so another new chappy... I think there is about one more chappy to go before I begin to delve into the healing process for the entire Winchester clan. Thanks for reading and for all the wonderful reviews!! bambers;)

Chapter Forty-Three

Deacon hadn't been gone all that long from the cabin John had rented when he'd received the call from Dean saying that Dominic's men had gone after Sam. Although the middle Winchester believed that the cult leader's followers were going after Sam, Deacon wondered if it was just another ploy meant to break Dean more than he was already broken. Yet he knew he couldn't afford to underestimate the madman either.

But as he pulled into the long driveway leading to the cabin, a sudden sense of dread settled over him. It was nearing dark outside, and yet not a single light shone from the two front windows. Deacon slowed his truck, pulled off into the grass, and killed the engine. For several moments, he watched for any movements coming from within the dwelling, his uneasiness growing as the seconds ticked by without seeing any signs of John or Sam. At the very least, he had expected to see the eldest Winchester peer out the window to see who had driven into the driveway, and the fact that he didn't, set off clear warning bells inside Deacon's head.

Deacon grabbed for his gun, and slid out of the truck, quietly shutting the door behind him. Although he would have preferred to rush right inside the cabin, years of being a police officer told him he needed to secure the perimeter and check for any hidden dangers. If he just ran headlong into the house without giving it any thought, he would not only be putting John and Sam in danger, but himself as well.

Easing himself around to the backside of the cabin, Deacon noticed a light coming from inside the small storage shed. With his gun raised and mindful of his surroundings, he cautiously crept toward the outbuilding. Slowly he turned the handle, and pried open the door to have a look inside. His breath caught in his throat as he saw his longtime friend handcuffed to a chair with a bomb taped to his chest. Blood dripped from a deep gash in his forehead, and even from where he was standing, Deacon could see the raised welt on the hunter's forehead. Thick gray duct tape was pressed over John's mouth, but it didn't keep him from nudging his head toward the house.

Although Deacon understood that John wanted him to go after Sam, he couldn't leave the eldest Winchester without first trying to disarm the bomb. Now reverting back to using all his military training, Deacon accessed the explosive device and swore under his breath when he notice Dominic's men had used a mercury switch in the detonator. "Whatever you do, John, don't move a muscle," he ordered, as he carefully pried off the tape covering his friend's mouth. "The damn thing's on a mercury switch, so if you do we both get blown all to hell."

"Jus' leave it an' go save Sammy," John hissed, careful not to make even the slightest movement.

"I can't leave you like this," Deacon argued as he located the timer, and swore again as he saw that he had less than ten minutes left to disarm the bomb. "Jus' let me disarm this damn thing an' then we'll both go after Sam together."

"No, you go save Sam now." John's voice trembled as he spoke, eyes filling with stark fear as they met and held Deacon's gaze. "They had a second bomb, an' if you try an' save me first, he'll be dead by the time you reach him."

"I can't jus' leave you to die, John," Deacon tried to reason as he made to disarm the bomb.

"I swear, if you don't go after Sammy now, I'll make sure neither of us leaves this building alive."

The look of fierce determination now gleaming in the hunter's dark orbs left Deacon with no doubt that he would do just as he had said. "I didn't save my boy from that sonuvabitch just to let him die now. So you go after him, an' you save his life for me. Do you hear me?"

"I can save you both. I swear I can."

"Good, save him first an' then come back for me."

From past experience, Deacon knew there was no point in arguing with John when he had made his mind up about something. And with the knowledge that his son's life was in danger, John would go to any means to save him, even if that meant he died himself in the process.

Deacon hesitated for the briefest of moments before he nodded. "Alright, John, I'll do it your way."

"Thanks, Deacon." John paused to draw in a shallow breath, and then uttered, "If you can't . . . I mean if there isn't enough time, tell them both . . . ." his voice trailed off as tears filled his eyes. "Make sure they know I . . . ."

"Don't worry, John, I'll make sure they know," Deacon assured. With his heart breaking for his friend, he turned and bolted out the door.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

From Dominic taunts, Dean knew his little brother was running out of time. If he didn't reach Sam soon then it wouldn't matter if the cult leader was dead, he still would have won. In killing the youngest Winchester, he would succeed in killing Dean as well. It didn't matter if it was actually by Dominic's hand that Dean was murdered, if Sam died tonight, Dean would follow him in his death.

With that thought in mind, Dean broke every traffic law in the book as he sped toward the cabin his father had rented. Blowing through every single red stoplight he came across, he nearly struck several vehicles, but never even bothered to slow down in the slightest as he raced against the clock to save his brother.

