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.

Author's Note: Please accept my heartfelt and profound apologies for taking so long in updating this story. Real life has become reality-bites lately, between studying for my MA, family problems and a few health issues time has become a figment of my overworked imagination and mind. LOL One good thing is that I have found a wonderful man who is a huge support for me now and very encouraging. I am hoping to have this story wrapped up in the next two chapters and then there will be the final instalment … A snapshot of the boys' lives as they become the hunters we know and love and as they try to rid themselves of their own inner demons… But for now here is the next chapter!

Warning: Tissues alert!

S—D

Chapter : 14 Shattered Hearts, Shattered Dreams.

Then:

'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.

Now:

Jim eased himself down on the stool next to the bottom steps of the staircase. Bone-weary didn't come close to describing how exhausted and emotionally spent he felt. Not only for the fear and sympathy for the physical pain the Winchester brothers were in, but for their emotional states of mind. One just a teenager and the other barely an adult; and yet both were dealing with trauma and pain on an unimaginable scale. Their fear was more than palpable; Jim could taste it as it permeated the air around them.

Hot, thick tears cascaded down his craggy features and then dripped in a painstakingly slow pattern from his beard. These two boys he has known for almost their entire existences; were facing a battle just to survive the night out let alone the rest of their lives.

Taking his glasses off, Jim stretched his neck and rubbed the bridge of his nose; a feeling of being watched descended over him and he glanced up to see a pair of solemn green eyes peering up at him over the edge of his desk. 'Hello Dean.' He smiled softly at the small child, 'would you like to come closer?'

The little boy shook his head but continued to stare unblinkingly at the preacher unnerving him slightly. Pushing back his chair Jim slowly rose and stepped around the desk to stand in front of his young visitor before crouching down to meet Dean at his own eye level. Even though he was only four years old, Dean had the look of an ancient soul scarred with too many traumas to shine as brightly as it should for his tender age.

Jim took in the sight of this little person dressed in clothes clearly a size or more too big, with blond hair highlighted with the faintest hint of gingery-red cut in rough and uneven spikes, a spattering of freckles across high cheekbones and large luminous green eyes framed with sandy lashes fixed in an unwavering and slightly unnerving stare.

The Winchester family had crossed his threshold a week ago and as far as he was aware, Jim hadn't heard the child utter a sound, even when he cried it was in silence.

'So Dean where is your brother?' Jim asked in another futile attempt to draw him into ending his silence. The boy tilted his head slightly as he seemed to mull over the question and then pointed to the travel cot in the corner and then pressed a finger to his lips. 'Ah so he is sleeping is he?' Jim smiled and held his hand out, 'want to check him with me?'

Dean nodded his head as he ever so slowly extended his own hand to clutch the bigger one as tightly as he could.

The rectory was so quiet Jim could hear the slight snuffling of the baby sleeping and John's baritone as he recited Latin phrases but it was the one tiny little voice that sounded loudest of all. 'My Sammy,' was all that was uttered but it sounded like the most beautiful hymn the preacher had ever heard.

Jim stood and stretched his aching back and neck, before heading towards the kitchen only to be nearly knocked clear across the room by an enraged John Winchester. 'What the …? John what is it?'

'Ask Singer,' John hissed as he stormed out of the building without looking at Jim, or pausing to see if he was alright. Moments later an engine roared to life and the sound of burning rubber filtered into the house.

A door slammed and Jim turned to see a red-faced Bobby Singer standing next to him with his rifle cocked and ready to fire. 'Bobby?'

'That friggin' idjit go?' Bobby snapped out the question and then quickly adjusted his tone and his demeanour when he saw Jim on the floor, 'are you alright?'

'Well aside from being barrelled over by hurricane Winchester I'm just peachy keen Bobby thanks for asking.' Jim said with a touch of heat to his tone that sounded so uncharacteristic for the man it caused Bobby to snort out a chuckle and put the safety back on his rifle. Reaching out his hand the salvage yard owner helped his friend up and guided him to the sofa, 'are you alright there Jim?'

'I'm fine perhaps a bruise or two but that's all,' Jim said as he shifted his position slightly, he could already feel the ache flooding down his spine and the stiffening of his muscles, 'so care to enlighten me on what happened with John?'

'The idjit's gone, told him to git and that I'm gonna fill him with buckshot if he comes back.'

'Oh Lord, what happened Robert?'

'Don't you start on me James,' Bobby said without any anger in his voice, 'idjit reckons that those boys are better off without him. He'd do 'em more good hunting that blasted demon than seeing to them.'

'Ahh John, John, John,' Jim sighed and shook his head he had guessed as much but hearing the words made it all the more real.

