Fly to the Angels
Chapt 6?
Summary: Dean has to face his own memories, a trip home, a estranged father, and his own mother.
Pairing: Sam/Dean (gen)
PG13- language warning.
A/N: WIP - Another take on 'Home', only this time Dean freaks out and can't bring himself to go into the house. Spoilers for Home, Faith, Benders.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and then guys are not mine. This is not for profit

I tried not to make it sob-worthy over-dramatic melodrama oscar worthy antics. Although it was a fine line...

Thanks for all the support and reviews! Now on with the Dean whuppage .')

Chapter 6

Sam moved quickly, stumbling and skidding, across the smooth polished floor, on his knees, to Dean's side.

"Dean?" he asked, gently lifting his head with one hand, fingers resting in his hair, away from the sharp and brittle wood, "Come on, talk to me man".

Dean remained silent though, completely oblivious to the carnage around his prone form, face pale and cold-white, a far cry from the obvious heat radiating off him, the back of his head damp with clammy sweat.

"What the hell happened?" John asked, slowly moving over to his sons as Sam gently swatted at Dean's face with light fingers.

"Back off!" Dean snapped, refusing to face, his back tense, "Just stay away from him".

"Sam!" John said, voice rising with an aggrieved glare to his eyes and fury to his up-turned lips, "Who do you think you're…"

"That's enough!" a voice shot out, loud and decisive, and both Sam and John turned towards Missouri, Sam still on his knees, clutching hold of Dean tightly, and John standing over them, an ironic mixture of worry and anger etched over his face, "You two are NOT getting into this NOW!".

She stalked out of the room and both Winchesters, son and father, visibly winced with the harsh sounds of doors and objects being slammed.

"Sammy?" John asked again, more softly.

Suddenly with an abrupt flair of an entrance, Missouri stalked back in, face hard and set. She pushed John aside, gingerly stepping over the snapped and broken wood. She glanced down at the youngest Winchester, seeing a worried and protective gleam to his eyes. Her own eyes instantly softened, as she too, lowered herself to the floor.

"Lets see to your brother" she said, gently pulling a small clear vial from her pocket, loosening the cap with her hands, "Smelling salts" she explained when she saw Sam's eyes tighten with suspicion.

Sam continued to knee by his brother's right side, one hand and arm cupping Dean's head, the other resting gently against his chest. He nodded his approval to Missouri.

"Dean, honey" Missouri, called gently, slowly waving the vial, wafting the strong, eye watering crystals, under his nose, back and fourth, "It's o.k.".

Dean moaned, rolling his head, across Sam's arm, left then right, pushing himself further into Sam's body, head falling into the gap between Sam's outreached arm and bent leg.

"Hey… shh, it's o.k." Sam murmured, pushing his arm around further, so that he was half hugging Dean to his body, arm hooked around his shoulder, "You with me bro?"

Dean didn't respond at first, except for a hand, trapped between his own body and Sam's knee, fingers dragging and trying to grasp hold of the stretched, tight, and worn jeans.

"Dean, man, talk to me".

Eyes fluttered open and blinked a few times, glancing sideways to see Missouri kneeing on his other side and … his father… looming above him. He shut his eyes tight again, groaning, and turned back into the crook of Sam's arm.

"Dean?" Sam asked.

"-M fine" Dean mumbled, against Sam's shirt, "Eyes hurt"

"Just take it easy" Sam whispered down, throwing one glance towards their father, "Wanna sit up?"

"If I barf, you loose" Dean agreed, reaching up with one hand and grabbing hold of Sam's shoulder. He let Sam pull him, so that they were sitting up, Sam on his knees, Dean on his backside, legs drawn up slightly, "So far, so good" he glanced back at Missouri and John, "Missouri, Dad".

"Son" John replied gruffly, "That was some kind of entrance you made there".

"… Yeah" Dean agreed, glancing at Missouri and the wooden mess surrounding them, "Sorry about that Missouri".

Missouri pushed herself up, breaking into laughter, half bent as she brushed her trousers down, "That old thing" she asked, "Don't be silly young man, it wouldn't have lasted the week anyway".

Feeling his father's scrutiny, Dean felt compelled to stand, and levering himself against Sam's shoulder, pushed himself up. He swayed slightly as he stood to his full height, vertigo playing with his mind, and Sam was instantly stood by his side, putting an arm out to brace him. Dean shrugged him off, searching his father's eyes out, as he stood his ground.

Dean was something else, Sam thought to himself, it didn't matter what happened or who did it, because out of the ruins and wreckage, bruised and broken, Dean had always stood in a realm where the strong and quick alone can survive.

