Disclaimer: If loving the guys could be considered owning them…yes! I own them. But sadly, it doesn't work that way.
Beta cum co-author: bia1007

a/n: Geez! I'm really sorry this chapter took like years (figuratively) to be updated. My life was kind of getting on to me. So here to redeem myself, I gave my heart out to write this chapter. Really hope it worked and that you guys would like it. Enjoy! And again, sorry.

Chapter 15

"Jack!!!"

Jack jolted up from the bed – his heart racing frantically. Clutching his blanket in a tight grip, his knuckles were white. His eyes were fixed on the door, waiting so fretfully his blood ran cold in his veins. There were loud and angry stomps on the stairs, heading towards his room. Sweat glistened on Jack's face despite the numbing coldness ravaging his body.

The doorknob turned and Jack watched with fret. When the door cracked open, all the senses in his body screamed for him to start running. But his body was nothing but numb. Instead of running away, he waited with bated breath.

"You lazy ass!" His father was already at the door. His bloodshot eyes stared at him so fiercely and his breathing was loud – so loud Jack couldn't hear any other sound but the heavy huff of his old man's breath.

"Dad…" Jack whimpered, almost inaudible. There was no use to plead for mercy or to cry for help. There was no one to help him – the one person who was able to always refused to help.

The man he had called father since forever got to his bed in two long strides and grabbed him by his collar, choking him with his stinky breath. Jack winced, but that was about all he did. He would have never fought back, never.

"I told you to open the door for me, you bastard!" His father shouted at his ear, blinding him with the pain throbbing at the back of his head.

Jack fell silent. There was no use telling his father he had been sick with the flu and was bedridden. He was too sick, even walking was impossible, much less going down the stairs to open the door for his father.

"I…I'm…I'm sorry sir," an apology was all Jack could manage to redeem himself.

"Sorry my ass!" And his father clocked him square on the face, sending him to the floor. That was not all. Once he was down, his father kicked him in the gut a couple of times. When he curled up the beating continued abusing the other part of his body. All the time the beating took place, Jack didn't even whine or cry.

He'd been through this hell as long as he could remember. He was so used to the beating he couldn't feel any more pain. All he wished now that the beating would once end his life so he didn't have to go through the suffering for the rest of his life. It was never the beating that hurt him so damn much. It was the ignorance that tortured him the most.

Tonight, Jack wished he'd die.

"I should have killed you sooner," and Jack's wish was about to come true when his father lifted the bedside lamp, ready to smash his head with it.

He didn't realize doing it, but Jack's lips curled lightly – savoring the last moments of his life. There was nothing in life he would regret leaving behind except for one thing – his big brother John. Though dying would end his suffering, it tortured him more to realize that he was going to leave John.

But then again, John had left him. His big brother had left him a couple of months ago – promising that he would come back for him. Jack waited and kept on waiting, but John never came back. Maybe he was what his father claimed him to be, good-for-nothing. He was not even worth to have a brother.

Still, John was the only person on earth that ever cared about him – who taught him to love and to be loved. He was the only one whose presence had made Jack feel human – not an animal which life was worth only to serve as someone's punching bag. John was his everything, his meaning of life. So yeah, Jack was hoping he could have met John for one last time.

Jack silently prayed that John was here and he would be able to say his last goodbye.

And again, his prayers came true when suddenly the bedside lamp came down crushing on the floor right in front of him. His father had missed. Jack found out sooner than he had expected that his father hadn't missed when the hefty man stumbled to the floor so hard he felt the wooden planks beneath him rumble.

Jack's eyes widened and he was dumbfounded to see his father – lying there on the floor, unmoving. A trickle of blood ran along his forehead, pooling fast on the floor beneath his cheek. He shuddered and without thinking started crawling to one corner of the room. There he curled up and began to weep silently.

For the first time in 13 years, he could feel all the pain and the suffering came rushing into his body. For the first time after all those years, he was free to feel the pain and the agony and for the first time, he could cry. So when a hand gripped his shoulder, Jack screamed at the top of his lungs, almost throwing up in the process.

"Hey! Hey! It's me kiddo!" the ever comforting voice! Oh! It was the voice he'd been craving to hear since the last two months. "I'm here…you're okay now, I'm here."

