This revised thanks to my beta.. yeah I have one know she's great. A big thanks to you kirallie.
Dad never told us what he did those days after cold oaks. Those sad filled days after Uncle Sam died. J.B. still shudders when he thinks back.
The laughter that used to fill this house is gone now. Replaced by such overwhelming grief. He feels like he is suffocating here at Bobby's.
Nothing gets his mind off the pain. His girlfriend dumped him 'cos he was going all 'angst' on her. His freaking dad just died how the hell he was supposed to act.
All Uncle Bobby and Sam do is drink. So does his mom. He sees how she tries to hide the whiskey on her breath. How she tries to hide what she is drinking but he knows what she is doing.
Her lavender eyes that were once bright and full of life are now blank with pain. That scares him more than he would like to admit. He does not see her get angry. He has to wonder why that is.
His thirteenth birthday comes and goes there's no party or presents. He does not care he would rather have his dad anyway. He misses his dad's husky laugh that is deep in his chest.
His contagious smile. His heart breaks for his mom. She cries every night when she thinks no one can hear her. He hears her. He hears her cause Uncle Bobby is too far gone and Uncle Sam no longer cares. Uncle Sam used to care though. Sam was there to catch his mom when she fell. That was weeks ago.
It is so lonely in this house. So close to the outside world yet closed off at the same time. Set apart by the walls of cars, wards and protection symbols. His mom speaks softly to him now.
Just a mere whisper of how she used to. He is the only one she does speak to. When she does it's hoarse with disuse. Her tinkling laugh is gone, it died with his dad. Uncle Sam cannot look at him anymore.
He says to Bobby, when he thinks he cannot hear, "He just looks too much like Dean." His voice is full of pain. He takes the time to look in the mirror one day. He is shocked by the face that is staring back at him.
Moss green eyes reflected the pain his heart felt. Short dirty blonde hair spiked just like his dad's. Freckles scattered across his nose.
The realization hits him like a brick, he is a younger version of his dad. Something comes over him in that moment.
He is just so damn angry he needs to hit and break something. He doesn't even realize he has clenched his fist.
It goes crashing into the mirror shattering it in pieces. Strangely, there was no cry of anguish nor did tears fill his eyes.
He did not feel the blood dripping down his still fisted hand. His mom was the first in the bathroom. It was her small gasp of alarm that alerted him to her.
His mom lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. As if to say 'Its okay son, I'm here.' she wants to pull him close he can tell, it's in her eyes. Instead she shakes him a little.
She looks at him silently saying 'let me take care of you.' He's in a fog, walking as if dreaming. He finds himself downstairs on Bobby's old and well worn couch.
His hand doesn't hurt or he's finally broken and can't feel any more. Then he hears his mom speaking to him very quietly. Bobby is there too, speaking in his gruff but gentle voice.
He can't hear what they say. Its ok he doesn't need to hear them. Because right now he doesn't feel so alone anymore. He feels them fixing his hand and he knows he's not alone. Dad may be gone and Uncle Sammy lost somewhere. While that's not okay Bobby and mom are here and that is okay.