier between Dean and himself he rested his head. He had to get his breathing under control before he made the call. An image of that porcelain angel that Mary kept in the nursery flashed through his mind.

He remembered saying to her "What father wouldn't want an angel to watch over his boys?" The doll had broken before Sam was born. When Mary glued it back together, she told him, "Not all Angels have perfect halos." The Angel he was sending Dean halo was as close as it was gonna get. She had a smart mouth just like his, grit and that same iron mettle the kid was blessed with. She would fight to the death for his son. Of this John had no doubt. Mary help him when Dean woke up, because he had a feeling it would go both ways.

Dean curled into a protective ball. "Why do all bad things happen to me in a barn?" Not that anyone answered him it just felt good to say it out load. The remaining Winchester the one with the unconquerable soul heard the telltale turn over of the trucks engine.

'What he had done to make his father do this? 'I have not winced nor cried aloud, under the bludgeoning chance, my head is bloody but unbowed.' He was a good son, a good solider. Up until this point he fought long and hard, side by side with his Dad. 'Holy fuck his body hurt.' Though he was hard pressed to say it hurt worse than the pain in his heart.

The last thing he remembered before he let the sweet serenity of unconsciousness claim him was humming the song Disposable Heroes by Metallica and thinking that is what he had become. It should have been a theme song for the Winchester brothers. …Disposable Bodies fill the fields I see hungry heroes end. No one to play soldier now, no one to pretend... Dean's face was grim as he attempted to move no he couldn't play solider now he couldn't even pretend.

…Victim of what said should be a servant till I fall… Guess I fell the vitiated hunter contemplated. Does that mean I am done now? …Solider boy made of clay. Now an empty shell... He did feel empty inside, so very empty. …But he served us well… He hoped he had. Bred to kill, not to care... He had killed and killed and killed. But he did care Angel's help him he did.

Just do as we say... He had done what his father had said. Always. …Finished here, greeting death. He's yours to take away... 'To the stars through difficulties,' the Kansas native wondered if this counted, maybe he would get to see his mom now.

…Back to the front, you will do what I say, when I say. Back to the front you will die when I say, you must die... Was this his father's way of giving him permission to pass on now? His addled mind traveled back in time. "Sammy please... I need to know you will be okay. You might be all he has left." A younger weakened Dean said.

"Dean you can't die. You are strong fight it. Fight it for me. Please." His little brothers voice horse with tears, imploring him to live. "Sammy I would do anything for you, including fight. My body might not be as strong as my will." His own voice raw with sickness his dimpled check bruised. Matching tears rolled off his chin.

The brothers sniffled. "It has to be." The kid said it with such confidence, they both believed him. There was no Sammy here to tell him to tell him to fight it now. …Back to the front you coward you servant you blind man… He was blind he didn't this coming. But wasn't any coward, no he hadn't winced or cried aloud. If he was going to die he was going to be a man about it.

Why, am I dying? Yes, he was. Kill, I have no fear… He was afraid. Not of the passing on, he had made peace with the after life long ago. No he was afraid of leaving Sammy. Then there would be no one stop his cool brother extraordinaire from becoming like their father.

…Lie, live off lying… That's what the Winchester's did. Hell hell is here... Yes, for him hell was a fucking barn. I was born for dying… His eyes were closing eternal sleep was in his grasp. …Had no chance to see myself, molded by the day. Looking back I realize, nothing have I done... Nothing but be a good son. Haven't I? ...Left to die with only friend alone… Alone, story of his life. Everyone left him in the end. When you are alone the demons come. With that he let the blackness consume him.

May 30, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

Dean was in and out of consciousness for what he thought was hours. When he finally opened his eyes and could focus he realized the following. One he was on a bed a very comfy bed, truth be told. Was that one of those pillow top mattresses? What a great invention this corpulent coffin.

Two his body felt strangely like it was floating and considering the beating he had taken that meant he was on drugs – the good kind. Three the most important, he was companionless, singly, isolated, cloistered, solitary. In other words he was alone. All alone.

What was he to do? Salty liquid traced a bumpy path down his checks; he brought his marred hands to his red rimmed eyes. 'Beyond this place of wrath and tears looms but the horror of the shade...' He let his hands fall to rest on cotton boxers he didn't remember owning. '...and yet the menace of the years finds, and shall find me, unafraid.' Dean wasn't afraid. He found he was at peace.

Dean attempted to concentrate on his surroundings. It looked as if he was in a cabin. A swank cabin, but a cabin nonetheless. One can only dress a log so many ways. Shifting his weight a little he gingerly moved so that he was sitting up right. No fish swam past his eyes that had to be a good sign.

Moving the notably soft covers he looked down at his ravaged body. Then delicately felt his face. His fingers traced the small stitches that covered various areas on his physiognomy. Who had patched him up? Dean took stock of his person. His body was clean, not a trace of blood to be found.

His ribs were wrapped, expertly. In all his years of fighting his poor ribs were the most assaulted area. Great, at this point he figured there was no solid bone left, just a Jell-o like substance. His right leg was ensconced in an immobilizer.

The urge to find a mirror was great yet equally not so great. The picture wasn't going to be a calm landscape. More like a Kansas tornado. Dean carefully held his bound leg and put his feet on the ground. His hand instinctively went to the night table to steady himself. When his fingers gripped the corner he saw the object he had been contemplating. 'Well wasn't that nice?' Someone read his thoughts. The mirror had a note attached to it. 'Interesting, very, very interesting.'

Dear Mr. Winchester, I know how much you value your looks. Please take heart when you look at your reflection. The stitches shouldn't leave deep scars, what they do leave will only make the ladies think you more sexy. Remember if you drop the mirror it is seven years bad luck. And let's face it you don't need any more bad luck.

Dean let out a half laugh, half groan. A Florence Nightingale with a sense of humor. He gave himself a quick peek. Holy shit, he put the cheval down. He wasn't ready. Next to the small black handled looking glass was a pitcher of water and a cup. The sunflower adorned carafe and matching mug were made out of plastic. Dean figured this way if knocked them over, no glass shards, no more cuts.

Finishing the inventory of the varnished wood surface he noted a bottle of painkillers. Laying next to the senders to la la land were a remote and his rosewood box. 'Wait a minute, his rosewood box.' Each of these items had post it notes attached. Mr. Winchester, these are high-grade painkillers, please use responsibly. Who the hell was this person?

Mr. Winchester, the water is room temperature and not laced with anything. When he read the note on the box he had to steady his hand. Mr. Winchester, in light of your recent altercation, I thought (given what I have heard) you might want these to read while you were recuperating. Reading calms the heart and soothes the soul.

Mr. Winchester, this remote controls the compact disk player on the dresser, I tried to make sure there was a selection you would approve of. Music can often provide us a much needed escape from the outside world. Please note, disks are different than the cassette tapes you are used to, if you don't like a song, hit the button that says skip.

Using one hand to steady his unsure legs Dean used the other to pick up the remote. Compact disk player, 'ha I am not that out of touch with current electronic contraptions,' he thought, 'I do know what a cd player is, just never owned one.' Dean clicked the music box on hoping but not really caring if he approved of the options, the silence was deafening.

The halcyon sounds of Bob Dylan's Death is Not the End filled the room. …When you're sad and when you're lonely and you haven't got a friend… Friends, who needed friends? They were over rated. Just remember death is not the end. All that you've held sacred, falls down does not mend. Just remember death is not the end… Family, his family was all he held sacred. 'Would it never mend?'

Florence had a unique sense of comfort. In someone ways this did offer him solace. His mother loved the tambourine man. His father would listen to him when he couldn't sleep. It was one of the few good things he passed on to Sam. There were times Mr. Dylan would be the only thing to get an upset Sammy to bed.

…When you're standing at the crossroads that you cannot comprehend… It wouldn't be till much later that he would stand at that crossroads, but stand at it he would. …Just remember death is not the end. And all your dreams have vanished and you don't know what's up the bend. Just remember death is not the end… Dean sighed he didn't even know what his dreams were anymore he had suppressed them for such a long time. As far as what was up the bend, his laugh rang hallow, he would imagine the proverbial paddle his father used to thrash him with.

…When the storm clouds gather 'round you, and heavy rains descend. Just remember death is not the end. And there's no one there to comfort you, with a helpin' hand to lend. Just remember that death is not the end…Alone, the injured man thought. I am all alone, no helping hand in sight. All though he did have to admit who ever his Angel of Mercy was they had tried.

Realizing he wasn't ready to make a go at real moving he poured himself a glass of unlaced water and sat back down on the plushy surface. Following the suggestion of the note on his rosewood box he proceeded to do just that, read a couple of his Amos and Craven stories. As his hazel eyes skimmed the hand written words, he could feel his body relax the tension easing out every so slightly. Whoever this unknown person was, Dean blessed them.

At one point he had to go to the bathroom he couldn't put it off any longer. Remembering the feral blow to his kidney, he didn't even want to think of the pain that was going to cause. Oh and the sucker punch to Mr. Wiggly. He cringed at the thought of Mr. Wiggly trying to wiggle.

Gone was his cavalier attitude of pain, ha I can handle anything. It had been replaced with, fuck it was going to hurt but it has to be done. Not for the first time since the savage pummeling he received did he wonder what the in the hell had happened with his Dad? How had he failed him? 'Get better dumb shit and find out.'

Dean swung his legs off the bed well made a decent attempt anyhow. Why was his leg immobilized? He didn't remember his father doing anything to that particular extremity. Crimney the brace was awkward. His limbs on solid ground he looked at the floor making sure there were no obstacles obstructing his path. On his pass by he spied a pan and of course another note.

Gently and with a smile he bent down grabbed the basin as well as the sticky piece of yellow paper. Mr. Winchester, in case you had a reaction to the drugs or needed to relieve yourself and couldn't make it. Dean chuckled, so Florence was a woman. No self respecting man would say relieve yourself. Take a leak maybe, but not relieve yourself. Grimacing, he knew it would be very slow going but he could and would make it to the porcelain god.

Still he sent a silent thanks to who ever his Angel was. Dean pushed himself to a standing position, well teetering unstably. He looked at the table and noticed that to the side of it rested a cane. Angel, you rock like a hurricane. Grabbing the walking aide he looked for a missive. He was not disappointed. Mr. Winchester, in case you found yourself needing some assistance. Beside chicks dig men with swaggers. This chick was a laugh a minute.

The limping man was not surprised to find the bathroom stocked and notes aplenty. This girl was nothing if not diligent and funny besides. All though he sincerely wished she would she please stop calling him Mr. Winchester. That was his father or paternal unit. Father made it sound like he gave a damn. No he wasn't Mr. Winchester he was just Dean, Mr. Winchester's bent over a bucket son.

The bathroom mirror held a sign, apparently a post it wasn't good enough. More than likely it was that his Angel wanted him forewarned. The small handheld reflector of images had he really looked at it would not have showed much. This huge ass one, well ain't no missing all his bumps and bruises.

Mr. Winchester you really don't look so bad. You might even make the cover of the John Deere Catalogue. Be careful brushing, the inside of your mouth is still pretty cut. I would advise against Listerine for a few days. If I can deal with your breath, so can you.

Dean removed the communiqué off the obscenely large glass. Okay maybe it wasn't, he just was more than a little reticent to actually see himself. Then it would all be real. Was that a smiley face? 'Ha.' Putting a hand up to his cracked lips, the man with the swollen mouth breathed. Ugh. He mimicked the note. 'If I can deal with your breath, so can you.' The injured party finished by sticking his tongue out. 'Was that a cut? Was there any part of him that remained unscathed?'

He looked at his face, really studied it. From the neck up he was so discolored that the small patches that weren't looked abnormal. Apprehensively the hunter glanced at the toilet and was relieved to see no notes. At least his Angel left him a small amount of male dignity. Taking a piss didn't hurt nearly as much as he thought. Must be the sweet ass drugs he was on.

Task completed he and his cane went to explore the rest of the cabin. Not that there was that much to investigate which was good because the going was slow. The cabin had a living room with a television that worked, he checked. A fireplace with a healthy supply of logs no more than three high. His Angel apparently didn't want him trying to lift his arms too high too soon. A linen closet with clean linens and a note informing Mr. Winchester please leave the dirty ones in the clear plastic container. Completing his tour was a kitchen.

The fridge held an actual piece of paper not just a post it. A regular size, like they mirror had. Greetings Mr. Winchester, I do hope this note finds you in better spirits. In the old looking but trusty ice box you will find a compliment of foods. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes (from the potato – no boxed mix), to this Dean replied, "Perish the thought."

His throat got tight, Sam had made him real mashed potatoes for his last birthday. "These are real spuds, no out of the box shit on your birthday." Shaking his head to clear the memory he continued reading, zucchini squash and carrots, all steamed. As well as a generous supply of spilt pea soup, with ham.

How did this chick know him so well? She had prepared his favorite foods. The bathroom was stocked with his brand of toothpaste and shaving cream. Although with that one she informed him Mr. Winchester, it might be a while before you actually get to use it. The music was a 'selection he approved of.'

'Focus Dean,' back to the note. Several peaches and pears all sliced. For your sugar cravings there is Oreo flavored ice cream in the freezer. Go easy on it though. Your jaw might not be ready for the crunching. 'cluck a duck,' it was that bad. To drink there is milk, white grape juice and hot cocoa aplenty in the large pot adorned with a sunflower on the counter. No beer for now, you are on to many drugs. Cheers.

Hell fucking hilarious. At least he was bandaged and clean. Okay she had done more. Plush sheets on a heavenly bed, he had never rested his head on anything that nice. The boxers he was currently sporting were softer than any he had ever owned. Meals cooked for him, wow. His bastard of a father only did it when he was real young or sick. Sam had only on special occasions.

Reaching a marred hand to the silver handle Dean opened the ole time fridge to find everything in meal size microwavable Tupperware bowls or plates. 'Nice,' he could get used to this. Food prepared, not having to lift a finger. The devitalized man let out a sad laugh. Who was he kidding? He was the one that normally did these things for others. It felt strange to have someone take care of him. He felt out of place.

Not wanting to temp fate the dirty blond opted for the split pea and some milk. He popped a green Tupperware bowl in the white micro. Then he spent the next two minutes while his soup was heating checking the drawers for contents. Old habits die hard. 'Know your surroundings Dean you never know when it will come in handy.' The wounded warrior leaning on his cane was curious how long he would continue to hear his father's instructions in his vexed head.

With the silverware he found another note in an envelope this time. He was moving up in the world, an envelope. Wowwie, this girl was nothing if not meticulous and apparently never at a loss for something to say. This memorandum however was different from the rest.

First it was sheathed in a protective carrier, second it was formally addressed in big block letters to Dean C. Winchester. The back was adorned with the admonishment Please don't read until you have eaten. 'Well hell sweetheart,' it was the least he could do, given everything she had done for him. No one would have known if he didn't but he waited.

Despite what he discovered was an extremely sore and still somewhat swollen mouth; his was still able to enjoy his food. Choosing the green marvel had been the prudent choice, slides down easy and was filled with great flavor. When the isolated man finished his repast he headed back to the kitchen. Without thinking about what he was doing he washed and dried the container putting in the cupboard. Some things were just route. You don't think you do.

The action of moving his arm up almost even with his head caused his body to twinge. Slowly and with great care he rested it on the white tiled counter top. His eyes roamed the area they stopped when they came to thelarge pot adorned with a sunflower. Smiling he did something he hadn't done in ages, made himself a cup of hot chocolate.

With the cocoa delight and letter in one hand, wooden staff in the other. The well feed twenty six year old made his way to the living room. Gradually he lowered his nearly triturated meat suit in to the overstuffed brown leather chair. Dean placed his walking assistant down beside him and took a long drink of the hot chocolate, which to his surprise came with mini marsh mellows. The note in the jar told him, Mr. Winchester - For your marsh mellow fix, sorry it's not in a chocolate sandwich.

Assuaged and sated he opened the letter. Dean – By this time you must hate the Mr. Winchester bit. Dean laughed, 'no shit sweetheart.' My employer is a friend of your fathers. Whom at this moment is I am guessing is not your favorite person. Girl was a mind reader. No his Dad was at the bottom of the list of people he would like to see, despite his not wanting to fly solo.

Your father asked him for help with this situation (my apologizes, just don't know what else to call it) and you got me. 'This situation.' Dean figured there were worse people. At least his Angel had taken care of him. You have been in and out of consciousness for about a week. 'Holy shit, a week!'

I arrived at the barn about thirty minutes after your father left. Before you ask, no I did not know what was going to happen. Just to be in the area and await instruction. Exciting place the show me state. Funny though it was the state motto, not the nickname he couldn't get out of his bruised head. 'The welfare of the people shall be the supreme law.' Guess John Winchester was absent the day they taught that in school.

When I laid eyes on you, I thought you were dead. But you are a born fighter. When I touched you, you came up swinging. Have the pretty multicolor bruises on my cheek to prove it. 'Oh hell,' he hit a girl. Never in his life had he hit a girl. The fact that he had made his stomach knot more than it already was. For it to be one that helped him. He sent a silent apology to his Angel

At which point I gave you a sedative, please forgive me, its just you needed to be calm for the ride and didn't think you wanted to feel every bump. Forgive her he was gratefulHis mind wandered to Chadron, Nebraska and that bumpy ride back to the place they were staying the week before his ninth birthday. His posterior felt every knock in the road, even though he had to admit, 'that man,' made every effort to avoid them.

Once you were wrestled inside, you my boy are not a lightweight. I cut your clothes off, sorry they were not going to make it. Great tee shirt too, 'a lover and a fighter.' Was able to save your Caterpillars though and even got 90 percent of the blood. The other ten percent, well they give your boots character and boots need character. 'Thank you,' they were his favorite shoes, he said with a chuckle at her wit to the piece of paper that had as a background, seriously this was starting to become a pattern, a sunflower.

Washed you down with bedadine and antiseptic. Can't say you were all that thrilled about the antiseptic part, if I could have figured out another way. What in the hell was it with that phrase? His Dad, no paternal unit had said those same words, 'figured out another way.' His Angel he could understand, that man, no.