Cool hands carefully eased him up and pulled him into a tight hug. "God Jackie! I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."

Oh God! The touch felt so good. Jack relinquished the warmth of the hug and snuggled closer. "John…John…" he called with tremors shaking his whole body.

"Yes little brother, I'm here…I'm sorry, should've come earlier," John gently pushed his little brother away from him and studied his face. Jack's face was marred with bruises and cuts – totally mashed with new injuries on top of the old ones that hadn't fully healed. Brushing away the thin line of blood trickling from Jack's mouth, John felt tears pooling in his eyes. "Oh God! Jackie, I'm sorry." John pulled Jack back into his arms – stroking his little brother's back soothingly as tears started rolling down his cheek.

As he rocked Jack back and forth, John looked at his step-father – now out to the world – with satisfaction. He should have done what he did sooner. Then Jackie would have been spared from all the tortures and the abuse. John didn't know what had driven him into knocking daylight out of his step-father. All he remembered was coming back to get Jack – to take him away from the house and live with him – saw Jack's old man trying to kill his brother, and the next thing he knew he had bashed the man's head with a paper weight he didn't remember grabbing from Jack's study.

However, it wouldn't take long for the brute man to regain consciousness.

John cradled Jack and lifted him into his arms. For a thirteen-year-old, Jack was light and small. He never had the chance to grow up like other kids anyway having an abusive father and an uncaring mother who never bothered to step in and stop the abuse. Cuddling the boy protectively in his embrace, John said "Let's go kiddo…we leave now."

"Where?" Jack hugged John's neck, feeling safe and secured – just like he'd always been when he was with John.

"I'm going to take care of you now Jackie," John promised. This was one thing he'd been promising the kid since forever but had not been able to keep until now. God knew how much he longed to make it a reality. "No one's going to hurt you anymore." It felt so good that this time he would be able to protect Jackie for good.

Jack nodded, mumbling "I believe you John," and huddled closer to John – his big brother, his protector and his entire world.

The big brother didn't waste more time. He secured his grip on Jack and headed for the door before he halted abruptly, seeing their mother standing by the door – her face etched with uncertainty.

"Ma…" he called out hesitantly.

"John." She called and reached out to touch them.

John flinched away from her hand and pulled Jack closer towards him.

She backed away and clutched her night gown, right where her heart was beating. Tears streamed down her face as she saw the look in her son's eyes. She had failed as their mother, but she was not going to fail now. For once, she wanted to be their mother, their protector.

"Go son…take your brother and don't ever return, go." She flicked her hand over John's shoulder, ushering him towards the stairs.

"Come with us ma," Jack stuttered as a shiver ran its course through his body, rocking him so furiously. He reached towards his mother, groaning with pain as the gesture took a toll on his feeble body. Oblivion was fast overtaking him, threatening to sink him deeper into the freaky dark world.

She grabbed his hand and stroked it gently, lovingly but with the fear of hurting him – an affectionate gesture she had denied her sons from since she was married to his current husband. She kissed her baby's hand and said "I'm sorry baby…I'm sorry I didn't do anything."

"It's okay ma…you couldn't have done anything." Jack could never hate her. She gave him life after all – though it was hellish. Despite all the suffering he was still alive and breathing, for that he couldn't hate her.

"Ma…come with us," John finally found the courage to speak.

It had been long since he last talked to her. Her ignorance and her callousness towards their sufferings developed a sheer anger in him, causing him to estrange her from his life. But seeing the love and the empathy in her eyes now, he felt all the longing and his unquenched thirst for his mother's love came rushing into him like a wave.

"No son…this is my way of redeeming myself," she wiped away her tears, kissed her youngest on his forehead and looked up to his eldest. "John, promise me you're going to take a good care of your brother."

"You know I'll always do ma."

"I know and I know you'll do better than me," she caressed her teenaged son's face and smiled "You are so like your father John…if only he was alive, things would have been different."

John looked down to his baby brother – limp in his arms – and shook his head. If his father was still alive, he wouldn't have Jack as his brother. Things would have been really different then and he was sure he wouldn't like it. Life without Jack was a life he couldn't live in, no.

