Fic: Fractured Bonds Chapter 2

[majestic_duxk]

Chapter 2

In the end it took a couple of weeks to organise everything for the exorcism. It was with no small amount of bitterness John noted the perfect weather. Perfect weather to destroy the last vestiges of his son’s innocence.

The first step was to get Sam away. There was no way in Hell that boy would be able to be near while Dean was hurting. Even if John thought Sam could control himself, he wasn’t going hurt both his sons like that.

Making the decision was the easy part. Removing Sam? That was more difficult, much more difficult that John had imagined. Given the way the boy normally whined about having to stay home when normal kids got to do normal things – coupled with the fact he’d been looking after his brother for weeks - John thought he’d jump at the chance of a day playing with boys his own age. He’d been wracking his mind for a natural way to get Sam away, and the timing of the church picnic had been wonderful. The only thing to go his way, really. The pastor cried off – citing religious reasons and the needs of his flock, but had asked to see if one of the families with young children would mind taking Sam for the day.

He’d thought Sam would enjoy it – a day at the beach, food, everything the youngest Winchester wanted and never got. And yes, John admitted to himself, normally Sam would have jumped at the chance.

But that was before Dean was injured. Since that God-forsaken night, Sam had barely left his brother’s side. He’d even growled at John, who in a massive show of self-restraint didn’t growl back.

It was a close thing though. And it wasn’t like they could fault the boy.

“No, Dad! I can look after Dean! He’s my brother. I’ll do it proper, Dad. Please, I promise!”

John ran a hand through his hair. “You have done a good job, son. But he…” Jim watched as John gathered his thoughts. It was obvious Sam didn’t know about the pregnancy. John hadn’t realised – or had wilfully ignored the evidence, which was closer to the truth.

Not that he would have told his youngest son, even if he had known. Sam – Jim realised, looking at the boy – didn’t even know the truth of what had happened to Dean. Well, it wasn’t his place to say anything, but nothing good could come of keeping Sam in the dark.

Sighing, Jim turned his back, giving the Winchesters a little more privacy. It was lucky an omega’s scents changed as soon as they quickened. Even at this early stage it could be dangerous for Dean. The longer his body harboured the shifter’s seed, the harder it would be on his little body to remove. Jim had been perhaps a little light with the truth. This was going to hurt Dean. A lot. But there was also no other option.

If Dean kept the baby, Dean would die.

--oo--

Eventually John managed to wrestle Sam from Dean’s side.

“What do you think I’m going to do, Sam?” John had eventually shouted.

Sam returned his glare with the most suspicious look Jim had ever seen on any face, let alone an eight year old. He couldn’t help wondering what John had done to earn such a look. Although if he really wanted to know, the answers were right in front of him.

It was Dean who eventually decided it.

“Sammy, I know you wanted to play soccer this weekend. And you can do that now. It’ll be fun, right?”

Wrenching himself out of his father’s hold, Sam threw himself at Dean. He didn’t notice the way Dean winced. And Dean didn’t say anything. Just wrapped his arms around his little brother.

“It’ll do you good.” He then whispered something in Sam’s ear, something that caused the younger brother to tense, before collapsing in on his brother. They stayed like that a few moments before Sam pulled back and looked Dean in the eyes, expression serious.

“You better be here when I get back, Dean.”

Dean laughed, hooking an arm around Sam’s neck, pulling him down and ruffling his hair. Ignoring the squeaks he wrestled him until both boys were giggling on the floor.

“Where would I go without you, Sammy?”

As Sam drew in a breath (probably to argue. Jim was figuring these boys out, and Sam was very like his father), John intervened. Putting a hand on his youngest’s shoulder, he got down, and looked Sam in the eye.

“I promise Dean will be here when you get home.”

