If you could only see -- chapter 8a/?
A/N: Wow, this was a serious case of writer’s-block/muse gone missing/show’s not making it easy to stay interested in the characters/maybe I should switch fandoms - kind of thing. Oh, and let’s not forget the part where my notebook died on me and I lost everything I have worked on in the past few months. For a few days I was thinking about finishing this story with this chapter or the next and moving on. I won’t, though, I just have to keep reminding myself why I fell in love with the show in the first place and that should do the trick… ;)
Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I’m REALLY sorry it has taken me so long for this, I’ll do better with the next chapter, I promise. Oh, and to everybody who reviewed the last chapter and didn’t get a reply from me please don’t be angry, I know a lot of review alerts got lost during the days my PC died. But I’ve read them all and, in the end, they were the things that kept me going.
This chapter, as all before, is dedicated to my Ghosty. She’s having a really bad time atm and I have no idea where she found the time to beta this and help me so much with the boys. I wouldn’t know what to do without her, she made sense of all this weird stuff they were throwing at me, so far this chapter has been the most confusing thing I have ever written and she made sense of it. I don’t know how she does that, every time I’m lost she is the one to get me back and keep me going. Thank you SO MUCH, hun. *hugs*
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John wakes up twice during the drive.
He’s moving slowly, trying to sit up, but he doesn’t seem to have enough energy left to complete the move. He mumbles something under his breath, but it’s so slurred Dean doesn’t quite catch it, the only thing that’s understandable is his brother’s nickname. He blinks at Dean, obviously too dizzy to focus properly, then sags back down against the seat, eyes sliding shut. Dean isn’t sure if his dad can still hear him, but he tells him that Sam is fine and safe. If John gets the message he doesn’t react, he’s out again only moments later.
It worries Dean. His Dad is a tough bastard, and he usually walks away from a hunt gone bad with barely a scratch. If he is injured at all it’s seldom bad enough to slow him down or incapacitate him for too long. Something really bad must have happened back there and Dean can’t stop thinking about how awful the dead body had looked, literally torn apart, limb by limb. He isn’t new to the gruesome scenes left after rough fights, but this… Neither his dad nor his brother could have done what was done to that vamp and that leaves the question of who-or what-could have. And why had it left both Sam and Dad untouched? Or, if not exactly untouched then at least alive and relatively whole, in more or less good shape, all legs and arms and heads still attached.
There are at least three different creatures that inhabit forests that would be able to tear a body apart like that, but none of them would have spared his dad and Sam. Not that he is complaining, hell no, he’ll take a concussed Dad and freaked-out Sam over the alternative any day, thanks.
And still, he’d feel a lot better if he knew what had happened.
It’s starting to get dark when they arrive at the motel and that helps a little with getting the still unresponsive body of his father inside. They have Dad on the bed before Bobby tells him Sam refused to leave the car. And that’s okay, really, because Dean knows he’ll use the solitude to change back. He can’t help Sam with the change and so he concentrates on what he can do, and that means looking after their father.
Bobby is making a phone call to some hunter he knows, getting backup for the nest while Dean removes his father’s coat and shoes and gets him as comfortable as it gets on the small bed. He works quietly on assessing his dad’s wounds, and he can’t hold back a wince at the bloody gash on John’s temple. It looks serious, it’s bleeding like nothing Dean’s ever seen before and when he cleans it, it seems to be so painful his father groans and tries to flinch away, even though he is deeply unconscious. All through the cleaning, John doesn’t wake up and that isn’t a good sign.
Other than the head wound, his father is suffering from two broken ribs on his left side. And there are a few already spectacularly colored bruises highlighting that, which cause John’s breath to hitch when Dean feels along them.
“How is he?”
Sam’s voice is soft and tired and Dean hasn’t even heard him approach. Dean can’t help the start, turning back to look behind him to the door.
Sam hasn’t come in; he is still outside, only half of him visible through the open door. His face is a mess, bloody streaks across it, most of them under his nose. It looks like he tried to wipe some of the blood off his face but wasn’t very successful. He’s not standing straight, more hunched over, one arm curled protectively around his chest. He is having trouble focusing, blinking repeatedly as he looks over at them. Sam is wearing one of the set of spare-clothes they keep in the cars for emergencies, a T-shirt, jeans, shoes. He looks completely beat to hell and then some and he’s leaning heavily against the door-frame for support.
Dean looks back at their father, shrugging. “Severe concussion, he hasn’t really been lucid, yet. He almost woke up a couple of times on his own, I’ll take that as a good sign. Broken ribs.” He turns back to the door, eyeing his brother critically. “What the hell happened out there?”
Sam’s eyes are focused on their dad and he doesn’t answer right away.
“Sam?”
“I don’t know…” Sam keeps his eyes on John, his voice low. “I don’t remember much, there was a man and he attacked Dad… I tried to stop him… I don’t know what happened then…” There’s pain in his voice and something else Dean can’t identify. “He kicked me, that’s the last thing I remember.”
Dean curses softly. “We need to know what happened, Bobby said the guy’s head was ripped off, how the hell did that happen?”
Sam’s eyes finally crawl over to him and this time he sees guilt shining in them. “I don’t know,” he mumbles softly and Dean frowns, looking him over carefully.
“Sam, are you okay?”
Sam blinks, stands up straighter, tries for casual and fails miserably. “I’m fine.”
Yeah, right.
“Sammy?”
Dean’s still turned toward the door and his brother, so the rough voice coming from behind him takes him completely by surprise. Their dad still has his eyes closed at first, but opens them slowly and blinks, squinting up first at the ceiling, then at Dean’s face. Dean can hear his brother move behind him, but his attention is locked on their dad.
