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!

7. Road To Nowhere

Greetings All ye readers, thanks for taking the time to view another installment of Carry On Wayward Son. As always these characters are not mine. Can only hope that Mr. Kripke can pull the first episode out of the fire and bring back Dad. He can not be dead. The part of the conversation we didn't hear with Dean – I hold out hope. What would I do without my Jeffrey Dean Morgan? Thanks to Ms. LUCA for all her kind words and encouragement. Reviews are always appreciated. Enjoy.

June 2, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

"You were adorable. Look at your little legs. Are those dimples on your knees?" His Angel was laughing at one of his baby pictures. A then six month old Dean was in a diaper and a little blue tee shirt that had Kansas across the front in fancy white scroll. The aforementioned little legs up in the air, the beginnings of his well known cocky grin on his face. The now twenty six year old decided to share the contents of 'the world's heaviest box.'

When his calloused, still marred hands opened it her eyes went to the name that was carved in the underside of the lid, Rose. Rose Catherine Winchester, mother to Jonathon Dean Winchester and grandmother to Dean Christopher Winchester. The way the young man ran his fingers over the name, the young lady sitting next to him guessed he had done it many times before. We all have actions that provide us a centering peace.

Once the inhabitants of the safe house cabin in Lone Star, Kansas finished checking out the photos of an infant Dean they moved onto the ones of the duo. The duo being the bestest brother in the world and his younger sibling cool brother extraordinaire. There were dozens and dozens of the two of them doing everything from sitting on a log to completely drenched in mud.

It was heart wrenchingly obvious to Mary how close the boys were. This separation however had changed them. They wanted that unspoken connection back but were at a loss as to how to get it. One day it would happen. It was already happening. In every picture one had an arm around the other. The saturated in sloop picture was hilarious their Dad had taken it. The photo became even more poignant when Dean told her the story behind it. Their father called them mud monkeys.

The older of the two mud monkeys in the photo related the memory with a great deal of mirth. "Sammy was five and begged me to learn him to wrestle." The way Dean said five his Angel figured was the way the little one had said it. She cocked an eyebrow. The bed sitting warrior imitated his younger sibling, "Dean I am five years old now, learn me." The older brother reiterated complete with the great Winchester sigh. She knew the lower lip was all Sam. Everyone had their tells.

"Anyhow Dad was helping Pastor Jim do something or another." The storyteller let out a hearty laugh. "So I learned him. Never taught him anything always learned him. No matter how many times I tried to get him to use the proper phrase he would change it back to learn me." Dean's simple smile said it all. It made him feel special. Sam picked up on that, wanted his brother to know he was important to him. The brown eyed girl watched her patient travel back to the day.

October 8, 1988Blue Earth, Minnesota

"Come on Sammy, give it to me good." An older more experienced Dean told his little brother. "What if I hurt you?" The just learning to wrestle five year old asked sincerely. "Sammy you can't hurt me, I am the bestest brother in the world, that protects me." The nine year old informed his cool brother extraordinaire. That was good enough for Sam. They went at it. There were arms, legs, here there and everywhere.

"Dean Christopher and Samuel John." The father of the mud wrestlers bellowed in his baritone voice. For some reason to the brothers their father's cadence seemed deeper when he yelled, especially right now. The older boy wasn't sure as to why. Maybe it was just knowing that his Dad caught them doing something they didn't have permission to do.

Dean looked down at himself and over to Sam, they were soused head to toe in wet dirt. 'Oh no,' the older boys thought. 'We're going to get it.' Instinctively Dean placed himself between his brother and what he perceived as a threat, their father.

John heard his youngest say to his eldest. "I might not be able to hurt you, but he can. What if he spanks you like he before? It will be all my fault again. Cause I wanted you to learn me." The Dad closed his eyes at his the doughty reply. "Sammy it wasn't your fault then and it isn't now. I learned you not the other way around. It will be okay Amos."

Then his stouthearted soldier squared his Winchester chin and looked his father dead in his eyes. "Sir." Dean heard Pastor Jim worriedly say, "Jonathon they are just being boys." The young soon to be hunter watched his Dad look at his good friend and raise his eyes. Not knowing if that was a good or bad sign, he prepared for the worst.

June 2, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

Present day Dean continued, "Dad had came out back to find us covered, not an inch of his children wasn't in thick heavy mud. He wasn't real happy with the two of us, especially since it was October and the days were getting colder. We could have gotten sick." The uncomfortable man shifted on the bed, sighing he went on.

"I should have known better, but it was still kinda warm and well I wanted to learn Sam. We had been cooped up inside helping Jim fix the house for days. Didn't really think Dad and Jim would be finished with what they were doing as fast as they did." She bit a lip at the passion with which he said learn Sam. They loved each other so much. "Yeah that's what I thought when he yelled at us, fuck I really thought for a minute my ass was toast." The narrator laughed and went on.

October 8, 1988Blue Earth, Minnesota

John swallowed and looked at his sons, his wonderful strong sons who shouldn't leave in fear. He thought they were past that. He really did. With a twinkle in his eye and with what he hoped was a chuckle in his voice he asked the mud monkeys, "Boys, what are you doing?"

The over six foot father made sure to make eye contact with his older one. If his Imp relaxed and understood his father wasn't upset, then the little one would know all would be okay. Dean released the breath he had been holding. He could tell his Dad wasn't mad. When he was upset the vein on the side of his eye grew big and he had a look. To be on the safe side though he stuck with sir.

"Sir, Sammy wanted to learn how to wrestle and I though it was okay to show him a thing or two." The wrestling instructor informed his father careful to keep his voice even, as a precaution. 'Oh Mary, I am so sorry.'

The flannel clad thirty two year old raised an eyebrow at the phrase, squatting down so he was at his half pints level he asked the midget. "Well Sammy did you learn a thing or two?" Sam looked him square in the eye. "Yes sir. Maybe even three or four. Dean is a good learner."

John smiled reached over and put a hand on the taller of his two mud monkey's shoulder. "That he is. Why don't you show me what Dean learned you?" His five year olds face swung from his bestest brother to his Dad and back about half a dozen times. "Really?" His brown green eyes were big as he asked.

"Really?" Dean echoed the yearning in the one word was hard not to notice. The baled father gritted his teeth at his dirty blonds questioning statement. Had he been able to hear Jim's thought, he would have heard the last really in the trifecta. Laughing light heartedly for the first time in a long time the man replied with the only response that seemed appropriate. "Really."

For the next several hours John tussled around in the mud with his boy's. All three laughed and had a great time. Yeah he might have been learning them techniques. But it was his son's that taught the lesson that day. 'Sometimes it okay to just let go and roll around in the mud. Life will be there tomorrow.' As it grew dark the father knew it was quitting time. His little centurions were running low on fuel and without the sun warmth would not be had.

"All right then boys. What say you we get ourselves cleaned up and have some chow?" His eyes coruscated with pride when mud caked faces looked at him with content, oh they were tired, but content smiles, "okay Dad." They okay came out more like hoookay. The equally worn out but blissful former Marine gave his children a once over.

John would not subject his best friend Jim's newly waxed floors to a mud bath. "Out of your clothes then." Wide exhausted eyes stared at him startled. "Gotta hose you down, we are not and I repeat not going in the house like this." Sighing he heard small voices say, "Yes sir."

The pastor had been keeping an eye on his wayward family. After hearing the former leatherneck inform his sons they were going to be doused he headed in search of warm wrappers. The boys striped and their father washed them off, careful to keep the pressure at a minimum. When they were clean enough to use the shower without blocking the pipes he said, "finished."

His dirty blond mini me stared at him and with a twinkle in his hazel eyes so sincerely asked, "What about you Dad?" His best friend in the entire world looked at him with a more high handed expression and equally as sincerely said, "Yes, Jonathon, what about you?" The looks on his boy's faces as they hosed him down would stay with him forever. Unadulterated glee. A indubitable happy family moment.

Jim held out oversized green towels for all three participants of what would become an annual mud wrestling event. Sam was the first to enter the house. "Thank you Jim." The owner of soon to be water covered floors smiled at the exhaustion on the little tykes face. "You are welcome Samuel." The five year padded out of the living room. His elfin voice carried back to the former Chaplin from the hall. "Sorry about the water on your floors."

Next through the back door was Dean, his heart warmed at the happy look on the boys face. Most of the time the poor child faked it, but not tonight. This was a special child. Jim only hoped one day there would be someone who made the boy feel it. To Dean it was about making every one else happy. Angels willing there would be a person out there to make him happy. It wasn't that Sammy didn't but the older man knew there was a difference.

"Thank you Jim, I promise to wash down the steps and mop the floors. I'll do it as soon as I am cleaned and changed." Sighing at the little domestic's need to make sure all was good; the kind gentleman patted the young man's head. "Thank you for the confirmation that all will be well with the house boy. Though I never had any doubt."

Last to enter the warm house was his oldest pal and father to the previous entrants. The man whose scared back was glistening under the porch light as he took the towel from his friend said "Thank you Jim." The Pastor cocked an eyebrow at the ungruff expression of gratitude. Normally the single father humfed things out. Tonight though he could hear calm and peace in the dark haired mans voice. "You did a good thing today Jonathon. The boys needed it and so did you my friend. So did you."

The plum tuckered father swallowed, "I know Jim. I was glad we were covered in mud. When they flew at me at the end, hugged me and said thanks Dad you rock… Angels help me, tears stung at my eyes." The Padre grabbed the ghost hunter's shoulder, "Those boys love you never doubt that."

True to his word a nine year old Dean clad in an old tee shirt of his fathers and fleece sweatpants swabbed down the back porch and stairs. Then he moped the living room floor and the hallway. After that the young homemaker cleaned the entire bathroom, even going so far as to change the air freshener. The owner of the house smiled sadly.

The little one promised Jim the first time that the ragtag group came to stay at the Murphy home that he would clean up after the Winchesters. They weren't going to disturb the order of the house. Nothing was more important to that boy than family and to him Jim was family. When you give your word you keep it, even at such a young age.

June 2, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

They were looking at the photos of the three Winchesters men together including the one that Pastor Jim had taken of the 'mud monkeys' wrestling their Dad's arms down when her phone rang. Checking the caller id the lady on the corpulent coffin said, "It's your father."

Dean's fingers tightened their hold on the box involuntarily. "Will you put him on speaker?" Her look was penetrating as if to silently say 'I would do that because?' He swallowed at the intense gaze. The aching son gave her an equally potent stare he understood her trepidation, "I promise to be quiet."

His Angel's gaze softened, she empathized with his need to connect with his parent. The little boy inside wanted to hear his Dad. If he did than he hadn't been completely abandoned. It is a psychological game you play with yourself. Flipping the phone open Ms. Carney pressed the speaker button and in neutral voice said "Good Evening Mr. Winchester." "Evening Bella." The dark haired patriarch of the Winchester clan's tone relayed a kind of exhaustion that comes from emotional turmoil.

The son of said patriarch and his faithful fellow photo looker could hear the sounds of the Ole Girl, John's Chevy truck rattling in the background. "How's my Imp?" The dirty blond's fingers looked as if they might crack the cottonwood chest. The caretaker massaged them until they loosened their hold. Imp must be their special name. 'Oh my poor Kansas.' Shaking her head she responded, "Doing better sir. He was able to eat and keep down food today."

The still black and blue son heard his bastard father sigh. No doubt in his mind, it was followed by his hands rubbing his face. His Dad did that when he was stressed. They all did. Another gesture the father passed onto his boys. "That's good. Has he started pelting you with questions yet? Kid might joke about Sam being the one to attack like a dog with a bone. But Imp, he never lets up. He just learned his mother's art of subtlety."

The wounded man watched in fascination as his Angel gave his father her middle finger. Then she laughed and cautiously replied, "I'm sorry sir. I thought we were speaking about Dean." 'He could be subtle. Sometimes.' He conceded in his mind. She was still chuckling. 'Okay maybe subtle is too subjective a word.' John Winchester's laugh rang hallow. His voice was rough as he asked, "He is up then I take it?" Mary kept her cadence detached as she answered, "Yes sir."

Another sigh, 'holy schnikey' the girl thought. 'This family takes sighing to a whole new level.' Not one to beat around the bush the crestfallen father went straight to the question he most wanted no needed to know the answer too. "Does he hate me?" Dean could hear the break in his father's voice. His hand released the box and gently touched her phone; he closed his eyes at the emotion the catch stirred. Watching the hand movement her heart dropped. They both loved each other so much. 'Why oh why. Stupid stubborn men…'

The owner of a really messy bun after the day she had let her thoughts trail off. Her voice sad as she answered, "No sir, he doesn't." The older hunter's breath was audible. "Damn it Bella, I have told you to call me John. After all we have been through together. I thought we were past that." Interesting the son thought, his Dad always let people call him sir. He must really respect her. "Yes sir," her tone even as she answered. 'What had they been through together?'

John cut her off and with the barest hint of levity said, "you know sweetheart, you remind me of Dean on his last birthday." Check that he called her sweetheart his father never used terms of endearment like that he must really hold her in great regard. When the twenty six year old found out why his Dad held her in great regard he would see them both in a new light.

'Sweetheart' looked at Dean as if to ask 'what did you do?' Smiling he mouthed the words "I would only call him sir." Grinning at him she spoke into the phone "How's that sir?" John humfed. "He would only call me sir." Not for the first time in his life did John Winchester loath that word. 'Sir.'

His nursemaid and friend, yes friend smirked. 'Oh shit' Dean thought in the short time they had spent together he had come to know that grin, his father was in for something. Again careful to keep her voice unbiased, "You raised him to respect his elders, sir." 'Take that Sir!' The knee brace wearer smiled at her emphasis on the word elders. His Dad didn't miss it either. Or her deliberate use of the word sir at the end of the statement.

"Bella." The road traveling hunter lamented with an exasperated sigh. Showing the heartbroken father more magnanimity than he had provided his son she moderated her voice a minute amount, "No your son doesn't hate you, he could never hate you. Dean understands that you did what you felt you needed to do. He does wish however you had consulted him first." John sighed again a bone weary sigh. 'What was it with this family? Did John think the only things he needed to pass on were a stubborn streak and a sigh?'

"Bella if I thought he would have listened I would have. Dean would have followed me order or not. You know full well how dangerous things are getting now. Despite what he might think, his safety is a priority to me." She looked at Dean, giving him an encouraging squeeze of the hand. The young warrior against dark forces stared at the skeleton on her wrist. 'You know full well how dangerous things are getting now. Okay Dean you will have to do a little recon just how the fucker on the phone taught you.'

"Sir he does know and the sad thing is you know that he knows. I do not understand the thickheaded Winchester Male Pride. You two love each other beyond measure why oh why." The recuperating Lawrence native raised his eyes heaven ward at that. The just mentioned Winchester Male Pride in all its glory. Attempting a little bit of humor the father commented "Bella, if you don't now you will soon. Dean has perfected it, actually made it into an art form."

Something about the joshing hit her the wrong way. Humor in the face of adversity was Dean's trait, being an ass was John's. The spunky Covenant member silenced the older hunter with her biting words. "And why do you think that is John?" The healing hunter cringed at the way she said John. It was to get a rise out of his father and to let him know whose side she was on. Not his. Dean touched her face and mouthed the words, "thank you." She touched his face her smile kind, "your welcome."

Then Mary turned her attention back to the man on the other end of the phone. The caretaker was not going to be deterred. In the coming seasons her bedmate would come to appreciate and then execrate her relentless pursuit of defending hers. "You molded your son, no one else, you. If Dean acts the way he does. It is because of your actions." The emphasis on the word your actually made the physically abused man next to her recoil. If the two sitting on the bed could have scene John they would have observed his hands tighten on the steering wheel so hard they turned white.

Dean smiled despite his disconsolate heart, as his champion took no prisoners. His Angels voice was hard and uncompromising. Much like John's had been when he said the same words to his son, the son in question mused. "Take care of your brother Dean. We are fighters Dean. This is our life Dean. There is NOTHING more important than family Dean. You can't train him to follow your orders like a good little boot. Then get angry when he does what you trained him to do. There is NOTHING more important than family Dean. Maybe you should remember there is NOTHING more important than family John."

Hazel eyes widen with shock or he wasn't sure what. Dean touched Mary's hand he not knowing if it was to stop her or encourage or maybe just reassure her. Girl had stones man. If he had said something like that to his Dad he had no doubt he would have garnered one of his rare backhands. Dean lowered his head to the phone. Would be worth it even in his mending condition just see his father's expression.

The man didn't say anything for a whole minute. Probably to flabbergasted to formulate the words in his head into a sentence. Then "Bella. Don't take that tone with me." He heard the indurate edge in his father's voice as the former Marine answered. Not backing down or giving an inch she continued.

"Why not John?" His son shuttered this time at the disgust with which she said his Dad's name. "What are you going to do to me? Beat the living hell of me? We both know I can take a beating. Besides I am not afraid of you John. So bring it on." Cast iron, girl had cast iron ones. 'We both know I can take a beating? What happened to his Angel that his Dad knew about?'

Dean touched her face holding her still bruised check in his rough hand. It might be few and far between, but his Dad would have kicked his ass but good for talk like that, despite his current state. The Impala driver couldn't be certain that if his Angel were in front his Dad she wouldn't have received the same reaction. Telling the old man to 'bring it on.' That bold statement would have been where John hit her, girl or no. Taunting was a dangerous action to take with the Great John Winchester. She wasn't afraid though the twenty six year old really believed that.

"Enough Angel, Please." The dirty blond implored his verbal sword brandishing Angel as loud as he dared without alerting his Dad to the fact he was privy to their conversation. Her brown eyes raged with the flames of someone on fire to protect their own. The maker of breakfast in bed turned her head back to the phone squeezing his hands as she did, hoping to find the strength to continue. Some one had to tell John like it was. Mary knew him well enough she thought to try.

When the next words came out of her mouth, he realized this was for him. Dean was humbled at the gesture. His Dad was in a state of shock, had to be. He hadn't replied to the challenge at all. No one Dean knew would talk his father like that. Only once had Sammy tried and he received a harsh punch to the face for his efforts, deservedly so. Still the kid hadn't said the words with the stone cold ferocity she had. No Sam was caged. To her she was simply stating it as it was.

Sensing the boxer on the other end of the phone wasn't ready to retort she went in for the kill. "John, Dean knows you love him and you made what you thought a prudent decision. Not that he understands why you thought it was best. Given your abhorrence of physical reprimanding…" That did it the son thought his beautiful brown eyed Angel stuck the nail on the head, the man's Achilles Heal. This was for him the stitched face Winchester felt the tears sting the backs of his eyes. His father spoke up before she could continue.

"Girl I might abhor it doesn't mean I won't if the situation calls for it." "Name the time and place John." Was the brazen and undaunted response to his tactful way of reminding her he would paddle her ass if she were with him in person. Dean jerked at her statement. His Angel would have been in his fathers vice grip her backside burning from his Dad's harsh unrelenting hand.

He prayed to the Angels and that God Jim told him about that his Dad wouldn't harm her. Because if his father tried the still half broken son knew with every once of strength he had left in his body he would defend her. Dad or not. Turns out the son needn't have worried. John still remembered her ripped open and saturated in blood.

Then as is if tossing the gauntlet down in front of his father and waving her sword hadn't been enough she went on. "He also knows the strap marks across his back are your way of saying its okay to hate him. He doesn't. You raised a strong son with an iron will and endless capacity to process the world around."

Mary took a deep breath and finished before she lost her nerve. "Dean also has your heart. I know you told me he inherited this from Mrs. Winchester but he has yours. Semper Fidelis, Terminus." Both Winchesters listening had tears in their respective eyes neither wanting to let them fall they bit on their lips. Another thing the father past on to his boys.

The girl knew it was time to stop talking to John the way she was, it could be considered reprimanding, which is what she would receive, a harsh one if he decided to take this up with Silas. The hunter was after all her elder in both life and the Covenant. Slights against a senior member of the Covenant, especially a Winchester would not go unpunished. No, she really didn't think the senior Winchester would pursue that avenue. Things changed between Silas and John that night.

Lowering the heat in her voice she said the same words she had earlier. This time with tenderness and compassion, "there is nothing more important than family." The six foot one son heard his father swallow. "He learned that from you. Because to you there is nothing more important than family. You would walk through the catacombs of hell for those boys. Why would you expect Dean's thought process to be any different?"

The ordinarily indomitable warriors lost their battle with the tears. Dean's traced a bumpy path down his checks. John let his fall off his chin onto his hand. A hand still cut from pummeling his son to the other side of the catacombs of hell. He thought back to that moment outside of the barn. When he wondered if he made the right choice asking Silas to send this pip squeak to care for his first born.

Mary did have a smart mouth just like Deans and boy did the girl have grit. Not even his arrogant Sam would have mouthed off like that. The aging Winchester couldn't be sure he wouldn't have hauled her over a knee or not. Truth was he never heard her like that, she was as even keeled a rudder as you could get. Just like his Imp.

As evidenced by her carefully chosen, yet impassioned words, the freckled nosed girl was blessed with the same iron mettle as the wounded young man she was tending too. John had watched the girl in action. Dean would have said, 'girl has stones Dad.' He had to agree. 'Not all Angels have perfect halos.' His Mary's voice rang in his head. The father figured this girl was as close as Dean could get, and he wasn't wrong. He had been witness to her iron mettle before, even that night she refused to crack…

The plucky little usually in braided pigtails minx with a heart as big the whole state of Kansas would fight to the death for his son. Of this John had no doubt at all, none. She wasn't afraid of him and she would walk through the catacombs of hell for Dean barefoot and without an ounce of fear. The poor girl had already been through hell once, twice if you counted… What was one more trip? One day unbeknownst to any of them that would be put to the test and walk she would.

When he didn't say anything she said in a subdued tone, "From my experience with you, you are a strong and kind man. All you have done for me… Every strong man has weak moments your weak moment was not when you ravaged your son. No it was when you didn't give him the respect of telling him why." Gone was the sass and vinegar, this was the girl he was used to. John ran a hand over his face as listened to the rest of her of what she had to say.

"You are well aware of the fact he is conscious enough to talk with you. You owe him his chance to speak. Please John for me. Talk to your boy. It's not as if at this point he can track you down." The plea was strong yet understated if that was at all possible. 'For her.' The 'boy' wondered what his Dad owed his Angel. John Winchester always repaid a debt. She was cashing a chip in for him, the feelings that stirred in him. He didn't even know their names it had been so long. Mary ran a hand over her side.

The five foot eight Covenant conduit was afraid to look at Dean. His Dad was still after all, his father. Nothing was more important than family to the Winchesters no matter what, they might be at odds with each other but they would always band together.

Using the time honored tradition of evasion she kept her eyes on the wall in front of her. Dean's Angel reasoned with herself, if she didn't look at him, than he couldn't look at her, then she wouldn't see the disgust in his gaze. If she had braved up and locked eyes with her patient the only thing she would have found was pride.

"Mary." Dean and the lady in question looked at her phone. Surprise on both their faces at the former gunny's use of her given name. It was very hard for him to say it too. It cut another hole in his eviscerated heart. He missed his wife so damn much. The radiant blond she still haunted his dreams, an image would pop up in the middle of the day. Unconsciously he would reach a hand to touch his sweet Marzipan's face.

"Yes, John." The auburn haired pipsqueak as John thought of her prepared for the impending verbal lashing. She had her turn he was owed his. Mary knew if John felt the situation was a breach in rules he would handle it. Between the two of them and she would respect his decision. Even if that meant a good old fashion over the knee spanking. Not that at her age she would want to submit to the degrading position, but if it would square things between them…

Which is why her jaw dropped when he didn't even dress her down. Instead he acceded, "you are right, I should call me son." 'Did he just agree with her?' The battered son smiled. John Winchester did have a pair after all. "Truth is I am scared. Part of me wants him to hate me."

She countered before her daring left her, "Not like you to take the coward's way out." The man on the other end of the phone groaned, knowing she was again correct, but damn it all to hell did she have to point in out? Maybe a turn over his knee might do her some good.

'No.' He could still see images her broken and bleeding in front of him. Twice he had been soused in her blood. That horrible night and when she took a knife to save him. Images flashed on the real running in his head. No, a turn over his knee was a trip she would never make. "Part of me knows that if he said those words to me, I would be done. Finished." The corpulent coffin mates could hear the tears in his voice.

"I am so fucked up." Mary sighed hoping to her self it was of a similar quality to the Winchester sigh. She did have her dignity to maintain after all. "John you are so not going to get an argument from me." They both laughed, the lines had been drawn sides had been taken. The victory in this battle was that everyone involved did or would have their chance to talk. That out of the way a little drollery was in order. "Sweetheart, you two really were made for each other." The girl listening just laughed off the half joking half serious comment.