Suddenly they heard a loud grunt from Jack's room and their hearts skipped a beat. It was Jack's father, he was coming around fast.

"Go!" Their mother shoved them towards the stairs. Giving them one last hug, she said "Take care my babies," as tears rolled down her beautiful face. And that was the last image of her John and Jack would hold forever in their lives. Deep inside, they had forgiven her.

"Come back you sons of a bitch!!!"

John ran down the stairs and headed for the entrance. Thank God he hadn't turned off the engine when he'd arrived earlier. It was his brotherly instinct that had told him something bad was happening to Jack and he'd dashed out of the car to get to his brother's aid. He buckled Jack in the passenger's seat and got himself into the driver's seat. Without looking back at the foyer or what could have appeared there, John pulled the gear and stepped on the gas with all his might.

Looking at the rear view mirror, he saw his step-father swaying his fist in the air as he chased their car with rage. They kept on driving until finally the man disappeared from the mirror, replaced by swirls of dust rising on their trails.

John kept pressing the gas until he was sure they were far away from that place they used to call home. Then only he stopped by the roadside to check on his brother. He patted the steering wheel fondly, thanking the old SUV he had 'borrowed' from Mr. Kingston – the owner of the ranch he was working at – for such a marvellous job. It might be old, but it surely could drive.

An amused snort caused John to blush. "What?" He looked at Jack – half expecting to see his brother grinning like an idiot. But Jack was slumping in the seat instead, looking tired and beat.

"You and cars…sometimes I wondered whether you're into any relation with them." Jack curled his lips into a thin smile and winced when it hurt so much.

"Hey! You okay?" John did a quick round up on his brother – pressing assessing fingers on Jack's battered side to look for abnormalities on his ribs, poking on his abdomen to ensure no internal bleeding had taken place – before Jack smacked his hand away.

"M'fine John…" Jack hissed. John's fingers were adding to his pain, not helping – but to feel John's touch again felt so damn good. "I've had worse."

John studied Jack's face with endless sympathy. "I'm sorry Jackie…should've come earlier."

"Hey! You came right?" Jack closed his eyes, feeling so exhausted all of a sudden. "Just promise me you'd never leave again."

A smile was drawn over John's face. The "You're such a girl Jackie-O," that he'd been missing to say couldn't be contained anymore.

The 13-year-old grunted with annoyance. "Just promise man."

John didn't stop smiling when he turned on the ignition and put the car into gear. Casting a quick glance to Jack, the smile just grew wider. Jack was sound asleep, lost to the world. The pain scrunches on his face had vanished completely. When they were finally on the road again, then he whispered…

"I've got you now… and I'll never let you go, never."

…………………………………….

"Why didn't you promise me John?" Jack whispered painfully as he rubbed the ring on his finger. That was the only thing that made him feel connected to his big brother, John Winchester.

"Here! Put this on…" John tossed his silver ring to Jack without even looking at him.

"Why?" Still, Jack put the ring on.

"It's my lucky charm…I want you to have it." John laced his boots.

"What?!" Jack asked bewildered and began to take the ring off before his brother put a hand on his, stopping him. He looked up to find John smiling. "Then what about you? I couldn't take this John." Half an hour before a battle and John had given him his lucky charm the he always boasted to have saved his ass numerous times before – Jack couldn't accept it, he didn't want to risk his brother's life.

"I don't need any lucky charm Jack…I have you don't I?"

"You should have promised… then you wouldn't have left and never came back…" Jack twisted the ring as a lone tear rolled down his cheek. He clutched his head in his hands and started crying. "Why didn't you promise?"

"Oh God!! What have I done?!" he cried sadly. His body shook with every hitching breath. For the first time after more than two decades, Jack couldn't contain his feeling anymore. He felt so sick – as if all the pain and the loneliness he'd been keeping inside started to avenge him all at once. "John…oh John…"

Jack kept on crying as he sat on the ground – his back against the Impala. The car was another thing that made him feel close to John, his long gone big brother.

………………………………….

Matt stood in sheer silence as he watched his old man breaking down like a child near the Impala. He had seen Jack squeeze his way out from the cabin half an hour ago - despite the mounting tension in the atmosphere - and decided to follow him.

