Innocence Implied

Disclaimer: Don't own anything to do with Supernatural, sigh just play with the boys and then send em home again...More or less in the same condition as when I er...

Summary: Dean is 21 and Sam is 17.

This is the continuation of my Innocence Trilogy so if you haven't read them it might pay to go and read them first and then come back here. I promise the story will be here waiting for you when you get back.

S—D

Chapter : 13 Time is on your side.

Then:

Dean drew in each breath as though he was breathing in shards of glass; it was loud and painfully cutting. Bracing himself against the carcass of a once proud automobile Dean wanted to shout out for his brother but nothing came out loud enough for anyone let alone his little brother to hear.

'Sam?' he croaked out when looking around frantically for a clue on where to head next and his gaze dropped onto a hunched body lying too still on the ground, wedged beneath the remnants of cars and assorted chunks of metal. 'Sammy?'

Stumbling slightly Dean forced himself to keep moving until he dropped heavily onto his knees next to the very familiar body. 'Ah damn it Sammy what did you do?' he asked breathlessly when he saw the bloodied knife clutched in the whiter-than-white hand. With shaking fingers Dean felt for a pulse, for any sign of life in his little brother.

Now:

The shrill ringing of John's cell phone cut piercingly through the quietness of the junk yard, cursing loudly he pulled it out and didn't bother to check the caller ID before answering it.

'What?'

'John … there's an abandoned car … one of the fixers I had … it's smashed into one of my fences, the western fence … John there's blood all over the place but it looks like Sam went back into the yard.' Bobby explained without any pre-empting, 'I'm gonna come in from the western end and meet up with ya.'

'Thanks.' John snapped the phone closed and with a trembling hand squeezed the bridge of his nose, his eyes scrunched tightly as he tried to digest the information Bobby had given him.

'What is it John?' Jim asked his concern growing for his unofficially adopted family, 'what did Bobby find?'

'Huh? Oh a – a car Sam must've boosted, he found it crashed into the western fence,' John opened his eyes and stared down at his friend and mentor. Jim just managed to stifle a gasp when he saw the absolute emptiness in his dark gaze.

'John what is it? Did he find Sam?'

'No! No … but there was blood … a lot of blood ahh Bobby said that it looked like Sam headed back into the yard.'

'Okay we're heading west then?'

'Yeah ahh any sign of … ahh … any sign of Dean?' John asked rubbing the heel of his hand against his eyes he tried to rid himself of the fast approaching migraine, 'gah not now.'

'John?'

'M'fine just a headache,' John snapped as he snapped his shoulders back and swallowed hard on the rising bile, 'just a freaking headache.'

Jim watched as his younger friend lurched away from him, using the carcasses of old cars to support himself with and for just a moment Jim was cast back in time.

A constant ringing on his doorbell had Jim Murphy hurrying down his hallway ready to scold the person who was leaning on the doorbell, he pulled the door open when he saw a young man standing on his doorstep with a crying baby in his arms and a small silent boy wrapped around one leg. The look on the man's face was enough to crack the wall of the cleric's heart, 'can I help you?'

'You Pastor Murphy … Jim Murphy?' The young man ground out as he swayed slightly and then visibly winced with pain when his baby's crying escalated.

'Yes I am … please come inside where it's warm.' Jim stepped aside and let the small family into the rectory. He led them to the living room where he had a fire burning and pushed the younger man into the winged chair next to it. Immediately the small boy climbed up onto his father's knee and cuddled against the baby. Within seconds of his making contact with the little one; the screaming calmed down to a panting wail and then finally down to a soft mewling.

'I'm sorry for the intrusion but I was given your name and address by Missouri Mosley.' A pair of bloodshot dark eyes stared at him, 'she told me that you could help.'

'Missouri sent you?' Jim frowned and scratched at his beard, 'why don't I make us some hot coffee while you fix the baby up and then we'll talk.'

'Thanks Pastor Murphy.'

'The name is Jim.'

'I'm John Winchester, my sons Dean and baby Sammy.'

S—D

'Are you coming or what Jim?' John snapped as he once again rubbed his eyes in a vain attempt to scrape out the pain hiding behind them.

'Coming of course John,' Jim sighed over the years John Winchester had not changed in his pigheadedness or his abruptness.

