Before I begin this chapter, let me start off by thanking all of you for your wonderful replies, from the get go my stance on this story has been that if one person takes just one thing away from it, then the time and effort of writing it was worth it. I realize now how many people it has touched thus far and I hope that it continues to do so until it ends. So thank you all so much for your wonderful replies and your dedication to it.

Bar fights and Bullets

Chapter 24

Motionless.

Trapped.

Confined by a weight so heavy he cannot budge, Dean is laying flat backed against the red and black Asian style rug of Logan's Steakhouse.

Laughter, taunting, gut wrenching laughter rings through his ears…

He wants, he tries to get away, but he is stuck. Bound to the floor by an un-seeable force.

"Crippled….", "Worthless.", "Freak.", "Failure..", "Nothing…" hurtful words fly like daggers, mixing together repeating over and over.. A rhythmic chant that literally begins to rip into his flesh causing his ears to bleed.

"No stop… please…." He calls out trying to be heard over their maniacal laughter…

Their eyes stare so deep into him that his flesh begins to burn. As they watch him, as they stare, Gawking, their words grow louder and louder.

"Crippled….", "Worthless.", "Freak.", "Failure..", "Nothing…"

He tries to squirm free, tries to defend himself, but there is nothing he can do, he is as helpless as a fly in a spiders web, they move in closer and closer, his breath is struggling now to enter into his lungs, he wants to close his eyes, to wish it all away…

He can't blink.

Then suddenly…

Sam is there, and for a split second relief washes over Dean.

Sam will help him Sam will save him.

His little brother crouches down in front of the crowd, his face only centimeters away…

"Sammy…." Dean's voice is tearful and afraid"Sammy please help me…." He begs

Sam doesn't hear him. No, Sam doesn't care. The relief that had washed over the older of the two boys quickly slips away as in horror he watches a smirk comes to the young man's lips. Sam's eyes turning from soft tender brown orbs, to red demonic hell holes in less then a second…

"Crippled….", "Worthless.", "Freak.", "Failure..", "Nothing…" He screams, his breath is hot his tone so strong so loud he can be heard above the rest.

Dean is suffocating now, petrified as his brother's voice tears through him like sharp claws of a vicious beast. He can't run, he can't hide, he can't even move… All he can do is beg and plead.

"No…No… Sammy please. Help me…Help me, please…" He no longer fights against emotion as tears begin to fall mercilessly and quickly from his eyes and down his face…

It's as though seeing his brother cry causes Sam's joy to escalate, the volume of his laughter rising so much that the walls of the restaurant begin to shake and then crack.

"HELP!!!"

The faces of the strangers surrounding him shift and change, turning into those he loves, those he cares about, His father is standing beside his brother… Their faces matching in satisfied and amused expressions as they stare down at Dean's now scorched and flaming flesh.

Bobby…. Cassie, Pastor Jim, Caleb, Joshua…. They are all there too.

All laughing, all taunting, all pointing

All chanting…

And still he cannot move.

-Chewing vigorously on the ink pen between his lips as he sat at the kitchen table, John yawned tiredly and took a sip from his coffee. He was once again filling out credit card applications in order to help them get by, the name of choice this time … Joseph Stallion and his son's Kevin and Charles. He had just about finished when his train of thought was quickly derailed and his attention was diverted.

"Help…. Help me, somebody please…." Dean's voice sounded small and tired as it drifted down the hall and into the silent house.

"What the…." John put the pen down and looked at the clock in the kitchen, it was almost three thirty in the morning. Climbing to his feet he made his way back toward Dean's room, finding it slightly surprising that the middle Winchester's distress call had not yet woken his little brother.

Stopping in front of The closed door John listened silently for as minute arguing with himself inwardly as to whether he should go in or not.

"Daddy please…. Someone anyone… stop! Stop! Please."

John's brow cocked and he swallowed hard, Dean was crying, there was no question about that. There was no harm in checking on him, John decided before quietly pushing the door open.

The orange light filtered in over his head from the hallway casting an eerie glow through the now partially opened door, and John's chest tightened a little at what he saw. There was his eldest son, tangled in the sweat soaked sheets of his bed, his half naked body thrashing about like a caged bird trying to free itself.