However when Jack walked around the Impala with one hand stroking the metallic body of the car, Matt stopped and waited on the porch, hiding in the shadows, keeping himself away from his father's view.

When Jack sagged down near the Impala's wheel and started crying, Matt was taken aback. He had never seen his old man looking so wretched and broken before. His father had always been rough and hard, refusing to let emotions rocking him in whatever ways possible. But now Jack looked awfully different – someone that Matt had never known for all his life. Matt's heart ached seeing the different side of Jack – a man who Matt thought never knows what emotions meant.

"Hey?"

Matt quickly wiped away his tear – one streak that he didn't realize he had shed – and turned around, finding the youngest Winchester standing behind him, all tall and leggy. "Hi Sam," was all the he could manage.

"Have you seen Dean?" Sam looked around but soon realized Matt was trying really hard to block his view.

"Think I saw him in the backyard."

The dinner hadn't worked out so well. Instead of a celebration it turned into a heart-to-heart talk session that turned real bad in the end. Everybody hadn't eaten too much albeit they were starving and everybody had left the table even before finishing their meals.

"Oh…guess things turned out pretty bad huh?" Sam hunched his shoulders with defeat. "And we thought we'd won."

"Hey…at least now we know we're family." Matt smiled. Despite the tension stretching around them, Matt was really thrilled of the fact that they still people they could call family.

A dimpled smile appeared on Sam's face. "Yeah…you're right." He rubbed his neck nervously, almost shyly. "Cool huh? How things can change in just one night."

The youngest of both families studied each other's faces and laughed. But suddenly another fact dawned on them, silencing them at instant.

"Now if only everyone would share…" Sam sighed.

Matt couldn't agree more. He wished Kyle and Dean, and his father would have been more cheerful about the reunion. "If only…"

……………………………….

Dean leant against the door frame scrutinizing his surroundings. The backyard was eerily silent, no sounds of crickets and no croaking frogs – for laymen it would have been creepy. But he knew creepy. Creepy in hunter's world meant death was lurking around the corner. This silence though was not creepy. It was just…quiet.

Looking around, his eyes fell on a figure sitting at the dock by the lake. Dean squinted hard and realized he was looking at Kyle. Raking his hair with his fingers Dean sighed.

Kyle. He'd used to babysit Kyle, let the boy call him Deannie, just like Sam would. As a toddler, Kyle clung to him with devotion, almost idolizing him. And Dean had never made any differences between Sam and Kyle – whatever Sam had got from Dean, Kyle would have gotten it too. Whenever Sam had crept onto Dean's bed during a thunderstorm, Kyle would follow suit. Then Dean would spread his arms and took them both into his embrace. He had treated both kids equally. Loving Kyle like his own little brother was his way of thanking Jack and Kyle for taking care of him and Sammy.

Dean rubbed his face and let out another sigh. Oh God!

Only God knew how much he missed that kid. But seeing how the kid's face fell after his father had revealed the big secret, Dean's heart ached with him. He understood Kyle's pain very well – betrayed by a father he'd always looked up to, to be denied of his right to have a family and to be detached from his privilege of being his father's son – only Dean would understand him. For the most of it, Dean thought he knew how Kyle would have felt towards him.

But he dared to take the chance. So Dean went back into the kitchen, retrieved two bottles of beer from the fridge and headed towards the dock.

"Rough night huh?" Dean sat down on the mossy planks, right next to Kyle. Shoving the beer into the kid's lap, Dean didn't wait for him to take it or to thank him for it. Kyle looked at him questioningly, his mouth gaping as if wanting to say something but he decided to shut up instead.

"You can say that again." Kyle said as he studied the bottle in his hand. He'd been beer intolerant – if that was possible - but now Kyle thought he was in bad need of the drink. So he took off the cap and downed half of the content.

"Whoa! Easy there dude." Dean was astonished. He didn't really intend for the kid to get drunk on him, but then again a bottle of beer couldn't bring much harm right?

"Don't get me wrong man…but God! I hate you."

Dean studied Kyle's face, identifying whether Kyle was already drunk and it was the beer doing the talking. But no, it wasn't. Whatever Kyle might have said, he really meant it.

