Title: Trust and the Truth
Author: alakewood
Rating: G
Summary: A wee-ish!chester fic. Sam and Dean finally learn the truth.
Word Count: 750
Warnings: Spoilers for A Very Supernatural Christmas.
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.
oxoxo
"So...What kind of hunt is Dad on tonight?" Sam asked as he dug at the last of the brownie that was crusted into its little section of the microwaveable tray. Tiny bits broke off and scattered across Dean's clean table. The brownie wasn't good enough to waste effort prying it out or making a mess that would only piss Dean off, so Sam just put the tray back in the blue Kid's Cuisine box and threw it away. He grabbed the bag of Doritos off the counter and a Coke from the fridge and plopped down next to Dean on the couch.
"He didn't say," Dean answered, putting his feet up on the makeshift coffee table.
"Liar, liar, pants on fire. He always tells you."
"Sam."
"Dean." He just grinned at the scowl that earned from his brother. "Come on. Dad's never gonna tell me what he really does, is he?"
"He will," Dean disagreed. "When you're older."
"How old were you when he told you?"
Dean reached for the can of soda in Sam's hand and took a long drink. "Don't remember."
"Younger than me, I bet. He just doesn't trust me."
"He does."
The look he gave Dean said Yeah, I'm sure.
"Really."
"No, he doesn't, Dean. 'Cause if he trusted me, he'd just tell me what he really does. He wouldn't lie to me." He crossed his arms over his chest and sunk down into the lumpy couch cushions, fully pouting.
"Dude."
"You don't lie to me. You trust me," Sam said, only a little uncertainty in his voice.
"Of course I trust you, Sammy." He sighed. "Maybe Dad just...I don't know. Maybe he's just trying to make sure you don't get hurt or anything. Maybe he doesn't want you to get scared like a little girl." He elbowed Sam lightly to show that he was kidding.
"How am I supposed to be safe if I don't know what's really out there?" Sam asked, the question making him seem much more mature than his nine years.
"Dad'll make sure. He's always gonna protect us."
Sam's face scrunched up. "Couldn't protect Mom," he said softly.
Dean wanted to yell at him for even talking about her, but he couldn't. Sam was right. "That was before. He didn't know, then."
"Still. He couldn't keep her safe, how can he keep us safe? 'Specially when he leaves us here all alone?"
That was a good, valid point. There were some things Dean knew about – some of the more common things, which is why he kept a gun under his pillow – but he didn't know enough about what their father did to protect them if one of those monsters came for them. "You're right, Sam."
Sam's dark eyes flicked up to Dean's. "I am?"
"Yeah. There's a lot of stuff that we both don't know. I think we're old enough for Dad to tell us everything. Like you said, how can we be safe here, alone, if we don't know what's out there? If Dad's not gonna be here, we should at least know how to protect ourselves."
John cleared his voice from the doorway. "Boys? Family meeting and I wasn't invited?"
Sam glanced at Dean, who looked horrified. Dean scrambled up off the couch. "Dad. We."
"I heard. You told Sam?"
"No, Dad. Honest."
"Then how does he know?"
Sam was tired of being talked about as if he weren't in the room. "I found that notebook you kept. I found it back in Nebraska. When you weren't there for Christmas."
John looked guilty for a moment before the hard look returned to his eyes. "So you found out on your own."
"Yes, sir."
"And Dean-"
"He told me I should stop asking questions," Sam interrupted.
"Can't learn anything if you don't ask questions."
Sam saw the opening, recognized the change in his father's attitude. "What do you really do, Dad? Why do we move around so much? What's really out there?"
June 24, 1992, in Franklin, Tennessee, Sam and Dean finally learned the truth.
