Title: Worst Nightmare
Rating: K for blood and definite swearing…these are the Winchesters we're talking about!
Summary: John lives his worst nightmare when Sam is badly injured. MegaLimp!Sam, Angst!Dean, Angst!John…Sam is 18, Dean is 22.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but I wish I did, does that count? haha
Author Note: Please note that I picture a werewolf as being an actual oversized wolf, and not like the ones in "Heart", so thats how the one in this story is described! Sam is 18, Dean is 22- Sam didn't go to Stanford…this is definitely AU…enjoy! This is for all you SFTCOL(AR)S members…pimp the limp!
Worst Nightmare
John looked at his boys critically, both of them looking back with serious looks on their faces.
Sam (much to Dean's annoyance) stood taller then his brother, his moss green eyes looking straight into his fathers own brown ones. Dean had his arms crossed, standing so close to his younger brother that they were practically touching.
It was freezing outside, the mild autumn weather succumbing to the harshness of the winter season fast. The fallen leaves crunched under John's feet as he handed each of his sons their weapons. "Alright boys, this werewolf usually hunts around this area, you know the plan- we stick together. A silver bullet to the heart will kill this sucker. You ready?"
Sam averted his eyes, but nodded silently.
John frowned at his eighteen year old son and spoke firmly, but quietly, "Listen Sam, I need your head in this hunt alright? Dean and I need to know that you have our backs." His son hadn't been the same person since he had made his decision to keep hunting instead of going off to Stanford. John knew that Sam probably resented him for making that awful ultimatum, but it had been for the best.
John could protect his youngest as long as he was with him; he could only hope that Sam would eventually see his reasoning when some of the bitterness had faded away…if it ever went away.
Sam didn't respond to his father right away; only answering when he felt Dean gently nudge his foot. "Yes sir." He said tonelessly, looking upwards again.
"Alright, we'll scout the area just beyond these trees, where the most recent attack happened. The moon should be coming out soon." John said, apparently satisfied with his sons answer.
The trio started walking down the hiking trail, where a string of late night joggers and hikers had been mauled by the werewolf. There were luckily no police in the area, the murders being written off as wild animal attacks. John shook his head when he read the large red signs posted along the trail, cautioning people of the wild cats and dogs that ran free in the forest. A lot of good that will do.
Dean and Sam trailed a few meters behind their father; guns held loosely at their sides. "You sure your alright, Sammy?" Dean muttered under his breath, shooting his brother a concerned look. While he was grateful that Sam had not up and left them for school, Dean sometimes wished his brother had gone…he just looked so unhappy lately, and he could hardly stand seeing his brother looking that sad.
"Yeah, I'm fine Dean. Quit worrying." Sam grumbled irritably.
"Just asking, bitch." Dean huffed with a frown.
Sam smiled a little at his brother, "Jerk."
Dean grinned, feeling a little better that he had gotten a rare smile out of his little brother. He could only hope that his brother would return to his bitchy self soon, because this quiet version of Sam was fraying his nerves.
The brothers quieted when they found themselves in a small clearing, the trail branching off into two separate paths. Dean and John started talking about phase two of the plan while Sam stood guard, his eyes sweeping over the area carefully. The forest was completely dark now, the only light provided by the large moon and the beam of their flashlights.
The soft snapping of a twig to his fathers left caused Sam to whirl around; neither of the two older Winchesters had heard the noise over their quiet talking. Two pale yellow eyes suddenly appeared in the darkness, and Sam cocked his gun.
"DOWN!"
John and Dean both dropped instantly at Sam's bellowed command, John felt a small ruffle of wind when the giant wolf leapt over him; his ears ringing when his youngest fired his gun.
"Sammy!" Dean yelled, leaping to his feet and raising his weapon. The werewolf had avoided the bullet, and now had the youngest member of the family cornered into a large tree.
Sam heard his brother but didn't turn away from the snarling beast, who was eyeing the gun in his hand cautiously. It edged closer to him, as if it wanted Sam to shoot; its hunger for blood unquenchable.
John fired at the werewolf; fear for his son at the forefront of his mind, but the animal jumped and the bullet caught it harmlessly in the shoulder. It howled in rage and leapt at Sam, who wasn't expecting the thing to attack immediately after being shot. He fired widely, but the bullet went wide in his panic.
The gun fell from Sam's grip as he attempted to roll out of the way, crying out when the beast's claws caught him in the chest, effectively tearing his jacket and shirt to shreds. The werewolf pinned Sam to the ground, its jaw inches away from his exposed neck.
