Thanks to everyone who is still reading!! SO starts the long road to recovery cause there is just no way in hell the boys would just hop into the Impala and drive of into the sunset after what i've put them through...so, i figure the aftermath will be quite long...bambers;)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Hearing the sound of the Father's voice, Dawn hastily glanced around and spotted the madman hidden in the shadows of one of the buildings. A glint of light caught her eye, and she squinted to see that he had a gun pointed directly at Sam, but before he had a chance to fire his weapon, she let go of Sam and forcefully pushed him to the ground. As the sound of gunfire ripped through the night, Dawn jerked forward, a cry of pain dying on her lips as she dropped to the ground on top of Sam.

Through the haze of pain, she glanced up and saw John rushing toward her, then lowered her head and clung to Sam. "S-Sam," she cried out, tears slipping down her cheeks as she felt blood rapidly covering her shirt.

Sam slowly turned and wrapped his arms around her, and weakly held her to him. "D-Dawn . . . don't d-do this . . .stay with me . . . y-you an' me, remember?"

"Told y-you we'd m-make it," she responded in a faint whisper. She lifted her head and kissed him lightly on the lips, and felt his arms wrap more firmly around her. "L-love you, S-Sam."

"D-Dawn?" Sam heard Dawn gasp for breath and felt her slump against him as something warm soaked through the blanket that was around him, but refused to believe that she was dying. She'd been the only reason he was still alive, the only hope that he'd clung so desperately to as the Father and Dean had tortured him relentlessly, and he wasn't about to let her die now. "Come on, D-Dawn . . . d-don't do this to me. I-I need you w-with me . . . I love you."

"Sam," came his father's voice, soft and low beside him, "she's gone, Sammy."

John tried to gently pry Dawn from his arms, but Sam held her all the tighter, refusing to let her go. If he let go of her now, that would mean that she was really dead, and Sam just couldn't accept that. Wouldn't accept that. He would keep her alive like she'd kept him alive, and if that meant never letting go of her, he was more than prepared to do just that.

"She's dead, Sammy," John tried again, and this time Sam was no match for his father's sheer strength as he ripped Dawn from Sam's embrace. "You have to let her go," his father went on to say, his voice sounding strangely straggled and strained. "You jus' have to let her go."

"No . . . she's n-not . . . she h-has to be okay." He turned pleading eyes to his father, and when John sadly shook his head, a blood-curdling scream of pain ripped from Sam's lips. Over and over again, he screamed out until he felt as if his throat closed up, hemming in all his pain, turning it inward to ravage his battered soul.

"Deacon," John shouted to his longtime friend, who had dropped to the ground to retrieve his weapon, after being shot in the arm, and was now back on his feet, heading toward where he had last seen Dominic. He quickly scanned the area, searching for any signs of the cult leader, but Dominic was gone. He turned back to look at his son who had been screaming a moment ago, but was now just staring off blankly into space, and John's fear increased tenfold, terrified that he was losing his youngest son. "Forget about him for now, we gotta get Sam outta here."

"We gotta get that sonuvabitch, John," Deacon hollered back, "let him go now an' we might not get another chance."

"Don't give a rat's ass about him at the moment, have to get Sam to a hospital. Now." John placed a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder as he glanced around one more time looking for Dominic, and then refocused his attention on his son. He had never been able to reach his youngest son before, they had always butted heads over even the smallest of issues, and had it not been for Dean, John knew Sam would have left home long before he actually did. And he was at a complete loss as to how to get through to him now, and mentally kicked himself for not forcing Dean to come with them. "Sam," he began in a low shaky tone, "have to get you to the hospital . . . gonna call Bobby and have him bring Dean there, 'kay?"

Sam instantly recoiled from him, overwhelming fear filled his hazel eyes as he began to tremble uncontrollably. He shook his head emphatically as he continued to back away from John. Fearful childlike eyes pleaded with John as Sam opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words issued past his quivering lips.

"You don't want Dean there," John asked, horrible understanding dawning on him, and when Sam relaxed a little in his rigid posture, John knew that he was right. Sam was afraid of Dean. Somehow in the amount of time the boys had been held captive by Dominic, he had managed to destroy them both completely. From what he'd seen and heard from his oldest, Dean hated Sam, and now from what he was learning from Sam at this very moment, his youngest was absolutely terrified of Dean. "Alright, Sammy, he doesn't have to come to the hospital, if you don't want him there," he managed to force out past the thick lump in his throat.

John looked to Deacon, and a subtle understanding passed between them as they carefully helped Sam to his feet, and slowly made their way to John's truck. For now, they just needed to concentrate on getting Sam to the hospital so he could begin to heal physically, and then the long hard road to recovering emotionally would begin.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"Not gonna argue you with you about this, John," Deacon said as they waited to hear any word as to how Sam's surgery to repair the damage to his hands was progressing. "I have well over a month's vacation time saved up, an' I'm taking it. You need my help, so stop bein' such a stubborn ass an' just accept what I'm offering."

"Can handle this on my own," John stubbornly refused, although a small part of himself was terrified that Deacon would take him at his word. He had never liked asking for help, but knew he was in way over his head.

"Don't really care if you think you can handle this on your own cause I am staying." Deacon shifted in his seat to look at John, and a worried frown creased his brow. "Look, John, this isn't gonna be an easy fix. Can't just slap a bandage on their wounds, slap 'em on the back, an' send them out hunting again." He drew in a deep breath as he ran his fingers through his thick, dark brown hair. "The way Dominic messed with their minds, I'm not sure they'll ever totally recover from this, an' you need to be prepared for that."

