Title: Now I Know My ABC's

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: A hurt/comfort romp through the alphabet, one letter at a time from A to Z. Each chapter is a stand-alone one shot. There is hurt, comfort, angst, humor, feels and all around fun.

Author's Note: This one is set after 1x18 "Something Wicked". Just imagine it shoehorned after there somewhere. Lol Contains a healthy dose of John Winchester's obsession-fueled A+ Parenting. Heh.

Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :D– Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.

**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!
~Reviews are Love~

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R is for Rebar -

Sam leaned back on the picnic table. He looked out over the valley stretched out below the little drive-in park and breathed in the spring air deeply. For a moment, as he closed his eyes and tipped his face up to the sun, he could imagine it was ten months ago and any second, Jess' soft fingers would slide across his face, her chuckle in his ear. It made his heart hurt. He shook his head and sat up, turning away from the view to look back toward the car instead. Dean was there, hunched over the hood with what looked like the map from the glove box. Sam frowned and hopped down off the table. Just then, Dean turned and waved a hand at him.

"Hey, Sammy! Get over here!" Dean called. He tucked his cell phone back into his pocket and took a deep breath as Sam drew up beside him.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, looking down at the map and a city several hours away that his brother had circled. "You find a hunt?"

"Kinda." Dean tapped the map and leaned against the car. "Dad sent coordinates." He held up a hand when Sam opened his mouth. "He didn't say anything except meet him there."

"Dad's going to be there?" Sam scowled and picked up the map. "What happened to it being too dangerous for him to be with us?"

"Don't ask me, man." Dean waved his brother around the car. "Let's move. Sooner we get there, sooner we can ask him. And Sammy…" he rolled his eyes as he opened the driver's side door. "Could you try not to bite the guy's head off for five minutes?"

"I'm not gonna…" Sam stopped and groaned. He got into the car and waited for Dean to start her up. "Ok, fine. I'll try not to pick a fight, but you know how he is."

Dean snorted and pulled out of the rest stop and back on to the highway. "You realize you two are completely alike, right?" He quirked a brow and looked over at Sam's disgusted face. "There's a reason you've been butting heads since you were two feet tall."

"Shut up, please." Sam shook his head, refusing to rise to the bait and looked out the window instead. He didn't deny it though. There were too many similarities between him and his father for comfort.

Dean gave a smug grin and flicked on the radio, hoping he'd be able to keep the peace between his dad and brother long enough to find out what dad thought he needed them for. The drive to Paulander, Minnesota went quickly and peacefully with his little brother asleep against the passenger window. He startled when his phone chirped an incoming text and he pulled it out. Dean rolled his eyes, seeing another text from their father, this time with the name of a motel and a room number.

"Awesome," Dean muttered and spotted the motel ahead. Winchesters, it seemed, gravitated to the same seedy areas in search of motels. He easily picked out their father's big black truck near the end and drove down to park beside it. He turned off the Impala and gave Sam's shoulder a nudge. "Hey. We're here."

Sam rolled a crick out of his neck and sat up to look around. He caught his breath a little, seeing their father's truck parked beside them, and nodded. "Alright. Let's go see what he's found." He even managed a small smile for his brother. He really did plan on trying not to argue with his dad at every turn.

Dean shook his head as he got out. He could practically see the frustration spilling out of his brother, but at least Sam was making the effort of trying to keep it inside. "Room fourteen. Go see if he's got a room for us too and I'll grab the bags."

"Yeah." Sam shrugged his shoulders in an effort to loosen some of the tension and then went to the door. He raised his hand, but before he could knock, it opened to reveal John Winchester. "Hey, Dad."

"Sammy." John smiled and quickly pulled his youngest in to a hug. He thumped him on the back and let him go to look over his shoulder at his eldest. "Dean, you boys are in thirteen. Here." He handed a key to Sam. "Go drop your stuff off and then get in here. Got a job I need backup for."

