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Dean choked a little, gasping as his eyes opened and he looked around the woods silhouetted against the high moon above him.
He sobbed, feeling the pain rip through his stomach. He tried to stay still, but something was moving him.
He focused for a moment and noticed the strong arms around him as he pulled onto denim covered thighs.
"Dean? Dean" John called, shaking his son a little as he wrapped his arms around him. He panted, shaking as his gaze shifted down to the wound. His eyes scanned over the large claw marks that tore his son open, damn near spilling his guts.
John swallowed the lump on his throat. He wasn't usually so squeamish, but everything's a lot more gorey when it's your son's blood.
John choked up a little, sniffling as he shook Dean again, causing him to whine.
"Dean?" He quivered, pulling his son a little closer.
Dean managed to focus, eyes opening wider to meet his father's face.
"Dad...?" His voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough to make John shudder a sigh and force a smile while his eyes teared up.
"Hey" he whispered back, clutching the fabric of his son's clothes.
"Hey Dean. It's ok, it's ok" he choked, knowing it wasn't. Knowing that he may not be able to tend to this wound.
"Where is-" he winced a little "where is it?" He choked out, referring to the windigo they'd been hunting.
"It um... I - I shot it. It got away" John replied.
Dean snivelled a little, gasping as the slightest movement jostle his wounds and causing them to ache. No, not ache burn. Burn and sting, threatening to release his organs.
Dean sobbed a little, whining as he tilted his head towards his father. Dammit he felt like a little kid. A baby even. A big baby. But he was dying for fucks same, he's allowed to cry. At least, that's what you would think.
No, he decided. He shouldn't cry. He was a hunter, it was supposed to end this way and he should take it gracefully. Accept this death and hope that it's the last, because he truly didn't want to do this anymore.
He sobbed a little.
No. No, no. You weren't supposed to do that.
You can't cry, you're a hunter.
John rubbed his son's back ever so gently, not wanting to hurt him any further.
"It's ok Dean" he repeated "you're allowed to cry buddy" he whispered, leaning down to hold his face against Dean's.
Ok. Maybe you can cry. But you are not a child, so don't you even think about -
"Dadd-..." Dean barely cut himself off before he uttered the end of it, a sob getting caught in his throat.
John had heard just enough of it, and he melted. Suddenly instead of his grown son, he was holding his baby in his arms. A scared little boy. A scared little boy who used to fear thunder and lightning, who then was forced to fear fire and demons, and the absence of his mother.
John held Dean tighter. He knew he had to move them. He knew he had to at least try tend to his wounds, maybe get Cas involved if he was available, surly he could help even with his weak grace.
John knew he had to move but he was stalling. Not wanting to cause Dean anymore pain, his baby boy.
John took a deep breath and slowly lowered Dean.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry buddy, I'm so sorry" he whispered over and over again. He took off his coat and packed it tightly over Dean's stomach. Dean groaned, choking up a little. He continued to repeat his whispered apologies as he slide his arms under Dean, bracing himself as he began to rise with Dean in his arms.
Dean whined, gritting his teeth and groaning a little. His mumbling was incoherent, but some of them were definitely curses.
John adjusted his son in his arms before he began to trek back to the car.
"N-no" Dean complained "Mum and Sammy are still out there" he quivered, shifting in his dad's arms, much to his wounds protest.
"They'll be ok Dean. They can handle themselves" John assured.
"Y-you should go, dad. Y-you should help them" Dean stammered.
John paused briefly to readjust Dean in his arms, looking down at his son's pale face.
"I gotta help you Son" he said, grunting as he continued his trek.
Dean whined as he's jostled in John's arms, gritting his teeth and burying his face in his father's chest. His clothes smelt of dirt, blood and sweat but Dean didn't mind, that smell was home.
John finally stumbled out of the tangle of trees and got to where the cars were parked. He decided on taking the Impala, figuring it'll be easier to get Dean into it. He lowered Dean down beside the passenger side door and started to dig around in his son's pockets for the keys.
Dean panted, watching John gently search his jacket while trying to avoid his wounds.
His breath hitched as he opened his mouth to speak "l-left pocket...jeans" he breathed, head leaning back against the shiny exterior of his beloved car.
John looked up at Dean's face, gaze questioning. Unsure if he'd heard Dean talk, he remained like that for a moment.
Dean breathed and shaky sigh and lifted his head a little.
"Jeans" he huffed "left pocket".