"The important thing is that you don't leave things like this with Dean. He loves you. That is not going to change." Swallowing the lump in his throat a defeated John Winchester said, "Okay you win, I will call him. Is he sleeping now?" Knowing that both men would need time to prepare she improvised. "Yes, soundly for the moment." The timorous man didn't realize how grateful he was for the reprieve until it was handed to him.

'What if Dean did say those words?' Sam's from years earlier rang in his head. "…I don't ever want to darken your path again…sir." The disquieted father knew that coming from Sam they weren't meant. The boy just wanted out.

In fact he knew Sam had come to a couple of their jobs and watched from afar. Oh he would never tell the little shit all right big little shit, but it dissolved some of the metal chains around his heart just the same. Sammy might have hated hunting actually what it stood for but he loved his family. Not just his bestest brother in the world. He bastard father too.

From Dean though, if that son every said those words, mean them he would. John didn't know where he would be if that happened. There would be no reason to go on then. Yes he did, with Mary, well maybe if Saint Peter let him in. 'And when I get to Heaven, to Saint Peter I will tell. One more Marine, okay solider, but he would always be a Marine even in death, reporting for duty sir. I have served my time in hell. And served he had.

"Okay sweetheart in the morning. You have my word." Hazel eyes noted her face relaxed. Her brown ones looked down as she finished speaking with his father. "Thank you for agreeing to call your son John. You have never broken your word to me. You know the conversation will help you both to heal. Not just Dean but you too." The father sighed and replied, "I know sweetheart. Thank you for everything." The former gunny went to disconnect the call. "Pax tectum, John." He smiled and without thinking replied in kind, " post tenebras lux." "Semper."

She smiled as they hung up, maybe just maybe this family would make it through. The Winchester sitting on the bed next to her raised an eyebrow. "What?" The Latin speaker sighed, "I said." Dean cut her off, "I did grow up with my Dad and Jim for that matter. I do speak some Latin. Peace be with you John. After the darkness, light. Always." She turned her head silently saying what! then. "Nothing just impressed that's all." 'That's all, my ass' she thought but didn't say it.

Dean expelled the pent up breath he had been holding. His face was a storm of emotions, ones he normally kept under lock and key. "Angel, you are the best friend a person could ask for." She smiled at him, when the gesture reached his psyche words he heard years ago filtered through his head. "…And don't give me any of that lip about nothing scaring you. Because we both know I know different…when you find her, please let her ease the pain." 'Who knew Jim would have it on the mark?'

"Thanks Kansas, you are not so bad yourself." The bestest brother wanted and needed to address the conversation that had just occurred between his Angel and father. He took a deep invigorating breath and went for it. John Winchester didn't raise no chicken.

"Sweetheart you are damn lucky you weren't in front of my Dad with talk like that. Your cheek would be sporting more colors than it is now. And your nice round ass…" his hazel eyes leered exaggeratedly at the just mentioned body part "…would be smarting as he whaled on it." Somehow she doubted that.

Again she absently ran a hand over a space between her ribs. This time Dean noticed the action. Without waiting for permission he didn't think he would get he lifted her shirt up. 'Holy fuck.' What had made that scar? His Angel's gaze was intently focused on his hand tracing the thick heavy reminder of a battle since past.

Instead of answering his unasked question Sweetheart cocked an eyebrow and responded to the statement. The words almost made him swallow his tongue. "Let him hit me. We could be a matching set." It wasn't the first time he had heard that exact set of phrases. A melee of feelings raged through the ravaged body of Dean Winchester as he thought back to that night.

"You take care of us everyday, Dad and I. If he can't return the favor with anything other than what he did last night. Let him hit me. We could be a matching set." He coughed as he remembered what he said to the kid. "Sammy please… I need to know you will be okay. You might be all he has left."

There were two people in the world willing to take on his Dad just to protect him. Fuck he didn't need safeguarding from his Dad. No anytime that man smacked him it was because he loved him, even now. With this situation it might not have been warranted in the son's eyes, but to the father…

The aching child had to trust in his old man's actions. At least he cared enough to be involved, misguided as his beating, yes beating, he would use the word even if Dad wouldn't, was. Still he appreciated the sentiment.

"Kansas? Talk to me." He could hear the worry in her voice. "Sorry Angel, I just…my mind wandered there for a second." The look she gave him said, 'I doubt that.' Much to his relief though, she let it go. And much to her relief he let the question of her scar and the fact she could take a beating go. For now.

"…You know full well how dangerous things are getting now. Despite what he might think, his safety is a priority to me." The twenty six year old decided it was recon time. "Mary…" Dean started. The look in her eyes stopped him, he needed to know the information, but he was beginning to care about this brown eyed girl with the kind smile.

"Sweetheart? What?" Ms. Carney's face was a cacophony of anguish. "Mary, when ever the Winchester's use it must be important. I…it's just…oh hell, never mind. Chick moment." The man laughed. "Okay, chick moment."

Dean ran a hand over his bruised face. 'Start as you mean to go on.' "Mary, my Dad said 'you know full well how dangerous things are getting now.' What did he mean?" Taking a page out of the Winchester handbook the keeper of Covenant secrets ran a hand over her face.

Then she reached up and pulled her messy bun out of its knot. The wooer of all things female watched in male fascination as she ran her finger through her hair. It stirred something in his stomach. He found the movement erotic. When she had completed the task, she sighed heavily.

"I gave you my word I would answer any question I am able, this is not one of them." The battler of things that go bump in the night could sympathize with her situation. However, if it could effect Sam… "Mary." Dean watched as her eyes hardened and her face became a mask. Nothing, you could read nothing. 'Holy shit.' It was unsettling to say the least.

"Please I just want to know if my brother is in danger." Her windows to the soul might still have been shut but her voice relayed that she understood, "no. Not at this point. When or if that changes, I will tell you. My word is my bond Dean." That was good enough for him. "Thank you Mary." Her eyes softened a little and she smiled at him. 'Nothing is more important than family.'

The exhausted nurse stretched her neck and yawned. The action was contagious, Dean followed suit. It had been a long emotionally draining day. Neither occupants of the corpulent coffin were very good at expressing the serious side of things cause when they did it all went to hell. Hence their need to be smart mouths, Mary's conversation with John had been a dozy. They looked at each other and in unison said, "sleep."

The female turned to get off the pillow tip mattress. "You know this is a king size bed and I am guessing way more comfortable than that couch out there." Sighing she put her hand of his shoulder, "Kansas, please." The normally a ladies man grasped the 'Kansas, please.' "Sweetheart, not that I wouldn't put out if you forced me too." Eyebrows giving her the wanna wanna. "It's a big bed and you could use a good night sleep." Dean knew he had her when she fluffed his pillow.

June 3, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

They sleep like the dead until the six foot one man's phone rang shrill at 5:30 in the morning. The well rested hunter was the first to make his heavy eyes open. Dean smiled when he realized Angel had her arm around his waist and he had a protective arm over her. His grin deepened when she opened her eyes and became cognizant of the same information.

Dean carefully watched her reaction not wanting to spook or startle her like he had previously. The wooer of all things female tentatively left his hand resting on her hip. She didn't buck or shutter, that was a good sign, right. Imagine the Great Dean Winchester questioning his actions with the opposite sex.

He shook his head and thought about it. This was the first time he spent an entire night with a woman, he always left after they were asleep. It also defiantly the first time he spent any time in bed with a woman and didn't get any. Maybe what he did get though was more important.

"Good Morning" the bedmates said in unison and laughed. Stretching Angel informed him, "I'll go make some cocoa." Then she rolled over not at all concerned that he still had not removed his hand. 'Hum,' he wondered absently. "You don't have to go." The son was a bit nervous about the impending conversation with his father.

"Yes Dean, I do. You get it out, don't let him off the phone and until you have said all you need to say. Do not hold it in. He is a big boy he can take it." As the five foot eight girl got out of bed she handed him his phone. Then she placed a burden lighting kiss to his still bump filled head and softly said virtus and animus. Dean laughed internally, strength and courage. This chick was defiantly one of a kind.

About an hour later the auburn hair girl knocked quietly on the door. "Come in Angel." The hunter hoped his voice was strong and even. His Angel opened the wooden barrier slowly and peeked around the corner. He cocked an eyebrow at her display. She smiled and said, "Just checking to make sure there is no blood or body parts strewn about." Dean laughed at her relaxation tactic, as his father said last night they really were made for each other. "No bodies fill the field's sweetheart." If she could quote rock, so could he.

After the all the clear the rest of her body followed the head. In her small hands was a serving try complete with breakfast. "Breakfast in bed Angel?" His body had that lazy man look. To bad for him his eyes betrayed what he was really feeling. Her pig tails swished, an eyebrow lifted. She would play along for now. "Yes sir, breakfast fit for a king." Chuckling he sat up straight. "I could get used to this."

The server laughed. "Breakfast in bed?" He laughed back. "Breakfast in bed with a sweet piece of ass to deliver it." Dean watched as his Angel's doe colored eyes twinkled with merriment. "Oh my dear boy don't you ever get tired?" He cocked his head, he knew what she was asking, "sometimes, but I have a reputation to maintain." Her head movement mirrored his, "Not with me Kansas. Just relax."

The two strays shared a breakfast of oatmeal, with peaches this time. Wheat toast covered with a generous supply of marmalade and of course cocoa. With a great big Cheshire cat grin the dirty blond said, "thank you Angel that was wonderful." Smiling kindly at her charge she replied, "you are most welcome sir, most welcome indeed."

After the meal was complete, the nursemaid cleaned up and shuffled out the door. When she returned the maltreated but starting to mend spirit hunter was changing. 'Yee hah.' The twenty seven year old thought. 'Even beat to hell he was handsome.' She wasn't lying when told him that.

"Wops. Leaving now." The five foot eight girl said and turned to give him privacy. Without stopping what he was doing the twenty six year old replied with a great deal of humor so as not to make her feel bad. "Because you haven't already viewed what I have to offer?" What ever she was going to say as a caustic reply died on her lips as Dean slowly his wrapped ribs kept the action measured, bent over to slip his Uggs from underneath the bed.

When the nicely sculpted man did this, the voyeur got a nice view of his ass. Not hearing anything from his cabin companion the well toned hunter turned around, "Angel?" She let out a whistle, "Kansas that is one mighty fine ass you got there." The normally cocky Winchester had the good grace to blush. "Thank you ma'mm."

Taking a moment to clear her image filled head the brown eyed girl found her voice. "What are you doing? And don't say getting dressed, that part I could figure out. Why? Were you intending on going someplace?" Dean didn't think he liked that look on her face, well maybe he did. It was just foreign to him to have some one care about him and show it. Usually he did the caring and showing. Okay his brand of showing but his brother and father still never had any doubts.

"Kansas?" There is it was the worry. He smiled he was warming to the idea of having someone just for him. "Sweetheart I like lounging in bed as much as the next guy, but when I can't convince the lady with the beautiful brown eyes to lounge with me… Then I have to find other pursuits to keep me occupied."

'Uh oh,' the young man thought and not for the first time. 'Where do they learn that look? I have got to know. Really I will even pay for the classes.' Those aforementioned beautiful brown eyes twinkled with something he didn't think he was all that comfortable with. She turned her head and lowered her voice. Then very seductively walked up to him, "Kansas, you really want me in your bed?" Dean swallowed as she put her petite hands on his waist, than ran them down his hips stopping at his upper thighs.

"Cause if that's what you really want," she brought her hands to his stomach and pushed him ever so gently onto the bed. Maintaining eye contact the trying her damnedist to be assertive Covenant member bent down and pulled the Uggs off at a leisurely pace, one at a time. Then she climbed on top of him steering him back towards the pillows. Bending her face down so it was less than an inch from his, "I would be happy to oblige,' the wooer of woman shuttered. 'Holy crap,' he never felt so out of control.

He watched rather uncomfortably as she scooted down he body, 'Criminey in the moon this was not the time for Big Timber Wiggly to make his presensce known. Okay normally yeah it would be, but not now and especially not with her. Dean could tell for all her bravado she was scared. Actually that was cold hard fear in her normally kind eyes.

No when he got her in bed she would be a willing participant. Till then he would have to be the bigger person. No he thought, not bigger person, cause bigger wasn't doing him any good at the moment. 'Better man,' yeah that worked. Smiling at him his Angel reached down and before he knew what she was doing the girl pulled the covers over him. Then straddled his tense body over the bedding.

"Angel, you are playing with fire sweetheart." Dean voice was husky and deep. The strained hunter tried not to move but his body jerked involuntarily as she shifted her weight. He could tell it in her face the exact moment she felt him. Dean took a deep breath he didn't know what she would say or do next and despite his current state he didn't want to startle her. It was obvious she wasn't a virgin but the almost omnipotent in the area of carnal pleasure Winchester could tell for all the brave girl was doing she wasn't that knowledgeable and defiantly not that comfortable with sex.

She brought her mesmerizing face down to his so they were freckled nose to freckled nose. "Thank you Dean." She rubbed her nose against his and slowly moved her body off of his, careful not to come in contact with Big Timber who felt like the thickest tree in the world.

'Thank you?' He was going to…right there. 'Get a fucking grip dude. Shit, not fucking. Just get a grip dude.' "Thank you? For what exactly?" The distressed man hoped his voice sounded okay, cause he was sure not feeling it. 'Wow,' he couldn't remember the last time he was this hard. The overly erect twenty six year old tried to breathe through his discomfort.

She giggled and looked down. "That." He tried to laugh as he looked down. 'How red was his face?' He so didn't want to know. "Sorry sweetheart guess Mr. Wiggly has a mind of his own." She laughed harder. He was trying to be a gentleman and she giggled. He put his hands on her arms, a little to roughly he gathered from the way the blood drained from her face. Her body froze, her eyes, 'holy shit' what had happened to this girl?

Dean quickly all be it gently released her. He figured the minute he did she would fly off the bed. Instead she just sat there. '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. His Angel was defiantly dauntless. Yes she was the bravest chick he knew. "Mary?" The recovering tracker of evil kept his voice even.

Without looking at him she responded. "I am sorry Dean. I just didn't want you to over exert yourself like you did yesterday. I figured if I used your tactics then maybe you'd… Teasing was the wrong thing to do. If you want me removed, I will tell Mr. Winchester." She sighed and finished, "anyhow, I overstepped my bounds, please forgive me."

The mentally and physically exhausted girl went to move thinking to pack her meager possessions. 'What was it with the Winchesters?' She and John were square. Why did she feel she owed him more? Again she put a hand to her rib. Hazel eyes watched the internal conversation and the unconscious hand gesture, again. As softly as he could the wooer took that hand. It stayed limp but didn't pull away. Dean massaged the inside of her palm. Not for the first time did he wonder what the fuck happen to his Angel.

"Mary, look at me. Please." Slowly her eyes came to meet his. They were blank, absolutely blank. To call it eerie would be the world's largest understatement. This was her defense tactic. Last night her face might have been a mask, today mother fucker. They all had unique talents. This was hers.

'Patience Dean, patience.' "Sweetheart. This situation isn't easy on any of us. Please don't hide from me." The dirty blond took a moment to let his words sink in. If he was waiting for a reaction he might as well have waited till sunflowers grew out his ass. His Angel just sat there unflinching. He was beginning to understand how the old man felt.

"About calling my Dad, fraid if you did that all he would do is laugh that my renowned powers over all things female failed. There was a girl out there immune to my…" he searched for a phrase. "…special talents." He stopped and looked at her. Nothing, absolutely zero.

'Okay Dean my boy, it ain't working this way.' The mending warrior changed stratagem, "If I am going to heal it is going to be with your help. You did what you thought was best, I won't fault you for that." Another phrase he picked up from his Dad. Dean smiled and went on. "Please forgive me Mary. I didn't mean to scare you."

Her large luminous chocolate eyes relaxed he could see emotions start to swirl in them. Attempting a little levity, "I take it you aren't ready to scale my tree?" She smiled, a small one but still, "No Dean I am not much of an arborist." It took him a second to realize she was joking, well halfway anyhow. "You want to tell me what happened?" Cause it was algetically clear to him that something did.

"Does it have anything to do with the scar?" He placed his hand over the damaged area. His Angel squeezed his hand and swallowed. "No that scar came later." Okeey dokey, she had multiple battle marks… Slowly Dean moved his still torn hand to her chin, moving it so they were eye to eye.

"How many scars do you have?" She closed her eyes to regroup. The pigtailed female didn't want to betray John's confidence. But she also didn't want to lie to Dean. "Do you want me to include the times I cut myself shaving my legs?" Brown eyes looked at him, right at him.

"All righty then. Why don't you go heat us a pot of cocoa. Then you can tell me the background of the scar that came later. After that we can go through the rest of the 'world's heaviest box.'" The slayer of demons knew the both needed a moment to regroup. "You trust me enough to share the rest of the contents?" She was serious he could tell. "You trust me enough to tell me what happened to you?" Was his solemn answer.

Oh man when he found out who did what to her, heaven help them all Dean knew he would kill the person. "Angel, I trust you with my life." As soon as the words exited his mouth he knew them to be true. She looked at him and with a tentative smile said. "Okay Kansas, I will tell you about the scar that came later. For now, one pot of steaming hot cocoa coming right up."

As soon as she was gone the discomforted man looked down at his tent pole, he couldn't believe he stayed up like this, her reaction should have killed his, 'ahh.' Absently he wondered is he had enough time while she made the hot beverages and for that matter if it would hurt worse than the pain he was feeling now. Dean put his marred hands on Mr. Wiggly, "dude I am so sorry. Normally I would take care of business give you some relief. Fraid neither of us are that lucky today."

About ten minutes later his Angel knocked questioningly on the door. Spooked apparently didn't mean stupid. "Its okay sweetheart, you can come in." The five foot eight caretaker opened the door and with small steps walked in. She put the sunflower covered carafe down and stood there. The owner of a distressed nether region could see the uncertainty in her eyes. 'What a fucker, the ass who hurt her.' "Angel its okay you can sit."

Gently she sat on the bed pulling her knees to her chest as she did. Dean laughed. Sam would do that all the time when he was younger. Dean told him when ever your scared and I am not there roll yourself into a protective ball. "Angel it's cool. I am not mad."

The still apprehensive female sighed deep, it was defiantly Winchester worthy. "You have every right to be and you should be. Dean I feel terrible." Laughing he replied, "trust me not as bad as I do. Angel I might have the right, but I am not." She half chocked, half laughed. "I am not used to inspiring that type of reaction in man."

Raising his eyes to her level, he cocked an eyebrow. He could tell she didn't think she was beautiful. He wondered if whatever happened is what made her fell that way. 'Dead, the ass that did this would be dead.' It would be some time before the hunter found out about the event that made his Angel the way she was. After he would hear the story he would know there was no left to kill. They were all gone now. At the present he would have to be content to learn about the scar that came later.

"Course I don't spend a lot of time with guys my own age." He cocked the other eyebrow his Angel continued her eyes far away. He wondered where she was and what the video was that was playing. "With the Covenant, I do most of my contacting by phone. Think of me as the conduit. Besides even if I do meet with the hunters they know that I am off limits. Not that any of our boys are that desperate too need to slum it. They all might not be as handsome as you, but they aren't hard to look at either." The hunter let out a strangled sigh. "Slum it? And thank you for the compliment."

She raised an eyebrow like he had, "please Kansas you might be the cock of the walk, but I am not going to set anyone's world on fire." He didn't even see that she bit a lip after she said that. His mom how could she be so calloused? The Covenant member need not have worried. The convalescing Winchester didn't reregister the slip; instead he said sincerely, "You light up my life."

Her freckled nose scrunched at the earnest statement. Mary was not used to or comfortable receiving compliments. "Oh Kansas, why don't we check out your box. Cause is we keep going I think I might scream." He held out his cup, "One day sweetheart, I will make you scream and you will enjoy it." A big overly exaggerated sigh was the only response he received. Still she didn't say no.

His Angel poured the steaming liquid into his mug. Dean went to take a sip, "hold on Kansas." Her small compared to his right hand opened from the fist she had it in. Three mini marsh mellows were plopped into the sunflower covered ceramic.

"How many scars do you have?" He broached after they had calming sips of their hot chocolate. His Angel took a bolstering sip and set her mug down. "Was I to include the shaving ones?" Dean smiled at her attempt at humor and deflection. "Hunting related battle reminders." Sighing she pointed to the areas. Except for the one he had already viewed, they were in a pattern. Latter, he would go there later.

"Your ribs look like a knife…" The warrior against the dark mused letting the sentence hang. "That it does." She agreed. Okay his Angel and Sammy would get along real well. "Mary." Sighing the five foot eight Irish girl went on. "Ka Bar actually." Mother fucker, a Ka Bar and she was still alive.

"Who knifed you and why?" His Angel placed a hand on his. "Thank you for the anger and the unspoken I want to kill the mother fucker. Am afraid someone beat you to it. The body has already been torched and buried." He swallowed. 'Body. That meant human not demon.' "Yes Dean a human. Though they were possessed by a demon."

He laughed, "are you sure you are not a mind reader?" His Angel laughed at the reiterated of a question he had asked her when she knew what he was thinking. "I was with your Dad." She swallowed at the look that came across his face. "With my Dad? Meaning on a job?" Dean knew his eyes registered shock and probably hurt. His fuck head father had left him out of jobs before, but with a girl. Granted a nice girl who had done well by him, but still.

The Covenant member waited for the twenty six year old to finish his silent dialogue. "With your father. Not on a job. An information drop. I had discovered something in my research that could help him with a project. We were leaning against his tailgate discussing what I had given him and no I can't tell you what it was, so please don't ask." He sighed and touched her hand. "I understand Angel you have a code to live by. Go on."

"We had just finished go over what had been exchanged. Your Dad had helped me with something, he wanted to make sure all was well and…" Her brown eyes looked off into the distance. 'Something.' He knew the something was what was important but he also knew he couldn't push. The stiff necked twenty seven year old rubbed the offender and went on.

"You know that feeling. The pit of your stomach feeling?" He nodded. Before I could stop and assess John handed me a side arm and pulled me behind a tire. We were boxed in." Dean remembered a patched bullet hole in the truck his Dad never explained. He shook his head and went back to listening. "The shots were rapid and erratic."

He cocked an eyebrow, "they were trying to flush you out?" She nodded. "After that they sent things flying, rocks, branches, throwing stars… they…" Brown eyes stared at him and put her hands up in the universally excepted hand gesture for air quotes. "…wanted the book I had given your Dad. Anyhow, we rolled and took up defensive positions. I took down three of the assailants, your father half a dozen."

The hunter stared at his Angel. She understood. "I said I didn't hunt with the ferocity of the Winchester's. Doesn't mean I don't know how to handle a gun." 'There is a difference between handling a gun and calmness in a firefight. She capped three guys? H o l y f u c k, there was a lot he didn't know about his Angel.'

"You are wondering if I am the good person you thought I was earlier or …" The tormented nursemaid let the statement fall off. "No Angel. When Sammy exiled himself to Cali, I drove him out. It killed me but I did it. By the time I arrived back in Blue Earth I knew even though I hate girl talk that my Dad and I had a few things to discuss. Our dynamic had changed and …"

The patient took a deep breath, "…Anyhow he said '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 an indomitable strength Dean.'" He eyed his Angel, "You have an indomitable strength sweetheart." And soon he would find out she saved her fellow solider in arms…

The indomitable strength Angel tilted her head at her charge. "Thank you for the compliment Dean." He bowed his head. She went back to telling the apparition tracker the story. "Everything stopped, nothing moved, the bodies were dead. Your Dad and I looked at each other then stood up cautiously, I heard it before I saw it. The blade flew right at him. Instinctively I knocked him out of the way. The knife landed between…" The memory relater pulled her shirt up, "…these two ribs."

Dean swallowed and gently touched the long since healed area. Tears stung her eyes but his Angel would not let them fall. "I rocked back and John caught me. I coughed up blood all over him. He just laid me down on the ground gently." Wide hazel eyes looked at her, then the scar. "I owed your Dad. Not really how I wanted to balance the scales…" 'She owed his Dad, why?'

"John applied pressure to the wound which was leaking blood like a sieve. Then he located the knife thrower and one shot, a head tap later the guy was history." The listener swallowed, his Dad saved this girl who saved him. A wound to that area, she could have bleed out. "He torched the bodies and got me to the hospital. Thankfully we were in a Covenant friendly area. I lost a lot of blood…" Before he realized what he was doing Dean touched the scar, 'I'll bet you did."

His Angel placed a hand over his squeezed and let go. "Your father wouldn't leave me. I told him it was okay. He was to meet you in Wyoming. I could see the guilt warring all over his face. He didn't want you to think you had been abandoned, but he also didn't want to leave me alone." The healing abolisher of evil thought about it.

The argument they had when his Dad finally showed up. "Dean, can we not argue? Please son, I have had a rough couple of days." The son had been in no mood to put up with what he thought was his fathers getting side tracked by something. "So have I. What the hell Dad? I thought you were just picking up intel…" The son swallowed. His Angel was the reason his father was missing from their job.

