A/N: According to canon (namely "No Exit," 3rd season) Dean told Jo he was "6 or 7" when John first took him out shooting. Now, would you give six year old Dean a gun? John Winchester would. And so would I.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. This is for entertainment only, and not for profit.

Chapter 5 – twisted for a loop

It's a big knife. Heavy. Blade's longer than my hand, and about as wide. Looking at the symbols engraved in the steel makes my head hurt. The handle's dark yellow, maybe bone. I'm so damn cold that my fingers are numb. I can barely feel the knife handle. I can't let Dad down, but this is wrong. It's not what Anne Marie said before.

It's Dad. She told me to shoot him. Put him to rest. Not like this. I don't know where she got this pigsticker from.

Dad looks like he's asleep. I'm glad about that, but he's already covered in a thin layer of white ice. Looks like somebody dusted him with powdered sugar. Even asleep he still looks tired, with all those bruises on the side of his face.

I've seen Dad look like that before, when he came back home after hunts, and he'd come in late at night or the next day, stagger in, collapse on the sofa of whatever rat-hole we were living in, salt and blood and fugly guts on his skin and clothes. I'd clean and patch him up, do what I could for him, help him to bed.

Help him rest. Like I want to now.

"Dean?" Anne Marie says slowly. "I really need you to focus right now."

I stare down at the knife in my hand. It's so big and heavy I don't think I can lift it. When I look up Anne Marie doesn't look right. "Y-you s-said…" 'm so cold I'm stuttering. Not a good sign.

"I said what, Dean?"

"Y-you s-said I sh-should u-use muh…my g-gun on h-him." My teeth are chattering. She's looking at me funny, and I have to slow down. Maybe she doesn't understand me. "S-said I shou-should s-shoot him in the ba-back of his he-head." My mouth feels all thick and funny. I have to slow myself down. "So he can r-rest. S-so I cuh..could. So. I. Could. Help. Him."

I can't help staring at the deep cut across her throat. Her own mother did that to her. Just like…just like Dad caught me a good one in my ribs. It hurts. Every damn time I breathe, it hurts.

Dad made Sam leave. Sam hurt me when he left, and so did Dad.

"Sweetie," Anne Marie says, and she puts one hand on the side of my face. I don't even blink. I can't feel her fingers. "I know I said that before, but you don't have your gun with you now, do you?"

"I…I l-lost it…" I take another deep breath. I hiss through my teeth when my ribs start throbbing again. "I don't…dun't…"

"See?" Next thing I know she's got her hand on my chin, and when I look down for the Colt, her fingers tighten, and she yanks my head up so I have to look at her. "That's why I brought you the knife." She smiles at me, and I start shaking all over. "You can do this." She's talking to me like I'm some dumb ass kid. I'm not. I didn't mean to fuck this up. I didn't. "You need to bleed him into the pool. And then you need to take his heart."

I sit there blinking at her, all slow and stupid. My head hurts. Her voice sounds funny, like it's buzzing in my ears. "I'll f-find my guh..gun…"

"There's no time for that." She gives me this look, and I get it. It's the same kind of look Dad gave me back in Fort Douglas. I fucked up again. Big time. I lost my knife. Lost my guns, both of them…I don't… I don't know how to fix this. Don't know how to give Dad the help he needs.

"If you do this, you and your father can make it up to the people you both couldn't save. You can help them rest, the same way you can help your Dad rest. Your father's flesh and blood will help them live again. You save people, don't you Dean? It's what your family does. What you can do now."

My head hurts so bad everything goes double, Dad, Anne Marie, the faces.

I just sit there staring at her, and I guess that pisses them all off. They hiss at me and it hurts so bad, feels like an icepick through both ears. My eyes start to water and my grip on the knife loosens.

"Dean?" Anne Marie whispers.

"I can't." I make the mistake of shaking my head no, and my head feels like it's gonna fall off. "I can't do it like that." I keep thinking that maybe she doesn't understand me, so I talk real slow. "I have to use my gun. Dad needs to rest…"

"Sssshh now." She grabs me by my jacket front, pulls me to her. We're nose to nose, and she sticks her tongue in my mouth.

