mamapranayama | Missing Pieces, 7/8

A/N: I just wanted to say thanks for sticking with this story and for all of the comments y'all have shared with me, I appreciate it. There is only one chapter left after this.

Chapter 7

“I’m coming with.” Sam insisted, tossing his bag into the back seat moments before Dean could start the engine and take off.

Dean still didn’t like the lack of color in Sam’s face and the deep, dark circles under his eyes, and while he would be grateful for his brother's company to distract him from all of the fightening thoughts running through his head, he felt the need to protect him from getting sick again after the latest ordeal he had been through.

“You still look like a Thriller extra, Sam. Maybe you should stay here with Bobby and get some more rest."

“No … “Sam opened the passenger side door and climbed in, slammed the door shut behind him and turned worried eyes towards Dean. “I need to go …“He’s my dad too, Dean. And I need to see him in case he --”

In case he dies? Dean thought to himself, Not gonna happen – not now.

“Okay, fine. But, you better get some sleep on the way.”

Dean drove like the devil himself was on their tail, chewing up the miles far faster than the law allowed while Sam gripped the armrest on the door and hung on, far from getting any of the rest his brother ordered him to get. He pushed the limits of the car and made it to the Casper city limits by that afternoon.

Leading the way into the hospital, Sam followed close behind Dean as he went straight to the reception desk and asked where he could find their father.

The receptionist kindly told them that he was in the cardiac intensive care unit on the third floor and Dean really didn’t like the sound of that—intensive care was where the put the sickest patients, wasn’t it? He swallowed down the fear building in his chest and once again led the way. Sam shadowed Dean closely until they were nearing his father’s room and stopped short of the door.
Dean turned and saw that his brother had gone pale and looked like he might lose his lunch.

“Maybe I should wait out here for now.”

“What? Why?”

“Dad just had a heart attack, Dean. I dunno -- maybe it was a bad idea for me to come. What if seeing me just makes things worse and stresses him out …”

Dean sighed, feeling his anxiousness give way to annoyance, “Dammit, Sam. You came all of this way to see the man and now you’re gonna chicken out? Did you ever think that maybe seeing you might actually make him feel better? That if you two somehow stopped being stubborn assholes for once and forgave each other then you both might be able to get over some of the crap that’s been keeping you guys apart, huh? Trust me Sam … he’s so much like you it’s scary and he’s been wanting to see you for a very long time, but he’s been coming up with the exact same excuses you have for staying away and I’m sick of it quite frankly.”

Dean felt some of his anger fade as he saw Sam’s eyes glisten and jaw clench while he attempted to keep his emotions from spilling out. From behind of him, Dean heard the door to his father’s room open and he quickly turned around to find a tall, blond man wearing flannel and blue jeans step from the room.

“Thought I heard voices –" The newcomer stated as he approached the brothers and grinned. “Good to see you Dean, “ he stated as he shook the duo’s hands individually, “you too, Sam. It's been a while... and damn, do you ever stop growing?”

"Hey, Caleb." Sam returned the greeting.

“How is he?” Dean needed to know.

Caleb’s face dimmed a little, “Well – doctors are saying that he had a moderate heart attack – he's stable and doing okay right now, but they want to do a procedure to unblock some of the arteries to his heart with a catheter or something like that in about an hour or two. Sorry, I’m not the best at digesting whatever language it was the doctors were speaking, but that’s the gist of what I heard.”

“So … he’s okay?” Dean asked, feeling more than a little relieved. All the way out to Wyoming Dean had visions of his father lying in a coma or worse. “Is he awake?”

“Yes and yes. He’s a little groggy from the medications, but he’ll be glad to see you – both of you.” He added, eying Sam.

“What happened anyway, Caleb? Dad was fine when he left.”

“I dunno. We were about to go out and take down a witch we’ve been tracking for the last few weeks when he suddenly got all sweaty and just collapsed."

Dean nodded, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his father had been felled by something as mundane and normal as a heart attack. He knew John Winchester was the toughest hunter he would ever know, but he wasn’t indestructible. Howeved, he had never expected this.

“Well, boys … I think I need a refill on my coffee, so I’ll take off for a bit and let you guys see your dad.” Caleb said, giving Dean and Sam a chance to see their father in private.

“Thanks, Caleb.” Dean said before Caleb started to leave.

“I’ll be back later.”

Sam and Dean stood together and looked at the closed door to their father’s room. Dean took the first step forward for the door while Sam hung back for moment, “You coming?”

“Yeah … just give me a minute. You go on ahead.”

Dean eyed Sam, who gave him an anxious look and he understood then that Sam needed a moment to compose himself before going in – seeing their father again wasn’t going to be easy.