"He's gonna be alright," came Bobby's reassuring voice from the backseat as he placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "We'll make it in time."

"You don't know that, Bobby," Dean responded in a deadly calm tone. "Dominic said I'd never make it in time to save Sammy."

"Well, he'd have to make it past yer Dad, an' I jus' don't see that happening."

"Yeah, cause my Dad's always around when we need him the most, isn't he?" Glancing in the rearview mirror, Dean narrowed his eyes on the older man, daring him to deny that John was never around when they needed him. "Hell, they should give him a trophy for Father of the Year cause he's been such a great dad."

"I'm not sayin' he's always been there, what I'm sayin' is he's here now. So give him a break cause he's doin' the best he can."

"His best just isn't good enough anymore, Bobby. Me an' Sammy deserved better than this." He gestured around the Impala, and then toward the broken windshield. "We deserved better than gunshot wounds and broken bones, an' so many damn scars I can't even keep track of them anymore."

Bobby fell silent, not about to argue the point with Dean. The younger man was right. They did deserve a helluva lot better than the lives that had been thrust upon them. But no matter how much he might have wished they could lead regular lives, they had been raised to be hunters and never would fit in with normal society no matter how hard they tried.

"I've done everything he's ever asked of me. I never complained, never question him. I tried to save as many people as I could . . . tried to save her, jus' like he taught me . . . ." Dean's voice trailed off as he brusquely raked his fingers through his short, bristly hair. She was gonna have my baby . . . I was gonna be a dad, an he jus' took that away from me. He took everything, but I'll be damned if he takes Sammy, too.

Dean pressed the accelerator to the floor, and picking up speed, he flew out of town. White-knuckling the steering wheel, he took a right turn on two-wheels, tired screeching loudly as he hit the brakes to accommodate the sudden turn. As he sped up once again, Dean kept an eye out for the log cabin hidden amongst the trees that his father had rented. Up ahead in the distance, Dean noticed a flag with a picture of two humming birds depicted on it, and immediately slowed to a crawl. Deacon had said that the cabin was the next house right after the colorful bird flag. But even with that helpful marker, Dean still nearly missed the stone driveway nestled beneath a canopy of trees.

Pulling into the driveway, he came to a grinding halt next to Deacon's truck. Not waiting to see if Bobby would follow, he flung open the car door and bolted for the cabin. The front door smacked hard against the wall as he threw it open and burst into the room. Dean stopped dead in his tracks when he saw that his little brother's hands and ankles were tied to the bed. As he crept closer to the bed, his fearful gaze met and held his brother's. Several new bruises littered his brother's face, purplish welts mingling with older faded ones.

Dean took another step forward, and then halted abruptly, his breath catching in his throat as he saw some sort of explosive device duct taped to Sam's chest. Sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down from the nape of his neck as he quickly closed the gap and came to stand in front of his brother. As carefully as he could manage, he removed the gage from Sam's mouth, and tossed it aside.

"I'm gonna get you outta this, Sammy, don't worry," he breathed as he studied the bomb, and noted that he only had a little over five minutes to save his brother's life. Stark fear wrapped itself around his heart as he realized he had no idea how to disarm the explosive.

The bomb itself was encased inside of a metal box. In the center of the steel box, a smaller Plexiglas box held the digital timer. Three colored wires coming from inside the metal housing mechanism were attached to a timer. Beneath the timer was a small cylinder tube with what looked like liquid silver floating in the center. With each breath Sam took, the silver liquid moved back and forth toward the end of the tube. Even if Dean had never actually seen a bomb in real life, he'd watched enough movies to know that the tiny silver blob inside the cylinder was mercury.

"D-Dean, I ---"

"Sammy, don't talk," Dean abruptly cut him off as he saw the mercury bob closer toward the end of the tube. "An' whatever you do, don't move."

Dean swung to look around for tools to pry open the box and wire cutters to snip the wires leading to timer. Rushing to the kitchen cabinets and drawers, he threw them open and quickly rummaged through them. In the third drawer he searched through, he found a small screwdriver along with a pair of cutters. With tools in hand, he scurried back to the bed, and very carefully eased himself onto the mattress.

Damn it, what the hell am I supposed to do? I don't know how to disarm a freakin' bomb.

"Stop, Dean," came a voice from near the front door way.

Startled, Dean jerked, and his heart skipped a beat as the mercury slid closer to the detonator. Sam let out a small whimper, tears slipping down the sides of his face as he eyed the bomb and then looked to Dean, silently begging him to save him.