"How long were you in the hospital? Who stayed with you when my Dad left?" Dean knew his Dad didn't leave her alone no he would have made sure there was someone to watch over her. He gritted his back teeth, this is why she said, "Please John for me," this was what she meant. The twenty seven year old sighed.

"About two weeks. St Bridget must have been looking out for me the blade missed my lung and anything vital. Your Dad called Landon and after having a heart attack the poor man flew down to South Dakota land of the White Spruce. Imagine my Landers on a plane."

The hunter cocked his head, 'her Landers?' Who the hell was Landers? The storyteller didn't miss the look on her charges face. "Landon doesn't like to fly, he is of the general opinion if you can't drive there it isn't worth going too." Dean grudgingly had to agree with 'her Landers.'

"Kate got there the following day. Your father refused to leave me alone. He told me you would yell at him, but to you the important thing was that he was there. He could deal with your being upset, he could not deal with me dying. Still Dean I feel bad…"

He smiled at his Angel, "I think we are even sweetheart…" Before he could ask her anything else she talked on, "to answer your next questions, Landon is my employer's son and the closest I will ever have to a brother." The dirty blond didn't miss the emphasis on the word brother. "And Kate is my bestest friend and Landon's, what ever the hell they want to call it." The wooer raised an eye. "Another story for another time." Was her response.

"And the other scars?" Dean thought hey if she was in the sharing mood. "Maybe one day Kansas, but not today." He reached a still contused hand over to her smooth one. "Not maybe. One day, but I understand, not today."

The brown eyed girl looked her bedmate in his kind hazel eyes. "Know when that day comes Dean, that you will be the only person I will have shared the information with." Hazel eyes blinked, "you suffered through what ever caused the wounds alone?"

Her beautiful brown eyes closed. "Yes. The aftermath no, there was a very kind but gruff older man who helped me through. Dean closed his hazel eyes, 'his father could be a very kind but gruff, he would never call him older because his Dad would probably smack him on principal for it, man.' No Jonathon Dean Winchester wasn't always a bastard.

The rest of the day was spent continuing the trek through the world's heaviest box. After taking good sips of their respective drinks the now flag at rest twenty six year old opened the lid. He pulled out the card on top. A three year old Sammy made his big seven year old brother Dean for Christmas. Their Dad helped him with writing the words.

Normally his bestest brother helped him with everything from school to picking out clothes. But as this was a gift for the brother in question he couldn't ask him for help. Both Dean and Mary had a good chuckle over the size of the letters. The M was about 5 inches high the rest of the letters went down hill from there.

In the corner was a symbol. The girl pointed to it. The man just smiled his eyes somewhere else in his memory. One day the twenty seven year old would learn of it's significance and it would make her cry. To think at three and seven…

The card underneath that made Dean's face tighten. His Angel looked at him, "you don't have to share anything if it makes you uncomfortable." He smiled, "no Angel it's cool. I might be uncomfortable but maybe the reason it's the world's heaviest box is because I carry the weight of world in it. Sharing it will lighten the load."

The pigtails flopped over her shoulders as she turned her head she was humbled at the statement within the statement. He admitted to carrying his life in a box and trusted her to help shoulder the burden. The wooden chest was full of sacred pieces of everyday life that made up Dean's memory lane. They would travel that road together.

The dirty blond handed her the card. Happy Birthday Son was written in gold scroll across the top, a big tree underneath it. After studying the leaves it looked like it might have been a red maple. Mary swallowed sensing she was about to be let in to a part of Dean's life that helped shape him into the man he was today. She opened the card and instantly recognized John Winchester's distinct block letters.

My Little Imp, I do hope you are able to have a Happy Birthday. Sammy worked hard on everything. Extra Oreo's, the perfect gift, making sure he got all words to the song right. I want you to know Dean you are the best son in the world. I can think of no one I would rather have watching my back, you are without a doubt the bravest man I know. I love you never doubt that. Dad

The girl currently wearing a tee shirt that ironically had a tree on the front and 'climb one' on the back folded the card closed. The older hunter loved his son. 'Never doubt that.' Wow, the pain John was in when he wrote that card… Her heart went out to both the Dad and his boy. "It was from my ninth birthday. My Dad told me years later he had another card picked out but changed it to this one."

His Angel heard the no longer Ugg wearing man swallow. Softly she asked, "Why did he change cards?" Dean looked away at the memory the card brought to the front of his mind. "Because the first one had a barn on it." She smoothed her hand over the card. "Like you told Sam, he is not always a bastard." The bravest man John Winchester knew laughed. "Not always, but sometimes."

After that card she picked up a square looking something wrapped in paper towels. When the brown eyed girl opened the flower covered paper covering the contents made her close those eyes. 'Oh these poor boys.' She silently wondered what Sam kept in his special box. Or for that matter what John kept in his.

"Kid made me a cake on my last birthday. My father and I were in Mill Valley, California not that far from Sammy. He called with his annual birthday call. I stepped out side the funky ass place we were staying so he and I could talk." He gave her a look that said, 'you know brother talk.' Which she translated as 'the ability to speak freely.'

"Sam was upset our Dad hadn't wished me a happy fucking birthday. Joking with him I said yeah, fucking had a lot to do with it. Then boom my phone gets slammed out of my hand. My father looked at me and none to nicely told me, just so you know son, fucking did have a lot to do with it. I loved your mother so fucking much. We had you and your brother."

Mary bit her lip it must have been hard for John. His eldest son's birthday must have brought memories he tried to keep buried to the surface. "That's how I felt." Dean said. Then he went on. "Now, when you call your brother back, tell him your fucking father said, we will see you in a couple of hours."

He ran a hand over the chunky candles with black cars on them. "I was in shock, see my brother on my birthday, with my father, the three of us in one place. My heart was pounding. Like you said earlier to dear old dad, there is nothing more important than family. Imagine me having mine together for a day, I could think of no greater present." She ran a hand over the candles. This family was so fucked up.

"When Dad and I finally arrived the little shit had made lunch and a cake, even hung one of those shiny metallic signs that says happy birthday. These candles were on the cake." Mary understood. They were his connection to a truly happy birthday. With the utmost care the nursemaid folded them back up.

Under the candles was a brown envelope. The girl noticed how her charge stared at it intently, almost as if he was trying to burn a hole through it. When she put a hand on it he tensed, unlike he had at any other time including his ridiculous show of brawn outside. Hum, he might want to travel the road, but ever path had bumps. They would navigate those and take detours.

Her hand just moved it aside and instead grabbed a small folded piece of paper. The still bruised twenty six year old visibly relaxed. Double hum, okay big bumps, long detours. The folded yellow note pad piece of paper that John was renowned for carrying turned out to be a get out of jail free card. She cocked a questioning eyebrow. "A long story. It was a gift from my Dad. One day Angel, but not today." That was good enough for her.

They spent the rest of the day looking, laughing and crying. Dean was a great storyteller. The auburn haired girl laughed so hard at the beginning of the great water balloon grenade day story he actually became embarrassed. Of course thinking back on it, his Dad face dripping with water was kinda funny. Wasn't then, but now. Ha.

"Kansas I am sorry, now I know where your Dad learned to sigh like he does. You and your brother were very inventive." His face sheepish, "Yeah I guess we were. Although if you want to get technical about it. We were just following his lead. Dean one day you will have plan and execute your own tactical exercise. That's what I did."

Her brown eyes swirled, he knew what she was going to say before she said it. Out of nowhere a song popped into his head. …I need an Angel, angel in my life… Dean looked over at her his hazel eyes shimmering with an emotion that went completely against his code. …little Angel, angel here tonight. I need an Angel by my side… Who knew that Bad Company could read his thoughts?

Okay, the nearly truncated man had to admit, maybe his Dad did know a little more than Dean gave him credit for. …I am waiting for an Angel, angel here tonight… The ghost hunter's throat tightened, 'guess I am not waiting any more.' …Little Angel, angel shine your light, I need an Angel by my side… "You have my word I will not leave you until you tell me to go." Go he hoped she never went anywhere.

"That would be how you got out of a sound spanking or an equally torturous way of making you falling in line without leaving any scars?" He cocked an eyebrow back. "No." She gulped. "No, you got a spanking?" "Yes." Dean went to continue, her eyes stopped him. Compassion. "No sweetheart it wasn't like that. He only smacked once and that was after I practically begged him." Mary brought her hand to rest on the hunter's cheek. "You asked your Dad to turn you over his knee?"

The asker understood, "it was only one swat and to be honest it wasn't even remotely hard." She raised an eye. "Trust me…" he pointed to himself and shrugged. "…It might be few and far between, but you always remember a physical reprimand given by John Winchester. When that man spanked you couldn't sit comfortably for days." His Angel applied a little pressure to his cheek and let her hand fall. "Don't worry just listen it all works out in the end."

August 25, 1989Blue Earth, Minnesota

"Okay Sammy, one more time. Check the target, stand, aim, and rapid fire. Got it?" A nine year old Dean asked his cool brother extraordinaire. The older boy looked over at Jim and nodded that all was good. The house owner had asked the little domestic for help cleaning his cellar the day before.

When they were spic and spanning they came across an old dusty box marked junk. The contents weren't junk at all they were left over party supplies. Upon seeing the bright yellow balloons the young destined to be demon hunter had an idea. When they had completed their task Dean asked Jim if he had any plans for the canary festival favors.

"No" the nine year old was informed. The older man asked Dean if he could think of a use. He listened to what the little one had to say. 'Oh my boy.' Jim agreed that with his supervision the boys could use his balloons, he only hoped his good friend Jonathon would appreciate the hard work.

Coming out of his musing the Pastor smiled at the two boys and nodded back. Then he motioned with his head that he was going inside. Dean gave him a salute and turned his attention back to his brother. Taking his small fingers the brother in question pushed his mind of his own hair out of his eyes.

"Got it Dean, " five year old Sam Winchester answered when he could see. The older of the two smiled at the younger. The little one was wearing a hand me down shirt. Proudly. Dean swallowed when he remembered how excited Sam was when he gave it to him. "Really, I can fits in it now?"

The two siblings crouched behind the large fallen red pine in Jim Murphy's expansive back yard area. John had informed his mini hunters he was going to show the fine art of grenade tossing. Sam and Dean wanted to impress their Dad show him that they knew a little something and were ready. That he hadn't made a mistake in his decision.

The older brother came up with the bright idea of practicing with the balloons after seeing them when he helped Jim to set his cellar to rights. Given the go ahead by the adult Dean informed Sam of his thought. They brothers talked about it and convinced the good man of the Lord to get up early with them to audit the practice session.

The boys knew that doing this without adult supervision would be breaking one of John's big rules. No one wanted that to happen. Breaking a big rule meant not finding chairs appealing for a while. Jim helped the bantam warrior's tack a makeshift target on one of big trees that littered the mammoth property. Then together the three of them rolled a fallen one about ten feet from the bull's eye.

The hazel eyed Winchester crouched next to his brother who was at the ready. "On three Sammy." Brown green eyes looked at him, giving him a thumps up. Dean smiled and ruffled the kids brown hair. Then counted one, two, three out on his fingers. As soon as he hit three the two lobbed their 'grenades' at the target. Unfortunately in the time they hunkered down and the time they tossed their father had taken up residence in the pathway.

"Dean Christopher and Samuel John, what in the hell are you doing?" John Winchester bellowed, his face soaking wet, his dark eyes raging. Dean Christopher and Samuel John swallowed. Their father looked at them with no give on his face, "well."

Jim Murphy heard the yell and came running from the kitchen his heart racing. He watched as a normally even at nine confidant Dean looked on the verge of tears. His rolled when he saw Sam slip his little hand in Dean's and the older one squeezed the younger ones almost as if it were a lifeline.

The former Chaplin double timed it down the steps and over to the militarized zone. "Jonathon." He started to say keeping his voice even. He didn't want to frighten the boys any more than they already were. "Stay out of this Jim." The hunter cut his friend off. "No. I will not. You are scaring the boys, can't you see they are terrified?"

John brought his eyes from his former unit mates to his sons. When he saw the look in Dean's hazel eyes, her eyes the father flinched. Then without another word he turned and walked away. The starting to gray at the temples man of cloth watched as the older one bit his lip, the poor boy didn't want to cry. Wanted to remain strong for Sam.

Jim knew the boy thought his Dad didn't love him anymore, just in case that included his cool brother extraordinaire he battled to keep his emotions under wraps no need to let his sibling in on how he failed them both before it was absolutely necessary. Sam turned into his brother's protective hug, "I so sorry Craven." Dean rubbed Sam's back, "nothing to be sorry about Amos."

The Pastor ran after the leatherneck. The former recon Marine had made it all the way to the lake that bordered the Murphy family estate by the time Jim caught up with him. "Jonathon." Whatever else the former Chaplin was going to say after that died on his lips when his oldest and most dearest friend turned to him. Big fat unmanly tears streaming down his checks. "Jim, they were afraid of me." The father pointed to his chest then, "me." His strong baritone voice broke. "What have I done?"

Buttoning his flannel shirt at the early morning wind the other man answered the question. "You have done the best you could with what you have. But Jonathon you have to remember that all though they are Winchesters they are still children. Even Dean. He needs reassurance as much as Sam does that you love them. Maybe even more. Sam has Dean. Who does that boy have?" The father chocked down a sob, " No one, my boy has no one. Oh Mary, please send him an Angel."

The landowner could see past the marks that marred his body straight to through to John's tortured soul. He reached over and pulled his friend into an embrace. When the other man didn't fight it, Jim knew the campaign that was wagging in John's heart. Cupping his buddies back the father pulled back and ran a hand over his face, his could feel the wetness on his cheek. Absently he ran a finger down the scar on his right cheek. Years later he would leave a similar one under Dean's eye.

With a dolorous heart he queried the situation. "So what were my mini Marine's doing?" Jim laughed, "trying to impress you. Your homemaker was helping me clean and put the cellar into proper order yesterday. We came across an old box that had the balloons in it." As the former Chaplin was explaining he picked a piece of canary yellow rubber off his friends gray thermal shirt. John attempted to smile at the action.

"Anyhow Dean asked if they could use these handy little inventions as practice grenades. Apparently you were going to show them the fine art of aiming and tossing at the target. Your mini Marine's wanted to impress you and show you that they at least had good aim and such." The father shook his head, 'balloons as grenades.' Both older men looked over at the boys.

Dean had taken down the target and handed it to Sam. His small shaking hands placed it in the carrier his eyes wide staring at his older wiser brother, then before his sibling could do anything else, the five year old launched himself into his bestest brother's arms. After squeezing the moppet tight Dean placed a reassuring kiss to the top of his head.

Neither military man could move their gaze. They watched as the youngsters walked the basket back to the cellar. The men continued to observe the boys go into the dark room and leave the basket. Which Jim knew the older one put back on the shelf marked party supplies. When the brothers came out of the door the little one's hand was tight in big ones. They sat on the bottom step. Sam rested his head into Dean's consoling embrace.

The father knew the older one figured a punishment was eminent. He wasn't going to run and hide. No, he was going to face it head on. Just like John taught him. 'Stand your ground, never run, that spells fear, never show fear.' "You know what that boy is thinking, don't you?" Jim questioned the Dad of the two sad looking children on the stairs. John ran an unsteady hand through his hair. "Yeah he is thinking I am going to paddle his behind but good."

The churchman shook his head. "You promised Mary and yourself you would never turn into your father. Change their perspective now. Because as it stands that boy thinks you are going to beat him because you stood in the middle of a tactical exercise after they had already checked the perimeter." John raised an eye.

"I had been watching the whole thing. They knew they weren't allowed to be outside alone, especially with what they were doing. I just went in to get them warm drinks. It is only…" The man checked his watch, "twenty after five in the morning. Didn't want them to catch pneumonia in their pursuit to make you proud."

The heartbroken father looked at his friend and then over to his boys, his wonderful boys. The older one had a tight arm around the younger one and was speaking softly into Sam's ear. No doubt telling him how he would take the fall. He was the eldest, it was his idea Sam was just following his lead.

John told Dean if you are the leader you take responsibilities for the actions of your team. The nine year old knew how bad a spanking from his Dad was he wanted to save his little brother from the discomfort. Oh John might have swatted the kid, but full on paddle him, no. The father could see the wheels turning in the dirty blonds head, 'it was his idea he'd take the impending physical reprimand.'

The thirty two year old went to move. His friend stayed him with a hand on his arm. "You have one chance to fix this. Don't miss use it." The father stared at the cleric he knew the man was right. "Will you sit with Sammy while I talk with Dean?" Jim raised his eyes at the suggestion a trace amount of apprehension in his speech. "You don't mean to punish the boy?"

John ran a hand over his weeks worth a beard. "Heavens no, he and I need to speak alone. I don't want Sammy to be scared or misunderstand. As you pointed out Dean needs the reassurance. Please. " Jim looked over at the boy in question his little dirty blond head was resting on his younger brothers. Before his throat could constrict tighter he responded, "Okay Jonathon, I will sit with Samuel."

The vitiated father kept his eyes glued to his sons as he walked towards them. When Dean saw this he stood up. So did Sam. His eldest squared his shoulders and steadied his strong Winchester chin. The tyke was at attention right next to his brother. As the father got closer his little one slipped a reassuring hand in his siblings. All though bolstering for whom was anyone's guess.

Dean held Sam's tight, but never took his eyes off his father. 'Never take your eyes off your opponent.' When John stood in front of them he could see his cargo pants clad nine year olds face was blank, a mask of nothing. 'Why oh why did he have to teach him a poker face?' The man thought to himself.

Sam on the other hand was worried. The brown haired little one tried to hide it and not show the enemy his colors. But his concern for Dean and what his father was going to do to his bestest brother outweighed attempting to be the tough guy.

"Sir." The taller of his two soldiers's started to get out. Without meaning to sound menacing the former gunny said "tacet." When he did he saw momentary panic and terror blaze through the hazel eyes, her eyes. Dean knew when his father used Latin he meant business. He followed the order and remained silent.

John heard Jim come up behind him. The trying to do the right thing in the only way he knew how Dad could almost hear the Pastor's thoughts. "Please be kind to him Jonathon." 'Start as you mean to go on.' His friend stepped next to him, "Samuel why don't you come with me?"

The five year olds brown green eyes looked from his Dad's stern face to Jim's understanding one. Then came a reaction no one expected, "No Jim, I am going to stay with Dean. We are in this together." Three heads turned to look at Samuel John Winchester. John was the first to react. "Samuel you will go with Jim. That is an order."

His youngest bit his bottom lip but would not be dissuaded. He looked John dead in the eye, his stare unwavering. In that moment the man knew this was the boy he would have the most battles with. He closed his eyes and tried not to notice the swallow his older son gave.

"Sammy it will be okay. I will be okay. Remember what I said." The resignation of a long walk to the gallows was unmistakable in the nine year olds voice. "Please, you go with Jim. He will take good care of you." Dean looked at his parent as if to implore him to not to hurt his brother.

The little one proudly clad in Dean's shirt hugged his sibling and whispered, "But Dad's gonna take care of you and you told me together we can get through anything." Before the John lost his nerve he snapped. "Don't make me tell you twice Samuel." Brown green eyes bore into him, the man knew the midgets acquiesce had more to do with the Dean's words than his fathers implied threat. "Yes sir."

Jim held his hand to Sam the young boy took it and slowly climbed the stairs. When he reached the landing the cool brother extraordinaire gave his bestest brother in the world a look, no auditory volume was needed to convey the message. 'Together we can get through anything.' Silent brother communication in action, again. With his hand still in Jim's the moppet gave Dean an encouraging smile and headed inside.

John turned to his eldest who was back to staring straight ahead, unmoving. "Dean, why don't we go for a walk?" It wasn't until he saw the color drain from his strong willed son's face that he realized what the kid was thinking. That his Dad was going to find a place out of Sam's earshot to discipline him.

'Oh Mary, I am so sorry I have failed you and our boys.' Stoically his little solider followed him his face was set. The nine year old figured he broke the rules. His boy was ready to face what ever lay ahead. The Dad walked them over to the rocks near the lake where he and Jim had stood moments earlier.

They were more like boulders big enough you could sit on. The father slowly rested his tired bag of bones on one of the stones. When Dean saw this he moved to bend over his Dad knee. John stopped him with an upturned hand. 'Oh hell, Mary please give me the strength and the words too.'

His son looked him in the eye. Then valiantly put a hand to the button on his pants. The embattled man swallowed at his son's bravado. He put his hand over his boys. "No Dean." Those big hazel eyes looked at him. "It's okay sir. I know I earned my punishment." 'Oh Dean, my courageous little man.'

"Sit with me Imp." John said quietly. His son's intrepid face faltered at the use of their special name. "Sir?" The kid didn't understand. "Dean there won't be any punishment. I am not going to spank you. Please son you can call me Dad." The boy bit his lip. "Oh."

John didn't get this reaction he thought that would make Dean relax. Instead it made his mini me even tense. "Son?" He questioned. "Sir." John sighed, "You say sir one more time and I will revise the not going to paddle your bum statement." That only served to make Dean bit his lip harder. He really didn't know what to do John could see that.

"Boy what is wrong? Do you want me to turn you over my knee?" The worried father tried to determine what was wrong with his son. 'Fuck,' he was no good at this stuff, not for the first time that morning did he wish Mary were with him. Course if she were, his boys would be learning to toss footballs not grenades. 'Oh hell.'

His little one just looked at him, saying nothing. Gently but firmly he grabbed his son's arms. "Dean, please talk to me." His son flinched when his Dad's hands connected with his bare skin. "Yes sir, I want you to smack me."

John didn't know how to respond to that. Reluctantly he turned his son around and swatted his behind. No real force just enough it would sting. The father hoped it would knock some sense into his boy. Dean started to cry the Dad couldn't comprehend where this was coming from. He knew it wasn't from the swat kid had hit himself harder falling off a tree branch. "No sir, hit me. Harder."

John grabbed his boy who was sobbing in earnest now. He pulled him into a tight embrace, praying to the Angels above he was doing the right thing. "Dean, please its okay." His little one was crying so hard his body was shuttering. The father just held his boy tighter yet, rubbing circles on his back hoping they would have a calming effect.

After a few minutes his normally even keeled progeny stopped the racking sobs and wound down to hiccupping tears. John persevered with the circular motions. Eventually the nine year old just went limp in his arms, his hazel eyes glassy and framed with red rims.

"Dean please talk to me. I promise whatever you say I won't get mad." His kid the one who was never at a loss for something to say remained mute. John though of all the times he wished for a mute Dean. This was not one of them.

The unsettled man felt tears sting his eyes. One of them had the audacity to leak from his eye down through his beard off his chin and land on his son's hand. Those red rimmed hazel eyes looked at him. The disheartened father could see the absolute desolate sadness in them.

Then his little rabble rouser, learning to toss a grenade, but still his baby hugged him just like he had Dean moments earlier. "Please Dad, it's okay." The Dad came out rushed and tentative as if he wasn't sure if he should say it. His small hand rubbed circles on his father's big back. For quite some time the two Winchesters stayed like that.

When John thought he could formulate sentences he said in a very calm manner. "Imp?" Dirty blond hair bobbed in front of him and without looking up Dean said, "I am sorry we struck you in the face with the balloon Dad. We did like you showed us with hunting. 'When planning a tactical exercise make sure you check your perimeter for variables.'" John smiled at hearing his instructions repeated back to him.

"I should have realized what was a foot. Some Recon Marine I was." The father joked with his son hoping to elicit a smile. "Still it doesn't excuse hitting you." Dean replied quietly no upturned lips in sight. The poor child was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, on his backside. "In this case it does. You did everything right, I made the mistake."

The dirty blond head bobbed again this time his boy's eyes gazed up at him. John seized the moment. "Do you want to tell me why you wanted me to spank you?" The head went down and from somewhere near his almost dry shoulder region he heard a voice ask. "Do I have to?" The Dad pondered that, it wasn't like Dean to escape and evade. Of course the last hour was abnormal for his son.

"Yes Dean you do." The little one looked at him and asked him in a very somber tone, "couldn't I just take the whipping?" John raised an eye, "no. Dean why would you want me to hit you?" His child's answer brought him to his preverbal knees. "Because then you would love me again." Swallowing the lump that had lodged firmly in his throat the father continued on his quest.

"You think I don't love you?" His son's completely serious face looked at him. Dean serious was eerie, the kid ways always the life of a situation. The tyke learned early on if everyone laughed, then they relaxed, if they relaxed they could be happy.

The small warrior took a deep breath and went for broke, "You were mad. I thought if you were mad enough than you would decide it wasn't worth it like you told Jim. Then where would we be?" Before John could interrupt his the engine that could rolled on.