“’kay.” Dean agreed, then opened the door and walked into the room.

Dean fought a wave of fear that coursed through him seeing his father laying on the bed, hooked up to a heart monitor. He was far too pale and his dark hair and beard only made the contrast all that more prominent.

His father had his eyes lightly closed, but Dean could tell he wasn’t asleep and was fully aware that he was in the room. “Dad?”

“Hey, Dean.” John opened his eyes tiredly.

“How’re feeling?”

“Been better, but I’ll survive.”

Dean approached the bed and took a seat in the chair that sat next to it. “A heart attack, Dad? God … it’s just so … weird.”

His father grinned a little, “Stranger things have happened.”

Dean felt a little more at ease seeing his father’s smile, “Guess this means we’ll have to lay off all of the greasy burger and taco joints for a while.”

“Yeah,” His father agreed, pointing to an uneaten salad on the rollaway table next to him, "The doctors are already trying make me eat that rabbit food crap.”

“Well, whatever it takes to get you 100% again, we’ll do it. Even if it means eating salads,“ Dean winced a little at the thought.

“I suppose, but I still wouldn’t mind a big slice of pizza right now.”

Dean chuckled and patted his father’s shoulder. That’s when Dean noticed that John's gaze had shifted towards the door and his grin faded. Dean turned and saw his brother standing in the door, hesitant to come in.

John whispered hopefully, “Sammy?”

OOOOOO

The moment John had felt that first spike of pain in his chest early that morning, he didn’t think much of it, but as the pain grew worse, his vision dimmed and he neared unconsciousness, he recalled the last thoughts that had been running through his head – how he regretted all of the mistakes he had made by putting his pride before telling Sam how sorry he was and how he would die with his son thinking that he didn’t love him anymore. But the truth was that maybe John loved him a little too much … so much so that letting him go was such a frightening aspect that John’s fear of him setting out on his own without him around to protect him had come out as anger.

He recalled how just before everything went dark and he was uncertain if he would ever wake again how he prayed for one last chance to see Sam and tell him all of the things he should have told him long ago.

And now, here he was … standing in his door. It was nothing short of a miracle, if John believed in those things.

Sam hesitated for a moment without moving then cautiously entered the room. “Dad?”

“Sam.” John called to his youngest child from his bed softly and beckoned him over.

Slowly, Sam ventured in and walked up to John’s bed. He limped slightly in a way that was only noticeable to those who knew him and John was struck again with a pang of guilt. He hadn’t been there for his son through his injury – Dean and Bobby had taken up that mantle of responsibility when it should have been John.

Sam stopped at the foot of the bed uncomfortably without saying a word.

John turned to his eldest son, “Dean, you think you could give Sam and me a few minutes?”

Dean nodded, watching them both uneasily as if he expected a fight to break out at any moment, “Fine, I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

Dean got up from the chair, keeping a wary eye on his brother and father until he was out the door and closing it, but leaving it open a crack just in case.

“Sam … I uh …” John had so much to say, but he suddenly didn’t know where to begin. He cleared his throat and started over, “Last time I saw you, we had quite a fight, huh?”

“That’s a bit of an understatement.” Sam sighed in a husky voice, keeping his distance.

“Look … I know you’re still angry with me, I get that and you have every right to be. But, I just want you to know that I’m not perfect. I’ve made some pretty big mistakes raising you and your brother -- I know that. But the biggest mistake I ever made was letting you think that you weren’t welcome in this family. I was ... I was wrong. And if this –“ John tapped his chest just over his heart, “ is telling me anything, it’s saying that it’s for me to stop being an ass and start being a better father.”

Sam was quiet, swallowing hard, his eyes glistening with barely restrained emotion. He cast his gaze down, breaking eye contact with John.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is … I’m sorry. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you, especially after what happened to you and I want to change that. I should have changed that long ago."

John wasn't a crybaby, but he felt his eyes starting to mist, "You think we could start over? ”

Sam’s head came up after he said that, “Dad I …”

“You don’t have to forgive me, Sam, I’m not asking for that. I just want you to know how I feel ‘cause life is short and I’ve already wasted too much of it. I was just so scared for you ... and too stubborn to admit it.”

Sam stood frozen, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, his emotions warring wihtin him. For a moment, John was certain that his youngest son was going to reject this truce between them, that the damage done to their relationship was too great to be rebuilt.

There was silence in the room for several moments before Sam's spoke out softly, “You know I uh … I haven’t exactly been the perfect son either, Dad. I’ve practically spent my whole life being angry with you and honestly, I’m not sure if I can change those feelings overnight and there are some things that I'm still angry about. But, you're my dad..."

