Hey folks,

I just had this idea, and I wanted to share with ya... it's kinda glimpse in the past, following John's speech in "IMTOD". I so had/wanted to do this... delve into Dean's psyche. Enjoy!

Glimpse in the Past

He quietly slipped out of the room, but didn't closed the door completely – just in case...

He grinned tiredly. The kid was really odd nowadays. He wouldn't go asleep alone, so he always had to linger until Sam went to sleep.

It had been a long day. Now it was ten 'o clock, so, he should try to catch some sleep too, but he was kinda excited. He couldn't explain the feeling he had in his gut. It wasn't the first time his dad was gone for a few days. Because of the strange feeling he decided to not go to sleep. He wanted to be awake on his return.

Later...

He jumped to full awareness, his heart thudding hard against his ribcage. What had woken him?

Jumping to his feet he walked to the bedroom, seeing Sammy sleep there peacefully.

A light knock let him whirl around.

Dread suddenly filled him, as he walked up cautiously, stopping in front of the door.

„Who's there?" he asked as he bent slightly, retrieving the gun that was always placed behind the door.

„Dean..." That was all that Dean needed to hear.

He let go of the gun and with flying hands he unlocked and opened the door, looking at his father who stood in the door frame, taking a stumbling step into the room, before his legs buckled and Dean jumped forward in a vain attempt to catch him.

„Sir!!!"

...

His shoulder hurt, where his dad's elbow had hit him on his way down. He somehow had managed to keep his dad upright enough to help him over to the couch, where he had slept on before.

He was frantic now, as he searched for the first-aid-kit, almost crying out in victory as he finally found it in the Impala's trunk. He dragged it up the stairs, back into the small living room and stopped frozen.

„... daddy!" With a few steps he was at the side of his small brother, who was trying to revive his father fruitlessly. The little boy turned immediately, looking up at Dean with huge, glistening eyes and asked in a trembling, fearful voice: „Why's daddy not waking up?"

„Sammy..." Dean felt helpless for a moment, but a small groan coming from his father, had his mind spinning in action again.

„Sammy, you hear? Dad's waking. You know... I... I bet he'll have some coffee if he wakes up... so... so you gonna go in the kitchen making some."

„But..." Sam started, looking at him with his head tilted to one side.

„No "but's" Sam. You go and make the coffee. You know how to do it, dont' cha?" he added, knowing this would add to push the kid.

Sam nodded and turned, vanishing in the little kitchen.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, his heart still thudding hard, while he started now, gently moving his hands over his dad's body, starting at his head. They came back bloody.

„Shit..." Dean whispered, his stomach started to churn. The same feeling he had had the whole evening, only now much more intensive.

Another moan, and his dad's eyes blinked open, revealing dull and unequal pupils.

„Dad..." Dean whispered, as he kept a firm hand on his father's chest, hindering him to sit up.

„Dad... where does it hurt?" he asked, trying to reach his father.

„Back..." came the whispered reply, followed by a wince and more panting.

„You gotta help me here a little..." Dean started, as he stood to assist his father to turn over.

„Aarrrghhh... gawd..." Dean stood there, his right hand entwined into his hair, totally overwhelmed for a moment.

His dad's shirt was ripped in pieces, strange, oozing cuts criss-crossed his back.

The couch already was beyond repair, he registered and almost laughed out at the thought.

Behind him something clattered to the floor and it took him several seconds before his brain caught up.

A small whimper let him whirl around.

Sammy was not supposed to see this...

...

He couldn't breathe properly with his little brother hugging him so tight.

„'t is okay... don't worry. 't is okay..." he soothed, feeling old, so old...

He felt bad, leaving his dad out there, unattended, but first he had to reassure Sammy.

„Listen... I gonna go and make dad all better, okay?" he asked, knowing denying wasn't an option.

„What ha... happnd to da?" Sam asked, his voice small and frightened.

