Chapter Two:
"Dean, c'mon wake up bud, it's time to go," John gently smoothed Dean's hair.
"I don't want to, five more minutes," came the sleepy reply.
"Dude, don't make me get ice, just get up. You wanna shower do it now, do it fast, you just wanna show up like this, fine, but get up."
"Breakfast?" came the pitiful reply.
"You don't get to eat, Dean, you can't even have anything to drink, or I'd let you have some coffee." He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently gripped the back of Dean's neck, thumb working the clenched muscles. "C'mon dude, let's go."
"I'm up," Dean whispered back, slipping his arms down so his hands were at his shoulders before pushing himself up.
"Just stay in your sweats, you're gonna be done and just want to sleep more, okay? Didn't sleep too well last night, didja?"
"Wasn't very tired," Dean mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"Go brush your teeth and whatever else you do in the mornings, then let's go."
"Yes sir," Dean pushed himself out of bed, pausing as if to make the bed, then reconsidering and just padding silently into the bathroom. Coming out, he looked more awake, and John smiled as encouragingly as he could.
"It won't take long, and you won't remember any of it, anyway, they're putting you under, don't worry about it. What'd you think's going to happen, huh?"
"I just…nothing."
John sighed heavily, "Dean, it's okay. Really, it won't hurt, and it shouldn't hurt after, either. You're gonna be fine. You'll feel better, okay?"
"Then they're they going to be giving me pills?"
"Antibiotics to keep you from getting an infection, and the pain pills are mostly to keep you sleepy and prevent any swelling or inflammation, okay? You shouldn't be hurting. Or you should at least be hurting less," John pointed out. Dean was silent in the car, and John put in "Back in Black" to soothe him. It seemed to work as he saw the tension fade from the lithe body.
John spent a nervous two hours in the waiting room before he was allowed to see Dean, who they were encouraging to stand up and walk into the next room where he could sit up and stay still. A nurse had a hand under his arm and he looked dazed. John stayed out of the OR but the moment Dean was over the threshold, he had his hand under Dean's other arm, and his boy looked at him in pure gratitude. John felt his heart soften when he saw the little boy still in his teenager. Lightly running a hand over Dean's head, he helped guide him into a chair, waiting for the effects of the drugs to wear off enough that he could function, and John could take him home.
Taking the bag of prescription pills, he thanked the nurse, who asked if they would be alright alone for a few minutes, she'd come back and check on them and then they could probably leave.
"How're you doin' there, buddy?"
Dean looked at him, almost like he was working through a fog, "I'm okay, Dad," he said, leaning into John's touch on his cheek. John smiled, lightly patting Dean's cheek before withdrawing his hand.
"Remember, I'll be home as soon as I can, okay? So behave for Mrs. Brown, she's doing us a favor."
"Just wanna go back to sleep," Dean's face crumpled slightly while he thought, "just like you said this morning," he managed, face smoothing. John laughed, ruffling his hair gently. The nurse came back in, seemed to check a few things that meant nothing to John, and then offered to get a wheelchair. John said he'd rather just carry Dean, unless it would hurt him. So, he carried Dean out of there, waking him up for a few seconds to get him into the passenger seat and letting him lie down, head on John's thigh.
Keeping his hand on Dean's head unless he needed both hands on the wheel, the drive was uneventful, other than there was a particularly decrepit looking house on the way. Making a face, John knew full well that he had put his boys into dumps like that and left them alone. If someone painted it and refurbished the porch, and put a new roof on maybe it would look like someone actually lived there. Other than the piece of shit El Camino in the front with the brown flaking paint. He'd seen that car in the lot at Sam's school, he hoped that wasn't a teacher's house. Seriously needed to up their pay, if that was the case.
With a shake of his head he was glad when the light turned. Back at the apartment building, he lifted Dean out of the car, laughing silently at his boy's muffled protests at being moved. Knocking lightly on Emily's door, she smiled at him easily, opening the door silently to let him in.