Sam gasped under the weight; he threw up his one free arm in a futile attempt to keep the snapping teeth away from his skin, grimacing as a fiery pain flashed across his chest.
Dean and John fired their weapons as one, and the beast leapt off of Sam and fled into the safety of the trees. The two hurried over to Sam, who had managed to pull himself up into a half seated position, panting as he rubbed his chest.
"Sam, are you okay?" Dean asked worriedly, kneeling to Sam's level and examining the bloody slashes carefully.
"Yeah…I'm alright." Sam gasped.
"Those are probably going to need stitching." John said gruffly from behind Dean.
Sam glanced over at him and nodded tightly before turning back to his brother. "Really Dean, I'm fine."
"Yeah well your shredded chest says otherwise, c'mon, we're getting you back to the motel and fixed up before you bleed all over the place." Dean replied, glancing at his dad for confirmation.
John nodded his head in agreement, "We'll pack some gauze on it in the car and finish this hunt tomorrow- that fucking werewolf is one of the smartest I've come across, I can't believe how fast that bastard moved."
"You think that it's encountered other hunters before?" Dean asked as he helped Sam stand.
John rubbed his stubble and nodded, "Yeah must have, probably switched hunting grounds when it realized it was in danger. We're going to have to be more cautious, this thing knows what its doing."
The three walked back in the direction from where they'd come, Dean and John both holding their weapons tightly in case the werewolf decided to pay another visit. Sam tucked his own gun into the back of his jeans and stumbled forwards.
John thought briefly about supporting Sam's free side, but decided against it. He sighed and chose instead to walk in front of the brothers; one single thought niggling at the back of his skull; he was losing his youngest son slowly...he could practically see him slipping away.
John was so lost in his thoughts about Sam that he didn't hear the sound of fallen leaves crunching as he made to exit the clearing. He did hear his boys cry out in warning before something heavy plowed into him. His head exploded in pain as he was thrown to the ground, and as he faded into darkness he heard two shots go off.
His return to consciousness was gradual, and it took John a moment to remember what had happened. He swore quietly to himself when he remembered; he had let the stupid werewolf get the drop on him! He wondered vaguely how long he'd been out, and if the boys had killed the overgrown mutt yet.
His silent question was answered less than a second later.
A gut wrenching scream caused John to snap his eyes open, he knew that scream well; it belonged to his oldest son and the last time he had heard it was three years ago when Sam had fallen through an icy lake.
"SAMMY!"
The throbbing in his head forgotten, John scrambled to his knees, his face paling when he saw the source of Dean's cries. The werewolf had its jaws firmly locked onto Sam's left side, blood leaking out from between its pointed teeth. Sam's neck was arched, his mouth opening and closing in wordless agony.
Dean was desperately reloading his gun, his hands shaking so badly that the bullets kept falling out of his hands.
"NOOO!" John roared, his hands scrambling on the ground before they came to a rest on his gun. He shot the werewolf between its eyes before crawling closer and shooting it again…and again and again.
The beast finally released Sam, who lay limp where he'd fallen, and backed away quickly. John leveled his gun at the werewolf's chest and emptied the rest of his clip into its dark heart.
The animal howled before collapsing to ground, clearly dead. None of the Winchester's even looked at the thing when it morphed back into it's human form.
John crawled closer to Sam, whose eyes were half open and staring upwards.
Oh god.
His son, his baby boy!
Sammy! God no, not Sammy…please not Sam!
Dean leapt forward, his hands hovering over the grisly wound on his brother's side; he pulled off his shirt and pressed it to the wound in desperate attempt to stem the blood.
John tried to shake his head clear as he placed Sam's head in lap, brushing away some of the blood matted hair. "You with me Sam?" He whispered quietly, he felt his son tense and heard him groan weakly when Dean put pressure on the injury.
"Dad…dad! God…Dad we gotta get him some help!" Dean choked out as he pulled up Sam's layered clothes. The bite was huge, and Dean felt bile rush up his throat…this was bad…this was really fucking bad! There was blood everywhere; it had already soaked through the t-shirt. "C'mon Sammy don't do this man…" He whispered shakily to his brother.
John tore his eyes away from Sam's pale face and shuddered when he inspected the wound. Some of his son's insides were now on the outside. He said nothing to Dean, but held Sam closer to his chest. The wound was fatal; his youngest son was going to die, and even if he didn't…he'd been bitten. Oh god, I let this happen, I doomed my own son.
Sam blinked groggily. "D-dad…Deannn…?" He slurred softly, trying to get his eyes to focus.