Sam's eyes glistened and his voice grew husky, "And I’m willing to try if you are, but you have to be willing to accept that I have my own plans in life.”

John felt his throat constrict and he smiled even as tears filled his eyes and began to spill unashamed down his face, “I can try ... I can do that.”

Sam nodded, unable to answer as he tried to hold his own tears at bay.

“C’mere, Sammy.” John held out his arms and Sam came to his father, bent over and allowed himself to be engulfed in a tight hug. John held on and ran a hand through his son’s dark, shaggy hair in a way he hadn’t been able to in years and he felt a wetness seep into his hospital gown from the tears Sam cried into his shoulder.

OOOOOO

Dean paced back and forth in the hall. Sam and their father had been in the room for quite a while now and while he hadn’t heard any raised voices coming from inside, it was hard to resist the urge to barge in and check on them.

After 10 minutes of waiting in the hall however, Dean was getting restless and was no longer able to keep away. But, when he quietly opened the door and peered inside, he did a double take.

Sam was sitting in the chair next to the bed with his back to the door while his father lay back against his raised pillow wiping his eyes and talking quietly to his brother.

Talking? … Crying?

Dean wondered for a moment if he had slipped into The Twilight Zone.

Unconsciously Dean smiled, glad that those two appeared have worked something out between them. Without alerting them to his eavesdropping, he backed up into the hallway again and almost ran right into Caleb, nearly spilling the coffee in his hand.

“Whoa.”

“Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

“No problem, but you’re lucky I didn’t spill my coffee or I might have had to kill you, kid.” Caleb joked, “Damn thing cost me almost five bucks at that fancy shop across the street. It tastes like ass, but it’s got enough caffeine in it to power a small town.”

“I think I could use some of that – either that or a fifth of Jack.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s been a long day,” Caleb gestured to his father’s room with his head, “How’s he doing?”

“He’s okay.” Dean replied, looking at the closed door, “He’s with Sam right now.”

“I’m sure those two have a lot to talk about,” Caleb said, “How ‘bout you and me go to the cafeteria, I’ll get you some coffee.”

Dean agreed and followed Caleb down a floor to the hospital’s cafeteria and grabbed a large to-go cup of coffee then sat with the older hunter at a small booth next to a window that looked out across the parking lot.

As soon as they sat, Caleb’s phone began to ring, “Hello? … Yes, this is Agent Roberts … when? … Who was he? … okay, I’ll be there in a little while to take a look … thanks.”

“What’s going on?” Dean asked while Caleb scowled deeply.

“Your Dad and I were posing as FBI while tracking this witch down. She’s been leaving a trail of bodies wherever she goes and I asked the coroner to call me if they had any new unusual deaths. That was him, telling me that they have another body in the morgue -- a body-builder in his twenties, perfectly healthy one day – dead the next, riddled with cancerous tumors.”

“This fits the witch’s MO?” Dean asked.

“To a ‘T’… she likes to take people at the height of their fitness, especially competitive atheltes, and takes them out with diseases that should take months or years to kill someone. Our first vic was a high school football star that dies of Lou Gehrig's disease overnight. then we had a marathon runner that keeled over from diabetes even though she had a full physical only a week before and showed no sign of the disease.Vials of some kind of liquid were found with each of the victims, but the tests the medical examiner ran on them showed them to be nothing more than a combination of herbs and, disgustingly enough, human blood. The ME of course, doesn't think the stuff could have killed them, but we're prety certain that witchcaraft was involved.“

“So, you think she gave them some kind of potion?”

“That’s what we figured. And we think we might have tracked her down, but we hadn't confirmed that yet. Your dad got sick before we got the chance to check her out like we planned to do. And now we have another possible victim.”

Dean gulped, putting the facts of the case together, “You think this witch could have had something to do with Dad’s heart attack?”

Caleb paused as if he had considered it, “I don’t know … I don’t think she knew we were on to her, but it’s possible. “ Caleb sighed and shook his head remorsefully, “But, sometimes these things just happen too, Dean. Your Dad’s not exactly a young man anymore. I know he’s not old, but you know as well as me that he doesn’t take the best care of himself sometimes and the stress of the job--"

Dean cut his friend off, overcome with the need to protect his father, “But she could be behind this – she could still be after Dad. We need to hunt this bitch down before she tries again.”

OOOOO

Dean found his brother sitting alone in his father’s hospital room. “Where’s Dad?” He asked concerned at seeing the bed had been wheeled out.

“It’s okay, Dean. The doctors came to take him for that catheterization procedure. He probably won’t be back for a couple of hours,”

Sam took in the worry and fear on Dean’s face, “What’s going on?”