John perked up at the instruction and put his head back down. He patted Dean's pocket before he reached in and tugged out the keys. He clutched them into his hand and stood, rushing off around to his truck. He opened the arsenal and left the keys on top of the ammo before rushing back over to Dean.
"Hey, hey. Come on, up you get, in the car" he whispered as he lifted Dean's mostly limp form up and struggled the door open, slumping Dean into the passenger seat.
He slammed the door shut before running around the hood and jumping into the driver's side. He sighed and put the keys in, trying to settle himself as he started the engine and placed his hands on the steering wheel.
Dean groaned and slumped against him, lips slightly parted letting his wheezing gasps of air. John tensed up and turned to scan his son, he relaxed a little bit when he say Dean shaking slightly with tense shoulders, arms wrapped around his wound that had now bled though John's coat.
"I'm...I'm gonna die" Dean whispered, staring forward at the darkness displayed out the windscreen.
John shook his head, biting his lip to stop it from quivering as he shifted the car to drive and began to turn onto the road.
"You're not. You're not going to die" he whispered back, letting Dean lean further against him as he drove off.
"We're not too far from the bunker, Buddy. We'll get you home we'll tend to you, w-we'll see if Cas is home" John blabbered, mostly to himself "it's ok, it's ok. Dad'll call Cas, Dad's gonna get you fixed up" he swallowed and glanced down at the bloody mess of his son's guts and started to wonder if he'd be able to go without stiches any longer, considering pulling over and doing on the side of the road.
John shook his head, focusing back on the road. He knew it wasn't a good idea, and they really weren't that far away since the case was very close to home. But even with the short distance to the bunker, John couldn't slow his heart or stop the thoughts of Dean not making it.
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Dean was struggling to stay awake, occasionally pressing on his wound, sending a jolt of pain to wake him. He winced a little too loudly one time and caused John to look over.
Dean glanced up and met his eyes. Nodding slightly and mumbling an 'I'm ok' though shaky breath.
John sighed, hands tight around the wheel as he continued to speed down the road "nearly there, Dean. Nearly there" John reassured quietly, feeling Dean shift against his shoulder.
John turned off the asphalt and began down the dirt road towards the bunker. Every bump made Dean wince, his head hitting against John's shoulder with each jostle of the car. John shushed him quietly, whispering comforting nothingness until the bunker came into view.
The car stopped and Dean began to relax a little, no longer needing to tense in order to protect his wound from the movements, at least try to.
John climbed out of the car and opened the door to the bunker, stepping past the threshold into the crows nest above the war room. He glanced down upon the bunker with a shifty gaze.
"Cas!" He called "you here!?" His voice echoed through the underground structure.
It didn't take long for Cas to make his way out into the war room, expression that of mild concern. He was looking up at John as he approached, scanning over the bloody clothes and frantic expression.
"John?" He questioned "what's happened?"
John sighed heavily between his sharp panting, relieved to the angel.
"Dean's hurt. He needs help, Cas. A-a lot of help" he replied.
Cas' eyes widened, only pausing for a moment before he was quickly making his way up the stairs.
John ducked back outside, rushing over to the car with Cas now in tow.
"Where is Mary and Sam?" Cas asked.
"Still on the hunt. I-I need to call em" John replied, wiping his brow as his panic began to rise.
Cas noticed the hunter's growing distress and put his hand on John's shoulder "It'll be ok. We should tend to Dean and then worry about informing them" he said, trying to keep his own panic under control, especially as he looked through the window at the bloody form of Dean in the car.
John nodded and opened the car door. He leaned forward, bracing himself to gently lift Dean into his arms. Dean whined, clutching his bleeding stomach as John lifted him. Cas placed a hand on Dean's shoulder for a moment before John turned for the opened bunker door, moving quickly but keeping his speed steady enough not to jostle Dean too much.
Cas followed John down the stairs. Once they touched the ground of the war room Cas sped in front of John, leading the way to the med bay with urgency.
Cas had begun quickly gather supplies and moving them closer to the first bed by the door. John rushed in behind him and laid Dean on said bed, Dean winced as he's released from his father's arms, grumbling something with a pout.
Cas ripped the bloodied coat away to look at the wound, brow furrowing.
John panted as he also looked down at the still bleeding wound.
His gaze snapped back to Cas "please tell me you can do something" He pleaded, knowing the angel wasn't exactly swimming in grace.
Cas glanced at John briefly before looking back at the wound, examining the damage.
He sighed, looking back up at John with a sorry expression "he'll still need stiches" he fretted.
