A/N: Over 400 reviews!! Holy bloody crap! You guys are fucking awsome:) So, a new chapter for you.

Chapter Fourteen

John and Sam jumped into John's truck and tore off down the road. John's knuckles were white around the steering wheel in barely contained fury. God, how the hell had he let this happen?! He was John fucking Winchester, a modern day Van Halsing for god's sake. He didn't make mistakes like this. Not when it came to the hunt and especially not when it came to the wellbeing of his boys. No, this had to end.

Sam looked at his father. The older man's jaw was clenched, knuckles white around the steering wheel and his eyes. Sam hadn't seen his father's eyes filled with so much anger since he had said he was leaving for College. Turning his head to look out the passenger window in search for Dean he spoke, "Do you know where he'll be?"

The older hunter shot the younger a quick look, "I have a fair idea." He replied. He knew his son wouldn't have gone to their old house. No, Dean would have gone somewhere were he thought he could be safe. Somewhere were he had been happy that wasn't tainted with fire.

John turned his big black pickup around a corner and drove a bit further up the road to the small park that he knew was there. Sam's breathing quickened as he spotted his brother's Impala. The next thing he saw however made his blood run cold. As John pulled into the parking space next to the Impala Sam saw Dean. His brother was on his knees slumped next to an old swing set, his silver gun clutched in his hand, pointed at his temple.

"Dean!" Sam tried to yell as he jumped out of the pickup, however his voice came out as a mere squeak. He ran quickly towards his brother but slowed his pace as he got near him, he didn't know what kind of mental state his brother would be in and if he startled the older hunter he could end up getting himself or his brother shot. Then again judging by the gun aimed at his head, Sam figured his brother's mental state wasn't too stable at the moment.

Sam could feel his Dad behind him. Taking a deep breath and making his voice as calm and non-threatening as possible Sam addressed his brother, "Dean?" when his brother didn't answer Sam turned pleading eyes to John. His father was there and the man always made everything alright again, Dad will know what to do. He would make this right too.

John caught Sam's pleading eye contact and his heart constricted more that it already was. He didn't know if he could make this right. He'd never, ever seen his oldest son so far off the edge before. Not even after Dean had locked himself away when Mary died. It was bloody terrifying, "Dean son, how about you put down the gun." John said calmly yet with a hint of an order in his tone.

Dean looked up, a dazed expression on his face as if he had just noticed them. Gun hand still shaking, making his father and brother worry he was going to accidentally pull the trigger, he laughed, "I have to end this, otherwise he'll use me to hurt you. I can't let anything hurt you." He said shakily, almost to himself.

"Dean nothing is going to hurt us. Okay? Just give me the gun and you me and Dad will go, and we'll burn this bastard's bones and send him back to hell. Come on, it's going to be alright, just give me the gun." Sam said and took a slow step forward.

"Get rid of them and finish this Deannie or they'll be next. You don't want Sammy to be my bitch do you?" the voice came again.

"You leave them the hell out of this." Dean growled back.

John and Sam shot a quick glance to each other. Apparently they weren't alone. And judging by what they had just heard Dean say, if they didn't do something quick this was going to end real fast, real bad.

"Dean ignore him. Give me the gun and no one will get hurt." Sam said and took another step forward until he was almost in reaching distance.

"Stat back!" Dean snapped, his finger pressing dangerously on the trigger making Sam and John halt instantly in their advance, "I need to do this don't you get it?" God why the hell didn't they get it?! He was trying to protect them. Damn it was all so confusing, he had them telling him one thing, the voice in his head telling him another and he didn't know what to do. Yes he did, it was easy, just pull the trigger and he'll have saved them and himself. It was a win-win situation, "I'm sorry."

John saw what his oldest was going to do a moment before he did it. He snapped into hunter mode and charged Dean, sending them sprawling to the ground as the gun went off. He heard Sam grunt and Dean cry out as his head hit the ground hard enough to knock him out. John straddled his son's hips, pinning him with his weight and held his wrists together tightly in one hand.

"Sam?" John asked, remembering hearing his son grunt as the gun went off.

"Yeah I'm okay. Just grazed me." He replied while holding the shoulder of his left arm. It was bleeding but it was just a flesh wound. It could have been a whole lot worse. His Dad might not have stopped Dean in time. Speaking of his Dad, man he'd never seen him move so fast. And that tackle, it was an honest surprise that his Dad wasn't a professional linebacker instead of a hunter.

The youngest Winchester crouched down next to the other two at took Dean's gun, quickly tucking it into the back of his pants and surveying the area to see if anyone had come to see what the gunshot was about. So far they were still the only ones in the park but that didn't mean anything, they had to get going. Now. He looked down at Dean's unconscious face, muscles all relaxed. Dean's temples unblemished just like they should be, no gunshot wound present. Thank god.

"Dad." Sam said quietly.

"I know. Help me get him up and into the Impala."

Together they carried the unconscious hunter and laid him out in the back of the Impala. As a precaution John got some rope from the trunk of the black beauty and bound his oldest son's wrists together, insuring that for the mean time he wouldn't hurt anybody, or himself. However if Dean wanted to get out of those ropes he would be able to do it, John having taught both his boys how when they were younger. The knots he had done however would be a bitch to get out of, ones that John himself had learnt at his time in the Marines, and they would be able to subdue Dean before he got out of them if it came to that. He hoped it wouldn't.