Not my first time swapping spit with a chick but she smells like blood and her tongue tastes like burnt sulfur, like I'm sucking on a burnt match somebody shoved into my mouth. I stare at her face, and it gets broader, pale, with all these tats all over her skin.

…don't want this. I don't...

That buzzing in my head gets louder, and I can't pull away from her.

This isn't right. She's larger closer up. Her fingers are large, rougher.

I don't want her touching me.

Anne Marie pushes up against me, grinds her mouth and body against me. I feel her teeth in my skin, down my neck. Next thing I know I'm on my hands and knees and she's standing right over me.

Got my forehead against the floor, eyes squeezed shut. My head hurts. I'm shivering and shaking all over, and I can't stop myself. I'm tired but that's no damn excuse. I'm so fucking worthless.

I screw up everything I touch. I didn't help Dad enough. Sam wouldn't have left if it hadn't been for me. If I could have found a way to keep Dad and Sam from fighting all the time, if I could have helped Mom that night….

Can't take care of my family, and this time is no different.

"…sorry…'m sorry…please…"

"All right, Dean. It's all right." Anne Marie pats me on my back. "I understand. It's hard, I know. You want to help your father. I know you do. You have to get up now."

I open my eyes and lift my head. First thing I see are all those faces in the walls. They're all around, and they're watching me, all wide-eyed, mouths hanging wide open. They look like they're mad or scared or something. I don't know why. My legs are wobbly. I hear something metal scrape across the floor beside me as I stand up. When I look down I see my Colt on the floor.

I bend down to pick it up, and everything goes grey on me. I nearly face-plant into the floor.

When I stand up my head's throbbing, and at first I can't see anything but black spots all over the damn place, but the weight of the Colt in my hand is solid. It feels right. I want to help Dad, but not with that damn knife. Anne Marie's talking about gutting him like some damn fish. I can't do that.

I turn around, take one look, and that's when I step back, raise the Colt up in a two handed grip.

Dad's awake. He's using Anne Marie as a shield, holding the knife to her throat.

The first thing Dad ever taught me about guns goes through my head.

I was wired that day. Hell, why wouldn't I be? First time my Dad's gonna show me how to shoot, with one of his own guns. It was heavier than I thought it would be, but I wasn't about to screw this up.

I was six and he set five beer bottles on that wooden fence out back of Pastor Jim's house. "Never point a gun unless you intend to pull the trigger, Dean," Dad told me. "You point, you pull the trigger, and you kill whatever you're aiming at."

I bulls-eyed all five bottles. Killed 'em dead.

That's not…that's not what this is. I look at the gun in my hands and my fingers shake. I'm helping Dad, right? I wouldn't…

God, I just wish my friggin' head would stop hurting…

Anne Marie looks scared. She's wide eyed, scared, just like the faces in the walls. Dad's got the point of the knife right next to her throat. She's been cut once. Her mom did that to her.

And I couldn't save her that time, either.

Head shot. Dad's taller than Annie Marie, at least I think he is. I keep blinking and things keep changing on me. 'm seeing stuff that isn't there. Black robes, tattoos…

I think I'm losing my freaking mind.

"I just…I just wanna help you, Dad." I can't talk any louder than a whisper.

"Is that what they told you, Dean?" Dad says quietly.

"You…you made Sam leave. I couldn't get the two of you to stop fighting..." I tighten my grip on the gun and Dad doesn't even blink. "I get it. I do. All of this. It's my fault." My voice cracks and my face gets wet. I sound like a damn girl. I swallow hard. Can't get past that lump in my throat. This isn't the way I wanted this to go at all.

The inside of my nose is prickling, like I'm gonna start bawling like a little bitch any minute. I take a deep breath, and my ribs twinge on me, but when I open my mouth again I'm steady. Calmer. "All my life I tried to take care of you and Sam. I tried. And this is the last thing I can do for you."

Dad nods. Like he understands now.

Like he gets it now.

I steady my hands and pull the trigger.

The gun clicks. There's no recoil.

All I hear is hissing and wailing all around me, from the faces, from Anne Marie. Her back is arched, her mouth's stretched wide open.

I keep pulling the trigger, even as Dad lets go and Ann Marie stumbles forward. I blink and it's not her anymore, just some tall bastard in a long black robe, pale skin. He's bald-headed, covered in tats all over. I think I've seen him before, but I'm not sure where.

