AN: We've come to the end of another one! It's been a fun ride for me and I'm glad you took it with me.

Thanks always to Janice, a hydra-slaying superhero in real life. (In the beta sense, anyway.)

Edited to include responses to comments, finally. If I missed anyone, I'm so sorry. I'm literally doing it on my phone in a waiting room!

* * *

People who didn't know Bobby Singer very well (and most people didn't, even some who thought they did) thought his "temper" was displayed by quick verbal jabs, but that just wasn't true. Bobby had cultivated the crotchety persona for many years after losing the love of his life, shying away from any kind of affection and discouraging those around him from seeking any, until it had become his de facto personality. But that didn't really show his true temper. No, that didn't come out real often, but when it did, it was a fearsome thing.

Now was a very good time for it. Two boys who'd never had two nickels of their own to rub together, who lived a nomadic life fighting against the kind of evil that kids their age should have no idea about, and who still somehow were damn wonderful human beings had been targeted and tortured by a passel of grown-ass Hunters who should have known better. Yeah, Bobby was going to let his temper out to play.

He straightened and strolled over to the four bound men, casually looking over them to make sure nobody had any designs on getting free. He dismissed the clear leader, the one Sam had called Dave, and the two he and John had nabbed since the latter were all brawn without a full brain between them. That left a lunkhead that he thought Sam had called Lance. He'd apparently done some of the carving, which was a bonus in this case, since it would help keep pesky urges to show mercy at bay.

His target chosen, Bobby grabbed one of Lance's arms and dragged him negligently across the floor away from his buddies but directly in view of John. He shoved him against the wall in a seated position and crouched, making sure that his body blocked Lance's sight of Dave. He grabbed a handful of hair not to hurt but to keep the man from moving.

"So, Lance…" he drawled, holding his knife in plain view. "You like to stick things into boys, huh? And you wear the title of Hunter to give yourself an excuse." He pulled the tape off the man's mouth, the motion making the knife go close enough to Lance's face to make him blanch.

"No, nothing like that!" he sputtered. "I wouldn't – we hunt witches and they –"

"Are Hunters. Raised that way. And those KIDS found and killed the thing your little family's been after for generations, sounds like. But you didn't want to hear that, did you?" Bobby tightened his grip on the man's hair and leaned forward. "You just wanted to hurt. Now tell me about the cut – the magical one – on Dean's arm or I'll show you just how disappointed I am in you." He tapped the knife against Lance's cheek.

"It's – we thought – Dave puts something on his weapons that makes the skin around any cuts get all black and nasty and it just keeps spreading until the person dies," Lance blurted, breaking without a single drop of blood falling.

"Now, Dave may be a single-minded sadist, but I doubt he's stupid enough to carry a thing like that without havin' an antidote. So what is it?" Bobby dragged the knife blade down, enough to feel but not split the skin, and rested it against the pulse pounding in Lance's throat.

"I don't know! Only the older generation does." Lance's voice went so high it actually squeaked. Like so many bullies, he didn't handle losing control well.

Bobby's mind started racing. If Lance wasn't in the 'older generation,' then neither were Tweedledee and Tweedledum from the library. And Bobby was pretty damn sure that Dave was too stubborn to talk without a longer session than Dean had time for. "That's too bad," Bobby said, keeping his voice calm and even. "See, John over there? That's John Winchester, who you've probably heard of if you're familiar with the real Hunting community at all. You know, the ones who are actually good guys who don't torture kids. And it's his boys you tangled with. Heh. It's no wonder you got your asses handed to you. Now, I'm sure John's plannin' to cut Dave's eyeballs right out of his head, but if Dean die- doesn't make it, he'll do the same thing to all of you."

Said eyeballs had nearly bulged out of their sockets at the revelation of John's name and relationship to Sam and Dean. "My uncle, Paul, would know. And he was soft on the kids – he'll tell you," Lance babbled. "Please don't cut my eyes out!"

