Dean learned to suck it up and keep moving. He stopped questioning it when John would take off for a week or two, leaving Dean directions telling him where to go next. Dean took the coordinates and moved, another spirit in Kentucky, a skin walker in Utah, cursed objects in Montana and Mississippi. He followed orders with his head down, trying to think that John didn't think he was good enough to find the cases himself. They'd meet up every so often take down something together, then split up again. They were never actually apart for more than a week and a half at the most, not without John calling saying the job was more complicated than he thought. Dean took to looking for new cases while they were still researching one to try to show his dad that he was capable, but he had a hard time focusing on more than one thing at time.
It was kind of nice, he guested. When he got some down time he got to pretend he was a regular guy just rolling through. He could be who the people around him needed him to be, he didn't need to be the eyes front solider ready to jump when the order was given. He could be anyone, and at this point in his life, that was the closest he got to be himself.
"We got cattle mutilations, electrical storms, and temperature fluctuations up near Eugene, Oregon." John said as he kicked Dean's boot, pulling the young man's attention from the Walkman he was fiddling with in a motel room in Atlanta. They'd barely been together for a week, just taken out a creature that fed on nightmares, basically scaring children to death and sucking their brains out.
"Great," Dean nodded. "I got something in Maryland, looks like a spirit. It's been taking teenagers that dare each other to spend the night for years."
"I'll let Bobby know, he'll send someone else to it," John said. "Let's get going."
"But... I found my own case," Dean said. "I thought that was our thing now. We do a big job together then split up and do a couple little things."
"You think what's going on in Oregon is a little thing?" John asked seriously.
"I don't know what it is," Dean replied. "Honestly sounds like a freak weather thing."
"Since when are cattle mutilations are a 'freak weather thing,' Dean?" John replied. "You got a problem following orders?"
"No, sir," Dean shook his head and turned his attention back to the Walkman.
"Stop being lazy, then" John replied. "We gotta get going."
"Yeah, okay," Dean sighed and placed the pieces of the Walkman and the screwdriver down on the bedside table. He stood up and started to gather his things.
"Knock off the attitude," John said watching Dean pack his stuff. "I'm getting real sick of dealing with your mouth. You're an adult now, stop acting like a bratty kid."
"Yes, sir," Dean said, standing straight and looking at his dad.
They drove basically nonstop, eating from drive throughs, sleeping for an hour or two at a truck stop before going again. Whatever his dad thought he had in Oregon was a big deal. Dean just wished his dad would let him in on what was going on inside his head.
"What are we chasing, exactly," Dean asked when they set up camp in Oregon. "Since this is clearly the most important case in the entire universe."
"Honestly," John said sitting at the desk of the motel room. "I don't have the faintest idea. It might be a demon, some kind of weird phenomenon. But I gotta chase it down."
"Why?" Dean asked.
He flipped his journal open and pointed out an entry. Dean walked up and stood over his father's shoulder. There was a crudely draw weather map of the States and list of dates on the page.
"What am I looking at?" Dean asked.
"I was working on it with Bobby," John explained. "Have been for over ten years now. We tracked a very similar pattern across the country. There was something like this in Ohio two years ago, Northern Georgia in '99, up near the Canadian border in in Idaho November '94, Arkansas in '91, member when I ripped you outta school before Thanksgiving and you through a temper tantrum because you had a little girlfriend and friends you played basketball with? This was the thing I was chasing."
"Okay…" Dean said confused. "I was twelve I don't really remember it all that good."
"The first week of November 1983," John grinned looking over to his son. "These signs showed up in Lawrence Kansas."
"You think this might be what killed mom?" Dean asked.
"Maybe," John answered. "Don't know. But it's worth chasing down every lead I can. This is what we've been following for a long time. I can't get ahead of it. I'm trying, but I just can't seem to figure out its pattern. It always leaves before I get where I last tracked it, ends up on the other side of the country six months later. Last time I was this close was in Idaho. Bobby and I got a glimpse of something mutilating the livestock, but not matter what we did, we couldn't kill it."
"But you think we might have it now?" Dean asked, he tried not to sound excited, but this was his whole life. Everything he'd worked for his whole life, he could be looking at the end of a long road.
"Maybe," John nodded. "Still ain't got the faintest as to what it could be, but I haven't been this close in a long time."
