December 21st, 2004

The blaring voice of the early morning talk show host playing from the alarm at 6:00 AM woke Dean with a jolt; causing the hunter to flight out of bed. Not seeing anyone the hunter relaxed letting the knife slide through his fingers and land on the bed. He looked to the window on the left-hand side of the room, the morning sky was still dark and covered in stars. Dean turned and silenced the alarm and ran his fingers threw his short blond hair pulling it slightly.

His headache which was a dull ache the night before had turned into a slightly more prominent pounding that corresponded with the pain pulsing through his shoulder and ankle. Dean was not a morning person, even though he had a lifetime of practice with John and Sam who had gotten him use to the terrible exorcise. However, when he was alone, he never bothered waking up before the sun especially after a job. He kicked himself now for not maintaining the routine because every movement felt like he was slogging through cement, but that also might be partly due to the headache.

He walked to the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror feeling like a walking corpse. Sighing he started brushing his teeth and washing his face, feeling the excitement start to go through him again. Finishing in the bathroom he grabbed his bag and stepped out in the cold Texas morning. The brisk air freezing out the last vestiges of sleep that still clung to his mind. Starting Baby, he smiled as the car's masterpiece of an engine revved to life and Dean felt the vibration in the steering wheel. The funk he'd been in the day before quickly disappearing. He put the car into reverse and backed out the parking lot, driving alongside the key drop happy to be out of the shady odd smelling hotel.

The trip out of Texas went without incident; Dean always thought Texas had the best roads, smooth and straight he let Baby fly 85 to 90 mph while listening to the greatest hits of Metallica. Singing, playing air guitar, and truly having a great time, he rolled into Oklahoma slowing baby down to 65mph. The headache he had leaving the hotel had never gone away, but it wasn't exactly getting worse either. Something he was very thankful for because Sammy wasn't the only one who had bitchin headaches. John had told he and Sam that they were from Mary's side of the family, and he told them that she'd get them real often.

This seemed to be the case for her boy's as well; Dean got them frequently all throughout school. Tell finally the school nurse at a high school in Mississippi where Dean and Sam had gone for three months got fed up and sent Dean home with a note for John explaining that Dean was in desperate need of something to help his 'migraines' as she put them. Exasperated that this was the first time he had heard of his son having headaches he took the stubborn kid to the doctor; that is after giving him the riot act about not telling him about the problem sooner. An hour later Dean walked out of the doctor's office behind a fuming John Winchester, embarrassed with a new bottle of pills that should hopefully fix the problem.

Sam's headaches also started around high school but never seemed to be as big of a pain-in-the-ass as Dean's were, and for that dean was grateful. But from then on John was a lot more careful around Dean; he spoke softer and did not ask as much from him when it came to taking care of Sam. This was bittersweet for the young hunter, even though the stress of school, hunting, and Sam had contributed a great deal to his 'little problem' as he referred to it in his head; he also felt like he was being demoted. Almost like his dad didn't trust him anymore to take care of everything. Logically, he knew that he was being kind of insane he was 16, too young to be worrying about all of this stuff while he was technically a kid, but on the other hand Dean knew he had not been a kid since his mom died on the ceiling.

Dean shook his head; the thought about the whole mother dying but leaving him with a chronic genetically predisposed condition sucked ass in his mind. The pounding in his head increased despite the Excedrin, he had taken 85 miles ago when he had crossed into Kansas. His head was even making more noise than his real injury's that were visible.

"Isn't that just a bitch?" He said out loud with a mix of gallows humor and dread.

Staring blankly at the rolling plains of central Kansas, Dean felt his eyes start to become more sensitive to light; he reached for his shades on the dash and slid them on. Dean past another hour and a half like this only feeling his headache slowly creeping toward a more painful level; making Dean feel slightly nauseous as he passed into Nebraska.

Dean like Nebraska, it was gorgeous in a very simple way. Sparsely populated, and full of wide-open rolling hills and sporadic trees. It was too bad he was throwing up in the nicely maintained ditch wreaking havoc on the serenity of the landscape. All because of a stupid little headache or 'migraine' as his brother and dad liked to call them – but he always that that name was stupid… they weren't that bad really.

He heaved again. And again. And again, tears streaming down his cheeks at the sledgehammer colliding into the spot above his left eye. He felt so damn useless as his vision swam and his stomach churned, he was just being a wimp, it was just a headache, just some stupid stuff misfiring in his brain. He was just being ridiculous, and at this moment he didn't blame his dad for ditching him.

Once Dean and John parted ways, and Sam wasn't there to pester Dean about taking his migraine meds anymore, he'd stopped. Although in his defense he didn't think he needed them anymore after going a whole two weeks without any problems. Plus, he felt like such a loser having to carry around pills; but that thought had been just idiotic – foolish. Here he was two hours away from Bobby's and he had fallen on the last hurtle because he thought taking pills was a bigger weakness then being so sick, he couldn't move off the side of the highway. If this wasn't the most Winchester thing in the world Dean didn't know what was.

Dean spit feeling the self-awareness of the whole matter crush into him as he finished another round of dry heaves. Then he thought about Bobby waiting for him; eager to see one of the few people that he could consider family. Dean sat back in the ditch, leaning his head against the cold passenger fender of the Impala, wiping his face off with his sleeve.

