Father and Sons
A Wee!Chester story
Disclaimer: Hmm okay I could say that things could change after this coming weekend but ... Nope still not mine to keep, just to play with and then send home again.
Chapter Four: Nothing like a family reunion too...
Then: 'Dean!' John cried out watching his eldest son's face go from a mottled deep red, to white to tinged with blue. 'Oh God Dean ... Bobby he's stopped breathing.'
A distraught father sat in silent disbelief, his eldest son laid limp in his arms, he couldn't look down at the lax face he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge that he had failed, failed both of his sons.
A soft, stuttering breath went unnoticed at first, he was so lost in the fact that he had failed both of his children, the distraught father didn't feel the slight movement or the breathes coming out slowly, shallowly and hesitantly.
'John, John look at Dean.' Bobby cried urgently trying to get through the wall of grief, 'dammit Johnny look at yer kid he's breathing!' Bobby wanted to get up and clip the idiot over the head to knock some sense into him but he stayed still holding the precious little bundle entrusted to him. 'Damn it John don't make me have to get up and disturb Sammy.'
'What Bobby?' John all but snarled at his friend, 'I've killed my son, no my sons coz Sammy ...'
'You freaking idgit look at Dean.'
John glared at Bobby for a few seconds and then finally allowed himself the chance to glance down at the now peaceful look on his sons face. Only when he looked down there was no peace on Dean's face, only a scowl, pinched pain lines around the eyes and trembling lips. 'Dean?'
'Now ya see you freaking stubborn idgit, look at him he's breathing ... he aint dead John.'
'Oh Gods ... Dean son can you hear me?' John ran a shaking hand over Dean's face, 'he's breathing Bobby.'
'No kiddin.' Bobby shook his head and glanced down at his own charge, 'you hear that Sammy, you gotta hang in there coz yer brother is.'
'Dad?' Dean squeezed his eyes and tried to open them a little, 'daddy?'
'I'm here champ.' John helped Dean to sit up a little bit more until he was resting his head on his father's broad chest, 'right here.'
'Dad it's the bed ... cursed.' Dean whispered, 'thirsty.'
John picked up a bottle of lukewarm water and held it to his son's lips, 'here just little sips Dean.'
'Thanks.' Dean sighed and sank back against his father relishing the strength emanating from the man. 'Jonas told me bout the bed.'
'Who's Jonas?' John frowned his confusion evident on his weather-beaten face, 'what are you talking about Dean?'
'I – I saw ... dunno Jonas was um in my head. He, he told me bout the bed ... his daddy says that he's taint-tainted yeah that's the word.'
'Damn, what else Dean?' John asked ignoring the warning glare from Bobby, he knew that he was pushing Dean too hard but they were running out of time.
Hesitantly Dean relayed what the ghost child had told him, how his father had chained him to the mattress and broke his legs to keep him there. How he was born on the family bed, a special bed his granny said, and how his mom died having him and how his brother died sleeping next to him on the same bed. 'Dad, Jonas was only eight years old, and yet his old man said that he was tain-tainted, that, that he had bad in 'im.' Dean turned around to look up at his father, his large green eyes shining with unshed tears, his cheeks flushed with the still evident fever. 'he said the bed takes what it wants and makes em wood just like the bed.'
'Bobby ... the journal what does the journal say?' John's eyes took on an unnatural sheen as he let the excitement of the hunt overwhelm him, it was no longer a matter of something or someone attacking his boys, this was a bone-fide hunt.
'Calm down John,' Bobby shook his head and took in all of the familiar signs of John's obsession, 'let's put the boys down on the couch and talk over there.'
Gently they laid the brothers side-by-side on the couch and watched as Dean instinctively curled around his baby brother, before John covered them with a blanket.
The two hunters spent the rest of the night watching over the boys, the corpse of the other child while they poured over the journal. By the look of it, Jonas' Grandmother was a witch from a long line, the bed seemingly older than the country itself, held the family spirit in the wood, when each witch died they were laid to rest on the enchanted bed, while it absorbed their power. Over the centuries, the power became corrupt, surrounded by violence and hatred. The women of the family often made poor choices or were forced into marriages with violent men. Two of the earlier witches were murdered by husbands, their spirits unavenged merged with their ancestors in the wood of the bed, adding another symbol to the already powerful existing ones. Until Jonas' grandmother, who loved her grandsons more than life itself, with Michael first and then three years later Jonas arrived. His mother weak from the beating that had brought on the premature birth died as she held her tiny son to her breast. Her spirit welcomed by her ancestors slipped into the framework, a tiny star shaped symbol appeared above the baby's head.
His father beyond grief and guilt refused to acknowledge his youngest son, only their granny's love managed to make life bearable for the last of the family. When Michael at the age of eleven stepped in between his father and brother and took the blow that would have killed the younger more fragile Jonas, that night he passed away sleeping next to his brother beneath their mother's star.
