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.

Leaning a good portion of his weight on his little brother, Dean made it back into the bedroom where John was waiting anxiously.

"You good, Dean?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'm fine. Sorry I took so long. Not used to feelin' so weak."

Sam shot Dean a threatening glare at his choice of words, having caught the double meaning behind them. Dean ignored him, choosing to keep his attention focused on his father instead.

John's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. "I expected as much. Ready for some chow?"

Dean's stomach flipped at the thought. He really just wanted to be left alone right now.

"Actually… I'm more exhausted then hungry. I think I'll try gettin' some more shuteye first if that's okay."

John frowned. "You really should eat, Dean."

"I know, Dad, and I will. Just… Not right now."

John looked to Sam quickly, seeing if there was another side to the story he should know about, but Sam was careful not to give anything away that would betray his brother's trust. He did promise after all.

John nodded, caving to his son's wishes against his better judgment. "Alright, then. Why don't you take my bed till we get yours changed up. I'll wake you in a few hours and we'll get some food into ya. No more excuses at that point, got it?"

"Yes, sir."

The anxious father kept a close eye on his boys in case they needed his help as Sam maneuvered Dean into John's bed, but they managed just fine on their own. He smiled inwardly. How did they grow up so fast?

The proud feeling quickly faded to a deep sadness. Won't be long till they won't need me around anymore. Then I'll hit the road and hopefully they'll be safer without me. God, please don't let them hate me for it…

Dean curled up on his left side, keeping his back to the wall. He took the bed's second pillow and hugged it to his chest, building a safety cocoon around himself under the guise of simply trying to get comfortable. Sammy wasn't fooled.

The youngest Winchester made his way to Dean's bed and retrieved his brother's favorite knife. "Here, Dean."

Dean glanced up and smiled in relief. He slid the knife under his dad's pillow and wrapped his hand around the hilt for security. "Thanks, Sammy."

Sam smiled. "Get some rest, man."

Dean nodded, but had absolutely no intentions of falling asleep. Unfortunately, his exhausted and abused body had other plans, but a restful sleep just wasn't in the poor kid's cards.

It didn't take long for Dean to start tossing and turning, mumbling threats under his breath one second and pleading the next. He had death grips on both his knife and his pillow, but they were useless weapons against nightmares.

He felt trapped, unable to move. He fought against the restraining sheets like he had fought against Bobby and his father on the beach. He could see Sarina hovering over him, smirking smugly. She had him right where she wanted him, and there was no escape. He just wasn't strong enough.

"Dean?"

A soothing voice floated through his head, causing a frown of confusion to cross his tormented face. The image before him was flickering as his mind tried to process the new tone.

"You're okay, Dean. Time to wake up now."

It was no longer Sarina standing over him now, but someone much bigger, more muscular, and more foreboding.

A strong hand encircled his left wrist, pinning it to the sand beneath his head. Horrible deja vu twisted the boy's gut.

Dean sat bolt upright with a strangled cry of fear and found himself tightly engulfed by one of the same muscular arms and held steady against the same broad chest that had been in his nightmare. He was so scared he couldn't breathe.

"No! Lemme go!"

He tried to pull back from the restrictive grip, but the arm only tightened around him more, effectively preventing any more struggling.

"Easy, kiddo! It's okay! It's just me. Take it easy…"

"D-dad?"

"Yeah, bud. That was quite the dream you were havin' there. You alright?"

Dean's heart was still thudding painfully hard in his chest and he was covered in sweat. His drowsy mind was still trying to make sense of everything. He thought he had been back at the beach… But he's in a bed? Where was everyone else? Was he safe now? Were the otherssafe?

"Where? What…? Dad?"

John loosened his grip and pulled back just enough to look into his son's terrified and confused eyes. He frowned in concern. "Take a second and think it through, son. It'll come back to ya."

Instead of processing, Dean looked down at his trapped wrist and practically whimpered. John still had his arm pinned to the mattress.

"Please, don't…" the boy whispered shakily.

John followed Dean's gaze and felt instantly sick when he realized what was upsetting him. "You gotta let go of the knife first, Dean."

It took a few more seconds for the boy to relent, but eventually John felt his son's arm relax and he knew he had released the blade. He slowly released his own grasp and Dean quickly pulled his arms in, crossing them over his chest. He was looking anywhere but at his father, feeling ashamed for his moment of panic.

John felt his fatherly instincts kick in and for once, he pushed his Marine personality to the back burner. "Dean? Hey, son… You with me?"

Dean nodded, but his current staring contest with the foot of the bed said otherwise.

"Look at me, kiddo."

Unable to obey that order and keep his sanity, Dean's only other option was to start talking. The words blurted out of him faster than he could form coherent sentences.

"I'm fine, Dad. Just a dream. Don't even remember it. Not important. Did I wake you? Where'd Sammy and Bobby go? They alright?"