Had to set your leg, seems your Dad dislocated your kneecap. Judging by the impression of wings on the inside of your limb your father put his Red Wings on your connecting joint and well you get the picture. Dear Sweet Saint Bridget, please know I didn't mean to cause you that kind of pain, but you are big boy, solid big boy. And I am one lone girl. Did the best I could with what I had. You didn't cause my pain sweetness that man did. Holy shit, that man was angry enough he dislocated his kneecap. Son of – Well that explains the immobilizer. 'Dear Sweet Saint Bridget?'

At this point would advise against tipping the light fantastic for a while, unless you want to see the lights tipping before your eyes. Laughing, the six foot one Winchester shifted his body to make it more comfortable. Then he picked up the ceramic mug also adorned with a sunflower, he wondered if everything was themed on purpose, and took another sip. Him tipping the light fantastic, he rarely ever danced. Vertically anyhow.

'Eyes back to the letter.' Onto your ribs, you will be happy to learn that while you have several cracked ones, none were actually broken in the Great Missouri Barn Incident. Though am sure it still hurts like a bitch. His Angel had a wonderful command of the English language. It did hurt like a bitch. 'Great Missouri Barn Incident.' He wondered how many states he could rack up barn incidents in.

That man had a short list of rules that when broken would result in corporal punishment. Don't break them don't get whacked. He told the boys there were other ways of making them fall in line, he didn't like physical reprimanding it made him sick. 'Trust me sir it makes me sick too.' He didn't understand, up until this point that man had only loved him. Oh sure his Dad had smacked him, but only when he deserved it, only when it was really earned. Even then he could count the number of times his Dad really busted his ass. This, what the hell had he done to deserve this?

Your back had a nail in it, from what I could tell, you feel on it. Was a fun challenge to clean, dress and stitch the open gash. You were leaning against me, have I mentioned you are not a light weight? Anyhow I digress had to sew over you. Made sure to give you a tetanus shot just in case. Well hell, of course Dean thought as he drained the last of the chocolaty goodness. Didn't surprise him one bit, this chick seemed like the kind of person to make sure he received all his shots. Although she hadn't left him a lollipop, maybe he should file a grievance.

If you are not sitting for the next part, I might suggest it. My throat was tight as took care of the following in the long list of things your fricking jackass of a father did to your person. Personally I consider them to be the worst. The worst huh, what did she consider worse than a dislocated kneecap?

Know that my heart actually breaks to tell you this part. You back has tell tale welts. The other injuries, well okay, well not okay. It's just the welts, Dean I am so very sorry. Did what I could for them. John Winchester actually beat his twenty six year old son with a belt, what a piece of shit. Guess that is what he thought of his son too.

August 10, 2001Blue Earth, Minnesota

The witching hour had just ended. The moon was high in the sky. Dean always loved looking at the silver sphere. He found that when he did everything else fell away. Hours earlier he and Jim had cleaned up the kitchen. They knew John wouldn't be back for a while. The twenty three year old waited till he figured the Pastor had turned in. Then quietly still clad in his 'Rock Never Dies' tee shirt he slipped out of the house.

Until you've been beside a man you don't know what he wants… Oh Sammy, you sitting next to me would be a start. You don't know if he cries at night... Dean would be hard pressed to admit it, but yeah there were nights he did cry himself to sleep. You don't know if he don't... Sammy knew, just kept it to himself.

When nothing comes easy, old nightmares are real… What if Dad never comes back? He might decide now that the good son is gone he had nothing to return to. Until you have been beside a man you don't know how he feels… Before he could answer the lyrics of Bob Seger's Shame on the Moon in his mind, the person that put them there in the first place called.

The young hunter had been so deep in the thought he jumped when his phone went off. 'Get a grip dude, get a grip.' He said to himself as he retrieved the noisy offender out of his pocket. Flipping open the phone the solitary Winchester on the veranda checked the caller id. He closed his eyes, kid had a sixth sense, he just must.

"Sammy? Dude what in the hell are you calling so late for?" The older brother jived his younger. Then before the officially now a college student could answer the over protective streak in Dean took over. "Are you hurt? Did something happen?" "Dean!" The currently in California brother half yelled. He knew he had to get his big brothers attention, yelling his name had always worked in the past. "What?" Sam smiled to himself when he had succeeded.

"I couldn't sleep." 'Ah' Dean thought, he recognized this particular ploy. He took a calming breath to bring his racing heart back to a normal speed. Couldn't sleep he could deal with. "Couldn't sleep? Geek boy, that bed is a thing of wonder. I would be way into dreamland by now. Shit, I would have a fine piece a…" "Dean, please." Sam sounded worried. Okay the currently in Minnesota brother reflected maybe it was a little worse than he thought.

"Dean please. Please what? You want me to read you a bed time story?" He was monkey shining hoping to extract what ever the conundrum was out of Sam. "Would you if I asked?" It was the desperation in his cool brother extraordinare's voice that got to him. "Don't know depends, can I read one out of Hustler?" Sam sighed. "You are at Jim's you respect him enough not to have any there."

Things weren't to bad if Mr. Detail could still point out the small stuff. Although something was wrong, geek boy was gripping the phone like a lifeline, he could tell. There were times when the shit used the little things as his defense tactic. 'Why can't it be easy?' He questioned the man in the moon.

To Sam, "What's the matter Sammy?" When the young man sitting with his knees to his chest heard the concern, the anxiety in his big brothers voice he went for it. He knew Dean wouldn't crack any jokes, not this time. "I can't sleep. Its dark here." He rested his chin on his jeans covered knees. "I am alone."

'Ah, here it was the real issue.' "Alone ain't so bad. Just think you could flop this way and that. When you snore like a freight train, there won't be a pillow landing on the back of your head to shut you the hell up." Hearing his brother's voice was soothing. His bestest brother always knew the right things to say. The lanky six foot four no longer a hunter inched his way out of the protective half ball he was in. "Yeah, I don't think I would mind a pillow tossed on my head right now."

'Oh Sammy.' "Thump." Dean said as loud as he dared so as not wake Jim. "Ow, what'd you do that for?" Sam fell back into their game. "Because freight train, I would like to get some sleep." The concern in the older sibling's voice was evident, but that didn't make the younger any less appreciative. "So would I." The caretaker spoke to his charge until he could hear the even breathes that meant Sam was asleep. Then before he hung up, "I love you Sammy, don't think for a second I won't come slay the dragons if need be."

After his conversation with the stray out in the land of sun the older brother closed his phone and rested his head against it. When he brought his cranium back up his emotions were back under wraps. Dean rolled his neck hoping to release some of the tension. The exhausted man used his one of his hands to try and work out a knot.

'Fuck,' he thought. In the last twenty four hours there had been entirely too many chick conversations for him. It wasn't over yet either. The front porch steps and the Man in the Moon kept him company in his vigil for his father. It was just past two in the morning when John Winchester and his trusty Chevy pick up pulled down the drive. His dark eyes locked with his son's. Dean didn't turn away he just kept looking at his Dad. They both required something, that unnamed but much talked about 'something.'

The heavy hearted parent parked his beat up vehicle behind the Impala. He took his time exiting. The spent father knew he and the kid were going to have to talk. They were both aching with pain, the kind that couldn't be fixed with a Band Aid. Dean needed it and not that he would admit it but he yearned for it to.

By the time he made it to the front porch he was confident he could make it through the impending conversation without cracking in front of his boy. Emotional displays were not easy for him. Although he tried when the situation called for it. The rag a muffin in front of him could play down his abilities all he wanted, hide behind whatever wall he felt safe. Dean could turn it on and take care of any dilemma making everyone feel better in the process. He got that from his mother and grandfather. The one he hadn't met.

"Dad." His son said with a turn of his head. John swallowed normally Dean was cocky and happy go lucky. Tonight he was serious, all business. No joking in those hazels eyes, her eyes. Being serious and all business was John's job. Dean's was being the stabilizer when everything wasn't as it should be. 'Oh Mary, I have failed this family. Our boys.' "Dean." The exhausted father put a steadying hand on his child's shoulder as he sat next to him.

Once seated on the porch steps, John straightened his coat. It was cold for early August. Winter must be coming early this year. When he rested his hands over his knees he heard a sigh. Then to his shock a dirty blond head came to rest on his shoulder. This was something his son had done all the time when he was little and would sit with John. The father figured tonight if Dean could break from the detached bravado code so could he. He leaned his head on top of Dean's.

They two abandoned Winchesters sat staring at nothing and thinking about everything for quite a while. When Dean spoke John was a little startled. Just like he had that night many many moons ago. "I am ready Dad." The father couldn't stop the nervous laugh that had escaped him. Hazel eyes stared at him. Slowly Dean enunciated the words, watching his father's face. John smiled his progeny was making sure he hadn't cracked. "Dad, are you all right?"

Shaking his head he put an arm around Dean. "Imp, I am sorry I laughed." Dean's throat bobbed at the use of the nickname. The arm around his son tightened. "Do you know you used that same phrase the night of the barn incident?" The hazel eyes looked down suddenly interested in the wood groves of the stairs.

John continued. "Here we were sitting have a man to man discussion. You told me as serious as they come how you had to save me." Without moving his gaze from the steps the young man replied. "I did. You were going anywhere spanking be damned." The kid took a breath. "Sorry sir." The father chuckled. "I'll let it pass." He could see the beginnings of a smile on his boy's face.

"Anyhow, after your declaration I held you tight. My heart was still in flex, all I could think was I could have lost you. My baby." Dean's nose wrinkled at the phrase, but he said nothing. "My mind was still turning over the events of the night and out of no where. I am ready Dad." A chuckle escaped the lips that had recently formed into a thoughtful smile.

Before he lost the nerve the tough on the exterior former Marine continued. "I decided firmly in that moment you were the most valiant person I knew." Before he could stop himself the still tired from driving half way across country twenty three year old said. "But I wasn't even nine." The older man smiled. For all his son's intelligence, his ability to filler life's challenges, there were times when he didn't see the obvious. "Courage has nothing to do with age Dean. It comes from somewhere inside you."

The father watched his son do something he himself did all the time. Run a shaking hand over his face. It was a calming action. "Don't son. There is no reason to be ashamed." He gave the boy's shoulder one more squeeze. "So tell me. What are you ready for?" Genuinely laughing Dean replied, "well not for a turn over your knee." John lips cracked upwards he joined in the mirth with his son.

Taking a deep breath the remaining of his two sons looked at him and smiled. That smile, he knew that smile. Despite what his youngest thought, he did know their tells. Angels above, what had the shit done? John watched in interest as Dean turned and fidgeted with something. When he brought his hands into view the dark haired man smiled. "Coffee?" The flannel clad man reached a hand over taking the mug. "Thank you. I guess you figured I might need a bolster for whatever it was you said.

Lips twitched and eventually turned up into a smile. "Yes sir. That and I thought we might watch the moon go down. You know give ourselves a change from watching the sun come up." John cracked a grin at the relaxation tactic his son was employing. The kid took care of everyone.

"Not that I am big on talking Dad, I just think we need to acknowledge the…" Dean's sigh was so big they both chuckled. "…acknowledge the loss." It was the fathers turn to run a shaking hand over his face. The young man sitting next to him was without a doubt the bravest man he knew.

"I know son, I know. Please don't think that I don't miss or love your brother. I just want him to be safe. Safety is in numbers…" Clearing a suddenly tight throat the remaining son looked at his cup and took a sip. "I know Dad, I know." In some ways they were so alike.

As the parent observed his child he had a thought. "Dean Christopher Winchester?" The person in question steeled his features and brought his face to his father. "Yes sir?" The father put his battery acid down and brought a hand to his progeny's face, without thinking about what he was doing he traced a thumb across the scar under the boy's eye.

"No sir, just Dad." The younger hunter's face relaxed. His poor boy he had been through enough in last few weeks and more than enough in his short life. "It just occurred to me, you are drinking coffee." Laughing Dean answered the statement that was a thinly asked question. "Yes and it tastes horrible. How do you drink this stuff?" In some ways they were so different.

While watching the silver protector of the sky the abandoned men talked about the important things. Words were spoken that had been clawing to get out. Including about that night. "Dean, it might be a little late but I would like to talk about that night." The poor kid looked away. He was still uncomfortable about the whole ordeal.

"Dad, please it was along time ago. It was the first of many times I disappointed you." That was what he thought? Disappointed him? 'Oh Mary, give me the words.' John brought his hands to his son's face holding it so that Dean had to look at him.

"I have never in my life been disappointed in you, especially not that night. It takes an iron fortitude in a man to walk into battle not knowing if he will live or die. Not caring as long as he saves his fellow solider in arms. You have that indomitable strength Dean, you always have. It stuck me how much like me you were, like father like son." Dean's sober features slipped he attempted a little levity. "That's why struck me on my bum?"

A tear escaped John's dark eye. The unexpected action caused concern. The son watched his father's face as another water work leaked out of the other eye. "No, that was a reaction to the terror of seeing my lionhearted still eight year old narrowly escape being speared through the head with a hay pick." John's hands tighten slightly on his son's checks. Dean listened quietly as his father bared parts of his soul. "The point is I love you Dean. I am honored to know you." He let his hands fall. The warriors took long sips out of their liquid dispensers.

"You will never know the pain it caused me to take you outside that night. My stomach was knotted the whole time. My heart was pounding. My feet felt like cement." Trying to give his Dad a breather, neither very comfortable with showing and sharing. Dean cracked a joke, "so did your hand." Instead of a grin or a laugh his father chocked down a sob. Crashed and burned sonny boy, crashed and burned. "Oh Imp. You will never know. Just the fact that you wanted to save me, you loved me enough to..." John looked at his son imploring him to understand.

"When I unbuckled my belt, I wanted to retch right there. I told myself and your mother I would never become my father and in that moment I felt I failed." Dean touched his father's shoulder much the same way the man had his earlier. He did understand, he remembered the one time he meet his grandfather. Evil, that is what the man was. "It's no secret to you how I was raised. You have cleaned enough of my wounds to see the scars."

"Dad you did what you had too." John's face contorted in raw anguish. Dean knew he said the wrong thing. "He used to say that. Just doing what I have to do to make a man out of you. At almost nine you were more a man than anyone I had ever served with." To the surprise of both Winchesters the son reached over and hugged his Dad, tight. "You didn't fail Dad. I didn't disappoint you and you didn't fail." John hugged his first born like he was a lifeline, in fact for the haggard father, he was. "Thank you Dean."

John Winchester had started on his course and intended to finish it. "Imp." He cleared his throat hoping the lump would disappear. "Please know that anytime I had to use force it was to protect you in the end. Not to devitalize you or make you less a man." The son did know. "Dad, please don't think for a minute that I don't love you. You are not grandfather you care and you give a damn. That's why you have done what you have done when you did it." The father laughed. "Come again?"

"Dad please you know I am no good at this chick flick stuff." John smiled, he was a lot better at it than he realized. Dean always knew what to say to make people feel better, even if they didn't always know how to listen. John knew his son's earlier quip was to give him a chance to regain his footing.

"Grandfather was and I know language, a chicken shit. Thank the Angels above you turned out to be nothing like him. You are a strong man, I can think of no one else I admire more. You could have gone off the deep end after mom died and you didn't. You could have turned into that man and ruled with an iron fist, you didn't."

John reached over ruffled the dirty blond hair that was blowing this way and that in the cold air. "Oh Dean, you are…" his voice broke, "Imp, I am proud to walk beside you and will be honored too for the rest of my days."

May 30, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

The recently abused hunter didn't realize his mind had traveled back in time to that night. "Imp, I am proud to walk beside you and will be honored too for the rest of my days." His father had said those words with such conviction he actually believed him. "I am an idiot." The words echoed hallow.

Then I set about the task of your face. Having had the pleasure of seeing a photographic reproduction of you, I can tell you that even with crap beat out of you, the picture didn't do you justice. Sweetheart you are to kind by half. How was that for stroking your male ego? Anyhoo,. Was that another smiling face? He was handsome damn it all to hell. At least she didn't comment on his likeness to that sissy actor on that Superman show.

Was as careful and gentle as could be. Your right eye was swollen shut and your left wasn't far behind. You sorta resembled a raccoon. There were sixteen cuts on your face, five of which required stitches. Your jaw… had to make my hand stop shaking before looking in your mouth. Was really afraid you might be missing teeth. Did inspect the barn before we left… 'Oh no, his pearly whites?' He hadn't checked. His mouth and jaw were still to soar.

You denture set is complete. You will be happy to know your thousand watt smile will live to see another day. Dean laughed out load at that. Your jaw was almost welded closed. Trying to get fluids in you was a pain in the pursqueeter. Girlie was using his phrases she was stand up material. Your fever raged up and down for four days. You were too hot to handle. Using aclassic rock reference nice.

In that time I washed you down and cleaned you up to many times to count. Imagine my rubbing the torso of the great Dean Winchester, getting a great many groans out of him. And the man in question not able to remember one bit of it, guess my talents weren't up to your standards. Sweetheart, you just succeeded in getting another groan out of me. This one you will be happy to know I will remember. You sweat the fever out and hoarked your guts out all over, me included. "Sorry Angel. At least you got to massage my chest. That should have been a thrill." He said his trademark smirk firmly in place.

Then Dean thought. It hit him, 'oh fuck, oh double fuck.' The smirk fell. Was wondering when you would think about that. Am trying to figure out how to put this delicately. Is there a way he thought? Had to help you take care of your business. Due to what I am told was a double assault. One to your kidney and an altercation to your gentlemanly parts… Dean knew he was beyond red at this moment, it wasn't like she was the first girl to see his gentlemanly parts it was just well he was usually gentlemanly about his parts.

…everything was quite enlarged and not in the way you would have liked. He smiled at her attempt to make him feel better. In this case he was guessing the size of the submarine would have sacred the enemy. Not delighted the bunkmate. Followed the doctor's instructions and well you are still there. Your appendage all attached everything where it should be. All attached, was something missing? He hadn't noticed anything when he took a leak. Reaching down he checked, no all there.

Don't think you will be doing the horizontal mambo for a while, but don't worry you will be back inside in no time. 'Back inside in no time? No, more like not for a long time.' Fuck John Winchester, this poor girl had to help him do things like 'relieve him self' and clean up his guts off her. Who knows what else she isn't telling him. Judging by her sincere efforts to make him smile, there was quite a bit.