--oo--

Dean looked on, wide-eyed as Pastor Jim attempted to convince Sam to leave for the day. If he was honest… he was worried. He felt safe with Sam around. Safer than with his dad. He knew that was unfair. He knew this was dad. It smelt like dad. It acted like dad (the normal dad. Right after it happened, dad had been all gentle and weird. Now he was back to his normal drill sergeant self. The… the thing that had hurt him looked like dad, but smelt different. So Dean knew. It was still so hard though, not to jump back when dad reached for him. All he could see was the… the shifter.

It had hurt him. It hit him, and bit him, and put… put…

Dean’s mind blanked. He still didn’t understand and dad wouldn’t talk about it. He knew he had changed somehow, and that was why the shifter had… had put things in his bottom. He hadn’t liked it. That hurt more than anything.

He felt dirty and dad wouldn’t talk about it. He just sat looked at Dean sadly, or was angry and punched things. He and Sammy were fighting even more.

Sammy. A small smile formed. It was hard to believe that his bratty, annoying brother was being so… Dean didn’t know how to describe it. It wasn’t clingy. It was more caring. Sammy was looking after Dean like Sammy was the big brother. Even though that wasn’t right, even though Dean’s job was to be the big brother, he couldn’t help but relax when Sammy was around.

Sammy felt safe.

--oo--

“Dad?”

John winced at the tremor in Dean’s voice. Of course he was scared. He’d been brutally ra… attacked just a few days ago, and now he’d stripped him down to his briefs and tied him to a chair. And yes. He did feel like a monster. Especially when Dean looked at him, voice trembling as he blinked away the tears.

Hunkering down next to him, John ran a soothing hand over his head.

“I know it’s scary, buddy. And we don’t want to do this…” John stopped, at a loss. How did you explain to your kid he was pregnant and if they didn’t get rid of it, it would kill him. Fuck, he didn’t even know if he’d had the alpha and omega talk at school. He was only twelve, for Christ sake!

Jim laid a hand on John’s shoulder. John’s distress was filling the air. Dean, who was frightened anyway, was starting to hyperventilate at his father’s fear and anger.

“Take a walk, John.”

“Jim –“

“If you can’t control yourself, get out. This is hard enough for Dean as it is, without you making it worse. Take a five minute break, then come back. I’ll explain to De-“

John turned on him, snarling. “You’ll do no such thing. This is hard enough without some stranger telling him…” Taking a deep breath, John forced his emotions down. He was good at this. He’d damped everything down since the moment Mary burnt on the roof. He needed to be calm and collected. For Dean. Taking another breath, he closed his eyes, before opening them, and slowly turning back to Dean.

“Baby, the other day…”

John watched as Dean tensed, and his shoulders attempted to hunch in on themselves. As much as they could, given John had tied him very securely to the chair. It was safer for all of them. Jim said it would hurt. And John believed him. If there was any way he could spare Dean the pain… His poor boy couldn’t hide his flinch when John reached towards him, brushing his hair back from his face.

“Baby, I know we haven’t talked about it –“

“Don’t want to.”

John sighed. “Well, we have to. At least a little bit. The bad man put something in you, and we have to get it out.”

He could hear Jim cough behind him. What the fuck did he expect? Dean was twelve. How much sex education had the kid had, anyway?

Judging by the horrified expression, more than John had realised.

“What? When he… When… Daddy? A ba…”

Dean couldn’t get the words out, and ignoring the flinch, John wrapped Dean in his arms, pulling him close against his chest.

“It’s not a baby, Dean. It’s something that will hurt you. Pastor Jim, and Bobby and me have been looking into it, and if we don’t get it out, you’re going to die.” He ignored the small growl from the Pastor. There was no point in sugar coating it.

“But dad, if it’s…”

“There’s no discussion on this.” John barked the words. He regretted it, but couldn’t see another way. This had to happen. It was going to happen. He wasn’t going to let his son die like this.

Releasing Dean, he leant back on his haunches. Dean was shaking, lips pursed and staring over John’s shoulder.

“Are we clear, Dean?”

No response. John hardened his heart and sharpened his voice. “I said, are we clear, Dean?”