"You told me if you gave my backside a talking too it was only because you cared. You didn't want too. It meant it wasn't worth the effort. Meaning I wasn't worth it anymore." Dean sighed and took another bolstering breath, "I know you told me I take care of the family good. But I don't know if I could take care of me and Sammy by myself…"

It was the father's turn to bite his lip. 'Oh Angels above.' He pulled his son into a hug resting his chin on the kid's head. Then much like Dean had earlier with Sam the Dad placed a reassuring kiss to the place where his chin had been. "Dean, scoot up on my knee." Hazel eyes looked up at him questioningly. "Up not over." The little one eased his way up. John put an arm around him.

"Son, you have cleaned my back enough. Do you remember the white marks?" He could tell his progeny didn't know where this was going. But figured his Dad might still love him so he would go with it. "Yes," came the small reply. "Your grandfather left those marks, with a belt." His child looked at him thoughtfully. "You hit my bum with your belt and you didn't leave any lines." John swallowed, thinking about that night still hurt. "No I didn't. It all has to do with force and aim."

Dean pondered what his father said. "You had good aim Dad, and it hurt bad. I could feel the force." For everything his boy was still only nine. The father chuckled at the statement despite the utmost sincerity with which it was said. It hurt because he had spanked the daylights out of him. Anything harder than a hand would have hurt, but force John connected only hard enough so that Dean would feel something and know he got the punishment promised.

"Yes I had good aim and I know it hurt. That was the point. But the reason you punish someone is because they broke a rule, a rule that was in place to protect them. If you break a rule and nothing happens you do it again. Have you broken that rule again?" Cargo pants rustled against John's blue jeans, Dean answered the question while looking at his Dad's hand the same that had spanked him. "No."

Taking a deep breath John continued, "And you know the rules, I explained them to you, along with what would happen if you broke the rules?" Still not moving his gaze Dean replied, "Yes sir. When I am on a job and tell you can't come with me. I mean no. If I find you there I will paddle your bum so hard you won't sit for a week. You will feel the leather from my belt on your backside. Dean do you understand what I have told you?" The father smiled at his child's impression of him. "Not a bad reenactment son." The reenactor smiled a little at that.

"Your grandfather wasn't as straight forward about the rules and punishments. He would make them up as he went along. When that happens a punishment goes from a reprimand to violence. To him the only way to have a relationship with his son was through violence. The lines on my back are because he swung wild and mean." Dean tilted his head down, "you were only mean once." John closed his dark eyes at the memory of the barn. "And that was cause I scared you. You told me everyone makes mistakes."

The abused son talked on with his own boy. "Yes you did scare me and it was a mistake to smack you like that. It was a reaction to seeing my still eight year old almost beheaded. My father was mean all the time. He thought it would make a better man out of me."

The nine year old tilted his head but still avoided eye contact, "you tell me all the time I am a good little man. And you almost never spank me, only when I have broken the really big rules. Why didn't he have rules like that?" John shook his head sadly "I don't know Dean." The father touched his son's chin, "Look at me." Worried hazel eyes looked at him.

"Dean when I bellowed earlier it was because I was startled by what you did and my first reaction was to yell. When I saw your face it reminded me of me when I was your age. I walked away not because I didn't love you, but because I did." John could see his small solider was trying to understand.

"Do you remember when we had to stitch Sammy's knee and you told me your heart hurt watching it?" The older brother nodded and said, "Yeah I do, I couldn't take away the pain." The thirty two year old left his hand on Dean's chin to keep the little ones eyes on him, "exactly how I felt. I couldn't take away your pain and my heart hurt."

The man ran his hand through his dark brown hair the let it rest in his lap. "When I saw the look on your face, I thought you wouldn't love me anymore." Dean slipped his little hand in his fathers much bigger one. "It's okay Dad. I love you." One simple phrase, it was balm to his heart. The hunter hugged his son tight.

"Now Dean when did you hear me say to Jim you wouldn't be worth it? Think carefully before you answer son both lying to me and intentionally ease dropping are on your list of rules not to break, the big ones." The father felt his son shift. Big ones meant he was going from sitting on his Dad's knee to laying over it. John stilled him with a gentle hand to the thigh.

"I wasn't ease dropping, well as least I didn't mean it. You told us if we were going to sit up and play Candy Land we could have some of Jim's warm milk." The Dad smiled, Jim always kept chocolate milk in the house. "So I was heating the milk and I heard Jim yell at you and you yell back." The father watched his son's lip quiver. 'What did I say?'

Dean rushed on so as to get it out and over with. "Sometimes I don't even think they are worth it anymore. Sammy and especially Dean." John's smile crashed. The crestfallen father chose his next words very carefully. "Do you know why there was a rule against not listening to conversations?"

He could just imagine the hell his boy had been it, hearing those words ring in his head. Dean's lip rolled between his teeth. His little body shifted, he was prepared for whatever lay ahead. Even if it meant a punishment because his Dad decided he did break a rule after all. At least his father cared about him enough to decide that. Again the parent stayed his son with a gentle hand. "Which you didn't break, I did yell."

The little body went slack, the head went down he nodded no. "Because you might hear something and not understand it and then feel bad. Like you do now." Dean squeezed his Dad's hand so hard John thought he might cut off the blood flow. Then he questioned him didn't even try to hide the dread that the answer might be no, "then you do love us and we are worth it?" John squeezed his son's hand tight, "I will always love you Dean. You will always be worth it, both you and Sammy."

His son sighed so deep the man understood the weight the boy had been carrying. "Now what I said in full context to Jim was. Sometimes I don't even think they are worth it anymore. Sammy and especially Dean need a home, not just places to live. But what if I stop and they win? I could loose both my beautiful boys and then where would I be?"

The heartbroken father stopped and moved Dean's face so that they were eye to eye. "They are worth it anymore was referring to demons and such. Not you and your brother, never you and your brother. Dean you two mean the world to me. What I do, I do to protect. Maybe it doesn't always make sense and maybe it isn't always the best thing to do. But I do it because I love you. You boys are my life." The Dad watched his little one process the information.

When he was certain everything sunk in he went on. "Dean I want you to make me a promise." Without blinking his son replied, "Yes Dad." John smiled at his son his suffering but unshrinking mini warrior, "Promise me that you will never be afraid to come and talk to me. If you see or hear something that doesn't make sense you come talk to me. Don't hold it in. Jim and I had that conversation over a week ago. Have you been wrestling with that this entire time?" The father could see the son didn't want to lie to him but really wasn't keen on answering.

"Dean Christopher?" He hoped the use of both names would give him a push with out scaring him, there had been enough of that. "Yes." John mulled this over. "That is why you went into overdrive with the cleaning, cooking and washing?"

His son's face contorted but he didn't cower. "Yes. I figured if you didn't have to do anything but just hunt and tuck us in. Then we would have you and you wouldn't have to worry if we were worth it. Cause tucking his in, how hard is that?" The father rested his chin back on Dean's head. "Oh Imp. Promise me you will come talk to me." Dean reached for his Dad's free hand. "I promise."

June 3, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

The recovering hunter looked up from his box to his Angel. She had tears running down her cheeks. It wasn't until he felt her soft fingers brush his away that he realized so did he. "My Dad made me the same promise to always talk to me and not hold it in. As the years went on the talking became less him reassuring and more me asking why. But he never broke that promise until he did this."

The statement was very telling to all the strong young man had done for his family. He carried the weight of their world on his shoulders. His father had told him things that no one should have to know, not even John. And yet Mary could tell Dean wasn't angry just resigned. The Winchesters weren't just strong men they were indomitable soldiers. Indomitable soldiers with big huge hearts. Big huge hearts they kept hidden and locked away.

"Maybe it was as you said before. Maybe he forgot and did the process in reverse." He raised an eye at her words, "Oh Kansas. He sucks, what else can I say?" The man on the bed laughed, "Oh sweetheart you so not going to get any argument from me." She laughed at the intentional reiteration of her words.

The twenty six year old reached in to the box to see if there were anything in there that would inspire a happy memory. At the bottom of the cottonwood chest was a menu written in crayon. The top said Amos and Craven's Sloop Shoppe. Underneath was the proclamation 'special meatball recipe guaranteed to make your mouth water,' below the bold statement there was a list of meals to choose from. Complete with little boxes next to each selection. The bottom of the menu said please return by 5:00pm tonite.

His Angel laughed, "Amos and Craven Sloop Shoppe." Dean chuckled, "Give me a break we were still just five and nine. It was only a few days after the balloon… I wanted to do something special for my Dad's Birthday. After our big talk I thought about it. It occurred to me that my Dad really thought we might not love him. He needed to know we did. At five and nine this is what we came up with."

The brown eyed girl touched her charges hand. "You are a really good man Dean Christopher I am honored to know you." He smiled, "Thank you Mary…" the man let the sentence hang. She smiled "Mary Grainne." Dean raised a questioning eye. "It is Gaelic for Grace." Reaching over to touch her face the wounded warrior said, "Thank you Mary Grainne, you are a really good woman, I am honored to know you."

August 28, 1989Blue Earth, Minnesota

John Winchester ran a shaking hand over his beard, which was reaching ten days growth. For some reason he felt more comfortable with one than without. Probably because he felt it hide him. Old habits die hard. The sweating man sat up in bed.

The nightmare had been horrible. Dean was sitting on the boulder crying alone. No matter how hard John tried to reach him he kept encountering this invisible wall. His little man would turn and look at him. "Dad, why don't you love me?" When John's heart rate came back to normal he realized it was he who worried that Dean didn't love him.

With a heavy heart he swung his legs off the bed. The man was headed to the bathroom when he noticed something on the floor. Years of training and caution kicked in. Instantly he went into hunter mode. He slowly crouched down to grab the item, eyes on the door just in case. When his calloused fingers came in contact with the object he realized it was piece of paper. Not just any piece of paper, a piece of soft construction paper.

John knelt down on his knees as his dark eyes scanned the pumpkin orange paper. Amos and Craven's Sloop Shoppe was written in Dean's handwriting. Under that was a menu selection complete with boxes. In Sammy's handwriting it said please return by 5:00pm tonite. John felt his heart start to palpitate. "What are you boy's up to?" The words were directed at the door. Not surprisingly he didn't receive a response. Shaking his head he stood up and with the 'Sloop Shoppe' menu in his hand exited the room.

About fifteen minutes later a newly showered and changed John Winchester joined his pal Jim Murphy in the kitchen for a cup of joe. When the former Marine reached the doorframe his friend held up a mug. John nodded. The brown sweater wearing man pulled one out of the cupboard and filled it. Turning around he set the cups down on the table.

Each man pulled a yellow chair out and sat down. They both took long sips of their beverages. Deep sighs followed the action. "Something to be said for a good cup of coffee in the morning," Jim mused. John laughed, "Something indeed."

After the wake me up sip the soon to be birthday Dad looked at his friend and pulled something from his pocket. When he placed the orange paper on the yellow table Jim smiled. The father tapped the menu. "Did you know about this?" The coffee pourer looked at his friend, really studied his face. The constant battle with grief and other worldly things had aged him. John looked much older than his about to be thirty three years.

"Yes. The boys asked me if I would take them to the store tonight." As an after thought he added, "and keep you out of the kitchen tomorrow." John had a good hearty laugh at the request and said "because I spend so much time in here regularly?" The house owner grinned. "Can't keep you out of the place." He took another swig of the dark roast and went on.

"The boys wanted to do something special for your birthday. I think Samuel's exact words were 'Dad needs to know his is really special. So we have to do something special for his special day.'" They older men laughed at a classic Sam explanation. Sensing his friend wasn't ready to acknowledge the sentiment, at least not yet the former Chaplin continued.

"You know Jonathon I talked with Dean for a long time last night." The father raised his eyes to his buddies face. Not sure whether he could speak without his voice breaking John inclined his head urging Jim to continue. "He told me you needed to know you were loved." The dark hair man hung his head without bringing it up he asked, "What else did he say?"

The pastor took a mind full sip of his coffee. "I told him I kept an eye on you two just make sure all was well. When I saw you grab him and swat his backside I had a foot out the door." The dad took a drink of his dark roasted beverage relishing the fact it was still hot enough to burn a path down his throat.

"He said it's okay Jim, I told him too. Besides he didn't hit me all the hard. Not like before then I couldn't sit without it hurting." John ran a hand over his face. 'Maybe he…' the thought trailed off as the Padre continued. "Dean said he didn't know what to do and that scared him. Cause he could always figure out what to do. But he thought you didn't think they were worth it anymore. Apparently he heard our heated discussion."

The still thirty two year old spoke up. "Angels above Jim, how could he think I didn't think they were worth it? I love them more than life itself." The Pastor sighed he loved his friend, but the man could be as thick headed as a barn door. "Because Jonathon they are little boys, even Dean who is wise beyond his years and you are a gruff man. If I had been Dean and heard that, can't say that I would have felt differently."

The father countered, "It's not like him to sit on something." The man of the Lord looked up to the heavens for the strength to say the right words. "He thought you didn't love him anymore. Those words especially Dean kept playing over and over in his head. He didn't know what he did wrong. Normally he can fix a situation and make everyone happy. In this case it was him who was hurt. You're his Dad and his hero. His little heart was breaking."

"Oh Jim it was hard watching his face drain of color when we walked over to the water. It was all I could do not to throw up." The man took another swig of his coffee hoping it would quell the ache in his stomach. "He thought I was going to spank him and when I didn't he froze. The look in his eyes Jim, I wanted to collapse right then and there. He kept calling me sir, when I told him to call me Dad he actually bit his lip to keep from crying." The cleric reached over and put a hand on his best friends.

"Jonathon, I know how much your heart hurt." The man with the still aching heart ran both hands through his hair. He brought them to rest on his face a second before continuing. "I didn't know what to do. I asked him if he wanted me to spank him. I was at a loss when he said yes. It was the desperate longing in his voice. How could I have reduced that brave little man to almost begging me to beat him?"

Jim nodded in understanding, "that's why you swatted him?" John nodded. "It wasn't hard, just enough to hopefully knock sense into him or at least compel him to talk. Then he just started crying, full on big tears, kept saying no sir, hit me harder." The father stopped. He ran another hand over his face.

"I just held him. He was sobbing. Never in his whole has he cried like that. Not even when I did tan his hide, not when Mary died, never. He cried when I took him to visit the stone. He didn't understand why Mary wasn't there. But still he was consolable. This it was, oh hell, I thought I had lost him." Jim took a deep breath, "You didn't lose him. He lost him and wanted you to find him."

John wasn't sure he grasped what his friend was trying to tell him, but wanted, no needed to know if he had really mended the situation with his son. If he talked it out then maybe everyone would be able to feel better. There wasn't very much Jim didn't know about him and John knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he could trust the man. "Did he tell you the rest?"

"You mean about telling him if you smacked him it was because you cared and when you didn't he thought you didn't. And that he assumed you didn't love him anymore and he wasn't worth the effort. And he didn't know how he was going to explain it to Samuel how he was responsible for losing your love for them both."

John looked up at that, "I didn't know the last part." The bible man nodded. "Why didn't he tell me that part?" Jim took a page out of his friend's book and ran a calming hand over his face. "I would guess at that point he knew you loved him. That what happened hurt you like it did him and he didn't want to make you feel worse than you already did." He stopped and let the words sink in.

The homeowner sighed and continued, it would further lacerate the father's heart but he needed to hear it. "The poor boy lowered his voice when he told me he made you cry. Actually asked me if that made him a bad son?" The hunter closed his eyes at that. 'Bad son? No father could ask for a better one.'

"How do we heal? All of us?" John prayed his friend would provide him the unnamed something he was in search for. The something that would help the three wayward Winchesters rebuild their fractured lives. Jim laughed, "I would say returning the menu by five and staying out of the kitchen tomorrow would help." John laughed with his friend, "that all?" The retired Chaplin looked at his friend at in all seriousness said, "It's a start."

August 29, 1989Blue Earth, Minnesota

The birthday man woke up about 4:30am. Jim warned him the previous night that the boys had an entire special day planned for their special Dad. The special Dad knew the special day would start early. He could actually hear the boys talking in the kitchen.

"Dean does this look okay?" His youngest asked in a staid little voice. "Looks cool Sammy." Dean replied in a matching somber manner. John couldn't help but smile when Sam then said, "Cool." He sounded just like his brother. Angels help them if he had two sons that said 'cool.'

5:00am on the nose he heard a knock on his door. The apprehensive father played along. "Yes?" He smiled as he heard the bare feet of his children shuffle outside his door. Something about listening to his mini me's seemed so right. Dean's strong voice carrier through the barrier, "Dad, are you awake? Can we come in?" The birthday man took a deep breath and answered, "Yes son I am awake, come in." John was not prepared for what was behind the door. His boys, his wonderful, beautiful boys opened the wooden structure and came in.

The older one of the two had a serving tray and a bag. The younger had balloons, yellow of course and a box, wrapped. It was after all the most important part. Before the father could formulate words into sentences a rockin version of Happy Birthday was sung. Complete with Sammy playing the air guitar. John chuckled there was no doubt in his mind that the little one picked that up from the big though still little one.

"Thank you boys." The still in bed man said. Dean looked at him, dead in his eyes. "Happy Birthday Dad." John looked at his son, "thank you." He understood and in that moment he really did. They were in this together.

"Okay Dad, you can't move yet." Sammy had his nose scrunched as he expertly tied the balloons to the footboard of the bed. When the five year old had completed his task he looked back at his father. "Now you can move." The newly thirty three year old nodded at his youngest. "Thank you Sammy."

Dean placed the food tray on his fathers lap. "Breakfast in bed is served." John was taken back by the meal. He looked at his domestic, the soul of the Winchester family with heavy emotion swirling in his dark eyes. The nine year olds smile stumbled at the raw feelings raging forth from his fathers face. What if he made a bad decision in doing this for his Dad? The dirty blond took a deep breath and told his father where he came up with the idea. "I remember mom would say, "Breakfast in bed should be fit for a king."

The widowed husband felt the lump in his throat. He missed his wife. They always had desert before breakfast. Sammy had been a result of desert before breakfast. John closed his dark soulful eyes hoping to clear the memory of his wife crying out in his arms. His son needed this he could see the worry in his hazel eyes. He swallowed the cement block the had suddenly taken up residence in his throat he replied, "that she did."

Sensing all was okay with his father the nine year old said, "Eat up Dad, daylights coming." John cocked an eyebrow at his eldest use of a phrase that he himself used all the time, 'eat up boys, daylights coming.' Dean laughed knowing his Dad wasn't mad. "We are on a schedule you know." The father chuckled at the use of another one of his stock idioms.

"What about you boys? Are you going to eat?" Sam's brown green eyes looked at him and in a 'what are thinking' voice said, "Dad servants don't eat with the king." The king eyed his two sons, "today they do. Grab your grub and come sit with me."

A few minutes later all three Winchester men were sitting on the bed enjoying their early morning meal. John engaged his son's in conversation hoping to do a little recon and if he was honest with himself enjoy a normal family moment. He looked down at their feet all three Winchester boys shuffled them back and forth the same way. He grinned and asked "How did you make the toast in a crown?" Dean looked at him with a slightly duh expression, "cookie cutter."

The father smiled, "and the honey on the oatmeal?" His son laughed, "Dad weren't you the man who told me never reveal the tricks of your trade to an outsider?" John faltered a little at the question. "You think I am an outsider?" His pragmatic nine year old looked at him, "exactly how much time do you spend in the kitchen?" The father chuckled, no he was not known for his culinary skills "point made."

"So Sammy, what's in the box?" John questioned his little one who quietly chewing on a piece of toast. "All is good time Dad." The former Marine was starting to wish he didn't have coin phrases that he used. Hearing them said back to him was starting to give him a glimpse into the world his children lived in.

"Right, all in good time. Did you help with breakfast?" Unruly hair bounced here and there when his moppet shook his head yes. "Yes Dad. Cut the fruit and brewed the coffee." The father could not help but smile at the way his five year old said brewed the coffee. Here was an oil swill drinker in the making.

When all the food had been consumed, Dean the domestic cleared the repast away. He returned from the kitchen and silently stood in the doorway. The middleman in the trifecta watched his Dad and brother in an embrace.

The dirty blond heard his cool brother extraordinaire say to his Dad. "If you get to worry about us, we get to worry about you." His Dad ruffled the toe head's hair. "Okay Sammy, okay." The chef walked into the room quietly. "What do you say Sammy that we give Dad his presents?"

John looked at his boys, one to the other and back. Their grins were making him nervous. He wasn't used to displays of affection especially open ones like this. He gave them enough allowance that they could afford presents plural? Hum, he was going to have to look into this.

His little introspector looked at him brown green eyes kind and understanding. Too understanding at five. Sammy's fingers pulled on his Dad's white undershirt. John leaned down. His son's hand cupped his ear. "Sokay Dad, we think you are cool too." The father felt tears sting his eyes at the simple statement. The father lifted his arm and pulled his little one into a hug. "Thanks Sammy."

"What one do I open first?" The Centropolis Native asked the room. "The bag." Was the in unison answer. With what he hoped was a steady hand he opened the bag. When the contents came into view he looked up at his boys.

The midget had moved in front of his brother. The Dad figured his son's wanted to see his reaction. Dean was sitting behind Sam, who was leaning into his brother's chest. John pulled the shirt out it was a gray Henley with red writing, 'World's Greatest Dad.' His eyes welled.

Sam put a hand on his Dad's shaking one, "Its okay to cry Dad." A tear rolled down his check, "he said it to Sam all the time, "its okay to cry." All three Winchester's laughed at the five year olds sincere statement, not that it was funny just that they wanted to relieve the tension.

Dean nodded at the box. John took his time opening the present. 'World's Greatest Dad,' didn't he wish. 'This is for your boys, smile.' What he should have realized then, was it was for him too. The box finally open he looked at the item nestled into padding. A helmet? A Marine Corps issue combat helmet.

Images flashed through his head. Augustus Mathews covered in his blood. The screams, oh fuck. Would he never get that night out of his head? John closed his eyes at the memories of the yells, the body parts strewn about, the blood, 'oh hell the blood.'

When he opened them, two little faces were looking at him in tormented agony clear as day. "It's okay boys Dad was just thinking about his time with force recon." John prayed his voice was level he did not want his son's alarmed any more than they already looked.

It was Sam who spoke up, "we didn't mean to make you feel bads." The father swallowed, "you didn't make me feel bads munchkins. Goods actually." They all heaved sighs of relief. "Okay boys I give, why a helmet?"

His sons laughed. 'Uh oh,' that look in Dean's hazel eye's gave him pause. Again Sam was the one to answer. "Read the note Dad." 'The note? There was a note? Of course there was.' John reached a scared hand into the brown carton, under the helmet was, a note. He opened the folded piece of paper. The First Annual Winchester Boot Camp Day written in Jim's fancy scroll stared at him.

The former Marine flashed back to San Diego, California he was standing on the famed yellow footprints looking at the yellow buildings. He remembered the other boys being frightened at the yelling, he was accustomed to his father. With the drill instructors he new he was getting paid to listen.

When they had been required to strip down and change out of their civilian clothes a drill sergeant had scene his scars. After that he wasn't yelled at, not in the same way at least. The young recruit figured the guy's old man must have beat him too. "Dad?" Two little voices pulled him out of his reverie.

"Sorry boys. First Annual Winchester Boot Camp Day?" Dean's eyes were worried. John could see it. He knew something was wrong with his Dad. So did Sam, he placed a hand on his fathers like his brother would do with his. "It's okay boys really. You didn't make me feel bads. I was just thinking about his first day at boot camp for the Marine Corps." His son's visibly relaxed.

"So what will the Winchester boot camp consist off?" "All in good time." Was the tandem reply complete with twinkling eyes. Then the older of his two children said, "After you have shaved and showered. Could change into your shirt and helmet? Then meet us on the back porch please." The heavyhearted father nodded, "okay boys."

The parent watched as his two sons walked out of the room. They were leaned into each other talking quietly. As he was making the bed he heard a sound at the door. He turned around, his friend Jim was leaning into the door jam. "Good Morning Jonathon. Happy Birthday." John eyed the pastor's lazy attitude with gritted teeth. "Morning James." Jim raised his eye at the use of his full name.

"Do you know what the boys have in store for me?" The former Chaplin laughed, "yes I do. The only thing I will tell you, is they didn't do it alone, they talked to me and we set it up." The birthday man didn't miss the emphasis on the word 'we.' "Dean knew if they did it alone it would be breaking one of the big rules." The father swallowed, 'big rules oh hell.'

Would his son never trust that he wasn't going to get beat every time John yelled? Hadn't he done better than that, he almost never spanked the boy. "Okay, you helped them. Got it." Jim Murphy looked at his best friend, "they tried so hard Jonathon, just go with it." John closed his eyes at the pleading in the other man's voice. He understood they all needed that unnamed something.