His eyes were shut tightly as his arms and legs flailed helplessly. In coherent, sob like mumbles pouring from his lips, his head shifting from side to side, as his entire body seemed to tremble.

"Dean…" John called out to him only slightly above a whisper taking a step closer. "Wake up son."

But Dean didn't wake up.

Before John could reach his side, the younger man tumbled off the side of the bed, and smacked with a thud on to the carpet. "NO STOP!!!!!" His cries accompanied his fall.

John thought of course that this would wake his son as he closed the gap between them and stood over him a puzzled expression on his face.

Dean Winchester, professional hunter, always alert, always ready, was still out cold, still mumbling in coherently, still crying, still thrashing.

Only now as he crouched closer, could the boy's father see the look of horror, the painful tears, the anguish sprawled out across his son's features. "Dean…" His voice was thick with concern as he reached out and shook the trembling man's shoulder hard, "Wake up son."

His father's voice was a comfort, as it broke through the terrors of such a vivid and powerful nightmare.

Disoriented, trapped in his haunted sleep, fear having engulfed him, his heart racing, breath ragged, Dean drew in as much air as he could and accompanied it with a whimper, before clutching tightly to the hand shaking his shoulder and shooting up .

Dean was not a warrior, Dean was not strong, he was not fearless…. he was his father son… a child… Scared and fragile.

John's face filled with surprise as Dean's body was thrust against his. It took him a second to register that it was not cause for alarm… necessarily, as Dean's arm's wrapped around him within in seconds.

Trembling, and fearful his body shook "Daddy please…" he begged, "Stop… I'm your son… please…" John glanced down and found that Dean's eyes were still closed tightly, his face still red with tears. He could feel his son's pounding an unsteady heartbeat in his own chest and he frowned deeply.

Carefully he draped his arm around the body pressed desperately against his and held tightly to it. Flashes of his infant son entering his mind as Dean's head still seemed to fit with ease burrowed into his shoulder just as it had a lifetime ago.

Choking on his own emotions John cleared his throat. Shhh, come on Dean… Wake up Son." He tried again his finger's resting on Dean's sweat drenched back trembling to match the younger man's flesh.

"NO!" Dean's eyes shot open in an instant, and john grimaced as the hold Dean had on him tightened momentarily.

It took a second before Dean's breathing evened out, his coherency returning to him, he found his body pressed against something vaguely familiar, something warm and soft. A scent over powering his senses that immediately relaxed him.

John exhaled in relief as the stiffness of his son's limbs subsided and he knew he had finally awaken from whatever terrors had been holding so tightly to him. Slowly the older man drew back, "Dean?"

Dean blinked against the darkness and found his father's face in front of him before looking around slowly finding himself sprawled out on the floor. His brow rose in question, but he remained wordless, trying to put it all together in his head.

"You were having quite the nightmare." John offered only now letting his hand slide from Dean's back.

"Obviously…"

"Do you want to talk about it?" John climbed to his feet and reached down gripping his son by the arms. Pulling him up off the floor before gently helping him back on to the bed.

Dean's limbs being less then cooperative at the moment, he had to clutch to his father firmly to keep from landing once more on to the carpet. "I- I don't remember…" he cursed inwardly the minute the words left his lips, even he was unconvinced by them. The imagery still embedded in his mind was so vivid so real… He knew this was a nightmare he would never forget.

"Are you sure about that?" John helped him resituate his legs before sitting down on the edge of the bed. Reaching over he turned on the small lamp resting on the nightstand and studied his son. Although he seemed much calmer then he had been in his fitful sleep, Dean still seemed more then a little shaken.

"It was nothing really…" He tried again running a hand through his hair attempting to compose himself as best he could before leaning back against the headboard purposely avoiding his father's worried gaze.

"The only way you are going to get past these things is to talk about them."

"You're starting to sound like Sam…"

"Well.." The eldest Winchester smirked slightly, "He always was the one to take cues from when it came to the emotional side of life."

"It was just a nightmare Dad."