Sam opened his mouth to start asking questions but he heard his brother clear his throat behind him. He nodded instead. "Ok. Back in a sec."

Dean watched Sam open the door of the next room over and blew out a relieved breath. He'd fully expected Sam to give dad the fifth degree right there in the doorway and was a little impressed that he hadn't. He tossed their bags on the near bed and looked around. As motel rooms went, it wasn't that bad. Although, and he snorted, he could have done without the little pink paisley border running around the ceiling above the brown wallpaper.

"Dude." Sam stuck his head in the bathroom and then looked at his brother. "The shower curtain is pink."

"Long as the water's hot, I'll take it." Dean pulled two containers of salt from one of the bags and tossed one to his brother. "Get the bathroom window." He turned around and poured a careful line of salt in front of the door, then went to the window to do the same. He pushed the heavy, green curtains open and found a decrepit looking air conditioner/heating unit with a layer of dust caked on top of it. He shook his head, hoping they wouldn't need to use the thing and lined the window in salt. He tossed the container onto the night stand and looked up as Sam came out of the bathroom and did the same. "What?"

"What? What?" Sam asked in confusion.

"You're not gonna say anything?"

Sam smirked and opened the door. "We don't know anything yet. Let's go before he comes looking." He walked next door and through the door their dad had left open. He wasn't surprised to find the back wall of the motel room papered in pictures, articles, and handwritten notes. His brows rose as he quickly took in the wall of hunter's research. "Cerberus? Really?"

John chuckled softly at Sam as Dean came in behind him and closed the door. "Always were damn fast, Sammy. Yeah."

"How many people has it killed so far?" Sam moved to the wall and started scanning down the handwritten notes to see what dad had learned about the creature so far. "And why are you so sure it's Cerberus?"

"I caught a glimpse of it a couple days ago." John resisted the urge to bristle at Sam's demanding tone. He knew his youngest could be just as single-minded as himself when it came to research.

Sam noticed a few blank spots on the wall, places where papers could have been pinned up before being removed. However, he opted not to call their father out on it just yet. He had promised Dean to not pick a fight first thing, and he was going to try and keep his word. Besides, he wanted to be with Dad; needed to be, even. He was the one person who could truly understand what Sam was feeling with the loss of Jess.

Dean went to the little refrigerator and smiled, finding a six pack of beer. He pulled out three and turned to hand one to his brother. He frowned and recognized that lost look on Sam's face. "Hey." Dean nudged him in the shoulder with a beer. "Stop thinkin' so hard."

"Yeah. Sorry. Thanks." Sam took the beer and twisted the top off as he went and sat at the little table to look at the rest of their dad's research.

John watched Sam's always expressive face, and he had no trouble seeing what his son was thinking of. God knew, he'd seen that same look on his own face in the mirror enough times. He scrubbed a hand down his face and took the beer Dean held out to him, wishing he had a clue how to speak to his youngest, but sadly, that had always been Dean's area of expertise. He shook his head and pulled a map out from under his pile of research. "I've narrowed its hunting ground down to two places, but I'm leaning toward this one."

Dean leaned over Sam's shoulder and frowned again. "What is that?"

"New hotel going up, and several of the workers were scared off by a big, weird-looking dog." John chuckled. "I'm guessing the guys didn't think anyone would believe them if they told the truth."

Sam nodded as he read the research on Cerberus their dad had amassed. "I always wondered if it actually had three heads or not. The lore never seems to agree, but the classical literature doesn't give Cerberus multiple heads until somewhere in the sixth century, I think."

Dean chuckled and saw the same look of amused pride on his father's face. "You're such a nerd. Any idea how we kill it?"

"We don't really." John said and held up a hand when Dean opened his mouth to protest. "Not in a traditional sense. It can't die. We're going to send it back to Hades, or Hell if you like. There's a ritual."

"Hercules was supposed to have kidnapped Cerberus once." Sam leaned back in his chair and looked at their dad. "Souls could come and go in Hades until Cerberus was brought back. He closed the gates." He met his father's eyes with suspicion in his own. "This has something to do with the demon that killed mom and Jess, doesn't it?"