Moving onto more important things, your baby. Dean, I got to tell you, driving her, she is one fine ride. (That was written with the appropriate sigh.) She drove his car! Least he could do, least he could do. Don't worry she's okay now. Now! Had to put gas and oil in her. Fill the tires and the spare. She is in the detached garage with a chamois blanket covering her. That man messed with his car. That was just wrong. This was all wrong.

Your keys, wallet… (there is five hundred in the billfold, use it wisely) She left him money? Shouldn't it have been the other way around? … and two cell phones are in the nightstand drawer. Two cell phones? One you will recognize as yours, somehow it escaped damage. The other is an emergency phone, if something happens or your condition takes a nose drive. Pound one will get me. Other wise Dean you will heal, both your heart and body. Though I imagine the heart will take longer. Please forgive me for leaving you with a quote it just seemed appropriate.

Out of the night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be, for my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance, I have not winced nor cried aloud, under the bludgeoning of chance, my head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears looms but the horror of the shade, and yet the menace of the years finds, and shall find me, unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishment the scroll, I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.

Smiling a sad smile, Invictus, by William Earnest Henley. There was no way she could have known. Dean tucked the note in the band of his pants grabbed the now empty fluid container, cane and headed back to the kitchen. The mentally exhausted man cleaned and rinsed the sunflower adorned ceramic. He found the practice strangely cathartic. Then with determination in his limp the no longer cocky twenty six year old made he was towards the bedroom. Securing his keys from the dresser he penguin walked out to see his baby.

By the time he made it all the way to his car... 'Really was it necessary to put a garage one hundred miles from the house?' …he was winded and sweating. Knowing it was a corporeal connection to everything he held dear he sat in the driver's seat hoping that he would be find that unnamed something. His breath was still uneven he rested his stitched head on the steering wheel while he tried to get his inhalation and exhalations under control.

As soon as the disparaged hunter felt they were he reached over to the tape player. When he went to push the gift from Sam into the machine he realized his ring was gone. 'Figures. Maybe it is a sign.' More than likely though, his hands swelled and his Angel, being the assiduous person she was, removed it.

Clad in only a black tee shirt and the way to soft for their own good boxers Dean sat in his baby. By the time he had listened to an entire tape he felt his heart rate return too normal. Knowing he needed to make the long ass trek back to the house before dark, he exited the vehicle.

Holy crap how many more steps was the walk back to the cabin. Fifty feet seemed like five thousand miles. When he reached the door he steadied himself. His breath was again becoming labored. Freight trains made less noise. 'Never let the enemy hear you coming.' By the time he got back to the bedroom, which the hunter was convinced took an hour; it was all he could do to not pass out.

Okay Dean my boy. It's nappy nap time. His dreams were filled with broken down and destructed images. "Dean, Dean." Sammy was yelling he needed help. "Dean! Dean!" The more his subconscious listened, the more it became cognizant of the fact it was his father. "Wake up sissy, take your beating like a man."

December 15, 1993Weeping Water, Nebraska

"Dean, what if she gets me?" A nervous eleven year old Sam asked. "Sam, Dad has his sights trained on her. You know how good a shot he is." Brown green windows of doubt looked at him. Sighing Dean continued, "Just stay where I can see you Amos. Promise me." "I promise Craven." Dean smiled they used their code names when they were ignoring fear. Then he ruffled his little brother's hair, hair that had a complete mind of its own.

Wind was howling, his not wanting to wake mind amplified the sound, then twisted it. 'Why was the wind howling?' "Dean I am scared." Before Dean could answer he heard John's voice in his ear. "Shut him the fuck up." Oh hell it was going to be one of those nights he thought. "Sammy, you have to be quiet, please."

Fire. He could smell it the smoke. It was saturating him. Sammy was disappearing he had to save him. The still asleep body fought against it. Fire. It terrified him. His brother was walking towards him. His subconscious yelled at him to stop. "Don't Sammy, don't." He was going to loose everything, no amount of battle was going to change it.

Before his distorted mind could scream again, the apparition had it transparent hands on his brother. He ran the ghost into the water where he stayed nearly frozen for almost an hour. Still in a coma his body rattled from the cold, to his brain he was in the river.

His Dad wouldn't let him out, made him stand in there. 'What was he yelling?' He felt the sting of the punch on his check, his hand reached out of the dream sequence to touch it. "Get up Dean, take it like a man." He could feel the spittle from the furious man's lips.

May 31, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

The denigrated dirty blond awoke with a start. 'Take your beating like a man. He Dad had said take it like a man, he never used the phrase beating, ever. Oh hell, it took him a minute. Where was he? Was he in Nebraska? Where was Sam?' His eyes concentrated on the wall in front of him he recalled where he was. Actually all he knew was a cabin he assumed he was still in Missouri.

Fuck, his heart felt as if it was going to hammer out of his discolored chest. How he got the cell phone out of the nightstand he will never know. Pound one. Ring, ring. She said pound one would get her. Half a ring later, a groggy female voice answered. "Mr. Winchester, is everything okay?" The girl on the other end of the phone asked, sleep still perceptible in her speech. "Angel, what's wrong with me?" The minute she heard the fear in his voice she woke right up.

"Angel?" His voice was tight. "Mr. Winchester, stay with me. Talk to me, tell me what is happening." "My heart…" The maligned warrior tried to breath. "…is racing it feels like it is on the part of route 66 that…" he struggled to the statement out. "…leads to nowhere."

One complete inhale and exhale. "The dreams, oh fuck. Please make them go away. My head it going to explode. The room is swimming. I hate Nebraska." "Mr. Winche…" The nursemaid tried to get out. "Damn it Angel call me Dean." The pleading nature of the request did not go unnoted. 'Okay no Mr. Winchester, got it. And he hates Nebraska. Nebraska what does that have to do with anything?'

"Dean do you see the red button on your phone?" She kept her voice calm. "Yes." The one word answer was shaky. "Press it. Can you hear me?" The girl maintained her even tone, no need to spook him. "Is that a speaker phone?" She chuckled she had a nice sounding chuckle. "Yes Dean it is. Now, prop the pillows up on the bed so that you can lean against them." His Angel's serene voice was leading him out of the fog.

"My head, what is wrong with my head?" The alarm in the statement was had to ignore. While she was talking with the abused man she opened her laptop accessed a file and started typing. The caregiver with the moniker Angel choose a new tactic. "Other than the fact it was repeatedly bashed?" His strangled laugh and retort gave her hope. "Angel, your humor is waning." "Easy there Kansas." Two could play at that game.

"Did you take any of the painkillers?" The Florence in her took over. "No. I don't like drugs." For such a gregarious person, his reply was small. "That's why. Heart racing, head pounding, nightmare like dreams, am going to guess you are sweating?" "Yes." Again with the diminutive tone, fear, he was disquieted. "You are coming off the drugs, they did come a high grade warning." He vaguely remembered the post it.

"Am sorry Dean. It's only going to get worse before it gets better. I won't leave you though." Those words eased his palpating heart. "Are you going to come back?" The pure hope it the question attacked her. "My employer only approved being with you while you were unconscious." "Angel, please." She could hear the desperation in the plea. 'Damn it.' He hated to beg, but he didn't want to be alone. She heard him reach violently.

"Make sure to sit up Dean, don't aspirate." He heard her rustling. That was a good sign maybe she would fly to him. "Angel, there is blood is the vomit. The room is swimming. Black spots, the spots are taking over." His cadence took on that of someone who was not in complete control of his facilities. "Don't pass out on me Kansas. Stay with me."

He was through trying. Sad as it was he had to face the fact no one wanted to be with him. He was yesterday's trash the garbage men didn't even want to pick up. "Oh please. Just let me die." That was the moment the girl who was on the other end of the phone decided she was going to hurt John Winchester if it was the last thing she did. With that thought it mind she threw caution to the wind climbed in her truck and started the ignition.

"Dean Christopher Winchester. Don't you dare say that. Not after everything I went through to make sure that didn't happen." His paternal unit only yelled his full name when he was trying to make an important point. Maybe she did care. "Angel, did you just yell at me?"

Almost there, she was almost there. Angels and saints what was she doing? The cabin was in sight. "Yes, and I will do it again." "Where are you?" He was trying to keep his mind off the fact he was going to die. "On my way, against my better judgment I might add." His Angel wasn't going to leave him. ' Oh shit,' he was going to puke again.

"Kansas, stay with me. Breathe, in through the nose, purse lip it out." He followed her instructions; at least he thought he did. What the hell was a purse lip? Shit he was starting to shake. This was exactly why he said no to drugs, the after effects. "Angel, I'm shaking." "How bad?" She was kidding right? How does one rate shaking? "Spin cycle on a dryer."

She was pulling down the rocky dirt roadway that led to the safe house. "Almost there Kansas, I'm almost there. Stay with me, don't pass out." She heard the tell tale sounds of dry heaving. Bloody hell. The wrath she was going to incur when she was caught. Dean heard a vehicle in front of the wood structure.

"Kansas, you still with me?" She sounded worried. "Yes, still here." His answer was a little spacey. Dean heard the front door opening. "Angel, oh hell its... His Angel opened the bedroom door just in time for him to vomit all over. She smiled at him. Then knelt down and placed a hand to his head, her touch felt cool against his clammy skin.

"Better out than in." Her hand stayed on his stitched forehead. "Anymore hiding in there or think you might be done? At least for the moment?" No remonstration in her questions, just genuine concern. His throat tightened involuntarily. "Think I am done. For now, no promises though." She couldn't help the laugh that escaped. The resignation in his voice was unmistakable.

"Okay Kansas, what do you say we get you fixed up then?" Fixing him up? He wondered what that entailed. Flogging? He wasn't alone that was the important thing. "Let's rock n roll." Her smile increased. "Maintaining your sense of humor is a good sign." "Anything for you Angel." She laughed at the largeness of the statement. "Careful Kansas. I will make sure you live to full fill that vow."

He looked her in the eyes completely serious. "Anything." With that pledge out of the way he promptly spewed what was left of his innards on her lap. "Sorry Angel. I guess I did have more hiding in there." He voice was sheepish. "Its okay Dean, its not the first time. Besides clothes wash." Her words were said only compassion. Eyes twinkling she asked. "How would you feel about taking something that would make this stop?" "Woo-fucking-eee."

Then the aggrieved man coughed and looked at his lap. "Dean?" He was too still. "Sorry again Angel." Why was he apologizing? "About what?" He sighed and replied "my inappropriate language." She bit back a chuckle. "It's not the first time I have heard a bad word." "Yeah well my Dad did raise me with enough manners so as not to curse around woman." She put a gentle hand on his clasped ones. "You are a good man." He wished he felt like it.

His Angel of Mercy stood up and went into the bathroom. When she came back out she had a bottle and a washcloth. He watched her small hand pour a glass of water maintaining eye contact. "Making sure I'm not going to keel over Angel?" No twinkle just concern. "Something like that Kansas, something like that." Finished pouring the still wearing half her pajama's caretaker sat next to her patient.

She held the back of his neck while he got the medicine and water down. Her hand was soft. Lotion, woman used pretty lotions for things like that. 'Wonder what scent she favors?' "Crimney that fucking hurts." He shook his head. "Sorry." She ignored the unneeded apology. "Your throat's going to be a little raw." Hazel eyes looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "Gee, you think?"

He watched as she put the cup back on the nightstand. 'Oh hell,' he head was spinning like a Mid West tornado. She picked up his hand. 'What the?' Florence was taking his pulse. Then she listened to his heart while she watched his chest. Making sure his breathing was returning to normal. Her brown eyes went back to looking at him. Checking his pupils. No flies on her.

His cheeky streak came to the surface before he could stop it. "So Angel, what do you think? Soft hands, strong heart, mesmerizing eyes." She sighed not unlike a patience adult with an unruly toddler, "Kansas, you know you're the cock of the walk. If you don't want to be dust in the wind, shut it." He smiled his patented Dean smile, well tried anyhow. "Nice gratuitous classic rock reference." "Thank you, I try." Was her droll response.

His body was coming down he could feel it. She could too. "What do you say we get this place and you cleaned up?" He frowned. 'Frowning why was he frowning?' "Dean?" She sounded worried. He looked at her eyes filled with, was that shame? "Angel, I am sorry." The strong hunter sounded humiliated. "For what this time?" "This. Having to help clean up." Was that it, poor guy. "Never you mind that Kansas. We're cool."

"I do mind." His eyes pleaded with her to understand. She did. Reaching her hands up, she very, very, very gently held his face. "You did not do this to yourself. Please do not apologize. If anyone should it's your father." His eyes looked down, he felt exenterated.

With a tiny bit of force in her voice the girl whom he called Angel said " please look at me." Dean brought his tortured eyes to her level. Making sure to emphasis each word. "Ain't nobody's fault but his." He eyes twinkled a small bit, "again nice classic rock reference." This time her response was softer, "Thank you, I try." Dropping her hands, she grabbed the remote flipped on the cd player.

Free's, Be My Friend, rent the air. All I need is a friend someone to give a helpin' hand… First she helped him up off the bed and stripped him down. …When I am afraid in the night someone to squeeze me and tell me it's alright… The invalid locked eyes with his nurse. She took his hands squeezed them and with the most beautiful smile he had ever witnessed told him, "it's alright."

Next she took the top off the water dispenser and put the washcloth in. …You know I worry such a lot and I would give all I've got. Just to have someone believe in me. Just to do that and put me back on evenly... The maligned party flinched when she put the rag on abused arm. His sweet Angel looked at him. Concern in her voice, "Did I hurt you?"

Was the great Dean Winchester blushing? "No, I am sorta…" She was staring at him intently. Knowing he was a lovely shade of crimson, must compliment the bruises nicely, he took a deep breath and continued, "…embarrassed." …Baby, baby be my friend. Baby, baby be my friend. Baby, baby be my friend. I will love you till the end…Chuckling she replied "Come on I have heard the talk, I know I am not the first girl to see you without your clothes on, and doubt I'll be the last."

…You make me feel a stronger love than anyone I've ever known. Oh I need someone like you. You give me something so strong and true… She was trying to get him back on solid footing. He didn't disappoint. "Okay, Angel you win. All though what ever the number you heard, I am sure it was greatly exaggerated." Smiling at him indulgently, she went back to work. Task completed, she helped him into new clothes and over to the rather large orange bedside chair.

"Angel, is my baby really okay? Did he hurt her?" The young woman currently changing the sheets on the queen size bed wondered how long it would take for him to ask about the Impala. "No Kansas he didn't. Besides, I know you went out and checked on her."

How did she know? "You watched me? That's kinda creepy." Rolling her eyes as she put a pillowcase on one of the pillows, "No, why would I do that? Of course you would check on your car. Your beautiful care is the one tangible thing you have at this point." The embattled hunter couldn't resist smiling at the way she said beautiful car.

"Psychology 101, Angel?" He bantered. "Dean Winchester 101. Dean - Family - Impala - Hunting - Fucking." She countered as finished bundling the dirty bed coverings. " Angel, you have quite a way of expressing yourself." The young man smirked as he said this. "Such praise for my repartee, what is a girl to do?" She smirked right back.

"All righty then floors clean. Beds ready. Lets get you tucked in." Finally some legendary Dean charm, the phrase tucking him into bed elicited a devilish grin from him. "Thanks for the compliment Kansas, but I'm way out of your league." Her voice was quiet as she said this she really believed it. He was taken back, "why would you say that?" he questioned careful to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

"Maybe your eyesight hasn't completely returned Kansas, the swelling and all. I am not blond, blessed with big girls or a demure figure." She laughed as explained this. "Angel, you rock my world just the way you are." The normally flippant Winchester replied as sincere as they come. "Besides, I don't even know what demure means." Her eyebrow raised in an expression that said, 'oh please.'

The newly arrived visitor helped him sit on the bed then lifted his legs up careful of the clunky brace. Then his nursemaid pulled the covers over his chest, patting the top as she folded it down giving his arms room. He stared at her hand; the unconscious gesture chocked him up. To think after all these years, someone tucked him into bed. Not the other way around.

"Do you think you will be okay while I wash off and change?" Dean gave her a head to toe inspection. The poor girl was currently drenched with his puke. He decided to keep the atmosphere light if he continued the way he was thinking he might just ball. "Can I watch?" A heavy sigh and "I'll take that as a yes," was her exasperated response.

"Going outside for a second." Giving her charge one last appraising look, she exited the room. Then Dean heard her open the front door to the cabin. He could faintly make out the sounds of a door squeaking. When she returned from her vehicle she had a black overnight bag and a leather briefcase. Judging by the indents, a laptop was the current occupant of the satchel.

Smiling at him she questioned the duration of his examination, "are you through now?" Dean swallowed, "yes." Putting her computer bag down on the chair, his Angel gave him a one last look and headed to the bathroom. Mind full to leave the door cracked open in case he called out.

No more than ten minutes later she emerged. What kinda girl takes showers that fast? Even Sammy takes longer. Hell even his Dad, no not Dad, that man and he was a Marine. Hum, interesting very interesting.

With Dean's head and heart returning to normal he was able to focus on his Angel. She was 5'8 maybe. With curves, but pleasing so. She was no size two, but then who needed to be that small. Chicks that tiny break. His Angel seemed a formidable woman. "It takes an iron fortitude in a man to walk into battle not knowing if he will live or die." John's words echoed in his mind. Dean imagined his Angel's had that iron will.

Her eyes were brown, a beautiful brown that looked him without pity only a kindness that warmed something inside him, something he didn't even know was cold. Her hair from what he could tell was brown. What was with the severe bun? Although in her defense, he had woken her up in the middle of the night.

"Take a picture Kansas it lasts longer." Sweetheart had a mouth to make him proud. His rescuer had changed out of the jeans and white tee shirt with a duck on it. Above the duck it said quack, quack. It was probably the top half of her pajamas. The now showered girl had exchanged the vomit soaked clothes for black cargo pants and an appropriately scripted for the situation tee shirt. 'Life's a bitch.'