"Idaho," Dean nodded. "Over Thanksgiving when Sammy was eleven?"
"Yeah," John nodded. "Think I would miss a big holiday with my boys for nothing?"
Dean shrugged. "Didn't think you really noticed what time of year it was. The job came first."
"Other jobs can wait," John insured him. "This thing, though, when I see the signs, I'm all over that mother."
"You really think we can get it?" Dean asked, seriously.
"We just might, kiddo," John smiled. "Let's rest up, talk to the owner of the farm with the cattle deaths in the morning. Sound good?"
"Absolutely," Dean smiled.
He sat down on his head and pulled out the broken Walkman, fiddling with it again.
"What are you doing?" John asked closing his journal. "You've been messing with that thing for a month. I think it might be time to just let it die."
"I think I figured out a way to make it read EMF," Dean replied. "I don't really know how to test it, but I think I got the basics figured out. I'm gonna put lights on the top so it lights up when it's near paranormal energy and stuff."
"Huh," John nodded taking a seat on his bed opposite his son. "Good idea, who taught you that?"
"No one," Dean said not looking up. "I figured it out myself. The sound mechanism is really the only thing in this that works the wheel thing that turns the tapes are broken, but you can still get static. So working from the meters Bobby had laying around, I figured if I tinkered with it enough, I could pick up EMF on the headphones. . I just need a simple job, vengeful spirit or something to test it out. This job's too big to be fucking around with something that might not even work."
"You did this all yourself?" John asked skeptically.
"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I have a lot of free time."
"Sammy didn't teach ya how to do stuff like that?" John asked as he took off his shoes. "Seems like more of a Sam thing."
"No," Dean shook his head. "Sam's shit at stuff like this. He can't fix a car or anything like that."
"Making an EMF isn't rebuildin' an engine," John replied.
"Kinda is," Dean said. "Same concept, smaller parts. Once I took it apart it was pretty easy to figure it all out."
"Huh," John nodded. "Good for you. That's… um… kinda cool."
Dean smirked a little as he continued. That was pretty close to "I'm proud," Dean would take what he could get. He kept working on his EMF until he was too tired to focus on the tiny part and went to sleep.
The next morning, posing as reporters, they walked up to the house of Mr. and Mrs. McCann an elderly farmer and his wife. Dean was still working on his skills when it came to coning people into believing he was something he wasn't, so he stepped back and let his dad take the wheel.
"We're from The Register," John said flashing a press pass he made on his way over at copy shop. "We were hoping to talk to you about what happened to your cows last week?"
"Why's that news?" Mr. McCann huffed. "Buncha dead cows, no one cares about that."
"Well, sir," John back pedaled. "We've been looking into similar cases in up in Salem and a couple down in Jackson county."
"Guy gets his rocks off killing livestock and gots himself a truck," Mr. McCann answered waving his hands over his head. "That ain't none of my concern. Unless you're paying to get me fifty new milking cows, I ain't got nothing to say to reporters!"
"Alright then, sir," John nodded. "Thank you for your time."
"Get off my porch," Mr. McCann warned. "And I'm watching your little sidekick; I don't like the looks of him. Don't think about trying anything funny."
"I didn't do anything!" Dean exclaimed.
"You look like trouble," Mr. McCann explained. "I can tell by the look of ya."
"Let's go," John said turning around and grabbing Dean's arm. "Thank you again, sir."
"That went nice and smooth," Dean nodded as they got back into the Impala. They'd left John's truck at the motel, no sense in driving two cars all around town. "Definitely got some good leads from that interview."
"Shut the fuck up, Dean," John warned. "Clearly that man saw something he doesn't want to talk about. "
"Or he hates reporters," Dean shrugged as he climbed into the car. "Shoulda done it up as priests."
"This ain't high school drama club, smart ass," John said seriously. "This is a serious job. You don't dress up for fun. You get a badge and you push your way to the front. That's how I've been doing it for over twenty years and there ain't no sense in changing it up now."
"Yes, sir," Dean nodded eyes on the dashboard.
"I'm gonna drop you off at the library," John continued. "I want to see if the McCann's said anything right after it happened to any of the local papers. I'll be back in an hour, we'll grab some lunch, and regroup."
"What are you gonna do?" Dean asked softly.
"I'm going to check of the McCann's barn," John replied. "See if I can get anything."