"Grabbed some blankets," she said, leading John to the couch where he deposited Dean, who, again started to fuss a little, waking up, green eyes wide in confusion. He looked around, taking stock of his surroundings before relaxing into the couch, pushing his face into the pillow. Unable to help himself, John grinned at his son's antics.
"If I can make this up to you, in any way…"
"John, it's no trouble. He's a good kid, and I'd rather he wasn't alone if he did need anything," she smiled. "I figure, if it were Lily, I'd want the same for her. Go back to work, before they sack you," she lightly pushed his shoulder, blue eyes dancing. Nodding, he left as quietly as possible. Emily laughed as Dean burrowed into the blankets, shuddering once and falling so deeply into sleep it seemed like he'd stopped breathing.
Lily got home at the end of the day, having found out she wasn't allowed to leave campus, and was just lucky not to have detention for having tried. She walked quietly over to the couch, smiling a little at her friend's rumpled appearance. One arm was slung off the edge of the couch, the other curled lightly over his stomach.
"Hey Sweetie," she turned to greet her mother.
"Hi Mom," she then twisted to look at Dean, "he okay?"
"Fine, woke up twice, but didn't want anything, he's doing just fine." It was weird to see him that still. Lily had never realized how careworn he looked until she saw him at peace like that. She slipped his homework out of her backpack, lightly placing it on the small coffee table next to the couch. Not that she thought he'd really want it. There was a reason they all usually did their homework together –it was never any fun alone. Pulling her own homework free, she looked at it, and flung it across the room, cringing when it made a lot of noise, but Dean didn't so much as twitch. Breathing out slow, she pulled a book from her bag and started reading. Dragonsdawn by Anne McCaffrey.
When Dean woke up he scared the hell out of her, and all he did was sit up.
"Oh my god!" she said, picking up her book and turning around to glare at him, considering her back had been against the couch, keeping guard, her mother teased. Looking at her, it took a few seconds for his eyes to really focus on her and then he seemed fine. "You need something?" she asked, he looked a little dazed. Shaking his head, he stopped, then nodded. Putting a hand over her mouth, she fought a smile.
"Water," he croaked, and she nodded.
"I'll be right back," she told him, gripping his arm reassuringly before she disappeared. Filling a glass with water, she returned, he looked like he was about to fall asleep on her again.
"Here," she offered. His eyes focused, his body becoming more alert as he carefully reached out, took the water, and drained it before handing it back.
"Thanks," he mumbled, voice stronger. "How long I been out?"
"I'm going to go get Sam right now, so not too long," she told him. "Just go back to sleep. He'll wake you up when he gets here, whether he wants to or not," she smiled. Nodding in weary agreement he laid back down and was promptly asleep.
Sam bounded in the door, "Is he okay?" Sam asked loudly, Dean groaned and shifted on the couch, sitting up and glaring at his brother.
"Ask him yourself," Mrs. Brown laughed, picking up the glass from the coffee table and refilling it before passing it to Dean. He blinked, and took his time drinking it.
"Dean, how're you feeling?" Sam asked, letting his backpack slide off his shoulders and hit the ground with a soft thud. He got into Dean's face, eyes huge with concern. Dean put out one hand, fingers splayed, and pushed Sam back by the forehead.
"I'm fine, Sammy, just tired. It's just the stuff they gave me, okay? I'm fine."
"You need to take these now," Mrs. Brown told him softly, handing him three different pills. Blinking, he looked at them, before taking them from her palm and putting them in his mouth, using a sip of water to wash them down. "Sam, let him sleep, okay? He'll be fine tomorrow, and you can drive him crazy, then? Okay?" Sam nodded.
"I'll do homework," he told her, settling with his back against the couch and pulling it out. Lily sighed, fetched her papers, and watched Dean as he fought to stay awake, and lost, eyes drooping shut. Lightly smoothing his cheek, she settled next to Sam.