“We got a problem. Dad and Caleb were hunting down a witch who is still on the loose and there’s a chance that she did this to Dad. We’re going out to stop her.”

Sam stood up from the chair, “What ?… you’re going after her? Now?”

“People are dying, Sam. I have to. Especially if she's gunning for Dad.”

Sam heard the seriousness of the situation in his brother’s voice and couldn’t stop the next words from tumbling out of his mouth, “I’ll come with you. I can help.”

“No. Look ... it's just a witch, Caleb and I can handle it on our own and we'll be in and out in an hour or two.”

“Dean, if you’re right and she did this to Dad, then you and Caleb could use all of the back-up you can get.”

“I said ‘no’, Sam. Stay here and keep an eye on Dad, that’s how you can help.”

“Is this because you don’t think I can do it anymore? " Sam let his fear for his brother heading out into danger morph into frustration over the fact that his brother saw him as too handicapped to lend a hand, "Because I’m missing a fucking leg?”

Dean’s face betrayed the fact that Sam had hit the nail on the head, but he stood his ground, “Just stay here, okay?” Dean reached behind him and pulled the handgun he always had stashed in his waistband out and handed it off to him, “I've got my phone on, so call me if you have any problems here, got it?”

Sam sighed and took the weapon. They could argue back and forth all day and Sam would still lose, “Fine … But, the same goes for you. If you and Caleb run into trouble, call me. I may not be the fastest runner, but I can still point and shoot.”

Dean grudgingly nodded, then was out the door.

OOOOOO

Caleb explained more of the case to Dean as they left the hospital and headed out to the car. He and his father had narrowed their search down to a house in town that all of the victims had been seen visiting. According to some of the friends of the victims they had interviewed, the occupant of the home was a black market drug dealer that supplied much of the town not only with hard drugs like heroin and meth, but was also known in many circles to provide performance enhancing drugs – the kind of drugs that might draw healthy athletes to her door. Somehow she had managed to stay under the radar of the police and ran her operation without drawing their suspicion.

As Dean drove the two of them across town, they drew up a hasty plan.

It was rather simple really—

Dean was a young man and well built, he could pass for an athlete looking for a score and since he hadn’t been involved with the case until that afternoon, she wouldn’t have any idea who he was. So it made sense that he would be the one to gain entry to the home and once he had the bitch cornered and confirmed that she was using the dark arts to hurt people, he would give a signal and Caleb would come in so they could finish the job.

Easy peasy, lemon squeezy, Dean told himself confidently as he pulled the car off the road and parked it about a block away. He shut off the engine and got out at the same time as Caleb then pulled out his phone and dialed Caleb's cell.

Caleb answered the phone, bringing it to his ear as Dean pocketed his own and left it on. "Can you hear me now?" He asked.

Caleb rolled his eyes a little, "Yeah, kid. I can hear you even through the pocket."

"Good ... then let's do this."

Dean made sure his weapons were all well hidden as they cautiously approached the house. Dean went ahead to the front door while Caleb snuck around the side of the house and took cover in the overgrown bushes alongside the home. Once in place and out of sight from anyone inside the house, Caleb nodded to Dean that he was ready.

Dean soon reached the door then reached up and knocked solidly on the wood door. It was a good three minutes before he heard the lock unlatch and then saw the door open a crack. Two suspicious eyes met his and looked at him questioningly.

“Uh … hi there….” Dean waved with his most charming smile.

“What do you want?” A dark- haired, middle-aged woman behind the door asked in a raspy voice while smoking a Marlboro Red. She clearly was not impressed with him, thowing him off his game a little.

“I uh … I heard from some guys at my gym that you … ya know … sell stuff.” Dean told the woman with a wink.

“Stuff?” She asked cooly with hard eyes through the door's security chain, “What kind of ‘stuff’ are you talking about?”

Dean leaned in conspiratorially, “I think you know. I got this competition next week and I ...”

The door slammed in his face before he could finish.

“Crap.” He deflated, thinking that they were going to have to do things the hard way until he heard the chain of the door slide and it opened all of the way.

“Come in.” She ordered then led him into the house. Dean tried not to choke on the thick cigarette smoke that wafted in his direction as she brought him into her kitchen.

Dean saw right away the tell-tale signs of witchcraft strewn about the place. There were hex-bags on the table next to an open book of Latin spells and she even had a freaking alter with an upside down pentagram displayed over it in the far corner of the room. If she was trying to hide the fact that she was a witch, then she wasn't doing a very good job of it.

She didn't seem too concerned about it though as she leaned back on the counter by the sink and pulled a long drag from her cigarette.