John attempted a wobbly smile, and Dean immediately slid into his brother's line of vision.
"Right here Sammy." Dean said soothingly, squeezing his shoulder softly.
"We're going to get you patched up son, its going to be alright…" John lied, his voice breaking as he ran a hand down the teen's bloody cheek.
Sam shivered. "S' cold…" He mumbled quietly as he fought to stay conscious. His entire body was shaking, and he knew that he was going into shock.
Dean and John immediately peeled of their jackets and laid them over Sam's chest. "Stay with me bro, you're going to be okay." Dean said firmly, grasping one of his brother's cold hands.
Sam knew that the both of them were lying through their teeth. He'd been bitten by a werewolf, even if he did survive his wounds he'd never be the same again. "Not...t-this time, n-nothing you c-can do..." He whispered through chattering teeth.
John closed his eyes as he struggled to keep his composure. A feeling of disbelief swept through him, he couldn't lose his son…he couldn't. He wouldn't allow it. Opening his eyes again, he looked back down at Sam and said fiercely, "Hang in there son. I swear to God that if you fight this you can go to any damn school you want. I'll even get us a house and quit hunting. Just please don't give up on us, I'll find a way to reverse the virus, I swear to you I will find a way."
He knew that he was being irrational, that none of the promises in the world would be able to save Sam, but damn it, he was the boys father, and hunter or no hunter, he had every freaking right to be irrational.
Sam smiled weakly, "S' okay d-dad…"
"No Sam, it's not okay. It's not!" John replied roughly, tears building up in the corners of his eyes.
"You heard him Sammy, you giving up is not an option. You hear me Sam? It's not an option little brother, we're going to carry you back to the impala and fix this." Dean added, his free hand putting pressure back onto the wound, tears streaming unnoticed down his face.
Sam whimpered, only able to roll his head as more pain assaulted his weakening body. He coughed and gagged on his own blood; which dribbled down his chin and stained his teeth red. "'m s-sorry…I…s-screwed u-up…sh-shoulda p-paid…more atten-attention…" He finally managed to say hoarsely.
"No Sammy," John shook his head, "don't you dare apologize alright? This isn't your fault…it's all mine…I'm so sorry son." Tears began to spill down his cheeks relentlessly, dropping onto Sam's forehead in earnest.
"S' okay…" Sam whispered. He knew that he was screwed, he could feel his life draining away, and the last thing he wanted was to die with his father thinking that he hated him. "Y-you might…b-be a s-stubborn…ass some…sometimes…b-but I s-still love ya…" He managed to ground out between gasps.
"God…Sam…I love you too son…" John whispered as he held the bridge of his nose, his eyes scrunched up tight as he tried to keep from totally losing it.
"D-Dean…" Sam called out, he could feel Dean's hand holding his own, but he couldn't see his brother, and he needed to talk to him before…before he couldn't anymore. Dean swam into his view again, and he could tell that his brother had been crying.
Dean scrubbed his cheeks and smiled reassuringly at his little brother. "No chick flick moments Sam, remember?"
"You're g-gunna be o-okay D-Dean." Sam rasped, it was now nearly impossible for him to breathe; his body was clearly shutting down.
Dean said nothing, his face pinched as he squeezed Sam's hand tighter than ever, as if holding onto his brother would anchor him to this world.
"I love…you D-Dean." Sam slurred, his own grip on his brother loosening.
"Don't do this to me Sam." Dean's confident tone broke as he began to plead with his brother.
Sam blinked slowly, his eyes open to mere slits.
It shook Dean to the core when he saw the dullness in those usually bright green eyes. "Sam? Sammy?" He whispered, his voice cracking.
Sam tried to say something reassuring but he found that he was unable to speak anymore, so he settled for a weak smile instead. His brother and father began to fade from his vision, the darkness closing in on him alarmingly fast.
"Sammy? Sam!" Dean shouted when his brother's hand went completely limp in his own. His brother's chest heaved one more rattling breath before it stopped altogether. "No!" He screamed in disbelief.
John stared down at Sam's white, blood smeared face and let out a broken sob. He didn't resist when Dean ripped the teen out of his embrace, screaming for his brother to wake up. He watched, broken, as his oldest son sobbed and cursed and screamed.
Dean hugged Sam tightly to himself, sobbing bitterly before turning to his father. "I fucking hate you!" He screamed, his face wet with tears, "Why didn't you just let him freaking go, huh? He'd still be alive if you had let him go, you selfish sonuvabitch!"