"Why don't we go into the living room" Missouri said, taking hold of Dean's arm, "You should sit down… we can talk about why you're here".

Sam let Missouri pull Dean away, his numb fingers brushing slightly against Dean's oversized hoodie, leaving a dark and empty void between father and son.

"Sam!" Missouri stated firmly.

"Yeah" he said, breaking eye contact with John, as he moved away and followed Missouri and Dean into the room, John silently moving after them.

Missouri gently pushed Dean into the couch, his body slumping and sagging so much, that there was no room, on either side, for anyone else to sit. She moved out of the way, allowing Sam to perch himself on the arm of the chair, staying close to Dean.

Still standing and looking down, smiling sadly, Missouri said, "Boy, what have you done to yourself?"

"Mind telling me?" John asked, leaning in the doorway, arms resting tight across his chest, "Cuz I seem left out of the loop".

"Well maybe if you'd involved yourself a bit more, you'd know" Sam snapped.

"Sam" Dean warned, arm sneaking up tiredly, squeezing his shoulder, "Leave it alone".

"You haven't just arrived have you?" Sam said ignoring Dean's attempt and pacification

"Sam!" Dean hissed out this time.

"No" John answered Sam's question, his words were unflinching, but his eyes avoidant.

Dean instantly quietened, his hand dropping heavily to his side.

"When?" Sam asked.

"As soon as I got Dean's call" he admitted, "I wasn't too far away".

"Where were you?" Sam asked, continuing the interrogation.

"Not too far… a job a few miles east…"

"Not what I meant" Sam's voice hardened even more, reflecting the same harshness in his eyes, "Where were you when we needed you, when Dean needed you… Jeez Dad, he asked for your help!"

"I was here Sam" John replied firmly, "I kept an eye on everything".

Sam snorted and Dean grimaced, hand rubbing his head as the battle of the words continued. Dean didn't have the energy to wade in this time.

"But you didn't… otherwise you'd have known about" he paused, hand gesturing to Dean slumped in the couch like a used and abused rag-doll, "this".

"Which brings me back to my original question" John commanded.

"I've been possessed by Mom" Dean suddenly exclaimed and as if the sudden thought sounded insanely ludicrous, a bubble of hysterical laughter erupted from him.

"What!" John asked, straightening and standing to attention.

"It seems" Missouri spoke up, "Your son has an, mutual, unwanted guest".

Dean had, somehow, changed his position; He was now taking up more room of the couch, his body half slumped across it with one leg hanging off it lazily. A cool and wet flannel, that Missouri had provided, lay resting over his brow.

Sam had resigned to the fact that Dean was oblivious the how much room he was taking and continued to sit precariously, and close to Dean, on the edge.

"Possessions and attachments are two different things" Missouri explained, 2Dean isn't possessed by Mary… it's more like her energy, so to speak, has attached itself to Dean's".

"I don't understand" John said, "How?"

"It wasn't intentional" Missouri said, "From what Sam told me… it appears May used her own energy to destroy the dark spirit that was residing in your house. That probably would have destroyed Mary to, but it seems that Dean intercepted and" she paused, glancing at the two youngest, "Well it would seem Mary and Dean connected".

"Because of the white light?" Sam asked, "The energy?"

"Yes and no" she answered, "the light – her energy, would be a certain factor, but there do have to be a certain requirements for a possessed or an attachment".

"Like what?" Sam asked.

Missouri sighed, knowing inadvertently, that she was highlighting some of Dean's inadequate coping mechanisms and own insecurities.

"It could be anything" she paused, glancing at Dean and his limp body and closed eyes, knowing full well he was awake, "like anxiety, stress, isolation. They seem to occur when your defences are down. Vulnerability and withheld emotions play an important part and you can, unknowingly invite them, by thought alone, just by not wanting them to go".

"What about the dream?" Sam asked, "I mean if you can call it a dream. I mean how did we both…?"

"Sleep and dreams can be powerful tools" Missouri said, "Spirits have been known to communicate through dreams. Sometimes you realise, sometimes you don't. Dean may have simply reached out to you in fear, or your own precognition picked it up".

Sam nodded and he looked down, his hand hovering over Dean's frame, fingers flexing, before he let it fall back to his side.

"So what Mom said" Sam continued, his face full of pinched worry and concern, "It's true?"

"It makes sense" Missouri nodded gravely, "Attachments, just like possessions, drain energy, slowly destroying them, from the inside out. Eventually it will destroy the spirit too. Mary's kind of trapped there" she paused before going on, "Dreams become consuming, headaches debilitating, he may find himself falling into terrifying uncontrollable trances. He may also experience extreme volatile emotion and mood changes … both from the spirit itself and his own emotional and mental state battling it out" she paused again and smiled, "Mary's sure fighting tooth and nail in not letting that happen mind".