"Love the shirt Angel." His eyes were sparkling with merriment. "Ain't it the truth?" Her eyes twinkled back. "Ain't it," was his quick reply. They both cracked up, sharing a comfortable moment. The girl with the brown eyes sat down on the plush bed next to him then instinctively took his pulse. Finding it in order she released his wrist.

He lifted that hand to her cheek moving her face to the light. He swallowed, "I did that?" "You are a fighter Dean, your first instinct was to come up fighting and that's what you did. I would have been more worried if you hadn't." There was no anger in her voice she meant what she said. Still he felt terrible. "That's one hell of a bruise." Feeling bad for him she jived a little. "You throw one hell of a punch." "Guess that runs in the family." Dean said without anger just dejected resignation. "Guess it does." She said quietly.

"Kansas, you do realize we are in a reprieve state. When the withdrawals come back it will be worse." As his Angel said this, he could feel himself go gray. Still she had said we are, not you are. Watching his reaction and wanting him to be reassured "Dean I promise you I will not leave." He looked her in her doe colored eyes, "I know Angel."

The proclaimer of 'life's a bitch' decided the emotions in the room were still too raw to be exposed. Giving her charge a haughty look she popped off the bed and walked bare foot out the door. "I'll be right back," could be heard from the hallway area. A short time later she returned sunflower covered ceramics in hand. "Cocoa." They said in unison. She smiled at him her smile could light up a room. Her smile could light up the dormant recesses of his heart.

What a wonderful woman she who had nursed him back to health, well in the process of anyhow. Her delicate fingers placed the mugs in his large calloused ones. Then she turned and pulled the orange chair up next to the bed. Dean cocked an eyebrow as if to say 'are you sure that is wise?' "When you feel it coming on, I'll move." "Are you a mind reader," he questioned as he handed over her seeping Nestle drink, which she rested on her upturned knees. "Kansas you crack me up, a minder reader."

"Why do you?" These asked over each other. "Ladies first," the Kansas native said complete with hand flourish. "Why thank you sir, you are such a gentleman." Before he could stop himself he replied "not always." Her eyes looked at him tenderly and with no small amount of understanding said, "I imagine you are when it counts." He cleared his throat, "yes." The one word answer spoke volumes.

"Why do you call me Angel?" "Because you have to be to do what you did. To do what you are still doing. Besides sweetheart you didn't offer a name with any of your ten thousand notes." She smiled procuring no more in the way of a reply. 'A smile, all he got was a stinking smile and a forced one at that.' No twinkling in her eyes either, they were stone cold.

"Why do call me Kansas?" Her chocolate windows to the soul became hazy as she answered the inquiry. Sweetheart had learned the fine art of deflection. "Your father told me the story of your birth and well it seemed fitting. Would you rather I stick with Dean?" She asked the question with such consideration he could tell she wanted him to know she respected him. In no way wanted to insult whatever dignity he had left. "No, no. Kansas is fine." Dean nodded at her.

If the chick had options, so should he. "Will I get to learn you name?" He knew before he asked he wasn't going to receive the response he was looking for. That's fine, needling was a one of his special skills. Hopefully he hadn't lost his touch. The Winchester hunter was determined to extract the information. Solemnly she answered, "Dean I wish I could. As with before that is not an action that has been approved by my employer." He studied her intently there was no give in her face. 'Wow, she is one of us.'

"You broke the rules to come to me." The trying not to sound bitter warrior stated with heat in his voice. "If you want to get technical about it, I didn't break the rules, I walked the line. Nothing is more important than the health and welling being of the Winchester's. Whatever they need we give them, you required immediate medical assistance." The battered young man went to say something she stalled him with an upturned hand knowing what he was thinking. "The man specifically stated I was not to give you my name."

Dean continued to assess her. He knew his eyes could be pulverizing when the situation called for it. She sighed at his overheated expression. "Here is the thing Kansas right now we are in a comfortable, or as comfortable as one can be, holding pattern. But you a very proud man Dean. The next time we meet everything will be out in the open." She took a bolstering sip out of the mug before continuing, which her companion let her do with out comment. 'That can't be a good sign.'

"I am afraid that all the kindness you are feeling will be replaced by the cold hard reality of anger. Information will be out in the open, things will be revealed, and it is not something you will take lightly. You will feel betrayed. You have had enough of trusting people and have them turn on you. I don't want to be another person who let you down." His Angel gave him a sad look. She felt his pain as he felt it.

'Oh fuck.' "Angel, I appreciate your sincerity and integrity. You have shone me more in the past hour than my family has in ages. Please, don't know how much pride I have left, for heavens sake you help me pee. Don't know how much more stripped down a man can get." She laughed the kind that actually makes your lips turn and cheeks red, "You only peed on me once." His cheeks turned red for a whole nother reason, "Please tell me you are joking." "Fraid not." She replied with humor and clemency for the poor in her voice.

"Tell me your name." He implored. "Oh my, you just won't let it go will you." When she looked up from the safety of her cup she expected to find his face hard and uncompromising. It was soft, beseeching, but open. Giving it one more try and knowing she was going to cave the Florence Nightingale went on "One day you will be well and out for the truth. You are nothing if not resourceful Kansas, you could use my name to track my employer before its time." She was stalling, he knew he was going to ware her down, he had nothing but time.

"This might surprise you Angel, but I am not mad at my Dad for what he did to me. To you yes, me no. I might be angry at the situation, furious even but I must trust in the fact he had a good reason." The sad warrior finished and looked at her.

"No Dean, it doesn't surprise me. At the risk of getting too chick flick for you." He smiled and nodded for her to continue. She returned the smile. "You are a man of quiet dignity. As much as you might have brawn, your strength comes from your heart and ability to grasp that which isn't obvious."

The normally confident hunter looked down at his drink, not used to the words and displays of emotions swirling in the room. If he had been looking at his Angel he would have been privy to the empathetic understanding in her eyes. "Your father felt he needed to go the rest of this road alone. He knew you wouldn't take no for an answer. Apparently in addition to soft hands, strong heart and mesmerizing eyes you also have a stubborn streak a Kansas mile long." He laughed at her reiteration of his earlier words.

Dean felt his heart pound yes he had stubborn streak but the responsibility to take care of his family had been ingrained in him at such a young age he didn't know how to change. 'You protect your family at all costs.' Part of him understood, part of him didn't and he needed to vent a little of his seething below the surface rage out.

"So he beat holy fuck out of me?" When he didn't put forth a needless apology for his verbiage, she put a calm hand on his hoping it would have the desired effect. "Please don't get upset, your going to be sick enough." "Breathe Dean, Breathe." Dean said to himself. "If it's any consolation when he came to thank me, I gave a what for. Emphasized rather loudly all things I am sure you are thinking. Begged him not to leave it like this, to talk to you and explain it." 'She begged for him? Wow.'

'Alone, he was all alone.' "Angel, please tell me your name." His body was hunched in as he asked, instinctively protecting himself against the letdown. When he stared unyieldingly at her sad hazel eyes to brown, Dean knew he had her. She sighed and her face fell she knew he needed the connection. Code names meant he was nothing. A real name that was tangible, it meant she was real. If she was real he wouldn't be alone.

He watched her inner dialogue with male fascination he was normally not privy to this side of a woman. If he was studying a girl's face it usually had to do with sex. The caretaker could feel his eyes on her, assessing her. Good ahead she thought watch me crack. One more strengthening breath and she went for it.

'What was her name? Was it that bad?' "Its Mary, Mary Carney." Silently he processed this. Mary. Of course, why would it be anything else? "Mary is a beautiful name, for a beautiful person." She laughed. "Thank you Dean." He knew why she was worried. His mom.

He let it go, no reason to rub it in or harp on it. He knew her name. Now his Angel was a person to him, not just a solid apparition to take care of him in his time of need. "So tell me Angel, did my father provide all the information? My favorite foods, my love of hot chocolate?" Dean held up his cup as he asked. "Or preferred brands of toothpaste and shaving cream, not that I will be using the later for awhile." He grimaced at the thought of even touching his face with fingers, never mind a sharp razor. She was grateful he dropped the subject. Trying to make him smile his Angel said, "girls love a little shadow on the chin, its sexy and presents a devil may care attitude."

Batting his eyes suggestively Dean asked, "You think I am sexy?" Batting her eyes back, "Of course your sexy Kansas, you know that. I told you even beat to hell you are handsome. There your ego has been pumped and stroked." His eyes darkened, his voice became a little huskier "Angel really you want to pump and stroke me? Sweetheart, for you, I am ready and willing." She looked at him, eyebrows raised. "I don't let just anyone pump and stroke me."

Uh oh, her smile took on a look he didn't like. Taking a sip of her drink she continued, "Kansas, I hate to break it to you. Really, I do." Sure she did he could see it in her face she really conveyed that. Maybe it was the down right maniacal glint in her eye that gave it away. "In order to get you to take care a business, I kinda had to pump and stroke you."

Dean sighed, "Please…" She talked right over him and with a grin said, "You moaned, at point loudly. So I guess you were happy with the job I had done." The twenty six year old ladies man hid his face in his hands. "Dean? Dean, are you okay?" His Angel asked, all joking gone, he could hear the worry at the forefront in her voice. "I'm cool, just embarrassed, really honestly truly embarrassed. Angel, I am so sorry." He was embarrassed once he moved his hands she could see the red in his cheeks. Bless his poor heart.

"Kansas, I am not complaining. It had to be done, besides you are quite beautiful to look at, bruises and all." Complementing him and she meant it. The girl was too kind. "So are you Angel, so are you." Dean said with utter sincerity. She ignored him.

"Yes, Kansas. Mr. Winchester did provide all the information. He provided a file and came in person. My phone rings steadily with his inquires. Mr. Winchester and my employer are very good friends. It is not the first time we have meet or talked. Actually we talk on a regular basis when he is trying to contact the man." Pausing she took another sip of her now cooled hot chocolate. The hunter recognized deflection when he saw it.

"Your father is very concerned." She looked past him when she provided this information. What wasn't his Angel telling him? "So mother fucker pounds the stuffing out of me, so he can go his road alone. Why the fuck didn't hit this road that was so important to him?" Dean asked not able to contain or really wanting to harness the vehemence and fury in his voice. Then as an after thought, "sorry about the cursing."

Not even acknowledging the apology she looked at him and responded. "Because he loves you and needs to make sure you are okay. Personally I know he regrets his decision, getting him to admit that. Well you Winchester folk aren't big on the show and tell thing. Although you are awfully forth coming with the begging your pardon's. Your father, not so much."

The bed bound hunter set his cup down and looked at his hands. In a quiet voice he said, "That's not really true. My Dad will apologize if he feels he has done something wrong or the situation warrants it. He never hides behind the curtain when it comes to owning up." When he finished speaking his sigh was so heavy his Angel felt it in her toes.

Wanting to give him so reassurance, "Do you remember what he said to you as you lost consciousness?" She placed the ceramic next to his and maneuvered her little hand between his big ones when he didn't fight the gesture she knew she made a good decision. "No, sucks to be you?" Came Dean's sarcastic reply. Good old caustic humor, where would they be without it.

"Dean forgive me for what I have done and am about to do. I love you. You are my rock and my salvation. I have to save you." Dean lowered his head, tears stinging his eyes. His hand tightened around hers. Head still down, swallowing a huge lump that suddenly appeared in his throat. "He told you that?"

"Yes, Dean he did. It might have been a result of my giving him a sound tongue lashing. The great John Winchester actually cried real tears when he told me what he said." The young hunter smiled at the thought of this girl, who even though she was no pixie stick was still a half pint compared to his father yelling at the man. "He also told me it killed him and that apparently you have a bad history with barns."

Deans half laughed half chocked out his reply. "You could say that." He brought his head up, eyes bright with unshed tears he was still trying to filter the words from his father. "It was a week before my ninth birthday." She stopped him. "Dean you don't have to share anything with me. Your personal information and history is just that, personal." He laughed, "Angel I have spilled my guts and bodily fluids all over you, how much more personal can it get?"

She smiled at him. "I just meant that you don't have to tell me anything. Especially something you might regret later." Smiling he continued. "Angel, its okay. Besides this chick shit is starting to make me ache like it's my time of the month." Before she could stop herself his Angel smacked back, "and here I thought the bumps and bruises that littered your body. I do have some have some Midol if you need it. " Dean was enjoying the banter, "Why sweetheart do you think I look bloated?" "Maybe just a little. Water weight, ain't it a bitch?" Dean watched her waggle her eyes in a commiserative manner. His hazel eyes sparkled with merriment as his deadpanned complete with headshake. "It totally is."

"So it was a week before my ninth birthday, Dad was on a simple gbg job." He was about to go on when she questioned "A what?" He forgot there were people out there that didn't have a copy of the Winchester Anachronism Dictionary. "Sorry, gbg meaning ghost be gone." She laughed. "Gbg, I like it. May I use it?" "You hunt?" Dean asked thinking, 'shit there is a lot I don't know about this girl.' "In a round about way, not quite with the ferocity of the Winchester boys." She replied with a little too much twinkle in her cocoa colored eyes.

"The way you say Winchester boys…" Dean looked at her leaving that statement hang as an open question. "You are kinda legendary. If I were the gossiping kind, I could sell the info of seeing the famous Dean Winchester without his clothes on." She was earnestly laughing when she told him this. He shook his head, "You know Angel when I am better we are going to have to talk about this." She looked at him, all joking gone. "I will answer any question I am able to Dean, you have my word."

He nodded, as if to say, 'understood.' Prompting him to continue, "So you were almost nine." "Almost nine, Dad was on a simple gbg. Sammy and I were to wait in the truck on this one. Dad yelled." Pausing he reached over to the nightstand, grabbed the ceramic and took a sip of cocoa, his eyes faraway. "Just like he did the night my mother died. Sammy and I looked at each other. Kid begged me to go in. Not that it took much. Nobody was going to take our Dad. He was all we had. With no regard for the rules, I ran in. Shotgun in hand."

Not missing the emphasis on the no regard for the rules part she commented. "Somehow, I get the feeling the rules might have been something akin to, Dean when I say no it means no." His Angel was a laugh a minute and she said it in a fairly decent impression of the old man too. "How did you guess?" "Your Dad loves and wants to protect you. At almost nine, he figured, my word is the law would work." His Angel was quick too.

"He did figure that. But ole Dean Winchester, he never does things the easy way." Stopping for another small sip of his drink he continued. Dean was happy to see that his charm wasn't so rusty he couldn't captivate an audience of one with a childhood story. All be it a memory that hit a little to close to home at the moment.

The dirty blond kept it blithe "Grover the Champion Thrower tossed a hay pick at me. I shot him with rock salt. Then I ran straight to my Dad as fast as my little legs could take me. He hugged me and then smacked my ass so hard, if he hadn't been holding me with his other arm I would have launched half across the barn."

"Your Dad was probably in shock. His son his first born could have been killed and right in front of him." Angel commented pragmatically. "In hindsight Angel I know. But bad thing always happen in barns." His sounded like the almost nine year old, not the half way to twenty seven.

"One smack, aside from an uncomfortable ride home that doesn't seem so bad." She was trying to help. "Oh no Angel, after the uncomfortable ride home, there was an uncomfortable week. I broke the rules. I knew the consequences. To be honest it hurt him as much as it hurt me if not more. Even at not nine I knew he thought I wouldn't love him after the firm talking too he gave my backside. After he tucked me in, I slowly crawled out of bed, watched him walk outside and toss his cookies."

She put her hand on his. "Your father loves you. All he wants to do is protect you and in his own way he is. I am not saying I approve of his way. But I know beyond a shadow of any doubt that man loves you more than anything on this earth." Ms. Carney should look into peacemaking full time. "I know Angel, I do know. That's what makes this hard." He acknowledged with a heavy sigh, squeezing her hand. "What doesn't kill us…" she started to say. Dean cut her off, "makes us stronger." The girl with the sympathetic smile laughed. "No. Doesn't kill us." He laughed she was his kind a woman.

Then out of nowhere "fuck, Dean." Did she just curse? "I don't know if I could get the job done right now, but I'm game for trying if you are." She stared him down, when did woman learn that look? For that matter where, were there classes? It had always fascinated him. He had a distance memory of his Mom looking at his Dad like that. "Did you see the note on your phone?" "No why?" He tried to sit up this must be important she was all business.

"Your brother called, twice." "Fuck." His Angel deadpanned him, "I don't know if you could get the job done right now, but I'm game for trying if you are." With a sincere chuckle Dean deadpanned her back voice deep. "Careful what you say Angel. You will make sure I will live to full fill that vow."

Opening the side drawer she handed him his phone. Looking him in the eye, "Yell if you need me." She went to leave, thinking to give him privacy. He cocked his head, "No sweetheart, you don't need to leave. At this point anything you don't know won't shock you." Putting a hand on his wrist she questioned him. "Are you positive? Despite my ministrations on your person, you still have a right to at least a small amount of privacy."

She cared about him. He could tell. Not just as a job. "Please, just in case." Nodding her head, "Okay Kansas, okay." She pulled a book out of her bag, Joseph Campbell, Masks of God, Primitive Mythology. "Light reading Ms. Carney?" She rolled her eyes and looked at the phone. Flipping it open he read the note out load in a purposely embellished girl voice. "Mr. Winchester, please be advised your brother phoned twice." She laughed in spite of being poorly mimicked.

The older sibling held his phone for a second. Then took a deep breath flipping the phone open he punched in the moppet's number. "Sammy, you called." Dean knew this was going to be tricky, his brother had a built in Dean's lying to me meter that's why he never tried. Skirting though, that was an art form.

"Dude, where the fuck have you been? You have never ever gone more than thirteen days without calling and that was because I was an idiot. Even then we spoke twice, when you graciously accepted my calls." The intonation on the word graciously was ground out. The injured brother's throat constricted, he could hear the panic in his cool brother extraordinaire's voice. When Sam didn't try masking that particular emotion, Dean knew that the kid had been up fretting.

"I was worried something happened on your last job. Dude, when I didn't hear from you after the tenth day, I freaked. Day fifteen I swallowed my fucking pride and called Dad." Sam's voice trailed off, he knew this wouldn't make his sibling happy. 'Okay' Dean thought, 'past fretting straight to meltdown.' Much to the pre law students surprise his bestest brother in the world didn't yell or rail at him. "What did dear old Dad say?" The recuperating hunter tried to keep his voice even. Ms. Carney looked at him, her eyes wide. He pointed the phone and mouthed, 'Sam called him.' She mouthed back, 'oh shit.' 'Oh shit indeed' he thought.