In a fit of grief their father dragged Jonas to the attic, broke his legs after beating him near to death and chained him to the filthy mattress, declaring his hatred and disgust at the tiny eight year old.
Jonas' grandmother found the child's body the next day, the last entry into her journal as she cursed the father, to roam forever in this house never to be free until the bed decides to absorb him piece by piece. She died later that day lying on the bed, her hands crossed over her breast in perfect repose.
Bobby looked up at John and then over at Dean and Sam, 'those poor boys.' Bobby shook his head unable to believe the cruelty of humans.
'What do we do Bobby? How do we break this? We can't let them have Sammy, no matter how horrific their deaths...' John felt the tears scalding the backs of his eyes but he was not going to let his emotions rule, he swallowed them down clamping on them and replacing them with high enough walls to barricade them with. 'We can't ... Dean, that's one thing I can't work out, the ghost wanting Sammy's body yeah I guess but Dean, why make him so sick?'
'That I dunno but it's all linked to that bed ... John ... Johnny you alright?' Bobby stared at his friend in horror as his skin seemingly hardened in front of him, 'John?'
'Huh? Oh yeah I'm here Bobby, but not much ... ah shit.'
'The bed, if we're right and it is a cumulation of all of the spirits of the witches then ... would they mistake me for the father?'
'Two boys ... around the same ages as the last two and a single father and let's face it Johnny boy you've got a bit of a fast temper.'
'Oh very funny Singer, and I'm a hunter ... I've hunted witches.'
'Yeah so have I...' Bobby mused, 'damn me.'
'Dean he's around the same age as the older brother Michael?'
'And he's the protector of Sammy let's face it John ... Dean takes his job pretty darn seriously.'
'Yeah true, ahh shit.' John unconsciously rubbed the back of his neck, 'damn it.'
'Calm down John you aint doin' yerself or yer boys any good by getting' all worked up.'
'Yeah you're right and well you don't look like any work of art either at the moment old man.'
'Nuff of the old man.' Bobby groused, 'it's all to do with that bed aint it.'
'Yeah ... what the?' John turned around to look at the boys and saw the spectre of a woman standing over them apparently weeping. 'Who the hell are you?'
The woman looked up at the two men, she shimmered slightly and then disappeared before reappearing in the same spot, and she glanced down at the boys and then lifted her eyes upwards.
'John?' Bobby caught a glimpse of his friend moving slowly towards the woman, 'hey ya idgit git back here.'
'She's not going to hurt the boys Bobby.' John said his voice sounding soft and distant, 'she's the grandmother.'
'Owkay and just how do yer know that?' Bobby stared from the shimmering image to his friend and then let his gaze fall on the boys, something just didn't add up.
Shaking his head and wincing with the movement Bobby picked up his salt-gun and took aim when the temperature in the room dropped dramatically. 'Shit, Johnny git to yer kids.' He yelled as he shot taking aim at the spectre of the man lunging towards the boys.
'Daddy.' Dean screamed his eyes wide open as he stared at the man as he reappeared above them. Bobby swore and aimed again, 'we need to git the boys upstairs.'
The man appeared on the stairs baring their way to the bedroom and the bed. 'Aint takin' that spawn of evil anywhere.' The disembodied voice screeched, and then the man appeared again hovering over Sammy. 'Sammy no.' Dean cried and weakly pushed himself over both the body of Jonas and the wooden body of Sammy. He screamed in pain as the ghost wrapped its translucent hands around his small throat.
'Get off my son.' John bellowed and threw the last of his salt at the spirit, giving him enough time to grab Dean with one arm and the frightingly stiff body of Sammy.
Bobby picked up Jonas' body and led the way blasting the man with his gun when he blocked the stairs again.
'Spawn of Satan.' The voice screeched again and suddenly invisible hands tried to grab the body from Bobby's hands. 'Must die.'
'Get off.' Bobby snarled as he fought to maintain his hold on the young boy holding Sam's spirit. With the last blast of salt, the man disappeared and they finally burst into the bedroom.
The woman appeared next to the bed, tears like transparent diamonds tracked down her face as she indicated for him to place the boys side-by-side on the bed. Reverently Bobby laid Jonas down first, and then took Dean while John stiffly placed Sam on the bed next to Jonas. The two tiny boys seemingly swallowed into the depths of the large bed. A warmth filled the room as other spirits appeared around the bed, men and women of various ages and builds stood in solemn reverence to the two small children.
Dean moaned and started to struggle in Bobby's arms he wanted to be with his brother so badly, the woman held her hands out and indicated for him to lie next to Sam. As soon as Bobby laid Dean on the bed, the older boy immediately moved between Jonas and Sammy, he pushed his arms under the small forms and cradled them protectively against him. 'No more hurts.' He croaked out.