Feeling hot tears stinging at his eyes, John lowered his head to look at his clasped hands. "How am I suppose to get through to them, Deacon? How am I supposed to even begin undoing all the damage that sonuvabitch did to my boys?"

"Well, the first thing we gotta do is start deprogramming Dean, an' I can tell you right now, it isn't gonna be easy." Deacon was silent for a moment, allowing John to digest what he had just said, before he continued, "But I think he'll be the only one who will be able to get through to Sam. So I think it's imperative that we begin as soon as possible."

"You saw the look in Sam's eyes, he's terrified of his older brother," John argued, hating the idea of his youngest son being afraid of his oldest. "Not sure that's such a good idea."

"The only way Sam's gonna see that he has nothing to be afraid of, is if he sees his brother and realizes he has nothing to fear from him."

"Only problem is that right now I don't think his fears would be all that unfounded," John reluctantly admitted, "I mean, you didn't see Dean in the church. Really think he would've tried to kill me if he had the chance. So how the hell am I supposed to trust him with Sammy's life?"

"Well, then we've got to get started as soon as possible cause the longer we wait, the harder it'll be for both of them."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"Unfreakin' tie me, Bobby," Dean snarled as he twisted and turned, trying to break loose of the zip-cuffs around his wrists and ankles. "You have no right holding me here against my will."

Bobby heaved a heavy sigh, having already told Dean numerous times that he wasn't about to untie him until John came back to the motel. John had made it abundantly clear that Dean was too dangerous at the moment to let him go free, and Bobby was beginning to believe his longtime friend was right on the matter.

Not once had Dean asked about Sam, and earlier when Bobby had mentioned the youngest Winchester, Dean practically flew into a rage. And in the end, Bobby had to walk outside before he said something to Dean that he would eventually regret.

Scrubbing a hand across his scruffy beard, he muttered, "Already told ya at least twenty times now, that I ain't lettin' ya go."

Dean narrowed his eyes on Bobby, pure hatred glinting in their stormy green depths. "Was it you who killed my wife, Bobby. Cause if it was, I will kill you."

"Didn't kill anyone, Dean . . . was using tranquilizer guns," Bobby slumped down onto the couch, suddenly feeling exhausted and completely worn out from lack of sleep and the events of the last few days. "We never planned on killing anyone," he uttered, although he knew that John had every intention of killing Dominic for what the madman had done to his sons. "We were jus' tryin' to get you out of there alive."

"Bullshit, Bobby," Dean shot back as he continued to writhe around on the bed, trying desperately to break loose. "You think I didn't see all my brothers and sisters lying dead on the ground? Think I can't tell if a person is freakin' dead by now?"

"If they were dead, it wasn't because of us," Bobby's voice rose several octaves, not liking it at all that the younger man was accusing him of killing anyone. "John made it very clear that unless our lives were in danger, we weren't to kill anyone."

"Let me go, Bobby," Dean's tone turned to pleading as he stopped squirming and glanced over at Bobby. "Want to go back home to my Father . . . to what's left of my family."

"They ain't your family, boy," Bobby tried to reason, lowering his voice when he saw the look of pain in Dean's eyes. "John an' Sam are your family. Everything they've done to try an' get you back should prove that much to you."

"Sonuvabitch, let me freakin' go." Dean shot forward in his bed, and yanked with all his strength on the zip-cuffs, to no avail. "Gonna break free at some point, you know I will, then nothin' you can do will keep me here."

"Maybe I can't, but your Dad can."

"He's not my Dad . . . he's not." Dean twisted some more, kicking outward with his feet, but still the cuffs held firm. "Can't keep me here like this forever, an' the moment I'm free, I'm going back to my family."

"An' then your Dad will just come after you again. He's your father, not Dominic. Sam's your brother . . . you have no other family besides them."

"No, John's a selfish sonuvabitch who only ever cared about hunting that damn demon, an' takin' care of his precious little Sammy." Anger seething from him, Dean drew in a breath and continued, "An' Sam, that sorry little sonuvabitch, well, he only ever cared about himself. Couldn't wait to hightail it away from John an' — he made it very clear that he has no ties with any family. An' I don't care if I ever see his cowardly face again. So are you gonna let me go, or do I have to break free . . . cause if I do have to break free, you better not be anywhere around here when I do."

There was so much venom and hatred in Dean's tone that Bobby visibly flinched. He'd never thought he'd live to see the day when Dean wasn't in protective mode of his family, nor had he ever thought Dean would threaten him either. And if Dominic was there at the moment, Bobby would've probably killed the man himself for what he had done to the Winchesters.

"Dean, your little brother needs you . . . needs you now more than ever before — "

"Well, that's too damn bad, cause I sure as hell don't need him," Dean was quick to cut him off, "he's not my freakin' problem anymore. He made that point very clear to me."

"You really don't care about them, do you?" Bobby slumped further into the couch cushions, all the fight leaving him as the coldness behind Dean's words struck him full-force. "What the hell did that monster do to you?"

"Opened my eyes," Dean replied as if the answer should be obvious. "My Father cares about me. Wants me to be happy . . . wanted me to have a family of my own . . . and that's a helluva lot more than John ever wanted for me."