-1I'm so glad you guys enjoyed the last chapter, it won't be long now until this story is complete and it is time to move on to bigger and better things, but in the mean time I plan on sending things out with a bang…. Not yet though so as always enjoy and let me know what you are thinking.

Bar fights and Bullets

Chapter 23

Village Profile

Local Residents Receive 12 year sentences For Attempted Murder

- Ottoville Ohio 11: 17 Am -

Local residents Allen Jefferson, 38 and Robert Foster, 36 were both handed twelve year sentences on Monday in the attempted murder of a passing tourist outside of Jack and Jim's Firehouse last month.

The Victim, whose family has asked remain anonymous , was leaving the Firehouse with his brother when he was shot twice from behind. Customers and the bars owner, Jack Leavers, rushed outside after hearing the shots fired and were stunned by what they saw.

"Al and Bob were still standing with their guns aimed." Leavers is quoted as saying, "As though they were hunting some sort of animal, wanting to make sure he stayed down." A few of the bars local patrons wrestled the pair to the ground and held them under citizens arrest until police arrived on the scene.

"It was like a scene right out of a horror movie." Becky Johnson, a long time Ottoville resident recalls near tears, "The rain was pouring down and all I could see was two figures not even twenty feet away. The wounded man being clutched to his obviously younger brothers chest. The younger man crying, sobbing helplessly… I'll never forget it as long as I live."

Inside the courtroom, veteran Judge Reynold Patterson showed no mercy against the assailants, both first time offenders, handing them twelve years a piece with the possibility of parole in the year 2012. "Such Brutal and vicious acts are not tolerated in this world, and certainly are not to be tolerated in my jurisdiction, I pray that if you have children you have not taught them the same dirty and cowardly tactics you have used in your own lives." He was quoted as saying in conclusion before his gavel struck and the case was closed.

As of press release time, neither the victim or his family could be reached for comment, the details of his condition and prognosis are still unknown at this time.

-Kathy Kenny Village Profile

Dean sat in silence staring at the words sprawled out before him on his brother's laptop, re-reading the old article over and over again to himself. Until now he had not found the strength or the will to read about what he had lived through, but he knew that in order to fully recover he was going to have to face each and every aspect of what had happened that night, and every event since then as well. Otherwise he would never truly find the closure he needed to move on with his life.

He knew the way the judicial system of today worked, he knew that in 2012 the men who had stolen his life, the men who had done this to him, would once again be free, wandering the streets as though none of this had ever happened, and then…. Revenge would be his.

A smirk appeared on his lips, laced with evil and comfort at the simple thought of that day not to far from now, the day he would look them in the eye and install a fear into their hearts they would never forget. Dean Winchester was not a force to be reckoned with and Al and Bob dumb-shit would find that out soon enough.

John stood at the entrance to his son's room and watched him silently for a minute, from where he stood the older man could see exactly what Dean was reading. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stepped inside and cleared his throat to announce his arrival. "Dean…" His words were cautious as he moved to stand directly behind his son, "What are you doing?"

Startled from his thoughts of vengeance Dean Jumped a little before looking over his shoulder, "Just catching up on a few things." He whispered only half lying.

"Oh really? What kinds of things?"

"Future hunts…. You might say." The younger man smiled again, he found it almost entertaining how much revenge, and blood shed against evil created a comfort instead of an uneasiness inside of him.

"Dean…" John slid down to his knees next to his son and placed a hand on his arm, "You have to let it go…"

"Let it go?" Dean scoffed looking toward his father his brow cocked in defense, "You of all people have no right to tell me to just let it go."

John knew his boy was right, but he also knew far to well what harboring animosity and dreaming of vengeance could do to a young man. How quickly and effortlessly it destroyed from the inside out, how painful it felt to wait, how consumed your life and your thoughts would become. And that was the last thing he wanted for his son.

After Mary's death all he could think about was the day he would finally catch the demon responsible and send him back to hell. All he dreamed about was the feeling of peace it would bring to him in the end… As he looked back though at what those aspirations had led him to, the hunting day in and day out, his warrior sons, raised with weapons instead of toys. a life where the only stability they had was the constant instability he forced upon them…. He wished he could take it back.

