"There's nothing so terrifying in the world as a son. The relation of father and son is the darndest, awkwardest---"

-Thornton Wilder, Our Town

Chapter Fifteen - Bermuda Triangle

Within hours of Dean realizing he was going to survive, he was also forced to acknowledge his family was not, as all Hell broke loose. Sammy was leaving, John was furious and Dean was again trapped between the two people he loved most in this world. He was once more expected to be mediator and separate the two petulant children who refused to play fair. Talk about stuck between a rock and a hard place!

Each expected him to side with them on the side of right, their right. Each counted on his undying loyalty and condemnation of the other party's wrongs. Each was unwavering in the certainty they were totally right and their opponent was absolutely wrong. They each presumed he would choose them. Like Hell!

He had just been dragged literally from the precipice of death and had spent two weeks recuperating only to be embroiled in another one of their mammoth fights. Damn, why can't they just leave me out of this for once?

Once the verdict was in that Dean would survive, the temporary truce between his dad and his brother vanished like the last college virgin on a spring break trip to Rocky Point. Sam's anger at his dad had finally eased his hesitation at revealing his college plans. Of course, tact was not part of the plan when he exposed his secret.

His fury compelled him to barrage his dad with his devastating news in the most spectacular manner. Sam took a certain perverse pleasure in inflicting whatever pain he could on his neglectful and lacking father. He looked at all the pain Dean had gone through and he wanted his dad to suffer likewise, never mind that John had suffered just like Sam in witnessing Dean's agony. Sam in his youth, refused to acknowledge that. No, Dad needs to pay.

Of course, the real one to suffer was again Dean. He was thrust between the only people he had to love and stand by. For the umpteenth time, the two most important people in his life were at each other's throats, forcing him to again bear witness to their own private war, Dean's own private hell.

He had barely survived his ordeal with the werewolf bite and was still slowly regaining his strength when he was again pulled into another fight. Since returning home, their constant battles over the past week had drained what little energy he had managed to reclaim. His weary mind was desperate for relief. The loud noises and unrest of their fights filled their small house with a constant, devastating sense of dread. Please, just give me some calm before they start in again….

"Might have known you'd leave the first chance you got." John yelled, throwing his beer can across the room, missing the garbage can as it hit the rim and bounced out, rolling across the floor and coming to rest against Dean's foot.

"Why would I want to stay here? You bet I want out." Sam shouted back, his eyes filled with hatred and unbridled fury.

"You always were weak. Should have known you'd quit. You don't have the guts to fight this war. You just gonna run off and live a normal life? You gonna desert your brother when he needs you most?"

"He needs to leave, that's what he needs. You almost killed him. Why won't you let him go before you succeed?"

"He knows the job we have to do. He knows what's important. You're the one running away. You're the one who won't accept what we're doing here."

"Yeah, right. We're chasing a demon that hasn't been seen in twenty years. You seek out evil, and you put Dean in danger every time you do. You just can't wait to get yourself killed, and now you want to take your son down with you. I'm not going to stay here and watch that."

"That demon murdered your mother. That demon is the one you should hate. That demon is the reason we live like this."

"Yeah, sure. The demon makes us drive all over the country searching out evil. The demon makes us race into danger and risk our lives every day. Yeah, the demon almost got Dean killed. You keep telling yourself that, if that's what it takes to let you sleep."

"Dean can leave any time he wants. I've never forced him to stay and fight with me. Dean? You want to leave with your brother?" John stared at his older son, standing in the shadows silently observing this latest altercation.

"Dean, please come with me. I don't want you to die. You have a second chance now, please Dean. For me."

Here it was again. They both looked at him, their eyes pleading for his words of support, their hearts certain he would pick them over the other. He was so weary of their struggles, their constant head butting confrontations. He loved his brother above all others and it was his job to protect him. He had been fulfilling that duty since he was four. How could he let his brother go out alone into that cruel world unprotected and vulnerable? How could he surrender his post?