'He's gone and abandoned them jist when they need him the most.' Bobby pushed his baseball cap back and scratched his scalp before tugging it back down and he bore an undecipherable look on his face as he glanced up the stairs, 'they think their daddy's ashamed of em already and now … selfish freaking idjit.'

'John has his own inner demons he has to conquer Robert, his anger …'

'His anger will git the better of him one day and will destroy whatever ties he has with those two boys,' Bobby said as he went to the side cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, 'I love those two boys as my own Jim, they's family even if they aint blood and for John to turn his back on em …'

'I feel the same way Bobby but for now all we can do is give them all of the love and support we can until John is able too.' Jim took the proffered drink and relished the slight burn as the liquor slid down his throat, 'it's all we can do Bobby.'

S—D

Even though Sam knew that Dean was lying snug against him, he lay as still as he possibly could, only allowing himself short, shallow breathes when needed. His eyes itched and felt as though someone had pushed him face down in sand – filled with grit. He knew he had failed in his last bid to escape from the remnants of his life, he could feel the stitches pull slightly on his stomach but there was no real pain. He was numb, random song lyrics came to mind as he lay there trying to workout why he was hovering and not moving anywhere. The child is grown, the dream is gone. I have become comfortably numb. The song thrummed through his thoughts and dominated his mind. He could vaguely remember listening to Pink Floyd's Another Brick in the Wall with Dean one night, and for once he wished he could remember all of the song.

'Sammy?' Dean asked for a third time, as he slowly became aware of his brother humming tunelessly. Sliding himself up the bed until he was resting against the headboard Dean looked down at Sam, a deep frown forming as he watched. Sam barely breathed, his eyes slitted open and his stare fixed on the ceiling, his features lax and colourless. For all intents and purposes save for the slight rise and fall of his chest Sam appeared dead.

When Sam continued to show no awareness of him, Dean ramped up his attempts to gain Sam's attention or something, anything to show that his brother was still in there. 'Sam Winchester up and at em now!' He ordered in his best John Winchester impersonation. In agonisingly slow increments Sam started to show some awareness of his surroundings and of his brother. Blinking slowly, lethargically Sam turned his head stiffly in Dean's direction the teen's normally bright green eyes were dull and almost black in colour. 'Sammy you hearing me dude? You've got me more than worried here … hey bro come on give me something.' Dean hated hearing the begging notes in his voice but if it got through to Sam he was willing to beg continuously.

'Dean?' Sam's whisper was barely audible a breath forced through a tight and abused throat.

'Hey dude heard ya hummin' … care to share with the class?' Dean asked as he gingerly sat up and reached for the full glass of water on the bedside table. 'Here just sip it though.' He helped Sam move up the bed slightly and then held the glass to Sam's lips and waited patiently for his little brother to sip the liquid. The look of relief on Sam's face managed to garner an almost smile from Dean, 'yeah that's it dude nice and slow.'

'Numb…' Sam mumbled as he turned his face slightly from anymore water.

'Random … what's numb?'

'Song … Numb from The Wall.' Sam managed to get the words out and then looked up at his brother, with a look akin to a kicked puppy needing some sort of encouragement.

'The Wall? Ahh Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb?' Dean gave Sam a full on grin, 'see I knew that my tastes would rub off on ya.' He said affectionately, 'so that's what you were trying to hum?'

'I was?' Sam asked frowning slightly, 'don't … know … feel … numb.'

'Dude you feelin' okay now? I mean you got pain or anything?' Dean asked watching his brother intently for any telltale physical signs but Sam lowered his gaze and gave the slightest shake of his head. 'That's okay but Sammy you tell me if you need anything okay?'

'Kay.' Sam sniffed and moved slightly closer to Dean relishing his brother's warmth, 'where's … dad?'

'Dunno dude, think we've worn out the oldies.' Dean said dismayed as he watched Sam start to stare at the ceiling again, 'hey, hey Sammy man, come on you're not tuning out on me again.'

'Why … us … Dean?' Sam whispered as he blinked dry and itchy eyes for once wanting the wetness of tears to give him some relief.

'I dunno dude I really don't.' Dean said with a minute hint of tremor in his voice, 'if I could Sam I'd go back and erase them from existence but I can't so all we can do is to try and go on somehow…'

'Why?'

'Why what Sammy?'

'Why go on?' Sam sighed heavily, 'just so tired Dean … so numb.'

Dean stared down at his seventeen year old brother and tried to find an answer, not a witty comeback or some sarcastic rhetoric or even a touch of black humour just an answer from deep inside but all he came up with a big black hole filled with nothingness, 'I have no idea Sam.'

S—D

Jerked from his uneasy sleep Dean stared blearily around in the shadowed room; a sound or something woke him of that he was more than sure and he felt his heartbeat start to race as he tried to reconcile his waking panic with the calm of the room. 'You can't hide from me son, I will find you.' The voice slithered around his head as his fear and anger merged igniting the very short fuse in his psyche.