"Not exactly." John sat down and gave a small shrug. "The theory is that if Cerberus is sent back, he'll drag any earthbound demons with him and shove them back into hell for good."

Dean raised his brows. "And we believe that? 'Cause that sounds a little 'Disney' to me. If it were really that simple, you'd think someone would have done it by now."

"It's worth a try," John said firmly. "Best case, all the demons here get pulled back and locked away forever. Worst case, none of them do, but there's one less creature up here snacking on civilians. It needs killing. You know the job, Dean."

"Yeah, I do." Dean looked over at Sam and waited. His brother gave him a small nod and Dean sighed. "Alright, we're in. What's the ritual?"

John looked between his two boys and had the distinct impression that they had just had an entire conversation with a look and a nod that didn't include him. He shook his head, dismissing the thought. "The ritual isn't complicated. There's an incantation, a red candle, and a plank made of ash wood, all of which I have." He smiled grimly. "The only difficult part is that the plank has to be floated on a slick of an offering's blood, like water. It's to represent the ferryman, Charon, bringing souls to Cerberus."

"We have to kill someone?" Sam asked and couldn't keep the disgust out of his voice.

"No, of course not. Give me some credit, Sam." John felt the familiar frustration welling up and fought to keep it down. "I'll donate the blood. It just has to be enough to lay the plank on. Now, the site is closed after the attack yesterday so we'll go in tonight. We can come at it from three directions and catch it between us."

"Catch?" Dean was liking the sound of this plan less and less.

"Like I said, we can't kill it. We need to catch it and hold it while I do the ritual and sent it back." John gave his sons his best, unconcerned smile. "There are plenty of places in there we should be able to pen it in for a few minutes. It's a construction site. Lots of materials to work with."

"And lots of ways for things to go sideways," Dean said unhappily. He definitely wasn't comfortable with the idea of splitting up while hunting something they knew they couldn't actually kill.

"I trust you boys to handle yourselves." John stood and tossed his empty bottle into the trash can. "We should go grab something to eat now and head over in a couple hours."

Sam bristled at being pushed into the hunt so quickly. He had barely had time to read all the research or do any of his own. It wasn't that he didn't trust his dad's ability to do the research, but he didn't trust him to have actually given them all the information. The man had a lifelong habit of only giving them what he thought they needed and nothing more. And he could tell by the look on Dean's face at that moment that his brother was just as suspicious.

"Anything you're not telling us?" Dean asked. "'Cause if you're gonna pull more of that marine, need-to-know crap, tell me now."

John was a little taken aback to hear that tone in his eldest son's voice. It was the sort of question he would expect from Sam. "No, Dean. The research is all right there. We can skip food and go through it if you really want to hunt this thing hungry tonight. Your choice."

Dean ground his teeth together in frustration, but in the end, he had to trust his father. "Fine. Let's go." He slapped the back of his brother's shoulder and headed to the door. "I could use some pie." He gave Sam a look as his little brother passed him to say 'don't start.'

Sam rolled his eyes and went to the Impala, hoping this wasn't going to be another job where their dad's inability to be up front came back to bite them in the ass, as it had so many times in the past.

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Sam adjusted the machete attached to his belt, then braced his left hand under his right to steady his gun. The construction site was a lot bigger than dad had made it out to be. He knew vaguely where his father and brother were coming from but it would be at least five minutes, maybe ten, before he got near them. His nerves were singing with tension. The moon had risen brightly above and provided plenty of light to see by; he didn't even need his flashlight. That gave him a small measure of comfort. They wouldn't have to make targets of themselves while looking for Cerberus. He crossed through the open frame of a room and stopped, hearing the sound of gravel crunching from somewhere ahead of him.