"Me too, I guess," she told him, starting on math.
A few hours later John knocked quietly on the door, Lily opened it, and smiled at his anxious expression.
"Dean's fine, Sam's been an angel," she told him. A relieved and slightly ashamed grin broke out over John's face, and she was shocked at how much he looked like Dean. Quickly closing her mouth, she let him in, telling Sam quietly to pack up and get ready to go downstairs to his own apartment. "My mom's working, so I'm not going to bug her, if that's okay."
"Tell her I'm grateful," John said.
"She knows," she replied, lightly touching Dean's shoulder. "He made me promise," when she saw John's consternation. "Hey, your dad's here. And don't tell me I don't keep my promises," she told him, lightly holding his hand until he looked aware. Letting him go, she watched as he pushed himself up with a soft grunt, green eyes locking on his father's brown ones. Instantly at his side, John helped Dean onto his feet, looking at the homework and pills on top. Picking the pills up and rolling the homework around them, he handed it to Sam.
"Put this in your bag for me, and when we get into the apartment, put it on your brother's bed, okay? Then bring the pills to the couch."
"Yes sir," Sam said brightly, watching as Dean stretched himself out, standing up to his full height with a slight smile.
"Doesn't hurt, Dad, it doesn't hurt."
John laughed, and slipped his arm around Dean's shoulders.
"You realize that when those pain killers wear off you're going to be bitching at me about how bad it does hurt, right?" Although they knew it was a lie, Dean never told John when he was hurting. It was worse than pulling teeth to find out why his son wasn't behaving normally.
"Yeah," his voice was a little breathy, John noticed, but wasn't too concerned. He'd be alert once he'd slept long enough that the drugs weren't in his system.
"Wasn't so bad, though, was it? And you were scared," John teased gently, helping him down the stairs. Dean had a death grip on his shirt on the side, and his father knew it would be stretched out. Stumbling once, Dean tugged his body closer to John's instinctively, and seemed fairly startled by the slight trip. "Easy there, easy, I gotcha." Reminding himself that they could afford to live there because there wasn't an elevator, John helped Dean down the last few steps, Sam having been sent ahead to open the door and put his things down. Maybe put a frozen pizza in the oven. Considering Dean wouldn't be available to cook.
Settling Dean on the couch, where he was easily accessible and if he moved around or needed anything John would hear him, went without a hitch. While he was more alert because of the exercise it didn't take long before he was content to go back to sleep, face pressed against the back of the couch.
The weekend passed slowly, Dean did the homework he'd missed Friday, along with the in-class-work. John went in and made up a few hours of work on the weekend, figuring that Dean was fine, and if Sam needed anything it would be okay. Saturday was the day that Dean was laziest, and the Sunday he woke up around his 'usual' weekend hour, showered, dressed, and made breakfast for him and Sam. John being already gone. Probably checking around to see if there was a hunt, but there had been an incredible lull as of late in the paranormal activity.
Which told Dean that it was going to bust out again with a vengeance, and soon. And then they would have to leave. Feeling his throat tighten, he let Sam curl closer to him, and settled himself better on the armrest to accommodate his sibling. They were watching whatever cartoon Sam wanted, Dean didn't care anymore. Sam was his world, anyway, well Sam and John.
Monday came as a bit of a shock for Dean, because he knew he wouldn't be going to school, and also knew that he would not be picking Sam up, or leaving the apartment. In fact, he was supposed to go to Lily's and stay with her mother, but he didn't want to. Instead, he moved around the apartment and picked it up.
Dean didn't clean anything, but he could still put things away. He could unearth candy wrappers Sam thought he had hidden, but hadn't, and throw them into the trash, Touch the picture of his mother and father together, and swallow back the lump in his throat. It kept him from going insane from the singular aloneness of it all.
