Too Late
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John sat at the foot of the bed outwardly occupied with cleaning his gun, but the actions were purely mechanical for his attention was focused on the two teens sitting at the table. Recently he had taken to studying his sons surreptitiously when they were engrossed in some chore or other.
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Dean was curved protectively over Sam; he had always taken care of his baby brother and had raised him more lovingly than any mother could, certainly better than he would have been able to do on his own, John admitted frankly to himself in a moment of rare insight, and because of the life they led, they practically had no friends other than each other.
The casual acquaintances they made at the unending merry-go–round of schools, never lasted longer than the time it took him to research and carry out a hunt but even so, he had thought the closeness his two boys shared would have become less binding the older they grew; after all Dean was seventeen now, and Sam thirteen; the age difference alone should have driven them apart, but none of that had happened.
The two were closer than ever, even now they were hunched shoulder to shoulder at the table, as if sitting at opposite ends was too far apart.
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Sam had brought home a series of straight A's from school and Dean was looking them over, prouder than any parent could be with his child. He saw Sam look up at his brother with joyful eyes, basking in Dean's praise. It wasn't lost on him that Sam had gone first to Dean and not him!
"I'm proud of you Sammy," he heard Dean say. "There's not many scrawny little brothers that get straight A's like you do."
"You helped me study for them Dean," Sam replied loyally, wanting to share the credit with his big brother.
"Yeah, well you're the one who had to write the answers, not me. It's good that one of us does well at school," Dean answered shrugging his shoulders uncaring.
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John watched as Sam's face took on an indignant expression. "You could get A's too if you wanted Dean! We both know it. I don't get why you don't even try at school."
"I don't need A's to hunt, Sammy!" Dean smirked. "I need to know how to use a gun and gank fuglies, nothing else."
"You're wrong Dean. The more schooling you have the better you can research a hunt," Sam replied earnestly working the eyes.
Dean ruffled his little brother's unruly hair. "That's why you're here squirt," Dean parried. "You're my walking encyclopaedia, that's why I'll keep you around."
Sam scrunched up his nose and swatted away his brother's hand but John could see the pleasure in his eyes at the thought that Dean might always need him.
John knew they had forgotten that he was even in the room, they sometimes lost themselves in a little world of their own where he, although their father, was neither invited in nor particularly welcome.
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Suddenly he could take no more; he had to get out of the room a sensation of dread washing over him; a spiral of fear for the two boys coiled itself around his body.
"Goin' out to get supplies," he threw out as he almost scurried from the room.
He saw the boys turning towards him in surprise, John's actions were never impulsive and rushing out of a room without his standard warnings about salt-lines and being careful, was unprecedented.
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He pulled the door closed behind him, gulping down the fresh air to calm down. He knew why he was so off-balance; recently he had been investigating a report he had picked up from another hunter.
John tended to stay away from hunters. Most of them were rough hardened men and John didn't want his kids near them, but this had made him get in touch with the guy and spill all that he knew.
Seemingly another woman had died on the ceiling just as his Mary had, right on the six-month birthday of her baby daughter.
John had been okay with believing that Mary's death was a cruel game of some random demon, but it happening twice, and both times with a six-month baby involved, made him re-think everything.
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What if Mary's death hadn't been a casual occurrence but deliberate; what if the babies were the real motive behind the two deaths? That would mean Sam was connected to it in some way.
If and how, John had no idea but the very thought that Sam could be personally involved in anything supernatural scared the shit out of him.
His mind returned to the image in the room.
God help him; truth was he had been spying on his own son to see if there was anything strange about him, but all he had found out was that the bond his two boys shared was so much more intense and unshakeable than he had realised.
It was like a life-line between them and instinctively he understood that if it was severed, his sons would lose their way and it would bring suffering and pain to them.
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Maybe it would be healthier to separate them now but if he did that he might lose both.
He was in no way sure that Dean wouldn't leave too if he settled Sam with another family, or perhaps with Bobby.
Bobby would look after Sam like a son of his own. He knew the hunter had become attached to the brothers over the years, although the same couldn't be said for John himself, he mused wryly!
No, the time wasn't ripe yet, he needed more evidence but perhaps in a few years...
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Sam didn't like the hunting life, John knew that and maybe he could pack him off to College and away from anything supernatural.
He would have to go about it carefully though.
If Sam left, he would have to make sure that he stayed away and had as little interaction as possible with himself and Dean until he got more information on the connection between the burning mothers and the babies.
A plan began to form in his mind. He would insist that he was against the idea of College and that would lead to an argument. Even at thirteen Sam was as stubborn as a mule and since he had entered his teen years had begun to butt heads with him. Yeah he would brush up on that idea.
To save Sam, and Dean too, he would have to separate the boys. They were becoming too co-dependent and he could see nothing good coming from it.
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He sighed as he made his way to the Impala, unaware that two pairs of green eyes were watching from the window.
Little did John know that it was already too late, his sons were bound together by steel ropes, ropes that would give a little and be stretched to their limit at times but they would never break!
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