Dean nodded slightly. It was the best he was going to get. John wasn’t going to push for more. This was already more fucked up then he could imagine. Standing, he ran a gentle hand through Dean’s hair.

“It’s going to hurt, champ. But I’ll be there on the other side. Promise.”

Ignoring the sheen of tears, John walked back to the pastor. He had the ingredients ready – a nasty, viscous potion, as well as an enchanted trap. According to Bobby, even at this young age the spawn could survive. Killing it was apparently more complicated than killing a fully grown shifter, but if they trapped it they could deal with it.

And there was no way in Hell John was letting the evil thing live.

Jim looked into the cold eyes of John Winchester. He was obviously not dealing very well – and who could blame him? There wasn’t a lot of information on what happened to the carriers. And for some reason, John had decided to do the exorcism himself.

Jim tried one last time. “John, I can do the exorcism. Dean needs his…”

John cut him off. “Dean needs to know I won’t let anything else hurt him.”

He couldn’t help raising an eyebrow. “By hurting him yourself? John, please. We aren’t talking about a little pain. We’re talking-“

“I know what the deal is, Jim. You can either trust me to know what’s best for my own son, or you can get out.”

Pursing his lips, Jim nodded. He didn’t like it, but John was Dean’s father.

--oo--

Dean was shaking as John drew the symbols on Dean’s body in an inky black liquid.

“Dad.”

John concentrated on drawing them correctly, filtering out Dean’s quiet voice.

“Dad!”

Growling, he turned on his son. “What? I have to do these right, Dean, otherwise we don’t know what will happen.”

“It burns, dad.”

In fact, the symbols drawn across Dean’s belly were starting to smoke.

“Fuck,” John cursed under his breath. He quickly finished the final symbol, before looking Dean in the eye. “It’s going to hurt, Dean. And you need to be brave.”

Quickly, John sketched out a salt circle around his done before walking back to Jim and the container, John quickly drew the symbol that matched the one on Dean’s belly on the container. Placing it in the salt circle Jim had drawn, the two men stood behind it, in another salt circle.

“Maybe we shouldn’t draw one around Dean?” Jim murmured the question.

John frowned, but answered. “No. We need it corralled.”

“Well then, how is it going to…”

“For fuck’s sake, Jim! We don’t have time for this.”

Jim nodded and stepped back. He had a bad feeling about this.

--oo--

“Exo multo garbo
Reduco lingo riri
Mesu letuci colloni”

John’s voice droned on. At first Dean sat there as still as he could. The stuff on his belly burned, but the pain was no worse than other things he’d experienced. But then dad started talking.

The liquid seemed to sink into his skin, burning as it went.

“Dad!”

“Exo multo garbo
Reduco lingo riri
Mesu letuci colloni”

“Dad! Stop! Please!”

Something seemed to be punching at his stomach, punching through sinew and muscle and skin.

“Dad! Don’t hurt me! Dad- Daddy! Make it stop! Please stop! Please! Daaaaaaad!!!”

--oo--

Dean never begged. Dean was his stoic little soldier. And hearing him like this, hearing him begging and crying? It killed him.

But he didn’t stop.

--oo--

Dean didn’t pass out until the very end. Not until the thing was trapped.

Just another item to add to John’s long list of regrets over this incident: why the fuck hadn’t John listened? The thing couldn’t get out. The thing had stayed in the circle, with Dean. It threw itself towards the men, when, unable to cross the salt line, it turned back on Dean and raked at his shins and arms. It wasn’t until it clawed its way back onto Dean’s lap that Jim had sprung into action. (Why? Why couldn’t he have given in sooner? John knew it was his fault, he’d trained his brave little soldier).

How Dean had clung to consciousness, John had no idea. That would be his fault too, somehow training his twelve year old to stay conscious through unbearable pain. The worst thing was? He’d do it again in an instant. This was how you stayed alive. And John desperately wanted his boy to stay alive.