'I'm losing them Bobby, I'm losing my boys.' John broke down, his stiff body betraying him as he tried to lean over to embrace them.
'No!' The scream pierced the air and the spirit of the man appeared coming from the wall, his face and arms solidifying into wood matching the walls, 'they die.'
John straightened himself and moved to stand between the bed and the wooden man, the crazed look carved into the oaken face was one of sheer malice. There was an audible crack as the man launched himself at John, their hardening bodies smashing together and then rolled away from the bed.
'Damn it,' Bobby had no idea on what to do he stared at the grandmother's ghost and implored her to help them. 'Ya gotta save the boys please ... they're only kids.'
Two more spirits appeared at the foot of the bed, a beautiful young woman with long hair trailing down her back and large soulful eyes, standing next to her a young boy of eleven with the same eyes but a large ugly mark covered the left of his face, evidence of his violent death. 'Jonas.' He called out softly, 'time to come home.'
Sammy's wooden body rose and sat staring blankly at the apparitions at the foot of the bed, 'Mommy?' the voice came from the frozen lips, 'Mommy?'
'I'm here baby but you have to leave the little boy...'
'Feels so good Mommy.'
A loud crash and curse broke the reunion and swinging around with the shotgun as a bat Bobby managed to dispel the wooden ghost long enough for him to run to John, quickly he checked for a pulse and let go of his breath even though he hadn't realised he was holding it. 'Look as lovely as this all is, we have to ... damn it I aint talking to no ghosts.'
'It's alright,' the grandmother said stroking the side of Bobby's face soothingly, 'it's all going to be alright.'
Bobby immediately felt at peace, as unnerving as it was he felt peaceful. With a small sigh he sat down on the chair and relaxed, watching the events unfold before him as though he was watching through curtains.
'Time to come home with us Squirt.' Michael held his hand out to his brother, 'Sammy needs his brother Dean and I need you Jonas.'
'Mikey?' Jonas cried and large tears rolled out of the fixed eyes and down the cheeks softening them as they trickled away. 'Mikey? Mommy?'
'We need you, it's time to come home Jonas.'
Sammy's head turned and stared down at the limp body on the other side of Dean, 'don' wanna hurt no more.'
'You won't Jonas, you'll be with your Mom.' Dean said tightening his grip on both little ones, 'but we need Sammy with us.'
'Yer daddy hurts him.'
'No, no he doesn't hurt us.'
'My daddy did.'
'I know but now you're free Jonas and you can go with your mom and brother now.'
'Can you put me next to him?' Sammy/Jonas asked Dean, 'I didn't mean to hurts him, just felt so good ...'
'It's okay Jonas you're always gonna feel good now.' Dean said as he moved slightly placing the frail body of Jonas in between them, 'yer daddy can't hurt you no more.'
Jonas nodded stiffly and then laid down, 'I wanna go home.' He whispered as a wind suddenly whipped around the room. A loud humming sound drowned out the howling wind and a bright light engulfed the bed, blinding all of those not on it.
Minutes passed before the light dissipated and the wind eased, even more minutes passed before movement started, first with John on the floor and then Bobby started to stir on the chair.
'John?' Bobby shook his head, winced and cursed under his breath with a painful reminder of the lump on the back of his head. 'You alive down there?'
'Yeah, yeah I think so.' John muttered, 'damn feel like I've been run over by a truck.' Slowly he managed to get to his knees, swaying he felt like he was going to hurl, but swallowed down on the rising bile, later he'll have time later for all of that. 'The boys.'
Staggering the two hunters made their way to the ornate four-poster bed, in the middle of the large bed, they found Sammy and Dean lying curled up with each other.
'They-they're alive.' John wept, 'ah hell, they're alive Bobby.'
'We gotta git going John, that freak is still here.' Bobby warned John, 'I'll git Dean.'
'Huh? Oh yeah.' John picked up Sammy and for the first time in a long time noticed just how small and fragile his baby really is.
'You aint taking the evil spawn anywhere.' The man bellowed as he stepped from the wall this time his entire body was made of the oak panels.
'Here John git yer sons outta here.' Bobby thrust Dean into John's arms and pushed the young father out of the room, 'I'll be right behind ya.'
As soon as John was out of the room, Bobby grinned mirthlessly and pulled out his silver lighter, 'me lucky lighter.' He muttered as he lit the edge of a piece of paper and waved it in front of the apparition made of wood. 'So yer part of the house huh?'
John cradled his two boys to his chest and stood just outside the house, he felt as though his heart was going to burst out of his chest while he waited for Bobby to appear, neither of the boys woke but both were breathing and for that John was grateful.