For a short while, he considered going down a floor to where there would at least be another living breathing being. Not for the first time, Dean wished he had a dog. Bobby had a dog, and so far no harm had come to him, in fact Rumsfeld was a strong useful animal. A protector. John said that apartments didn't allow pets, and that they couldn't afford food, or the other essentials, and he had no time to train it, and neither did his boys. Dean said 'yes sir' because he always did, what else was there to say?
When it came time for Sam's school to end, Dean was pacing the small room, wondering if Sam would be okay, and if anything would happen to him. It took all his self control and a little more besides to keep himself from going to pick Sam up himself, because he knew that Lily and Pete had said they would do it, and bring Sam home, safe and sound. Wondering if they would take Sam to the Browns' apartment, or the Winchesters' he debated again descending the stairs. But he wasn't weak, didn't need the company, and didn't want to show up late when he was supposed to have been there the whole time. His father would kill him, he knew. Would claim to have worried about him. For whatever reason, Dean could not fathom. All Dean wanted to prove was that he could take care of himself. Who else was there to do it, anyway? Mary was dead and gone. He took care of Sam, and he took care of John, he hadn't needed anyone taking care of him for years. At least, that was what he always told himself, because what else was there for him to believe?
Dean sighed heavily, counting the minutes, and then the seconds before he heard Sam's light chatter and moved to the door, wrenching it open and starting down the hallway, unable to admit to how lonely he'd been. It had been like when he'd had trouble in school and been completely isolated, and he hated it. Starting down the stairs, the stitches tugged into his flesh, but held, and he slowed down.
"Sam!"
"Dean?"
"Up here, Sammy." Hearing his brother's inarticulate cry, he also heard the heavy thumps as Sam pounded gracelessly up the stairs, almost bowling Dean over. Laughing heartily, Dean caught him, wrapping his arms around Sam in a hug.
"You're not supposed to be here," Sam pointed out, frowning. "You were supposed to be with Mrs. Brown, Dad's not going to be happy," he added, but his hazel eyes glowed with delight. Dean was up and moving around. It meant that Dean was better, and that everything else would be better, too.
"Dean!"
"Yeah?" he called, hearing the reproach in Lily's voice and wondering how fast he could get up the stairs and have the door locked. He had that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realized that he would fail miserably. She was already in his line of sight, and she looked concerned. Her worry flooded guilt through him, swallowing him alive and for a moment he thought he was drowning. Recovering with a hand on the rail, his other on Sam's shoulder, he forced a smile.
"What're you doing up? You're supposed to be healing, you idiot! And on top of that, you weren't supposed to be alone all day!" He started down the stairs.
"I just needed to clean up the apartment, Dad doesn't have time, and Sam was at school, so I figured since I had the time, I'd use it. Besides, it's not like your mom was worried, she didn't come after me."
"She probably figured you wanted to be alone, and was going to let you, because she's like that," Lily hissed, brown eyes blazing. Sam moved subtly between them. Deflating, Lily sighed. "You might as well come now, then. It's where your dad thinks you're going to be."
Dean caved with a slight nod, fingers still pressed into Sam's shoulder. The ten year old didn't complain, just reached up to grip Dean's wrist gently to help keep him steady. Following Lily down the stairs, at the bottom she turned around and flung her arms around him.
"God you're such an idiot!" she snapped. "You're going to do something stupid and get yourself killed, or, or you're going to find someone bigger and stronger than you and, I know you, you'll pick a fight and he'll kill you, just because you can't be bothered to take care of yourself!" Dean startled at the hug, generally not a part of his life, hugging. Cautiously hugging her back, Sam looked concerned.
"Dean takes care of us, and himself," Sam protested stoutly, unsure of how to react. Lily pulled away with a slight laugh.
"I was just, I was worried about you, okay? Try and be careful?"
"Yeah, I'll be back at school tomorrow, y'know," Dean told her with a shrug, not understanding why she was still worried about him. They were friends, he knew that. "Where's Pete?" he asked, hoping for a third party to diffuse the situation.