"Off to the head." The 'World's Greatest Dad' said as he walked out of the door and down the hall. Once John was in the safety of the water closet he rested his hands on the door. He didn't mean to but he heard his little ones ask Jim, "You didn't tell him anything did you?" The older man replied, "Heaven's no boys, your Dad deserves a good surprise." All three men in the hall laughed. 'Oh Mary, give me the strength.'

A short time later former Gunnery Sergeant Winchester stepped out onto the back veranda. He was dressed in his green camouflage pants still with the Winchester nametape across his bum. The long since left the Corps newly thirty three year old couldn't believe they still fit. Tucked into the pants was his 'Worlds Greatest Dad' shirt.

Under his arm was the helmet. A helmet of the likes he hoped never to see again. But for his son's he would make the sacrifice. Jim was sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs on the porch, nursing a mug of coffee. He raised the cup to John then nodded for him to look down the steps.

The Dad let out a whistle. The Murphy land had been transformed into an obstacle course, a big one. 'They had done all this last night?' The 'World Greatest Dad' made his way down the stairs. He looked back up at Jim who took a swig of his beverage. "Good luck Gunny." John laughed.

'Gunny,' it had been a long time since he was Gunny Winchester. 'Oh hell.' The man of the cloth said, "not hell, defiantly the road to heaven." The father snapped his head back to his friend. "It is true Jonathon you thought it so loud I heard it." Still chuckling the man gazed at his son's who were at what looked to be the starting point.

John heard his friend put his mug down and amble down the steps. As they headed over to the youngsters Jim chuckled at his friends barley contained nerves. The Pastor knew his friend didn't think he was worth any of this. Poor man he was worth all this and more.

"Why are you following me?" The birthday man asked with the slight hint of hostility in his voice. "Because Samuel and Dean made me promise that I would be with them. They wanted you understand they didn't touch your rifle without adult supervision." The former rifleman stopped and looked at the Padre.

"I believe your eldest told me it was one of the big rules. Really, really, really big leather wielding rules Jim." Before he could check himself John flinched. He stopped and looked at Jim. He tried to talk but the words wouldn't come out. "The three of you will make it through this. Just love them. That's all they need. That's all you need." The father nodded his heart felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds.

The former military men arrived at the staging area. John spied his little Sammy with one of his USMC ball caps on. The father in him couldn't help but smile at the way it kept sliding down his son's unruly hair. The Marine in him stood at attention and yelled. "Gunnery Sergeant Jonathon Dean Winchester reporting as ordered sirs."

His son's smiled but to their credit didn't giggle. Instead his oldest bellowed back, "at easy Gunny Winchester." Jim cracked a grin at his friends face. He could tell John was fighting the urge to howl with laughter, really fighting. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing if he did. The now thirty three year old needed more humor in his life.

Sam walked up to his Dad. "Gunny Winchester, here are your orders." The father looked down at his no nonsense midget commanding officer. "Yes sir." The serious expression slipped a little, he could tell his five year old wanted to smile. That only served to make John want to laugh even more.

He bit his lip at the urge and took the 'orders.' Which when he looked at them were in fact a real set of United States Marine Corps orders. John raised an eye to Jim who innocently opened his hands in a 'what' gesture. As the Gunny scanned the document he saw that it was the Pastor who filled it out.

When he finished digesting the information he handed the document back to his mini Marine. "Do you understand your mission devil dog?" Sam questioned him again with an authoritative edge to his voice, one no doubt learned from John himself. "Yes sir."

The unnaturally quite dirty blond finally spoke up, "Semper Fi, Marine." John turned to his other mini Marine. Who apparently for this day was the executive officer. The older one let the younger one take the lead. John smiled internally, no one could ask for better family than Dean. "Semper Fi, Sir." His eldest dead panned a look that would have impressed a real drill instructor.

For the next several hours the newly thirty three year old humped like a boot. His boys and former best friend set up a course that was both reflective of the Corps and their current 'ghost hunting' lifestyle. There were logs to jump over and apparitions to shoot. It was at the tire part John decided Jim was no longer his friend. His legs were burning, his back aching, and his heart ready to burst. Although he had to admit the latter was more likely due to the fact he was so damn proud of his son's.

At the end of a very long, arduous, exhausting day John finished all the tasks detailed on his orders. He stood at attention in front of his wonderful boy's. "Gunnery Sergeant Jonathon Dean Winchester reporting as ordered sirs. Mission Complete." His voice relayed the fact he was tired as all hell. "Well done Gunny. You finished the course well under the projected time. Nice shooting there by the way." His nine year old complimented him.

John fought to keep the smile off his face. "Thank you sirs." "Gunny hit the hose and then report to the kitchen for chow." His five year old informed him. "Yes sirs, thank you sirs." Dean smiled big when he said, "Dismissed." So did the Gunny when he broke off in a run towards a much needed shower. He let the hot water work into his neck.

His sons did at this for him. They wanted him to know how much they learned. Everything on the hellish course was thing's he had told them about or had them do. At the time he questioned himself, he had no idea if was doing a good thing or not. He was a single Dad. John did the best with what he had. They wanted him to know they knew and he was their hero. The dark haired father was truly humbled at the sentiment.

A changed and clean TAD Gunny Winchester reported to the kitchen for chow. When he did his throat constricted. There was a big crayon made sign hanging from the not moving at the moment fan. 'Happy Birthday to the World's Greatest Dad.'

John swallowed the lump when his boys launched themselves full force at him. "Happy Birthday Dad, we love you." The father hugged his son's tight. "I love you boys, I love you too." His kissed the tops of their heads.

Dean was the first to pull out of the embrace. "Okay Dad, have a seat at the place of honor." The thirty three year old looked at the table, the chair in front of the wall had a red pillow on the seat one of his military issue wool blankets lined the back. Smiling at his eldest he replied. "Okay son." The birthday Dad sat down in the place of honor. Sam sat on his lap and talked with him while the domestic fixed the plates.

"You looked so cool out there Dad, five star cool. When you scaled the tree and got all three ghosties in under thirty seconds, wow." John ruffled his son' s hair smiling at the pure happiness in his youngest one's face. "Thank you Sammy, I have to say I felt a little out of practice." His former best friend laughed at that. John raised his eyes over his little ones head and glared imposingly at his used to be pal. Jim just smiled innocently at the father.

His buddy needed this, so did the boys. This one day would do more to heal all their hearts than any amount of lakeside chats. "Dad will you show us how to hang upside down from a tree branch by our legs?" The five year old asked. "Sure Sammy, but will start with a shorter tree." The father smiled at his son. "Cool." 'Cool indeed.'

"Dinner is served." The nine year old cook announced. John's stomach grumbled, eliciting laughs from everyone at the table. "Good thing your hungry Dad, cause Dean cooked a bunch." Sam stated as he climbed off his Dad's lap and up on the chair across from his father.

The waiter smiled as he set the plate down in front of his Dad. Spaghetti and meatballs with corn and green beans never looked so good. John's mouth watered at the site. Jim let Dean used the good corning ware which his son was ever so careful with. The young man placed every ones plate in front of them. Then he turned around grabbed a basket, "fresh bread." He stated to the table in general.

The dirty blonds lips turned up in a small grin as he spun on his heel. Bare feet shuffled towards the fridge where he fidgeted for a while. John cocked an eyebrow at Jim who remained mute save for the knowing smile on his face. When Dean turned back towards the table the father saw an old fashion metal pail with a towel wrapped around it.

"Sir, would you care for a beverage with your dinner?" John grinned at his little maitre d'. Normally sir would have put him in a different frame of mind. With this situation it was Dean using the time honored tradition of levity. 'Who was he to stand in the way?' "Why thank sir, I would love a beverage with dinner." Everyone smiled when Sam giggled. The meal was composed of John's favorite foods and beverages.

The hazel eyed nine year old brought the bucket over to the birthday man. He pulled out an iced cold cream soda bottle, held it against the towel draped over his arm. "Does this meet with your approval?" Again a giggle from Sam, Dean grinned at the giggle but didn't laugh him self. John smiled, he took his time inspecting the bottle, the label, everything. "Yes thank sir." The waiter placed the bucket on the floor, pulled a bottle opener from his pocket and popped the top off. Then he placed it in front of his Dad.

Once his father was taken care of the older brother poured his younger one a glass of milk, then the Pastor a cup of coffee. After that he headed over to the stove. "Son?" The father's deep voice questioned. "Yes Dad." Sam answered. John looked over to his little moppet. The kid's eyes were sparkling. "Dean?" His nine year old turned around. "Yes Dad." The dark haired man pointed to the table. "Aren't you going to join us?" Dean looked at him, "of course Dad, just turning the flames down."

Once everyone was seated, the Winchesters all looked at Jim. "I take it that I am to say grace tonight?" Three heads nodded at his open question. Jim put his hands over the table, three Winchester heads bowed. Benedic, Domine, nos et haec tua dona quae de tua largitate sumus sumpturi per Christum Dominum Nostrum. Amen. Three Winchester Amens, followed. Although Dean's was barley audible. Jim cocked an eyebrow.

Dean attempted to look chagrined. John let the interchange slide. He understood his oldest displeasure with Jim's God. He had told him he had to respect Jim's rules but he did not have let go of his anger until he was ready. The father could not ask of son what he himself could not do.

Dean stood up and queitly helped his brother cut the basgetti as the floppy haired one called it into small pieces. "Thanks Craven." Sam's eyes shone bright with love for his brother. The older one unconciouslly ruffled his siblings hair, "for you Amos anything."

It might have been said in a joking matter, but everone at the table knew the statement to be as true and serious as they come. Dean would do anything for Sam. No one at the table knew then that in the coming years, the older one would sacrafic all for his brother. Had they, John would have stopped hunting then and there.

With the five year old's plate ready eveyone dug in. "My compliments to the chef." John said after he had inhaled the first three bits. "Thank you Dad." Dean said after swallowing a meat ball. "Yummy." Sam said around a piece of noddle. His older brother gave him a look.

The five year old swallowed. "Yummy Dean." The dirty blond smiled at his brother. "Thanks Sammy, but you helped." The pastor spoke up. "That right, you did a good job rolling the meatballs in circles." The father looked from his nine year old to his five year old. The pride in Dean's eye chocked him up.

"You helped Sammy?" John questioned his youngest. "Yes Dad, Dean put the stuff in bowl, showed me how to mixes it and then squeeze it like this," the little ones brown green eyes were twinkling as he showed his Dad with a napkin what he did. "It was fun." The now thirty three year old man looked at his former best friend. "And you?" Brushing a crumb off the table in front of him the former Chaplin replied, "I helped with the bread and the cake."

"A cake? You boys made a cake?" John looked at everyone they had suddenly found chewing very interesting. Finally it was Sam who answered. "Dad what would a birthday be without a cake?" 'What indeed?' The man thought. The father noticed that his eldest has been quiet through out the whole exchange. "Dean?" Hazel eyes, her eyes looked at him. "Yes?" 'What was wrong with the boy?' "Is everything okay? You're not normally so," the father held a hand out, "without something to say."

"Just thinking Dad." His boys eyes were way too serious. "About what?" John hoped the answer was something he could help with. "That I hope you enjoyed your birthday." The Dad turned his head. "Boy's, I can't think of a better birthday." Two sets of eyes looked at him. "Even though I know we will all sleep soundly tonight, it was the best birthday I have ever had." His son's smiled. Dean relaxed and sighed. 'Oh my poor boy.'

"So what kind of cake did you make?" The father queiryed the table in between bites of food. The boys looked from Jim to their Dad and then each other. "A birthday cake." Was his eldest hesitant answer. John eyed Jim as if to 'what is wrong?' The Cleric gave his friend a knowing look. 'Do not get upset. Let it go.' "Got it, a birthday cake." It was Sam who saved everyone from feeling low. "Dad, you told us that surprises on your birthday were a good thing. So let us surprises you." The table laughed.

Dinner had been cleared, the dishes had been washed. Left overs had been stored. Jim and Sam corralled the birthday man into the living room. John eyed the Pastor over his son's head. The house owner just smiled and pointed to an overstuffed chair. The former Gunny took the hint and sat. "Dad, I am glad you had a special day." The father picked his little one up and sat him on his knee. "Me to munchkin, me too."

About five minutes and a thousand questions from his five year old later the Dad turned to see his eldest walk in with a tray. On the wooden plater was a huge cake with candles. "Thiry three," the occupant on his knee answered the silent question. John watched Dean give Sam a signal. The midget popped off his resting place and walked over to his brother.

The waiter placed the cake on the table infront of the Dad. Then the two brothers broke into song. 'It's Johnny's Birthday,' by George Harrison. The older men laughed at the younger one's playing the air drums and guitar. After the cronning was complete 'Johnny' blew out all his candles, at one time. A fact that impressed his littlest one too no end. "Totally cool Dad, to ta lly co ol." Jim laughed saying it had to do with all the hot air running between John's ears. His eldest continued to remain uncharacteristcally quiet.

After the cake reciepiant studied the cake he could see why. It was one of Mary's reciepies, one of her blue card special ones. Oh Dean had made lots of things from her cards but never one of her blue card ones. John figured the kid was worried his Dad might miss his mom and be upset. Then it would be his fault. The father looked at the tyke kindly. "Thank you Dean." The boy looked at Jim, "he helped." Grinding his teeth the man said, "thank you Jim." The Padre was enoying his friends discomfort. "Happy Birthday Jonathon."

The cake was absolutly delecious. The birthday father knew that should his domestic ever want to open a restraunt it would be sold out every night if the confection was on the menu. The nine year old cleared away the plates and the remandier of the cake. "I can help Dean." Sam said in a small voice. "Okay." The older brother handed the younger the plates and the silverware. As they entered the kitchen you could hear Sam ask his bestest brother. "Do you really think he liked his special day?" The door closed on Dean's unheard reply.

"Jim." The former recon man started. "Jonathon, those boys worked so hard, you have no idea." The tired man ran a hand through his dark hair. "I am beginning too. That cake was one of Mary's special blue card recipes." The pastor looked at his friend. "I know, Dean asked me what I thought. He wanted you to know you were special and to include Mary in some way." John closed his eyes, he could still feel her hands on his face. Her lips as she softly kissed his.

"He debated with me about whether this would be breaking a rule or not." The pastor took a breath and with Dean mannerisms repeated what the boy had said. "Techniqley Jim he has given me access to all the cards. I keep the regular ones in my bad. But the blue card one's are still in his black bag and that his private bag. We are not supposed to go into his stuff. What do you think?"

The father looked at the homeowner. "He is in overdrive about the rules." The rules was said with air quotes. "The boy is still paranoid that you might decide he is not worth loving." John ran a hand over his face. "I have told him I loved him and that he will always be worth it. How else do I make him understand?" The birthday man implored the sage man too answer. "Time will come to prove to him that you do. The only thing you can do now is just keep showing him in the little things."

Before the older men could continue their conversation the younger ones rentered the room. Another serving tray with coffee mugs and a carafe was in Dean's hands. A very large bag and much smaller one in Sam's. Jim gave his friend a very knowing look. "Smile and like it, they worked hard. This is the big one."

"Attention to orders Gunery Sergeant Winchester." Jim smiled as the former Gunny popped out of the chair and stood at attention. "Sirs, yes sirs." Out of one eye John watched his youngest ask Jim something. The pastor laughed and nodded. Sam walked over to his Dad's end of the coffe table and Dean give him a hand up as he gently climbed on to it.

"Gunny Winchester, for distinguished and heroic service involving conflict with opposing foreign forces, you are being awarded with the bronze star." The former Marine watched his oldest look at Jim. The man nodded. John was looking straight ahead when his chef pulled the medal out of the bag and pinned it to his chest. The former Marine swallowed, this hand made medal meant more to him than the real bronze star sitting in his footlocker.

"Sirs, thank you sirs." He prayed his voice was even. "Gunny Winchester, for exceptional and distinguished performance of duty contributing to the Winchester/Murphy security and defense at the highest levels, you are being awarded with the Defense Distinguished Service Medal. Again the former Gunny looked straight ahead as Dean pinned another medal on his chest.

"Sirs, thank you sirs." John knew his voice was shaky. He took a moment to look at Jim. The Minnesota man smiled at him. "Gunny Winchester, for extraordinary heroism while engaged in ghost busting operations involving conflicts with evil forces. In the presence of great danger and at great personal risk, your individual performance was considered highly conspicuous. You are being awarded the Navy Cross. The father swallowed as Dean pinned the award on his chest. "Sirs, thank you sirs." Both his son's looked at him.

"Thank you for your services to Jim's God, the whole country, and the Corps." Sam smiled at him. "And to the Winchester and Murphy families. Your sacrifices have been great and while there is noways that this family can ever repay the debt. We hope that these medals convey our gratitude." The moppets brown haired head turned to Jim. The Pastor nodded he had gotten the speech mostly right, noways might not be a word, but hey. "At ease Gunny." His dirty blond said. Again he nine year old was letting the younger one take the lead. Hum.

Dean helped the five year old climb down of the table. The little one then reached down with his shirt and wiped the area where he had been standing. John looked at his boys, his wonderful boys. He opened his arms his sons fell into them. He kissed the tops of their heads, tears stinging his eyes. "Thank you boys, the medals mean the world to me." Dean held his father extra tight. "You mean the world to us." It was in that moment he understood. It was clear as day to him. For Dean it was that simple. 'You mean the world to us.'

John went to take his seat. Sam looked at him he picked the midget up and sat the little one down on his knee. Much like he had done earlier. Hazel eyes followed the action when they were certain everyone was comfortable they looked at the really big bag. "Dad, you have one more present."

The birthday Dad laughed and not for the first time thought what he asked, "Seriously boys how much do I pay you two monkeys for an allowance that you are able to afford all these presents?" His boys laughed. "You are worth it Dad." The man swallowed at the serious sentiment masquerading in the joking manner.

The worth it Dad looked over to his friend. Okay the man was his friend he had helped his boys do all this. Jim smiled big. Dean handed him the gift his eyes big. 'Don't mess this up Johnny boy.' He said to himself as opened the bag. It was blue and green. That was all he could tell. The man reached an unsteady hand into the present holder. He knew both his sons were watching him intently. 'No pressure boys.' When he pulled out the gift he was speechless.

"What do you think Dad? Didn't Dean do a goods job?" An excited Sam asked his father. John didn't know what to say he looked at Dean. He just put the gift over his knee and pulled the boy into an embrace. "Oh Dean, you did a goods job." The father told his son. Everyone giggled, even John. He figured he had let the mask down for the rest of the day, why not now.

Yawns followed the giggles. Staying in the safety and comfort of his Dad's arm the older of the two brothers spoke up. "Jim the kitchen is spotless. We will be up early to put out back to rights." The landowner smiled at the big yawns.

"Not too early. You know you can't do it without my help. And I am afraid I don't have the Winchester resolve of getting up everyday at 4:00 am. How about we meet after cartoons?" Sam and Dean looked at each other then Jim. "Okay Jim." They reached up and hugged their Dad. "Night Dad, we love you."

Holding his boys tight he rested his chin on Dean's head. "Thank you boys, for what has truly been my best birthday. I love you both so much, now go get some sleep." The exhausted siblings slowly pulled out of their Dads arms.

They both walked over to Jim and whispered, "Thank you Jim, we couldn't have done it with out you." The smiling older man pulled the boys into a hug, which they heartily returned. "Anything for your father. Good night boys." Two really tired voices said, "night Jim, we love you." He smiled as he said, "I love you too."

The older men watched as the younger dragged themselves to bed. The quilt that a new Mrs. Winchester had made for her husband to keep him warm all those many years ago while he was in the jungle sat draped across his legs.

The widow husband ran a hand down the gift. It had been marred in the fire. He didn't want to throw it out, it held too many memories, but John thought it usable. "How in the world did he accomplish this?" The 'World's Greatest Dad' asked. Jim eyed his friend, "never under estimate the power of Dean's resolve." After that John never did.

June 3, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

The twenty six year old finished the story of his father thirty third birthday with telling his Angel the words he overheard Jim say. "Never under estimate the power of Dean's resolve." Pigtails bobbed as she moved her hand to his. "Guess he didn't after that." The still injured man looked down at his ravaged body and in true cocky fashion said, "Am going to have to agree with you sweetheart."

With a small voice 'sweetheart' went on, "Your resolve is impressive. When I got you into my truck you bucked against me. The sedative hadn't fully taken effect and your body was fighting it on principle. I hated like hell I was putting you through the battle. When you finally succumbed my stomach knotted. It felt like I took a strong man and not only kicked him. But spit on him too while he was down."

The caretaker was looking at the wall. She was ashamed. The day had not gotten off to a good start and while Dean had shared the contents of the world's heaviest box she felt as if she had failed him again. Using feminine wiles or what ever it was called against him had been the wrong choice. It was teasing, dangerous and just plain mean. She only did what she thought was best at the time. Maybe she told him about the car ride to torture herself. She wasn't sure.

"Angel, I am grateful you knocked me out. Do you know how much pain my resolve would have been in if I had to feel every fucking bump, knock and movement?" He could tell she was deep in upset thought. What was wrong? "Doesn't mean I can't feel bad." She countered. "No it doesn't you are entitled to your prerogative, although in this case, I think it's a little whacked." A raised eyebrow and "prerogative" is an awfully big word for a man I was told didn't favor the books much," was her rejoinder.

Dean looked her in the eye, completely serious. His Angel shifted she knew he wasn't joking. "I am sorry Dean; I just can't seem to get it right today. Am going to make you some dinner." She was off the bed and almost to the door when he said. "Mary, please stay, there is one more thing in the box I would like to show you." The five foot eight girl slowly turned around. It wasn't the use of her given name that got to her it was the sigh after the statement.

The nursemaid sat back down on the bed. Dean quipped, "I'm not upset, Sammy has long been considered the brain in the family." She smiled, "you are no less intelligent, in fact you are probably more so." He turned his head silently asking where she came up with that reasoning. "Reading books doesn't make you intelligent, it makes you book smart. Reading the world around you, that makes you intelligent." The hunter laughed. "Yeah well then the kid still might have some learning to do."

He handed her the brown envelope that made him tense earlier. His Angel looked at him. "Dean you don't have to share anything with me." He sighed, "I know I don't have too. I want too. The only other person who has viewed the contents of this envelope was Pastor Jim. Discussing them was the one and only time he raised his hand to me."

Mary had meet with Jim Murphy. In fact he was the one who really told her about Dean. The Preacher man was less prone to violence than a Buddhist monk. What were the contents that they made the peaceful man strike his surrogate son?

With what she hopped was a steady hand the auburn haired girl opened the portal to his past. Three smaller envelops slipped out. Once they were freed from the larger his Angel could see what they were. Acceptance letters to Columbia, Duke and Tufts. All three prestigious universities had offered Dean Christopher Winchester a full ride.

In that moment she realized all this man had given up for his family. Not for the first time did she want to rail at John Winchester. 'Why oh why couldn't the man understand what his family meant to Dean?' They were really all he had. 'Nothing is more important than family.' The caretaker thought about what Jim had said about Dean when he returned from taking Sam to California. It was all coming together now. He gave up a chance at his way out so his Sammy could have his. Unconditional love. Wow she wondered what it felt like…

Letting out a whistle she looked at Dean, she knew this was not the time for girly sentiment. "Ain't no flies on you. Guess then you really do know all the letters in the alphabet." He smiled at her relaxation technique, "I can count to one hundred too." She laughed, "all the way too a hundred and two. Be still my beating heart. Nothing like a man who can count to a hundred and two to get my blood flowing." Dean out and out laughed at that. "Thank you Angel."

She smiled and cocked an eyebrow "why did Jim hit you?" The wayward warriors face cringed. "Because I told him I wasn't worth it." His Angel closed her pretty brown eyes at that. He really believed that she could tell, especially now with what John had done. "Jim was hiding a strong right arm under his long black shirts, knocked me clean on my teen aged ass."

The lady on the bed eyed the papers in front of her. "Told me if I didn't think I was worth than I should stay on the ground while he gave me a real beating. The likes I had never scene." She swallowed Jim Murphy would never say something like that and not back it up.

"I didn't know what to do, I had never scene Jim that upset. I froze, couldn't move." Brown eyes looked at him, "he unbuckled his belt." She bit a lip. "Tell me you spoke up." He smiled, "in the short time you have known me have I yet to be without something to say?" His Angel tentatively smiled, "no not really." Dean ran a hand over the papers. "Jim please, if you are going to beat me let me stand up and take it like a man." The lady listening grimaced. He eyed her, "not really what I was hoping you said."

He laughed, "Not really what I was hoping for, a beating from Jim." She sighed. "Anyhow, he pulled me up by the collar of shirt turned me against the wall stripped me of my pants which had to be warm ups and whaled on my ass. Then he practically through me in one of his big chairs, my bum was smarting something fierce." The twenty six year old grimaced and continued.