"What if I used my EMF meter?" Dean asked. "Be a good chance to see if it works. If there was something there it would go off. See if it's worth getting the lights for the top."
"Nah," John shook his head. "You do the library thing."
"You're better at the library thing," Dean replied. "I'm better at the stealthy creeping around thing."
"I think you've been on your own too long," John said, pulling into the parking lot of the library. "Forgot how to do what you're told. I'm not going to put a whole case on a broken Walkman that may or may not pick up EMF. You can test it first. Then we'll use it on a case that isn't so important. Just do what I tell you to do. You gotta problem following orders?"
"No, sir," Dean shook his head. "I was just making a suggestion. I just thought that maybe it would help."
"Right," John nodded placing the car in park. "Well, I'm not messing around with new shit this late in the game. I'll be back in an hour."
"Yes, sir," Dean replied climbing out of the car.
Dean really wanted to ask what crawled up his father's ass, but he knew he was being a dick because of the gravity of the case. He knew deep down that this dad was pretty impressed with what Dean had managed to make out of Sam's broken Walkman. Once Dean could prove to him that it works, he wouldn't a giant asshole. Once whatever they were hunting was killed he wouldn't be so much of an ass. He just had to get through this one case then everything would be fine.
"I literally got shit," Dean said when John picked him up almost three hours later. "McCann didn't talk to anyone. Only thing I found was the one article you had about the cows dying. No follow up nothing."
"Figures," John sighed. "Barn's clean as far as I can tell."
"So what now?" Dean asked.
"Well," John said. "Every other time I've chased this thing, we've been able to find the center of the storms. If pattern keeps up, there should be another big electrical storm, we just gotta find the center of it, and hopefully, we'll find the creature."
"Alright," Dean nodded. "So we wait."
"Pretty much," John sighed.
"Can we get lunch?" Dean asked.
"Yeah," John answered. "There's a nice looking pizza place down the street. We can look at weather maps while we're there."
"Sounds good."
"Locals seem to think that the storm killed all the cows," Dean said through a mouthful of fries. "That's what I got from the newspaper article anyway."
"Yeah," John nodded. "But it wasn't. You know that, I know that. We just gotta find this thing and get rid of it."
"But we have no idea what it is?" Dean asked.
"I think it's a spirit," John replied. "An evil son of a bitch that messes with kids and kills whatever gets in their way."
"What?" Dean asked.
"It coulda kill Mary in our bedroom, but it killed her right over Sammy's crib, there's gotta be a reason for that."
"Okay," Dean shook his head. "But spirits are stuck to one place I thought, even evil horrible spirits."
"Yeah," John nodded. "Yeah they are, you're right. I… it's just this case, Dean."
"I get it," Dean replied. "I understand, I really do. I just think maybe we should take a step back, look at all of it. I think you're getting ahead of yourself."
"You don't understand this!" John said through tightly clenched teeth. "This is twenty- one years of my life."
"Mine too, Dad," Dean interjected. "This thing has been my whole life, the parts that I remember."
John shook his head.
"You gotta let me help you," Dean said. "You gotta let me be your partner in this or nothing's gonna work. It's gonna take off, and you're gonna be in the same place. I want this thing, too, just let me help."
"Yeah," John nodded. "Yeah okay." He handed Dean the weather map for him to look over. "I think if we go to the middle of the storms, we might be able to figure it out."
"Middle of the storm puts us right not he edge of the McCann property?" Dean asked. "That's what it looks like."
"Yeah," John nodded.
"So, let's head out there." Dean suggested. "Let's head back to the motel, regroup, stock up on whatever we need to kill this thing and go out there."
It was driving rain when they left the motel just after eight that night. That cold hard piercing rain that burns when it hits exposed skin. The rain was so hard against the windshield of the car that it seemed pointless to try to drive through it, but John wasn't going to let this go. They pulled the car off the road at a bridge by the property line and loaded up on weapons. They crept through the woods surrounding the McCann farm, each loaded up with guns, knives, rock salt, and flasks filled with holy water. Neither was sure what they were going to come up against, but both knew it wasn't going to be anything good. It got colder as they closer to where Dean had pinpointed the storm center of the last three big electrical storms.
"Just on the other side of this hill," Dean yelled over the driving rain.
"Right," John nodded. "I want to set up almost a sniper position, spy over the side."