--oo--

John didn’t know what to feel as he held Dean’s bloody body in his arms. His belly was ripped and he just didn’t know what to do. John always knew what to do.

This time though, he hadn’t even waited to see if Jim had captured the thing before leaping out of his salt circle, dragging Dean into his arms.

“C’mon champ. I just need you to open your eyes. You can do that? You can do it… c’mon Dean.”

He was begging and he didn’t care. Dean’s pulse was thready and weak, and there was no way that they could fix him up here. John had never… never expected this. His face paled as he remembered the thing ripping its way out…

“Jim!”

The pastor was beside him in a second. “Jim! I… I can’t fix this. I can’t fix my little boy. What do I do?”

--oo--

The pastor had been more prepared than John, apparently. Extra bandages appeared, and he expertly wrapped Dean’s belly. John was by no means squeamish, but he couldn’t look… not without seeing his failure and inability to protect his son.

--oo--

While John was lost in his own world, Jim was busy. The clean-up team was only waiting on his word. Thank God. The place was a mess. Jim kept his gaze as focused as possible. It wasn’t that it was worse than some scenes he’d been present at. It was, however, the first where he’d seen it become like this.

And Dean.

John didn’t even look at Jim as he drew the final sealing sigil on the container that held the shifter spawn, totally wrapped up in his dying son.

--oo--

John didn’t know how they got to the hospital. He didn’t care. He didn’t care that he had alienated all the hospital staff with his angry demands, and he didn’t even care that they thought he’d done this to his son.

How, he had no idea. How do you explain those sorts of injuries? You see, Doc, a supernatural monster clawed its way out of my son. That’s why he’s ripped to shreds and possibly dying? He didn’t even try to explain it, just glared at the world while Pastor Jim gripped his arm and told some bullshit to the staff there. But that had been hours ago. So long that even John had given up pacing, throwing himself into a chair.

John sat there, hour after long hour, seemingly asleep. Jim knew that for the façade it was. Every time a nurse stuck their head in, he was on his feet, demanding to know how Dean was, where was his son, why wouldn’t anyone tell him anything!

No one knew anything. No one said anything.

Interminable hours passed, when a thought crossed John’s mind.

“Fuck! Sammy! Jim, you have to…”

Jim had an odd expression on his face. One John didn’t want to decipher. After a few moments silence, Jim cleared his throat.

“You were… you were otherwise engaged back at the site, so while I organised a clean-up crew, I also rang the parishioners Sam spent today with. They are fine with him staying a day.” Jim glanced at the door. No one had been through for at least three hours. “Or two.”

“What did you say?” John knew he was terse. Sam would know it was about his brother, and he’d be angry, and terrified. If he could, he’d get Sammy, and bring him here. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave, not without knowing if Dean would live.

“Just that there’d been an accident, and we needed to look after Dean. I do know how to hide the supernatural from civilians,” Jim chided gently.

“It’s not the civilians I’m worried about!”

Jim’s eyes widened in understanding. As he and John sat slumped in chairs at the hospital waiting room, Jim thought back to his promise to Sam.

--oo--

Eventually someone who was not a nurse came in.

Mr Frederick Wells introduced himself as Dean’s surgeon. A serious looking man, who was eyeing the two men with extreme mistrust.

Introductions were made, and a heavy silence filled the room. Finally, John couldn’t stand it.

“My boy – Dean. Is he…”

John’s voice cracked. Dean had to be alive. The doctor would have said something already. He would have to…

--oo--

Mr Wells removed his glasses from his face, and slowly cleaned them. Examining them, he put them back on his face and looked again at the two men. The father, John Winchester, he recalled, looked ready to kill him. The other man held the father in a restraining grip. Frowning, the surgeon considered. Dean’s injuries were… he didn’t even know how to describe them. It was like something had cut him from the inside. It was disturbing. And no one had been able to explain it.

