Welp...

Ironically midterms for this semester are next week. So *technically* I kept with the midterm stress release theme (and it hasn't been a FULL year since my last update...)

In reality, I received an absolutely amazing review on ff that made me want to write again (listen if you give me a multi paragraph comment that focuses on the story... I can guarantee that I will at least open the document.) I wrote this write after I received the comment but due to a VERY chaotic semester I was just now able to edit it.

I'ma be real I don't completely remember how I was going to get to the ending. I remember the skeleton of what was supposed to happen but not individual scenes... so... you're getting this. I don't think it was my original plan but I like it and it gets me to the same overall point.

I'll let you get to the story and ramble some more at the end lol.

Please enjoy!

~TH~

Dean blinked awake. Something felt wrong. His head was fuzzy and his entire body ached. A hand went to soothe his pounding head but found it immobilized. With a jolt, it all came back to him. He slowly pulled his head up, experimentally pulling on the ropes that bound his hands. There was no give. In fact there was very little feeling in his hands at all. "So he's awake." Jamison smiled.

Dean grinned back. "You'll excuse me, I had to get caught up on my beauty sleep. Haven't been sleeping well." In reality Dean could feel the fogginess only a head wound brought on.

"Well, I'm glad you're awake. There's much discussing to do. "Jamison smiled a toothy grin. Dean had always been afraid of the large man. Oh he'd never admit it. But he knew what Jamison was capable of. And even worse he knew that the man could be unpredictable. He'd kill without a second thought. On a whim. For fun.

"Such as, what was your reasoning for killing Pastor Jim." The man leaned into his prisoner's face. "If you were just going to turn us over to your doctor friend, what's the point?"

Dean felt a small sense of relief. Sure he'd been compromised and would probably die in this oversized industrial building, but at least his cover was secure. At least they still thought Jim was dead.

Dean shrugged as best he could, trying to remain nonchalant. As if he didn't feel like he was dying and didn't half wish for them to just get it over with. "Jim betrayed me. And I still want my father's head with a shiny new bullet hole."

Jamison frowned "So what's your strategy? You wanted to set the thing up for yourself? You want to be the new Guardian or something?"

That was the last thing Dean would ever want. He would never be good enough to fill that position. There was something special about Jim, something deeply good. Something that let you know, even when you hated his guts and felt like he had hurt you, that he was still full of light and good. Dean could never be that.

But Dean also had no clue what angle to take. Nothing he said would make sense. Maybe he could say he was trying to draw in the Scholar? Or maybe he should just go with a round about truth…

"Fine. I admit it. Caleb's my weak spot. Always has been. I needed to see if he was okay. The Scholar answered instead. He's… ticked." Which ironically, he didn't seem to be. Dean didn't know why. If anyone had done to Sam what Dean did to Caleb… no valid reason could have been given.

"And how is Reaves?"

"He didn't say. But his response to my call clued me in that our message had been received."

"Very interesting." The voice of Hollis sent a shiver down Dean's spine. He came out from behind some metal bracing that must have once held paper. In another situation Dean would have found the entrance cool. Like some Bond movie. "I'm sure having a mutual weak spot has been more detrimental than helpful. Such as now. We can't let you run back to him every time you're scared."

"I'm not running back to him. I just needed to make sure he was still alive."

"You know the goal Deuce. We're trying to wipe out the Brotherhood. He's part of it."

Dean didn't answer. He didn't know how to refute that. The pounding in his head was not conducive to scheming.

"And it doesn't explain why you broke your phone. Unless…"

A sick knott formed in Dean's stomach. If they figured it out, he was dead and this was all for nothing.

"You have all the phone numbers, don't you. All we'd have to do is redial and we'd have contact with your precious Damien. You don't want that."

Yeah. Sure. He could run with that. "Just leave him out of it, okay?"

"How many exceptions do you have, kid? Don't touch the brother, don't touch the friend, who's next?"

"You're forgetting that without me, the guardian would still be alive." Dean held his breath, hoping that he'd accomplished his ultimate goal. Keeping Jim dead.

Hollis seemed contemplative for a moment. Then, he slowly came closer, Jamison moved out of the way to go stand with his thugs. Dean maintained eye contact, refusing to cower. He'd come to far to show fear now.