"Is my life really what you want for yourself Dean?"

"Your life is already my life dad, can't change that now, I might as well embrace it don't you think?"

"You really believe that if you wait for these guys, if you stand outside those prison walls and meet them…. If you destroy them, it is going to better you? It's going to make some sort of difference"

"No, but it might make this ride a little more worth it."

"Son please." John gave the arm still under his grasp a little squeeze his eyes softening. The orbs of a man who had lived a thousand lives and was still standing, now looked into his son pleading for him to make the right decision. "You're doing so well, your walking again, your recovering…"

"I still can't let them go unpunished dad,." Dean forced his eyes away and back to the computer screen, more directly to the article resting there. "I'm sorry…."

"The law is punishing them Dean."

"Since when do Winchester's believe in justice handed out by a badge?"

"Since this is a human, and not a demon-"

"Human?!?" Dean quipped snorting loudly, "A human? You call those sadistic bastards human, they are no different then any other monster I've hunted."

"And if you kill them… Then you become them…. Taking a human life is not a forgettable action, you know that."

"No one said I was going to kill them, I'm going to destroy them, they put me in this cage, they stole my pride and my life and when they breathe free air again I'll make them pay for it, I'll make them think twice before hurting anyone else…."

John sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair knowing that this conversation was one never ending, knowing that matching wits with his son on the matter was pointless. He rose to his feet, "Okay Dean, Okay, just please remember what I said when the time comes and act carefully…"

"When have you ever known me to be impulsive?" Dean chuckled closing the laptop and spinning his wheels to face his father with false innocence across his features.

There would be plenty of time to plot and plan later, for now he still had work to do. He would have his revenge and it would be sweet, but his father was right about one thing, he was not going to let it consume him, the time would come and he would be ready… but until then the thought was banished from his mind.

John rolled his eyes, "You really want me to answer that?"

"No…. I really want you to pay for some grub, where the hell is Sammy anyway?"

"He's getting cleaned up."

"He primps and preens more then any female I've ever met."

"Maybe." Sam smirked poking his head around the doorframe, "But at least he doesn't use words like Primps and Preens….Now did someone say food?"

"Do you ever think with anything aside from your stomach?" Dean rolled his neck from side to side popping it.

"You're really one to talk on that subject… Stealing the hour devours at funerals where we don't even belong!"

"I do not!"

"Mini hot dogs?!?!"

"Oh please that was one time!"

"What about at the auction house when you nearly ate Sarah out of house, home and mini quiche? Or when you stole the nuts from that dead guys desk at a crime scene?!?!"

John's eyes went wide with mock surprise as he turned to Dean who suddenly looked more then defeated, "You stole nuts from a dead guy? Dean, I thought I taught you better then that!"

"Oh please, not you too…. Sam is not completely innocent in all this you know?"

"Name one time that you've seen me hoard food while on a case." Sam put one hand on each of his hips a cocky expression plastering his face as he looked down at his brother tapping his foot.

"Well, Um….I." Dean sighs and ran a hand through his hair, "There was that…" He grunted in defeat and scowled, "I can't remember any right now!"

"That's because there are none!"

"Oh shut up! And stop standing like that you look like a chick… again."

John covered his mouth and stepped behind his son trying to suppress another laugh as he pushed him out of the room, "I think it's time to go eat boys…."

-As they pulled up to Logan's Steakhouse, Sam and John climbed out of the van, both men stepping around to the back, Sam reached for the chair when John stopped him shaking his head, "No chair tonight." He said matter of factly, reaching for the walker instead. "He's been using this thing for a few weeks now around the house and it's time he try a little harder."

"Dad…" Sam sucked his bottom lip into his mouth nervously and stuffed his hands into his pockets, "He hasn't regained feeling in his right leg yet, you've see the way he trips and stumbles, the anger in his eyes when he falls… You can't just-"

"Oh yes I can… You know as well as I do that it's time for that final push Sam."

"What if he falls in front of everyone?" Sam was trying as best he could to defend his brother even though he knew it was pointless.

"Then the only thing he will bruise is his ego, he's spent damn near a year in that chair Sam-"

"Are you two coming or did you go in without me and leave me here?" Dean called back to the two men, cutting their conversation short and sticking his head out the window, craning his neck to try to see behind the over sized vehicle.

