Doing What We Do, Supernatural, R

[phantisma]

Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Doing What We Do
Characters: John, Sam, Dean, Pastor Jim
Rating: R for theme
Word Count: 967
Summary: Last year, for the xmas_kinkathon, I wrote It Wasn't You for linda92595...and varkelton has spent the entire year telling me how awful I am that the fic was all hurt and no comfort. There isn't a lot of comfort to offer, but they are Winchesters...and they deal with things by doing what they do.

A/Ns & Warnings: For varkelton as a wee little Christmas offering. I know, I'm a sick puppy to offer you rape-recovery fic, for Christmas, but there you go. The definition of our friendship. LOL. Warnings: This follows on It Wasn't You and thus deals with the aftermath of both possession and rape.





"Don't." Dean brushed away the hand the Pastor Jim put on his shoulder. "You can't fix this." He took a swig from his bottle and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He could still feel her rage, her delight at being able to exact revenge through him, because he'd given her the idea.

"No, Son. I can't. But neither can you if you keep losing yourself in that bottle."

Dean didn't have any response for that. He could only stare at the bottle. "Dad—he's going to be okay, right?" Dean asked after a while.

"Physically, he'll be fine." Jim says. "Sam's with him now."

They'd gotten as far as Jim's place before it became apparent that John Winchester needed more medical help than they could give. Sam had gotten them to the hospital somehow because Dean was too drunk and John was hurting too much, and Dean couldn't watch as they took his father away, couldn't listen to the lies Sam was already telling. They were too close to the truth.

"Right now I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine." Dean said, but it was little more than reflex. He wasn't fine. He'd raped his own father. How is anyone fine after that? He took another drink. "It was my fault."

"No, Dean. It wasn't you."

Dean shook his head and stood. "No? It was my body. She used me to do those things to him. She hurt him and fucked him and made him beg." He couldn't get that sound out of his head…the sound of his father's broken voice sobbing and begging him to let him go. His stomach tied around that sound and wouldn't let go. "It was my idea. She never would have thought of it if I didn't bring it up. I should have been concentrating. We were hunting for fuck's sake."

"Dean. Put the bottle down." Jim stood too. "Come upstairs and see your father."

Dean shook his head. "He doesn't want to see me."

"He needs to know you're okay."

"I'm not." Dean snapped, closing his eyes. "I'm not okay. I—" He exhaled, shaking on the brink of losing himself all together. It didn’t help when Jim wrapped his arms around Dean and held him. He tried to push the older man away, but Jim just held him tighter.

He could remember the way it felt when she left him, when the connection snapped. He knew now that Sam had been responsible, and even though the connection had been through her necklace, Sam's burning of her bones had given Dean the opening he needed to push her out.

He could hear his own voice screaming as she fought to stay inside him, ripping up his head until he thought he was going crazy. And when she was gone, Dean was faced with what he had done…what she had done inside him.

His father's body was bleeding and strapped down and Dean's cock was still wet with come.

Jim held him as he shook, murmuring softly words that Dean knew were meant to convey forgiveness. He wasn't ready for that, but he could take the sentiment, hold on to the strength Jim offered.

Put the whole thing behind them.

He stepped back and wiped at his face.



It was another day before Jim got Dean up into the hospital room. Sam looked up from beside the bed as Dean stopped.

"Sam, why don't you and I go get some coffee." Jim said and Sam nodded slightly before getting up.

"You okay?" Sam asked as he passed Dean.

"Will be." Dean responded, his eyes never leaving his father's.

He didn't move until the door was closed and they were alone, then he shuffled forward slowly. "So…I um…I burned the clothes and Bobby took care of the scene. Nothing left." Dean said, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"Good." John said, his arms crossing.

He looked pale and younger than Dean remembered…though maybe it was the lack of beard. The hospital had shaved it to deal with a cut on his jaw. "J-jim said they were planning to release you tomorrow."

John nodded. "That's what the doctor said. Healing well."

"I'm glad." Dean had stopped at the end of the bed, his hand inches from his father's foot. They were both silent for a long time, then Dean opened his mouth…and closed it again. It took two more tries to get words out. "Dad…I’m sorry."

John closed his eyes and breathed in deep. "I know you are."

Dean felt his lip tremble. "I…I keep hearing you in my head…and I can't make my hands stop shaking."

He looked away, his hands hidden in his pockets as if that would help make it not true.

"Dean." His father moved, his hand reaching for him. "Look at me."

Dean dragged his eyes back to his father. "I know. I hear it too. But we're stronger than some angry bitch that crawled inside you. You hear me?"

He nodded slowly and felt the knots inside him loosen a little. "We'll get through this." John said, pulling Dean closer.

"How?" Dean asked, misery in his voice.

His father hugged him tight. "By doing what we do. Jim's gonna let us stay with him until I'm up on my feet. Then I got wind of a werewolf south of here. Should be ready by the next lunar cycle."

Dean nodded slowly. A hunt could at least give him something else to think about. "I'll get Sammy working some target practice tonight." Dean said, leaning back. "And we'll dig up some silver, press some bullets."

John smiled, though it wasn't very convincing. "That's my boy. We'll be fine. Both of us."

Dean wasn't convinced, not completely, but he felt a little better…and they had a job to do.