Dean knew his brother better than anyone. He could actually hear the kid's brain filtering the conversation. His big little brother was trying to figure out what to tell his older bro, without making either feel bad. When Dean made a promise to Sam that he would never lie to him, he made Sam make the same oath. 'Great why did I have to teach the kid to do the dance?' "Sammy?" The six foot one Winchester tried to keep his voice calm. Dean heard the tell tale sigh, 'that bad, what a fucker.'

May 28, 2005Lawrence, Kansas and Redwood City, California

'Fuck, fuck, fuck. Where the hell was Dean?' Sam paced the hallway for an hour, he figured he wore the varnish right of the wood. He had called and texted. Nothing. He knew something was wrong he felt it in the pit of his stomach. When a job went bad his older brother would call him and they would talk it out.

When Sam first exiled himself out to the land of books and babes as Dean called it he didn't want to hear about hunting, he was done. Then the wraith happened and he knew he couldn't eradicate the hunter part of him. After that he told his bestest brother it was cool, tell him about the jobs. They had never kept anything from each other, why let stupid fucking male pride stand in the way.

His brother wasn't dead, he couldn't be. Sam knew he would have felt a searing pain in his heart, but that did not mean that he wasn't close to it. "Fuck." He said out loud not realizing he was standing in front of a picture of the two of them. It was Thanksgiving, Dean had made a turkey, the younger brother chocked down tears at the memory of the rare happy family holiday moment from his childhood.

"You know what you have to do Sam, grow a pair and do it." He shook his head he was talking to himself. Actually he reasoned with himself he was talking to Dean. Dean was just a photographic reproduction not the real thing. The six foot four recently turned twenty two year old took a steadying breath. Then with an inner strength he thought he lost he grabbed his phone and before he could change his mind he dialed his father's cell phone number. Those four rings were the longest rings of his life.

The emotionally spent father in question looked at his caller id and almost had a heart attack. "Answer your phone John. That boy swallowed his pride, pride he learned from you no doubt to call. He is worried sick about his brother, talk to him." Missouri Mosley looked her friend straight in his bloodshot, red rimmed eyes as she admonished him. 'Fuck.' He thought. As she was turning to give him privacy she said, "and no cursing in my house." He was about to think something else, "just talk to the boy."

The head of the Winchester clan stared at the small device in his hand another shrill ring rang out. 'Come on Johnny boy, grow a pair and do it.' "Samuel." John tried to keep his voice steady and temper free. Sam grimaced at the use of his full name. 'It's for Dean, you can do it.' Even though he hadn't said the words out loud the father heard them as if they were. The boys had their mantras, it's for Sammy, it's for Dean. He knew the never thought it's for Dad. 'Oh hell what did he expect? That elusive father of the year trophy slipped farther and farther out of his grasp.

"Sir." Sam fought to keep the fear out of his voice, his father could smell it however many states away. John bit his lip to keep the tears from coming. "Samuel, why did you call?" He knew why he phoned and that he would. Nothing was more important than Dean. Still he wanted to drag it out. If he did then maybe they would all have a chance at…What he wasn't sure, but the all needed that chance.

The father heard his youngest son expel a strangled sigh. "Sir." Sam's voice caught, John bit his lip harder. "Dad." The former Marine let the tears fall he never thought he would hear his floppy haired kid say Dad again. "Dad, please I know something is wrong Dean. What happened? Is he…I know he isn't dead, I would feel it, but what happened. Please."

"Please…" The word rang in John's head. A part of his little one was still in there. Sammy wanted him to tell him it would be okay. "No Samuel he is not dead. Son you know I would have called you. Despite the way things were left I would never have kept that from you. Though as you say you would have felt it." The son stared at his phone, knowing what the concession had cost his father. Sam inherited his stubborn pride streak from his Dad.

"He was injured pretty bad in Missouri." Before he could stop himself the younger of the two asked. "But I thought it was a simple gbg?" John's throat caught at his son's unconscious use of the phrase gbg. "It was a simple gbg, exercise the spirits from the barn and be done with it."

Again his boy made a comment. "A barn, he was hurt in a barn…" The barefoot lanky Winchester let his question run off. The father gripped his phone hard. It had been almost twenty years and yet that night had never left them, any of them. "Yes Sammy he was hurt in a barn." Sam knew his Dad was thinking the same thing he was if he went from calling him Samuel to Sammy.

The Centropolis native currently pacing his friend's hallway waited for the question he knew was coming next. Actually the two, they would be asked one right after the other. 'First.' "How bad?" An audible swallow, the scraped knuckled father waited. 'Second.' "Should I come and see him?" Here it was a turning point John could seize it or let it go. He couldn't beat one to hell and provide the other the absolution he was so desperately seeking. But he wouldn't shame the older brother to the younger. Dean deserved more than that. He would also be damned if he lost them all together.

Before he could answer his younger son's heartfelt statement stopped him. "He must be so upset, a barn. He hates barns, try's like hell to stay out of him. It was be driving him insane." 'Turn the knife Sammy, turn it.' The Dad of two said to himself. To Sam, "bad enough, but you know your brother he is made out of steel." Sam didn't even laugh just uttered in a very resigned voice, "Don't I wish. But his character died on Smallville." It took the forty nine year old a second to realize his son was attempting humor. Just like Dean would have.

"Sammy, he will be okay. His knee was dislocated and his face banged up. Also, he might have taken a blow below the belt." The cool brother extraordinaire said, "Oh Craven, I am so sorry. I should have been there to protect you." 'There is nothing you could have done son.' John knew his boy couldn't hear him but… He let the statement go, he could have taken it and crushed Sam, but that wouldn't help the situation any.

"I don't think he would want you to see him in his current state." Before Sam could make the inevitable comment the pacer continued. "If I thought it would help son I would tell you where he was, but told me he never wanted you to see him when he was hurt like that. Not after you made your decision. 'Promise me Dad, not unless it's the end. He wanted out, don't pull him back in he needs to have the break.' I have to respect his wishes Sammy." The stuck in California Winchester could hear his brother's voice saying those words.

"You promise me, he will be okay." Not knowing weather he was lying or not John said, "You have my word Samuel, you have my word." The next question surprised the tortured father, "are you alright sir?" John could hear the genuine concern in his little one's inquiry. "Yes son, Dean received the brunt of the injuries, I am relatively unharmed." "I am glad." The simple statement almost brought John to his knees. Sam meant it.

"Thank you for talking with me sir, I know we are not on the best of terms, and that given the chance you would probably beat my ass but good, so thank you." The father's hands cramped at the admission he knew what it cost Sam. The shit had inherited his damn pride from John.

"I would never stand between your connection with your brother as angry as I might be at you. Beat your ass but good, no son, it wouldn't make a difference, you made your decision, I made mine. Now before we enter into another argument that will get us nowhere why don't we say good bye." John hoped his child would take the bait. "Yes sir." "Bye Sammy." "Bye Dad." When the men had disconnected their respective phones the both said to the now blank screens, "I love you."

May 31, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

Dean took a deep breath. 'Wow, his father had done right by them both.' Still he had to follow his Dad's lead. Here goes nothing. Escape and evade. If he had to tell his brother he would, he just wasn't ready. He had to process what happened before he shared it. Because Dean knew sure as the sun was going to rise when he did tell him, Sam would do to their father what he had done to his bestest brother. Their close circle might joke about Dean always defending Sam, but it went both ways.

As much as he tried to not acknowledge the fact, Sammy was like their dear old paternal unit. Feral when he needed to be. Dean prided himself on being the reasonable one in the family. He shuddered to think of what Sam would do if totally unleashed. They might have their squabbles and differences, but he knew the shit loved him. This would not be something Sam would forgive their Dad for. Nobody messed with his bestest brother in the world.

At least his father had provided him a lead in, colored the landscape. He made it sound like a spring storm not a tornado. Dear old fucking Dad could have lied instead he just omitted the whole truth. There was a difference. Dean also knew he father colored the landscape for his benefit, didn't want him completely demoralized in front of his brother. If it was just about John he would let Sam think the worst.

"Sammy, I am okay. My knee hurts like a bitch. My face feels like it was run over. Actually my whole body feels like I was dumped out of a moving vehicle at one hundred miles an hour." Euphemistically it had. Interpretation, if Sam got one thing from the statement and him another, who was he to point it out.

"Oh Dean, a barn, I am so sorry, I should have been there." The twenty six year old didn't realize how tight he twisted the covers until he felt a hand on his lightly massaging the fist. "Dude, I am cool. Yeah it sucked that of all places to have my ass kicked it was in a fucking barn. Still you couldn't have done anything. Your place is at school. Someone in this family deserves a real life. You drew the long straw geek boy." Dean heard his brother snort. 'Oh crap.'

"I was out of my fucking mind with worry, let me worry about you, don't take that away from me." Sam's voice had an edge to it. Dean closed his eyes. "Sammy, you are right." The older brother laughed at his younger sibling's reaction to the statement. "I am?" All the wind had been taken out of his sails. Dean just agreed with him. "It's bad isn't it? If you are agreeing with me…"

The bestest brother in the world laughed, his patented laugh. "No Sammy, I promise you, I will live, I am going to be okay." The kid huffed. "Have I ever lied to you?" Even as the words exited his mouth the abhorrer of barns felt his stomach turn. Lying no, omitting yes. 'Fuck it there was a difference. Wasn't there?' "No." Sam's voice was strong. "Where are you? Why aren't you with Dad?" 'If I only knew the answers to those questions…'

'Grow a pair and do it.' Dean thought. "I am in a comfy little mid west cabin. There are certain comforts Dad couldn't provide. Figured if I was holed up in bed for a little awhile it might as well be with a sweet piece of ass." Before Dean could manipulate the truth any further the sweet piece of ass chuckled. The Stanford University student heard her. "Sorry dude didn't know as long as you are okay." The okay was said with a colossal sigh. "Call me when you can." The six foot four concerned younger brother went to hang up.

Dean looked at his Angel and smiled his eyes laughing. While it would have been easier to let him disconnect the call he knew he needed to give more "Sammy, is everything alright? Did Dad say anything else you aren't telling me?" Sam had stopped wearing the wood down to sawdust and sat in the green chair in the living room. "Its cool Dean, he was Dad. Actually he was nicer than Dad, he understood I was sick with fear and showed me mercy."

The bedridden brother let the chair sitting one talk, "He was the bigger man told me you were alive and then let me go without making me feel like a complete piece of shit." 'Wish I were that lucky.' Dean didn't know where he found the strength to say the words "I told you he is not always a bastard." "Who knew you were always right." They both laughed at Sam's intentional exaggerated emphasis on the word always. "Finally after all these years he realizes what I have told him all along. The words bring a smile to my heart." It felt good to joke with Sam even if it were under the worst circumstances.

"I wish I could say I was sorry for calling him, but I am not. Dean I was just so fucking scared. I knew you wouldn't go that long without calling unless something horrible happened." Dean felt a pain of guilt when his kid brother's voice dropped. "My heart pounded out of my chest as I dialed, but I knew even if Dad yelled at me he would tell me…" The lanky man let the statement fade. His voice returned to the safe ground of joking.

"At least you are have recovered enough from your cup check blow to be recuperating with a woman, doing I don't want to know what, making I don't want to know what kind of sounds." Dean looked at his Angel his eyes went from sorrow to humor. She could hear the earnest words from the worried young man and was chuckling into her shirt, so he couldn't hear her. The recuperating was said with a huge sigh.

"Geek boy, what have I told you about sounds. The more you both make, the better it is." "Dude, that is just wrong." The currently in California Winchester informed his brother. "No Sammy, it's just right. My girl here she knows how to pump and stroke a man." The information was relayed with no small amount of devilish humor. He waggled his eyebrows at the lady in question. She made a very unlady like gesture with her hand, something that resembled pumping and stroking. His Angel was anything but boring.

"Fuck Dean." Sam started to get out. Only to have Dean quickly retort, "Was kinda trying to little brother, then I saw the light on my phone flashing and realized you called. You know that I will always put you first. Am sorry dude, I should have called earlier it has just been a rough week. It won't happen again, first call Sammy then pass out from pain and delirium." Dean knew Sam was staring at the phone he figured the shit might get one more jab to his relief though he let it go, "get back to your woman big brother. Call me when you come up for air." They both laughed. "Night, Sam." "Night, Dean."

"Teasing him is so much fun," the bedridden man looked at his Angel his eyes sparkling with humor. "I like how you manipulated the truth. Sounds were made. Stroking and pumping did occur. You have been holed up in bed for a while and thank you for the compliment, sweet piece of ass." Angel stopped and took a sip of her drink. "So you told him about sounds?" She was teasing him. "What did you tell him?" "Go right ahead and laugh sweetheart." Dean shifted himself a little.

"We were in Big Timber, Montana." He started the story in a serious voice. His Angel laughed. What was funny about saying we were in Big Timber, Montana? Dean inclined his head silently asking 'what the hell?' She replied with air quotes and another chuckle. "Big Timber?" Dean looked at her eyes not moving, instead of shuttering at the glare she kept on laughing.

"Oh come on Kansas, you are talking about moaning and groaning and the place in called Big Timber." He hazel eyes continued to bore into her. "Why are you so upset? I already know your tree in big." That was the statement that did it. The abashed warrior groaned. "Seeing moaning and groaning and Big Timber it all goes together." Her eyes were twinkling, her face flushed from laughing. He joined in the mirth and banter. "Angel I think I could love you. My tree... Mr. Wiggly thanks you for your compliment."

As serious as she could, which wasn't all that serious she looked at his crotch, "You are welcome Mr. Wiggly. Big Timber Wiggly, a grand name, for a grand…" Dean groaned again before his caretaker could finish. Then as if to put an exclamation point on the situation, sighed real big and completely over done. Smugly she said, "Me little ole me succeeded in getting two groans and a sigh out of the great Dean Winchester, without even touching him, my job here is done."

Lifting an eyebrow he smiled. 'Uh oh.' She didn't like the look of that smile. 'Good' he thought, 'sweetheart you want to play with Big Timber, he is gonna play back.' "One day Angel. You and me." He gave her a look that left nothing to the imagination. "So you were in Montana?" Evading his statement, she didn't strike him as a chicken, far from it. 'All right sweetheart,' he would let it go for now.

"We were staying at some crap hole hotel. When we were that young, Dad usually found nicer places, but this was an emergency." The twenty six year olds eyes looked past her. "Stay with your brother Dean." The stay with your brother part was done in a passable John Winchester impression and said with a deep sigh. Stay with your brother Dean, was something he had heard millions of times.

"Sam was six, well almost seven and I was eleven." He shifted trying to find a comfortable spot. "You were the knowledgeable older brother?" She asked taking his vitals while she did. "Damn skippy." The knowledgeable older brother replied the Winchester grin appearing.

April 21, 1989/June 1, 2005Big Timber, Montana/Lone Star, Kansas

"Sammy and I were discussing Dad's recent injury, actually I was reassuring him that he was going to live. He remembered the quiver in Sam's chin when he asked. "Dean, is Dad's arm going to fall off?" His Angel questioned him about the branch with a turn of her head. "Dad had been helping Pastor Jim, nothing supernaturally related." He closed his eyes, his smile sad.

"It was nice no things that go bump in the night for a whole week. The old man had been helping him repair a rafter in the ceiling of the church basement. A part of it came lose and went threw Dad's arm." Dean looked at her and motioned to himself. "Injuries being nothing new to the Winchester boys, Mr. Tough Guy continued working, laughing it off. He let it go a little too long. It turned green and Pastor Jim had to cauterize it."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck then grimaced it brought back another memory, sitting outside that nice house in Ardmore, South Dakota listening to Sam's phone calls and the specifically chosen songs. He was curious what the song track to 'this situation' as she called it would be? Closing his eyes at the flash of brothers then, then and now he took a calming second and continued. His Angel silently wondered what he had just been thinking about. It wasn't Big Timer that's for sure.

"Little Sammy had never really watched Dad being patched up. He always made sure Sam was in another room, didn't want him traumatized before he needed to be. This time though, the kid watched the whole process." Dean's eyes were back at the event. The girl listening questioned John telepathically why it was okay for Dean to watch and help with the process and not Sam. She answered herself, not waiting for the response that wouldn't come. Because he needed someone and his older son's capacity to understand, to filter life's challenges were greater than any mere mortal.

"Dean is he going to die?" A not seven yet Sam asked his older brother. The listener knew better than to try and answer, the little one in front of him usually asked questions in groups. "It looks like raw hamburger meat. What are we going to do?" The pipsqueak stared at him eyes full of a gambit of emotions. "Are you tall enough to take care of us?" Dean sighed even at his age he knew he could take care of them. Hell he did it now anyhow only thing that would change is he would have to figure out how to earn money.

Hoping to ease the pain that had taken up residence on his all ready ravaged face his Angel attempted humor. "Tall enough? When did you have your growth spurt?" Her lips were curved in a kind smile. Dean was wise to her tactics. "Ms. Carney, it is not my fault, Sam is the goliath of the family." He paused for a second, "well maybe it is, I don't know...Sam was always a small kid, I made sure he got an extra helping of everything."

His Angel's smile was sad now. "You are good man Kansas, you family is lucky to have you." Dean looked away knowing she was right and not wanting to face the emotional side of all that had happened yet. One word to Sam on the phone and he would have been on the next plane. For the next half hour his mind went between present day and the past.

"Anyhow we were at the dive in the middle of tall trees. Dad actually would have left us with Jim, but he had a conference in Wisconsin. So here I was in the middle of nowheresville explaining injuries and severities to Sam. In the middle of my you got stages of injuries speech the people next store went at it. Not just a roll in the hay, but hard core fucking. Poor Sam, he was scared." His Angel smiled inside at least they were past the whole sorry about the cursing thing. Breaking Dean took a sip from the water glass. He could feel his body gearing up for another purge.

