Athazagoraphobia

Chapter 10

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked, sitting on the edge of the bed while Dean shuffled back to lean against the headboard.

"Doing better. Little tired and nauseous is all. Ain't about to upchuck up dinner, though," Dean chuckled, trying to downplay how horrendous he felt, but it looked like Sam saw right through his act. His head was starting to pound, and it felt like his heart was trying to race the speed of light.

Sammy reached across the bed and placed the back of his hand across Dean's forehead. Dean felt normal, but he knew that he probably felt like shit. Sam opened the minifridge the couple kept in their room and handed his big brother a water bottle to help replenish the fluids he'd lost. Cas and Dean kept a minifridge in their room for when Dean would have a panic attack in the middle of the night and needed water.

Dean gratefully took the bottle and chugged about half of it before he finally decided to breathe. "Thanks."

"No problem." After a beat of silence, Sam decided to speak up. "How have you been?"

"Honestly, I've been better. Everything with Amara kind of caused my depression and anxiety to skyrocket, and I just couldn't take it."

Sam wrapped his had around his older brother's and gripped it tight, giving his brother some comfort.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway outside the bedroom door. Over the years, the boys' senses had improved tenfold from hiding from law enforcement/monsters and the multitude of healings from their respective angels. Whoever was outside in the hallway didn't have the same skills, and there was only one person they could think of.

Sam smirked when he saw his brother press his thumb to his forehead, spreading his fingers out; Dean was asking if Dad was in the hallway. They'd learned ASL when they were kids for when they were on hunts or simply hiding from John. It had been a while since they'd used it, so Sam thought Dean had forgotten, apparently not.

To hide the fact the boys knew John was listening in, Sam signed not as smooth as he thinks, while saying, "I'm glad. I've missed you, De."

Dean smiled at the affectionate nickname, which was reserved for when either one of them was feeling down or unwell, mentally or physically. "I've missed you, too, little brother."

The room went silent once more as Sam tried to think of something to talk about. Finally, it hit him. "Did Cas tell you what John did when we found you?"

Dean's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as his eyes widened. "No." Dean touched his forehead with the fingers of his right hand, then brought his hand forward and down, changing it to the letter "y" and keeping his palm facing him. Why? Why would Sam have them talk trash about John when they both knew he was eavesdropping?

Just go with it. "He blamed Cas for hurting you. And you know what, Cas agreed with him."

Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Of course, the one time my father and my husband agree on something is when I nearly kill myself." Then it clicked. Sam wanted John to hear some of the shit he'd done, but he wanted it to hurt. And hearing his sons talk behind his back would feel like a betrayal. He smirked as he emphasized, "Granted, based on some of the shit he'd done over the years, it makes sense."

When Sam realized Dean had figured out his plan, he smirked in return. "You were raising me alone. You were bound to make some mistakes, especially when you were less than double digits. And I doubt I was an easy baby."

Dean started to chuckle. "No, you were not. You were a troublemaker."

Sam started to think back on some of the reasons Dean was beat growing up. The more he started to think, the more he realized that most of the time Dean was 'injured', it was after Sam had broken something or did something else wrong.

Dread pooled at the bottom of his stomach the more he thought about it. "Did John beat you because of me?"

Dean's head snapped to look at Sam. What? "Of course not. John pounded on me because he was an alcoholic, obsessed bastard who cared more about revenge than his traumatized 4-year-old and 6-month-old." Dean then sighed. "Granted, when I got older, I did provoke him, so I deserved it most nights."

Sam reached over and grabbed his older brother's hand. "I know for a fact that you didn't provoke him hardly ever, and most nights John abused you either because he was drunk off his ass and was livid at the smallest things, or you were protecting me from him. Plus, even if you did provoke him, that's no reason to send you to the hospital once a month."

Dean looked down and after a minute, he finally nodded his head, agreeing with Sam.

Abruptly, John burst through the door, slamming it against the adjacent wall. "What the hell is going on?"

Sam and Dean were waiting for this moment, so they immediately adorned their puppy-dog eyes and Sam innocently asked, "what do you mean?"

John was livid, and the brothers were enjoying every minute of it, even if Dean was attempting not to flinch. "You know DAMN WELL what I mean!"

"We didn't know you were there!" John didn't need to know Dean was lying.

"That doesn't mean SHIT! You shouldn't talk about your father behind his BACK!"

Sam and Dean had to suppress their smiles as they 'innocently' looked at each other in 'confusion'. "We weren't talking about Bobby, we were talking about you," Dean corrected.

John began to stalk toward Dean as if Sam wasn't even in the room. "I'll teach you to talk behind my back."

Dean jumped up and started to back away in pure terror, images starting to flash before his traumatized mind. At the same moment, Sam had moved to try and restrain John.

However, before John could even move an inch, something appeared directly in front of him, stopping him in his stead.

"Now, I know you were not about to harm my best friend, were you?"

"Who the hell are you?!"

Dean let out a breath of relief as he sagged back against the wall. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he slid to the ground, a hand clutching his chest to calm his racing heart. He couldn't believe it; he was here. He was wondering when he would come.

"Crowley, " Dean whispered.

The demon turned to look at the Winchester brothers, a smirk on his face. "Hello, boys."