Then he gazed at his dad, so defiant, so impenetrable, so rigid and so God Damn sure of himself and the righteousness of his mission. The truth was Dean still believed in the mission, he knew what evil dwelt in the darkness and he knew the horrible things it would do if no one defied it. He realized few believed in the true depths of evil and fewer still would actually take up arms against it. He knew they fought a just and honorable war. We do make a difference Sammy, even if you refuse to believe it.

He knew his dad would self-destruct without him by his side. He was sure that on his own he would be reckless, rushing headlong into the first dangerous situation that presented itself. He knew without his family to reaffirm his humanity he would have no reason for caution or restraint and would only succeed in getting himself killed on one of his unholy missions. Of that he was certain.

If he could split himself in two he would stand by both his brother and his dad. After all that had been his true purpose all these years, to protect the two people he most loved and treasured, to protect his family. Maybe that was the solution, maybe that was what he himself needed. Oh, if it were only possible….

The strong, determined and brave Dean would go with Sam to protect and keep him safe as he ventured out into the harsh reality of this world, therefore fulfilling the first obligation of his life. Protect Sammy.

That left the sensitive, scared four year old child to stay with Dad, to finally seek out his dad's approval and reassurance. Perhaps with Dad's long overdue love and attention he could complete his journey, and shed his childhood trauma and grow into the man he was meant to be. He could at long last fulfill his true potential.

Then maybe I could relieve that pit that lingers in my gut, that doubt that won't leave me the hell alone, forever reminding me I'm not as confident as I try to make the world and myself believe. Forever reminding me I can't shake that four year old kid as hard as I try.

Once he had accomplished this amazing feat, then at long last the two Deans could once more merge and he would be complete for the first time in his life. The façade he had so carefully crafted over all these years could at last fall away and the real man could emerge. A man not fearful of who he is, a man not scarred from all the pain in his past. A good man, a whole man.

Faced with the harsh reality and unable to accomplish this division, he gazed on his family members who both needed his allegiance and wanted his devotion, and were both adamantly unwilling to share. His mind agonized, conflicted in the knowledge he could not be all things to both of them. He was after all just one man. One tired, torn, emotionally devastated man, still too exhausted from his recent ills to referee their battles any longer.

The choice before him seemed impossible, how could he choose one over the other? His soul was ripped in two, his mind weary once more from the weight of this decision being forced upon him. Just leave me out of it. Just let me be.

The tightness in his chest constricted his muscles and made breathing increasingly difficult. He tried to still his anxiety and the panic from not being able to breathe, yet the more he tried the harder it became. Soon, he was gasping for air, his lungs completely cut off from the oxygen supply. His eyes fluttered before rolling back and closing, the black void overtaking him. The dark abyss at last claiming victory as it grabbed him and pulled him under.

He sank into an unconscious state, a peaceful, tranquil place where angry words and slamming doors no longer existed. Serenity wrapped her comforting arms around him and gently rocked him, as his family's turmoil vanished like a ship in the Bermuda Triangle. He felt his body rolling with the waves of the ocean, just floating free without a care in the world, such an unknown sensation, a brand new experience.

After years of upheaval and turmoil he finally had found peace. He realized he had not felt a calm like this since before his mom was taken and he liked this feeling, he reveled in it. It was a pleasant release from the cares and worries of his life, just like he had felt when he had finally let go and accepted his death, all pain washed away.

He drifted free and unencumbered for what seemed an eternity, just floating peacefully atop the waves. His breathing once more easy, his mind uncluttered with concerns and strategies for the battles of this earthly world, all responsibility lifted off his strong yet increasingly weary shoulders.

This was nice. He was finally allowed some peace and quiet, the loud shouts and angry gestures no longer the focus of his attention. He was finally free to ponder pleasant pursuits, finally free to wonder about the beauty he had experienced as the werewolf bite heightened his senses, before he was plunged to near death. The beauty of this world once more a source of comfort and joy.

John panicked as his older son slid down the wall, coming to rest on the floor, his eyes closed, his body just sitting casually against the wall. He half expected another seizure to start racking his son, the stillness and peaceful expression on Dean's face startling him when it appeared as if he was merely sleeping. However, strong arms on his shoulders failed to wake him, and the deathly still that now filled the room unsettled him more.