In no time, they had directions to the cabin where everything had happened, a description of the bunker beneath it, and a quick description of the four men left there (though it sounded like one was almost certainly dead).

Bobby and John had just started arguing about who would stay and baby-sit and who would go kick some ass when they heard the sound of a very familiar engine. Caleb's straight six AMC Eagle never actually hit on more than 3 or 4 of its cylinders and yet managed to get him from point a to point b. Less than ten minutes after Caleb burst in with the wild eyes of a man subsisting on coffee and stubbornness, he'd been apprised of the situation, and Bobby and John were in the Impala speeding toward Mount Greylock.

It was anticlimactic and more than a little disappointing to find the two remaining members of Dave's family walking along the road toward town. As soon as they pulled up, the older one tossed a gun on the ground and nudged his companion to do the same. He must have recognized the car, because the first thing the older one said was, "Are Sam and Dean safe?"

"Are you Paul?" John demanded. Getting a nod, he grabbed a handful of the front of the man's coat in one big fist and pulled him up on his toes. "My son has a cut from a spelled knife, and I understand you have the cure."

Paul looked surprised, then angry and worried. "Yes, it's a pretty simple purification ritual, but we need to hurry. That's a nasty compound my brother uses." He spat the word brother. He was obviously completely disgusted with what had happened.

"Where's the rest of the guys?" Bobby demanded as they quickly trussed up the two men for safe transportation.

"There's two dead at the cabin. I don't know where Dave, Lance, or the twins ended up, but Rick died in an explosion, and I had to kill Steve myself when he couldn't handle being locked underground. He attacked me and Mike." Paul spoke with a great deal of self-loathing.

"It wasn't your fault," said Mike, speaking for the first time. "He went nuts!"

Bobby and John shared a look as they herded the men into the car – Paul in the front with John, Mike behind John, Bobby behind Paul with a gun on both of the new prisoners. If this guy was on the level, they'd accounted for everyone.

Once back at the cabin, Paul mixed up a compound quickly from the herb stores from the Impala, working deftly despite his still-tied hands. Mike joined the rest of the prisoners. Bobby wasn't really surprised to see that Dave had a broken nose and burgeoning black eye. Caleb's temper was definitely shorter than Bobby's. Actually, he would be quite surprised if John's temper didn't lead to another broken bone or two for the man before the whole fiasco was over.

Paul swallowed hard, but it seemed to be more a reaction to the wan, beaten appearance of the two unconscious boys than the sight of his own trussed-up family.

"Just about done," Paul said. He'd kept his back to said family.

John leaned close. "If Dean doesn't get better immediately, I'll kill you," he said in a calm, conversational tone that somehow made the threat even more frightening. "But not quickly. See, unlike your brother and his minions, I don't like hurting human beings, which means that I haven't done anything to the grown men who tied up and tortured and tried to kill my sons. So I have quite a bit of anger built up, you understand?"

Paul swallowed but looked at John head-on. "Perfectly," he said. "I know I got it right, and it will help Dean. Then I'll back whatever you tell the cops. There's no excuse for any of us."

Bobby was reluctantly impressed with the man. Going against family sucked bowling balls. Too bad he hadn't done it sooner. And Bobby would withhold judgment until he saw this supposed antidote work.

John himself took the paste and spread it on Dean's bared arm, which was turning an ugly grayish-black from the small initial cut on out. Then he softly spoke the three Greek words to invoke the concoction: καθαριξω, θεραπεια, επαναφερω or cleanse, cure, restore.

The result was immediate and violent. Dean howled and jackknifed up on the couch. Luckily, John had fantastic reflexes and wasn't caught completely off-guard by the reaction. Still, Dean was a full-grown man and the only way John kept him from flying off the couch entirely was to toss the bowl of paste and throw both of his arms around Dean, trying to be careful of the kid's injuries. What he had not anticipated was Sam's reaction to the noise Dean made.

