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.

Every couple of minutes, Bobby would run the hot water just long enough to warm the tub another few degrees. He couldn't risk sending Dean's body into shock with an abrupt temperature change.

When the last heating attempt forced a whimper out of the boy, Bobby excused himself to go retrieve the thermometer and some glue to put his heart back together again. He loved both of those boys like they were his own, and after everything the poor kid had been through over the past three hours or so, the last thing he wanted to do was cause him more pain. He could only imagine what this was doing to John.

Bobby handed the thermometer over to Dean's rightful father and forced a half smile, knowing it wasn't much for comfort but feeling the need to do something. John took the instrument and returned the smile as best he could with a nod of his head.

John checked to see if Dean was still awake first so he didn't startle him. His eldest was staring determinedly at the far wall, biting his bottom lip to keep any other pathetic whimpers from bursting out of himself.

Sam occasionally squeezed his brother's hand gently, letting him know he was still there, and each time, Dean did his best to return the favor. He couldn't manage much in his weakened state, but it was enough.

"Just gonna take your temp again, bud," John warned Dean before easing the instrument into his son's ear once again.

BEEP!

Thank god…

"Uh… Dad?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"The water…"

"What about…? Damn it."

The clear water was slowly turning to a light shade of red and darkening by the second. Dean's body temperature was warm enough now for his blood to start circulating faster, which wasn't exactly a positive thing with the gash in his side. All Dean's struggling and shaking had reopened the wound as well.

"Well, Dean, looks like you've lucked out. Bath time's over, kiddo. I can't bandage that underwater. Sam, can you go reheat the water on the stove for me? Your brother's gonna need it."

"Yes, sir." Sam knew that was actually code for go do something else so we can get him out of the tub without embarrassing him in front of his little brother…

He squeezed Dean's hand one last time, comforted by the fact that Dean's responses were getting stronger each time. "See you out there, man." He turned and quietly left the room.

"Is it okay if Bobby stays to help, sport?" John questioned, trying to cater to Dean's needs as much as possible. Better late than never.

Dean nodded, knowing his father would need the assistance. He wished to hell he was strong enough to do it himself and spare everyone the awkward moments, but he didn't have much choice in the matter.

Bobby patted Dean gently on the shoulder, knowing the boy trusted him completely and loving the kid for it. "I'm gonna go grab his sweats from the bedroom. Be right back, John." He slipped out of the room as well, giving the other two some father/son time to prepare.

"How're you doin', Dean?" John asked the second they were alone, hoping to get an honest response out of his son.

"B-been b-better…" Dean forced a half-smile.

"We'll get you there, son. Just hang on, alright?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Dean, I've gotta ask you somethin'. Do you remember what happened after she pulled you under water?"

Dean swallowed hard again as scattered images raced through his mind. He shook his head. "N-not r-really, s-sorry."

"That's okay, pal. We'll talk about it later when you're feelin' a bit better."

Dean's eyes dropped to the tinted water. He didn't want to talk about it at all, but he knew he'd have to if he was going to keep his family safe. The longer he could put it off though, the better.

Bobby returned, and with John's help, the two men eased Dean out of the water, laid him carefully down on a towel they had spread out on the floor, patted him dry, and swapped out the soaked boxers for the warm sweatpants but he let them rest just shy of his waist.

John used this opportunity to scan his son's body for any additional injuries he may have previously overlooked. Thankfully, all he found were a few deep bruises, four crescent shaped cuts on his left hip and shoulder where Sarina's nails had pierced his skin, and the gash on his side made by John's bullet. But this list didn't include the mental scares the boy was sure to have after all this.

John carefully ran his thumb over the marks that he left exposed on Dean's hip. They were deep enough to leave painful red marks, but otherwise didn't do much damage. "Do these hurt, Dean?"

Dean lifted his head enough to see what his father was referring to, then let it drop back to the hard floor as the blush crept up his cheeks again. How had he let this happen? How did he fall so easily for her trap? How had he let her use him like that in front of his family? He shook his head no in response, feeling miserable.

"And your shoulder?"

"'s fine."

"I'm gonna swab the marks with a little holy water, just to be safe." John took a small vial out of the first aid kit and poured some of the fluid onto a cotton ball. He gently patted it over each mark, grateful that the wounds did not sizzle and steam as he did so.

When he finished with Dean's hip, he secured the sweatpants up where they belonged before moving on to the back of the boy's shoulder.

These marks were just as deep as the ones on his hip, but thankfully, no deeper.

While John was patching Dean up, Bobby drained and rinsed the tub, making sure there wasn't a red water ring around the sides. It was bad enough they were about to get the white towels all bloody.

Knowing they needed access to Dean's side in order to check the graze, John left the boy's sweatshirt off and settled for wrapping a towel around his son's torso like a blanket as he sat him up against the wall. "We'll make this quick, promise. Then you can get all bundled up again."

John grabbed the rest of the first aid kit off the sink's counter and knelt by Dean's side. "Let's have a look at that gash."

He eased Dean's right elbow away from his body and prodded the wound to make sure there was no debris stuck in it and that the ribs underneath it weren't shattered. Normally, he could just ask Dean if they felt broken because he certainly has had a lot of experience with broken bones over the years, but the boy probably wouldn't be coherent enough to make that judgment for a while yet due to the hypothermia.

