Warning: mentions/implied non-con; hurt!dean
AN: The beginning part of the chapter is transitional...so bare with me...as it progresses we'll get to the good, emo stuff...
Also, thanks for the reviews last chapter!
This chapter: it's mostly about papa!winchester/protective!john
Dean stayed in the hospital an extra day. Her doctors thought some time with the counselor would be helpful and they wanted to make sure she could tolerate solids foods well.
Dean stood in front of the mirror in her room. She was dressed in a white t-shirt and loose, gray sweat pants. Her jeans felt too restrictive and she was still very sore. She glanced up and stared at her pale reflection for the first time since since her attack. Dean was still shocked to see a female version of himself. She grabbed a hairbrush and calmly brushed her shoulder length blond hair. Her eyes watered as she faced the uncertainty of what would happen next. So many questions and conflicting feelings swirled around in her head that it almost made her feel dizzy. She leaned over the sink and placed her hand to steady herself. She turned to the door after hearing a light knock.
"Hi, Dean." The counselor smiled as she walked in.
"Miranda." Dean answered.
"Big day, huh?" She walked over to her. Dean bit her lip and nodded her head as she looked down.
"It's normal to feel nervous." She tried to reassure Dean.
"Yeah?" Dean asked with hope in her voice.
Miranda nodded. "You still have a lot to deal with and you may feel that you're not sure how to pick up your normal routine again." Dean nodded but did not say anything. Miranda reached into her purse and pulled out a card. "When you settle in Michigan, I still suggest you find a counselor." She handed her card to Dean. "Until you find someone, feel free to call me. Anytime. My cell phone number is on the back as well."
Dean stood speechless for a time as she looked at the card. "I can't ask that of you." She reached to give it back.
"It's okay, Dean. Really. Keep it. Just in case."
Dean looked at it again. She gazed up and spoke quietly, with gratitude. "Thank you." She tried to keep the emotion from her voice.
"No problem." Miranda lightly patted Dean's arm. "You take care of yourself, Dean." She smiled and left the room.
Sam entered as the counselor left. "Hey." He said with a smile on his face. "Are you ready?" He walked over to the window sill and grabbed Dean's small bag.
"Yeah." She responded quietly as she slowly walked towards him. She still felt awkward with movement. Her nurse came into the room with a wheelchair.
"Well, this is it, Dean." She said kindly.
"What's that for?" Dean asked as she stared at the chair.
"We usually wheel patients downstairs upon discharge. Hospital policy." Dean slightly rolled her emerald green eyes, but complied. She said nothing as she traveled through the hospital. They reached the main exit and Dean saw her father's truck parked in front of the Impala. The nurse stopped the wheelchair and placed the brakes on. Sam helped Dean stand and walked her to the passenger side of the Chevy. Dean wanted to protest, but she realized that Sam was only trying to be helpful. Dean glanced at her father before sitting down. For a moment, she felt at peace when she caressed the worn leather seats of her beloved vehicle. That feeling was replaced by nervous flutters over what the future would hold.
Sam went over to talk to John briefly and then returned. He started the engine. "Ready, Dean?" The older Winchester gave her brother a small smile and with that, they began their journey to Michigan.
They took almost one week to drive to their destination. Driving was hard for Dean. She was still in a fair amount of pain and needed to rest often. Instead of the usual flea bag motels they were all accustomed to, John and Sam made sure Dean's accommodations were above the average. They never left her alone and Dean felt comforted by that.
The three felt relief when they pulled up to the house. It was a gray two story home and behind it was a large lake. As Dean stared at the body of water, she couldn't help but think of Lake Minotac. 'Hopefully there are no spirits in this water.' She thought to herself. Her internal monologue was interrupted by Sam calling her name. Dean followed the two inside the home. They stood in the rustic, spacious kitchen surveying the space.
"Pretty nice." Sam said quietly as he watched his Dad rustle through his bag. He took out an EMF detector.
"Just a precaution." John mumbled as he started walking through the entire home. After five minutes, he returned. "Okay the house is clean. We should unpack. Dean, you can take the bedroom down here and Sam and I can use the two upstairs."
Dean's eyes widened. She looked at Sam, but did not say anything. Sam spoke to John. "Why don't Dean and I take the ones upstairs, Dad?" Sam understood that Dean would not want to be on the first floor alone. He saw Dean let out a large breath.
