The Kid, Part 10 -- Supernatural, PG

[phantisma]

Fandom: Supernatural
Title: The Kid Part 10 ( All of The Kid can be found Here)
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, John
Rating: PG
Genre: GEN (did you even know I could GEN?)
Word Count: 2812
Summary: Dean is 18, Sam is 14. John is 6. Dean's down with a cold, at least until Sam announces that they have a bit of a problem. In true Winchester fashion, what begins as a bit of a problem becomes much more.

A/Ns & Warnings: Um. This is at least partially varkelton's fault. De-aging fic. This part is a wee angsty. *pets poor Dean*


Pretty art provided by fallen_for_lost






Dean heard them come home and pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Sam?" He coughed and pushed sweaty blankets back, easing himself up out of the bed. His knees were weak, but the fever seemed to have broken.

John came flying up the stairs as Dean opened his door, his hair still wet, his face white. He flung himself at Dean, his hands closing around Dean's legs and squeezing.

"Hey, buddy. What's wrong?"

Sam was coming up the stairs now, his clothes and hair wet too. "Sam?" He looked tired, worn.

"We have a problem."

Dean tried to peel John off of him. "What happened?"

Sam's face was pinched and angry. Or maybe it was scared. Sometimes Dean couldn't tell. "Tell me what happened."

"He grabbed me." John said into Dean's stomach.

"Who grabbed you?" Dean looked to Sam who didn't seem to want to say. "Will one of you fucking tell me?"

"Tommy Jacobs." John turned his face up to Dean's. "I saw him in the water and I didn't want to go in, but Brandon was teasing me about being scared and so I did…and then he was grabbing me and pulling me and I couldn't breathe and I screamed but there was so much water." John was shaking, burying his face into Dean's robe.

Dean's hand stroked over his hair. "Sam, what the fuck happened?"

"I think it was…a ghost." Sam said reluctantly. John shook all the harder and held on to Dean tighter. "I saw him having trouble and I dove in. There was something holding him down."

"A ghost? A fucking ghost?"

John whimpered and Sam held up both hands. "We need to calm him down first."

"Yeah, I got him. Why don't you get dry before you get sick." Dean sniffled and wished like hell he was feeling more like a human being to deal with this thing. "Why don't you and me go get you some cocoa, okay?"

When John didn't let go of him, Dean pried his hands loose and picked him up. John nuzzled into his neck. "Hey, buddy…you're okay, and you're home. You're safe."

"Don't make me go back there. I don't want to see him again."

Dean hugged John to him. "No, you don't have to go back. Not until Sam and I take care of it."



Dean handed John a second mug of cocoa and left him watching cartoons and headed back into the kitchen where Sam was writing down the details of his experience at the pool.

Dean blew his nose and sank into the chair opposite Sam. "Okay. Tell me again."

Sam exhaled and put his pen down. "I got there just before their free swim. John was at the shallow end with a couple of kids. He'd said something yesterday about a ghost and some girl getting touched. I wasn't sure I believed him."

He pulled a hand through his hair. "Then he was jumping in, only he didn't come up…not for a long time, and when he did, he was screaming. Something pulled him under Dean. I swear to you. I dove in, the lifeguard right behind me, but he was at the other end of the pool. I got my hands under his arms and pulled, but I couldn't budge him."

"You think this ghost was pulling him under?"

Sam shook his head. "I mean…what else, right?" He fiddled with his pen. "The lifeguard got there and suddenly, John was in my arms, and we were coming up."

"Did it just let go?"

"I guess?"

"He said he saw it." Dean blew his nose again. "When you guys came home. He said he saw the dead kid. In the water."

"Tommy Jacobs." Sam nodded. "I did a little asking around before I went to the center. He was nine. The pool wasn't even finished yet. The whole area was under construction. He fell in and drown in two feet of rain water and run off."

"When was this?"

Sam sighed. "Nineteen sixty nine."

That didn't make much sense. "So what? All this time he's minded his own business, but now all of a sudden he's pulling kids under?"

Sam shrugged. "There have been stories, but nothing like this. Laughing, a kid's voice. Nothing where anyone's seen him or felt him."

"Until now." Dean looked over his shoulder, checking on John. Judging by the slant of his body on the couch, he'd fallen asleep. "Okay. I guess I'll do some research tomorrow. Figure out where he's buried."

Sam's eyes narrowed, his arms crossing.

"What?"

"You promised." Sam said, his voice soft.

"This is different."

"No it isn't." Sam pushed back from the table.

"It's Dad. It came after him."

"You promised me. No more hunting."

"What do you want me to do, Sam? Let it keep going until it finally kills someone?"

"Call someone. Jim. Let him do it. Or Bobby."

Dean wanted to tell him no, wanted him to realize they couldn't turn their backs on this. But he had promised. "Okay. I'll call Jim. Give him what you've got so far. John can stay home with me tomorrow."