Dean gasped at the pressure, then quickly bit his bottom lip again. He didn't want to make this any harder on his father than it already was.

John knew the mild sedative was already wearing off. It wasn't meant for long term, just to help control Dean's panic a bit. He shot a look over at Bobby who quickly moved in behind Dean, sitting on the floor and resting the boy against his chest. That way, he could restrain him if necessary.

"Thankfully, it hasn't gotten infected yet, but I want to clean it out just to be safe. Then we'll see if it needs a few stitches or just some butterfly bandages, okay?"

Another weak nod. Dean wasn't really listening. He knew the drill, and he knew it was going to hurt. He didn't really care about the details.

John poured some alcohol onto a cotton swab and shot Bobby another look who secured his arms around the boy to prevent too much movement. John started by cleaning the surrounding area, sopping up the blood that was trickling a bit heavier down Dean's side now that he was starting to thaw.

Then he poured alcohol onto a fabric swatch that wouldn't leave pieces of cotton in the wound and with a mumbled apology to his son, he pressed the fabric into the wound as deeply as he could go.

Dean's back arched and his head flew back in agony as Bobby tried his damned best to restrain him. "Ah! Sh-shit!"

"Okay, okay… Almost done, kiddo… Hang in there…" John kept talking, hoping to give Dean something else to focus on as he moved the fabric around, taking care to swab any place that could be ideal for growing an infection. He was also able to gauge the depth of the wound, coming to the unfortunate conclusion that a few stitches would be necessary after all.

Finally, he removed the fabric, held a towel against Dean's side just under the wound, and poured the bottle of alcohol straight over the gash. Dean bit through his lip as the chemical frothed and felt like acid searing into his skin.

"God, I'm so sorry, Dean," John murmured, patting the wound dry again and checking to see if the bleeding had slowed at all. The apology was meant for more than the pain he was inflicting now though. It was for the fact that none of this would have happened if it weren't for him being so thick-headed. It was for the fact that it was John's bullet that pierced his son's side to begin with. And everyone in the room knew it.

"Think you can handle about six stitches right now, bud? We could probably wait a bit if you need to…"

"N-now…" Dean panted out, then skated his tongue across his throbbing bottom lip.

Bobby watched as John carefully disinfected, then threaded a curved needle. John slid to his boy's side, ready to begin, but then paused and looked up at his friend.

"Bobby, that's not really gonna work, man…"

Bobby looked up at John confused for a second before he realized what the man was talking about. He had taken to gently rocking Dean in his arms while waiting for John to get prepared. But obviously, the swaying would make stitching rather complicated.

"Oh, right." He brought them both to a standstill and settled for putting his head against Dean's instead. "You speak up if you need a break, ya hear?" he demanded next to Dean's ear.

He felt the boy nod, but knew it was a lie that both of them needed to accept. Sometimes, Dean searched out the pain to cleanse his soul or take punishment he thought he deserved. No, the boy wouldn't tell John to stop. He needed the release.

This sure as hell wasn't going to be easy with Dean still shaking as hard as he was. Just six stitches… Then it'd all be over.

Only then did John realize it wasn't just Dean shaking now. His own wet clothes were plastered to him, and while he wasn't fully submerged and he didn't spend as much time in the water as Dean had, his body was finally telling him enough was enough.

He brought his hands close to Dean's side, but he was having trouble gripping the needle and keeping it steady. Dean wasn't going to say anything to protect himself, but he squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the pain of having a needle shakily woven through his skin. Bobby came to the rescue.

"John, you're just as frozen as he is at this point. Why don't you go get changed and I'll finish this up? Otherwise we'll have to start drawin' a bath for you and no one wants to see that…"

"Thanks for your support, Bobby," John growled, but he knew his friend was right.

"Fine, but if either of you need me, I'll be right in the other room."

"We'll manage just fine. 'Sides, the poor kid is probably sick of lookin' at your ugly mug constantly hoverin'."

John snorted, shaking his head. Then he ruffled Dean's hair and made his way back into the bedroom to search through his own duffle.

Bobby didn't move immediately, content to just rest for a second with Dean safely in his arms. "How're you holdin' up, kid?"

"'m g-good…"

"Yeah, I'll bet. And by good, you mean achin' all over, frozen to the bone, mortified by all the attention, and completely exhausted, right?"

For the first time that night, Dean actually managed a soft chuckle.

"Thought so. What do ya say we get this over with so you can get tucked in and pass the hell out?"

"K-kay."

"I don't suppose you can stop the shakin' long enough for me to patch you up?"

Dean just shot him a weary look over his shoulder.

Bobby sighed. "Yeah, didn't think so. Alright, I suppose I've handled worse and in worse conditions, but my body ain't that flexible, kid. Gotta lay you down on the floor again or this ain't gonna work."

It was killing Dean that he had so many retorts for that statement but it would take too much effort to spit them out. He settled for another nod and had enough control over his muscles now to help the older man ease him back to the floor. Bobby winked comfortingly at the boy as he tried his best not to loom and appear intimidating.

Dean was able to relax minutely. For some reason, things never seemed as bad as they were with Bobby around.

TBC

Shout out to deangirl1 who reminded me that the Rusalka had also dug her claws into Dean's shoulders when she was using him as a shield. I would have forgotten to address that fact in this chapter if she hadn't brought it to my attention, so thank you! Reviews are always welcomed and appreciated!