The hospital staff felt like the father was somehow involved, but no one could prove anything. No one even could even offer an explanation as to what had happened. And unfortunately, having a bad feeling wasn’t enough. This man was the boy’s legal guardian, and as such entitled to the information.

Heaving a sigh, he spoke. “Although he is currently stable, Dean’s injuries are very grave.”

--oo--

He paused again and looked at the two men. John felt like punching him. Of course the injuries were fucking grave! John held his son’s body as he almost bled out. The only thing giving him any semblance of control was the fact that the surgeon was here talking which meant Dean was alive. This guy appeared to be John’s only chance of finding out what was going on!

--oo--

Mr Wells watched dispassionately as the father’s fists bunched. The other man laid a hand on him, but Wells was well versed in reading people. It wasn’t that hand holding him back.

He… he cares about his son, Wells realised. That was… unexpected. The nursing staff had all been convinced that the father had done something, and then felt remorse and brought the boy to hospital.

It wasn’t unheard of for alpha fathers to have… issues… with their omega sons. And John Winchester certainly fit the profile.

But.

The injuries were… different. Wells was well versed in omega injuries, and had spent hours attempting to stabilise the boy. He knew as much about the boys injuries as anyone and he still had no idea what had happened.

Narrowing his eyes, he looked at the two men, who looked back. Well, there was no point in holding back. He was legally obliged to inform the man about the health of his child. Even if he didn’t trust him.

“I’m sorry for the delay. Dean was… as I said, Dean was gravely injured. He has required large amounts of blood, and was revived twice on the operating table.”

Wells watched as John Winchester’s face turned pale. For the first time, he held on to the other man. “He died?”

“He was revived. We don’t believe there will be any issues with brain damage. However…” the doctor paused. If John Winchester had harmed his child as the nursing staff thought, he would react here. Wells carefully school his features. “However his reproductive system is compromised. His omega glands were affected. In a fully developed omega…” The doctor coughed. “Dean will never properly present. His scent glands have been destroyed and he won’t be able to identify – or be identified by – his mate. Also… internal damage was extensive, and we have removed his uterus.”

John hadn’t reacted, just kept steady eyes on the doctor. Who continued.

“He’ll never live as an omega – his entire sexual and reproductive system have been compromised. He’ll have no ability to bear children. He’s had his first heat,” (John growled, but Wells ignored it), “But immature pups – alpha or omega – don’t come into the maturity for a few years. That means…” he trailed off. It was hard to explain to someone who didn’t know anatomy. “That means although his hormone production started, a single heat is not enough to mature a young omega. That generally takes some years. Because of the damage, Dean’s body isn’t able to produce the omega hormones, so his body won’t develop. Although some of this can be mitigated with hormone therapy, I wouldn’t recommend it immediately. He will need them at some stage, although now his body is going to have enough trouble repairing itself from this.”

--oo--

John scowled. It was all medical shit. Why wouldn’t the man get to the fucking point. “What are you saying? How does this affect Dean?”

“He’ll effectively be a beta, Mr Winchester, although all his medical history will still say…”

John cut him off with a snort. “Dr Wells, I’ve never cared about my boy’s gender. Alpha, beta, omega, alien. I’ve never paid attention and I’m not going to now. I didn’t even know until recently,” John cut himself off, but Wells couldn’t control his eyebrow rise. That was interesting…

“Point is I didn’t care before and I don’t care now, as long as my boy is ok.”

His voice had been rising as he spoke, and John had enough going on without putting the one person who would tell him anything offside. He lowered his voice, and asked again. “Is Dean ok?”

Something softened in the doctor’s face, and John realised belatedly they thought he had done something to Dean. Scrubbing a hand over his face, John sighed tiredly. He could see their point, but he’d been there for 16 hours. He was tired and angry and (though he hated to admit it) scared.

“You said he’s stable?”

“Yes. He is in the ICU. He hasn’t regained consciousness, and we don’t expect that for at least 48 hours. He is on antibiotics and painkillers. And he is in traction. He has… many… stitches. He’ll always have substantial marking, particularly in his abdominal region.”

