Hey to you,
first of all thanks to all that made my story favorite or put it on story alert. That's so encouraging!
This one's about Bobby patching up Dean, and it's relatively short. Next one will be longer, and there will be more hurt!Dean, so stay tuned!
Please R&R! Thanks!A strong, rough hand caught his wrist just as he was about to bring it down once more, and yanked him around.
He stood face to face to Bobby Singer, who had a nauseated look in his bright eyes. „Get. The. Hell. Outta. My. House. NOW!" His voice trembled with held back emotions, anger and hate and shock whirling around in it.
John's shoulders slouched and he dropped the belt from his suddenly weak hand. Without a further word he turned and fled through the frontdoor.
Bobby dropped to his knees next to Dean who whimpered softly, almost inaudible. „Easy boy, he's gone now. Stay put, I wanna take a look at the blows first."
„S-Sammy..." Dean mumbled and pointed a shaken finger to the kitchen.
„Oh my god, John, you didn't..." Bobby rose and lunged for the door, almost being knocked down by Sam who darted out the instant the door was opened.
„DEAN!" He threw himself down next to his brother, sobbing carelessly. „That bastard! What did he do?" His voice squeaked.
„Sam, please go get some hot water and clean towels." Bobby knew he had to get the younger boy occupied to be able to take care of Dean. The older Winchester would never show his pain in front of his brother, and Bobby didn't want to put him in a situation that would compromize him.
„Damn it, John". Bobby hissed as he gently pulled the shreds from the shirt off Dean's torn back. The older hunter must have hit him at least ten or twelve times, counting the gashes in the skin. Bobby winced in sympathy as Dean clenched his teeth, making them grind. „It's o-okay, Bobby. Just give me a s-second." Dean's shaky voice was weak, filled with a pain he tried to suppress, and another wave of pity washed through Bobby. He had known that John wasn't too soft with his boys, but he had never seen him beat one of them so hard. His heart contracted as he saw the brave look in Dean's emerald eyes when Sam returned from the kitchen, spilling water from the bowl he held in his trembling hands. John, you son-of-a-bitch, why did you put so much onto this kid's shoulders!
He took the scissors Sam had brought wisely and carefully cut away the pieces of Dean's shirt, trying no to touch the wounds on his back.
„Dean, he'll be very sorry for that", bubbled out of Sam as he gently grabbed for a bloodspattered hand and squeezed it slightely.
Bobby felt Dean tension under his hands. „No! Sammy, you stay away from him! He was just drunk, he didn't know what he did. It's my fault, anyway."
The old hunter who had begun to clean the gashes on Dean's back stiffened as he heard the boy excuse his father. Damn it, John, what did you do to him? You just beat the crap outta him, and he knows nothing else but to defend you. You just don't deserve him! Bobby had to swallow down the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. He had always wondered what it would have been like if Dean had been his child, not John's. He couldn't have loved the kid more, especially since John had denied him his childhood, making him care for his brother, putting a burden onto the fragile shoulders of the four-year-old-boy that had been to much to bear for the kid. Bobby's heart had flown to the shy, mute kid with his long blonde hair and that deep green eyes that had seen too much for a boy of his age the first day John had appeared on his yard. Bobby then had noticed that John couldn't really stand the sight of his older boy, that he almost never looked at Dean's face, whereby he played and joked with Sammy until the baby happily laughed and chuckled. Bobby and Dean had made a fast bond, the four-year-old following the old hunter at every turn.
„No!" Sam almost screamed the word and looked startled at his brother as Dean winced with the intensity in the teenager's voice. „I mean – how could it have been your fault, Dean! He hit me, and you protected me! You did nothing to upset him! I- I never would have thought..." His voice faded, and new tears welled up in his hazel eyes.
„Okay, son, we now get you up so you can lie down onto the couch, you ready?" Bobby interrupted and stared at Sam to quieten him. Dean nodded into the carpet and couldn't help but yelp when he pushed himself up.
Sam and Bobby grabbed his arms and settled him gently onto the soft cushions. Dean buried his head in them when Bobby opened the bottle with the antiseptic agent. He worked fast, efficient, tightening his heart against the sucked-in breath and the small moans that espaced the cushion Dean had his face pressed firmly into, and nodded to Sam to put on the gauze bandages when he was finished.
Dean took in a deep breath when he felt the burning pain subside slowly. „Hey, dude, it looks worse than it is", he lied to Sam and strechted out a still trembling hand.
Sam cradled it in his and met his brother's gaze. „That wasn't the first time Dad hit you like this, right? I- I never made a connection to the streams on your back before, but now..." His voice broke once more, and he cleared his throat before he could go on. „He did beat you, yeah?"
Dean bit his lower lip and looked musing at the teenager. He sighed. The intensity in Sam's hazel eyes seemed to tear down the walls he had build up since his father had laid a hand on him the first time. „Huh, you're right. But he never beat me without a reason, so I guess it was justified. I mean – we're not normal kids, right? One mistake, and people will die. He just made his point clear." He stopped and closed his eyes.
Bobby laid a big hand on Sam's shoulder. „I think you should get some fresh air now, son. And watch out if that father of your's is coming back. Dean should rest now."
At first, it seemed that Sam wanted to refuse the plea of the older man, but then he stood up abruptly and nodded, leaving the room without a further word.
The old hunter sat next to Dean. „First of all, Dean – this was so not your fault. How could it be? You protected Sammy, right? So – what should ever be wrong about that!"
Dean didn't move, and Bobby was about to rise, inwardly cursing that frigging Winchester stubborness, when the boy finally opened his eyes again. „Nothing's wrong about protecting Sammy. That's my job. But – disobeying a direct order from Dad was. And so the beating was my fault." He clammed his eyes shut once more.
Bobby stared at him, wondering how a person could be so messed up in his head without ending in an asylum. Oh, John, you really screwed that kid! „If you wanna talk ´bout it, boy, go on." Bobby wasn't quite sure how to place the words and was about to let Dean rest, when the younger one opened his eyes again and fixed Bobby. „Please stay", he said in a small voice that broke Bobby's heart. „I didn't want Sammy to hear it, ´cause he would hate Dad afterwards..."
Bobby lowered himself down to the chair and felt the lump in his throat again, not sure what he had done to earn Dean's trust. He looked at the younger one as he started to speak, eyes directed at the past.