After making up a tray of coffee and sandwiches and a discrete call to Missouri Jim made his way back to the living room. He had to smile when he saw the two little ones sound asleep and curled around each other on the floor in front of the fire, their heads resting on one of his throw cushions. Putting the tray down he picked up one of the many multi-coloured crocheted afghan rugs his female parishioners had made him over the years and placed it over the brothers.

Putting the food and drinks on the table under the window Jim asked John to join him so they could talk and keep an eye on the brothers at the same time. He sat for a few seconds watching John try to calm the tremors in his hands and swallowing convulsively before got up and left the room for a moment.

John glanced up when he saw a hand in front of his face holding two white tablets and a glass of water on the table by his own hand. 'What the?' he ground out, he hadn't realised that the Pastor had left the room again.

'For your migraine,' Jim said succinctly before taking his seat once again, 'don't be stubborn and just take them.'

'Fine,' John grumbled unable to stifle a soft moan, 'thanks.'

'So John what do you need of me?' Jim asked after he watched as the tablets had been swallowed and the coffee cup drained dry.

'Missouri told me that you can teach me how to hunt the supernatural.' John said as he helped himself to more coffee.

'Why would you want to know about that?' Jim asked, although Missouri had given him a quick back story on the phone, he wanted to hear it from John himself.

S—D

Dean pulled Sam's limp body against his chest and cradled him tightly, not caring about how much blood he got on himself, or the tears cascading down his face. All he cared about was Sam's erratic breathing and faint heartbeat. 'Hold on Sam, please hold on for me.' He chanted pressing his left hand against the wound in Sam's stomach while he searched his pockets for his cell phone with his right. A soft gurgling cough came from his brother as Sam stirred slightly, his head lolled back slightly giving Dean a clear view of the damage done to Sam's throat.

Stealing himself against the onslaught of more tears Dean lifted his phone up a little so he could squint at the contacts menu. He held his breath while he waited for his dad to answer his call. 'Dammit dad where are you?'

'Dean!' John's voice came through the tinny speaker against Dean's ear, 'where are you?'

'About ten feet from the fence line, I found him dad … I found him.' Dean croaked out before dropping the phone. Growling low in his throat he crouched over Sam as he watched the perceived threat advance towards them. 'Get away!'

'Dean boy, it's me Bobby.' A familiar voice ground out.

Dean blinked furiously to clear his sight, finally he could focus on Bobby's craggy features, 'ah Bobby thank god.'

'Is he?'

'No, no but he's in a bad way.' Dean said though he refused to move Sam away from his embrace.

Bobby picked up Dean's discarded phone when he heard John's thunderous voice calling from it, he quickly explained where they were and that both of the boys were alive and now safe.

S—D

'S-sorry De…' A barely audible whisper fell from Sam's lips; Dean glanced down at his brother's unfocussed and glassy looking green eyes and tried for a smile albeit a tremulous one.

'Hey Sammy … no – no stay with me kiddo no more sleeping,' Dean stroked Sam's cheek, 'talk to me Sammy.'

'C-Claude … no – no m-more.'

The rumble of Bobby's truck creeping closer startled the two brothers and Sam let out a cry of pure unadulterated agony. 'I'm so sorry Sammy,' Dean said as he tried to comfort his brother knowing that there was more pain imminent for his traumatised sibling.

'Dean? Sam?' John jogged towards his sons as he finally found them, each footfall sending shards of white pain through his head but he pushed it away from his awareness as he dropped to his knees next to them, 'ahh boys … Sammy?'

'Dad-dy?' Sam rolled his head towards the direction of his father's voice, 'm'sorry …'

'Shh son, just rest now you're safe Sammy, you're safe.'

'Cl-Claude … n-n-not … g-g-g-gone,' Sam stammered, his eyes drooping as the effort exhausted him. He had so much to say to his family, to his brother but the words were too hard to find, to push out. His breathing stuttered as bubbles of blood appeared on his lips, he wanted to let go and to feel no more. But then he heard Dean's voice calling him and just then Sam knew. He couldn't leave his brother, not yet.

S—D

John sat with his head cradled in his hands, hunched over he balanced his elbows on his lap and wept. The medication for his migraine had finally kicked in and now the pain was downgraded to a dull ache and the nausea was fading into an unwanted memory, but he would rather have the pain of the migraine than what is facing him and his family from now on.

Dean and Sam lay together on the double bed their father normally sleeps in; Jim had managed to stitch up the self-inflicted stab wound without too much stress. It was shallow and clean missing anything vital and any major arteries. Positioned just below his sternum it could have been fatal if Sam had used a longer blade and more force, thankfully he was only armed with his pen-knife.

