Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way!

Summary: Dean tries to break the news to his father that Sammy isn't interested in carrying on the family business. John handles it like an ex-Marine would, and Dean storms off to the shores to cool down after the heated debate. There, he is entranced by a water succubus. Will his father realize what happened before it's too late?

Tag to "After School Special." Dean is 17 and Sam is 13.

John sat Dean up far enough to drape one of the thick blankets around his shoulders and then wrapped an arm around his back, preparing to lift him.

"…can walk…" Dean mumbled, trying to push his father away.

Poor decision making and unawareness of his own physical state were two other signs of hypothermia and John didn't need any more evidence. His son was in serious trouble.

He slid his other arm underneath Dean's knees and with strength found only in a father's fierce determination to protect his son, he stood, cradling Dean against his chest.

Dean continued trying to break free so he could walk on his own.

John just tightened his grip. "I've got you, Dean. Calm down."

All three of them hustled back to the room, Bobby and Sam doing what they could to clear the path so John wasn't hindered in any way. He placed Dean on the bed farthest from the door and the drafty windows.

"Sam, warm up some water on the stove. Bobby, we need all the towels we've got and the thermometer out of the first aid kit."

Sam and Bobby immediately set to the tasks they were assigned as John tended to his eldest.

He quickly pulled the blanket from around Dean's shoulders and started tugging off his wet t-shirt. Dean whined, trying to keep his shirt on. "'s too cold…" he forced out through chattering teeth.

"I know, kiddo. That's why I need to get you out of these wet clothes. You want to get warm, don't you?"

Dean nodded, only half understanding his father's words as his eyelids started to droop again.

"Stay with me, Dean!" John demanded, giving his son's shoulders a rough shake.

Dean's eyes snapped back open in fear and he recoiled slightly with a soft gasp.

"I need you to stay awake, son. Can you do that for me?" John asked in a more soothing tone now that he was sure he had his boy's attention.

Dean nodded once again, more lucid this time around.

"Good." John finally managed to wrestle the drenched shirt from his son's frailly thin body.

Dean instinctively wrapped his arms around himself, desperate for warmth.

"Hang on, Tiger…" John pulled Dean's arms carefully away from his chest to make sure there was no physical trauma done by the Rusalka. He only released Dean's wrists when he was satisfied that his boy was still in one piece, aside from the abdominal bruising from the CPR and the tear in his right side from John's bullet. He would have to address that injury soon, but thankfully, the cold was preventing the wound from bleeding excessively. "Okay, go ahead."

Dean's arms immediately snapped back to where they had been and he started to slowly rock back and forth on the bed.

John grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around Dean's shoulders once again. He wanted to rub up and down his son's arms to help spread the warmth faster, but he knew if there was any frostbitten tissue, the rubbing could cause severe damage. He settled for using the blanket to pat Dean's blue-tinted skin dry before moving down to his jeans. His eyes flickered back up to his son's vacant ones, but he didn't have any other choice in the matter. He needed to get all of Dean's wet clothes off.

He gently gripped Dean's shoulders and eased him down to the mattress so his weight was more distributed, then he moved down to Dean's ankles and carefully began to pull the pant legs over his feet.

Dean freaked instantly, sitting bolt upright and grabbing clumsily at his jeans. "No! No, please… Won' let you…"

John felt like he was going to throw up. His boy sounded so broken and scared.

"It's okay, Dean. You're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you, but I have to get you warmed up, understand?"

"Don', please…" Dean continued to whimper, getting more and more frustrated that his fingers weren't responding like they were supposed to.

"Dean, stop." John moved back up the bed and carefully gathered his son's hands into his own, putting as little pressure as he could against the fragile digits. "Look at me, buddy."

Dean's eyes shot all around the room, looking at everything but seeing nothing.

John collected both of Dean's hands into one of his own and used his other to gently grip his son's chin, forcing eye contact.

"Dean? It's just me, okay? You need to calm down before you hurt yourself."

The boy was close to hyperventilating but his eyes finally met his father's.

"I d-didn' l-let her do it, d-dad," Dean felt the need to reveal. "D-didn' le' her…"

John wasn't sure what to make of his son's declaration, so he forced himself to smile comfortingly while inside he was boiling over with fury. "That's my boy. We'll talk about it later when you're feelin' better. Right now, I need you to lay back down though, okay?"

Dean nodded, phasing out again as his eyes started roaming aimlessly around the room for a second time.

"Okay." John released Dean's hands and eased his son back to the sheets before waited a brief moment to see if he would get back up. He was relieved to find that Dean stayed right where he was placed, obediently. "That's good, Dean. Don't move now, alright?"

Another nod was followed by a few hacking coughs and Dean's face screwed up in an obvious sign of pain.

"Easy, buddy…" John cooed, wincing at the sounds coming from Dean's abused lungs. He wrapped the blanket tighter around his son, giving him a bit more dignity and warmth before returning to the end of the bed.