"We're coming." Sam eyed his father once more disapprovingly before heading around to his brother's door opening it for him.

Dean swung his left leg out before lifting his right over the edge of the seat, Sam reached in and offered him a hand which he of course rejected until he was out of the vehicle.

The minute his brother's feet touched the ground Sam's arm was snaked around his waist helping to support his weight, his free hand gripping the door handle for added strength.

It was then that John emerged from the back of the van carrying his son's walker under his arm a determined look written across his face. "Here you go." He placed it down in front of Dean and took a few steps back.

"This isn't funny…" Dean mumbled looking to Sam as he leaned into him a little heavier, "This is a joke right?"

Sam didn't say anything as he offered his brother a sympathetic look. A look that to Dean meant this was definitely not a joke, and their father was more than serious.

"Dad?" He turned to his father for an answer

"It's time Dean." John replied simply reminding himself inwardly to keep his best face forward and not give into the fear and pain he saw in his son's terrified eyes.

"I-I'm not hungry anymore…" The frightened man scanned the parking lot which was nearly filled with cars, cars that represented people, people that would be inside the restaurant, people who would be staring at him with judgmental eyes and pity filled faces. And suddenly he had to remind himself to keep breathing, panic was embedding it's self in his soul and taking over his insides.

"To bad, I'm starved, so let's get a move on…" The eldest Winchester took a step closer to his son's ignoring Sam's look of anger and Dean's look of horror as He gripped the older man carefully by the arms and pulled him free from his younger brother's protective hold.

Dean stumbled and tripped into his father's arms the minute Sam's strength was no longer holding him up, instinctively his nails dug into his father's flesh in an attempt to keep himself standing as he drew in a labored and shallow breath.

"Dean!" Sam immediately stepped forward but moved back when his father glared at him from over Dean's shoulder.

John carefully lifted his son back to his feet there eyes catching he locked his gaze, giving him a small nod. "You're fine." To his own surprise his voice was once again cool and confident, even if on the inside he was quickly becoming unsure what he was attempting to do was really a good idea. He couldn't back down now.

"Dad please…"

John ignored the final plea from his son's lips as he signaled with his head for Sam to bring the walker a little closer. The youngest Winchester set his reservations aside and decided at that moment that if Dean was going to succeed he was going to need all the help he could get.

"Dad and I will be right here with you, just like at home alright?" Sam tried to sound optimistic and confident as his father, as he helped his brother once again steady himself with the latest metal contraption he was being forced into using.

"Whatever…" Dean's fingers trembled as he gripped on to the walker, inhaling he forced them steady again and swallowed hard.

As promised Sam kept in step with his brother, so did John one on each side of him they made their way slowly to the entrance. Fifteen minutes later they had made the thirty foot walk from the van to the front doors and John broke from his son's side to open the door for his boys. A proud smile pressing on his lips competing with the frown and disgust written across Dean's face.

"You're doing great." Sam whispered into his ear helping him over the slightly raised door frame, "See this isn't so bad."

Dean didn't answer. This was so bad, it was so bad he could feel his hunger turn to nausea in his stomach, his body ached his muscles burned and his head was spinning as he stepped into the over crowded restaurant. He didn't want to be doing this, he didn't want to be here, he felt almost physically sick he was so uncomfortable as he lowered his head.

"Table for three please?" John's voice echoed through Dean's ears from a few feet in front of him as he spoke to the hostess, "Something close to the front if it's available."

Just as before, Dean could feel her eyes, tearing in his flesh, burning into his pathetic form. Anger surged throughout his body and his knuckles turned white squeezing tighter to his walker. He was once again the center of attention the star clown and main attraction of a three ring circus. He wanted nothing more then to pick up the damn metal monster, and throw it against the wall…

"Relax." Sam whispered placing a hand on top of his brothers as Dean kept his gaze on the carpet,

"Shut up." He spat out venomously under his breath accompanied by a low growl.

"Right this way please…" the tiny framed brunette grabbed three menus and Lead John toward the seating area.