A gust of wind blew Sam's hair into his eyes, and he moved out of the open ribs of the room and climbed a pile of dirt as high as his head. He knelt at the top to make a smaller target of himself and looked out over the site. A yellow crane and a backhoe were parked below him on a gravel-covered stretch of ground. Several trailers surrounded the area, but the center of it, in an area blocked by the large construction equipment, seemed to be empty.

Sam moved cautiously down the other side of the dirt hill and approached the crane. He heard the crunch of gravel again, closer this time. He put his back to the cold metal of the construction machine and listened for any other sign. He didn't want to come out leading with his gun if it was his brother or dad. He moved silently toward the back of the crane and sucked in a surprised breath when he heard Dean's voice call out in surprise.

"Dean!" Sam broke from his cover and ran around the huge piece of machinery. His voice had been close, and he watched his brother emerge from between two of the trailers across from him. Fear twisted his stomach into knots when Sam saw what was between them - a pit dug into the ground, no doubt for the foundation of whatever they were building. It was a good fifteen feet square and at least ten deep. He saw his brother backing toward it. "Dean, stop! Look out!"

It seemed to happen in slow motion for Sam. Dean was faced away from him, with his gun trained between the two trailers, and Sam could only watch as his left foot went back and found only open air. The next moment, Dean's arms were flailing and with a short cry, he fell from sight. "NO!" Sam shouted. He sprinted around the hole and heard the snarling of a creature from the direction Dean had come from. He slid to a stop and waited. A massive dog, standing as tall as his head, emerged into the moonlight. Its hair was dark, perhaps black, and three sets of glowing red eyes blinked at Sam from its face.

"Shit," Sam breathed. He shook his head and fired into the head of Cerberus. It howled, filling the air with the angry sound and then retreated between the trailers. "Dean." Sam turned and looked down. He could see his brother lying too still below and felt a knot of fear twist in his gut. "Dean? You hear me?" Sam tucked his gun in the back of his pants. He dropped to his knees and slid over the side. He held on and dropped the last couple of feet. His shoes sank slightly into what he realized was not completely hardened cement.

Sam turned and his eyes caught on something wet and glistening beneath his brother's side. "Oh, God." He dropped beside Dean and put a hand to his chest. Low on Dean's left side, something was tenting up his flannel and t-shirt. He pulled the fabric up and away and swallowed hard. A piece of rebar was impaled through his brother's body. Sam looked around and saw more exposed lengths of rebar around them poking straight up out of the foundation, and, somehow, Dean had miraculously missed all but that one piece. One was enough, however.

"Dean." Sam leaned over his brother's face and saw the frown between his eyes. "Hey. Dean, you need to wake up, man." Sam looked up at the edge of the hole and back at his brother. He took out his cell phone and called their father. It was a long thirty seconds before he answered. "Dad. Dean's in trouble. We're near the center of the site. It's bad. Cerberus is here. I scared it off, but it'll be back. Get here." He ended the call before his dad could ask questions and bent back over his brother when Dean moaned softly.

"Hey. Hey, I'm here." Sam steadied Dean's head and put his other hand on his brother's chest to keep him from moving. "Dean. No, don't move!" He held him down when his brother's body jerked and a strangled cry was torn from Dean's throat. "Take it easy and don't move."

Dean coughed and forced his eyes open to find Sam leaning over him and staring down with fear on his face. "Sam… hurt?"

Sam gave a short, miserable laugh understanding that Dean was worried about him rather than himself. "Jesus, Dean. I'm fine. You're the one I'm worried about."

Dean lifted his head, thankful for the hand Sam slipped behind his neck to help and stared in shock at the piece of metal sticking out of the left side of his abdomen. "Holy shit!"

Sam lowered his brother's head back down. "I called Dad. We need to call an ambulance."

"Dude, I can…"

"No way. Dean, there's no way we're pulling you off this without an ambulance." Sam glared him down. "I'm not watching you bleed out for some stupid, Winchester stubborn bullshit about never needing a damn hospital." He patted his brother's chest with a strained grin while Dean stared at him in surprise. "Get comfy. I'll make Dad agree with me."