Sam, who had been deeply asleep, shot up from his own couch. But in his exhaustion and weakness, he fell forward onto the rest of his family, making John have to free one arm to grab him so he didn't land directly on Dean. Even the venerable John Winchester couldn't suddenly take over 200 lbs in weight. Before Bobby had taken more than a single step, John crashed to the floor with his back against the closer couch with one of his boys in each arm. John was barely visible beneath the boys, but for a long moment, he just clung to them.

Dean looked around, stunned and not really awake, looking so young without his trademark cocky expression. Sam blinked, hair askew and not looking much more aware than his brother. He shrugged a little. "Oops."

But it was Caleb who had the last word. He glared right at Dave and pointed to the Winchesters. "That, asshole. I hope you're proud, because that is what you almost destroyed."

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

Sam stretched and groaned. Sleeping in the Impala, even when he had the entire back seat to himself, was nowhere nearly as comfortable as it used to be. Plus, all of his healing cuts pulled when he moved around, not exactly painful, but certainly not pleasant.

"You awake?" Dad asked from the front.

Sam nodded as he rubbed the crust from his eyes. He didn't want to be awake, but he was. "Yessir." He was really looking forward to a bed. Apparently, blood loss left you tired even a few days later.

"Let's get everything inside. Room 12."

Sam yawned and nodded. He'd heard Dad get out to get them a room, but it had taken him a while to really wake up. He smirked a little when Dad didn't let Dean carry anything. Dean hated being limited by injury or illness (kind of like Dad) but Dad wanted him to be careful with both arms. The one that had had the infected cut looked fine other than the regular cuts, but the other was still in a sling and quite a dramatic shade of purple from bicep down. And of course, both of them looked like they'd had a run-in with Edward Scissorhands. At least Sam's nose was no longer so swollen.

They were apparently at The Stay 'n' Slumber outside of Buffalo and they had a whole caravan going, though Caleb intended to peel off outside of Chicago and head south in search of some dangerous artifact that had been sold at auction earlier. The rest of them would continue west to Singer Salvage where the Winchesters would recover for maybe a week, a true testament to how much they'd actually worried Dad. The fact that he'd made arrangements to have his truck brought to South Dakota and declared that he'd do all of the driving just solidified it further.

To Sam's consternation, Bobby and Caleb both came to the Winchesters' room after depositing their own things in their own. So far, Dad and Bobby had alternated between glaring at and caring for them, and Caleb had called them a great many names, but other than that, the shit hadn't hit the fan yet. Sam knew part of that was due to how busy the three older Hunters had been. They'd somehow convinced the police to charge the entire Hull family (as it turned out they were named) except for Paul, who had "escaped" with a severe warning that he'd better find something other than hunting to do with his life, with kidnapping and assault without actually interviewing the victims. Dad had taken pictures of many of Sam and Dean's injuries without showing their faces for the cops, and Sam sort of wondered if he'd used the witness protection program excuse, but he hadn't asked.

Caleb and Bobby had also cleared the really dangerous things out of the bunker before Dad gave its address to the cops. It gave an awful lot of credence toward the "crazy cult" theory. The weapons charges alone would've put the men away for a long time, Bobby said.

But now that they were all on the road and the busywork was done, it seemed the reprieve had come to an end.

Dad and Bobby took the chairs and Caleb leaned against the wall next to them with his arms folded. Sam and Dean stood in the middle of the room. It felt a bit like facing a firing squad.

First the men made them go through everything that had happened, all the way back to the way Sam had picked North Adams. They told the truth every step of the way (except that Sam said he just thought it looked like a nice town. They all seemed to believe him, and it was the type of place he liked, anyway.) Sam explained his boredom and how he'd stumbled across the weather anomalies by accident. They took turns for the rest of the story, telling it as clinically as possible. That didn't stop the glowers from all three listeners at various points in the story.

When it was finally over, Dad told them to sit on the end of one of the beds. His eye had started twitching when he'd heard that Dean had tied Sam to the Jeep and it never completely stopped.

"Did you know I was already heading out toward you the last time we talked on the phone?" Dad asked in his pissed-and-barely-holding-it-together voice..