Sam and Dean fallowed, Sam resting his hand on he mid section of Dean's back and leading him almost as one would a blind man, as the older man continued to keep his orbs studying the ground. He was not going to look up, he didn't need to, he knew they were looking, watching, gawking.

Dean felt disgusting, repulsive and invalid, the only small comfort he found was the hand of his brother pressed against his back. Sam was there with him, and if Sam was there with him he could be strong, he could be fearless, he could-

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by his own clumsiness as he tripped on the edge of a small area rug no less then two feet from his destination. The front wheel catching on to the carpet his right leg tripped his left and before any of them knew what was happening…. Before Sam could stop him.

Dean found himself smacking not so softly against the carpet, the walker flying from his grasp and landing with a thud a few feet away. A chorus of gasping intakes of breath from the tables surrounding him fallowing soon after.

"DAMN-IT!" He cursed loudly over powering there awe stricken replies. At that minute he wanted nothing more then to lay there and die rather then face the world again.

Sam leaned down and placed a hand on his brother's arm, he too could now feel the stares and the dropped jaws all looking in their direction as he gazed upward at each one of them, his cheeks red with anger his heart pounding fiercely in his chest, he wanted to scream at them, he wanted to make them understand… But the one of the things he had learned during his time living with a disabled brother, was that people would never understand, people would never stop staring, and people would never stop whispering,…. They were ignorant.

"Is he alright?" The waitress asked looking to John who jumped immediately from the seat he had taken and was at his son's side ready to help him up.

"He's fine…" John looked up offering her as much of a smile as he could muster, he knew that Dean was far from fine, he knew his son was quite the opposite of fine actually, but still this was something he had to do, had to experience.

"Dean." Sam rubbed the shoulder in his grasp lightly when Dean still had not so much as lifted his head from the carpet. Instead he still seemed to be cursing softly under his breath in reply to the torturing eyes he knew were still focused on him, and the embarrassment that had swallowed him whole.

"I-I'm fine Sam…" He fought to keep his words as steady as possible figuring he had already given the audience enough of a show determined that it would end there.

"Alright son, lets get you up." John purposely ignored the eyes he too felt watching them, It must be so nice to be so damn perfect,…. He found himself thinking as he and Sam hoisted Dean back to his feet and helped him into the booth. John retrieved the toppled over walker and folded it up sliding it underneath the table.

The waitress thankfully professional said nothing else about the "accident" she had just witnessed as she excused her self informing them that their server for the evening would be by in a minute too take their order.

Dean sat silent, his jaw locked face stone cold as he stared so hard at the table top, Sam swore he was going to burn a hole though it. "Dean it's alright-"

"Shut up Sam." Dean cut him off his voice lacking typical Dean emotion, there was no anger, no humor… nothing… it was small and it was cold.

John leaned back in his seat and eyed his boy knowingly, he could hear the whispers surrounding them the hushed, voices laced with pity.

"poor guy"

"I wonder what's the matter with him…"

"do you think he's alright…"

"Mommy… what's wrong with him? Why does he walk funny?"

Even a few chuckles here and there….

And he knew Dean could hear them too.

Still though he held tight to his ground, this was something that Dean needed to deal with, this was something that he needed to work his way past just as he had every other obstacle through out this ordeal.

"Dean…" He said sternly after a minute not the least bit surprised when Dean looked up at him a firry anger burning from his eyes into his father's soul.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

"I'm fine." He spat back his voice burning with the same emotion and discontent as his gaze.

"Then act like it."

"What?!" Dean's voice grew into a low disapproving snarl now as he leaned forward a little more in the seat.

"You fell, it happens to everyone, if you let it ruin your night then the only person loosing out is you. "

"Dad's right Dean, who cares what these people think they don't know anything anyway and if they look down on you then…" He rose his voice a little, so that he could be heard by prying ears "They are the ones with the problem not you man." Sam tried as best he could to bring light to the situation, even though he himself was angered and infuriated by all of it.

Sam and his father's words were only mildly comforting as Dean swallowed hard and forced himself to sit up straighter in the booth, a booth that he wanted to crawl under and hide. He was a Winchester though and even if there wasn't much left of it, he still had his pride. He wasn't going to cower and recede under any ones eyes, especially not a room full of strangers.