"Dean what is happening?" The still six year old asked his voice taking on the cadence of someone unsure of their surroundings. "Is that lady okay? Do you need to save her?" He looked his brother in the eye. Dean swallowed at the pure trust in his little brother's face. To him his bestest brother could do anything.

They both laughed at the rescuing question. The caregiver could tell Dean was pacing himself, sip of water, deep breaths. "Sammy, remember how I told you girls they don't always…" Stopping the man of a thousand bruises looked at his Florence Nightingale.

"Before I continue, please understand, almost but not yet seven and eleven. Not that in my experience it isn't true today, just please don't take it personally." His Angel nodded in the affirmative; he was trying to be respectful. "Girls well they don't always say and do and mean all the same things. Meaning she is screaming because she is happy not scared, that is why she is making those ah, grunting sounds."

Current day Dean was taking more deep breaths. His Angel moved the orange chair and sat next to him on the bed. "Ms. Carney, I do believe another spell is coming. My stomach feels like it is going to rip apart." She rubbed his tummy. The last time some did that he was five he went with his Dad to his mom's grave and couldn't stop crying. He put a gentle hand on hers, "Mary, thank you for bringing me comfort." She cocked her head at the use of her given name. "There are times we all need comfort, Dean."

"So she was screaming because she was happy." The lady currently trying to sooth an upset stomach prompted him to continue. She was trying to keep his mind off the impending hoark fest. "She was screaming cause he was banging her brains out. But I couldn't exactly say that to Sam. Not that at that age I understood it either."

He actually looked sheepish when he said that. "I just knew what they were doing, the mechanics, not really the why or how." Looking beyond chagrined now he continued. "Contrary to popular belief, the great Dean Winchester wasn't born knowing how to pleasure the fairer sex."

June 1, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

Stopping her ministrations for a second the auburn haired lady exclaimed. "Oh no, the myth is shattered. What am I to do? Dean Winchester was not born omnipotent about woman. It's a crying damn shame." In an entirely different manner than he had moments earlier Dean put one of his big hands over the one she was using to sooth his stomach. "Doesn't mean I don't know how to now." Her body went from being semi relaxed to guarded. She moved her hand from underneath his. Then gently getting off the bed she said, "I'll be right back." Dean watched her go. He hit a nerve, didn't mean to. But he did and a big one, she actually looked spooked.

When she came back in she had towels. Bending down his Angel lined the floor with them. Then she resumed her place on the corpulent coffin and continued her circular motions on his battered tummy. "Angel, I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you." She smiled at him. "Kansas, its alright you were just being you. You are a consummate flirt I'll get used to it, we are cool." He fucked up, he just knew it.

"So, you explained the birds and the bees to your brother?" She gave him a lead in to keep talking. Not wanting to disappoint her, he continued on "That I did, never stopped. Kids a little slow in that department. Not my fault I got all the talent." This was said with such seasoned bravado the lady listening couldn't stifle the laugh that escaped her. The story teller put his hands up in a what am I supposed to do about it gesture. "At the risk of embarrassing both Sammy and I, the day he had his first 'male' reaction to a girl was hilarious..."

Dean reached for the water, he took a small sip. Resting his head back he went on. "Every major event in Sam's life till he went to college I had to explain to him. Even then he still calls, Dean what's this mean? Oh he will bury it in a conversation, but I raised him, I know when he is looking for an answer on something." The tummy rubber smiled, she could tell he took pride in being a good older brother. Nothing was more important to him than the dark haired twenty two year old. She had no doubt that he would stand in front of a bullet for the kid, be it a verbal or real one.

The tremors were starting. His body was shaking, worse than the old Chevy truck on a back road. Dean could feel the bile rising. His Angel helped him move. She picked up the bowl, placed it softly on his scraped knees. "Thanks." Dean said as he clasped his hands on the bowl, and proceeded to fill it. Angel went from rubbing his stomach to his lower back, ever careful not to come in contact with his assaulted and still swollen kidney.

June 2, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

Many hours, buckets and towels later the latest round of Dean versus wanting to die was complete. The embattled man was sleeping a deep sleep. Finally Mary thought. Both his body and mind needed the break. Truth be told, so did she. For the better part of the last week, she had maybe ten hours sleep, and that was here and there. With Dean sleeping as soundly as he was, she could make an attempt to follow suit. The nurse maid pulled up the chair close to the bed just in case. Then she closed her eyes and willed herself into the land of slumber.

Several rest filled hours later that is how Dean awoke to find her totally zonked. Her knees were curled up, head resting upon them. He smiled. The two of them must have passed out. Her hair was down. It was long, almost to her waist and beautiful. Though it wasn't brown as he first thought it was more a smattering of reds. She must have felt him watching her, because she looked up. The sweet vestiges of sleep were still evident on her face. "It's okay Angel. I just woke up myself." Dean didn't want to ruin the moment, it felt almost normal.

Smiling at him she stretched. Watching her the battle scared hunter felt slightly envious, would that he could move like that. "Good for us, we needed the rest. Sleep is the body's way of healing itself." He mock grimaced then replied in true cocky Dean Winchester fashion, "Sweetheart I got gypped then, cause I am still all the colors of the rainbow."

She looked at him indulgently. "Yes maybe a little. But the deep lines in your face are residing. That's an excellent sign." Dean gingerly and with great care touched his face. "The swelling feels as if it is coming down." Mary brought her hand up and with a gentle hand traced the path his had just taken. "I agree your face is looking more and more handsome with each passing second."

Before he could stop himself he said, "Thank for such a kind compliment Madame." She raised her eyes at his sentiment then she frowned. His Angel frowning could not be a good thing. "Would you mind if I checked the stitches?" Dean swallowed, gulped rather and said in a not so confident voice. "Anything for you Angel, anything for you."

She erupted into laughter. He turned his head in a what the hell manner at her guffawing. Here he was trying to be serious and allow her to check his damned stitches as much as the damn thought scared him and she was chuckling. 'Women.' Instead of saying what he was thinking he went with "Angel?"

"Kansas, I am not taking you out back and beating you. There has been enough of that. I just want to check your stitches. If you gulped any louder Sam might here you in California. He half laughed. "Okay, maybe I am a little pathetic." She didn't ever want to hear those words come out of his mouth. "Not pathetic, just wary." She gave him a pointed look. He sent one back. "Have I hurt you yet?" His Angel questioned him sincerity in her voice. "No Mary you haven't." Dean answered with equal frankness.

With as close to an affirmative as she was going to get, the healing wounds were examined and then cleaned. Dean tried not to flinch as his own personal nurse washed the area around the thread. The battle was touch and go there, but determined male strength won out in the end. "You can release the breath you have been holding Kansas." Or did it?

With a glint in her brown eyes, one Dean didn't quite know what to make of his Angel asked "How do you feel about washing off? Think you might be up to it?" His face fell a little, "Is there your round about way of inferring I stink, Angel?" She watched his reaction he was ashamed, oh my poor Kansas she thought. One day you will heal. Not soon she imagined, but one day.

Until then she would do what she could "Why Kansas, why would I infer that? I just thought that after turning your insides out and finally succumbing to a good night's rest you might want to freshen up." The glint was still there but strangely he didn't feel as bad about it now. She cared and more importantly she hadn't left him.

"Angel, has anyone every told you diplomacy is one of your best assets?" Dean asked with a little jocosity in his voice, it was one of her traits, in the short time the spent together he had scene the savior faire in action. "Yes, why do you think my employer hired me?" Her expression changed from ambassadorial to one he could only describe as feminine wiles. "Although, if you want to know a little secret." She lowered her voice. "There are times when political correctness goes out the window and the bitchy female comes to the surface."

Dean shook his head no, "I don't believe it." Her face changed from jesting to harden stone, kinda like a gargoyle. Not that he would let her in on his observation woman can be touchy about those things. He found the change fascinating, he absentmindedly wondered how many expressions his Angel had and if he would get to see them all.

The lady in question stared him straight in his hazel eyes so he would know she wasn't kidding around, "After you and your father discuss what he has done to you. You ask him what I did to him. I am damn lucky he didn't say anything to the man else I would have been caned. Though at that point it would have been worth it, one doesn't, and I am sure you can agree with me on this, get to see the almighty John Winchester speechless." The son of the not so almighty man in question chuckled and nodded his head yes.

"Why would you loose your job?" Dean asked, thinking whatever she said or did to his fuck head father, he probably had it coming. "Insulting or harming a Winchester would be tantamount to treason. Treason is not an offense taken lightly." Dean wondered and not for the first time who her employer was and how this person was connected to their family. He kept quiet though. He knew as sure as the moon would go down that night, Angel wouldn't tell him jack about her employer before it was time.

Instead he answered her earlier questions with a slightly cocky grin and matching intonation, "Washing sounds heavenly to me. Are you going to sponge me down or are we using the shower?" With a teasing grin his Angel warned him "careful Kansas, I could use a bristle brush to scrub you down." Paling at the thought he tried to sound contrite. "I'll be good, I promise." She gave him a look that said 'I doubt that.' "How about a partial shower? If it becomes too much, we will stop and revert back to a sponge."

"I am at your mercy Angel." She laughed and chose the opportunity to bolster his confidence. He needed it. "I bet if you had to, I mean really had to, you could kill something right now. You might collapse right after doing the deed. But you have more strength than you realize."

He cocked his head and went to ask something. She stalled him knowing what he was going to ask, 'yikes the guy could be one tracked.' "Dean, I told you I would not leave. I keep my promises, as best I can. You have my word I will not leave you till you tell me to go." He would hard pressed to admit that time would ever come.

"Thank you, Ms. Carney. I trust your word." He sighed and talked on, better to get it out in the open, not like she didn't know already, he just felt as if he needed to say it. "Sorry, guess I am a little reticent of solemn vows and oaths to protect, never leave and such." The embattled hunter knew his face was turning a nice shade of red. 'Fuck it' he thought. The girl had been witness to him stripped down, physically and emotionally. Why try to hide what he is feeling at least at the moment. Soon he would tough up and get back to being Mr. Anti Chick Flick Shit.

Smiling at him he watched as she stretched and then ran her fingers through her hair and wrapped it up in a knot. "Amazing, how chicks do that." She gave a him a do what look. "Tie your hair in knots." She had to stop and think. "It comes naturally. When you want it out of the way and you have nothing to secure it with, you just twist it around your finger and a few tucks and pulls later. One messy knot." If the messy knot owner had to describe his expression in one word it would be awe. The things that fascinated men.

"All righty then Kansas, what do you say we introduce you to this invention known as the waterfall?" His Angel's voice was full of mischief as she helped dump him out of bed. The half shower was a non stop laugh riot. Ms. Carney let him clean as much of his body as he could handle. Then she helped him wash his hair. 'Oh what a feeling' Dean thought. There is something strangely erotically satisfying about a woman running her fingers through your hair and having your head scratched.

After the water show was complete, the kind woman helped his change into real clothes. Okay, warm up pants, a Black Sabbath tee shirt and black Uggs. Still the clothes made him feel more human than boxers and an old black tee that had scene better days. Dean felt almost normal.

Once he was changed and comfy his own personal body washer went to take a shower herself. Dean being the gentleman that he is offered to repay the helping favor. "Angel, I would be happy to extend an offer of assistance. Soap your back or front or…" She gave him the one finger salute. "That too sweetheart." She closed the door on him. "I'll take that as a no." Dean said to the white washed barrier.

When Angel emerged from the bathroom, she found Dean quietly reading a small book. She cleared her throat, wanting to give him warning, just in case it was personal. Judging by the way he handled it, it was both personal and special. Dean looked up at her, beaming. What ever the treatise was he put it in the rosewood box and closed the lid. What were the tomes she wondered? Mr. Winchester only told her the books would be of great comfort to his son. Hum.

Standing at the foot of the bed with one hand casually on his sheep skinned foot the attaché had an idea. She squeezed the black boot, not to hard, more of what do you think gesture. "Kansas, now that we are squeaky clean and happy with our sartorial choices, what do you say we dine al fresco?" When the state native looked up at her he noticed that she had her eyebrows raised. Issuing a challenge he saw. Dean didn't let her down, he offered one of his trademark smirks and replied, "Sweetheart that sounds just ducky, show me the way."

They sat in a companionable silence enjoying a meal of oatmeal with pear slices. The twenty six year old felt slightly out of place and yet totally at home with experience. His brain was turning a mile a minute. He supposed it was a result of having purged all the drugs in his system. When the last drop in his sunflower adorned bowl had been consumed, Dean turned to his Angel and gently patted his stomach. The same one she had rubbed last night. Pausing he looked away for the second. 'Dude get a fucking grip.' "Angel that was the best oatmeal I have ever had and the pears were as sweet as your smile." She groaned at his coquetting.

He let it go, one day she would take his compliments. Odd but when he gave them to her he found he meant it. "Thank you for suggesting alfresco, it is a beautiful day out." Chuckling she smiled at the drawn out way he said beautiful day. "I figured your stomach should be able to tolerate oatmeal and the peaches, well your Dad said you loved them. As for being outside, we needed some fresh air. That room is small and confining. Wide open spaces, nothing like em. " 'Nothing like em indeed.' He echoed in his mind.

"Angel I've been thinking." Dean started to say. "Did it hurt?" She was joshing him. They really were like two peas in a pod. "You are a saucy one Angel, saucy indeed." Laughing she retorted, "You are feeling better and I didn't want your smart-ass repartee to get rusty." Give her one of his better smirks, "Aside from being cheeky you are a definite one of a kind."

Smirking right back at him she continued sassing, "Brain power in action, the mouse turning the wheel." He good naturedly tossed his napkin at her. She picked it up and placed it on the table they shared. Dean stretched his bruised body as much as he dared and sank back into the wicker chair. The chair was a brown wicker rocker with pillows so plush, he could have been sitting on a cloud.

Giving her a look he hoped conveyed the message, please let me speak Dean rattled his companion with questions. "Angel I have been thinking. How long can I stay here? And for that matter where is here? How long do you think it will take me to heal? What about rehab? When do you have to leave? When it does happen can we keep in touch? Do you know how to get in touch with my Dad?" He stopped and shifted, his back was a little stiff. Then as an after thought he tossed out, "How old are you?"

By the time he got half way through his list the girl deduced the real issue, the one he was most worried about. When she was gone he would have no one. "Kansas, slow down. One question at a time." Feeling a little chagrined he looked down at his hands. It was a gesture he used when he was feeling out of place or being put in his place.

Giving what she hoped was a reassuring look the brown eyed nursemaid knocked out answers to his queries. "You can stay here as long as you need too. In fact if you so desire, you can even make this lovely wood side cabin your permanent home base. Here is Lone Star, Kansas." Before she could respond to the rest of his questions, Dean punched his fist into the pillow. "Bastard. My fucking father has a fucking twisted sense of fucking humor."

Giving him a 'what the hell' look, his Angel went back to answering. Hopefully in time he will explain. "How long do I think you will take to heal? Your bruises a month or so. Your ribs and knee about the same. Well the knee, maybe a little longer. Depends you are a scrapper; you aren't going to let anything keep you down for long. Reaching over she place a hand on his, "Your heart, Dean, I don't know. A long damn time, I would imagine."

She moved her hand, when she placed in back in her lap he noticed for the first time, fuck how had he missed it last night, the tattoo on the inside of her wrist. Hum, nothing but mysteries this chick. "As for rehabbing, we can start getting your sexy body back in fighting shape as soon as you are ready." Dean looked up from his hands at the use of the word we. 'Sexy body, he didn't feel very attractive at the moment.'

"As for me leaving, Dean I gave you my word that I would not leave until you told me to go. That being said am sorta walking the line being here right now. The man hasn't given me the okay, not that he won't." Dean watched as she grimaced and rubbed her hands over her face. 'Shit, both wrists have ink. Dude, you are losing your touch.'

"It might take some persuading and reminding him of the 'Nothing is more important than the health and welling being of the Winchester's. Whatever they need we give them rule he had embossed in my psyche. The Winchester in need chuckled at her explanation. "Not as straight laced as I first thought Angel. Skating the rules? Living on the edge who knew? You just don't seem like the type." The gleam in her eyes made him laugh harder.

"There is a lot you don't know about me Kansas." Sobering his face he looked her in her stilling shimmering brown pools and said, "I intend to remedy that." Reining in her levity his Angel replied with a matching no nonsense tone, "And so you will."

Mary stopped at this point, stood and stretched. Dean watched her arch her back in yoga move. His eyes betrayed what he was thinking. She smiled at him. Sitting back down the now clad in green cargo pants and shamrock adorned tee shirt resumed her responses. The dirty blond watched his Angel as she looked of in the distance. Dean had used this stratagem himself. When you don't want the other person to know what you are thinking, look at the horizon.

"As for keeping in touch, if you are sure that is something you want… I told you, at one point you will see me again and everything will be out in the open. By the time that happens, I can't imagine that you will be happy about it. That said if you still want me on your speed dial. Yes, we can keep in touch. Use the emergency cell phone." Hoping to lighten her up he quipped, "Wow, my own Bat Phone. Totally cool, sweetheart, always wanted my own Bat Phone." She smiled, his childhood was so fucked up and yet the little boy was still in there somewhere.

The stiff necked girl brought her hands up to the back of her head and tried to rub the knots out. Dean studied her wrists hoping to ascertain what the markings were. "Talking to the great Jonathon Dean Winchester, ugg." The man's son couldn't help the laugh that escaped his chapped lips. "As I mentioned before he is concerned about your progress and checks in relentlessly with me."

Letting out a pent up sigh, Dean observed, "dear old Dad can be unyielding in his pursuit of something. Mary laughed, "Really, unyielding you say." They both laughed. Getting back to the topic, the lady with the messy knot came up with a alternative solution to the getting in touch with Dad question.

Yes she could call him and he would answer, but handing the phone over, John had to come to the decision on his own. Okay maybe with help, but still he had to call Dean not the other way around. John had to use the pair she heard were cast iron and make the call. Still she felt for her battered companion, "I might be able to set it up so you can hear him." The young man nodded, "I will take what I can get it."

Before she answered the next question she picked up the bowls and headed to the door. Looking back with a glint he was beginning to recognize she said, "A gentleman never asks a lady her age." As the door closed he heard her say, "I am your senior though."