"No nightmare has ever caused you to…" John let the words die off on his lips as he shook his head, "This was not just a nightmare, now come on out with it."

Dean exhaled in defeat his shoulders slumping slightly, He didn't want to talk about it, he might have needed to, but he didn't want to… He knew though that his father was as stubborn as a mule. "Everyone was staring at me… laughing at me, screaming at me." He whispered sheepishly knowing he had no choice.

He felt stupid and childish admitting that something so insignificant, so trivial… So unsubstantial to everything else going on in his life, had impacted him so hard that it was consuming his thoughts and now even his dreams… Well nightmares anyway. He didn't care what people thought, he was Dean Winchester, in his eyes opinions were the same as assholes, everyone had one and many of them stunk.

So why was it getting to him? Why was he letting it?

"Dean…" John's brow creased almost identically to the way his son's always did as he drew his lip into his mouth thinking over his next words, choosing them carefully, "Son, people are afraid of what they don't understand."

"I just I can't stop thinking about the look in their eyes, the pity and even the amusement… I don't want to be looked down on anymore."

"For every person who looks down on you… There is one who looks up to you as well…."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." Dean twisted the corner of the blanket around his finger over and over again his eyes still cast downward, "I didn't see any admirable gazes coming my way in that restaurant."

"Maybe you were looking in the wrong direction."

"How could anyone look up to me? I mean come on…"

"How could they not." John cut him off, "Dean, there are always going to be people in this world who will find a reason to look down on those who are different then they are, the truth is… those people are so insecure about themselves that they need to pick on others, they need to feel superior." John never imagined having a talk like this with either one of his boys, he never thought that he would have to explain to them the cruelties of the world… And at this moment he found himself wishing that Dean's problems as well as his own were as simple as Demon's and evil creatures… rather then the evils of the human soul.

Dean didn't say anything as he contemplated his fathers words, he understood what he was saying, he knew all to well that John was right… But that didn't make it hurt any less when someone looked at him the wrong way or pitied him under their breath. "I just, I don't know if I'll ever be the same again…" He glanced up a little looking in his father's direction. "Before the 'accident' before I lived on this side of the line, I never thought that people were capable of treating someone like that… so….cruel? So inhumane?" He rubbed his face with his hand and sighed frustration once again creeping into him. "They treat me like I'm some sort of freak show attraction."

"You can't let it get to you…"

"Easier said than done."

"You just have to remind yourself that this isn't permanent." John exhaled trying a different approach, "There are people out there worse off then you who have spent their entire lives dealing with what you're dealing with, and they always will. You might not know it now son, but you're lucky, what happened to you was a raw deal and the pain you've gone through… I would give anything to take it away, but you're going to get through this…That's not the case for everyone…"

"Yeah." Dean's reply was barely audible as John rose to his feet patting his son's leg, "Now try to get some sleep will you?"

Silence engulfed Dean as his father left the room and he reached over turning off the light, the darkness was a small comfort to his still twisted and tormented insides. He found himself thinking about what John had said, how there were people out there who would never get a second chance at a 'normal' life, because really they had never had a first one.

He thought about the faces staring at him in the restaurant, the whispers and the pain it drove through his body. He wandered what it would be like to live like that for the rest of his life, to face such discrimination and hatred, for no reason at all….

To live inside a nightmare you can't wake up from, trapped inside yourself, so much to give a world that can't even be bothered to give you a single chance.

And his heart broke.

Someday soon, he would be on his own two feet again, good as new… but he knew just as he had told his father, he was never going to be the same again. He had seen to much, experienced to much, and he knew to much to pretend. The darkness he had always been smart enough to fear, he knew now, was nothing compared to the evils found in daylight.

As his eyes drifted shut a pang of guilt found it's way into his heart.

Dean thought about how lucky he really was, how he was going to get better again… And how not everyone could escape their nightmares so easily.

A lot of you are going to think this chapter was uncharacteristic, but in my eyes it really wasn't… Not from emotions Dean has eluded to, but never expressed. I'll admit this was the most difficult chapter I have written so far not only in this story but in my entire 10 years of writing so please R&R