Sam nodded. "Thank you. I better get my homework done."

"I'll get the kid up to bed."

Dean rescued John's half full cocoa from its precarious perch on the arm of the couch and lifted him. It amazed him how small the kid was, how light and frail and impossibly small. John shifted, his arm falling slack as Dean headed for the stairs. Dean tucked him into bed, slipping Mr. Turtle in under his arm, then kissed his forehead, smoothing a stray lock of dark hair off his forehead.

He found it hard to leave him though, lingering as John shifted and turned, curling his little body around Mr. Turtle, sighing as he settled. He'd never in his life imagined his father so small, so helpless. The thought of some ghost pulling him down, drowning him churned Dean's stomach.

With a deep, breath, Dean left him, heading down to his room and picking up his phone. "Hey, Pastor Jim."

Dean scratched his head as he closed his bedroom door, the phone trapped between his cheek and shoulder. "No…we're fine. Well, not completely. I think…I think we stumbled across a hunt. Here in town."

He moved to the closet, rummaging around until his hand closed on his father's journal. "The center where John goes after school. Something tried to drown him today."

Dean dropped the book on the bed and rescued the phone before it slipped off his shoulder. "I promised Sam no more hunts. I thought maybe you could look into it." He turned on the bedside light and sat. "Great. I'll bring the information by in the morning."

There was a part of him that wanted to go after the fucking thing himself. Dean's lungs itched and burned and he coughed into his fist as he opened his father's journal. He hadn't looked at it since they'd given up on finding a way to make Johnny back into John.

The first pages were filled with contacts, and the first few entries Dean had never read. It was always too painful. The raw emotion, the hurt and grief poured out, even through his father's tight words.

Mary is gone. I know what I saw, even if I can't explain it. My father was wrong. He was real. The man with yellow eyes. He killed her. He would have taken Sam too. Just like Jeremy. No one believed me then either. I let myself forget. Now Mary is gone and it's all my fault.

Dean's finger traced over the words. The man with yellow eyes. The demon. He had known that much. He had never known that his father had seen it before. Dean reached for the phone again. He dialed Bobby's number and waited.

"Hey, Bobby."

"Dean? Everything okay? You don't sound good."

"Yeah, fine. It's a lousy cold. I just…I had a question."

"Shoot."

Only now Dean wasn't sure how to ask it. "It's about my father. Did he ever…maybe mention seeing things?"

"Seeing what?"

Dean pressed his palm against his aching head. "I don't know… stuff. Supernatural stuff. When he was younger, I mean."

"Something going on I should know?" Bobby asked.

"Just…he's…I was reading his journal, and he says something about seeing the demon when he was younger…and John is…well, he saw something today that no one else did."

"Hmmm…" Bobby sounded like he was loading a gun. "Not that I remember. You thinking he's got some Sight or something?"

"I don't know. He always said that kids see the truth of things easier. Maybe it's just that."

"What'd he see?"

Dean shook his head. "Ghost of a boy. I'm taking the information to Pastor Jim tomorrow. He'll handle it."

"You let me know if you need anything."

"Yeah, thanks."

Dean hung up and turned back to the journal. He knew so little about his father's past. He knew he was a marine, served time in Vietnam. He knew that he made connections other hunters didn't. Even Bobby'd called him crazy more than once, only to find that John Winchester was right.

He flipped a few pages in the journal. The answer wasn't going to be in there. He shoved the journal into the bedside table and huffed.

He needed to let it go. Give Sam's description to Jim in the morning and let it be. Once Jim dealt with the ghost, John could go back to the center and everything could go back to normal.



It was snowing as he and John arrived at the church. Dean pulled his coat tight around him and held John's hand as they headed up the stairs. Jim was waiting for them at the door.

"Morning."

"Dean, John. Come on in. I've got coffee."

"Coffee sounds good." Dean followed him in, through the sanctuary and toward his office.

"So, what's this about?" Jim asked after he'd handed Dean a cup of coffee and John had climbed into Dean's lap.

Dean pulled the papers out of his pocket and handed them across. "That's Sam's story. I wasn't there."

Jim nodded, smoothing out the pages and glancing over them. "So Sam didn't see it?"

"No, but John says he did."

Jim looked startled, and John made a distressed noise. He'd been sticking close to Dean all morning, and had hardly said a word. "Is that right, John?"

He nodded slowly, clinging to Dean's jacket. "Can you tell me what you saw?"

"Do I have to?" John asked in a whisper.

Dean held him close. "No, you don't have to…but if you can tell us, maybe we can help, so no one else gets hurt. Okay?"

John was trembling and his eyes filled with tears. "He was in the water. He's not always in the water."

"You've seen him before?" Jim asked, his voice gentle.

John nodded. "Sometimes in the showers. He likes turning them on and off. Once he was by the pool. He always smiles. But he wasn't smiling yesterday. He was in the water and he was scary."