About five minutes later she emerged from the wood structure with two steaming cups of spiced hot chocolate. Mary handed him a blue sunflower covered cup. 'Blue, maybe there were other colors to.' He was being observed for a reaction, not want to disappoint her Dean waggled his eyebrows and said "Hazelnut Cocoa. Spicing up my life Angel?"

His Angel laughed and replied. "In addition to the fresh air, I thought you might appreciate a little something special. You have been through hell Dean and well..." The girl let the statement fall. He held his cup to her and gave her one of his rare smiles, the kind that held nothing back and could light up a room. Light up the hidden alcoves of her locked behind a reinforced door, soul. Then he ruined the moment.

"Older than me? You carry your age well. Is this your cane? Do you need it back when I am done?" When he was finished with his ribbing he looked at her, trademark smirk as big as day well as big as his stitches would let it be. "Oh hunter boy thinks he is so funny. Laugh, You Nearly Died." She wasn't finished when he countered, "Angel, I love your use of classic rock references."

She smirked back. "Maybe they weren't classic when I listened to them." "Ouch, sweetheart. Didn't mean to infer that your gray hair was starting to show." Verbal sparing with his Angel was fun, she gave as good as she got. Sighing she shook her head. "I bet there were times when over your Dad's knee was something you deserved."

His lowered his head for a second. "Yeah, my mouth has gotten me in trouble on more than one occasion." "Dean, in regards to your father this is not one of those times. In regards to me, yeah Kansas, if I thought you could take it, you would be wearing my handprint right now." He looked at her, respect in his eyes and something else she couldn't name. "Not willing to kick a donkey while he is down?"

"No Kansas, not with all I have done to help you heal." Dean nodded his head, "Thank you Angel." She lowered her head as if to say you are welcome. "You were born in January 1979. I was born in November 1977. So no, smart ass I don't need the cane. Although I reserve the right to beat you over the head with it." She gave him a look that tried to enforce that. The both knew she wouldn't.

"So Angel where do we go from here?" Dean asked the important question in such a small voice she was worried. Delicately she phrased her answer. "I will speak with my employer today and get cleared to stay with you for the duration. After that, a quick sprint into town." His gulp was audible, 'how did he do that? Was it a guy thing?' She winked at him. 'Did she just wink at me,' Dean thought.

"Am going to scare us up stock for the larders. Would offer you the chance of a mini break out, but I kinda need to get some feminine things. Something I am sure you have never shopped for and might be embarrassed to get. Also, need to head to where I am staying and grab my crap." She knew he couldn't make the trip in his condition and was letting him out of it with his male dignity intact. "Girlie stuff. Ugh, no can't say that I have. One thing about living with two other men, no chick shit. Unless you count that horrible aftershave that Sam favors." He covered keeping up with her.

"Woman prefer natural scent of a man over that froufrou over the counter crap. Poor Sam he must not be strong enough to exude anything." Dean flat out laughed at that. If Sam ever heard her. Ha. And double ha for good measure. "Could not agree with you more sweetheart. My kid brother is the coolest brother extraordinaire on the planet, just not as manly as me." She patted her hand on his arm. He meant that about Sam. He was the coolest brother extraordinaire. The Winchester Boys, them against the world.

Before she could say anything else her phone rang. As soon as she checked the caller id, the twenty seven year old sighed a bone weary sigh. Dean grabbed her free hand and gave a reassuring squeeze, mouthing the words it's alright. She smiled at him much like she had last night as Free had been crooning. Then the walls in her face came up and with calming breath she answered.

"Sir." "Bella, where the hell are you?" That was all Dean heard before she walked out of earshot. 'Bella?' Hum she wouldn't intentionally lie to him he knew that, especially with a thing like her name. Mary. He studied her side of the conversation. She was tense her shoulders were set her body resembled that of the local Populus Deltoides behind her.

Sammy was wrong he did pay attention in his classes. Although most of his nature related knowledge came from his grandmother. If you are going to live on the land respect it, it will respect you. Dean kept his eyes moving between his Angel and the Cottonwood behind her, Cottonwood, the State Tree for good ole Kansas. They were still in fucking Kansas. Fuck John Winchester.

His Angel looked up to the heavens and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she spoke sharply into the phone, and threw her free hand up. Then she said nothing for what seemed like eternity, in reality he guesstimated forty or so seconds. Then a terse response, Dean didn't need to hear it to know. Slowly she closed the phone.

His defender put the really impressive looking contraption back in her pocket. What the hell kind of phone was that? Then the five foot eight girl she took a composing breath and walked toward him. "That looked fun." The normally funny man commented hoping to break the tension still so obvious in her taut frame. Mission accomplished, a small laugh followed by a sigh. But still there was a chuckle and that was key.

The hunter raised his eyebrows thinking the action would compel her to continue, no such luck. She closed her eyes and rubbed the back of her neck. 'Be a man about it Dean.' He said this about ten times in his head before he could actually form the words to ask. "What did he say? And why did he call you Bella?" The first question didn't garner any response, the second though. Wow, her eyes could blaze like a forest fire. "You listened?" Mary voice was strained, her eyes still raging at him. Deciding that complete truth was the best course. "I heard an older male voice say Bella, where the hell are you?" Dean brought his eyes to hers, "He did kinda yell it."

Sighing again, she took a sip of her cooled Hazelnut beverage. "Sorry Kansas am just a little on edge." He chuckled. "No, really. I had not noticed. On edge you say?" Thinking she would snap at him for being a smart mouth he was surprised when she didn't.

"Thank you for trying to defuse my emotions. My employer calls me Bella because well it's a long story. Most everyone related to the…" she stopped, "my job calls me Bella." Dean swallowed the hurt she had just censored him. One day his Angel would know she could trust him. Until then he had to roll with it. "My friends Sarah, Kate and Landon are the only ones who don't."

"Will I get to hear the story?" Dean asked hoping he would he liked and respected Ms. Carney. He knew that argument was over him and she fought for him, never backed down. "One day if you are good and eat all your peas." She was joking with him, his father must have told her he hated peas. "What did he say? Can you stay?" He hated sounding weak, but he still wasn't ready to be alone. When you are alone the demons come. The ones in your mind, the kind you can't stop.

"Yes, Kansas. You are stuck with me now. I am with you till you tell me to go. The man wasn't happy about it, but I reminded him of the whole, Nothing is more important than the health and well being of the Winchesters, what ever they need we give them spiel. Dean said he needed me to help him get back on his feet and we can't have one of the all mighty Winchester hunters out of commission to long."

The hunter in question stood up, slowly but he wanted be on a level playing field for his reply. He took her hand, "Mary thank you for fighting for me. I find myself humbled." To his astonishment his Angel's eyes grew watery and before he could say anything, one big fat tear rolled down her still bruised cheek. He brought a thumb up to her face and traced under her eye. Then touched a finger to her nose.

Uncomfortable with the emotional displays the caregiver wrinkled her recently taped nose. Still she found herself unwilling to say anything smart to him. "You are welcome Dean." Then out of nowhere she reached her hand up and touched her finger to his nose. He closed his eyes the sentiment was overwhelming.

When he opened them he got a glimpse of the tattoo on her wrist before she moved her hand. It was a very gothic looking rose. Dean shifted his maligned body, hoping to find a comfortable position. "Angel can I ask you a personal question." His Angel nodded. "How much ink do you have?" Whatever she had been expecting that wasn't it. It took her a moment to register what he was asking. When her head turned to side, the injured Winchester softly touched the inside of her wrist.

"Tattoos you want to know how many tattoos I have?" He nodded. "Four." Dean let out a whistle. She smiled. "One on each wrist, one on my neck and one at the base of my back." "Sweetheart you got rocks that must have hurt like a bitch." The girl who apparently had rocks laughed at his half statement half query. His Angel held her wrists up and open to him so they could be inspected.

The gothic rose was very detailed he could see the shadow lines in the leaves, the shadings of red. On her other wrist she had a dancing skeleton. He cocked an eyebrow. "One day Kansas, one day I will explain." Dean lowered the eyebrow. "Fair enough."

Then she slowly turned around. Something inside him turned with her. The feeling was foreign to him. Here was a girl who obviously lived in their world and she just paid him the ultimate of compliments. You never turn your back, not unless you trust the other person with your life.

She rested her hands on the railing in front of her and lowered her head. Dean brought a shaking hand to her neck, tracing the design with his calloused fingers. "A sigil?" No censure in his voice, just genuine curiosity. With her head still bent she replied, "Yes. Protection is something you can never have enough of."

He rested his hand on her neck. Dean could feel her body warming to his touch. Sometimes your body reacts without your minds permission. He smiled then ran his hand slowly and methodically down her back. He knew she thought he intended to inspect the last remaining tattoo. "One day Angel, but not today." She released a breath she didn't know she had been holding. The normally brash warrior knew he made a prudent choice.

His Angel lifted her head. Dean shuffled a step closer and to his amazement she leaned back into him. He rested his chin on her head. They stayed like that for quite a while, enjoying the serenity around them. When the separated they both sighed. Content sighs. The twenty seven year old turned to face her charge, phrasing her question delicately she said, "Kansas before I head out, can I play nurse? Check your ribs and your back?" Your back was said in a quiet voice. He knew it was out of respect for the degrading insult his father had paid him.

"I can deal with the fact he pummeled me to the other side of hell. But to insult me by whipping me with his belt... Do you know I can count the number of times he has taken the strap to me? It's a very small number." My Dad abhors corporal punishment it makes him sick. Probably cause his old man used to beat the crap of him for sport."

The currently with a welted back Winchester continued. "Not that if we earned it he wouldn't bend us over a knee. When he did it was long and hard. Dad told us if we broke a rule that warranted a punishment of that nature than a memorable one it would be. That way we wouldn't disrespect his orders again."

Dean absently brought a hand to his check. "As I said earlier, my mouth has gotten me in trouble on more than one occasion. When river flowed with words it wasn't supposed to a quick backhand and a stern talking too, that was it. Even then I can count the times and they were miniscule. He had other ways of making us fall in line, equally as torturous, but they didn't leave any scars you could see…"

Not for the first time since the whole barn incident did Mary think fuck John Winchester. 'Sometimes the scars you don't see cause more damage.' With guys though, it was all about the façade they presented to the outside world. Gotta be Mr. Tough Guy...

Trying to make him feel better and understand she ventured an explanation, "he wanted to emasculate you and make you hate him. It was more a punishment for him, than it was you." 'Girl was way too smart.' "I know Angel and I don't hate him. Miss him, but hate him no…" Dean's voice faded out as he focus on the cottonwood trees in front of him.

When he brought his gaze back to her chick flick time was over. She could tell by the smirk dawning on his face. "You want me to strip here?" "May the Angels in heaven show mercy on your soul. Your defense tactics can be exhausting." The man laughed in spite of the fact what she said was true. "That's not all that is exhausting about me." He waggled his eyes.

Whatever her reply was it was way to under her breath for Dean to catch. That was probably a good thing. Ever so gently she eased his shirt up. He could feel her hands shaking. The Winchester with the welted back felt strangely comforted with the fact the shaking was in anger at his father, not because she felt sorry for him. His Angel had showed him no pity, only compassion.

"You'll live." Came her caustic reply. "A couple of hours that is all I will be gone. You call the second you don't feel right. Promise me." She was all business. "You have my word Angel." Smiling at him, "That is good enough for me." She trusted him, she turned her back to him and she was accepting his word as his bond.

Her voice dropped into an exaggeratedly exasperated tone, "Please be careful with whatever you do while you are alone and left to your own devices." Then out of nowhere she reached up and kissed his battered cheek. "Yes, Mamm." He could feel himself blushing. A kiss, no not a romantic one, just one meant to bring him peace. It did.

When his Angel turned and entered the house Dean sat back down in the chair. He stayed outside for the better part of an hour enjoying the cool breeze, sipping his hazelnut chocolate drink. His Angel was a special person. Along with helping him complete extremely personal tasks, she was helping him to maintain and rebuild his dignity. A slow road and process. But one he knew she would make with him. Dean drained the contents of his mug then slowly lifted himself out of the wicker rocker. He had things to do before she returned.

A little less than two hours later Dean heard a vehicle pull up out front. Years of caution made him check the window. Sweetheart drove a beat up Chevy truck similar to his dad's, hers was maybe a little older but no less imposing. The plates were hidden by an enormous amount of mud. As she pulled in she gave him a look that said, 'what are you doing up?'

He watched her shift the truck into first gear, shut off the ignition and set the brake. She opened her door and grabbed bags off the front seat. Then she walked around the back of the Chevy and headed towards the cabin. Dean opened the door for her, attempting to be chivalrous. His Dad had tried to instill some gentlemanly traits in his boys.

"Thanks Kansas." She walked into the kitchen and put the bags on a chair. "Something looks different." Dean smiled to himself. His Dad didn't call him a domestic for nothing. It was the one thing his father and Sam agreed on. Dean was a homemaker. They didn't know he knew that's what they said. If they bonded over him so be it. Let them have something.

"The table has a runner and flowers. The counters have been spic and spanned." She gave him a strange look. 'What did that mean?' Before he could think of an appropriate retort that would assist him in finding out she turned. His Angel inspected the rest of the house. "Throws folded and creased in the living room. No laundry in the hamper. Clean sheets and duvet cover on the bed. Dean C. Winchester, man of many talents?" Angel said as came back into the kitchen.

He howled, from the depths of his soul. "Sweetheart if you only knew." He put a hand up before she could sass him. "Growing up I took care of the household. Guess old habits are hard to break." 'Was he blushing? Wow.'

"What did you get?" His child like enthusiasm was endearing. "Household items and such." He looked downcast. Her eyes twinkling with mirth "and maybe a present or two." Dean clapped his hands together. "Presents." His face was glowing. Absently she wondered how many people he let his guard down with. She imagined the number was a very small one.

Crap in addition to a beaming face he was also sweating. He had over worked his body. "Kansas, why don't you have a seat on the couch? I will bring the goodies over as soon as I store my girlie stuff." He crinkled his nose. "Come on you don't want to help me put that away do you?" Knowing there was more to it the 'domestic' took the hint. "Girlie stuff, ugh, going to living room now."

The going was slow but Dean headed to the living room, intending to sit on the couch as she asked, really he did. Then he heard her in the bathroom storing the feminine things. 'Feminine things, the fact that he was even thinking about that shit made him shudder. His curiosity got the best of him. Instead of heading to nice leather recliner he veered off and went back to the front window. He looked out just as he had earlier. Only this time his was focus on the truck for different reasons.

You could beat the crap out of a Winchester, but he would always be a Winchester. 'Know your surroundings Dean you never know when it will come in handy.' Did she obscure the license plate on purpose? As if she knew what he was thinking she commented, "You don't remember it was raining that night?" 'Oh shit, busted. How had she snuck up on him?' "If you think you can make it out there without passing out, by all means go for it. If however, you collapse in the process, I will leave you out there."

She was upset. He might even go so far as to say pissed. Judging by the adamantine look on her face she would leave him out there. "Angel I didn't mean." She cut him off. "Stuff it Dean. Natural Winchester distrust, didn't expect it from you. I am disappointed." Before he could offer a reply or supporting evidence to the contrary, she walked out.

The newly returned caretaker left the door open, so he could observe. She didn't want him to think she was keeping anything from him. 'You fucked up dude.' He watched her walk over to the garden hose and fill up the bucket in front of it. 'Another sunflower, crimney didn't Kansas have enough? What was with the theme?'

Without sloshing a drop his Angel carried the water jug over to the old pick up. 'How did she do that, not spill any?' When she made it over to the plate she dumped the water. He watched the action, with each drop that dripped of her tailgate he felt more and more ashamed. All though it was the car she was cleaning, it was he who felt dirty.

"Angel, please I am sorry." He limped out to her. "Please, I am very sorry." Spurning his apology she took a rag out of the back of the truck and wiped off the plate. She made sure every speck of dirt was gone that the information he was seeking was unobstructed. Then she opened his palm, gently even though she was pissered off and put the muddy cloth in it.

"Mary, please." The use of her given name stopped her. She looked at him. "I have not lied to you. Have explained that there are certain things I can't tell you. Dean, I have to trust you. You are a smart boy you could track me down before its time." He fucked up, big time and he knew it. Don't try to hide it, tell her the truth, all of it. "Mary, please don't leave." The don't leave was almost chocked out. "I told you Mr. Winchester I would not leave. I gave you my word. A word is a promise and I never break promises. I also told you I would answer everything I am able to. If you do not trust me, there is nothing I can do." 'Mr. Winchester, oh hell.'

Something inside him snapped. "You know what sweetheart, leave me. Everyone else does." He turned around and limped back into the cabin. Not as dramatic as he would have liked but fuck she was going to leave anyhow. Just as he stepped in the dwelling her heard say. "I will never leave you." 'Yeah right,' he wiped a tear that had the nerve to leave his eye away, 'everyone left him.'

Dean slowly made his way back into the bedroom, found the keys to his baby. The knee brace wearer teetered out of the house, breathing labored. That girl, she wasn't no Angel, was washing the rest of the truck. 'Had it rained that night?' He vaguely recalled raindrops hitting the barn roof. Summer storms were common in the Midwest and Missouri was famous for weather changes. He could not believe his jackass father put him back in fucking Kansas. Dean could even understand lashing him with a belt. But Kansas, just knowing he was in the state was driving him mad.

The emotionally tempestuous twenty six year old could feel her eyes on him. 'Go ahead sweetheart watch me. Ain't nothing wrong with my ass.' By the time Dean made it to his sweet Chevy the world was spinning. The classic rock aficionado started humming a song, King of Pain by Police.

…There's a little black spot on the sun today… I have stood here before inside the pouring rain…With the world turning circles running 'round my brain…I guess I'm always hoping that you'll end this reign…But it's my destiny to be the king of pain… I'll always be king of pain... Check that the world wasn't turning circles round his brain. Kansas, fucking Kansas was.

Steadying himself Dean opened the trunk of his beloved Impala. In the bottom left hand corner beneath his weapons cache was his private box. He Dad assumed everything special was in his rosewood box. Dean let the myth stand. No, he kept the stories in there. They might be personal but if his Dad ever decided to look he would have just laughed at the never ending legacy that was Amos and Craven. Here in a populus deltodies engraved chest that belonged to his Grandmother was where he stored his memories. Dean missed his grandma she was a strong woman who didn't put up with his fathers crap. He remembered overhearing her say to his Dad.