After a short game of tug of war, he dropped Dean's soaked jeans and boxer shorts to the floor. Bobby chose that moment to return with the thermometer and a stack of towels.

"How's he doin', John?"

"He's hangin' in there. Can you find a pair of Dean's boxers in his duffle for me? Sweatpants and sweatshirt too for later?"

"You got it, John." Bobby deposited his first load of goods on the edge of the bed and moved over to Dean's bag where he started rifling around for dry clothes.

"Sam?!" John yelled to get his youngest son's attention. "How's that water comin'?!"

"Just about ready!" Sam called back, eager to return to his brother's side.

John draped a second blanket around Dean's body, then grabbed the thermometer. He eased it into his son's ear and waited for the beep. The sound startled Dean and he blinked, wide-eyed, at his father, looking confused.

John placed his hand against Dean's cheek in comfort as he read the numbers; 91.3. Shit…If his temperature dropped another degree or two, Dean would stop shaking. That would be a very bad sign.

He placed the thermometer by the side of the bed for easy retrieval, then turned to Bobby who wordlessly tossed him a pair of Dean's shorts. He eased them up the boy's numb legs and onto his hips, careful not to apply more pressure to his skin than was necessary, before wrapping the blanket around his son once again.

Sam strode as quickly as he could into the room, trying not to spill the pan of warmed water everywhere. He set it down on a folded towel before sitting next to his brother on the bed.

Bobby placed the sweats he found at the bottom of the bed for now and moved to the pan with a handful of facecloths. He submerged each cloth in the water before wringing them out and handing them to John one at a time.

John draped one over Dean's throat, then slid two others beneath the blankets; one across his chest, and the other over his lower abdomen, trying to distribute the heat. Dean shifted in protest as the warm water felt like it was burning his frozen skin. His head tossed from side to side on the pillow in discomfort.

"…b-burns…"

"Leave them where they are, Dean. They'll help, I promise."

Either Dean didn't hear his father's words, or he chose to ignore them. Panting heavily with the effort, he continued to squirm until the cloths were laying on the bed instead of burning into his flesh. John sighed in annoyance, trying to control his emotions so he didn't repeat the same mistakes that started this whole mess.

"Dean, stop squirming. Just relax, buddy."

Dean froze immediately, the Rusalka's words coming back to him. "Stop squirming, Dean. Just relax…"

Sam noticed the change in his brother's body language. "Dean? What's wrong?" He reached out and placed a gentle hand over his brother's arm.

Dean flung himself sideways, breaking the contact with Sam, and began retching over the side of the bed. He managed to expel a bit more water before having to deal with painful dry heaves.

"Dean!" Sam and John both yelled in surprise as Bobby grabbed the nearest trashcan and held it beneath Dean's head.

Sam tried to place his hand back on his brother's arm for support but Dean gasped in fear and pain at the slight pressure. Sam retracted his hand as though he had been burned. "Dean?" His voice quavered as he forced the word past his lips.

John, realizing what might have set his eldest off, hung his head sadly and closed his eyes, at a complete loss as to how to help his son get through this. One problem at a time…

Once Dean gained control of his stomach again, he slumped weakly against the mattress, too close to the edge for anyone's comfort.

John tucked the blankets back around his son and eased him closer to the center of the bed. He ignored Dean's flinch under his touch.

"Deep breaths, kiddo. You'll be okay."

John watched carefully as Dean slowly started to relax once again. He waited a beat, then checked Dean's temperature again. 91.1. The warm towels and blankets weren't enough. Worse than that, Dean wasn't shivering as hard as he was before. Though it was a blessing in disguise for the poor boy's screaming muscles, it was a big red flag for John.

He knew what needed to be done, but he also knew Dean wasn't going to appreciate it very much. Sometimes being a dad flat out sucked.

"Bobby…"

"Yeah, John. I know. I'm on it." Bobby made his way into the bathroom and turned on the shower, making sure the temperature was luke-warm as he plugged the tub and let it fill up.

"Dad?" Sam prodded, knowing what was coming and knowing his brother wasn't going to like it.

"We don't have a choice, Sammy."

TBC

Hey everyone! Iuliana pointed out to me that I haven't explained what the Rusalka does to her victims. Thanks for that, and here is a brief description of the lore for all of you!

"The Rusalka is a female demon or water succubus which lures men into the water to seduce them and have sexual intercourse with them, drawing energy from the men to sustain themselves, often until the point of exhaustion or death."

I promise I will reveal if she succeeded in Dean's case, whether she's dead or not, and though the family is playing nice right now while Dean is still in danger, none of them have forgotten what John did to start this whole mess! Plenty of angst, drama, and healing to go! Thanks for sticking with me, and the reviews are definitely helping!! Hint, hint… haha