'Where are you?' he yelled out as he lurched out of the bed, forgetting his own pain and injuries he raged around the room searching for the bodiless voice.

'You are mine and that will never change David, I own you body and soul.'

Dean raged against the furniture of the small bedroom, upending the drawers, ripping curtains but he still could not find him, it wherever the voice came from.

A soft mewling broke into the red heat surrounding him, panting heavily Dean staggered and felt himself deflate as he turned to face his terrified brother. 'Ahh Sammy I am so sorry,' he said as he limped towards the bed only to come to a complete stop when he saw Sam flinch and push himself against the mattress, 'no, no Sam please God dude don't be scared of me please man I couldn't … please Sammy …'

'De-Dean?' Sam's broken voice sounded so tight and tinged with sadness, and Dean's cracked soul finally shattered. His tears rolled down his face as a sob escaped from his throat, dropping painfully to his knees at the side of the bed, Dean rested his forehead against Sam's hip and sobbed into the blankets. So lost in his misery and pain Dean didn't even feel Sam's hand on the back of his head.

S—D

The sound of smashing wood echoed through the house, startling both of the elder hunters out of their exhausted stupors. Rushing up the stairs Jim followed Bobby as quickly as his stiffening muscles let him; both of them reluctant to enter the room, and what kind of turmoil waited for them in there.

'Dean! Sam!' Bobby roared as he pushed the door open and burst into the room, stopping so suddenly he caused Jim to crash into his back. 'Boys?'

'Dear Lord,' Jim breathed out in shock as he took in the devastation inside the room. 'Dean? Sam?'

'What the hell happened in here?' Bobby wanted to rant at the two brothers, to rip them new ones for the utter destruction of their bedroom but the anger faded as quickly as it rose inside him. All he could hear was rasping, hiccuped sobs and tortured breathing coming from the occupants of the room.

Dean was kneeling on the floor and huddled, hunched over the side of the bed, Sam lay so still on the mattress, his empty gaze fixed on the ceiling his only sign of life was his fingers moving seemingly of their own volition carding through Dean's hair.

'What the hell do we do now?' Bobby asked as he turned to his old friend, 'how the hell do we fix this?'

S—D

The interior of the bar was so stereotypical John had to bark out a harsh laugh as he dragged himself through the door and into the dark interior. Black furniture with ruby red velvet coverings and drapery, smoke drifted lazily above the patrons scattered along the bar and squeezed into booths. A once pretty thirty-something woman gyrated around a pole and along to a generic piece of music on a small catwalk style stage in the centre of the room, and no one paid any attention to anyone else.

'Whiskey and keep it coming,' John drawled as he dropped onto a stool at the far end of the bar where he could keep a surreptitious watch on everyone and everything but could remain detached and unaffected by anyone else. He scrawled more notes into his journal and then went over the details of his new case. The faces of his sons flashed bright in his thoughts and for one nano-second a glimmer of remorse accompanied the images until he stamped down on it until they were hidden in the shadows of his mind. There as a constant reminder of his failure as a father but also as a constant reminder of the reason why he hunted. They were safer and happier without him and that sat with him just fine for now.

'Winchester?' a deep southern-accented voice broke into his thoughts, 'so what's the urgency and where are the boys?'

John blinked a few times until he could focus on the blurred form as the speaker took a seat next to him, 'took yer sweet time getting' here Elkins.'

'Stop yer bitchin' and get me a drink man'll die of thirst waiting for ya.' Daniel Elkins looked down at his younger friend and co-hunter, 'so where are Dean and Sam? You got them squirreled away somewhere again? If I didn't know better I'd start thinking that you wanna keep em away from me.'

'Nah they got banged up a little so they're resting at Singer's place.'

'Bobby Singer? That rusty ol' coot still kicking? Thought he'd have bought it years ago.'

'Don't let him say that, or you'll get yer ass filled with buckshot,' John said dryly as he swallowed his whiskey shot and ordered two more, 'the boys are fine, everyone's fine and I got a lead on the demon.'

'I hunt vamps John … gave up on that bastard years ago.'

'Yeah I know but I need yer help … the colt Daniel, I know you know about it some say that you own it.'

'Some do huh? Well guess it's gotta be right after all some are like they … some know or they know … aint nothing to do with the truth though.'

'Listen Daniel I wouldna asked ya into this hunt if it weren't important … might even find some vamps for ya to slice and dice along the way.'

'So where we going?' Daniel swallowed his whiskey and gave John a long stare, 'you look like shit kiddo.'

'Thanks so do you… so you coming out of hiding or what?'

TBC

End note: Lyrics from Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd from the Another Brick in the Wall soundtrack.