John shook his head "anything, Cas. Do something" he said.
Cas nodded, looking back down. His eyes shone an icy blue, and a light came from his palm. He hovered his hand over the wound. It closed slightly, a few layers of flesh healing itself and shallowing the wound significantly enough for it to become slightly less life threatening.
Cas gasped a little, the light flickering out and the hand hovering over Dean flying up to grab his temple. Cas grunted, stumbling back against the next bed over.
John perked up and attempted to rush over to the angel's side.
Cas put up a hand, gesturing for the hunter to halt. He panted, hand still on head as he looked up at John.
"Take care of Dean" he whispered before his face scrunched up in pain and he looked away again.
John sighed and gave a small nod, reaching for the tray beside the bed and donning some gloves.
"Ok buddy" he whispered, readying a syringe.
Dean's eyes weakly flickered to the offending medicine and tried to shake his head.
"No..." He rasped, whining a little as he watched John flick the bubbles from the solution in the chamber.
John looked down at his son's pleading eyes.
"I'm sorry Dean. You really need something in ya. It probably won't knock you out alright" he assured, knowing that being knocked out wasn't Dean's only concern.
"Look away buddy" John whispered, pulling up the sleeve of Dean's shirt.
Dean scrunched his face up, looking away and taking a deep, shaky breath.
"All done" John announced, disposing of the needle before reaching for the suture kit.
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Even under heavy medication, the sutures were a nightmare.
Dean was mostly fine, hardly feeling the average little prick. But occasionally a certain poke would burn just right to make his whine. His legs would twitch and the grip he had on his own arm would tighten. Teeth clenching, face screwing up as he threw his head back against the pillow.
Cas collected himself and stationed himself at Dean's side, stroking his hair and trying to convince to undig his nails from the skin of his bicep- to very little success.
Occasionally Cas would glance down at John as he's working. Watching intently at John's hands expertly and gently sewing the bloody wounds closed. As he looked on, he continued to stroke Dean. Whispering reassures and praises, telling him he was doing so well and that it was ok. Shushing him gently whenever the whines got too loud or when they started to become sobs instead.
John finally sat back and let out a long breath, looking down at his handy work.
"Ok" he breathed, eyes scanning over the still bloody, but now stitched up skin below him.
"Let's get that cleaned up a little then" he stood up with a grunt.
Dean whined, hands gently covering his sewed up stomach.
"No" he protested, sluggish on meds and dizzy from pain and not wanting to take anymore.
The tired and hurt gaze in his son's eyes almost made John give in. But he steeled himself and sighed, putting on some new gloves and grabbing some gauze wipes and some saline solution.
Dean sobbed a little, incoherently babbling with pleads for John not to. John bite his cheek as he continued to saturate one of the wipes.
Dean cried as John cleaned up his stomach, though it didn't seem to be causing him too much pain, he'd just had enough. John and Cas both whispered to him as John cleaned him up, shushing his cries and telling him he was doing well.
When John was satisfied with the cleaning, he was five wipes deep, all now soaked in rehydrated dried blood.
He dumped the last one onto the pile and sighed, watching one more tear fall down Dean's cheek before sleep started to claim him.
John swallowed and slowly stood from his chair.
"I'm gonna call Mary" he said quietly, speaking over the bed to address Cas.
Cas looked up briefly and nodded, John then left the room.
Cas stayed at Dean's side, stroking his hair and watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Cas sighed, stroking his fingers down Dean's freckled face. He was pale, having lost a lot of blood, luckily it wasn't transfusion levels of enough, but it was close.
Cas looked up as John stepped back in, running a hand over his stumble as he tried to calm his breathing.
Cas remained silent, letting John compose himself.
"Sam and Mary are on their way back home. Their fine. They finished the hunt with minor difficultly according to Sam" John managed, taking a deep breath after and resting his hands on his hips, his body still stiff.
"Are you injured?" Cas asked, tilting his head.
John shook his head "no, I'm fine Cas".
Cas tilted his head further, squinting.
John sighed "I promise, alright. I'm fine" he insisted.
Cas shook his head "your 'father' act doesn't work on me John" he said, pushing his chair back and standing up. "Where are you hurt?"
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Sam and Mary quickly approached the med bay, rushing in and pausing at the scene before them.
Cas looked up from the bandages he was focused on, standing over John who was sat on the chair beside Dean's bed, shirtless and with a bottle of liquor in his hand.
Cas nodded at the two "hello" he said, before returning to tending to John's wounds- minor wounds as John had insisted they were.