With the thought of Bobby on his mind he slowly got to his feet, swaying slightly, letting his head rest on the roof of baby for a solid minute. The cold metal roof pushed the piercing pain in the left side of his face back. Carefully he straightened and walk back to the driver seat of his car. Sliding into the seat he let his eyes close and he took a few slow breaths blindly reaching for the sunglasses he'd thrown off as he raced for the door to throw up. Finding them, he slid them on and cracked open his eyes, finding the little light that the evening had left still hurt like a bitch.

"Come on Dean, for Bobby, and a nice bed." Dean mumbled softly to himself starting the Impala, shifting her into gear and navigating her back onto the highway.

-#-#-#-

To say Bobby was looking forward to seeing Dean was an understatement; for the first time in several years – since the boys were kids Bobby found himself breaking out some of the old Christmas decorations out of the attic. Not a tree or anything that fancy but he'd found a Nativity seen that his wife bought for their first Christmas together and set it up on the dining room table.

He also found a few red ribbons that he tied to several African talismans that were sitting in the corner; this gave somewhat of a mixed result when it came to adding a holiday vibe to the room. The carved faces that already looked in pain, looked even worse and less inviting when they were bedecked with red ribbons tied around their necks. Bobby shrugged it off however, thinking that a little something was better than nothing.

Dean said he'd be leaving from Dalhart, Texas. Which should take Dean about twelve hours to get here. Bobby chanced a glance at the clock which read 7:38 PM. Surely the boy will be here soon, I better get to making dinner. If he isn't here by 8:30 I'll call the idjit and find out what the holdup is. Bobby thought walking to the kitchen to make some ham and cheese sandwiches and let Rummy his sleepy old rottweiler out in the scrap yard for the night.

Rummy's deep barks cut through the silence that had fallen over Bobby, who just finished washing the butter knives he used to add mayonnaise and mustered to the sandwiches. Not long after the barking Bobby heard the familiar growl of Dean's Impala roll into his driveway. He let out a sigh of relief that he hadn't realized he'd been holding for the last 20 minutes. The engine outside turned off and he heard the doors of the car open and shut. He hurried to the front door and swung it open wide letting the December cold hit him full force, there he was halfway between the Impala and the porch Dean Winchester, and wasn't he a sight.

"You look worse than the last ghost I took care of." Bobby said taking in the terrible appearance of his all-but-in-blood nephew.

Dean was pale as a ghost as he limped into Bobby's house with a duffel bag full of clothes; the freckles on the boy's face stood out in sharp contrast with the paper white of the rest of him, dark bags hung under exhausted looking eyes. Hell looked prettier than Dean did. Dean tried in vain for a half convincing smile as he set his duffel bag by the couch, but it was a rather feeble attempt.

"Hey, Bobby it's good to see you." Dean said hugging the older hunter – Bobby hugging back; alarmed to feel the slight shaking of the young man underneath his arms.

"What's wrong with ya son?" Bobby asked softly after Dean hadn't let go. Dean just shook his head slightly letting go of Bobby.

"It's nothing Bobby just a headache." Dean said voice quieter than normal.

Bobby shook his head; he knew all too well about Deans headaches. He'd had a crash course in them one time he was supposed to be keeping an eye on them for John. Dean got a bad one that left him sick for a week, and left Bobby running around like a chicken with his head cut off for several days. If he didn't have Sam when all that went down, Bobby didn't know what he would have done; probably taken the boy straight to the hospital then gone to find John and tell him his son was dying.

"Then you best be off to bed; I'll bring up some stuff in a bit." Bobby said walking to the linen cabinet, pulling out a blue washcloth and listening to the other man's slow footsteps climb up the stairs while he did so. They stopped when Bobby reached the medical cabinet on the other side of the house, quickly Bobby pulled out a bottle of Icy Hot and a bottle of Excedrin that he had bought specifically for the boy and followed the young man up the stairs.

Dean didn't even bother to take off his boots, instead opting to just lay face down on the comforter and bury his head into the pillow. Bobby hated to make the young'in move, but he needed to get him sorted out. Placing the supplies on the bedside table, he made quick work of pulling the young man's boots and socks off his feet; Dean not even seeming to care, still lying on his stomach. One of Dean's ankles was slightly swollen but didn't seem to be bad.

"Pull yer shirt off for me and take these." Bobby asked softly.

Dean just grunted, and still lying down he sluggishly pulled off both his over shirt and undershirt, leaving him just in his jeans. He stuck out his hand and Bobby dumped three of the pills from the bottle in his palm and before Bobby could give him a glass of water Dean swallowed all three pills dry.

"One these days yer goin' to choke on those things donin' it like that." Bobby said still pushing the glass of water in the worn-out looking kids' hand and placing the pill bottle back on the table.

Dean just hummed while drinking the glass of water, dropping his head back on the pillow and handing the glass back. Bobby just snorted dropping the cold damp wash cloth on top of Deans head knowing the young man would move it were he wanted it. Lastly, Bobby grabbed the Icey Hot and squirted a liberal amount between Deans shoulder blades and quickly rubbed it in around his neck and shoulders; before smearing a little on both sides of the boy's jaw.

"That should take care of it. Need anythin' else?" Bobby asked turning to head out of the room.

"No. Thank you. I'm sorry bout this Bobby" Was the muffled reply from the kid as Bobby turned off the light.

"Don't be son, everything's okay." Bobby said heading downstairs to eat his share of the sandwiches; before heading to bed himself.

Okay folks, more is in the pipeline, the way the story is planned out is there will be a chapter for each fictional day until the 26th of December. Please let me know what you think about it.