Tendrils of smoke started to slither around the house, and the crackling of burning timber filled the night air, 'dammit Bobby where are ya?'
'Right here.' Bobby said as he hurried through the front door, 'time to bolt.'
'Ya got that right.' John grinned and hurried to the impala, 'we'll follow ya.'
The silvery slivers of the early morning broke over the horizon mixing with pinks, mauves and puffs of white cloud. The sunrise kissing the earth in welcome of a new day.
Two little boys slept fitfully in the back of the sleek black car as it sped along the highway following the beaten-up looking truck in front of them.
A week later:
John and Bobby sat by the fire drum at the back of Bobby's house, the remnants of their bbq now prey for his dogs. The two boys sat quietly on a rug playing with their cars, their legs brushed against each other and they spoke in hushed tones only they could hear and understand.
'I'm worried bout them Bobby.' John finally admitted taking a sip of his beer and watched the boys play. 'I never wanted them to be ... Sammy's so little.'
'Have you talked to them bout what happened?'
'Ah yeah, Sammy thinks it was just a nightmare while he was sick.' John took another drink and drained the bottle, 'he ah thinks that they both got bad bugs that had em in bed for a few days.'
'What about Dean?'
'He remembers bits, but not much ... they're just so quiet Bobby, it's not natural.'
'Whatcha gonna do about it?'
'Thinking bout takin' them to Pastor Jim's ... letting them stay there with him.'
'Don't you dare you dumb idgit.' Bobby growled as he fought to keep his voice low enough not for the boys to hear him.
'Bobby I ... what else can I do?'
'Be a father to them. Damn it man didn't you learn anything from what happened in that house?'
'I can't stop hunting Bobby, I gotta find Mary's killer.'
'Yeah and you gotta be father to those two boys ... damn it John give em time, they'll git over this but if you dump em at Jim's and ... they'll never get over you abandoning them.'
'I aint gonna abandon them Bobby, I'll still visit.'
'You do that John Winchester and yer'll never be welcome here agin.' Bobby hissed, 'I'm telling yer straight, the worse thing you can do is walk away from them.'
'No listen and listen good John, you walk out on those boys now, keep walking the last thing they need is a casual daddy, you either do it properly or don't do it at all. Sammy and Dean went through hell in that house and ya want to just ... what walk away from them? How's that gonna help em? How's that gonna help em heal?'
'What do I do Bobby? Tell me what do I do?' John kept his gaze fixed on his sons playing happily together, 'what do I do?'
'Love em, be there for em, take some time for them ... let em heal Johnny. My God man you nearly lost both of them just a week ago, think about it.'
'Bobby ... we can't take advantage of you.'
'Am I askin' ya to?' Bobby shoved a fresh bottle of beer into John's hand and sat back to watch the boys playing, 'give em a couple more weeks here, let Dean get completely better and let Sam, let Sam let his nightmares settle that's all. Anyway I can do with a hand around here since I went to save yer ass yet agin.'
'Yeah right Singer ... I'll remember that next time I save yours.' John grinned and settled back relaxing slightly. 'Yeah okay for now.'
'That's all I ask.' Bobby said, 'ya danged idgit.'
'Deanie?' Sammy cocked his head to one side and stared at his brother thoughtfully, they were alone in their bedroom and supposedly going to sleep.
'Yeah what's up Sammy?'
'Can I s-sleep wif you?'
'Yeah sure short stuff, what's wrong?'
'Nuffin.' Sammy whispered as he climbed out of his bed and hurried over to Dean's scampering up and under the covers before Dean changed his mind.
'Sammy what's wrong?' Dean felt the fine tremors running through Sammy's thin arms, 'you're shivering dude.'
'Don't like the wood boy no more.'
'What wood boy?'
'He wants to play wif me, but I don' wanna.' Sammy curled up against Dean's side and rested his head on his brother's shoulder. 'Don't like him no more.'
'Where's the wood boy?' Dean asked wrapping his arm around his little brother, 'want me to beat him up for ya?'
'Nah it's okkies, just don' wanna play wif him no more.' Sammy sighed and was soon sleeping soundly, with one little fist twisted tightly in the hem of Dean's pyjama top, the thumb of his other hand fixed firmly in his mouth. Dean laid there for a while listening to Sammy sleep and thinking of what his brother had told him, the wood boy wanted to play with Sammy. Yawning widely until his jaw cracked, Dean wrapped both arms around Sammy's shoulders and rested his cheek on the soft chestnut curls and breathed in the scent of his little brother. He decided to talk to his dad about the wood boy tomorrow but for now, his brother was safe and happy tucked up in bed with him, their dad and uncle Bobby were just down the hall and they were safer now than in a long time. Tiredly he brushed a tiny kiss on Sammy's head and let himself drift off to sleep, determined to protect his brother forever.