"Stay back, Deacon," Dean murmured, careful to move as little as possible for fear he might set off the explosive. "I've got this."

"Listen to me, Dean," Deacon commanded in a strained voice, "your father is in the shed with a bomb tied to him, too. I'm gonna go back out there an' we're gonna disarm these damn things simultaneously, but I need you to do exactly what I say, precisely when I tell you to do it. Understand?"

Without turning to look at the older man, Dean hissed through gritted teeth, "How the hell am I supposed to do that when you're out there an' I'm in here?"

"I want you to carefully take out your cell phone, an' I'll call you." Deacon drew in a deep breath as he waited until Dean did as he had asked, and then further added, "You can do this, Dean, you jus' gotta be real careful. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yeah."

"Alright." Without saying another word, Deacon slipped out of the house, heading back to the shed to save John.

Within a matter of moments, Dean's phone rang and he immediately answered it. "What do I gotta do first?" he said in a breathless rush, hands trembling as he cradled the phone against his ear and shoulder.

"Carefully unscrew the four screws around the glass box, then slowly remove it. An' whatever you do, make sure you don't hit the little glass cylinder." Deacon was silent for a moment, his steady breathing the only sound coming over the line. "We'll do it together, Dean. Are you ready."

"Uh huh," Dean said as he position his screwdriver over the first of the four screws. From behind him, he sensed that Bobby was nearby and it gave him the courage to proceed onward.

"Okay, do it now," Deacon instructed.

Sweat dripped down into his eyes as he painstakingly removed all four of the screws. "Okay, got 'em all. Now I'm takin' off the box."

"You're doin' great, Dean." Deacon waited a moment, and then added, "Jus' take it slow, got me?"

"Yeah, I gotcha," Dean muttered as he cautiously lifted the glass box off the explosive and set it aside. Wiping the sweat off his forehead and out of his eyes, he then glanced at the time, and swore under his breath. "Only three minute's left, what's next?"

"There should be three wires leading to the timer, do you see them?"

"Yeah, there are three of 'em. Blue, red, an' black."

"Good. On the count of three, we are both gonna cut the blue wire. Got me?"

Swallowing hard, Dean took the wire cutters in hand and prepared to do as Deacon had instructed. "Okay, on your count."

"One . . . two . . . three."

Dean snipped the wire the second he heard three, and the timer stopped on two minutes twenty-seven seconds. "The timer stopped." He breathed a sigh of relief until heard ticking coming from inside the metal box. "Damn it, the box is still ticking, Deacon."

"That's alright, Dean, I expected that," Deacon assured, "there's probably an internal timer inside the box, but we took care of the mercury switch. Now get your screwdriver and open the box."

Unscrewing each of the four screws, Dean carefully removed the lid, making sure he lifted it straight up so as not to jar anything inside the explosive. "It's off."

"Alright, so is mine," Deacon uttered after a second. "What do you see?"

"It looks like a brick of grayish-pink putty with metal rods sticking out of it."

"Okay, I got the same thing here," Deacon confirmed that both bombs were made of the same materials. "You should see a detonating cord an' two detonating clips. On the end of the clips, they should be capped with boosters."

"Yeah, I see 'em." Dean cast a hasty glance in his brother's direction, and tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it died on his lips when he saw the terrified look in his brother's hazel eyes. "Don't worry, Sammy, I gotcha, I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

Returning his attention to Deacon, Dean uttered, "What do I do now?"

"I want you to carefully remove both clips, on the count of three. Understand?"

Drawing in a calming breath, he took hold of both clips. "Yep, gotcha."

"One . . . two . . . three."

Dean heaved a deep sigh as he removed the clips and the ticking stopped. "Did we do it? It stopped ticking . . . is it disarmed?"

After several very long seconds, wherein Dean's heart pounded wildly against his chest, Deacon finally uttered, "Yeah, Dean, we did it."

With the older man's confirmation that both bombs had successfully been disarmed, Dean nearly collapsed. His body trembled uncontrollably as he untied Sam from the bed and removed the explosive from his chest. Bobby moved to help him, but Dean pushed him away.

"I got this," he said in a shaky voice as he removed the last of the binds holding his little brother, and pulled him into his embrace, wrapping his arms firmly around Sam's back. "I gotcha, little brother," he soothed as he felt Sam tremble against him and heard him sobbing. "I swear it's all over, that sonuvabitch is never gonna hurt you again."