"I admit you're still useful. I don't know how it is in the inner circle, but here there are consequences to actions. You don't do us one favor and get a free ride after that."

Dean glared him down, refusing to open his mouth and make things worse, but relieved that they still found him useful.

Without warning a knife was produced that slashed across dean's chest, tearing open the shirt and breaking skin. He hissed, instinctively trying to pull away.

"I can match every stripe your daddy ever put on you."

Dean grit his teeth against the pain. "I guess you- don't disagree with his parenting style- as much as I thought."

Hollis let out a tisk, wagging the knife in front of Dean's face. "Oh this isn't parenting, Ace. This is punishment. We won't kill you. Not yet. But loyalty means something here. You broke it." The knife moved towards Dean's leg, but instead of penetrating flesh, it was merely wiped across his jeans. "But, I've decided to let you stay. We'll see if you can prove yourself. I might even make something of you someday. Something the Brotherhood will fear."

Dean didn't remove his eyes from Hollis as the man turned, walking back towards one of the metal braces before leaning against it dispassionately. From his peripheral he could see Jamison and the thugs advance toward him.

Face neutral. Breathing calm. Make them work for a reaction.

The first hit was to the ribs, followed swiftly by a knock to the face.

It continued on from there. Dean couldn't keep track of every blow. A knife might have been used at some point but it was clear that it was all concentrated. Methodical. Meant for pain not for death.

If nothing else Hollis was a man of his word.

The blows stopped unexpectedly. Dean wondered if he had lost consciousness for a moment. He blinked, trying to get his vision to stop cutting out. Something had changed. Even without complete awareness he could feel the shift in the air.

The high pitched ringing in his ears was replaced by loud shouts.

A spark of hope ignited. Had the cavalry arrived early?

That would be a miracle but appreciated.

Dean blinked again, still trying to draw the commotion into focus.

Finally, the world settled down enough for him to see.

And any hope fled, replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread that nearly sent him over the edge of consciousness.

It was his dad.

The mighty Knight, John WInchester.

And he was not happy.

The first thug was dead at Dean's feat.

The other one had made it a few yards back before succumbing to his own bullet. Possibly several.

Jamison was locked in hand to hand combat.

The Knight slipped his hand away long enough to fire three shots directly into the man's stomach.

That left Hollis.

Dean watched through bleary eyes as John turned towards the man. Whether or not the face of his enemy registered was irrelevant, as the Knight's gaze was immediately drawn to the silver ring that marked Hollis as one of the Brotherhood.

"You can't kill me!" All of Hollis's confidence melted away, sounding like a little kid putting on a brave facade. "I'm a brother!"

"You're not a Brother, you're a Judas."

"Doesn't matter! It's law."

John took a step forward, Hollis taking an automatic step back. "Murphy's dead. You really thought that the law would protect you? After you killed the Guardian!?"

"I didn't kill him, your boy over there did!" John followed the finger leading to his son. The world seemed to slow to a stop as Dean locked eyes with his father. He could barely hear Hollis's continued expectations. Nothing else mattered when he could feel the very ire and disappointment of his father coursing through him. "Maybe learn to keep your kids in line, oh great Knight! Maybe if you spent more time nurturing your kids instead of pledging your life to your precious Brotherhood this never would have happened!"

This had always been a possibility. Discussed in detail along with every other contingency. But they had hoped that John would check his facts first. That he wouldn't even hear about it.

He'd ignored every other attempt at communication, why not this time too?

But of course not.

Dean should know by now that his luck never held up.

It was clear what John thought. He believed that Dean had killed Jim. He believed it and would act on that information.

It was almost as if this reminder urged the Knight on. Any sense of brotherhood forgotten at the reminder of his friend's death. A knife came from somewhere Dean couldn't see and slid easily across Hollis's throat.

Hollis fell like a marionette puppet that had had it's strings cut. A thud as his knees hit first, follow by his torso and head. The sound did not block out the horrific gurgling noise that said his death would not be a quick one.

John kneeled, starting into the man's glassy eyes as he ripped the ring from his finger, shoving the sacred metal into his pocket.

Then he stood. It was slow. Final.

He turned, bringing his full attention onto his son.

Dean didn't say a word.