He could feel the heat of her eyes on him as she assessed him from head to toe and Dean got distinct impression that she didn't like him much. Dean casually stuck his hands into his jacket pockets, and felt for the cell phone he had hidden in there that was on the line with Caleb. He could only hope that the other hunter was still listening in as he spoke the signal that let him know that he had confirmed that she was a witch and to come in : "Nice place you got here." He said.

She looked at him like he was stupid and snorted, "This shithole? Right ..." She took another deep inhale from her cigarette, "So what are looking for exactly, HGH? GHB? Roids? What?”

“Ya know … something that won't show up in a pee test and will make me look like Arnold Swarzenegger as fast as possible.” Dean replied, trying to stall her long enough for Caleb to get inside."But Conan Arnold ... not governator Arnold -- he's gotten a little flabby lately ...

“You want fast, do you? Well … that costs extra.”

“I can pay.”

“You sure will.” She came back, her eyes darkening and suddenly Dean felt a chill pass over him. He was starting to get a bad feeling in his gut about this one. She pointed to a chair at the kitchen table, “Sit.”

Dean didn’t really want to sit, but he suddenly felt compelled to do as she said and sat down in the chair.

“I know what you really want ...” She sauntered over to the table and leaned over the table towards him and locked her eyes on his. He wanted to look away, but found that he couldn’t, in fact he couldn't move at all, his muscles failing to obey the orders of his brain.

She was a much stronger witch than any he had encountered before and he could feel her power holding him down tight.

Oh shit ... play it cool, Dean ... play it cool ...

“Oh yeah?” He replied, trying to keep himself from gulping audibly, “What’s that?”

“To kill me.” She smiled, took another drag from her cigarette then blew the smoke in his face, “Isn’t that what all of you hunters want to do to my kind?”

Dean felt like grabbing his gun right then and there, he couldn’t move anything except for his eyes and face muscles. He was frozen in place.

Crap ... so much for this being an easy hunt. Hopefully, Caleb had heard what was going on and was on his way to gank the bitch any moment before thing got too out of hand.

“Oh come now, did you really think you and your friend could just waltz in here? I haven't lasted three centuries just to fall for your games andI could smell the reek of a hunter on you as you darkened my door.” She stood upright and her eyes flashed to the hall and she called out, “You too, Mr. Hunter. I know you’re out there, might as well come in and join us.”

From the corner of his eye, Dean saw Caleb walk haltingly into the kitchen, his rifle dropping from his hand and clattering to the floor apparently against his own will, “Take a seat.” She demanded with a hiss.

Dean saw sweat break out on Caleb’s face as he fought whatever power she held over him, but he couldn’t fight it hard enough and was in the chair across from Dean a moment later, seemingly just as frozen in place as he was.

“Why are you doing this?” Dean managed to get out through clenched teeth, “Why did you kill those people?”

She laughed, tossed her cigarette to the floor and smashed it with her foot, ”Ohhh … I didn’t kill them, they killed themselves.”

The witch shrugged and feighned innocence with a grin while continuing her monologue, “Look, I just try to run a business here. They came to me and paid me for my formula. I only gave them what they wanted -- a leg up over their competition that wouldn’t be detected by any drug screens. They knew full well that what I was giving them was created by a power they didn’t understand and could possibly be dangerous. I tell each of my clients the exact dosage they need to take and I can’t help it if they're stupid and don’t follow my instructions. Those idiot jocks did this to themselves when they saw how much faster or stronger my potion made them ard they decided to take more than should have. Those dumbasses thought that an extra dose or two would make them winners and give them that extra little edge, but it they had only listened to me, then they wouldn’t have accelerated whatever latent diseases were hiding in their genes. Besides, they would died from those diseases eventually and it’s not my fault they were the morons that made them kick in sooner and kill 'em faster.”

Dean wished he had his hands free so he could throttle her, “What about my dad? What did you do to him?”

“Your father? I have no idea who your father is. If he didn’t buy any of my goods then I did nothing to him.”

“Right ..." Dean snorted disbelievingly, "You didn’t give him a heart attack? Why should I believe you, bitch?”

“Boy, how can such a pretty mouth say such ugly things?" She snarled, then added, "I have no need to lie to you -- I have you right where I want and since neither one of you is leaving this place alive, why shouldn't I tell you the truth?”

She turned and walked over to a drawer, opened it and then pulled out a large, sharp knife. She caressed it in her hands and played with it tauntingly as she sauntered back to her captives with an angry, dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Now ... since you both were so kind to drop in, let’s say we have a little fun, huh?”

To Be Continued ...

( Chapter 8 and Epilogue )