“You okay?” John has still trouble to get the words out through a jaw clenched against obvious pain, most of them are barely understandable. Slurred speech, another sign for a concussion, not that Dean would need even more. Their dad moves his head slowly and squints at the door.
Sam doesn’t answer and when Dean turns to look at him he almost flinches back.
Sam looks pissed, his gaze is fixed on their dad’s face and his eyes are narrowed to slits. He’s still gripping the edges of the doorframe, but he’s no longer leaning against it for support, it looks as if the frame is the only thing that is keeping him from jumping on their father. His whole body is tense, shaking, but this is no longer exhaustion, it’s anger, he’s literally shaking with rage and Dean doesn’t have the slightest idea what the hell just happened to make him go from tired and beaten to ready to rip their dad’s head off. What’s really making his skin crawl, though, is the fact that Sam doesn’t make a sound, there’s no snarl, no growl, no bitching, no comeback, nothing.
For a moment nobody moves, it feels as if nobody is breathing, the tension in the air so thick you could cut it with a knife. And then Sam moves, steps away from the door and disappears around the corner, out of Dean’s line of sight.
What the hell?
He turns back to find his father blink at the door, brows drawn together in equal parts of pain and confusion, an expression Dean isn’t familiar with.
“Dad?”
John’s eyes crawl to him, then squeeze shut for a moment while their dad reaches up and presses the heel of his hand against his temple, groaning softly. He starts probing the area around the injury cautiously and Dean studies his shaky movements, flashing back to a time where John would order them to leave it alone if they were hurt. Finally, tired eyes meet his again and John gestures toward the door with his hand.
“What’s with him?”
Damned, if he knew… Dean shrugs, shifting slightly on the bed to make more room when John starts to sit up slowly. He shouldn’t be moving, not with the way his arms start shaking and he sways for a moment, but it’s no use telling him that so Dean keeps quiet and waits until John is leaning back against the headrest, taking deep breaths to calm what Dean believes to be an upset stomach. He hands him the washcloth for the still bleeding cut and gets off the bed.
“We found you unconscious and the vampire dead. Sam was guarding you-you told him to stay away from you, didn’t you? What happened?”
John takes a moment to remember, then speaks in a low voice, some of his words still slurred. “Vamp got the jump on me, ‘t was moving too fast-“ He breaks off and frowns, lost in thought, oblivious to Dean’s raised eyebrow. It’s not very often that his dad loses control of a situation and it’s even rarer that he’d admit to it. “Knocked me into a tree, Sam tried to distract it but it got him, kicked him in the side… I think he was thrown into a tree- did you check on him?“
Dean remembers the miserable wolf, the broken ribs, the limping and winces as he tries to imagine the force it would take to throw either of them. “He’s banged up, I think you’re both in for some serious observation tonight…”
Strangely enough, John doesn’t object to that, just nods and closes his eyes, and Dean’s stomach twists in worry. This isn’t like his dad at all, no glares, no grumbling. Damned, fucked up hunt.
“You know, keeping an eye on you would be a lot easier if you could actually share a room.”
John frowns at that and squints at him. “What?”
Dean arches an eyebrow, gesturing toward the door. “Sam. You told him to stay away from you. He can’t get inside the room.”
John gives him a blank look. “Why would I do that?”
It’s Dean’s turn to frown. “I don’t know, when we found you he was standing between you and the dead vamp. He couldn’t get near you, Bobby tested it. We couldn’t put you in the same car.”
John’s eyes narrow before they go distant. After a moment he shakes his head slowly. “I don’t remember that.”
“Kid was scared out of his mind.”
The familiar voice comes from the door, once again, Dean can’t help the start, then turns around and throws Bobby a glare.
“Scared?” John asks from behind him and Dean knows his father is no longer leaning back against the bed.
Singer enters the room, scanning John for a moment. “Whatever happened to you, he was scared of it, he was barely holding it together when we got there.”
Dean likes the guy, he really does, but right now he really just wants him to shut the hell up. This isn’t right, you don’t just walk into a room, telling their Dad-of all people- that Sam was scared on a hunt, that’s bad form and, not to mention, so not Bobby’s place to do that. Definitely a no go if he’s ever seen one.
And what the hell is Bobby talking about, anyway? Dean knows Sam, more than anyone, in any shape and form. And, yeah, Sam had been shaken by something, he’d seen that. But Sam seemed okay, now, more or less, and the hunt is over, and whatever had happened is over. No need at all to talk like that. He feels himself stiffen and he scowls at the older hunter. But Bobby doesn’t seem to care, he’s watching John who is still trying to sit up further.
“How’s the head?”
“Been better,” John admits quietly.
Dean expects the older hunter to make a joke about “hard heads” now, but Bobby changes the topic. “What do you think did that? To the vamp?”
John squints at him, then at Dean. “You said the head was ripped off?”
“Not only the head, arms and legs, too.”
John frowns, massages his temple for a moment. “Last time I saw him he was standing…”
There’s a pause and Dean decides to ask the question that has been bugging him ever since they’ve left the forest behind. “What if it was the thing that’s after Sam?”
John immediately tenses and sits up straighter, gaze snapping to the door, a worried frown creasing his brow for a moment, before he shakes his head. “If it was after him, why would it leave him alive?”
“Maybe Sam fought it off. “ Bobby turns to look at Dean. “Have you talked to him?”
“He was here before you came back, he can’t remember anything about the attack since after that SOB kicked him.”
“You said he has a concussion, too?”
Dean shrugs. “Would be my guess, but I’m not a vet…”
Neither John nor Bobby seem to be in the mood for jokes right now and Dean can read the glare his dad sends at him just fine. Go, check on him, now. He shrugs and leaves the room, stopping outside for a moment before he takes a deep breath and opens the next door down.
And stops.
part 8b