"What did he look like?" Dean asked, stroking a hand down his back.

"He was all wrong…gray and his eyes were red and scary. I didn't want to go in the water while he was there. He knew I could see him. No one sees him. No one know he's there. No one knows."

"Okay, John. Okay." Dean hugged him close. "Pastor Jim is going to make sure he goes away, okay?"

Jim came around the desk, touching John's shoulder. "Can I ask you something, John?"

John sat up and nodded,

"Have you seen anything else?"

"Like what?" John sniffled.

"Well, other ghosts maybe?"

John shook his head. "There was the man with yellow eyes."

Jim looked at Dean. Dean shook his head minutely. "What man, Johnny?"

"I was little, like when I was just five and my cousin was spending the night with his mommy. He was just a baby. The man with yellow eyes came and he took my cousin away."

"Took him?"

John's eyes were big. "I saw him, he had Jeremy in his arms and he looked at me and did this." John put his finger over his mouth. "I was afraid. I didn't move. Not until he was gone, then I yelled and yelled and Mommy came to see what was wrong, and she told me there was no man, and Jeremy was fine. But he wasn't fine. He wasn't breathing."

"That's very good John." Jim said. "I'll bet Sister Margaret has cookies ready. You remember how to find the kitchen?"

"Can I Dad?"

Dean nodded dully and John jumped off his lap and headed for the rectory's kitchen. "Why'd you ask that?" Dean asked when he was gone.

"Just a hunch." Jim moved back around the desk. "When I met your father, he was pretty shaken up still over your mother's death. Told me it was his fault. That he knew the demon wouldn't leave him alone."

"What are you saying?"

"I don't really know, Dean. Your dad wasn't the most talkative man in the world, even then."

Dean exhaled slowly. Then coughed. When it passed he rubbed a hand over his sweaty face. "If that's true…if the demon wants something from him…"

Since coming here, Dean had been pretty lax about the normal protections his father had insisted he learn. There were no charms in the house, no salt lines. It was like an open invitation. At least that was something he could fix.

"I…um…could use some holy water, you know? Maybe you could come by and…help me set up some stuff?"

Jim nodded. "Sure, I'll deal with this first." Jim tapped the paper. "I can come by tomorrow. In the mean time, you look like you belong in bed."

"Damn cold. My boss gave it to me."

"Smitty tells me good things about you. He's impressed."

"Dad taught me well."

"You're doing good, Dean."

Dean brushed off the praise. He was just doing what needed to be done. Nothing more. Jim handed him a glass jar. "Go on and get some holy water from the fount. I'll go round up John."

The sanctuary was empty. It was quiet and peaceful. Dean may never have had much need for church, but he appreciated the quiet. The doors behind him opened, casting bright, blinding light down the aisle and a long shadow that fell over Dean. He turned to look, but couldn't see much against the glare.

Slowly the door closed and in the dark that followed, Dean heard footsteps. He capped off the jar and turned. The man seemed familiar, like Dean should know him.

"Hey, you're that Winchester kid."

Dean's eyes adjusted to the dark again and he squinted. "Do I know you?"

"I saw you here last Christmas, was looking for your daddy."

Dean nodded slowly. Wallerby…or something. "Right."

"You told me he was dead."

"Yeah, he is."

"Dad!" John came running with Pastor Jim behind him. "Sister Margaret made one just for you!" He thrust a huge chocolate cookie toward Dean.

"For me?" He took the cookie and drew John close to him.

"Mark, what brings you here?" Jim said as he came close enough.

"We know he ain't dead, kid."

Something in the man's tone was uncomfortable. John pulled on Dean's jeans. "Dad, I don't like him." Dean picked him up, instinctively pulling him away from the hunter.

"Well, you can believe what you want." Dean said.

"He's all black inside." John whispered in Dean's ear.

"You hid him away somehow…but we all know he's still alive." Wallerby's eyes flooded with black and Dean stepped back. "He hasn't shown up in hell yet."

John was screaming, his arms holding to Dean's neck so tight he was afraid he'd pass out. Dean threw the jar of holy water at the man's feet, sending glass flying and the water spraying up over his legs.

Jim pushed Dean back behind him, into the sanctuary and started reciting Latin. Wallerby's laughter was chilling. "You gonna send me packing, priest? Without me this body is dead…has been for a while.

Dean turned away, covering John with his body. Jim's voice rose, then there was a scream and a thud. "It's over." Jim called.

When Dean turned back around, he was squatting beside the dead body. "I think maybe you're place is our first priority." Jim's eyes scanned over John who was still clinging to Dean. "I'll get my kit and meet you there, as soon as I deal with this."

Dean could only nod, stepping over the body and covering John's eyes as he made for the door. Somehow, Dean was beginning to think that the ghost of a dead boy was going to be the least of their worries.