Author's notes: Based in part on real events. And unfortunately deals with child abuse. My hands are tied by the law…so I sent John in to bat for me, because hey, John Winchester is the defender of those who can't defend themselves. Not a happy fic, folks, but I needed to vent while we wait for the law to get it's ass into gear.
""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
John Winchester was wrestling with the ancient washing machine, trying to get his boys clothes washed. A shirt had snagged inside the tub, wrapping itself around the agitator and making the whole lot a snarled mess. He smacked his knuckles against the inside lip of the machine and hissed in pain, a mouthful of curses puncturing the air.
How the hell had Mary ever done this? John sure as hell wasn't domesticated and it was glaringly apparent to him, just how much he had relied on Mary, Pastor Jim or any number of people who had helped with the boys.
They'd been holed up in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere, for the past six months. John trying to give his boys a little stability. The hunting had been good around here and John felt more confident in leaving the boys alone in the ratty, rundown house he had managed to rent. It was more secure than a motel room and John knew the nieghbours on both sides. He worked with David, the blonde haired, wiry built mechanic that lived on their right. A guy half his age, but easy going and John had warmed to David quickly.
They had even been given a plate of cookies from Mrs Beck that lived on the left, the day they had moved in.
John had watched the boys settle in and for once, he felt he had done the right thing by them. Their grades were steady, although lately Dean often seemed to get into fights in the schoolyard, but that was part and parcel with the older boy. He had a short fuse, even shorter if Sam was being picked on.
It had been quiet for the past month, though and John figured the boys must have finally settled for good. Maybe they would stay here a while…take a rest from the road. Enjoy the stability they seemed to have found?
The shrill ringing of the phone, dragged John from his thoughts and he gave up on the tangled clothing with a sigh of defeat, walking into the kitchen and plucking the receiver from the phone on the wall. "Hello?"
"Mr. Hetfield?"
That had been Dean's choice in name…after that damn heavy metal band he seemed to have taken a liking to lately. It was all noise in John's eyes, but a name was a name. John frowned slightly at the authoritive tone of the voice. Debt collector of sort?
"Yeah, this is John Hetfield."
"Mr. Hetfield, it's Mr. Sykes, the principal from your son's school."
John let out a soft sigh. What the hell had Dean done now? Not more fighting surely?
Before he had a chance to ask what had happened, Sykes spoke up again. "Your son, Sam, has been caught stealing money from his teacher's desk."
"Come again?" John must have misheard the man, Sam wasn't a thief. No way in hell.
" Your son was caught red handed I'm afraid, there's no doubt in the matter. Now if you could come in to see me tomorrow morning about this? I'm sure we can get it sorted out?"
"What? Uh…yeah, tomorrow. Sure. First thing in the morning alright? I have to be at the garage by ten." John's mind was reeling, trying to digest what it had just heard. Sam. A thief. It just didn't make sense.
"That will be fine, Mr. Hetfield. I'm sure you appreciate the seriousness of this situation. I'll speak to you in the morning."
John hung up the receiver and rubbed a hand over his face, scratching at the stubble on his chin. The front screen door creaked as it opened and John could hear the sound of his sons entering the house, Dean's voice calm and steady over Sam's higher, more excited one.
"How'd you do it, Dean? Billy said no one could do it…that they would choke cause a human mouth is just not big enough to fit a whole balony sandwich in it." Sam's eyes were as wide as the grin on his face as he watched his big brother. The pride, love and sheer adoration Sam had for his brother was written all over his face.
"Billy Cranmire is a jerk, Sammy. " Dean shrugged, grinning. His jaw was still aching from proving Billy wrong but it had so been worth it to watch the little creep's face. He'd been stabbing his pudgy finger into Sammy's chest as he'd loudly voiced for all the kids within earshot to hear, that Sam was a stupid little weiner. Dean had automatically come to Sam's defense, taking Billy's lunch from the kid and cramming the whole thing in his mouth. For a moment, Dean had felt a stab of panic as he tried to chew around the wad of soggy sandwich, but then it had began to break down bit by bit and at the end, the other kids were cheering him on, Sam loudest of all. It was a moment that Dean wasn't going to forget.
Both boys paused as they saw their father standing in the doorway, watching them, his face stony, his eyes dark. On instinct, Dean stepped forward, placing himself between his brother and the perceived threat.