"Yes, sir," Dean called back. He fell to his knees, crawling on his belly up to the crest of the hill.
As he reached the top of the hill he heard terrible laughing. He turned to look at his dad climbing up the hill next to him. He looked over with panic in his eyes, but his dad just nodded reassuringly.
There was a man standing in the middle of small clearing hands above his head laughing as the rain hit his face.
"Is that… is that Mr. McCann?" Dean asked when is father took position next to him.
"Looks like," John nodded.
John lined up his sawed off on the fallen tree in front of them and before Dean could stop him, fired. Even in the pouring rain the shot echoed. Dean watched McCann get shot, he knows a bullet entered that man's side, but he didn't fall. He turned toward the hill where John and Dean were hiding and raised a hand.
Dean wasn't sure what was happening but he was flying backward a good six feet in the air. His pistol was on the ground by his father who was flat on his back against the cold wet ground watching helplessly as Dean struggled against an invisible force.
"I knew you were a bad seed," although Mr. McCann was still standing in the clearing it sounded like he was standing right next to Dean, whispering in his ear. The rain started to die down as Dean kicked against nothing, scratched at hands that weren't around his neck.
"You really think a punk like you can do anything to hurt me?" Mr. McCann laughed. "Nothing can touch this, nothing in your wildest of dreams."
Dean screamed as something cut into his shoulder, four tiny knives ripping through his shirts into his skin. He can feel it ripping, feel the blood as it started to drip out of the wounds, all the while Mr. McCann laughed.
"Take another shot, Mr. Reporter Man," Mr. McCann called to John. "Let's see what you got, if you can get rid of me before I kill the boy."
"Let him go!" John yelled back, staying in his hidden position. "Let him go and we'll leave."
"I don't believe you, Johnny," the elderly farmer mocked. "I really don't."
Dean screamed again as those tiny invisible knives dug deeper. "Dad, make it stop," he cried, cried like a little kid. "Please, Dad, make him stop."
Not knowing what else to do, John lined up for another shot, but as he got ready to pull the trigger there was rush of wind from the west and a loud thump behind him as Mr. McCann vanished in front of his eyes.
"Dad!" Dean cried. "It hurts, Dad, help. Don't… don't let me die out here."
John turned to see Dean in ball on the ground. He stood, slipping on the slippery leaves as he hurried to his son bleeding on the ground.
"I won't," John promised picking Dean up, cradling him in his arms the best he could and trying to make his way back to the car. "I won't."
"Don't let me die without seeing Sammy," Dean said. "I promised him. I promised Sammy nothing would… nothing bad would happen. I promised."
His face was white, torso cover in blood.
"Shhh," John soothed as he rushed toward the car. "Just calm down, okay. I'll fix it."
"I'm sorry," Dean was gurgling. John was sure whatever Mr. McCann was had done internal damage to his son, but he wasn't going to watch the boy die.
"Don't be sorry, we're all most to the car," John soothed.
The wet ground was hard to maneuver on the way in, but with Dean's dead weight in his arms it was even harder. He went as fast as he could against the wind getting to the car as fast as he could. He was covered in Dean's blood when he placed the shivering pale shell into the back seat.
"I gotta," Dean whimpered fighting against unconsciousness. "You gotta tell Sam I'm sorry."
"You can tell him yourself, kiddo," John said cranking the ignition. "I'm taking you to the hospital. We're gonna get you good as new, then you can tell your brother yourself."
"Don't let me die," Dean pleaded. "I just walked out, I didn't even say goodbye, I just left and I didn't answer when he called and now he hates me and I gotta fix it."
"We'll fix it," John said. "Just close your eyes. We're going to the hospital. Just close your eyes, kiddo. It's okay, don't fight it, just go to sleep."
"Alright," Dean said, slowly letting unconsciousness take over.
When he woke up, plugged into to all different wires with monitors beeping around him, shoulder wrapped in blood spotted gauze, his dad standing over him with a worried look on his face, he started to cry. One of those silent cries that happen when you're just so happy to be alive. He'd gotten one more second chance to fix it. He was gonna to what he could to make sure he didn't let this one slip by.
An: I know this goes a little outside canon, but I really wanted to have Dean see the Yellow Eyed Demon, no necessarily know what the hell it was, but I wanted him to see that thing that killed his mom.