They had painstakingly washed and cleaned all of Sam's existing and new wounds, including the multitude of cuts and bruises he had received during his foray into the salvage yard. Jim and Bobby went on a hunt for something to use as a splint for Sam's knee, without his brace Sam needed something to help stabilise his damaged joint. Now with his bound and splinted knee resting on a pile of pillows, and dressed in clean clothes, Sam looked almost his old self again. More bruised, battered and ill looking but beneath it all, he was starting to look more like Sammy again.

After submitting to Jim's ministrations once he was satisfied that Sam was going to be alright Dean climbed up on the bed next to his baby brother; minutes later they were both in deep, drug assisted sleeps with Sam's head resting on Dean's shoulder.

John sat next to his sons keeping vigil over them, while Jim and Bobby made sure that the house was secure and all of the protections and wards were in place. The only times he had left his sons was to shower, toilet breaks and the one meal he was forced downstairs to eat.

S—D

'What do you want to do about Claude?' Bobby asked John as the three men sat around the kitchen table while they ate their stew and nursed their beers.

'Just as soon as I know that Sam's gonna … as soon as Sam's out of danger then we go and smoke the fucker,' John said before draining his beer standing slowly he went to the fridge and helped himself to another can. He leant against the bench, he took a big swig from his beer and then turned back to the fridge; he pulled out another three cans, went back to sit at the table and then started to pick at his food once again. 'What?' John asked looking up at the two men staring at him.

'Sam's going to be alright John, both of your boys are going to be alright,' Jim said, 'they're going to need a lot of support and understanding to – to even deal with what has happened to them but they're both fighters, they'll survive John.'

'They don't need a shrink getting to them …' John growled as he glared at Jim, 'they don't need any of that shit.'

'I didn't mean a counsellor or therapist of any sort John,' Jim said patiently, 'we'll be there for them but …'

'But what?'

'They might not open up to us ya freaking great idjit,' Bobby said angrily, 'ya can't just sweep this up and forget any of it happened.'

'I'm not … I'm not going to do that Bobby, but these are my boys Bobby I know what's right for them.' John shot back defensively.

S—D

Dean opened his eyes and tried to workout where he was and what woke him when he felt Sam's trembling and it all flooded back in all of its glorious technicolour. 'Oh God,' he gasped as he fought to control his rebellious stomach, scrambling off the bed he barely made it to the bathroom when he expelled the tiny amount of bile and putrid fluids from his stomach; the last remnants of the drugs and food forced into him by Ed.

Wearily he washed his face and rinsed out his mouth before lifting his head to gaze at his reflection in the small mirror above the basin. The face staring back at him was one of a stranger, a stranger he hated for the weakness he saw, for the submissiveness he could see in the dull green eyes. With a roar of pure rage he pounded the stranger's face with his fists, shattering the glass into long jagged ridges and cracks.

Ignoring the biting pain from his split and bleeding knuckles, Dean continued to pummel the fractured image, as his anger grew into a white rage. Spittle mixed with mucus and tears as he ranted insensibly with his knees buckling Dean collapsed bonelessly to the floor, he pulled himself in as tightly as he could, wrapping his arms around his knees he lay there huddled against the wall, banging his head impotently against the tiles.

S—D

The sounds of smashing glass and screaming made the three senior hunters jump up and move without hesitation or thought, John led the small group up the stairs only to come to skidding halt just outside the bathroom. 'I've got this one,' he said without turning around as he crept into the bathroom and lowered himself down next to his eldest son lying stricken on the bathroom floor. 'Can you check Sam for me?'

'Yeah sure John,' Jim answered while Bobby went to gather up more first aid supplies from downstairs silently grumbling about having to have a mini hospital stocked up for when the Winchesters were in his house.

S—D

'Dean … son hey can you look at me?' John spoke softly and moved in slow deliberate actions to make sure he didn't spook Dean any further.

'D-Dad?' Dean blinked slowly as he tried to focus on the face floating above him. 'D-d-don't l-look at me.'

'Son look at me, you have nothing to be ashamed of,' John tried once again to get through to his eldest but Dean shook his head before he started banging it against the tiles again; muttering incoherently he withdrew from his father both mentally and physically.

John moved closer straining to hear what Dean was muttering, his heart breaking once again when he heard the repeated words, 'fucking useless sonovabitch.'