You're not going anywhere yet, Deano. You got work to do, remember?

Walk up behind your Dad, shoot him twice in the head. Then he can rest.

My stomach starts cramping, hard and tight. I wanna hurl, but nothing comes up. My fingers jerk open and I drop the Colt. I hit the floor on my knees seconds later.

Dad…I nearly killed Dad…I've been beating on him all night long.

The things I said to him…

"I wasn't fine. Didn't want you to leave. Sam ditched us. And then you up and leave me. No word, no warning. How the hell else do you think I'm supposed to feel about that, Dad?"

"How the hell would you know this isn't me? I'm just an extra pair of hands, right? Go here, do this, kill that."

…the things I did….letting that thing with the tats touch me like that…

I smell blood, but it's not Dad. Dude with the tats is bleeding like a stuck pig. His blood splashes onto the floor and where ever it hits sizzles like acid, smoke that smells like rotten meat and shit.

Dad grabs Tattoo by the shoulder, spins him around, and slashes him again, from his belly to his throat.

Tattoo screams out, loud enough to shatter the windows set up high in the walls. Dad leaves the knife in him, raises his foot and punts him backwards into the pool.

The faces scream out then, and I'm digging my hands into my ears, anything to stop that fucking sound from eating my brain out. Everything around me goes white.

Dad's right next to me, right over me, and I draw back from him. "Dean? Dean! We gotta go, bud. Come on."

I let him put one arm around his waist, the other arm over his shoulders. He turns me towards the door and we haven't even taken a step when I hear splashing behind us and white hot pain makes my left leg buckle.

I know what I'm gonna see even before I turn around. Tattoo's half out of the pool, drenched in blood and water, and he's got me by the leg. His fingernails dig into my skin as he jerks me backwards, and Dad nearly face plants. He won't let go.

Bastard yanks me backward again, and he's too damn strong. Even with Dad holding on to me, I won't be able to make it.

My ribs are screaming now. Getting pulled in opposite directions. I don't have the breath for this, but I gotta try. "Dad, let go. Let go of me ---"

I'm not surprised when he does. Everybody leaves me, right? Everyone does. I can't read the look on Dad's face.

I'm jerked backward and the pain in my left leg burns all the way up my spine.

Tattoo's grinning as he pulls me back. "He's ours, hunter. We claimed him this night. Your eldest is ours now ---"

Dad pulls my Colt out of his jacket. He pops the clip back in and raises the gun. "The hell he is."

I can't hear the gunshot over all the screeching and hissing, but I feel it when Tattoo lets go of me. I glance back, see this large hole right between his eyes. Bastard looks surprised. Dead and surprised. He slides back into the pool and the water covers him up.

Then Dad's got one arm around my waist, and I stumble forward with him holding me up. We both nearly fall flat on our faces more times than I can count. I can't get my legs to work right, especially my left one.

The floor is moving and rolling underneath our feet, and just as we hit the door I turn around just enough to see the water in the pool turn blackish red. It's boiling. The water floods over the tiles and then I hear this godawful gurgling sound. The same sound that water makes going down a drain.

I try to move faster, but I can't get my damn legs to work. Dad holds me even tighter, and we're scrambling down the hall, as the hissing and screaming gets louder all around us. Smells like shit and sulfur and wet blood and the walls are screaming, crying.

We hit the doorway, turn into the hall leading to the exit door and it's miles away. I can barely keep my eyes open, and my body's too heavy. Dad pulls me along, and I wanna tell him to let go of me. He should. This is all because of me. He's gonna die because of me.

Because I was weak. Because I was stupid, but I can tell he's not gonna let go or listen to me.

Probably chew my ass out for being sloppy once we get outside.

If we make it outside.

The floor turns to mud the last few feet. Thick, slimy mud that weighs us both down. I can't help but think that I managed to get both of us killed, and odds are Sam will never find out what happened to Dad or me.

That gurgling sound behind us gets even louder, makes the hair at the back of my neck stand up. I glance back and the walls and the floors are folding into themselves, and now the floor is on a slant.