"'You move a muscle boy and I promise you, I will take you out back and make sure you really can't sit. In fact I will beat your butt till it bleeds.' He was serious and at that age I wasn't really relishing the thought of having my bum paddled like a nine year old, especially if he intended to draw blood." Dean looked at his Angel. "I didn't move a muscle."

He continued, "Jim was gone about ten minutes. When he returned he sat on the coffee table in front of me…" the hunter swallowed. "Dean Christopher Winchester, I never want to hear the worlds I am not worth it come out of your mouth again. Do you understand me?" Dean looked at his Angel. "Yes Jim, I understand." The still black and blue hunter looked away as he talked on. "Poor man he touched my cheek then told me to go get some ice and come back. Damn if my ass wasn't on fire, that's were I wanted to put the ice. Where did he hide that strength?"

Mary folded the letters back into their sheaths. "When I returned Jim told me he understood why I would turn them down. Though he wished I wouldn't. No he wouldn't stop me or tell my Dad or Sam. Those were my decisions. But if the only reason I wasn't going to take one of the offers was I thought I wasn't worth it. He would drag me out back right then and there. In fact he was still inclined too. He could tell I didn't think I was worth it."

He looked at the girl on the bed she was currently putting the now refilled brown envelope back in the world's heaviest box. Dean wanted her to understand. Although he couldn't put a finger on why it was so important that she did.

"Kansas, I know you are opposed to the whole chick flick thing and to be honest with you I can't say I am a great proponent of it myself…" The wounded warrior cocked an eyebrow. "And at the risk of getting to girly for you…" The man held out a hand as if to say, 'go ahead.'

"We all have events in our lives that shape our core. Who we become. Who we become to ourselves, to the inside world, the outside world…" She sighed, "One thing I have learned the hard way is let them shape you for the better. After you have worked through the pain, the anguish." The chick flick girly locked eyes with the guy sitting next to her, "…and the blood, sweat and tears. It can be done."

He turned his head and bit his bottom lip. With a heavy heart Dean wondered what her other events were, the pattern she point it out... He would hold her and cry with her when he found out, a knife to the gut was nothing compared to what he would learn. Until then he listened to his Angels kind words. "You are worth it Dean Christopher Winchester, you are worth every second of every day. Don't ever think that you aren't. You matter, you do make a difference."

Tears ran down his checks, he couldn't stop them and for some reason didn't really want too. "All the sacrifices you have made for your family. I know you think them in vain, but they are not. What you gave up saved the lives of those you hold most dear. One day I promise you the hunting will be done and all the things you gave up will come back to you ten fold." The hunter chocked out a laugh. "Never make promises you don't intend to keep." Mary looked him dead in the eye. "I don't."

The twenty seven year old took a deep breath, "So tell me the rest of it, about Pastor Murphy." Dean ran a hand over his face. "I cried when I told him, I couldn't leave them. Where would they be?" His Angel looked at him unknowingly with the same look Jim had almost a decade earlier. 'Where indeed?' "Jim told me probably dead. He knew I was the glue that held the Winchester family together. He also said he was so sorry. One day I would be able to realize one of my dreams."

Trying to give him a breather, them both a moment Ms. Carney asked, "What were they?" He chuckled, "At four, to find a nice lady like my Mom to marry and be happy like my Dad. At nine, to be a racecar driver. At twelve, to have a home for my family. At fifteen, to become an engineer, I was always good at building things." She grabbed his hand, "one out of four isn't bad." He raised his eyes, "I have heard the talk about the Impala. When you are better, you'll take me for a spin." The driver smiled at the longing in her voice.

"Maybe one day you will even go two out of four." He cocked an eyebrow. "A home for your family. One day it will happen Dean." He smiled, "Okay Angel, you promised." When she squeezed his hand he swallowed at the sight of her fingers over his. 'Yeah sweetheart, maybe one day I will even go three out of four.' "Can I help in the kitchen?" He asked. She closed her eyes at the abrupt change in topic. His soul was bleeding and he was trying to cauterize the wound. "Carry on my wayward, Kansas."

September 5, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

Their magical summer was coming to a close. Dean knew that the time with his Angel was waning, so did she. They talked about it over a dinner of stew and pumpkin bread. One of the many meals they had shared in the last few months. His Angel broached the subject, "Kansas, we have gone on a couple of test runs. You seem to be Back in Black."

The Impala driver loved her use of classic rock references. She made a point of using them as often as she could come up with them. "I know Angel. You have to get back to New York and I have to find out if there really is life out there."

She laughed at the resignation in his voice. "No one is sending you to the gallows. Your Dad wants you to go to New Orleans to take care of something. Besides you know I am only a phone call away." She might have said it in a jovial manner but the recovered hunter knew she meant it. 'A phone call away.' Dean smiled, "Highway to Hell here I come." The brown eyed girl chuckled at the appropriate classic rock reference.

Grinning at her the Suck's To Be You tee shirt wearer went on, "Papa Winchester suggested I be there for October. What do you say we finish out the month here at the Sunflower Cabin?" The two wayward strays had taken to calling the cabin Sunflower Cabin because of the over abundance of the flora scattered through out the sturdy wooden structure. "Then maybe you can head down south with me, see how it is really done." His Angel laughed at his blatant attempt at male blustering.

"Kansas, I don't think your father would approve." Mary started. "Are you have started to care about that when exactly?" Dean questioned knowing she was going to go with him. "I don't know if my employer would approve either." The cocky twenty six year old knew he couldn't argue with that. He gave her a rare open smile. "I understand Angel."

One deep sigh later, "Okay Kansas, we will go Down South Jukin." Chuckling he bantered, "Lynyrd, nice." "Anything for you Kansas, anything for you." His Angel said with an equally unguarded expression. They both laughed neither knew how many times they had said those words 'anything for you.' With each time they were uttered, they became more and more true. Both knew there wasn't a thing the other could ask where they wouldn't do it.

September 30, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

Over the next few weeks they divided their time between researching the New Orleans job and enjoying the lull before the impending storm. Dean also brought up keeping in touch post split. They had just finished their oatmeal the Friday morning before their Sunday morning leave date. "Angel, I know we have touched on this and at the risk of going totally chick flick here." She looked him, mirroring his serious expression.

"Yes Kansas." He took a deep breath. "What about keeping in touch?" She exhaled the breath he had been holding. They both laughed. Talking over each other, "Way to..." "Need to…" They chuckled again. "Kansas, keep your emergency cell phone, pound one will get me. Remember you always wanted your own Bat Phone, now you have one."

He smiled. "You know it goes both ways if you want to call me." She smiled back at him. "You can't get rid of me that easy sweetheart." He cocked his head at her. His Angel never used terms of endearment, except for Kansas or pain my rear – which he chose to put in the term of endearment category.

Looking abashed and slightly disconcerted at her slip she went on. "What are you going to do after New Orleans?" Dean rubbed his hands over his face. "I don't know. Hopefully my Dad will call with another job. Or now that you have another ghost hunter on speed dial." The glint that came into her eyes gave him pause. "Kinky Kansas, having you do my bidding, there is something strangely perverse about it." An equally maniacal glint appeared in his eyes. "You know I would do your bidding in other areas too."

She laughed so hard he couldn't help but join in. By this time Dean knew the story behind her fear of being with the opposite sex. He kept it on an even keel soon she became used too and comfortable with the chick magnets flirting. "Tomorrow I am going to head to my contact and get us what we need for Louisiana job as well as a restock for your larder. Don't want your cache low on supplies."

'Right, weapons and holy water. What would his life be like without them?' Silently he wondered if maybe he would have had three out of four of his dreams or even four out of four by now if his Mom hadn't died? Cause he knew even without hunting that car would still be his. The twenty six year old didn't realize he had zoned out until he felt her hand over his. "Kansas?"

"Sorry Angel, my mind went for a walk." She gave him a once over checking to make sure everything was okay. "If you like what you see sweetheart, you can take it for a test drive." Expelling an exasperated sigh his Angel continued. "Then a few small errands. Is there anything you need to me get for you?" "No Angel, I think I am good." He thought of all he was going to do while she was out. But for now both their plans could wait.

The young man ran two hands over his face and down the back of his neck where he rested them. Leaning back into stretch he let his mind stop for a second. Once he brought everything back into focus and before he lost his nerve Dean told his friend what he had in mind. "Angel, I have come to the decision that you are right."

She inclined her head. "Right about?" She knew what was coming next. She wanted to handle the conversation correctly. This was not an easy decision for him. The auburn haired girl had watched the battle wagging for sometime now.

"I would like to go into Lawrence today. To Oak Hill." His Angel knelt in front of him no extra girly mushy stuff just, "lets go then." She smiled at him touching his face softly. They went into the cabin to change. His Angel finished the task a little sooner than Dean. She figured he needed time to prepare before his big sojourn down memory lane.

When he exited the cabin Dean found his best friend and confidant leaning up against his baby. 'What was she holding?' Upon closer inspection it was three wild sunflowers, wrapped with a big blue bow. "One for each of her boys." He smiled at her answer to his unasked question, the girl thought of everything.

Smiling he tossed his keys to her. "Angel why don't you drive?" She gave him a look for the records books. "Kansas, are you feeling okay?" His Angel took his pulse, checked his eyes. The plucky gal even went so far as to rest a hand against his head to take a temperature reading. 'Go ahead sweetheart.' Dean thought. 'You have me off the charts.'

Instead of saying what he was thinking he laughed and went with. "Angel, I know how much you love my baby. Thought you would like to drive her. With my permission this time." Smiling at him she said, "Hells Bells." Then she did something Dean did not expect at all. Kissed him on the lips, chastely, of course.

Still the touch of her soft lips against his made his heart jump and Mr. Wiggly wiggle. He watched her eyes as she registered that fact. The wooer didn't know what she would do. The normally opposed to anything physical at least in that respect brown eyed girl wrapped her arms around her friend and rested her head against his heart.

Dean brought his arms to rest around her, not tight just enough. When she pulled out of his embrace she said, "thank you Dean." He smiled, "thank you? For what exactly?" She grinned at him, eyes twinkling as she looked down, "that." They had said these words before, only this time she was comfortable with him. Big Timber didn't startle or scare her.

The warrior against dark evils knew what was behind the fear, her 'event in our lives that shape our core,' as she had discussed with him about so many months ago. The event they had been talking about then was he not thinking he was worth it, Jim and college. Hers Dean found out was so much worse…

"Hells Bells, Sweetheart, Hells Bells." His Angel opened the door for him. He tipped his imaginary hat at her. She tipped hers and handed him the flowers. When she sat in the driver's seat the smile that came across her face was brighter than the harvest moon that would lead them to their voodoo rich destination.

Turning to him she cocked her eyebrows and turned the key in the ignition. Dean appropriately put in AC/DC and leaned back for the ride. His Angel was very courteous with his baby. She talked to her, told her how wonderful she was. His best friend also told his baby how she knew Dean was very apprehensive about their destination. She went on to say, "Kansas was the strongest man she knew. He would make it through the impending battle."

Then in a small voice she confided, "maybe a few tears would be shed, ultimately though Kansas would be victorious." 'Wow' Dean thought, 'strongest man she new.' Then with her beautiful brown eyes twinkling against the early morning sun she looked up at him and back to the dash. As if answering his thoughts, she said to the Impala. "Handsomest man she knew too." The handsomest man his Angel knew sat a little straighter. 'Was she chuckling? He was damn handsome.'

By the time they reached Oak Hill the normally confident hunter's heart was palpating. When his Angel parked she reached over took his hand. "Dean." Nothing, when she didn't receive a response she changed tactic, "Sweetheart, we are here." He looked at her, eyes sad and far away. "I know Angel." She squeezed his hand. "Take all the time you need."

They both looked out the window at the row of lives in front of them. Unbeknownst to Dean this was not her first trip to visit with Mary Sophia Winchester. The Covenant member had made regular visits over the course of the summer to visit with Mrs. Winchester or her gravestone at least. The younger Mary filled the older one in on her boys, all three of them. And tried unsuccessfully to get a reading, which ultimately gave her hope.

"Angel will walk with me?" Dean asked. He was trying so hard to sound brave. She knew he was scared. With all the time they spent together they had learned each other's tells. Mary could see the increasing anxiety in his eyes. "Anything for you Kansas." His smile was sad when he looked at her, his voice serious when he spoke, "I do believe you mean that Angel." Her smile was brighter than a thousand sunflowers, "Anything for you Dean."

The man who was about to talk to his mother for the first time in decades touched a gentle hand to his Angel's face. The girl closed her eyes and for the smallest of seconds Dean felt her lean into his touch. When she opened her window's to the soul she said, "All our times have come…Here but now they're gone…Seasons don't fear the reaper, Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain…We can be like they are…Here but now they're gone, Came the last night of sadness…Then the door was open and the wind appeared…Come on baby...don't fear the reaper."

Dean expelled a pent up breath, half laughing, half choking down a sob. "The Reaper, Blue Oyster Cult. Gotta love a girl that appreciates the classics." The friends exited the 67 Impala. His Angel let the wounded heart hunter set the pace. He steps were slow but steady. When they reached Mary Sophia Winchester's headstone, the brown eyed girl held back wanting to provide Dean privacy. Talking to your mom for the first time in twenty years. Well, he was a proud man.

The freckled nose bun wearer watched him. He knelt down put the flowers in a vase next to the heavy cement marker. Dean ran his hand down the side. "Mom, I am sorry I have not been here in a while. Okay, two decades. I just didn't think I could continue the fight if I returned to see you. Dad needed me and well, he was here."

The first born son sighed and went on, "Doesn't mean I don't miss you, cause I do so much. Anyhow, Sammy is doing well. You would so proud of him. He is in college. A regular geek boy. Four point oh at Stanford University; he didn't get that from me." Dean ran a hand over her stone, tracing the name Winchester.

"Ability to tie shoelaces, cook a mean spaghetti sauce with meatballs and throw a punch. That I take credit for. Okay maybe Dad helped with the punch part, but defiantly not the cooking." The twenty six year old ran a hand over his face, "the brains, no I am afraid he inherited that from your side of the family." His Angel sighed he still thought he wasn't worth it. 'Oh my poor Kansas.'

Dean lowered himself till he was resting on his knees and in a small voice, as if it weren't between the son and his mother's headstone already. "Dad told me I have your heart though and apparently your stone eyed look. Though he usually says that part with a sigh and a hand through his hair. Oh Mom things haven't been so good lately…"

After an hour the twenty seven year old found a tree to lean against. Dean was still quietly talking to his mother. It was important, she might not have been there but Mary Winchester had shaped his life. John Winchester was hell bent on revenge, the song of grief.

Not that what he had accomplished wasn't significant and consequential. He did the best with what he had when he had it. It was just maybe he should have physically shown the boys more love. From all the stories he heard from her employer, Auggie and even Dean, John was a romantic and an involved father before the inferno consumed his wife and with it a part of his heart.

"Angel?" Dean was standing in front of her. Pulling her self from her musing she looked at him. "Can I introduce to my mother?" His request was sincere. The freckled nosed girl nodded and smiled to him. "I would be honored Kansas." The just spoke with his mom for the first time in decades to his mother son held out his hand, the girl placed hers in it. They walked in a comfortable silence to the older Mary's resting place.

"Mom, this is Mary Carney." Dean turned to her. She looked at him with an emotion he wasn't sure he wanted to name. "Mary this my mother, Mary Winchester." "Mrs. Winchester it is an honor and privilege. You bore two amazing sons. You would be proud of Dean he has single handedly held your family together. Your beautiful boys have made it this far because of your barn made one. You married a man who loves you unconditionally. I can only hope to have that one day. John has never given up on you. In most ways it's a wonderful devotion. When you see him next you tell him he did good."

Dean looked at his Angel she never spoke of men like that, at all. Hum, interesting very very interesting. What he thought was even more interesting was that he thought it was interesting. His mind wandered when he came back from his reverie he heard his Angel say. "Thank you, ma'am. "Bye, Mom." Dean said as he turned around. The five foot eight Irish girl stepped with him.

The twenty six year old instinctively put his arm at her lower back. "Thank you, Mary. Thank you for helping me to get here." She smiled at him. They were about ten steps away when she stopped. Be right back Dean. He turned and watched her crouch in front of his mother.

"Thank you for listening to your son today. It took a great amount of courage for him. You have my word ma'mm I won't leave him. He will never walk alone. Ave Maria, Pax Tecum." The now lighter hearted man shook his head his Angel was a unique one. Latin. Peace be with you.

…She had become like they are… …She had become like they are… …Come on baby… …Don't fear the reaper… The girl stood up and again walked beside him. Dean sighed a sigh of the man who had an enormous weight lifted off him. He felt a hand slide in his, he squeezed. They walked back to the car hand in hand.

When they reached the Impala his Angel held out the keys. The car owner nodded to the driver's side. Her smile was enough to know he did a good thing. "Kansas, I love this car." "That's my girl." Dean gave no clear indication whether he speaking about the girl or the car.

They who were headed to the land of voodoo and Bad Moon Rising spent of the afternoon packing their things and inventorying their stock. Writing a final list of things she would need to get for their trek down south. Neither had felt like doing the rest of what they had planned that day after the visit to the cemetery.

The Sunflower Cabin inhabitants finally hit the rose covered pillows at 12:30am. Normally they had their respective sides of the bed. That night when Dean turned the lights out, his Angel snuggled close to his warmth, careful not to come in contact with him. The wooer smiled to her back then he lifted an arm up the auburn haired girl scooted back into the comfort of his embrace.

"Sweetheart, are you okay? You know with the cemetery, were the voices bad?" The man queried his friend. "Yes Kansas, I am okay. Thank you for asking." 'Sweetheart' was just grateful he hadn't asked her about talking with Mrs. Winchester. She couldn't and wouldn't lie to him about not being able to get talk with her. But the conclusion he would have come up with after hearing her answer would not have been good.

"Mary, are you sure?" She reached down and rested her chin on his hand. "Yes Dean." The twenty seven year old never regretted sharing her gift with the hunter. He had taken in it stride. "So you are not a spoon bender, just a ghost talker?" Laughing she had replied, "Just a ghost talker." They didn't wake up until the alarm rang with the roosters at 5:00am.

October 1, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

The Covenant member went out to take care of securing the hunting supplies and a few other very important things. The hunter stayed back stored what needed to be stored around the Sunflower Cabin. By mid afternoon he was onto cooking his best friend a surprise dinner. He cooked everything from scratch. No out of the box shit for his Angel his… The fully recovered warrior smiled at the thought.

When all was ready on the Betty Crocker front he went to change. Dean put on the nicest clothes he had. A tie, he was wearing a tie, of his own volition. His brother, Dad and Jim would be giggling like schoolgirls. When the tracker of evil spirits finished changing he sat on the edge of the bed to put on his shoes, dress shoes. That sound he heard in his head as he slipped them on was Jim laughing his ass off.

A bed they had shared platonically for the last few months. Platonically. Oh sure they had woke up in compromising positions, when that happened they always joked about it. The dirty blond thought back to the morning after their first night together. "No Dean I am not much of an arborist." He smiled, "One day sweetheart, I will make you scream and you will enjoy it."

One day hadn't happened yet. Oh but it would. They had stayed on their sides of the bed, except for last night, his Angel actually snuggled into his relaxed into his embrace. He was on top of the world. The hunter knew she trusted him with her life. But last night confirmed she trusted him completely. Even with that unnamed something.

Dean stood up and smoothed the crease he made. He looked at the pillowcases, roses. His Angel said, "There are one to many fricking sunflowers in this garden of ours, we need a visual break." He would have preferred regular blue, but hey after the girl had done. The twenty six year old was in the bathroom when he heard her pull up. The newly shaved man dried his face off and applied aftershave.

Then he double timed it out side to help her with the supplies and whatever else she had purchased. "Kansas." She let out a catcall and whistle. The normally over confidant and cocky man had the good grace to blush. "Wow, you clean up more than nice." Dean straightened a little at her unabashed compliment he did look good.

Mary opened the passenger door and grabbed a couple of bags. The ghost annihilator reached in and grabbed the rest. The bags he grabbed were burlap. 'Supplies.' He expelled a sigh. "One day I promise you the hunting will be done and all the things you gave up will come back to you ten fold." Another heavy sigh. "Never make promises you don't intend to keep." "I don't." Dean Christopher Winchester prayed that it was an oath that would hold.

"Damn Kansas, that's a fine looking ass you got there." When he turned around from retrieving the 'supplies' his checks were flaming. "Your welcome to touch it Angel." Dean smirked thinking she would never take him up on his offer.

She inched closer to him, maintaining eye contact. Then with a totally cocky feminine wiles look she put an arm around him and touched his bum. This was the first time since her not so successful scaling of his tree his Angel had touched him in a boy girl manner. She smiled at him, "Smokin." He laughed, but his eyes said something totally different. Big Timber thickened with her intimate contact. Beautiful brown eyes held his gaze for a second. Then she turned around and headed into the cabin.

Dean practiced slow breathing techniques to bring his heart rate and Big Timber back into the normal range. Once he was confident that was the case he followed her into the Chateau Sunflower. He stopped at the door jam, ran a hand down the smooth wood and looked around what had become a home to him.

The twenty six year old would miss this place. Not just the physical structure, all it stood for. The barn event, that's what they had taken to calling it, might have brought them here. But all that Dean learned after he got here. He wouldn't change for anything. The hunter would even willing go another round with his father. Though a second time though he would have fought back.

Mary's breath was taken away when she walked into the cabin. Her Kansas had placed fresh sunflowers on the coffee table. Pictures they had tacked on the wall had been framed. In the kitchen there were candles and a beautiful white eyelet tablecloth. 'Were those cloth napkins?' She smiled when she realized she had thought of the Winchester man as her Kansas. Chuckling at her self she went into the bedroom to change.

The no longer a nursemaid changed into the girliest clothes she had. While she was put her top on her eyes roved over the bed. A bed they had shared for months. Platonically. Oh not that he wouldn't have put out as he said it if she asked or gave him any indication she wanted to.

Dean was the only person she had given specific details to about her attack. Aside from John that was and that was because he was there to literally put her pieces back together. Even then though, Dean was the only person she talked with about the mental effects. He understood her fear at getting physical with some and more importantly her Kansas understood her apprehension of trusting some one with that unnamed something.

Last night, she figured they both needed comfort. His arms were safe, probably the safest place she knew. When he held her it was as if there was no outside world just them. She shook her head to clear the thoughts, she couldn't think like that. It could get them killed. The brown eyed girl looked in the mirror and turned her head at the image. Then she let her hair down and put a little make up on.

When she reentered the kitchen it was Dean's turn to whistle and cat call. His Angel hid a nice rack under her regular clothes. And her hair. Wow. Angels above it was beautiful. She smiled kindly at his appraising. The wooer never made her feel less beautiful because she wasn't a size two.

"You did all this?" The girl questioned. "Dean the domestic in action." He replied tipping his stirring spoon at her. She laughed, "Okay then I have desert taken care of." The second the words were out of her mouth she realized the double entendre. The look in Kansas's eyes told her he would be willing to skip dinner and go straight to desert. Her being the confection in discussion.

Swallowing at the unhidden passion swirling in his eyes she mumbled, "I'll be back" and scurried out of the wooden structure. She knew they both needed a breather. Besides there was something she wanted to retrieve from her vehicle.

Her beat up, many thousands of miles on him, Chevy truck. Miles, she had taken to calling her truck Miles, because no matter how many they went, he stayed with her. Once she had the item in one hand, she ran the other down Miles' hood. "Tomorrow darlin we will be on a road to nowhere good. You keep us safe."

When the waist long auburn haired girl returned dinner was waiting on the table. Dean held the chair out for her. "Thank you kind sir." He playfully smacked her on the ass as she went to sit down. She looked up at him there was a hunger in her dark eyes, a voracity for something other than food.

"Turnabout is fair play Angel." She just laughed. As it turns out they did a lot of that. Dinner was a non stop laugh riot. They kept each other in stitches, neither really wanting to face the fact they were going to leave each other. The wayward strays had become each other's best friend and maybe something else but they weren't sure what.

When dinner concluded they took turns using the water closet. Lady first, gentleman second. When the gentleman entered the living room he noticed she had wrapped boxes with her. His smile widened and his tightened his grip on the bags in his hand. The hazel eyed Winchester took a seat in the chair opposite her.

Dean cocked his eyebrows. His Angel mimicked the movement. "Great minds think alike." They said in unison. Each stray sighed it felt so comfortable and yet sad at the same time. "Ladies first." The tie wearer acquiesced with a big hand flourish.

The skeleton on her wrist danced as she handed him the biggest to the smallest. All the presents were wrapped. The Kansas native had told her about wrapping and how it was the most important part. Dean took his time opening the gift.

When he saw what the box housed he was speechless. His leather jacket, cleaned and blood free. "How did… I though it…" The jacket owner couldn't even form whole sentences. Angel watched him and the way he held it. It was heart wrenchingly clear how important it was. When Dean was able to formulate his thoughts into words he gave her the background.