"Dean, stop. You're babblin', dude. I sent Sammy and Bobby next door to get some much needed sleep. Everyone's fine… Except you."

That grabbed Dean's attention and he made eye contact for the first time, though it was short lived. He was never good at lying to his father's face. He addressed the sheets pooled in his lap instead. "What are you talkin' about? I just said I'm good, Dad. Really. I was just caught off gua…"

"You're not fine, buddy. Not by a long shot."

Dean was starting to feel cornered, not to mention betrayed by his little brother. "Why do you say that? Wait, did Sammy say somethin' to you?"

John raised an eyebrow, wonder what it was his boys were trying to hide from him. "About what?"

Dean immediately went on the defensive. "Nothin'. Never mind. Forget I said anythin'."

The weary father sighed. He was afraid this was going to happen. With all the walls his eldest had built over the years, he should have gone into construction. "Okay, clearly you're not in a talkin' mood, and that's fine. So just listen, alright?"

He received a tentative nod in return, then continued.

"What you've been through over the past couple of days would be enough to destroy any average person."

Dean started pulling back again, unwilling to rehash the events with his father.

"Dad, I really don't want to be discussin' this right now…"

"But you're not an average person, ya hear me? You're the strongest kid I know, Dean. And I don't care what it takes or how long it takes, but we're gonna get you through this, understand?"

"Seriously, I'm already past all…"

"Dean, havin' horrific nightmares, scrapin' your skin raw, and I'm willin' to bet you had a bit of a breakdown in the shower earlier judgin' by how long you boys were in there…"

He waited for Dean to deny it, but all the boy could manage was a deep red blush. Busted.

John's gaze shifted to Dean's arms where the raw skin stood out in stark contrast to his pale body. "I could tell somethin' went wrong when you came back out, but I didn't want to push it. I was hopin' lettin' you get some more sleep would help, but that obviously backfired a bit."

"I, umm… God, I don't know what happened in there. It was just, everything sort of came down on me at once and…"

John shook his head. "You don't have to explain, kiddo. I get it. This ain't an easy gig by any stretch of the imagination. No one expects you to just bounce back after what you went through."

"I… I'm sorry, Dad," Dean stated softly, fresh tears coursing down his cheeks at the feeble admission.

"For what, dude?" John was completely nonplused.

"For failin' so miserably. I shouldn't have even been down by the water, let alone have walked right up to her so she could lay her mojo on me. I could have gotten all of you killed."

John felt tears stinging the backs of his own eyes now. Did Dean really feel he was to blame for all this? "No, buddy. None of this was your fault, got it? You want to blame someone, blame me. If I hadn't…" struck you… "let my anger get the best of me, you and I would have still been talkin' about Sammy's future. You never would have had a reason to leave the motel room if I had just listened. I'm the one that dropped the ball on this one, and I am so damn sorry, kiddo."

He reached out and cupped Dean's left cheek, ignoring his initial flinch, and gently rubbed his thumb over the deep bruise he had given his boy not so long ago. He'd do anything to take that back; to take all of it back and just start over again.

Dean could see the regret in his father's eyes. "It's okay, Dad."

Absolution where he didn't deserve it. How on Earth did he end up with a golden-hearted kid like Dean? Must get that from Mary.

John moved his hand further back and clasped the back of Dean's neck, drawing him carefully against his chest once more. The boy tensed at first, not welcoming the rare show of affection, but then he broke down and made use of the shoulder to cry on.

He fisted his hands in the back of his father's shirt, desperately clinging to his source of stability- his hero.

"I don't know how to make it stop, Dad. I can't get her outta my head! Everythin' I do, everywhere I turn, she's always in the back of my head and… and…"

"Shh…" John gently rubbed his other hand up and down Dean's back, setting a comforting rhythm that the boy eventually used to control his breathing. "I've got you, Dean. You're gonna make it through this, I promise. And we'll all be there for you every step of the way. She's not gonna win."

He rocked Dean back and forth, easily falling into the old habits of how he used to calm his boys down after a bad dream, especially Dean. He had terrible night terrors for months after Mary's brutal murder.

Looking back, John knew Dean pulled himself out of that dark time for one reason and one reason only; his little brother. As emotionally scarred as the boy was after losing his mother, he had to be the big protector for Sammy. That's the way it always was, and this time wasn't going to be any different.

Dean would struggle with the fear, pain, flashbacks, and nightmares for a while until he decided enough was enough and forced himself to move past it. The boy was strong enough to take control of his emotions when necessary, and though no one would ever forget what he went through with the Rusalka, he would push the memory to the back of his mind, cement it behind one of those famous Dean Winchester walls, and he would move on as though it had never happened.

Sometimes, that was the only way to make it through.

TBC

Please review! One final chapter/epilogue to sum everything up and this fic will have reached its end. Thank you all for your generous reviews!!