"Dean, you're up!" Pete laughed, moving smoothly to his friend's side as Dean lightly punched his shoulder in greeting.
"Why you sounding so surprised, huh? Of course I'm up," Dean laughed, pleased that at least someone didn't expect him to be an invalid for the rest of his life. "Dude, how long you think a few stitches were gonna keep me down, huh?"
"Long enough for me to come jack all your stuff, man, you know how it works." Dean frowned.
"Again? Dude that's not cool at all. I'm gonna have to kick some," he glanced at Sam, "butt when we get back to school," Dean said. "He's got it out for you and your crew," and he'd be damned if he didn't say something about it.
"It's cool, we lived with it before you, and we'll live with it after, the way I figure it," Pete shrugged. "At least he hasn't started a purge or something, expelling us all or searching our lockers."
"It's because he knows he won't find anything!" Lily said heatedly.
"The four of you going to stay out there all day?" Mrs. Brown asked. "Get inside before you drive all the neighbors crazy."
They trooped in easily and quietly, Dean choosing to sit on the floor leaned up against the couch, while Lily chose to sit on it, next to Sam, leaving Pete to sit down next to Dean.
"Got your homework," Pete grinned.
"I hate you," Dean said by way of thanks.
"I know, I love you, too," he handed Dean a sheaf of papers. "You coming tomorrow?"
"If my dad'll let me. He's taking this whole surgery thing way too seriously," Dean muttered, given all the times he'd been hurt, this was just ridiculous. Although, he was acting like a normal dad, with a normal life, and normal kids. How long would it last, Dean was forced to wonder? How long would he have friends, and at least the semblance of a home? Knowing John, not much longer. "I'll at least be picking Sam up myself tomorrow."
"Not by yourself, we're coming, too. Because knowing you, you'll pass out on the way there in the middle of a street and get run over," Lily told him sarcastically, ruffling his hair to annoy him.
"I'm not a possum," he pointed out, irritably.
"No, you're right," she told him, watching him start to look appeased, "They don't talk." Pete laughed, Sam grinned a little, but was too engrossed in his homework to really listen. Dean sulked.
"You're a very cute possum," she told him with a laugh, ruffling his hair again, until he caught her hand and tugged her physically off the couch.
"Enough!" Mrs. Brown told them, for all they were laughing, she knew it would escalate, with kids, it always did. Frowning a little when she saw Dean's guilt-ridden anxious look she smiled at him, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "You kids want some cookies? There's a whole bunch leftover from a meeting I had to go to," she might have worked from home, for the most part, but she still worked for a company, and was required to attend said meetings. "I figured I'd bring them back."
Dean glowered at her slightly, considering he hadn't been allowed to eat anything he wanted to, because of the surgery on his insides. "You can have them, too, Dean," she laughed, and he turned red, looking down at the ground suddenly. He sure tried to be badass, but he was just a sweet kid under it all. Maybe one that was a little too adult, had seen a little too much, but all the same. He was just a kid.
"Can I have two?" Sam asked, and she laughed again, seeing Dean's horrified expression.
"I was thinking three each, they're small," she told Sam, and Dean looked slightly mollified, but when she turned her back she heard his angry whisper as he chastised his sibling.
When John knocked lightly on the door, Dean had the decency to look absolutely ashamed of himself.
"Hey Dean," John said with a slight frown.
"Hey Dad," he whispered.
"Dad!" Sam sprung up from the couch, moving around it to hug his father. He was still young enough that he could get away with it, but only just.
"How'd you do all day?" John asked Dean, hauling Sam up into his arms, for all Sam really was too big for that. Much too big, and damn, he was heavy, too.
"I did good," he said, casting a sideways glance at Lily who said nothing at all, looking at her homework intently, before picking up the long emptied cookie plate and carrying it into the kitchen.
"John, good to see you, work go alright?" Emily asked with a casual smile.