"Sammy bought this for me when I had pneumonia." She waited for him to continue, knowing he would. Dean had told her countless number of Sammy and Dean stories, most of them very telling. They really only had each other. Angel didn't doubt Dean was as important to Sam as Sam was to Dean. The bestest brother and cool brother extraordinaire, them against the world. They would get it back. It would take time, but they would.

"I was fifteen. We were on a job in Weeping fucking Water, Nebraska…" The girl thought back to that first night "The dreams, oh fuck. Please make them go away. My head is going to explode. The room is swimming. I hate Nebraska." She remembered thinking what did the cornhusker state have to do with anything. Now she was going to find out. He had been dreaming of this event.

"Angel?" The brown eyed girl brought her attention back to her friend. "Yes." He looked at her, "You zoned out on me, where did you go?" She closed her eyes when she opened them her Kansas knew he wasn't going to like what she said.

"Do you remember our first conversation?" Hazel eyes blinked, "You mean the very first phone call?" His Angel nodded in the affirmative. "Its hazy, the only two things that stand out are you yelling, 'Dean Christopher Winchester. Don't you dare say that. Not after everything I went through to make sure that didn't happen' and being relieved when you 'on my way.'" Mary laughed at his imitation of her girl voice.

"You said "the dreams, oh fuck. Please make them go away. My head is going to explode. The room is swimming. I hate Nebraska." He swallowed as she went on. "You were dreaming about this?" The five foot eight sorta ghost hunter held a hand up to his leather jacket. Not knowing if he could talk with an even voice Dean nodded yes. "Oh Kansas, I'm gonna hate Nebraska too, aren't I?" Her Kansas reached over and held her hand, "Yeah sweetheart I get the feeling you kinda are."

Sighing the now twenty six year old continued, "It was the middle of November and as cold as a witches tit. One of the original maidens didn't want to let go of the battle between the settlers and Indians. She continued to take men as solace. The not ready to let it go chick would drag them into the river and… Turns out her husbands name had been Samuel. Any man with that name or variation was fair game. My father used eleven year old Sammy as bait." His Angel wished she could say she was surprised truth was, she wasn't.

"Keep on eye on your brother, Dean. Don't let him out of your sight." Those words were said with the resign of a person who had had them embossed in his brain. The girl feared what she would hear next. John Winchester was a phy ops genius for the Marine Corps he employed all the techniques he had learned on his children.

"He had other ways making us fall in line, equally as torturous, but they didn't leave any scars you could see?" His Angel questioned with a sad smile, she had feeling from the look on his face that this was not one of those times. Dean swallowed, "Fraid I wasn't that lucky." He quietly loosened his tie unbuttoned the button at the top of his shirt then pulled it off.

When he went for his undershirt, her eyes grew watery, she had scene the scars but she honestly didn't think they were from a beating. After the vitiated young man had divested himself of the white under shirt he turned around. He flinched when she ran a hand over the reminders of that night so long ago.

The hunter went to turn his Angel stayed him with a hand. She leaned her head up and kissed the scars. He could taste the salt from his tears as they ran over his lip and down his chin. Then she put her arms around him and hugged him, resting her head on the area she just kissed.

Dean rested his arms over hers. He could feel the warmth of her tears on his back. He released his arms and slowly turned around so he was facing her. His Angel hugged him and ran her lips over his rapidly beating heart. "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." 'Invictus.' The Winchester warrior against evil was intimately acquainted with the piece. He had used it on his college applications.

It wasn't the first time she had used the poem, but somehow this time it felt different, she wanted him to know she didn't feel sorry for him, the opposite in fact. Before he could stop himself the wooer reached down and kissed her, on the lips and not chastely. When he felt her body tense he instinctively loosened the pressure.

To his surprise she brought her hands up to his neck and pulled him down to easier facilitate the contact. When they came up for air neither knew what to say or do. 'Imagine,' Dean thought, 'me not knowing what to do with a woman.' His Angel rested a hand on his stomach till her breathing returned to normal. "Kansas, you got game." The man with game laughed. "Right back at you sweetheart."

With her heart rate back in safe range Mary patted her Kansas's stomach. "Okay so I am going to hate Nebraska…" He was keen to her change of topics. 'No more hanky panky. Got it.' The shirtless man slide back into the white cotton Hanes product. 'Damn if he were as hard as the come.' If they kept going like this he was going to have to head out back into the copse of trees for some alone time with his. "Okay Angel, here it goes."

December 15, 1993/October 1, 2005Weeping Water, Nebraska/Lone Star, Kansas

"Dean, what if she gets me?" A nervous eleven year old Sam asked. "Sammy, Sam." His kid brother wanted to be more grown up. Sammy was for kids he said. "Sam, Dad has his sights trained on her. You know how good a shot he is." Brown green windows of doubt look 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.

"About a half hour later the howling started." Present day Dean paused. "Dean I am scared." Sam Winchester said his voice shaky. Before the older sibling could answer he heard his father's voice in his ear. "Shut him the fuck up." Oh hell it was going to be one of those nights he thought.

Current day Dean looked at his Angel. "My Dad, as you know can be very focused. There were times when this trait of his caused him to forget we weren't Marines, just his children." The brown eyed girl gave him an, 'I hear you' nod.

"Sammy, you have to be quiet, please." The fifteen year old saw his moppet haired brother give him an understanding look, kid knew his Dad too. His cool brother extraordinaire put on a brave face as he sat there. Judging by the concentration in his brown green eyes he was singing something. Something in his head, a trick that his bestest brother taught him.

Dean heard a rustling behind him, a crackling, then he smelled it. 'Shit, fire.' The young hunter turned for a second to see where it was. That was all it took. When he turned back from seeing the flames Sam was walking towards him. The apparition grabbed him.

The older brother didn't think twice he charged her. Running her straight into her the creek, saying the expelling chant the whole time. He stayed in that damn river with her for almost an hour, tossing, turning and chanting. His Angel shuttered, she could almost guess what happened next and it wasn't going to be pretty.

"My Dad let me stay in there the whole time. I guess I was grateful, I knew what was going to happen when I emerged from Weeping fucking Water creek." Dean took a deep breath this event never left his mind, it was the one and only time his father ever beat him to a bloody pulp. Including the situation that brought him and his Angel together.

"The ole man wouldn't even let me out, made me stand in the freezing cold water which for some reason even though it was December hadn't frozen over yet. The man yelled at me for an eternity. When I dared to let myself look at Sammy his eyes were puffy tears were streaming down his chin. With a resolve I didn't even know I had I squared mine and looked at my father. He punched me so hard I feel back into the water."

His Angel closed her eyes. When she opened him she ran a hand down the scar under his eye. Dean closed his windows and dropped his head, silently answering her unasked question. When her hand lifted he slowly brought his eyelids up. The look she gave, he knew was directed towards his father. 'Oh John,' the auburn haired lady thought.

"Get up Dean, take it like a man." John Winchester spat. "By this time hypothermia was setting in. My joints were stiffing and not in a Big Timber sorta way." His Angel smiled at his attempt to break the sad story. Her heart went out to all parties involved. There is a point in the life of hunter where you cross a line. If you realize and are able to change you will live, if you don't something inside you dies. John thank Saint Bridget changed.

"Anyhow my body was aching from the cold water, the biting wind and the near zero temperature. When I stood up he grabbed me by the back of my neck and literally dragged me over to this large ass bolder…" His voice trailed off. "Kansas, you don't have to go on, I can fill in the blanks." He caressed his hands over the jacket.

"Sammy, you come here." My Dad was in a rage, I had never scene him like that. Not before or since." The twenty seven year old watched her friend. Dean was back at the event. "Poor Sam, he was shaking so bad, he was terrified for me and mad at my father. That was his turning point. He never looked at our Dad the same way again. If he EVER found out what happened with the Great Missouri Barn Incident, they we never speak again." Then as an after thought added, "not that they do much now."

He looked out the window behind his Angel and took a deep calming breath. "Dad, whipped off his belt. Beat my backside with a fury. I can still smell the blood see it running down the rock. The man told Sam to watch. We both learned. You break the rules, you pay consequences." Dean stretched he could still feel the sting of the leather against his frozen backside.

"By the time my Dad was done whipping my back to threads, I could hardly move. He just left me there. I think the only reason he even stopped was I finally cried out. Bit my lip as long as I could but at one point, the pain just… Sammy had to help me. It was beyond embarrassing. Took geek boy and me over a half hour to make it to the place we had been staying. By then I was so cold." Again the storyteller looked out the window, 'when you don't want the other person to know what you are thinking look at the horizon.'

So did his Angel, she knew the safe house in Weeping Water intimately, even the rock. At least now she knew were the blood came from, 'her Kansas.' She thought back to an earlier conversation of theirs. "…Before he walloped my ass he always told me why first. Never just paddled it, well Weeping…" Yeah she was beginning to hate Nebraska too.

"Craven, what do I do?" Sam asked in a crocked out whisper. "My back was welted and bloody. My body was beyond shaking from the cold, my cough rattled the windows." Brown eyes looked at him sadly, "You were in shock?" The twenty six year old returned the doleful expression "Shock, fuck shock I was past that. No shock would have been welcomed. My body was heading to Oak Hill. The only reason I didn't was because of Sammy. He needed me."

'Needed me.' The way the man said it. He didn't believe it to be true now. Her poor Kansas thought no one needed him. And to him that was his only gift, being the person someone needed. Dean might have thought they didn't want him, but at least they needed him. Small fingers placed themselves over his large hands. The annihilator of all things apparition flipped his hand over and entwined their hands. His Angel motioned for him to go on.

"As quiet as we could we snuck in the house were staying at. It didn't matter, my Dad wasn't even there." He rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. Just like his father. It was unconscious. "When we realized it was just us, I told Sam we had to get me cleaned up and warm."

The intake of her breath was nothing compared to the intake of his when Sammy cleaned it. "Blood seeped through my frozen layers. Sam had to peel off the clothes. Holy fuck, the kid tried to be gentle but the skin and the clothes had bonded together in some places…" She swallowed.

"…I remember him saying over and over again. My fault, my fault, my fault. That was it for Sammy, if my Dad smacked me the kid always thought it was his fault. Why didn't he understand that it was my actions that resulted in me catching the strap, not his?" The Winchester warrior rubbed his face again.

October 1, 2005 Lone Star, Kansas

Mary looked at her friend and decided to answer with what she was really thinking. Dean might not appreciate it but as he said to her all the time, 'start as you mean to go on.' "Because to him then it gave him purpose. From all the stories you have told me and what I have heard him say when he calls, he feels like the forgotten one."

The older brother swallowed and went to say something. The now shoeless girl stopped him with a head nod. "You had your mother in your life and the good part of your Dad. Not that after the inferno that consumed your mom he didn't have good moments. But let's be honest Kansas, it changed him and not for the better…" The safe house residents looked at their hands and each other. Dean nodded for her to talk.

"Sam even if by default was your responsibility. Oh your father paid for the food that was put on the table and tucked you in. But the day to day, that was you. To Sam you not your father were his primary caregiver. When something happened to you, of course he was going to feel responsible. You have told me you always told him, 'I will protect you Sammy.' Somewhere inside him, he wanted to repay the favor. And lets face it Kansas with some of the stories you have relayed, you did take a punishment to keep the pressure of your brother." "True." Was her Kansas's quiet one word answer to her statement.

"All his life he was 'take care of your brother Dean.' You weren't the only one who heard those words. He did too. Sam wondered how come it wasn't take care of your son's John. Somewhere in there he must have thought you were John's son and he was yours. I know it sounds a little skewed and I am probably not saying right…" Dean sighed, "but I get the point."

She turned her head, "you all have your demons to battle, even Sam. Never doubt that he loves you though. You played me that voicemail. "I love you Dean, I will always need a brother like you. If I may be so bold…" The girl stretched her neck to work out a kink. Her Kansas lifted and eyebrow and with his free hand rolled his hand as if to say, 'go ahead.'

"Maybe you shouldn't protect him so much." Hazel eyes blazed at her. Sighing Dean's Angel continued. "By that I mean, now that he is old enough, talk to him. Tell him what you did and why. I know chick flick shit ain't your thing. Caring and sharing is for us woman folk. But it's also for people who watch Oprah." The man in the Hanes shirt suddenly found the floor entrancing to stare at.

"Sam in going to continue to carry that chip on his shoulder until someone tells him he matters. He thinks he was an after thought. 'Take care of your brother Dean.' I bet if you ask him just once he wanted to hear take care of Sammy Dean. Would also wager a guess that in some small way he loved your Dad more when John punched him, because at least then he knew that his Dad saw him, not just Dean's little brother."

The listener rolled his jaw and closed his pain filled tired eyes. He had never really thought about it from the kid's perspective. What his Angel was saying made sense, lots and lots of it. "He wanted to be part of the boys club and when he realized he would always be 'take care of your brother Dean' and not a full fledged member he wanted out. It wasn't that he didn't know that you loved him and loved him beyond measure…"

Dean cleared his throat at the excessive chickiness of the explanation, not again that she was wrong he did love his geek boy brother beyond measure. "Maybe now you should tell him some of things you have done for him. Not to make him feel bad, but to make him understand. Part of him wanted you to get you both out. Part of him wanted to be acknowledged as a Winchester hunter. I'll wager the battle wages on inside him even now. 'What if they get hurt and I could have been there to help?" His Angel stopped and looked at him, dead in the eye. "Do not let Winchester Male Pride stand in the way.'

Dean abruptly stood up and headed outside. Mary hung her head. 'Me and my stupid big mouth.' She ran her hands over her face and through her hair. When the auburn haired girl worked out the knots she took her fingers and worked the long strands into a knot. Sighing she stood up went over to the chair where her friend had been sitting and folded his shirt and tie. 'A tie.' The Covenant member laughed.

Bare feet padded to the kitchen. The dishwasher was on the last dirty offender when she heard the door open. "Angel?" The hunter's voice carried from the living room. "In the kitchen Kansas." She replied as she turned off the water. When the dirty blond walked into the kitchen his Angel was bent over putting a pan away.

He swallowed at the silhouette of her ass through the skirt. The girl heard him shift his weight. Task completed she stood up and looked at him. Dean knew his eyes must have been saying girl I want to fuck your brains out. The normally confident wooer of all things female prayed that didn't scare her. Because quite frankly he was at a loss as for how to change his expression at the moment.

The ghost tracker needn't have worried. She wasn't frightened. "Grab your mug Kansas lets head back into out presents." Dean shook himself and did what she bid. Grabbed his mug and went back out to the gifts. When they were seated she picked up his coat from its resting place over the back of his chair. "Do you want to finish telling me what happened or…" His Angel was to kind, she knew the less he kept bottled up.

December, 1993/October 1, 2005Weeping Water, Nebraska/Lone Star, Kansas

Taking a sip of the cocoa the older brother went back to the unhappy memory. "Amos it is not your fault it is no ones fault. Shit happens." The fifteen year old paused he needed to get his breathing under control. Everything hurt. "You said a bad word Dean." She laughed, "He does know they are regular part of your vocabulary now?" His raised eyebrows told her the answer.

"Sam's hands were shaking when he wiped the blood off my back. I tried not to make noise you know be the strong silent stoic type. But I couldn't help it my back was lashed way open in some places. My father taught me one hell of a lesson. I told you 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. Guess the old man wasn't kidding. Poor Sammy actually had to dig leather pieces out of my skin."

When the orator looked up at his Angel, tears were silently tracing a path down her checks. He moved out of his chair and sat next to her. Using his thumbs he wiped the tears away. "Don't cry for me Angel, I made it, I am still here. And I am still the most handsome man you know. Besides didn't you say something to the effect scars make a man sexy?"

The now in a messy bun girl touched his face with her hands. "Your capacity to forgive is amazing." Dean laughed, humorlessly. "When Sam finished he put salve on my back and taped an old clean t-shirt to it." She didn't miss the emphasis on the word clean. For everything he was still Dean the Domestic.

"Then we got me out of my wet clothes. That memory will stick with me forever. I was rattling more than the windows did with the storm last week. My heart was beating so weird. By the time we got warm dry clothes on me, my body felt as if pins were sticking it. Well most of my sexy body…" The ladies man gave his friend an overly exaggerated wanna wanna look with his eyes. She sighed and motioned for him to go on. "…my back felt as if I have been flayed like a fish." Silently his Angel said, 'it had.'

"Sammy make me something warm, please." The younger brother cringed at the desperation in his bestest brother's voice. Dean was always the strong one. He couldn't and wouldn't loose him. Then he would have no one. "Water, coffee, anything." The beaten teenager rasped out.

"He made me coffee that I swear put hair on my baby toes it was so hot and strong. Then he took the covers of his bed and put them over me, snuggling in close next to me. Body heat. He was trying to get me to thaw out." She touched the jacket, thinking of all it stood for. The ghost talker had done the right thing having it cleaned.

"I had four cups of that horrid swill. Sammy hugged me for hours, rubbing my arms, legs, anything but my battered back to get me warm." The twenty six year old gripped the jacket. "Then my father came back." His Angel swallowed. Dean looked at her. "Yeah. Tell me about it." Their gazes fell to the leather article.

"Dean, Dad's here." The exhausted older brother bit a lip to help control the convulsions his body was feeling. "I know Sammy. You go and see if he needs anything." Dean laughed when he said the next part. "Defiant Sam in Action."

Sliding out of bed the eleven year old warrior stood in front of Dean. It was cool brother extraordinaire's turn to protect his brother. The moppet was ready for battle. "Sam what are you doing?" The enervated Winchester could barley speak. His horse voice belayed the fact he had swallow half the creeks water. "Taking care of you Dean." The present day bestest brother looked at her, pride in his eye. "He would have killed my Dad, I am sure of it as we are sitting here." She was too.

The door to their room opened. John looked at his sons. The look on little Sammy's, okay getting bigger now, face gave him pause. The father gave him a look that said 'message received.' Sammy didn't flinch, didn't budge nothing. "Boys." Brown green eyes just looked at him with an unwavering stare saying zip.

"Samuel, do you have something you would like to say?" His eleven year old leveled a murderous glaze at him. "Yes, sir. But I need to take care of Dean." The father and his eldest son jerked at the calmness of the statement. Ever the peacemaker, Dean crocked out, "Enough Sammy, Enough. Just come back and stay with me. Please it helped."

The Dad knew it was bad if his Imp didn't even acknowledge him. His floppy haired centurion turned around and climbed under the covers with his brother. John assessed the situation. Both of his son's effectively gave him the heave ho. 'Change tactics Johnny boy.' The consternated father turned around and walked out.

He stood outside their door. The man hoped to hear how bad it really was. John was not disappointed. He heard the older one talk first. "Sammy, you are damn lucky he didn't smack you for talk like that." John rested his head against the door. He had done everything wrong. All of it. 'Fuck.' The kid's response confirmed what he already knew he would never get his younger son's adoration back.

"You take care of us everyday, Dad and I. If he can't return the favor with anything than what he did last night. Let him hit me. We could be a matching set." Dean's cough worried him, but it was the boy's words that scared him. To his very core. "Sammy please, I need to know you will be okay. You might be all he has left." Dean's Angel frowned. She had used those same words, 'let him hit me. We could be a matching set.'

"…All he has left." With the simple matter of fact statement from his Imp, his wonderful son, John knew he fucked up. Irrevocably. He went to the phone on the table, grabbed it and pulled it with him. "Its John, I need your help. We are at the safe house in Weeping Water. Auggie, bring your black bag. Please." The former Marine disconnected the call and continued to listen in on his children.

Sam's voice was on the verge of tears. John knew how his little one felt. "Dean you can't die. You are strong fight it. Fight it for me. Please." The eleven year olds words gave permission for the tears to fall. "Sammy I would do anything for you, including fight. My body might not be as strong as my will." All the Winchester's sniffled. "It has to be." The words were said with such confidence all three Winchester Boys believed them.

John headed to the truck. Ten minutes later he knocked on their door with a few things he hoped would help his courageous and scourged son. After the father slowly opened it he found his youngest holding on tight to his oldest.

"Sam, do you think you could go get your brother a glass of warm water." Brown green eyes locked on him, wordlessly saying, "If you think I am going to leave him, go fuck yourself." "I have some medicine that will help him. Please son, you have my word I won't hurt your brother."

Sam's face hardened. Boy had the Winchester bravado he had to give him that. The eleven year old looked at Dean. "Go ahead Sammy. Dad ain't gonna raise his hand to me." The father swallowed at the fact his eldest didn't say wasn't going to hurt me. Sam climbed out of bed and quietly headed to the kitchen.

"How ya doing Imp?" John tentatively asked his son. He didn't know what he thought using Imp would do, but it didn't help. Dean gave him a look that trumped Sam's. "You left me, left me to die. Hitting me, I earned it. Whipping me, I deserved it. But leaving me to die, why? If you don't love me anymore. Wouldn't it be easier to just leave one night and never come back?" Before the embattled father could answer his younger son came back with the water.

Dean focused on his cool brother extraordinaire. The floppy hair one helped his bestest brother sit up enough to get the pills and water down. "Thanks Sam." John could hear the fluid in his son's lungs rattling around. The older sibling knew he needed to talk with his Dad. He didn't think he would last the night and he and his Dad couldn't leave things the way they were. There was Sammy to think about.

"Do me a favor Sam. Get me another pan." Tormented brown green eyes looked from Dean to John and back to Dean. Silent brother communication in action, again. The older brother nodded. The younger exited as silently as he came in.

His eldest son was the bravest person John knew. Dean Christopher Winchester would never shy away from anything. Death was looking him in the eye and he still wanted to make things right with his Dad. With leadened legs John got up and softly closed the door. As he was going to sit back down he heard Dean's sharp in take of breath. The kid's cough's sent shivers through the windows. John helped his son expel some of the fluid that had been sticking to his lungs.

When the spell had past he eased his boy back down to his side. There was no way Dean could lay on his back, not for a long time. It would be a longer time yet till the dirty blond could lie on it and not think about the whole Weeping Water incident.

"Dean, I was wrong. I should have never let you stay in the water as long as I did. I should have never thrown you over that rock. And I should have never left you. I should have never done a lot of things." Dean looked at him, his hazel eyes glassed over with fever and sickness. "Then why did you?" John ran a shaking hand over his face. "We both know it's been a long time son since I was the 'World's Greatest Dad."

The bed ridden son leaning on his side frowned at the memory the words 'World's Greatest Dad' brought to the forefront of his mind. Then he noticed his fathers trembling hand. He was too tired to argue too tired to wag war. He would die here in this fucking ugly cabin in fucking Nebraska. What had he ever done to this fucking state? Die… With a slightly muddled brain he wondered if there would be Angel's where he was going… "Never mind."

"Dean Christopher Winchester." The man half yelled. His child's face gave him a look that said, 'go a head hit me, just make sure you finish the job this time.' The heartbroken father sighed. "Son, I love you, beyond words and beyond measure." His boy's expression never changed, Mary's stone eyed look was staring him down.

"Oh hell Dean, I am not perfect. Last night I saw the flames and thought you were dead. Let's face it son our family doesn't have a good track record with fires." At that Dean's expression soften, a little. Still a little was better than impenetrable rock. "When Sammy starting walking straight towards it, my mind snapped. I couldn't see you, just your brother's expression of pure terror. By the time you charged the weeping woman, my heart had stopped."

Both riffle name bearing men took deep breaths. Dean's rattled like a death knell. John closed his eyes for a second he could not loose his Imp. His teenaged now, where had the time gone, warrior, was his heart and soul. "After that I became my father." The fifteen year old shuttered. Dean had met his grandfather, once.

"There is no excuse for any of what I did. I should have hulled you out of the water the minute you went under. You are more important to me than anything son, you have to believe me." His son's face changed when heard the desolate sadness in his father voice. "I do Dad. I do believe you. And I messed up. My eyes were off Sammy for a second and he moved. If I had followed your orders none of this would have happened. I deserved my punishment." Dean's face was back to impervious stone.

"Dean you did not deserve what happened. No you shouldn't have taken your eyes off your brother no he shouldn't moved. But I should not have handled it the way I did. There is a difference between discipline and violence. Your back wasn't a punishment it was brutality." Dean coughed again it took him longer to regain his breath this time.

"You made Sammy watch Dad." John ran a hand over the mountain of blankets covering his son. "So he would never disobey again. If he watched what would happen to you…" The father's voice trailed off. His boy was staring to shake again, almost to the point of convulsions. "Dean, look at me." His son's gaze focused on him. "I love you and I am sorry for the way I handled things. A lot of things."

His son swallowed a harsh breath. "Dad we all made mistakes. You have never abused us. In fact, I am sure there were times when I deserved a spanking and you just walked away rather than turn me over your knee. When you did paddle my bum it was so I would know how important what I had done wrong was. It's not the whopping it's you leaving me."