Sam and Dean both shook their heads.

"Because the whole ley line you were on lit up like a Christmas tree," Caleb interrupted angrily, talking for the first time. "In Salem, a necromancer trying to bring back his girlfriend accidentally raised half a cemetery. In Westford, a dybbuk appeared out of thin air and started hopping from body to body of some rich guys on a high-end golf course. A vrykolakas rose for the first time in 300 years to munch on the citizens of Ashburnham. A troll climbed out from under a very busy bridge in Halifax to play chicken with the cars just upstream of a family of dobhar-chú that were apparently eating swans. Three different people in Dolger caught imps getting freaky with their garden gnomes and a weekend warrior outside of Utica shot what I'm pretty sure is a jackalope." His lips drew back in a near-snarl the likes of which Sam had never seen on the other man's face. He was so easy-going that sometimes it was hard to remember that he was a really kick-ass Hunter. "It was so bad that I called again to tell you that even Pittsfield was too close. But you didn't answer. So I tracked the address for the landline you gave me and what do you know? North Adams."

Sam gulped but it was Dean who told them about the near-compulsion to stay on the hunt, stating that he still knew better. Sam couldn't let him take the blame on his own, though. "We both did. We were arrogant about it, and it's no excuse." There was a silence long enough for Sam to seriously consider jumping through the window and running for his life.

"Compulsions are tricky things," Bobby said finally. "You're right that it doesn't excuse you dummies, not even close, but it kinda feels like you paid a pretty high price for that hubris."

(Sam recognized that Bobby and Caleb were both, in their own ways, trying to blunt Dad's anger a little and he appreciated it. It wouldn't work, but he was still grateful.)

"You both almost died more than once," Dad put in. "Sam, what if you hadn't been wearing that vest? What if he'd shot you in the head? What if they'd decided to slit one of your throats to get the other to cooperate? What if Paul had decided he'd rather die than help you? Or hadn't known the compound to help Dean? What if the hydra had run past you, Dean, and found Sam all tied up and waiting to be eaten? You two weren't just in over your heads – you were under the damn ocean!" He rose to his feet. "I almost lost both of you!"

They all let him pace for a moment, getting himself under control. Then Bobby, who'd never stopped studying Sam and Dean's faces, said matter-of-factly, "I don't envy you the nightmares."

He had a point, Sam thought, staring at the threadbare carpet. Dad's what-ifs would take a long, long time to go away, and he'd seen the way Dean had paled at Dad's words too. Sam clenched his hands on his thighs so nobody could see them shaking. Dean knocked a knee into Sam's, then Dad's hand landed heavily on Sam's shoulder. He looked up through his hair to see that Dad's other hand was on Dean's shoulder.

"If you two ever lie to me again, I'll…" Dad trailed off uncharacteristically.

"Strip 'em, dip 'em in chocolate sauce and feed 'em to water babies," Caleb suggested. Despite the acerbic words, the humor gave Sam some hope that he was sort of maybe considering forgiving them at some point.

"Or, since you're all coming to the yard, have Sam help me with some car strippin' while Dean and his bum wing work out a Sumerian translation I've been meaning to get to," Bobby offered.

Both boys groaned. Sam detested the hot, boring busy-work of stripping components off junkers, and Dean equally detested translation of any kind. Also, it was a far more realistic punishment than Caleb's tongue-in-cheek suggestion.

"Hmmm. Not bad, Singer. We may do that anyway," Dad said, moving away. "For rehabbing." He waited but neither boy dared demur lest the punishment get worse. "For now, I'm going to their room because we have some things to discuss." Dad waved a hand toward Bobby and Caleb. "We'll eventually be back with food. Don't go anywhere." It was another form of punishment, because normally at least Dean and often both of them would have been in on any such meeting. But again, they knew it was the least they deserved.

"Yes, sir," they chorused. Dad caught first Dean's eyes, then Sam's, then nodded as if they'd spoken their remorse aloud and went out of the room.