Dad grunts as he pulls me forward, and the last thing I remember is seeing his hand on that big brass door pull. Something deep inside my head breaks open, and I fall into the darkness that spills out.

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back. Now, Dean, go!"

I run and I run but my legs are too short and Sammy's so heavy but I'm not gonna drop him, not gonna drop him but I'm so scared and I can't breathe and Daddy told me to run, so I run until I get outside, I run and turn around and there's smoke and fire and I don't see Daddy and I don't see Mommy but I tell Sammy it's okay, Sammy, it's okay, it's gotta be okay, and I'm scared I'm so scared---

"Dean?"

Something's shaking me. Something's shaking my shoulder and I don't wanna open my eyes, don't wanna see what it is ---

"Hey! Dean!"

I jerk forward and I open my eyes when I feel this large hand on my chest.

Dad smirks at me. "Bout time you woke up, princess."

We're out. I'm sitting in the front passenger side of the Impala. Dad's got the door open, and he's kneeling beside me.

"You okay?"

I just stare at him. He doesn't look sick or old. Or tired. Just bruised and beat half to hell.

I did that. Me.

I stare at him long enough where it gets weird and awkward. I don't care.

Dad pulls out my Colt and for a moment I think he's either gonna pistol whip me or shoot me. I deserve either one. He pops the clip, looks at it, and then pops it back in. He doesn't give it back to me, puts it in his back waistband.

Don't blame him. I don't want it back.

Dad grins a little, jerks his head back towards the park. "Place collapsed in on itself. There's nothing but a sinkhole back there. I had to drag you back here to the car. You were pretty much out of it, Ace."

I huff when I hear that nickname. Ace. Hell, I don't deserve that anymore.

You need to help him, Dean. You're the only one who can.

Dad looks at me funny. "You sure you're okay?"

"Y-yeah. I'm fine." Oh yeah, I'm golden. Got a couple of busted ribs, played tongue hockey with some demonic bastard from hell while he and the gang were mind fucking me. Right now I feel like eating the barrel of my gun, Dad, so it's a damn good thing you didn't give it back to me. Oh yeah, I'm super. No doubt about it. I lean back against the bench seat. "What was all that?"

Dad shrugs. "Hellmouth, I think. Water can be used as a conduit to Hell. It's as good as anything else they could use. My guess is, they needed human blood to open it up all the way. That bastard with the tats was tainted. That's why he tried to drag you in. If they could get you to kill me, that would have opened it up all the way."

And after you take care of your father, we'll go visit Sam at Stanford. Teach him that he never should have left.

And I wanted to do what they said. God help me, a part of me wanted to.

I feel sick again, but I jump when Dad puts his hand on my arm.

"Dean? You still with me, bud?"

I nod. "Yeah."

Dad stares at me hard like he doesn't believe a freaking word I'm saying. "Okay. Now look, they got inside your head and twisted it all around. You got mindfucked. It happens, Dean. It does. There's no shame in it. Doesn't mean you're weak, or damaged."

"Has it…ever happened to you?"

Dad stands up. "Twice."

"Why didn't you ever mention it?"

"Didn't want to worry you. I came out okay. You will too." He closes the door and goes back to the trunk for something. I sit there and all I can hear is this voice inside my head.

I do everything I can for this fucking family, and they don't appreciate it. They never do…

I can't pretend I don't know who it is.

Dad couldn't keep Mom safe. Can't keep me and Sam safe. I got his back, but he never has mine…

It's me. It's my voice.

I see the way Sam looks at me sometimes, like he's so fucking smart, better than me, taller than me…

Seems to take forever for me to turn my body so that I put my feet on the ground. My head starts swimming when I lean forward and stand up. Dad's still back there with the trunk open. He can't see me, and I don't close the door.

I walk away from the car.

After what I did. The things I said…how the hell can he even stand to be around me? All the voices inside my head, the screaming….

I don't know where I'm going now. I just know I have to get away. Maybe I'll walk out in front of a bus or a truck. Find a highway overpass and jump into traffic.

Sam left. Dad always leaves me.

Only this time I think it's better that I leave first.

One more chapter than then we are finished, folks. Still more Dean angst and hurt. Comfort provided by none other than John Winchester himself. Will be posted on next Tuesday.