John reached for his son and held him as tightly as he dared without making his discomfort worse. "Dean when I realized what I was doing. I had to calm down before I killed you. Leaving. I don't know what else to say. I was wrong." At that Dean relaxed into his fathers embrace. "Dad I am sorry I messed up, if Sammy had…" The Dad rested his chin on his son's head, "he didn't."

Taking a calming breath the father talked on he knew his proud son wasn't going to like what he had to say. "I called a friend of mine Dean, he is going to come and take a look at you." The son leaned back and looked at his Dad. "Look at me?" His child was mortified at the thought.

John sighed, "We both know how sick you are. This is past my basic medical knowledge. You will like this man. His name is Mr. Matthews." "Yes, sir." His child's cadence was detached. The father shook his head he would let it go, "so Sammy patched you up?" John asked trying to keep his voice neutral. Judging by the shift his son gave it wasn't as neutral as he thought. "Yes, sir." 'Sir,' he sighed. The father made sure to make eye contact. "Dean, you don't have to call me sir."

John knew his son was worried that he was going to do something to Sam. The Dad sighed that would come later. Normally he wouldn't have let it go. As much as it would have pained him, he would have paddled Sammy but good the minute he returned. Never let it go that makes the punishment worse, that makes it torture. But this was a special circumstance. Dean had to be taken care of first.

"He cleaned it as best he could. Salved it down and covered it. We were more worried about keeping me warm." As if on queue Sam knocked on the door. "Come in Sam." The haggard father bid his son. The eleven year old walked in holding a pan with two potholders. The bedridden child looked at his Dad as if to say 'not now, please.' John nodded, 'no not now.'

"Thanks Sam. You're my cool brother extraordinaire, I couldn't ask for a better one." Dean might have said it as an icebreaker for the tension in the room. Didn't make the statement any less true. The brown haired brother went around the other side of the bed. He silently slid out the cold pan. Then just as quietly put in the warm one. The shivering teenager snuggled into the warmth.

"Dean, can I take a look at your back?" The father was afraid to look at Sam, the little one who was already so much like him. With a wrinkled nose and a cut open cheek the injured son said "Yes Dad." He slowly and with his father's assistance rolled over, leaning on the pan and a gazillion covers.

The former Marine eased his son's layers up and slowly pulled the now ruined Black Sabbath/Blue Oyster Cult from their appropriately named for the situation Black and Blue tour tee shirt down. John's hands shook when he saw what he had done. His valiant young man's skin was open and red in places. Welted and heavily swollen in others.

Mary and all the Angels would show him no mercy and none was what he deserved. Not since before his kid's ninth birthday had he hit his son without talking to him first. Even then that was one swat, granted full force but still it was through clothing. This he flayed his son's back open. He swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. Then he put the shirt and eighty million or so layers back. The father made sure Dean was comfortable kissed him on the forehead and left.

The twenty seven year old looked at his Angel. "Sammy stayed under the covers with me till Mr. Matthews came. Then he stood watch at the head of the bed." Something in her expression gave him pause. Sam had used that look many a time. "What?" He asked. "Nothing Kansas, nothing." Hum, nothing his ass. "Mr. Matthews was a very kind black man." Angel knew full well who Augustus Matthews was. 'Why had he not told her this?'

"Mr. Matthews asked me if I would mind him checking me out. He was so gentle with me. Without stripping me of my dignity. Until I meet you, I didn't know there were other people in the world like that." She swallowed reflexively and looked at his jacket.

"Thank you for the compliment Kansas. It means the world to me." Dean cocked his head and said "you are most welcome." Wordlessly he wondered if she used that phrase on purpose. Something was wrong he knew it. He also knew she was going to tell him jack. His Angel brought stubborn to a whole new level.

"Mr. Matthews was good to Sam too." The tracker of things that go bump in the night went back in time again. "Samuel, it appears you did a fine job keeping your brother from deaths clutches. Would you mind helping me?" Sam smiled at the man who was going to save his bestest brother and in what he hoped was a confidant voice replied. "Of course Mr. Matthews, what do you need me to do?"

"He had Sammy help me sit up. Oh I know it was just so that the kid would be able to stay with me. But it truly made me feel better to have Sammy with me. I didn't want to be alone with this strange man who was going to see that my father beat me so bad I needed stitches. Smart man Mr. Matthews he knew if Sammy were there then I would have some place to focus my attention."

Mary closed her eyes at the image that was flitting through her head. Stitching strap marks was nothing new to Augustus Matthews, nothing new at all. Dean took a sip of his cocoa and went back to telling his Angel about Mr. Matthews, "He took my pulse, then my temperature, listened to my heart and lungs."

Hazel eyes looked out the window. "The kind man told me my heart didn't have a normal rhythm." The hunter laughed. Sammy told him "that's okay Mr. Matthews nothing is normal about Dean." He grimaced, "Mr. Matthews smiled at my cool brother extraordinaire's quip. Still he went on to tell me it might not ever go back to beating normal. I told that was okay, nothing about me was normal. Then I winked at Sammy." Mary laughed.

"Those tasks completed, he asked me if I would mind him checking out my back. My Dad thought it might need stitches." His Angel smoothed her hand over the jacket, much like she would him during his initial rehab. She told him she was smoothing out his wrinkles. "I remember Mr. Matthews voice trembled a little when he told me I did." The brown eyed girl ran a hand over his long since healed back. The twenty six year old smiled at the unconscious gesture.

"Anyhow, later the following week I was allowed outside, liberated if only for a blessed little while." Dean sighed, "By that point I was experiencing a little cabin fever." She patted his jacket. "I wouldn't know anything about that." He chuckled. "So I can be a pain in the ass." His Angel raised an eye at him, "really, I hadn't noticed." Both Dean and his Angel laughed.

"When Dad came in my room and told me it was warm enough that afternoon to go outside, I wanted to kiss him. Then quickly before he changed his mind, I wrapped a blanket around my back and padded outside. Sam was waiting for us his brown green eyes happy to see me moving. The little shit prepared lunch and everything." Angel smiled at the look in his eyes. "Okay it was yogurt and crushed fruit. But still it was my first non chicken broth meal. It was heavenly."

Clad in two of his sibling's hand me down shirts Sam smiled at his big bro. "Dean, I thought you might like something almost solid. Am sorry its not steak and potatoes." The bestest brother reached over and squeezed Sam's shoulder, "dude its not chicken broth. I love you."

The younger brother chuckled at the almost glee in Dean's voice. "Mr. Matthews said to try a few bites and if it stays down, you can finish the bowl." With steady hands the fifteen year old picked up the bowl and did just that. "Thanks Sammy, Sam. It tastes so cool." The teenager said after swallowing a few spoon fulls.

John watched his boys, the ease with which they bantered and got on. He almost hated to break the moment, almost. "We need to talk boys." Two sets of big eyes swung towards him. Dean shifted in front of Sam ever so slightly. The older brother knew his little one's time had come. "Yes sir," was their unison response.

"Samuel..." The Dad could see the look in Dean eye's change. It could only be described as feral, which for the kid was a foreign look. Samuel meant only bad things. "I have talked to your brother and explained that what happened the night at the water was handled incorrectly. I have apologized to Dean and would like to apologize to you as well. My reaction to the chain of events that occurred was uncalled for. I should have never done what I did." John swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at his youngest.

"Sir." Was Sam's only reply. He watched Dean nudge his brother, Sam looked at him. They had an entire conversation without speaking, again. Not for the first time did he wish silent brother communication came with a translation manual for those not in the know.

"Sir, I apologize for breaking the rules. I should have stayed where I was. My brain kinda short circuited when I saw the flames at Dean's back. My only thought was for his safety. What would I do without him, sir?" 'What indeed?' The father thought. "I wish I could say I was sorry for the way I treated you that morning sir. But that would be lying and I don't want to add to my punishment." John smiled at his son's bravado. So did Dean. That part was obviously not rehearsed. "Fair enough Samuel. I appreciate your honesty. Apology Accepted."

John rubbed his face. He was not looking forward to what came next anymore than either of his boys. Sam looked him in the eye, the message was clear. 'I know what's in store and its okay Dad.' Punishment, it loomed above everyone's head. The great pendulum waiting to swing or John's arm as it were. Part of him didn't want too. Part of him knew he need too. Being a Dad wasn't easy.

"May I give Dean his present sir?" John sighed at the persistence of the word sir. "Sam, you don't have to call me sir, you can call me Dad. Yes, please give him his gift." The recovering teenager looked from his cool brother extraordinaire to his once trying to get there again 'World's Greatest Dad' to Sam back to John. The father nodded his permission to the moppet.

"Dean, Mr. Matthews said you were going to be cold for a long time. That you would need something to keep you warm. And that your back would take a while to heal and you would need to keep it padded." John swallowed another lump in his throat when Dean's brave façade cracked at that.

Sam didn't miss it either. "So anyhow, I begged Dad take me into Plattsmouth to get you…" The eleven year old handed Dean a box, wrapped of course. It might not have been the most important part this time. But tradition was tradition.

"Sammy you didn't need to get me anything. Dad was correct in saying he went about disciplining me the wrong way. But I broke the rules, I deserved my punishment. And I was the one that one head first into the coldest water known to Nebraska." Brown green eyes stared at his brother then at the box. Dean moved Sam's face so they were eye to eye.

John sighed audibly. Then said in a tone that his boys recognized as no nonsense, "Dean Christopher Winchester. You did not deserve the beating I gave you. Don't ever think you did. No one deserves to have their back flayed." Neither son missed their Dad's chocking on the word beating. Again two sets of eyes were wide staring at him. Something he couldn't name resonated from them. Something he didn't want to name. He still had Sam's punishment to met out.

"Please open the box Dean." The kid smiled a true smile the first one directed him in weeks. John sighed at the gesture. Quick fingers made waste of the paper and popped off the lid. When the box was open Dean started at his gift. A nice brown leather jacket. "Sammy, how did you?" Dean could not believe it. His brother knew how much he had wanted one. Every time they past a store window that had one, he would stop and look. It was one of the few things he would let himself dream about.

In a small voice the eleven year old replied to his sibling's question. "I used my allowance." Leaving one hand on the coat and putting one hand on his brother Dean said. "Dude, you must have used your whole savings. Even the emergency fund." 'Emergency fund?' John thought as he continued to listen to his boys talk. "Sammy I am not worth it." His father and brother cringed at the statement. "To me you are Dean. If I couldn't use it on you, than what or who then…"

John watched as his older son's eyes filled with tears, he pulled Sam into a hug. "You are my cool brother extraordinaire and I know I don't say it very often anymore. But I love you Sammy, you are the best person I know. Thank you, I will cherish it always."

The brown haired eleven year old hugged his brother as tight as he dared. "You are the bestest brother in the world and I love you Dean. You have no idea how much it hurt when I thought you… Besides you need stay warm and you will look totally cool. Chicks will dig you." All three Winchesters laughed at that. "Just don't leave me Dean." Sam said in such a small voice John barely heard him. 'Don't leave us Dean.' John echoed in his mind.

October 1, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

His Angel looked at him. "I would wager chicks do dig you in that coat." The twenty six year old smirked, his trademark smirk. "Damn straight woman." She looked at him with an emotion Dean hadn't scene in ages. He reached over and kissed her softly on her lips, not chastely thanks to earlier she knew the difference. The ladies man waited till she acknowledged the difference. "Thank you Angel. This coat means the world to me. Bloody and ruined it would have sat in my trunk."

"You do have more gifts you need to open." Dean held her face for a second longer. Then he draped the jacket around her shoulders. He moved back to his chair and went to open the other boxes. As he was ripping opening the paper for the next gift, his Angel warned him. "Now Kansas, please keep in mind we have lived together for months. You do the dishes, I do the laundry." He stopped just before he opened the lid. Raising his eyes he looked at her.

"I know you boys don't have a lot and what you do have comes by nefarious means and well I just thought you needed more than five pieces of clothes." Dean nodded in understanding. The gift giver had purchased him two new long undershirts, thermal at that. The other big boxes housed two new flannel over shirts one of them navy blue the other a deep red. Red, hum that was a new color for him. She also found him a couple of short sleeve tee shirts that were navy and gray. He laughed. "You are rather one tracked in your choice of colors." She laughed as she went on, "with the red I thought maybe we would expand your color repertoire.

When opened the first small box he could see her face change, living with someone in such small quarters for a season, you learned his or her expressions and mannerisms. It must be something special he thought. As he cracked the lid he could see it was another shirt, navy blue, he took and out of the box and turned it over, it white lettering was written, Kansas. Just like the one in the baby picture he had shared with her months ago. Only this shirt was sized to fit the current him.

"Angel, I'm woven in a fantasy, I can't believe the things I see. The path I have chosen now has led me to a wall. And with each passing day I feel a little more like something dear was lost. It rises now before me, a dark and silent barrier between all I am and all I would ever want to be…" The hunter touched his Angels hand across the table.

"It's a travesty, tower, marking off the boundaries my spirit would erase. To pass beyond is what I seek, I fear I may be to weak and those are few who've seen it through to the other side. The promised land is waiting like a maiden that is soon to be a bride. The moment is a masterpiece, the weight of indecision's in the air, it's standing there, the symbol and the sum of all that's me…" He squeezed the hand.

"It's just a travesty, towering, blocking out the light and blinding me. I want to see gold and diamonds cast a spell, it's not for me I know it well. The treasures that I seek are waiting on the other side. There's more that I can measure in the treasure of love that I can find…" Dean turned her hand in his entwining their fingers.

"And thought it's always been with me, I must tear down the Wall and let it be, in harmony shining true and smiling back at all who wait the cross. There is no cross." The Wall was his favorite song by Kansas despite his history with Wayward Son.

"Kansas," she was breathless. "You have an amazing voice. I mean I have heard you sing before, load of times, but this was. Wow you really know how to use your voice for the moment." He blushed, he was embarrassed.

"Thank you. Sammy used to say that when I would sing. 'You have an amazing voice.' It was one of the few things geek boy never joked about." The auburn haired girl was still over whelmed her normally vast vocabulary had been reduced to, "Wow, I just, its, wow."

The battler of evil smiled, "Thanks for the shirt. It means more to me than you will ever know." She smiled back, "I think I might have an idea." He knew she did. Something had changed. They went from one place to another.

The second small box housed two corded bracelets. Each held a bead on them, one was his grandmothers, Dean had told her it was a symbol he grandmother designed. The same symbol she saw at the bottom of the card from a young Sammy to his bestest brother. The other manly bracelet had a sunflower, the Latin word for peace and her protection sigil. "One can never have too much protection." Dean chuckled at the sincere sentiment. "No one can't."

"Angel. These are beautiful." She looked at her hands the emotion in the room was overwhelming. Neither safe house residents were very good at open displays of affection. "I hoped you wouldn't be mad that I went into your box without your permission and then had a hole put in your grandmothers bead."

Brown eyes stared at the beads, "You just told me you would run your fingers over it when things got bad. So I … There was a store on Mass that had the other one and I thought… If they were carved and what not… You might like another to remind of this place and …." The twenty seven year old kept her eyes locked on the bracelets. Dean moved to sit next to her again. "Mary, I am humbled at your generosity and kindness of spirit, will you help me put them on?"

"Chick flick." He looked at her. "This just got to the sappy part in the chick flick where we would groan and throw popcorn. Dean howled with laughter. "You mean like the time we watched, what was that show called the Guilt More Girls?" His Angel smiled, "you mean the Gilmore Girls?"

The manly man hunter chuckled, "Yeah that one. What was that episode we watched called?" She smiled at the twinkle in his eye. "Kiss and Tell. The one were Rory and Dean kiss." Dean smiled, "I could not believe how much that Jared Pad what a who looks like Sammy, same bad haircut and everything."

His Angel laughed, "Is that why you threw the popcorn?" "Hell no. I threw it cause if that was Sammy, he would have done a hell of a lot better job. And dudes name is Dean, he has a reputation to uphold. If you are going to kiss the girl, kiss her." Dean didn't think he liked the twinkle his Angels eye had taken on.

"What?" He questioned. "Nothing just thinking how funny it is that manly, man Dean likes the Guilt More Girls." In a low and consolatory voice he replied, "A fact you will share with no one." Mary put a finger to her lips and nodded her head. "No one."

When the task of hooking the protection carriers around his wrist was complete the five foot eight Covenant member smiled and said. "Okay, finite." "Your turn sweetheart." She looked embarrassed and didn't know what to do, which was strange. His Angel was almost never at a loss.

"Do I have to open them now?" His face fell, he had worked hard. The twenty six year old wanted his Angel to know how much he appreciated her. "You don't want to?" The girl realized her error. "Of course Dean, I am just not used to people gifting with things." He relaxed the tension that had suddenly taken up residence in his body and nodded his understanding. Dean sighed, "Gifts usually come with a price." Mary sighed and agreed, "Yes they usually do."

Dean was smug with pride at his presents. He was always a good gift giver. The girl with her feet tucked under her laughed at the first one. "Your black jacket? Are you sure?" He chuckled at her expression. "Sweetheart you have worn it more in the last few months than I have and besides, what would you do if it wasn't there to keep you warm?"

She thought about it. If she closed her eyes she could picture… No, she stopped herself. You can't think that way. When his Angel brought her attention back to Dean her brown eyes were twinkling, "Probably freeze to death. Thanks Kansas I will keep it clean and undamaged." She didn't say what she was thinking, he could tell. Hum…

He watched her expression closely at the next box. When she lifted the lid it took a moment for her face to register the contents, "How in all the stars above Kansas did you accomplish this?" "Trade." Was his simple answer and way too confident an answer. "Trade what?" Her Kansas didn't have too many things and what he did have he shouldn't be giving up for her.

"Angel, let a man have his secrets." His hazel eyes were laughing. "Kansas, wow. This is wow. My very own boots." "Sweetheart, I could not have you on a real job with me, in runners." Humph, was the only answer he got to that. 'Her very own boots.'

The following gift was a weapons cache. A nine millimeter with two kinds of ammunition, real and ghost. Three knives, all were hand carved. A holy water bottle, blessed rosary and lock pick set all of which was housed in a cottonwood box. She ran a hand over the engraving. A row of sunflowers. There was no doubt in her mind that Dean did the detail work himself.

"You shouldn't have." Eyes dancing with humor, "but I am glad you did. Now I will be a real hunter." With a calmness that humbled her Dean said, "Oh Angel, you will always be real to me. But will we ever be real to them?" The twenty seven year old swallowed, "Real isn't how you are made. It's a thing that happens to you…it doesn't happen all at once…it takes a long time…but once you become real you can't become unreal again. It lasts forever."

As she was sliding the wrapping of the next one, he was laughing. Good, he needed to laugh. Margery Williams's words were sad and very telling in theirs lives. And there would be enough sadness to come, humor is what they needed right now. Once she opened the present Mary could see why he was chuckling. A blue and white Kansas shirt, just like she had given him. "Great minds." They said in unison.

The last box was small. When she looked at Dean, his face was sober, no joking here. His Angel took her time opening it. When she did her heart stopped beating for a second. Then tears streamed down her cheeks. "Dean. I couldn't. I am very honored that you would want to but no." The brown eyed girl was up on off the couch before he could stay her.

"Mary, please." He called after her. She stopped where she was but didn't turn around. "You are my Angel. As you know this was my grandmother's talisman. I want you to have it, she will protect you. Remember you can never have too much protection."

The girl lowered her bun topped head in what might have been shame, "Dean I… this is a family piece." The patient man took a deep breath and continued "Mary, you are my family. You love me with the same unconditional love my grandmother did. Please." The bowed head sniffled.

Dean took the necklace out of it case. It was a silver Angel. The seraphim held a small heart with a rose carved on it. His Angel moved her head up as he hooked it around her neck. Then she turned to face him she reached up and touched his face with her hand. With eyes still bright with unshed tears she dropped her hand and hugged him. Not just a small hug, she squeezed him hard. He heard her voice from his chest region. "I will cherish it always Dean." He rested his chin on her head, "I will cherish you always Mary."

The barefoot twenty seven year old listened to the soothing sounds of Dean's heart. Before she pulled out of his embrace she softly kissed the rapidly beating area. Then in true deflection fashion she changed the subject. "What do you say we pack this stuff and hit the rack? 4:00am is going to come early."

The no longer wearing a tie Winchester rubbed her back. "Don't sweetheart." 'Sweetheart' turned her head and looked him dead in the eye. Her gaze unwavering and unnerving, her emotions were completely unguarded. "Don't play it down."

She gave a smile that ran from ear to ear. "Dean you are a good man." His Angel reached up on her toes and kissed his cheek. Much like she had many months ago on the veranda out back. Only this time peace wasn't the only thing it brought him. He moved his face till her lips were touching his, without thought or caution he kissed her, hard.

Fifteen minutes later they were ready for bed. She put her Kansas tee shirt on to sleep in. The wooer of woman felt like a dog for checking her out. His Angel normally wore that black tank top thing that kept her girl's strapped in. With this shirt though her girl parts were… The ladies man told himself he couldn't think like that.

He smiled as she climbed in the bed. The hunter turned the lights out. Then he lifted his arm, without anything she snuggled into his side. Wrapping his arm around her, he kissed her head she relaxed into him. "Good Night Mary." Then with boldness he didn't know she had in this area, she rolled over and looked at him. There was no mistaking that look.

4:00 am did in fact come early. The fast female was in and out of the shower in no time flat. Dean took a few minutes. This was going to be his last time showering in a real home for a long time to come. He loved this place. His Angel handed him the deed last night before she hopped into bed.

"Dean Christopher Winchester, land owner in the state of Kansas. Who knew? Seriously Kansas, now you will always have a place you can call home. Does this count as at least one point five out of four?" 'Oh Angel, two point five out of four.' He said to himself. To her with a levity in his voice, "Defiantly, maybe even one point seven five." He could not believe it, the whole thing was surreal. He was showering in his very own shower.

The homeowner took his time shaving too. He knew it was a psychological game to put off the inevitable. The two wayward strays decided last night to just hit the road with hot beverages, skipping breakfast. When he exited the bathroom his traveling clothes were on the bed. 'A road to no where, Always leads to Somewhere tee shirt, blue jeans and his beloved boots. "Thanks Angel." Dean said to an empty room.

After he had dressed he ran a hand over the bedding. This would always be their bed, not just his. Images flashed through his head. Their bed. Dean walked down the hall, taking in the details of his home one last time. His Angel was waiting outside, mugs in hand. She handed him his, he took it stored it in the Impala. She put hers in Miles.

The not so well rested hunter walked into the space separating their vehicles. The auburn haired girl walked up to him. Dean opened his arms, his Angel hugged him. He rested his chin on her head. They both looked at the Sunflower Cabin, their respective thoughts miles away and yet right there.

Then he moved his chin beautiful brown eyes looked at him. He reached down and kissed her. Not an innocent passing of the lips either. A real good old fashion never want to come up for air kiss. Dean could feel her shift. He picked her up and leaned her back on the Impala. Her legs wound around him tight.

When they finally separated he looked at her and let out a whistle. "Girl you game." The got game girl lowered her legs and put a hand on his. She looked behind him at the horizon in an effort to bring her breathing back to normal. When that was the case she hoped off the Chevy slapped his ass and alighted into Miles.

Dean slowly walked to her window lazily resting his arm on the frame. "Follow me sweetheart, it's about a twelve hour drive, we will break in six. Sound good?" "I'd follow you anywhere Kansas." Though Dean heard the joking in her voice he very seriously replied "I believe you mean that."

She rested a hand on his arm. "I'd follow you anywhere Kansas, even through the catacombs of hell." And that she would one day. The dirty blond leaned in grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her like he might never see her again. Which in fact in this light he wouldn't.

Back in his trusty Impala the Winchester hunter gunned the engine. He waved through the window at his traveling companion. She raised her eyebrows and smiled at him. He cocked his head in question. She just kept on grinning. When he turned on the radio he found out why. His Angel had made him a tape for the road. He tipped his imaginary hat at her. Then nodded to the radio. She looked down at hers then back at him. He raised his eyebrows and smirked.

Dean pulled out onto the road and pushed the tape in the player. …I was looking back on my life and all the things I've done to me. I'm still looking for the answers, I'm still searching for the key. The wreckage of my past keeps haunting me. It just won't leave me alone. I still find it all a mystery. Could it be a dream? The road to nowhere leads to me. Ozzy Osborne, Road To Nowhere. Great minds think alike.

Mary pulled out on the road after her Kansas and pushed her tape in the player. …Through all the happiness and sorrow. I guess I'd it all again. Live for today and not tomorrow. It's still the road that never ends. Ah ah. The road to no where's gonna pass me by. Ah ah. I hope we never have to say good bye. I never want to live without you. Ozzy Osborne, Road To Nowhere. Great minds think alike.

The ghost tracker had told the ghost talker what he told Sam. If you can't come up with the words chances are pretty good someone else has. Say it through music. …The road to nowhere leads to me.