"Couldn't argue with that." Dean nodded as he took a sip from his bottle.

"He had kept the secret from us for more than twenty years…why did he reveal it now? I mean…twenty years dude." Kyle shook his head with disbelief. The beer was beginning to show its effect on him. Damn! That was quick. "And why you…why not me or Matt?"

Dean shrugged. "I…I just don't know."

Then silence crept in, leaving the guys speechless.

"I said I hate you didn't I?" Suddenly Kyle turned to Dean and grinned like an idiot. "It's not true dude…I think I love you, really."

Dean's eyes widened. 'Shit!'. Only one swing from the bottle, not even half of its content and the kid was already drunk. "Man, don't tell me you never had one of these before."

"What? This?" Kyle held up the bottle and laughed. "Dude, I'm allergic to it! I could die from it!" As his laugher intensified, Kyle threw his arms around Dean's shoulders, hugging him tight.

"Shit!" Dean was taken aback. He had seen the weirdest but people allergic to beers? That was just freaking weird. "You should have said something!"

"I thought you were not real!" Kyle pulled himself away from Dean and grinned even wider. "Like some sort of imaginary friend...or brother." Then, out of the blue, Kyle started weeping.

"I missed you guys so much…I remember looking for you around the house, calling your names," Kyle's breath hitched. "Dude, our old men? They were mean," he sobbed.

"Kyle, I really think you should throw up." Dean eased Kyle around and bent him over the dock, hitting him hard on his back. If what Kyle said was true about him being allergic to beers, one sip would have been lethal.

"No!" Kyle swatted Dean's hand away. "It's very hard for me…to live my life thinking my past was a made up memories, an imagination of a little boy who had just lost his mom." He cried sadly as he fell onto his side, curling himself up. "Do you know how bad it felt to have your own father telling you that all the things you remembered were lies only to find out you were right, that they were real?"

"You're talking to the right person man."

"And then…he…he chose you instead of me." Kyle's face had turned eerily pale. "All these years…he'd been grieving over you, gave us hard time trying to understand him, God!!"

Dean was at a loss for words. He understood just too well of how the kid was feeling. Whatever thought that was plaguing his mind was spoken out by Kyle and he was not sure he liked it.

A violent tremor ran through Kyle's body, threatening to intensify into waves of spasms.

"Damn it!" Dean pried Kyle's mouth open and stuck his finger into the kid's throat which caused Kyle to gag. "Don't fight it kiddo…just spit it all out!" and he almost jumped with triumph when the young Callahan vomited, spewing whatever he had consumed over the last half an hour into the lake.

When he was done, Kyle huddled up and wept sadly. His trembling arms went around his midsection, trying to minimize the cramps. "Why…why they were so mean?"

Dean patted Kyle's shoulder, the way he used to do when the kid was younger – when he couldn't sleep during a thunderous night. "I wish I knew kid…I wish I knew."

Carding his fingers through Kyle's damp hair, he really wished the boy didn't remember anything from their past – couldn't remember him and Sam, like Sam – because remembering meant he was living in a made up world, and it hurt like hell. Dean understood it well because it was how he had lived his life lying to himself that Kyle, Jack, Jenny and Matt never existed.

"I'm sorry you remembered Kyle." Dean whispered. Feeling Kyle's forehead for fever, he smiled sadly when the young man leaned into his touch. The kid was sinking fast into oblivion. "Wish things could have been better for you."

Sliding one arm under Kyle's knees and another across his back, Dean heaved the young Callahan into his arms. Looking at Kyle's face, he couldn't help but see the young Kyle he had known before. He really wished Kyle didn't have to go through this but for now he hoped Kyle would not remember tonight when he woke up tomorrow.

"I miss you too kiddo," with that Dean started his way back to the cabin.

TBC

a/n: Didn't dare to say this is going to be the last chap anymore. The story is haunted - it has a life of its own. Yikes! Thanks for everyone who had been sticking to this fic so far, reading, reviewing remarkably, and putting it their alert/fav list (awesome!). I couldn't thank you enough for the support on my firstborn here. THANK YOU!!!