Caleb shook his head. "If you didn't look like you'd stuck your faces in a fanbelt, I'd slug you both. Don't ever do anything like that again, jerks." He followed Dad out.

Sam expected more of the same from Bobby, but instead he ruffled their hair like they were small again. "Idjits," he said softly. "You may be dumbshits, but you're damn fine Hunters. That was some impressive work. John knows it, too, but you still scared the hell out of him. Out of all us. Just learn from it, okay?" Then he left too.

Sam blinked at that. He looked at Dean, who was staring at the closed door like he'd been surprised. Then, incongruously, the corner of his mouth curled a little.

"I'll give you twenty bucks if you sneak to the vending machine and get me a candy bar."

Sam stared at his idiot brother. He wondered if Hercules had been this stupid. "Are you nuts, moron? I'd rather face another hydra!"

Dean snickered and for a few minutes both of them laughed, thank you very much adrenaline crash. Then Dean had to add, "That went better than I thought it would, to be honest. I thought there might be actual skinning involved. Possible Chinese water torture."

"You're not wrong," Sam admitted. He stood and paced the same circuit their dad had made. "But you know what? They're kinda right. I mean, about all of it, but I keep thinking about you tying me to the Jeep." Anger coiled in his stomach, along with disappointment. "I don't really regret going after that hunt" except for the part where you got hurt.

"What are you talking about? I regret the hunt," Dean rose too, brows lowering. "You didn't even tell me you got shot in the vest." His voice wavered slightly.

"I didn't know until Dad found the bullet later," Sam answered. "It's only bruised, anyway, but you're missing the point. You literally tied me up to take on the hydra yourself and almost died because of it. And what if I hadn't gotten free when I did? I could've blown up with the Jeep." The words were cruel, and Sam regretted them when Dean sucked a breath in like he'd been slapped. But even if that wasn't how he'd intended to make his point, he felt it was important that it was said.

"Screw you," snapped Dean, then blew out a breath and ran his good hand over his face. "Shit, you're stupid sometimes considering how smart you are. "Listen, Sam." He reached for Sam's arm and just did the same thing again when Sam stepped out of reach. Sam jerked harder, then hissed when it pulled on his bruised ribs. "Crap. Let me see," Dean insisted.

With an eyeroll, Sam pulled up his shirt far enough to show off the Rorschach test across his side. To Sam's surprise, Dean went white as a sheet and took a staggered step backwards to sit heavily back on the bed. "That...almost...it could have..."

It was like the visual evidence of the shot had finally hit home for Dean just how close their calls had been. How close Sam had been to dying. Sam hastily pulled his shirt down and brought Dean a glass of water. "I'm fine, Dean. A lot better than you."

"You know –" Dean started.

"What?" asked Sam when he stopped.

Dean sighed. "You know, that's why I tried to keep you away from the hydra. Shit like that. Like, you almost dying. I want to always keep you safe. I mean, I have to."

"Well, it was a rotten thing to do." Sam's voice cracked, which pissed him off. "It freaks you out if I'm in harm's way, but I'm supposed to suck it up when you give me your stupid smile and run right at danger?"

"It's different," Dean insisted, because of course he did. "I'm your big brother. Keeping you safe is kind of in the job description."

"Right." Sam sounded bitter to his own ears. "And my job description is to train my ass off and still be the useless little brother, left behind whenever it really matters. I just wish you trusted me."

"What?!" Dean sounded shocked all over again. "Dude, I do trust you to watch my back! More than just about anyone else on the planet! Dad, maybe Bobby, because they're bigger and have a lot more experience. But then you, and you'll pass them some day. I – I just didn't want you anywhere near that thing, especially when I knew you wouldn't listen to me. You're still a kid and already a kick-ass Hunter who will do anything to watch out for me – even really stupid stuff."

"Where'd I learn that?" Sam snapped, but couldn't help but soak in the praise. He hoped so hard that it was true and Dean really did trust him.