He couldn't say he'd never been afraid of his father. He had been. Many times throughout his childhood. Much of what he told Jamison was an exaggeration, but there was some truth mixed in. Some resentment that Dean tried so hard to push away. Afterall, nothing was more convincing than a lie mixed with truth. Jim had forced him to bring all those feelings to the forefront of his mind.

He'd asked for a vacation and received a mission.

And if that didn't boil the Brotherhood down to its most basic parts.

"Why." Was the first and only word John spoke. His eyes seemed to burn with hatred.

Dean worked his jaw but couldn't seem to make a sound. His Dad had looked at him in different ways of the years. There had been anger. Disappointment. Even love on occasion. But this burning anger… it was reserved for monsters. For things hunted.

Not for his son.

He should defend himself. Tell his dad to call Jim. Explain what had happened. Tell him that all was well. This was a plan. They could all laugh about this in the morning.

But he couldn't.

Dean suddenly knew that he didn't want to live with the memory of that look pointed towards him. If he did live things would never be the same.

And he was tired.

He was so tired.

A gun was raised, pointed directly between Dean's eyes.

He stared past it, keeping his eyes locked on his Father's.

Dean was surprised to find that he wasn't as afraid as he thought he would be. As he should be.

He almost felt relieved.

Like it would all be over soon.

Like maybe he did kinda deserve it.

Afterall Sam was gone.

And Caleb would never speak to him again.

And Mac probably hated him.

And Jim would know that he had failed.

And the look of hatred on John's face…

His own father was looking at him down the barrel of a gun and didn't even consider what might have happened. There was no consideration of why Dean was tied up. Or how roughed up he was. No long hope or consideration that things might not be as they seem. Just hatred. And determination. And maybe, maybe, a little bit of grief.

Dean should just accept it, it was clear that his father had.

No afterlife could be worse than the current Hell he lived in anyway.

John clenched his jaw.

"I always knew that…" he trailed off, tightening his grip on the gun. "But I never thought it would be you."

Dean didn't understand exactly what his dad was trying to say. Maybe it was important. But Dean's head was't exactly working right at the moment. The vision in his left eye kept cutting out and the loud ringing was beginning to overtake even the pounding of his heart. He could barely hear the words anyway. They probably weren't important. He'd be dead soon.

John took his other hand, steadying the gun. Dean couldn't remember ever seeing his dad shaking this bad during a hunt. Or maybe it was Dean who was shaking.

He thought he might have heard his dad say something. But he couldn't imagine any situation where his dad would utter "I'm sorry", especially in relation to him.

For a moment the ringing abated, replaced with the loud sound of a bullet discharging.

The world seemed to slow, almost as if he could see the bullet inching towards him.

In a way it was beautiful.

Dean didn't feel anything.

Apathy being his final state.

A flash of silver.

Everything went black.

~SPN~

Air seemed to be trapped in his lungs as he jerked awake. His arm went out nearly taking out his dad with a swing.

"Caleb! Caleb, wake up!"

The memory? Dream? Vision? Was already fading. Caleb was out of bed reaching for a shirt. Pushing aside his father in an attempt to reorient himself.

"Caleb?" Jim this time, leaning against the doorway."

He didn't stop as he answered, not willing to waste a single second. "We need to go. We need to go now. Dean's in trouble."

~TH~

*Cue evil laughter*

That was SO MUCH FUN to write.

I hope you're thoroughly angered and intrigued.

Is it a cop out? Yes.

Do I care? No.

I wanted to write it and so I did lol.

Back to personal things real quick. This year has been one of those years that fanfic authors talk about in their authors notes. Like yeah I feel. I've written some but not NEAR as much as I would have liked.

I have a mostly written Star Trek story and a Family Ties fic that just needs edited but I haven't even had time for THAT!

Theoretically my life should calm down now but I am making no promises. But this was fun to write and hopefully comments will propel me forward once again lol.

Back to the fic...

SO what did you think? Please tell me your thoughts!

Again, I've forgotten what I wanted to happen so if You have any ideas feel free to share them! Idk that I will work them in but you never know!

How much has happened and how much will?

Or was it really just a really bad dream and not a vision?

How will everyone react?

How did YOU react?

Thank you so much for reading!

Please restore my will to write (and live) with comments :)

Much love and God bless,

Jamie