"I just thought that you might not want to use the stairs, but that's fine." John replied. "After we get settled, I'll go find us some food." Sam nodded and grabbed his bag and Dean's and they proceeded up the stairs. They walked up slowly, to give Dean time to adjust. Mild pains shot through her and she panted a bit when they reached the top. The two bedrooms were across the hall from each other, with a bathroom at the end.
"Do you have a preference, Dean?"
"No." She replied as she entered one. She went immediately to the bed and sat down to rest. She wiped at the slight amount of perspiration on her brow. Sam placed her bag at the foot of the bed. His heart ached as he noticed how fragile she looked. All he wanted to do was take her into his arms and hold her. But, he was afraid.
Dean looked up and squirmed slightly at the scrutiny in which Sam watched her. She spoke quietly. "Thanks, Sammy."
His eyes warmed. "For what, Dean?" He asked and then took a chance and sat by her on the bed.
"For downstairs." She smiled sadly. "It's stupid, but..." She looked down at her lap.
"It's not a problem." Sam knew how much Dean did not like to admit any insecurities; he did not want her to feel self conscious. "I'd feel better if you were up here with me anyway." He smirked and laughed lightly when she grinned and elbowed him in the ribs.
The Winchesters fell into a routine after the first few weeks. Despite the fact that they had the money Sam and Dean earned from their job in Mason, California, John decided to get a job; he wanted the two to save the money to use when they resumed hunting. It was rare for them to stay in place for longer than a few days, so credit card scams would be less successful. John worked at a small garage in town as a mechanic during the week. During the evening and on weekends, he and Sam researched Dean's gender change. He also used his time off to reconnect with his children as well. He and Sam had come to somewhat of an understanding. He realized they would never see eye to eye on many things. But, the one subject they agreed on was Dean.
Dean. John sighed when he thought of his eldest. He still wasn't sure how to deal with this. Dean's once cocky exterior had vanished all together. In its place was almost a shell of what he used to be. Dean was now sullen and quiet. John was not sure if it was the combination of the gender change and the subsequent trauma that produced the Dean that he and Sam saw everyday. Most attempts at conversation with her were one sided at best. She spent a lot of time sleeping. When they arrived, she was excited at the prospect of cable television, so she often sat in the den in front of the TV. When she was in the mood for fresh air, Dean lounged outside on a bench facing the lake.
Sam had tried to convince Dean to see the local counselor, but Dean refused. In fact, she would not even leave the house. One night, they had suggested going to town for dinner, but she brushed off those requests. John and Sam felt helpless as they watched Dean.
John walked into the kitchen after work to find Sam cleaning the dishes from dinner.
"Hey." Sam said quietly.
"Hi." John said. "Sorry, I'm late."
"I left dinner in the fridge for you."
John's stomach rumbled. He roughly opened the refrigerator and grabbed the plate of spaghetti. He removed the plastic wrap and stuck it in the microwave. As he waited for the timer to ring, he turned to his youngest.
"Did Dean eat?" John asked with concern in his voice.
Sam shrugged. "Barely." His shoulders showed his tension. "She went to bed early. She seemed really tired tonight." John had no response. The story always seemed the same. Sam turned to face his father; his eyes full of pain. "She's not getting better."
John twirled the pasta on his fork, but made no move to place it in his mouth. "I know, Sammy." John reluctantly admitted, feeling like a failure.
"She's got to see a counselor, because she won't talk to me about it." Sam continued as he rubbed his eyes vigorously. He felt emotionally exhausted. John looked up and noticed the fragile state of his youngest.
"Things will eventually get better." John tried to reassure him.
"I don't know anymore." Sam nearly whispered. He wanted so badly to help her, if she would let him.
"We just have to try harder to get her to see someone." He paused. "As far as her change, there are scores of demons who have the capability to change gender. Without much more to go on, it's like finding a needle in the haystack." Sam looked as if he was about to cry. "Sammy, why don't you go get some fresh air. You've been couped up all day. Okay?"
Sam nodded absently. "Actually, we need some food. Why don't I go to the store?" Sam grabbed the keys to the Impala and went towards the door.
"Sounds like an idea." John answered as he turned his attention back to his food. He ate quickly an cleaned his dish. Times like these, he wished he still drank. The oblivion he could feel after some Jack Daniels sounded appealing right now. But, he did not want to go down that road again. His children deserved better.
He returned to his room and showered. He felt refreshed as he reentered the kitchen. He sat down with his journal and some demon reference books. After some time, he stopped. He thought he heard a noise. He brushed it off, but then he heard it again. He got up and realized it came from upstairs.