Dean let out a breathless laugh. "Good… good luck with that. Shit. Hurts."

"I know. Stay still." Sam stood and reluctantly went back to the wall of the hole. He jumped and with a little effort, managed to roll himself back up to the top. He let out a relieved breath as his dad appeared to his left and jogged over to him. "He's down there." Sam pointed and watched his dad's eyes blow wide when he took in Dean. "He's alive, and he's alright for the moment but we can't move him." Sam me his dad's eyes firmly. "Not without help. He'll bleed out, Dad. We need to call an ambulance."

John took another look down at Dean. "Did Cerberus get him?"

Sam shook his head. "No. He fell backing away from it. He never saw the drop."

John nodded and swallowed hard before he met Sam's eyes once more. "No. No ambulance yet. We need to get rid of that thing first."

"What? Dad, look at him!" Sam pointed down to his brother again and was more than a little horrified. "He needs help now, not an hour from now! Do you want him to die?"

"Don't backtalk me, Sammy." John stared angrily at him. "We can't call civilians in here with that thing running around. You want one of their deaths on your hands? We finish the job. Then we take care of Dean. You used to know this."

"This is bullshit!" Sam barely resisted yelling. He didn't want to draw Cerberus back to them if it had left. "It's bad, Dad! He needs help right now!"

"He can wait. Dean's strong." John backed away a step and checked his gun. "You stay with him while I finish this. I'll come back once the creature's gone and we'll call the ambulance. Keep him safe. Think you can manage that?"

Sam jerked as if slapped. "Better than you, apparently." He waved a hand out at the construction site. "Go on. Go finish the hunt. I'll keep him alive, no thanks to you." Sam fixed his father with a glare that spoke volumes before he added, "But so help me, if he starts crashing or bleeding worse than he is, I'm calling 911. I'm not going to stand by and just watch him die. I won't!" He watched his father start to respond, but the older man finally gave a curt, silent nod and vanished between the trailers. Sam scrubbed his hands over his face and then climbed back down into the hole with his brother. "Hey."

"Heard that," Dean gasped and lifted his head to get a look at Sam. "Promised… no fightin' with Dad."

"I promised I'd try." Sam knelt next to him again and checked the bleeding. "If he's not back here in five minutes, I'm making the call."

Dean nodded, understanding that Sam was going to give their dad all the patience he could that didn't involve risking Dean's life. "See that thing?" He coughed again and braced a hand on his stomach below the rebar. "Freaky-ass eyes. Like six… six of 'em."

"Yeah." Sam pulled his jacket off and spread it over Dean's chest to help keep him warm. He was careful to avoid the iron bar and scowled as Dean hissed in pain. "Stop moving."

"You try… not movin'… with a pole shoved in your… through you. Crap." Dean panted and closed his eyes. He could feel his head swimming either from blood loss, hitting his head in the fall, or both. It was making his stomach churn dangerously and he didn't even want to imagine what throwing up would feel like with that thing pinning him to the ground.

"Easy," Sam soothed, lightly rubbing a hand lightly over Dean's shoulder and chest to try to calm him. It was hurting him, being forced to watch his brother bleed and suffer while their father was more concerned with finishing a hunt.

"Stop it." Dean slapped lightly at Sam's arm and scowled. "S'right. He's… he's right, dude. Cujo… eat the paramedics."

"You don't know that," Sam argued. He looked up at the edge of the hole above them. "I just… sometimes I want us to be normal, you know?" He looked back down at Dean sadly. "Why is that a bad thing? Normal people get hurt, they call 911."

Dean sighed and grabbed the hand Sam had rested on his chest, holding on. "Gonna be fine. 'Sides… normal people are… are boring."

Sam smiled but he didn't feel it. He tucked his jacket more securely around Dean's shoulders and heard a sound from above them. "Remember. Don't move," he whispered it and stood. "I mean it. You try to pull yourself off that thing and you'll bleed out."