John went to his truck, pulled out some of his preferred weapons and things he thought he might need then locked it and hopped behind the wheel of the Impala. Sam sat in the passenger seat, constantly looking into the back as if to make sure that, yes Dean was still alive, he was still breathing. He pulled the heavy muscle car out of its parking spot and turned back onto the road, navigating the small Lawrence streets and back roads as if he had never left. Sam leant over into the backseat and found the first aid kit that they kept there. He took off his jacket and looked at the wound. It had already stopped bleeding, just a nick really. But still, safety first. So he put some antibiotic cream on it then wrapped it in gauze. It would do for now.

The drive to Missouri's had taken Sam just over five hours, however John drove like Dean. A regular speed hound. Sam had no worries that the drive would be made in at least half the time. For now though they had to figure out a plan. Sam didn't know if the body would still be there in the guy's house, rotting away or if the police had been called and the body found, buried somewhere. Dean had been their main concern, not that jerk. They had assumed it would be all over, that they could all get better and move on. They hadn't anticipated needing to go back there, to salt and burn the bastard.

Sam brought up his concerns about this to John who told Sam he'd already thought about it. They would stop by the house first, check to see if he was still there which John strongly doubted – because it was in the suburbs and the nosy neighbors would have heard the gunshot and if not seen the three of them emerge from the house then maybe the freak had friends who would check up on him - and if not get the police records of where he was buried. Of course neither of them knew the guys name. None of them had wanted to so they would have to find that out too if they were going to get his record and find where he was buried.

For the next twenty minutes the car's passengers were silent. The only noise being the low rumble of the V8 and the tires on the road. Each man lost in his own thoughts, steeling himself for what was to come. Because this was going to be different. It wasn't some person they had caught wind of, done the research and the salt and burned them; it was personal.

Thirty minutes into the trip a groan was heard from the backseat. Both John and Sam were broken from their thoughts and Sam turned to see Dean's eyelids flickering while John watched from the rearview mirror. Deciding that it would be safer, John pulled onto the side of the highway they had been traveling down so he could properly asses his son. It had been worrying both him and Sam that Dean had taken so long to regain consciousness. Now was the crunch time. They would find out what kind of Dean was waking up; the normal cocky one or the psychotic suicidal one.

Dean's head felt like lead. He tried to think back to what had caused it to feel that way and brought up a blank. Where the hell was he? Well wherever it was it felt safe, even if it was a bit cramped. He groaned as he tried to sit up, his senses coming back to him. he was moving and there was a familiar comforting throaty growl. The Impala. Seeing as sitting up had failed he opted for a simpler task; opening his eyes. Well at least it should have been simple, his eyelids felt like they weighed a fucking ton.

"Hey Dean? You with us?" a voice broke through his hazy mind and forced his eyelids to open. Yep he was defiantly in his car except now it wasn't moving anymore. The voice could belong to no one but his little brother, he'd recognize it anywhere. And sure enough, Sam's face was the next thing he saw. A little fuzzy but still Sam.

Dean reached up to try and rub away the fuzziness when he realized his hands were tied. Looking down he saw course ropes entwined tightly around his wrists. His memory chose that moment to snap back into place and give him a quick re-run of the events leading up until now. The hunt. The room. The torture. Missouri's. The park. God he didn't want to be tied up, it reminded him too much of what had happened to him and he didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to. Oh god someone just let him the fuck out of these ropes. He pulled desperately against them but in turn they only tightened.

"Dean. Son calm down. It's okay." John said when he noticed his son's breathing increase when he couldn't get the ropes off.

His father's deep voice calmed Dean down a little as did the strong, reassuring hand on his shoulder from Sam. He stopped pulling on the ropes and took in deep slow breaths to get himself back under control. He was safe. Sam and his Dad were there and nothing was going to happen to him. Besides if his memory was right then he wasn't surprised that he was tied up like he was.

"I don't know what came over me. I think I'm losing my mind." He whispered. He remembered a voice. Not just any voice but that voice. The one that had belonged to his captor.

Sam couldn't stand hearing his big brother sound so unsure of himself, so lost. He leaned over the seat and gently took Dean's wrists in his and began to untie the rope, "You're not losing your mind Dean. He's haunting you. But we're going to fix it okay. We're going to salt and burn that bastard and send him straight to hell. Don't worry because it's all going to be fine." He said reassuringly.

Dean mulled this over for few moments before speaking again, "So we're going back?" he asked, eyes drifting from Sam to his Dad and back again.

"Yeah Dean, we're going back. But after this we're not stepping foot in that godforsaken town again." Sam said as he pulled the last of the rope free from Dean's wrists.

John watched silently. When the hell had his boys turned into men? God had he really missed that much? It was like one minute he could see Dean running around with his blond bowl cut and baby Sammy squirming in the crib watching his older brother with awe, and the next he blinked and now he could see his sons. His two strong, capable, tough as nails sons who were now men. God he was so proud of them. Of the bond they had and of them as individuals. He hoped to hell that they knew that.

"We good to go now?" he asked.

"Yes sir." Was the simultaneous reply from both brothers.

John nodded and pulled the car back onto the highway.

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