The father said nothing, just stared at his two broken sons sadly. This is all my fault.
"You should have let him go!" Dean continued to rant.
"D-Dean…" John whispered pleadingly.
Dean didn't pay any attention to his father, he just continued to scream and cry as he cradled his limp brother to his chest.
"You should have let him freaking go dad! It was what he wanted! Oh god Sammy…!"
John was vaguely aware of the fact that Dean's harsh cries seemed to be fading, as if someone was turning down the volume. Shock, I'm going into shock, he thought to himself as he began to tremble from the cold.
"John…"
A shiver went down John's spine when he heard the voice, and he turned towards the sound. He trembled and his mouth fell open in shock when he saw the ghostly apparition of his deceased wife hovering a few feet away.
"M-Mary?" He whispered, looking wildly where Dean sat to see if his son was also seeing the spirit.
It appeared that Dean either didn't notice or didn't care, for he continued to rock his baby brother, and John realized that although Dean's mouth was moving and his neck vein bulging as he screamed, he could no longer hear his son at all. In fact, he could hear nothing…not even the sound of the leaves rustling or the wind blowing. It was as if everything had been put on mute.
"John…you have to let him go…"
"W-what?"
John was really freaking confused, and he had every right to be. Sam…his baby boy, Sam was fucking dead, died in his arms less than five minutes ago and now he can't hear anything but the spirit of his wife, who had appeared out of no where in these godforsaken woods.
"Let Sammy go John…let him go…he will come back when the time is right…let him go..." Mary's spirit whispered, the gown she died in fluttering in the silent wind, her blonde hair blowing around her face.
John watched as Mary began to fade away, and he wanted to get to his feet and ask what she meant, but his legs were numb and all he could do was watch as she disappeared, her words ringing in his ears. He held his temples when the sounds of the woods came back, coupled with Dean's harsh sobs and his own thoughts.
"Let Sammy go. Let him go…let him go…"
"Dad, I can hunt during the holidays…please dad I really want to do this."
"If want to abandon this family, you never come back Sam, you hear me? You never come back!"
"You should have let him freaking go, dad!"
"John…you have to let him go…"
John growled in confusion and shook his head, screaming Sam's name at the top of his lungs before the world tilted and everything went black.
"SAMMY!!!!"
Sam felt his heart practically leap from his chest when he heard his father scream his name. He shoved the laptop away and leapt from his motel bed as fast as his injured chest would allow as scrambled over to his father's bedside.
John sat bolt upright in his bed, his body covered in sweat as he panted. Looking around wildly, he realized that he was in the motel room they had paid for before going on the hunt, and that his head hurt like a bitch. Had Dean brought him back? What had he done with Sammy?
Sam gripped his father by the shoulders, all of the anger and frustration he had with him currently forgotten and replaced with concern. "Dad? Dad are you okay? Dad!" He asked, his worry building when John simply stared at him. Had the head injury been worse than he and Dean had originally thought?
John stared at his youngest son, his heartbeat increasing tenfold. Sam was dead…he was dead! He had seen him get torn to pieces…had watched him take his last breath…
"Sam?" He finally whispered tentatively, the hunter inside him screaming to be cautious, but the father in him overrode those instincts as he hoped against hope…
Sam smiled a little, worry still clear on his face. "Yeah dad, that werewolf got the drop on you- but Dean managed to shoot it in the heart before it did any real damage. You came to a couple of times but you weren't really lucid. You've been pretty out of it for the past few hours, we were going to take you to the hospital if you didn't wake up soon."
John blinked in surprise. It had only been a nightmare? A really freaking vivid nightmare?
Sam turned away from John, intent on grabbing the pain pills from the first aid kit in the bathroom, but frowned when his father's arm shot out and grabbed onto his wrist tightly.
"Dad?" Sam asked, his green eyes confused and full of concern.
John pulled his son back down so that they sat level on the bed, and he put his hands on the teens shoulders as he inspected Sam's opened shirt. There were white bandages wrapped around the slash marks from the werewolf's sharp claws, but his left side was untouched.
"Uh, dad?" Sam repeated.
John felt himself shiver, Sam was warm…he wasn't cold and translucent and his eyes weren't dull. "Sammy?" He whispered again, his eyes shining.
"Yeah dad, it's me…are you feeling okay?" Sam felt his alarm growing and he wished that Dean would hurry the hell up and get back here. How long did it take to get food from a twenty-four hour diner anyways?