"I got it." Dean waved a hand. "Go." He had heard the sound as well. It killed him to stay there, lying on his back and helpless while Sam faced the danger, but his little brother was right. He knew how screwed he was if he moved too much. "Be careful, dammit."

Sam nodded and went to the wall. He leaned against it, listening for a repeat of the sound, hoping it was Dad having changed his mind. He knew it was the creature a moment later as he heard a soft growl somewhere above. Sam drew his gun and looked back at his brother. Dean had his head up, looking at him, and Sam hooked a thumb up toward the ground above. Dean gave him a nod and let his head fall back.

"Son of a bitch," Dean groaned softly. He realized he didn't even have his gun and figured it must be up top somewhere, dropped when he fell. He was so tired and wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and go to sleep, but he knew how dangerous that was. In addition to blood loss and a possible concussion, shock was rapidly becoming an equally deadly threat. Every minute that passed impressed on him just how right Sam was about him needing help; needing an ambulance. He jerked his head back up as a low growl came to him. He could see Sam, at the wall of the hole in the shadows, waiting.

Sam looked up and his mouth fell open as the demonic dog appeared. It leaped into view, sailing through the air, and landed on the other side of the hole across from him. "Shit!" Sam moved quickly to stand between the beast and his brother. "Dean, stay down," he warned and aimed at Cerberus' head. "Dad!" Sam shouted it up, knowing their father had to be nearby. "Dad, it's here!" He hoped their father would suddenly appear, but as the seconds ticked by and the creature snarled at him, John Winchester failed to appear.

Cerberus growled and hunched low to the ground. Sam gasped as it leaped again directly for him. He managed to fire two shots into its chest before it slammed into him and bowled him backward. Pain bloomed across his chest as he rolled and came to a stop with the heavy bulk of Cerberus on top of him.

Dean couldn't lay there any longer, not with Sam's life at stake. He tried to sit up, to lift himself off the rebar, and the pain ripped a short cry from him before he collapsed back to the ground.

"No!" Sam yelled. He turned his head and saw his brother fighting to free himself. "Dean, no! Don't!" He had to put his attention on the creature as its jaws snapped mere inches from his face. He used his left hand to hold its teeth away from him and with his right, pressed the muzzle of his gun into its chest and fired. Cerberus jerked and howled a flood of death-flavored breath into Sam's face. Sam yelled in pain when he felt claws dig into his chest and more sharp pains in his right thigh.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted and could only watch in horror as the creature drew his brother's blood. He snarled and pulled his arms under him. He wouldn't sit back and watch Sam die; he couldn't, even if it cost him his own life. Before he could try to lift himself clear, a set of booted feet slammed into the ground to his left and Dean turned his head to find their father standing there.

"Dean, stay down," John ordered and moved toward his other son. He knew what he wanted to do and figured he had one chance while it was distracted. John put his gun up and moved wide around the fight. He judged the distance, took a deep breath, and reached in to grab Cerberus from behind as Sam's voice rose in a near scream. He wrapped his arm around the thick throat, heaved and spun as he went to a knee. He gave a roar of effort as he managed to throw the heavy beast. John spun to his feet, panting for breath and rubbing his aching shoulders. He grinned. The creature was impaled on several lengths of rebar and wouldn't be getting off them any time soon.

"Check Sam! Dammit, dad!" Dean was seconds away from tearing himself free when his father finally looked at him.

"I got him, Dean. Stay put." John went over to Sam and knelt beside him. His youngest was lying on his side, curled around his stomach, and gasping for breath. "Sammy?" He rolled him carefully to his back and gritted his teeth at the sight of all the blood on his shirt and jeans. "Ok, buddy. Just stay still for me. Almost done here."

Dean watched his dad swing the pack off his back and start pulling out the items he had packed for the ritual. A sick feeling began to wash over him as he watched his dad reach down and use his hand to smooth Sam's blood along the unfinished concrete. The feeling intensified as John laid a small, wooden plank on top of the blood and set a red candle atop it.