„He told me that he fell..." Dean swallowed, silently bidding for more time, a better explanation to come up. „He... fell down the stairs... that's why he came home so late... he... he was at the doctor. And... I guess he really feels crappy..." he stopped there, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

„He told me to get you settled again... and that he then wants me to help him go to bed. So..." with that he loosened Sam's arms around him. „... you don't want me to let dad wait too long, do you?"

Sam again sobbed quietly, tears running down his little cheeks.

„Can't I help?" he asked.

„Sammy... please..." it was the voice that let Sam look up, that let Sam somehow know this was not about him.

Without another word he lay back in bed, turning his back to his brother and the door, so Dean would not see him weep anymore.

...

By the time Dean was finished he was drenched in sweat. His hands shook so badly, he didn't know how he had made all those sutures.

Gently he put an ointment on the puffy skin on his dad's back, his vision started to blur again, as tears threatened to fall, but he swallowed them back. He felt old... much too old to cry...

The wound on his dad's head at least hadn't required stitches, he had only put gauze on it, now the only job left for him, was to keep his vigil.

He put a blanket over his dad's prone form and heard him murmur incoherent in his unconscious state.

His hands lingered on his dad's neck, searching for the pulse-point to feel the reassuring thud against his finger-tips. And then he was bent down, near his ear, whispering softly:

„Everything's gonna be alright, Dad. Everything's gonna be alright. I gottcha. Don't worry. Go back to sleep..."

He settled down on the armchair, near his dad's head and waited.

...

Right before he nodded off, he was alerted from the door in his back. He turned around to see Sammy standing there, barefooted, his blanket wrapped around the tiny frame.

Sighing deeply he stood, moving over to his baby-brother.

„Hoi Sammy..." he knelt down in front of him. „... why aren't you sleeping?" his voice kept the soft tone because he already knew the answer.

„Is daddy okay?" Sammy asked quietly, his voice quivering.

Dean sighed again and picked his little brother up, carrying him over to the armchair he had sat on.

Sam wrapped his arms around his neck, while he wrapped the blanked tightly around his little brother.

They sat there, keeping the vigil together for a while and a small smile crept on Dean's face, as he felt Sammy relax into him, his breathing finally evening out, leaving him alone to continue...

...

John woke up feeling groggy. His head hurt and hell... his back was on fire.

He was lying on his stomach and pushed himself up carefully, only to stare into two green eyes that were studying him intensely.

„Sammy..." he asked, but was shushed with a shhhshing-noise, while Sammy pointed to the armchair.

Dean was sitting there asleep, a dark-blue blanket draped over him, in a most uncomfortable position. His son would be sore like hell.

He saw Sammy, barefooted, looking him up and down.

„Do you still hurt, daddy? Dean told me what happened at your work. He also told me, that he'd take care of you, but first I had to go back to sleep. But I couldn't sleep, so I went to ask Dean if he needed help, and then we two cared for you... but somehow I must've fallen asleep, because next thing I knew it was morning again..."

John smiled at Sam's whispered words.

„Dean was up very long, daddy..." Sammy ended.

John frowned, looking at his oldest, seeing the dark circles underneath his eyes.

He winced as he pushed himself up, stiffly walking over to where his son slept.

Slowly he bent over, grinning as he recognized the blanket to be Sammy's as he wrapped Dean tightly in it, and picked him up.

Dean didn't even stir, as he was carried into his and Sam's room, only when he was put down, he sighed deeply.

„Sleep. Everything's alright Dean." John soothed, swallowing against the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. For a moment he hated himself so much. Dean was too young to carry such a burden. To care for him and Sammy... he only could imagine how scared he must have been, at John's appearance last night. And Sammy had seen too...

He turned around to be greeted by Sammy who had followed. Smiling, he bent again, ignoring the stinging in his back, as he picked his little boy up and left the room, quietly closing the door. He shook off the guilty feeling as he poked Sammy's nose: „So, what are we two gonna do while your brother sleeps?" he asked seriously.

„I made coffee!" Sam told him proudly.

John winced at those words... „That's... great sport! Let's have a cup then, shall we?"

John's eyes widened as he walked into the small kitchen...

FIN