'Ah son,' John sighed as he sat next to his boy on the tiled bathroom floor with shards of broken glass scattered about them. How the fuck do I fix this? Can I fix this or will I make it worse? Would they be better off without me?

S—D

'Dean?' Sam called out for his brother as he started to stir, he tried to open his eyes but the effort was too much, 'n-n-no m'not Sean … n-not Sean.'

'It's alright Sam, hush now you're going to be alright.' Jim tried to sooth the victimised and traumatised youth, 'Dean'll be back soon, it's going to be alright.'

'N-no, pl-pl-please no … need De-Dean.' Sam cried out, flailing his arms weakly in the air he tried to push the unknown threat away, he wanted his brother, why isn't he here? Dean's always here? 'Dean!'

Jim looked up as Bobby came in carrying more first aid supplies, 'this is so wrong Bobby, just so wrong.' He said shaking his head sadly.

Bobby put the bundle of things on the dresser and turned to look at Sam who lay writhing on the bed, his skin slick with perspiration shone sickly in the fading daylight, 'John and Dean still in there?'

'Yes I think so, I haven't heard anything from there for a little while,' Jim said his voice tinged with sadness and weariness.

'Right I'll be back,' Bobby headed to the bathroom and pushed the door wide open, 'time to git yer son outta there and onto his bed John.' He said his tone brooking no argument.

'Dean he's …' John let his voice trail off; he had been sitting wallowing in his own pity-party since Dean had effectively blocked him out. Without looking up at Bobby John shook his head and rubbed his eyes tiredly before he took the time to really look at his son. 'Dean … Dean time to get up.' John waited for a moment and then straightened his shoulders and set his mask firmly in place, 'Dean Winchester get your ass off that floor right now.' He ordered knowing that it was the only way to get Dean to respond; with a big sigh he watched as his boy did just that.

Dean refused to look up at his father or uncle instead he shuffled past them with his gaze downcast and shoulders slumped, he made a wide birth around the two men not wanting to chance any physical contact with them. Moving stiffly Dean headed towards the far side of the bed neatly sidestepping Jim before stopping to sit on the edge. With a small grunt of pain he lowered himself onto the bed and curled up next to Sam.

'Leave us alone,' he finally spoke although he continued to refuse to look at all of them.

'Dean please …' Jim tried to get through to him but stopped when he saw the look on Dean's pale face.

'I said get the fuck out of here and leave us alone!' Dean yelled, pulling Sam close to him he snarled at his father when John tried to intervene, 'get away, don't you touch him, don't you ever touch him.'

'Dean … son please …'

'Don't you dare, you were supposed to protect us dad where were you? That shit shouldna happened to us, to Sammy … you're our father, you're supposed to look after us and protect us. Why didn't you protect us? Why didn't you protect Sammy?' Dean threw the questions at his father, but for all his bluster and his age he sounded like a hurt and lost little boy, 'fathers are meant to protect their sons not hunt ghosts.'

'Dean please calm down.' Jim tried to defuse the situation, but Dean tightened his grip around Sam and curled his lip in a snarl when the preacher tried to move closer to them, 'Dean?'

'Just leave Jim … just leave and take him with you.' Dean said indicating his father with a jut of his chin, 'me and Sam are gonna be just fine.'

'Sammy? What about you? What do you want?' John tried a different tact when he saw that Sam had his eyes open and was aware of the drama around him.

'Dean … just want De.' Sam whispered burrowing his face against his brother's chest, he had no idea what all of the yelling was about, or why they were all so angry but he had Dean next to him and his big brother would know what to do and how to fix it.

John opened his mouth to argue when he felt a hand grip his arm and yank him out of the bedroom, 'what the … what the fuck do you think you're doing Singer?'

'Gitting ya outta there before you do something even more stupid,' Bobby said pushing John against the wall, 'fighting with Dean now? John for fuck's sake calm down and think for a minute.'

'He can't talk to me like that and get away with it … Now get outta my way.'

'Stop it!' Bobby pushed John against the wall once again, 'those boys need time, they don't know which way is what at the moment and are scared of their own shadows.'

'I think I know what my boys need more than you Singer.'

'Git yerself downstairs now Winchester or I swear to God I'll fill ya so full of buckshot the sun will shine through the holes.' Bobby stood his ground barring John's way to back to the bedroom.

TBC