"Yeah, it was good." He shuffled uncomfortably while Dean stood up, gathering his and Sam's things. "Listen, I just wanted to thank you again for this…"
"Dean's no trouble at all, and neither's Sam. You raised two very well behaved boys, it's no trouble. You don't need to be constantly thanking me," she told him with a grin.
"Southern manners," John shrugged in defense, thinking for the first time that Emily Brown was actually very beautiful. Catching his son's glance at him, John shrugged slightly. Nothing would happen, Dean knew that just as well as John did. "C'mon boys, let's head upstairs," he said.
Out in the hallway, he looked at Dean. "So what aren't you telling me, that no one's going to rat you out, huh?" he asked seriously.
Dean shifted uncomfortably until John had him by the jaw, lifting his chin up so their eyes met.
"Daaad," Sam complained, tugging on his other hand. "I wanna finish my homework, and you've got the keys," he tugged again.
"We're not finished," John told Dean, before allowing Sam to drag him away. Dean nodded unhappily but kept his mouth shut.
"Who cleaned the apartment?" John asked, looking around inside, noting the neatness of it, and the fact that the thick dust over the majority of the surfaces had been marred by the movement of the objects on top. Noting his eldest's blush that spread up from his cheeks to turn his entire face crimson, John sighed a little. "You stayed here, alone, instead of doing what I told you." Not even an accusation, just simple fact.
"I'm sorry," Dean mumbled, not repentant at all.
"It's fine," John sighed, not having the energy or time to deal with any of it. He was fairly sure there was a hunt over in the next state, from the sounds of things, probably a wendigo. Which was not the most dangerous thing he'd faced, but it was up there, and he wasn't sure if he should leave or take his boys when he went on the hunt. It'd been nice, playing at being normal for a while, but now he wasn't so sure he could.
"Dad, I…uh, I've got homework," he scuffed quietly at the tiled floor of the kitchen, eyes down on his battered tennis shoes.
"We outta get you some boots some time," John remarked quietly, noting the level of destruction the months had wreaked on Dean's shoes. "They'll last longer, y'know?"
"Yeah," he brought one foot up lightly tugging at the failing sole of his chucks, before shrugging a little, foot dropping back to the ground.
"Go'n, do your homework," he pulled a beer from the fridge, grateful that Dean had found time to restock them, and then idly twisted the bottle in his hand, wondering if his boy had been drinking the beer, restocking to hide it? No. Dean didn't even like beer, John had let him try it once, it had not been at all what Dean had expected. Although, as far as John Winchester was concerned, hopefully the lesson would last long, and Dean would never turn to alcohol for sustenance and comfort. Smiling grimly at the irony of his thoughts, he took a long pull of the beer.
Dean finished his homework, closing the textbook with a sigh before rubbing at his eyes wearily. Looking at the clock he froze, looking into the kitchen for signs of his father. Knowing he'd stayed up way later than he was supposed to, or even allowed to he quietly stood up. Padding as softly as he could into his bedroom, pausing only to pull his shoes off and then slipped into bed, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and hoping he hadn't been heard.
John's footsteps slowly thudded closer, and Dean knew he was screwed. "Hey, how're you feeling?" he asked, and Dean turned to stare incredulously at him. "Dude, don't worry about it, not like you've got school tomorrow, right?" Dean slowly tugged his jeans off, picking up flannel pajama bottoms and pulling them on.
"I thought you said I could go tomorrow," he protested weakly.
"And I also said you were supposed to stay with Mrs. Brown today," John reminded him gently.
"I'm sorry, I just, I was feeling better, and things were a mess, and you're always yelling at me to clean it up…." John held up a hand.
"It's fine, just make sure you pick Sam up from school tomorrow, okay?"
Dean smiled, nodding his head. "Yes sir, you know I will," the relief almost palpable.
"But Dean?"
"Yes sir?"
"Don't disobey me again."