December 21, 1983Centropolis, Kansas

"Jonathon, I know you are grieving for Mary, but your boys need you. Don't ever make them feel unloved, like you did. Remember to hug them and tuck them in. Most importantly tell them you love them. Rose Winchester's son attempted to say something. "Don't you sass at me in anger. You know I am right." The despondent husband ran his hands through his hair. "Yes, mom I know."

Seeing that she might just get through the misery and despair that clung to her son like a second skin the concerned mother continued. "Have you watched the way Dean's been holding Sam? He needs a connection to him it is as if he lost both his parents in one night. Go talk to your son, tell him you love him and you are not going to leave him." Present day Dean didn't think he would mind if his Dad showed up right then and told him he loved him and wasn't going to leave him.

June 2, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

He placed a shaking hand on the wooden container. Dean's mind focused on the woman who gave the worlds greatest hugs and instilled in him a great regard for the land. 'Respect it and it will respect you.' His whole life was in this box with a carved Helianthus Annuus or the sunflower, Kansas's State Flower. Everything he held dear, except for Sammy. If he could have fit him in the box he would have. Shit, Kansas was still spinning. Dean forced his breathing back to a semi normal rhythm or as close as he was going to. Then with determination in his limp, he inched his way back.

By the time that girl came into sight spots were dancing in front of his eyes. He was almost dragging himself. 'Help he didn't need no stinking help.' Male bravado would carry him to bed. Walking up to him his Angel no not his anymore everyone leaves him, slowly took the box from under his arm.

'Bloody hell the box must weight thirty pounds. What was in it?' The owner of the now clean 1971 Chevy truck though. The feral look in Dean's eyes told the contents were of the utmost importance. The warning they issued said, 'fuck off.' Her eyes told him message received, 'dumb ass.'

She put her soft hand on his contused cheek. Oh hell, he was burning up and not from the fact he was so handsome he could set the world on fire. 'Why did he have to be so stubborn? Why did she have to let his cautiousness wound her?' Silas told her she wasn't supposed to have feelings she was supposed to be an automation. Or at least not show that she let anything get to her, normally that wasn't a problem. There were times though.

He jerked at her touch. Mary continued to take his vitals ignoring his ridiculous show on brawn. The feverish man watched as worry flooded her face. 'Fuck her,' Dean thought. With all the strength he had left he roughly pushed her hand a way. She flinched but held her ground. Once the task of taking his stats was complete she sighed. Then spun around on her flip flop cover feet and walked into the house with his lead weight box.

He watched helplessly as the only happy portals to his past walked out of his sight. When she came back out, empty handed, Dean had made it a whole five steps. Wordlessly she put herself under his free arm and helped him into the cabin. It was slow going but they made it. The hunter was so worn out he really used her as a crutch. The girl never complained about the extra weight and as she pointed out in her letter, he wasn't a light weight.

His Angel, no not his, well maybe his… helped him down the hall to the bedroom. Through the open entryway his eyes focused on the sunflower covered tray, she had made him dinner. When they made it to the doorframe he leaned heavily into the wood bracing him self, while she pulled the covers back. Then none to gently she dumped him onto that heavenly pillow top mattress.

Still not ready to talk to him the brown eyed girl glanced at the tray Dean followed her path. Two Tylenol where sitting next to a glass of water. Once he swallowed the pills she turned and left him. 'Oh to Hell in a hand basket.' Dean knew he needed to mend the situation. Why do woman have to be so, frustrating and emotional. Dean let out a sigh who was he kidding. He was just as emotional, if not more. Every man has a breaking point.

He heard her phone ring. 'This is it she is going to leave me.' He could feel tears stinging the back of his eyes. "Auggie I am so glad it is you." Pause. "I miss you too. Loads and loads." Then a frustrated sigh and another pause. "No, young Mr. Winchester has been quite the gentleman." Laugh. Pause. "Of course, he is Dean Winchester. But no, I don't really fit the bill. Besides, I don't think he could get the job done at this point." Pause. Laughing. Pause. "Flipping signposts." Long Pause.

"What the fuck, sorry Auggie, what the flying bricks…" 'Flying bricks?' "Does he expect, his father beat him into a coma. Auggie, I thought there would be another Winchester gravestone. He coughed up so much blood. His urine ran with it for days." Jackass, heavy on the ass part Dean thought, that's what I am. She cared she fought for him still even with his being the worlds largest jerk. He let her down and she brandished a verbal sword and continued to champion him.

Another long pause. "I don't know Aug, I don't know. I promised him I would not leave until he told me he was ready. You are well aware I keep my promises." Short pause. "How's my boy? Does he miss me?" Very long pause, with quite a bit of snickering. "Owen did what?" Pause. "Kiss him good night for me." Pause. "Love you too."

She had a boy? Well, of course she did. Why did that make him feel infinitely worse than he had before her phone conversation? Auggie and Owen. She didn't wear a wedding band. That might explain her reaction to his physical flirting.

'Oh fuck. I am the biggest creation in the world.' "I promised him I would not leave until he told me he was ready. You are well aware I keep my promises." His Angel, yes his, was going to stay with him despite his retched actions. She really was an Angel. He didn't want to stay with him.

The seraph came to check on him about an hour later. 'He had that heavy ass box on his lap. What is blue corn blazes was in there?' "Is your body feeling better? Do you need anything?" Her voice flat as she asked. 'Yep Dean my boy, you fuckered up.' The twenty six year old couldn't bring him self to look at her. Instead he kept his eyes focused on his hands. "No, thank you for asking, my body is returning to, well as normal as possible." He replied with a mirthless laugh.

The caretaker did a quick once over of his person, satisfied she took the tray and left. Maybe a half hour had ticked away when she returned with a peace offering in one hand, white napkin in the other. Silently she waved the napkin. He chocked out a laugh. She was waving a white flag. He should have been the one to do that. Dean watched silently as his Angel set down cloud covered cups.

'Clouds? What happened to the sunflowers?' The bruised man on the plush bed pondered the conundrum with great interest. The barefoot auburn haired woman went to move the chair; Dean stilled her with a touch of his hand. Then he and his box scooted over. 'Big Timer, Montana' she thought, where did he find the strength to lift it?

Taking the wordless invitation she sank down next to him on the comfy surface. "You know, I could get used to this pillow top thing." Dean laughed at her attempt to ease the tension. He picked up her hand "Mary," with a deep and apparently by the look she gave him audible breath, "I was a complete ass today. There is no excuse. Please forgive me."

She squeezed his hand and not releasing her grip. "Dean, I was a complete bitch today. There is no excuse. Please forgive me." He squeezed back and held it. They both looked at each other their respective expressions so serious. Then they both cracked up. The nursemaid floated the cloud cup to him.

"Ah Beauty and the Beast, don't we make a pair? But if anyone else calls you a Beast, I'll rip his lungs out." Her eyes were twinkling. "Angel, your humor never ceases to amaze me." Dean took a sip of his cocoa. "How hard would it be rip someone's lungs out?" She smiled so sweet. "Twisted sweetheart, you are twisted. Love it." Her sardonic look said it all.

Handing the tumbler back, Dean placed his hands on his Cottonwood box. Sensing a change in atmosphere, Angel set the sky scene covered chalices down and shifted so she was looking at him. "Angel, at the risk of ruining our new found truce." She gave a deep, exaggerated sigh and raised her eyebrows. The walls in her face stayed down. That was a good sign right?

'Talk as you mean to go on.' Dean was warring with inner dialogue. 'Ask, what do mean ask, you have to ask, no you don't, yes you do, be a strong man, wimp.' She watched the fervent conversation play across his face. When he crinkled his nose and chewed on his bottom lip, she had to bite down a smile. She waited patiently for his battle to finish.

'Was she smiling at him?' "Angel I heard your phone ring." She raised an eyebrow. "You thought I was making arrangements to leave?" She asked without choler in her voice. In fact he thought he heard understanding. "Truthfully, it had crossed my mind." It might have, but she wouldn't he knew that now.

"As I think you have deduced, I kind of have small fear of abandonment." Dean looked down at his box as he said this. 'What in the sticks was in there?' "Small Fear? What do you consider a large flashing sign?" She smiled at him when she joshed. "Point made Angel."

"I didn't mean to hear your side of the conversation, but I did." He actually looked disconcerted as he admitted the transgression. The girl who had just had said overheard chat couldn't think of anything that she said that would make him sheepish accept for listening in the first place. "Okay, bad Kansas." Dean looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Kansas, what do you want me to say? I have heard phone calls before."

'Be a man.' "Who is Auggie? " Eyes twinkling at his obvious discomfort she took a sip of her restorative cocoa. "Your husband?" At the second question she almost chocked on her drink. When she swallowed she howled with laughter.

"Auggie is going to love that. My husband." His Angel continued to chuckle. "Dean apparently your eyesight still hasn't returned, I am not blond, blessed with big girls, a demure figure or a wedding band." She picked up his hand and slid it over her left. "No silver shackle. No husband." Still smiling she gently released his warm fingers. 'The fever should be decreasing by now.'

"Auggie my husband…" The injured young man wished her grin were infectious. It wasn't. "He might as well be the amount of time we spend together. I do love him and he is as handsome as they come. Alas though, he not my spouse. He is your Dad's age. Not that I am opposed to the May-December thing just not with Aug." 'What does May-December mean?' Dean didn't think it was the right time to ask. She was in the sharing mood and he wanted to listen.

"At the risk of blowing my employers anonymity…" before she could continue the man sitting next to her cut her off. "Please Mary, I want you to know I respect the position you are in. Don't say anything you think might…" "Dean its all right. Honest, I appreciate your acquiesce. At this point we either trust each other or bust." He nodded. "…you have meet Auggie. According to my virtual husband…" the hazel eyed Winchester groaned. "…it was some years back, but you have meet him."

Dean was drawing a blank, he meet someone name Auggie. "What is his last name, to me he would have been Mr. Something?" He questioned his Angel. "Nice try Kansas. No, if you came to it on your own, there was nothing I could do. Auggie is my employer's right hand man and a very close friend. "

She smiled at him. "He is also a good friend of your Dad's. Auggie was the medic for their unit." The owner of slightly more messy than it was earlier bun watched the wheels turning in her bedmates mind. 'Medic for his Dad's unit…It rang a bell, but he just couldn't place it.'

"You were worried I was married?" Asking him genuinely curious he seemed very worried. "Well the other night when I touched you, you flew off the bed. When I heard that call I figured you were married. That would make sense." 'What was the look she was giving him? It didn't look good.'

"I didn't react to the Great Dean Winchester's touch and that means there is something wrong with that?" Nerve, that look was her last nerve. 'Uh oh.' Hoping to defuse her ire he went with abashed humor. "Most women usually fall into my touch you ran away. It's a new experience for me." The look he was giving her made her relent. Sad kicked in the head puppy dog eyes.

"Kansas, you could not have caught me if you life depended on it." He smiled at her and with an unflinching voice said. "I would always catch you Angel." The girl who would be caught couldn't help smiling as she replied, "Oh Kansas, you are a charmer." He went to say something else. "I know you are serious." She knew it too, he would.

"Auggie wanted to make sure I was okay. After talking with our employer my man thought I might need a sympathetic ear. He also wanted to fill me in on what I had missed while being your Florence Nightingale." Hoping to not have to ask who Owen was he prompted her. "What did you miss? Anything important." Then he stopped abruptly. "Kansas, are you okay? What happened?" Her one hand took his pulse and the other moved his face to check his eyes. His pupils looked normal, his rhythm was even.

"Oh hell Angel, it just hit me. Because of me you have been removed from your life." He was shamefaced. "Dean, please look at me." Sad eyes looked at her. "Dean my life is much like yours. Minus your beautiful car." He smiled at the passion with which she said beautiful car. "Most of it is spent hunting down bad things or supporting those who do. My side is more research, though I do go out from time to time."

Here it was the turning point he sensed it in his battered gut. "My employer knows several hunters like the Winchester boys. He sort of runs a network, they are known as the Covenant. Your father however is a VERY good friend of his." Dean did not miss the inflection on very. 'The Covenant, she just gave him everything he needed. He would never use it against her. Trust was usually foreign in their lives.'

"Nursing you has not removed me from my life. My small circle of friend's maybe. I only have one friend who doesn't know what I do." He understood. She laughed and started humming a song. He chuckled at her choice Utopia's Freak Parade. Then faintly not quite singing he said the words. …So I gotta take my place in the freak parade, see my face in the freak parade. In a world full of freaks…Marching in the freak parade… 'They were freaks.'

"Still, you could be here awhile." Dean's guilt battling with not wanting to be alone was raging all over his face. She smiled at the conflicting emotions that were both plain as day. "That I will." 'Not could, will.' His Angel went on "This mean's I will have you to add to my list of people to call in case of emergency. You will be on the Covenant's roster now."

Dean turned his head slightly he felt his cheeks flame. He said in what he hoped was a joking manner. "Not to your list of friends?" Her face fell he could see the anguish. "I understand I am a job. At least I made it to your emergency call list." She put her head up. 'Fuck.'

"You will never be just a job." She cracked her neck. 'Oh would that he could do that. He was actually afraid to attempt it, what if his head rolled off.' "My employer would prefer it that way." His Angel sighed, yes his. Moving her hand to rest on his cheek, "Kansas, you know you could never be just a job. I wouldn't have fought to stay if I didn't care. You've grown on me."

Then she laughed. 'Laughed?' "Oh fuck." He raised his eyes. "I didn't mean that in the literal sense. It was just getting to chick flick in here, even for me." He laughed while putting his hand to her check. "You are one of a kind." Moving hers she covered his hand for a second. "I am choosing to take that statement as a compliment." Then dropping it she turned and handed him the liquid chocolate dispenser. They sipped in silence.

Placing her cup back on the side table she answered his earlier questions. "I didn't miss anything important. Owen found a new burial site. He must miss me." His Angel had a far away look in her eye. His? Hum. "Who is Owen and why was he looking for burial sites?" Dean asked keeping the tone conversational. "You mean there are people out there who don't enjoy looking for things that go bump in the night?" He laughed at her quip about there out of the norm lives.

"Owen is a coon dog and he fancies himself a ghost hunter. He is actually Auggie's dog. Auggie doesn't like me going to the cemeteries by myself so Owen comes with me. Owen is a kick ass hunter dog." 'A tailwagger, Owen was a dog' "A ghost hunter?" Dean asked with a little of the disbelief he was feeling coming out in his voice. His Angel's chin hardened and her nose twitched. "You would like him. He can pick up a spirit a mile away." "Owen is a kick ass hunter dog." The normally kick ass hunter agreed.

"Kansas, I have to ask now, can't hold it in any longer." The look she gave him spoke volumes as to her curiosity. "Angel?" He turned his head. "What is in the world's heaviest box? The one currently residing on your legs?" The brown eyed girl watched his face go from indulgently humorous to instantly sober. "Kansas, I didn't realize. Please forgive me. As I told you, you do have the right to privacy."

She went to move. He again stayed her with one hand and reached over her, placing the chocolate peace offering down with the other. "My life is in this box. All the good memories I have. Dean Christopher Winchester may be the biggest opposer to chick flick moments, but he does have feelings." She gave him an amazing smile, one that light up the hidden room inside him.

"My grandmother gave me this box when she knew she was passing. I would sit with her for hours. We would talk and laugh. I would learn. She taught me everything she new." He chuckled at some distance memory. "She was a formidable woman my nana. Nothing scared her. Well, leaving me she said did." His eyes were still in the past.

August 10, 1984Centropolis, Kansas

"Dean my little man, you are very special. Don't you let your father take your heart. It is the salvation of the Winchester Family. Remember that all though he will do things you don't understand at the time, he loves you more than life it self. Take care of Sammy, not just because he needs you, but because you need him. Also, please remember to take time out a be kid." When he focused on her his eyes were in the present. "I didn't know what salvation meant then. Sure do now."

June 2, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

"Wow, she sounds like a woman I would have loved to know." Dean grinned. "You two would have become fast friends." Angel grinned back. "That is one of the nicest compliments I have ever received." Tracing the sunflower on the cover he traveled back in time again. "She knew what my Dad had in store for us. The constant moving, the 'little soldiers or boots as he said.' She also knew that I would be the glue that held the Winchester's together. While it's true I raised Sam, was his destroy of things in the dark and taught him all the important things he knows. I helped my Dad battle the evils of his soul to. When I was little I'd rub his back like he would us."

He ran his hands over the box in a calming effort. "Maybe that is why this is so hard. He could have tried reasoning with me." She put a hand on his. "Would you have listened?" Sighing he answered. "I don't know. But I deserved the benefit of the doubt. Before when he walloped my ass he always told me why first. Never just paddled it, well Weeping... 'Weeping? Weeping what' she thought. He wanted me to understand what I did and why I was receiving the punishment that would cause me not to find resting on my bum comfortable." His Angel squeezed his hand. She knew how hard it was for him to talk about this, male pride and all.

"Anyhow, I sat with him while he cried as many nights as I have sat with Sam if not more." Dean looked at her. "Why? Why didn't he try?" She bit her lip. "I don't know Kansas, I don't know. He did what he thought was best at the time. Maybe he forgot and is going to do the process in reverse. Walloping and then explanation." A hallow laugh rang forth from his still cracked lips. Mary went on, "He loves you that much I know. He sobbed in my arms after he saw you laid out on this bed looking ready for a whole other kind of box."

Dean looked at her, tears shinning in his eyes. She opened her arms. He leaned into her. His Angel held him for along time, rubbing his lower back. She was still ever vigilant about coming into contact with the bruised kidney. When Dean finally lifted his head it felt as if a weight had been lifted off him. He looked at his Angel she looked down at him, tears staining their respective faces.

They came to an understanding that starry June night. Theirs was a bond that would never be broken. Dean's body healed steadily but slowly. His soul's road to recovery took longer. The hunter found calmness and a peace along the way that humbled him. His Angel helped him to slay his demons and come to terms with the path that had been laid out for him.