"You bastard," Dean rasped softly. "You wait… waited. You let him… get mauled."

John looked across at Dean's accusing eyes and away again. "It was supposed to be me, but the ritual was specific. The blood had to be spilled by Cerberus to work. I have to do this."

"Used us." Dean let his head drop back and closed his eyes miserably. "Bait."

"Not on purpose, son," John protested, but it was weak even to his own ears. "It just worked out that way. Two minutes, alright?" He lit the red candle and began softly chanting the ancient Latin spell. The flame of the candle grew quickly, and, as John reached the end of the incantation, the blood he had used was sucked into the wood, darkening the plank to near black, and gone. The candle burst in a spray of light and John turned to watch Cerberus roar. It struggled against the bars impaling it and then vanished with a loud boom. The smell of sulfur washed over him so strongly, he gagged and heard both his sons do the same.

John sagged in relief and quickly stuffed the candle and wood back into his bag, then took out his phone and dialed 911. "Hang on, boys." He patted Sam's shoulder and then went to check on Dean. "My sons were attacked by a wild dog at the construction site. They're hurt bad." John rattled off the address to the dispatcher and hissed in a breath as he moved Sam's jacket from Dean's chest to get a better look. "My oldest, he fell. There's a piece of rebar impaling him and he's lost a lot of blood. You need to hurry." He hung up and bent over Dean's face. "Hey, Ace. You still with me?"

"You're… you're a bastard." Dean glared weakly up at his father. "Any... anything for the… the job. Right, dad?"

"Dammit, Dean. I had no choice." John felt guilty for the way things had happened, but he shook his head. "I didn't plan this. It happened. I'm sorry, but it got the job done. You boys will be fine."

Dean rolled his head over to see his brother and suffered not being able to go to him. "Better be. HE better be, Dad, or you and me? We're finished." He felt another wave of exhaustion roll through him on top of the shock of realizing what his father had done. It was too much, and this time, he didn't fight it. He closed his eyes.

"Dean? Dammit, no! Stay awake!" John took a hold of his son's head. "You need to stay awake. Dean, that's an order! Open your eyes!" There was no response, Dean having given into unconsciousness. John set his head back and checked the injuries. There was far too much blood on and beneath Dean for John's peace of mind, but he couldn't even put pressure on the wound without the risk of making it worse. "Shit." He got up and went back to Sam, but his youngest was just as unconscious as his brother. Sam's head lolled in John's hand, his pulse beating too quickly beneath his fingers, and Sam's blood coating his hands. He looked back at Dean and closed his eyes, praying that his reckless gamble had not cost him both of his sons as the first faint siren echoed in the air.

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Dean woke slowly and frowned. He felt a pain in his abdomen, but it was distant and muted. He opened his eyes and realized he was lying in a hospital bed. He could hear a soft, steady beeping beside him from a heart monitor and felt the pinch of a needle in the back of his wrist. He sucked in a breath as it all came back to him and he lurched up in the bed. "Ah!" Dean groaned loudly and hunched over his stomach. He heard a door open and a moment later, a warm hand was pressed against his back.

"Shit, Dean. Lay back down." John watched the pain moving across his eldest son's face and supported him back down to the bed. "You're not gonna be getting up for a day or two. You've got a new Winchester record for internal stitches."

"Great." Dean coughed hoarsely and sent a stern look up to his father. "Where's Sam?"

John nodded, expecting that question, and moved to his left. "Right there. Look."

Dean rolled his head over and took comfort in the sight of his little brother laid out in the next bed over. He was too pale, with his head turned toward Dean, and there were lines of pain around his eyes. "How bad?"

John smiled grimly. "New Winchester record for external stitches. It clawed him up good. He'll be fine once he gets over the blood loss, same as you."