"Hey" Sam hesitated, brow furrowed. Meanwhile Mary was already making her way to Dean's side, Sam perked up and followed over as well.
John looked up as Mary cupped Dean's face, he was still asleep.
"He's sleeping right now" he said "drifted off after he finished cleaning him up".
"Is he ok?" Sam asked, nursing his own wounded arm.
John shrugged, annoying Cas as it interrupts the angel tending to the wound on John's shoulder.
"As ok as he came" John replied, meeting Sam's eyes, one of which has a bruise forming beside it. John shook his head "this is what you call minor difficulty" he exasperated, scanning over his son's visible injuries.
Cas huffed "this is what you call a minor wound" he retorted, going back to tightening the bandage over John's shoulder.
John grunted, shifted back at force Cas used to tug the bandage.
Mary smiled a little, shaking her head "like father like son" she mumbled.
Cas rose his eyebrows and gave a slight nod in agreement without looking up.
"Well you're stubborn too" There was mumbled from the bed below them.
"Oh" Mary squeaked, looking down as Dean leaned his head into her touch. He smiled up at he weakly, eyes still full of sleep.
"Hey" Sam perked up, leaning forward and putting a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Hey honey" Mary whispered, running a hand through his hair.
"Hey Mum" Dean grumbled back, eyes shutting again.
Sam gently patted his shoulder, huffing with a smile on his face "go back to sleep man, you need rest" he said.
Dean hummed and nodded a little, head lulling to the side and squishing into the pillow. Sam chuckled a little, patting his brother's cheek before straightening up to take off his coat, wincing a little as he feed it over his wound.
"Ok" Mary said "let's get you patched up to".
"Are you injured Mary?" Cas asked, finally stepping back from John and letting him put his shirt back on.
"I'm-".
"Don't lie to me" Cas warned, squinting at her.
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Later that night, close to the early hours of the morning, John was sitting in the library with a glass, the half empty bottle sitting somewhere towards the middle of the table.
He sighed, rubbing his brow and scrunching his eyes shut. He lowered his hand and lifted his glass, taking a small sip of the liquid it contained. He returned to silently sitting in the dim library staring forward at the wall across from him.
In the midst of his silent solitude, he perked up at the sound of something behind him. The hunter slammed his glass down and spun around, bracing himself, only to immediately relax at the sight of Dean.
Dean's arm was wrapped gently around his stomach, the other reaching out and grabbing his surroundings for support.
John scoffed and shook his head "dammit boy" he grumbled "what the hell are you doing?" he stood up to help Dean to sit down on a nearby plush bench.
Dean just hummed and leaned in closer to his father's touch.
"I thought Cas was with you" John huffed, lifting his son's shirt to check the bandages. He sighed and threw Dean's shirt back down, looking up at him.
Dean's gaze clearly showed he was tired - and high, having been given another dose of pain meds only about an hour earlier. Dean mumbled, eyes sliding shut as he let himself slump against John's chest.
John jumped a little but quickly relaxed and wrapped his arms around Dean.
"What's up?" He asked gently, rubbing Dean's back.
Dean hummed and shrugged, face pressed into his father's neck.
At this point Cas has rushed up to the doorway during his frantic search for Dean- he'd only left him for five minutes. He paused at the door, seeing the scene and smiling. He lingered for a moment before he slowly stepped back and turning back down the hall.
"Where are your words Dean?" John said quietly, mostly to himself as his son remained silent and snuggling against him.
Dean hummed again, the sound a little raspy, caught a little in his throat. John sighed again, finally pulling away from Dean, pushing gently on the boy's shoulders to make him sit up.
"Come on, you need to go back to bed" he said, patting Dean's shoulder.
Dean huffed, pouting a little but nodding, reaching up to rub his eye.
"Ok" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.
John encouraged Dean to his feet and supported him as they walked back to the med bay. At the door, Dean clutched his father's sleeve tightly.
He shivered a little and turned with pleading eyes, clearly heavily under the medicine's influence. John tilted his head, about to ask what's wrong when Dean interrupted with the answer.
"I don't want you to go" he admitted, voice quiet and raspy.
John's face softened and he nodded.
"Ok" he whispered "I won't leave, ok. I'll stay here. Just- please go back to bed" he encouraged, gently leading Dean further into the room and over to the tussled bed he had left.
John got him laying back down and tucked him in, pulling up a chair beside him. He placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and sat in silence as Dean drifted back to sleep