Chapter Fifteen

Two Weeks Later

The Winchesters didn't mention the night of Mary's death or the demon blood which now ran through their youngest member's veins again. In fact, John seemed as though he had said all he could and barely spoke to his sons even though they shared the same motel room.

Sam's nagging fever broke after three days of rest, good food and penicillin, all administered under the watchful eyes of his brother. The teen's stomach, which at first hadn't been able to handle the greasy take-out food John brought back to the room, eventually recuperated from its starvation diet and Sam graduated from milkshakes and soup to pizza, burgers, and Chinese, eating them as though they were they were his favourites.

The eighteen-year old's physical injuries began mending faster as well, now that his body was getting the much-needed nutrients required to mend it. Many of the blisters that had covered most of the teen's body were almost completely healed, leaving little trace that they had even existed. The cigarette burns, however, left round, pink scars on the young man's face, which Dean insisted were not noticeable but it was clear Sam didn't believe a word of it.

The twenty-two year old wasn't concerned as much about the physical scars left by Flint's torture as the psychological damage the man had caused. Dean had tried to talk to Sam about Stanford, tentatively, never suggesting that his sibling make any decisions at the moment but saying that instead the eighteen-year old could call the college, explain why he hadn't shown up in September and maybe register for the winter semester.

Sam however, had shaken his head, and told Dean that he didn't want to talk about school.

Dean wondered how much of Flint's amateur brainwashing skills had actually gotten through to his brother and how much was hinging on their father's revelation about the night of November 2nd, 1982. The twenty-two year old didn't press his sibling, knowing that Sam wasn't in the right frame of mind to be talking about any of this anyway and that once his younger brother had made up his mind about something, he stuck to it, no matter what anyone else said.

SPN

Dean watched with his hawk-like gaze as Sam sat at the edge of the bed, Styrofoam container balanced on his knees as he cut up a stack of pancakes with a plastic knife and fork.

Sam sat with his head lowered and shoulders hunched, not talking, concentrating only on sawing the pancakes into chunks that could easily be shoved into his mouth.

Tearing his gaze away from his brother, Dean stared across the room to his father who was sitting at the desk, eating his own breakfast. Dean knew his father was eager to leave the Main Street Motel and Gilchrist, Oregon altogether; Dean could see it in the way John raked his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair more often than usual, the way he tapped his feet on the carpeted floor or always offered to go on a food-run, even when it wasn't necessary. Dean also knew that his father wasn't going to be able to take sitting in the motel room for much longer. John was nearly at his breaking point.

Sighing, Dean stabbed a piece of fried egg with his own plastic fork and tucked the morsel into his mouth before speaking.

"What do you think about getting out of here, Sammy?"

He addressed his brother because he knew what John's answer would be.

The teen shrugged, still keeping his gaze on his pancakes.

"We don't even have to have a destination," Dean continued, "We'll just drive until we find a place we like the looks of and stop for the night."

"Whatever," was Sam's reply.

A clearing of the throat drew Dean's attention back to John and sat his father now looking pointedly at him.

"We should find a case," the eldest Winchester said, making the suggestion sounding not at all like a suggestion at all but an order.

Dean scowled, "And do what? Go hunting? Now?"

John matched his son's expression, "Why not? People are still out there dying, Dean, and its our job to save them."

The twenty-two year old tore his gaze away from his father and peered at his brother.

"You're not ready to hunt again," Dean said, not only because it was true that his brother was not well enough to hunt anything but because Sam did not want to hunt.

"We can't keep sitting around like this," John continued, "Not when there are innocent people in danger. I'm sorry."

Dean looked sharply at his father, "Sam's not ready yet."

"He can stay in the motel while we work, rest up until he's ready," the eldest Winchester suggested.

Dean stood up so quickly that his breakfast fell onto the carpeted floor but he ignored it, taking a step closer to his father.

"Sam doesn't want to hunt," he growled, "You know that! That's why he applied to college in the first place!"

John glared daggers at his eldest son, "I don't know what you expect me to say, Dean. We have to keep moving. We have a job to do. Don't you want to find the bastard who killed Mary and poisoned your brother?"

It was the first time John had mentioned that fateful November night since revealing his reason for not wanting Sam to attend Stanford University.

Dean flinched as though his father had hit him and sat back down beside his brother. John, asshole that he may be, was right. He did want to find the monster that had torn their family apart and hurt his baby brother.

But his concern for his eighteen-year old sibling eclipsed his desire for revenge.

Sam was now looking up from his pancakes, a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face; from the mention of the demon or the fact that John wanted to go hunting, Dean didn't know.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Sammy," the twenty-two year old assured him, "Dad can't make you do anything."

The teen nodded tearfully.

Turning his attention back to his father, Dean spoke up, "Fine, Dad. Go find us a hunt. Sam and I will follow and meet you once he's a hundred percent."

John looked shocked and a little hurt that Dean hadn't agreed right away to follow him into battle.

"There's only one car-" John began, the question in his voice as to who was going to take the Impala.

"There's a dealership just down the street," Dean reminded his father, thinking of the large black truck he'd seen as they passed the lot full of new and used cars on the way into town, "Maybe you'll find something there you'll like."

The father looked incensed that his son was telling him to leave the Impala- his Impala- and buy himself a new mode of transportation.

"You're not serious," John asked but Dean didn't even blink.

"I need you to help me with hunts!" the eldest Winchester exclaimed.

"Sam needs my help more than you do, Dad," Dean reply as calmly as he could.

John gaped, open-mouthed at his eldest son. Rarely had Dean ever spoken back to him. The only time they ever came close to a fight was when it had to do with Sam.

Grinding his teeth with anger, the hunter stood and grabbed his duffel bag from where it sat at the end of his bed.

"I guess I'll see you when I see you," he growled, his eyes dark and shiny, his lips pursed.

Dean merely nodded, not giving John the satisfaction of answering.

The twenty-two year old didn't even react when the motel room door slammed shut. Instead, he sighed as Sam leaned his full weight against him.

"Dad's mad," the teen muttered.

"Yeah," Dean replied, "Well, let him be. You're more important than some stupid hunt."

The brothers were quiet for a long moment before the eldest spoke again.

"You know," he began, "Once we catch up to Dad, you don't have to hunt. If Dad tries to make you I'll sock him."

"Thanks Dean," Sam whispered, "For everything."

The young man felt tears prickle his eyes and he wrapped his arms around his brother, hugging him as tightly as he could.

"That's what I'm here for, Sammy. To protect you from everything, even if it's from Dad too."

Author's Note:

Special thanks to Jenjoremy for helping with this chapter.

Thanks to ktdog1, StyxxsOmega, reannablue, whatnosheep, Kas3y, SamDeanLover28, BranchSuper, teresaposey37, jensensgirl3, SPN Mum, babyreaper, Trucklady53, Sad-Blue-Eyed-Angel 2010, and angel1718 for reviewing.

Thank you for sharing in this fanfic with me. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Stay tuned for updates of my Works-In-Progress and new stories coming soon.

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