"And…?" Sam asked his final question.

"And" Missouri continued, knowing what it was, "when a spirit or anything attaches itself it leaves you open for more. Sometimes they just hang around watching and waiting," she paused, "and boy, he sure is popular tonight".

Dean opened one eye, glancing at Missouri, "Dean's place. Spiritual Bar of the Year".

"Mary's in him?" John spoke up, finding his voice.

Missouri suddenly tensed, looking uncomfortable, as John looked at her.

"Not really John" she said, "I said her energy was attached".

"Her soul" John confirmed.

Missouri, still tense, shrugged uncomfortably.

John moved into the room, eyes looking, upon his oldest son. Sensing his father, Dean put a hand to the flannel, keeping it in place, pushing himself up, so that he was sitting with elbows resting on his knees.

"Don't you dare" Missouri suddenly exclaimed, anger littering her voice, causing Sam to jump, as John came to a stop in front of Dean, bending down to his eye level.

"What's she saying Dean?" John asked.

They stared at each other as John bored into Dean's weak, watery and pained eyes.

"I don't… I don't know" he stuttered, hand still resting against his brow, "Nothing I guess.

He couldn't have sound convincing John just shook his head in response.

"C'mon Dean" John reprimanded, taking fold of dean's arm, "Does she know anything?"

"I don't know!" Dean shot back, rubbing at his head and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Dad" Sam quietly said, hand reaching Dean's taught shoulder, tightly reassuring him, "Leave it for now".

"Please Dean!" John exclaimed, exasperated, ignoring Sam's quiet plea and Dean's distress, "What does she have to say?" he paused, his own voice catching in his throat, "Has she got anything to say to me?"

Dean suddenly wrenched his arm free, voice rising, both hands grabbing at his head, "Shut up! All of You!"

John, shocked by Dean's reaction, stumbled backwards, legs hitting the small coffee table.

"Is she…" he gestured weakly to Dean, "Can you hear her now?"

"God! Shut up, shut up, shut up" Dean exclaimed, coming to an abrupt stop, biting his lip hard, "I'm sorry he whispered".

"Dean?" Sam asked quietly, hand still clutching Dean's shoulder.

"I'm fine" Dean said tightly, "Just had a moment there".

Sam kept his hand there though, unsure of the hard-set eyes and even tenser frame that had suddenly overtook Dean's body,

"You never once called" Dean spoke quietly, staring at their father, "Just coordinates here and there. I call you and you never fucking call back", although his voice was cool and calm, laced with seething dangerous anger, it still hitched towards the end.

"Dean!" Sam said, but Dean roughly pulled out of his grasp, pushing himself up with one arm, one hand still holding the flannel in place.

"I thought you were dead" he hissed out, the hand at his side balled tight, "Sam called you when I was sill, I called you about coming here… Didn't you think I might want to just hear your voice telling me it was going to be o.k." he was a roll now, his anger, hate and emotions bubbling away like a pan of over-boiled water, "Do you even give a damn about me?"

John didn't reply at first, stunned into silence as Sam stood, next to Dean, equally shocked by the out-of-character honest outburst.

"See" John said, finally speaking, "This is why I wanted him kept out of the house".

Now it was Dean's turn to be stunned and shocked as he realised that one of the reasons Missouri had so desperately wanted Dean to stay away was simply because their father had wanted it like that.

"Sometimes it's really hard" Dean found himself saying, quietly, the damp flannel, dropping heavily to the floor, his recent words to Layla Roarke ringing clearly through his head, hitting him hard in the chest, " to believe in something so much, to have it disappoint you like that".

"Disappoint you?" John asked incredulously, "How about the fact that you didn't even tell me about Sam's abilities. Instead I find out from Missouri" he paused, voice gruff, "It should have been you son".

Dean's eyes widened and his breath quickened, blinding and heated anger filled him to the core and he, without thinking, reached out and grabbed the nearest object. It turned out to be a pretty, small, ornate vase that he launched right out of his hand, sending it like a missile as it shot past John's head and shattered into small, sharp, jagged pieces. He couldn't bring himself to say anything; instead, he pushed past Sam and marched out of the room.

"Shit!" John exclaimed, hand wearily rubbing at his own face, "Dean I didn't mean…" he started to follow through the open doorway.

"Leave him" Sam shot, "I'll go".

He walked from the room and caught Dean striding down the hallway towards the bathroom.

"Dean" he called, as he broke out in to a run, but the bathroom door was slammed tight with an audible click, by the time he'd even got there.