Dean nodded. He cautiously pushed up a little in his bed and allowed his dad to tuck a pillow behind his back. He took a minute to breathe deeply and let the pain subside and then looked at John again. He studied his father's face and saw what he was looking for. "You're taking off again."

John didn't bother to try and deny it. "I am. It's safer. I needed backup for this one, but it's dangerous. We know that. Every second I'm with you puts you boys at risk."

Dean felt anger welling up and ground his teeth together. "You should probably get going then. Wouldn't want to put your kids in danger again."

"Dean…"

"No." Dean held up a hand to stop him. "You and I both know you used us for bait. I heard you." He glared at his dad and felt a dent appear in his hero-worship of the man. "You didn't ask Sam if I was alright. You asked him if the damn dog had made me bleed. And when he told you no, you took off. You needed that thing to bleed one of us, and it's just bad luck it wasn't me first. Dammit, Dad. He nearly died. An inch or two deeper…" Dean trailed off staring over at his brother.

He could feel the angry glare on his face as he looked back at his father. "You know, I chewed Sam out after the shtriga. You know why?" He glanced over at his little brother and back to their father. "He accused you of using us for bait, and I told him he was full of shit. I told him you would never do that, that you'd never risk us like that." Dean shook his head. "I'm gonna be apologizing for that for a while."

John swallowed hard around the lump of guilt in his throat. "You weren't bait." He stared Dean down, willing him to see the sincerity in his eyes. "Not back then. I swear it." He ignored the anger still boiling off of Dean, knowing there would be no absolution offered for this level of betrayal. He squeezed his oldest son's shoulder briefly before he went over to the other bed. John smoothed Sam's shaggy hair out of his closed eyes. "I'm sorry, Sammy," he whispered. He rested a hand on the side of his son's head for a moment and then headed for the door. "Take care of each other."

Dean watched his father leave and closed his eyes as the door shut behind him. "Dammit." He groaned softly and flicked the thin blanket off his body. It took him several long, pain-filled minutes until he was able to swing his legs over the side of the bed and sit up. He cradled an arm over his abdomen to brace it over the bandages and carefully stood. Dean shuffle slowly across the few feet to his brother's bed and sat gingerly on the side. "Hey, Sammy." He pulled the blanket down from Sam's neck and felt another spurt of fear and anger at the heavy bandages covering his brother's torso. He looked over and saw a similar lump beneath the blanket over Sam's right thigh and knew the creature had gotten him there too. Sam gave a low moan and Dean wrapped a comforting hand around the side of his brother's neck. "Hey, buddy. You're alright."

Sam cracked his eyes open and found Dean sitting up beside him. "Hey." His voice was a cracked whisper and he coughed lightly to clear his throat. He frowned up at Dean. "Y'ok?"

Dean nodded and smiled. "Yeah. I'm good. Couple new holes. You too." He lightly patted the bandages on Sam's chest.

Sam looked around and frowned as he met Dean's eyes again. "Dad's gone, isn't he?"

"Yeah. Said it was still too dangerous." Dean gave a tight smile. "He stayed to make sure we were alright before he left."

Sam nodded and sighed. He remembered everything that had happened during the hunt; he knew their father had used them as bait. But he also knew Dad loved them, as frustrating as it was to reconcile the two things. "You should get back in bed." He managed a smile for his brother and swatted his arm. "I've seen ghosts with more color than you, dude. Go lay down."

"Shuddup." Dean stood cautiously with a soft laugh. "You ain't exactly rockin' the tan either there, Casper." He crawled gratefully back into his bed and rolled to his side before letting himself sink down into the bed. "We're good, Sammy. Go'sleep."

Sam smirked as his brother's voice slurred and closed his own eyes. It hurt, knowing what their father had done for the sake of the hunt, but not as much as it could have… as it probably should have. Because he knew he had Dean to keep him safe. His big brother would always be there to have his back and Sam would have his, whether Dean liked it or not.

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The End.

Next up: S is for Starvation, Sleep Deprivation, and Stoning