Sam rushed to his brother's side, worried this was yet another side effect of his recent troubles, concerned he had once more overdone it and relapsed back into his werewolf illness. Sam shook his brother, pleading with him to wake up, to come back to them, to not do this to them again. Don't do this to me Dean.

Yeah, here we go again. Everything always comes back to you, doesn't it Sammy? The world revolves around Sam. Can't I just check out for a while? Can't I please just have some time for Dean? I just need this time far from the hurricane, just leave me alone. Let me be.

Loud voices invaded his peaceful tranquility; rough hands manhandled his body, insistent words pleaded for his return. He fought the voices, not wanting to surrender his calm, not willing to be thrown back into the maelstrom of one more Winchester gale force.

All his attempts to remain free were ultimately in vain, as the pain of his family's struggles once more threatened to overtake him. His respite shortened by their insistent pleas.

Panic again swept over him as he realized he was adrift in the ocean miles from shore, his ship having sailed without him. His feet suddenly heavy like anchors dragging his head beneath the water. He struggled to tread water, the weight of his jeans soaked in salt water pulling him down even further. He was gasping for air, water now filling his lungs. He was drowning, desperately struggling for life once more.

Then he heard the foghorn, loud and obnoxious in his ear, fresh waves splashed against his face from the wake of his ship returning once more to recover the man overboard.

"Son, breathe. Dean, do you hear me?" John's voice was strong and deep. The husky vibrations emitting from his throat rumbling over him like a ship's horn in the deepening fog. Dean gasped as stale air expelled from his lungs and fresh air was pulled in. His eyes opened in the eye of the hurricane. The gale winds temporarily calm, waiting for him to regain his bearings before tossing him back into the category five storm of the Winchester's clash.

"Yeah Dad. I hear you."

Don't you know, I always hear you. I never had a choice before. It's what I've always done. I'd hear you and I'd obey. I gave you my heart, my soul, my very essence and a part of me died a little every day from my devotion to you and your crusade. I didn't have the luxury of leaving, of living my own life. I've always been the dutiful soldier, ready once more to wage war.

Dean closed his eyes again and a slight sigh left his lips, as a great weight lifted off his shoulders, his future apparent at last. A faint memory glimmered in his mind, words from a faraway dream suddenly crystal clear in his thoughts.

"And you love it."

"Yeah…., it makes me feel important. Like what I am and what I do matters."

"So Dean, you love your life?"

"Yeah, I guess I do."

Finally, his future was set. He now knew his path, his choice. I took the path less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.

I will continue to wage war, cause now I choose to. This is my calling, this is my destiny and I will follow it. I will fight evil as long as I hold breath. This is my war.

Dean again stepped into formation. His decision clear, his choice made. He was a soldier in a war. A war not of his making, but he had been drafted into it, and henceforth it became his war. He had a duty and he had a purpose. He took a certain pride in performing his duty, in doing his job. He once more donned the uniform and mustered out.

"Dean, what happened?" John asked, his voice almost tender, concern registering in his broken words.

"Just overdid it I guess. Room started spinning, guess I should have passed on that beer. I'm all right now. No worries." Dean replied, his confident grin once more in place, again at ease with who he was and where he was headed.

"Dean, you sure?"

"Yeah Dad, never better."

"Dean, won't you come with me? Please?" Sam begged once more, desperately searching his brother's face for a sign of encouragement.

Just the knowledge that Sammy wasn't leaving him, that his brother wanted him to come too, made his decision slightly easier to bear. His brother and he were just different, and he had to accept that. Sam had his road to travel and he had his own.

"Sorry Sammy, that's a negative. My duty's here. I've got a job to do."

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Thank you again for the positive response to this story. It is greatly appreciated. This has probably been my most difficult, yet satisfying writing experience. I truly believe the extra pressure of trying to live up to your expectations elevated my writing and gave me the courage to stretch my skills and strive for more. Thanks to all, B.J.

One final chapter to go.