"Probably the same place you learned to shoot and bowl and pick up women," Dean tried to hard for light-hearted. It was the only apology Sam was likely to get and he knew that Dean was feeling guilty, but whether it was more for 'letting' Sam get hurt or for actually tying him to the stupid Jeep, Sam couldn't tell. "From your awesome but occasionally dumbass big brother." Dean's smile was hopeful.

"Try always dumbass and awesome maybe once in his life big brother," Sam responded promptly. The feelings of inadequacy weren't completely gone, but it was next to impossible to stay angry at Dean. "Next time something tries to take a bite of you, I'll just stand back and let it."

Dean probably wished Sam actually meant it. "Well, if it's wearing high heels and lipstick, please do."

Sam snorted and they fell silent for a minute.

"But Dean…" He waited until he was sure his brother was looking at him.

"I'm not a little kid anymore. I'm almost as big as you in case you hadn't noticed, and I have been training forever. You need to start letting me be your partner in this crap, not just your little brother."

Dean furrowed his brow and started to reply but then stopped, obviously torn about how to respond to that. Finally he sighed, "I'll try, Sam. That's all I can promise."

There was another long moment of silence.

"Dude, we beat a group of psychos, escaped their secret bunker, and killed a hydra," Sam added suddenly, the holy-crap factor of their accomplishments unexpectedly hitting him.

"With a sword and flamethrowers and dynamite. Damn, we're good."

They'd almost died, too, multiple times, but as Dean said, most of the best stories involved near-death experiences.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

In the end, the punishment wasn't too bad. Caleb had given them each a shocking and hard hug and called them assholes in three different languages before taking off, but they could tell he'd forgiven them. Dad and Bobby went through with their threat of hated chores, but only for two days, after which they left for almost a week. It was odd for them to hunt together, especially without Sam and Dean as a buffer between them. It led Sam to believe that it had something to do with either the crazy Hull family or the thing that had killed Mom, but he knew better than to ask.

And when they were back, Dad (in his typical back-on-the-horse philosophy) tasked Sam with choosing where to finish out the school year "far from Massachusetts" and "not the home of any monsters bigger than a cocker spaniel."

Sam immediately began to research and soon found an award-winning high school known for its collaboration with professors from the one and only Stanford University.

"Hey, Dad, have you ever heard of Fremont, California?"

* * *

AN: The Greek comes from Google because the only Greek word I know is ouzo.

Edward Scissorhands is a 1990 movie in which the title character, naturally, has big scissors for hands.

I finally picked a last name for the nutty family! I chose Hull because it means crazy in Estonian.

MewWinx96: Thank you so much for reading and commenting!

DearHart: I hope the ending was worth the wait!

radpineapple: I laughed my head off about you wanting to pet the hydra. That would so be me! I completely relate to Hagrid with loving all the scary creatures and claiming they're just misunderstood. You are so kind and affirming. I appreciate your comments very much. It certainly would be fun to draw up the guys all geared up, but I can't draw at all. I hope I answered all of your questions.

Jenjoremy: Hint taken! Very subtle, lol.

Christine: I didn't know that. I actually have a friend whose last name is Hull so now I can mock her for being crazy. Thank you for your kind words!

Long Live BRUCAS: I know, right? Sneaky Sam.

sylvia37: Aw, thanks! I wondered if anyone would be disappointed that John didn't kick Dave's rear and I really considered it. But in the end, I wanted to emphasize that the Winchesters are very different from the Hulls, if that makes sense.

Kathy: You're the only person who mentioned Sam getting shot, which surprised me. So...Dave didn't get his butt kicked too much even though he really deserved it.

muffinroo: Thanks! I originally had a mich shorter ending and Janice encouraged me to expand it, which is where the broments came from.

scootersmom: Muchas gracias!

stedan: Thank you. It's just too lovely to hear that you look forward to new stories.

Colby's girl: I kind of wondered if I had John underreact but...well, that's what the story wanted to do. Thank you!