Sam felt his mouth drop open in complete shock when his dad suddenly pulled him into a bone crushing hug. "It was just a nightmare…just a fucking nightmare…Jesus Sammy…" He heard John mumble. He hugged his father back awkwardly, wincing at the pressure that was being put on his injured chest.
It was at that exact moment that Dean walked through the door, his own mouth opening and closing in surprise when he saw his dad and brother hugging. Sam gave him a look that clearly said he had no idea what had gotten into their father.
"Dad are you okay?" Dean asked carefully as he set the food down and made his way over to the pair.
John released Sam and looked over at Dean. "Y-yeah…I'm good." He said shakily, wiping at his watering eyes as he attempted to regain his composure.
"You sure?" Sam asked carefully, eyeing John warily.
John tried to smile reassuringly at both his sons, but when he looked at Sam all he could see was him dying, blood staining his teeth, and Dean…Dean screaming at him, telling him that he hated him…
Sam and Dean looked at each other alarmingly when John suddenly let out a small sob.
John dropped his pounding head into his hands and tried to breathe properly. He knew that his sons probably thought he had gone nuts…but he really didn't freaking care. He had lost both of his sons in that horrible fucking nightmare that could have been a reality.
Sammy had died, died a horrible death in his own arms. His eighteen year old son, he had thought he'd lost him…and then Mary…Mary had come and…had told him…had told him…
John's head snapped up in realization. Mary had told him to let Sammy go. He hadn't understood then, but now it made perfect sense.
Let Sammy go…let him go to college. It suddenly dawned on John that perhaps his nightmare hadn't actually been just a nightmare. There were a lot of things Supernatural that he couldn't explain, maybe this was one of them? Could Mary really have come? Had Sam dying and Dean screaming that he hated him been some sort of warning from her? That Sam would die if he stayed on the hunt and didn't go to school?
John tried to make sense of it all in his concussed brain.
"Dad, talk to me." Dean's voice suddenly filtered into Johns thoughts.
"I'm alright boys." John assured them, his voice raw with emotion.
They both frowned in doubt, and Sam suggested that they maybe go to the hospital just in case.
"No, no hospital." John shook his head, immediately regretting the motion when nausea swept through him. "Seriously boys, I'm alright…it was just a really bad dream, a really fucking bad dream."
Sam and Dean look unconvinced, but they both dropped it, knowing that pushing their stubborn father would only piss him off. John could tell that they were curious about the 'nightmare' that had caused him to freak out so badly, but he was grateful they didn't ask about it. He really didn't want to relive it, not now, not ever.
"Sam…" John suddenly said.
"Yeah?" Sam asked.
"You really want to go to college?"
Sam's mouth dropped open, and his eyes went wide with surprise. Where the hell did that question come from? He thought to himself.
Dean's reaction was pretty much the same, and the older brother quietly snuck his way into the bathroom.
"Uhhh…" Sam hesitated, wondering if this was some sort of trick question, but his father's eyes told him that he was being completely serious, so he answered honestly, "Not if it means losing you and Dean."
"And what if I said you wouldn't have to choose between the two?" John asked quietly.
"Then I'd want to go." Sam answered cautiously, practically waiting for his father to freak.
John nodded his head slowly. "If you really want to go Sam, I won't stop you. I might not like it, but I won't hold you back."
Sam shifted on the bed, not quite sure how to take his dads new found attitude. "Maybe…maybe we should talk about this tomorrow, when we've all had a chance to sleep." He finally settled on saying.
John knew the Sam probably thought his brains were scrambled from the concussion, and he himself knew that his mind wasn't going to change in the morning, but he nodded anyways. "Alright, we'll talk about this later."
Smiling awkwardly, Sam stood up and made his way back to his own bed.
"You can come out now, Dean. You know damn well that we know you're listening," John called out, his voice gruff, "and grab me the damn Tylenol three's, my head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds."
Dean smiled to himself from behind the bathroom door and grabbed the medicine off of the counter. Maybe things between his brother and dad would work themselves out after all.
His father's muffled shout made its way to Dean's ears less than a second later;
"What do you mean you guys didn't hide the body? It was right on the trail!"
This of course was followed by Sam's annoyed reply, "It's fine dad, we made sure there wasn't even a footprint of ours to trace...besides, we were kinda preoccupied with dragging your heavy ass back to the car..."
"Don't take that tone with me, Samuel Jonathan Winchester..."
Okay, so it was a big maybe.
Finis
Whew…I don't know where this came from at all guys…and I realize that it's definitely AU and that John may have been out of character…but well, every dad is entitled to a cry when they think their son just died…right?
Let me know what you think!