John ignored that. The number didn’t matter. And hunters got scarred as a matter of course. “Is he out of danger? Can we see him?”

The doctor thought about it for a minute. “Yes. Please remember though, he isn’t awake. And he doesn’t look good, he’s-“

John couldn’t help snapping. “Take me to my son.”

--oo--

Dean looked worse than John had imagined. And he hadn’t imagined anything good. He was bruised and covered in scratches that looked like they would bloom with infection. John longed to cleanse them with holy water, but he couldn’t with the doctor standing there.

Wires and tubes and cords connected Dean to the machines that were keeping him alive.

John couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t stay in the room and he couldn’t leave.

He compromised by walking to the door. The doctor and Pastor Jim followed him.

“Is he going to be ok?”

“Mr Winchester, we don’t know. While we are doing the best we can, he isn’t out of the danger zone. We have to watch for infection, and make sure there wasn’t… damage we missed when we repaired his abdominals. Even his altered hormonal status may present some danger.”

John snarled. “You said that didn’t matter. That hormone therapy later would fix it.” No. that wasn’t quite right. “You said… you said he wouldn’t present? Is that going to cause a problem?”

“At this stage we don’t know. As I said, his body needs to heal, but hormonal imbalances could cause severe health problems as he ages. I would suggest finding yourself a specialist with experience in omega trauma. At the very least, your son will need to take supplements of some sort. Possibly hormone shots too. At this stage, though, there is no way to tell how this will affect Dean specifically. I do urge you to find a regular doctor though.”

Even as the doctor spoke the words, John was dismissing them. And hormone treatment? Regardless of what John wanted (or Dean needed), there was no way they could ever afford that. They’d find another way to deal with it. Get back on the road.

“There is no way my family can afford that,” John informed him bluntly. “So let’s assume Dean won’t get any supplements. How does that change things?”

The doctor fought back a sigh. It wasn’t like that was a surprise. Nothing about the Winchesters lead him to believe they had any spare money. Dean was covered with old scars – things that could have easily been dealt with by a doctor.

“I don’t know, Mr Winchester. And you won’t know until Dean gets older. The range of symptoms are wide ranging, and very individual.”

John just stared at him. The doctor twitched, but continued. “As I have told you, Dean’s injuries are serious. But, based on the best available knowledge, they won’t kill him. He may experience extreme mood swings, as his body chemistry fights to stabilise. His growth may be stunted, he may experience heat like effects, including pain, and need, but he won’t have an actual heat. He won’t produce slick, pheromones. That’s physical. Of course there are potentially psychological impacts - not being an omega, but still retaining some of those omega needs. He will probably still be attracted to alphas, but unable to attract one, given his omega glands have been extensively damaged. Even without the use of extended hormone treatment, if you can get a doctor and work with him for the next six to twelve months, that could significantly alleviate future symptoms.”

The doctor kept talking, but John tuned him out. It made sense. Hit the problem in the first six months, and hopefully mitigate what happened down the track. But that would mean staying in one place, which wasn’t happening. Of course they would wait for Dean to heal enough to be on the move, but getting back on the road would be the best for everyone. Get Dean back in training, as soon as he was able. That way Dean wouldn’t be able to dwell on what had happened. Not that he would even understand.

“Fuck!” The doctor didn’t even wince at the language. He would have heard worse in his time.

“How do I explain this to my little boy?” John demanded. The doctor’s expression showed some sympathy, but other than that he said nothing. Quickly, John went over what the doctor had said. Dean would (hopefully) be healthy, and he’d have some hormone issues. Nothing that would stop them in their quest. But he’d never be whole. Never a proper omega. Still, “It might be for the best anyway,” he thought out loud. “Not being able to attract or scent his mate. Even in these times, I can’t imagine an alpha wanting a broken omega.”

Caught up in their own thoughts, no one noticed the scared little boy in the bed, listening intently to every word.



to part 3