Dean shifted restlessly in her sleep as the nightmare occupied her sleep. She panted and began to sweat at the images assaulting her. "No...no..." she moaned in her sleep. "Help me...help me..." Her voice began to rise. "HELP ME! SAMMY! PLEASE!" She shook violently.
At the sounds of her screams, John bolted up to her room. He ran into the dark room and tried to calm her down as he grasped her shoulders. "Dean! Wake up!" He said forcefully.
Her eyes were clenched shut as her head rolled back and forth. "No! No!" Her eyes shot open as she realized someone was holding her arms. "NO!" She shouted as she used her legs to kick whomever it was in the chest.
John fell onto the floor. Dean scrambled from the bed and reached for a hunting knife she placed on top of the drawer. She went to the corner of the room and held the knife in front of her with shaky hands.
"Dean." John stood and tried to calmly speak. He could make out her silhouette in the moonlight. She was panting wildly and her eyes were closed. "It's me...your father." He leaned closer as he heard her mumbling.
"Christo...christo...christo..." She muttered under her breath as her fear continue to grip her.
"I'm not a demon, Dean." John replied. "You're safe...nothing will get you here." John knew Dean's attackers were human, but he made sure to salt all the windows to reassure her that this house was a safe haven. "I'm going to turn the light on." He told her every move he would make. After illuminating the room, he saw her crouching in the corner, still holding the knife. "Open your eyes, Dean."
"Don't touch me...don't..." Her voice was unsteady and broken." "I-I'll kill you first..." She whispered.
John took a chance and knelt in front of her. He saw her trying to plaster herself even more against the wall. "Open your eyes, Dean. You're safe."
Dean slowly fluttered her eyes open. Her focus still seemed a little off. It took some time, but then she realized she was staring into her father's concerned eyes.
"Give me the knife, Dean." John said softly and extended his hand.
Dean looked down at the knife and eventually handed it over to him. Her voice hitched and she began to cry. John leaned forward and embraced her. He sat back onto the floor and held onto her tightly as he cradled her in his lap.
"It's okay..." He said as he gently stroked her hair. "It was just a bad dream." He closed his eyes. He had not held Sam or Dean like this since they were young children.
Sam walked into the kitchen with grocery bags tow. He saw no activity, just his dad's journal spread out onto the table. He looked in the den and his dad's bedroom, but did not find him. He heard some muffled noise and journeyed upstairs. He stood at Dean's door.
"It was just a bad dream, Dean. They can't get you anymore." He kept saying as he slowly rocked Dean back and forth. She was still sobbing as her head lay on his chest. He waited for her to start to calm.
Sam's heart broke as he watched the scene before him. He was so worried about Dean and a little confused. A jealous feeling enveloped him as he saw his father embracing her. He shouldn't feel like that; he was ashamed to even have those thoughts. He tried to shake them away.
John continued to speak to Dean. "I'm going to get up, Dean." He maneuvered in a way that he stood up with her petite body still enveloped in his arms. He walked over to her bed and placed her back in. He sat down on her bed and he placed her comforter over her; he smiled as he gently wiped her stray tears. "It was just a dream." His low voice reiterated. Dean nodded her head slightly. "Why don't you try to go back to sleep."
Dean's green eyes still shone with unshed tears. She looked up at her dad and whispered, her voice slightly slurred from fatigue. "Can you stay...until..." She hated the weakness she showed, but felt comforted that her father was there.
"Of course." John stood and walked over to grab the chair at the small desk. He placed it next to her bed and sat down. When she was sure John wouldn't leave, Dean turned her body away and curled into the fetal position. Hopefully sleep would come soon.
John waited until he was sure Dean was in a deep sleep. He turned the light to the lamp on and shut off the overhead one. If she had another bad dream, he did not want her to awaken in the dark. He returned to the kitchen to find Sam there drinking some coffee. John walked towards the counter and poured himself a cup. He placed the mug down and placed his arms on the counter. All of a sudden, he felt rage within him. He turned quickly to Sam and spoke in a low, menacing tone. "Are you sure the police got all those fuckers?" The look in his eyes even scared Sam for a moment.
"Yes. Dean ID'ed three men and that's how many they shot and killed in the raid."
"Because I swear to God, if they were alive...I'd hunt them down myself and kill each and every one of them...slowly...painfully..." John was seething. He took some time to calm himself.
John cleared his throat. "We have to talk to Dean tomorrow. Something has to give. She can't go on like this." Sam nodded in agreement.
TBC...