"Boys…" John said quietly, his tone indicating they should tread carefully. "Sam, you care to explain to me why I just received a call from the principal?"
"No sir." Sam's voice was all but a whisper. He stepped a fraction closer to his brother and felt Dean echo the move til they were almost touching.
"Go to your room, Dean. I need to speak to your brother."
"No." Dean shook his head, then glanced over his shoulder at Sam, noting how pale his brother looked. He'd never desert his brother at a time like this.
"No?" John demanded, his anger rising in the face of his son's defiance.
"No, sir." Dean repeated with quiet respect. He met his father's stern gaze calmly, despite the fact his heart was hammering wildly in his chest.
John watched the pair for a moment, tempted to grab Dean by the shirt collar and haul the boy off to his room with a clip behind the ear for his disobedience. But it was borne out of Dean's ingrained need to protect Sam from everything and for that, John couldn't be angry with the boy. " Fine. Both of you sit on the sofa, now."
They complied without hesitation, sitting up straight, hands in their laps. John dropped down in an armchair opposite them, the chair sagging beneath him, it's wood frame creaking and reminding John just how worn out and cheap the furniture was. Not like the home they had left that night of the fire….
"I'm waiting for an explanation, Sam. " John fixed his youngest son with a firm look. "Mr. Sykes told me you were caught red handed, stealing money from the teacher's desk."
Dean's head snapped around as he looked at Sam, his eyes growing to the size of saucers in disbelief as Sam refused to look at his father. The threadbare carpet in the living room suddenly seemed a lot more interesting.
"Why, Sam?"
" I don't know."
"That's not a reason." John growled. "Did I raise you a thief?"
"No, sir."
"Well then?"
"I…I don't know."
John got up from his chair so fast, Dean didn't have time to react. His little brother was lifted from beside him by the front of his shirt as John pulled the boy up to look him in the eye. " You damn well better know, Sam! I won't tolerate you stealing from anyone, you hear me? You're better than that! Now what the hell is going on? What were you thinking?"
" Dad…Dad, stop!" Dean was on his feet now, tugging at John's arm as his father lightly shook his brother in anger.
"I didn't raise you a thief, Sam! What the hell made you steal?" John continued, shrugging Dean off with ease as he continued to focus on Sam, hating the fear he saw in his son's eyes but unable to stop himself.
" Leave me alone! It's all your fault anyway! You left us alone…you left us here all alone and he hurt me! He hurt Dean! It's your fault!" Sam suddenly screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks.
John went cold, his arms all but frozen as he held his son, seeing nothing but fear and anger and betrayal looking back at him. Someone had hurt Sam? Hurt Dean? John's mind raced with thoughts of who Sam could mean. The Demon? Had it found them? Maybe a shapechanger?
Lowering Sam to the ground but not releasing him, John rounded on Dean and saw his eldest son take a step back in fear. " Dean? Who's Sam talking about? Who hurt you?"
Dean took in a snuffling, wet snort of a breath, looking all of his eleven years suddenly, before he closed his fists, set his jaw and looked back at John with the calm gaze of a soldier again. " David. It was David."
"David?" John's knees were beginning to turn to jello and he sat down heavily on the coffee table behind him, his hand still loosely holding Sam as he looked at his sons. Dean moved towards them until he was shoulder to shoulder with Sam, offering him support with his presence.
"Dean. What happened? Tell me what happened." It came out as an order, despite the tremble in John's voice. He needed to get through to the soldier in Dean if he wanted the truth, his gut already churning, not wanting to hear what was coming.
Dean's lip quivered, his eyes glassy with tears again. " Two months ago, when you went to Indiana to take care of that Rawhead. David came over while you were gone. He asked me and Sam if we wanted to help set up the tent in his back yard, said he would show us how to do it. He said he was going to ask you if we all wanted to go camping when you got back."
John's jaw grew tight, his teeth beginning to grind. His hand let go of Sam's shirt and went up to gently land on his shoulder instead, giving it a gentle squeeze he hoped was reassuring.
" He gave me us some soda and it made me feel funny after a little while. I guess he put something in it. I wanted to get Sammy out of there, but my legs didn't work anymore and I felt all dizzy. Then he… he did things. To me and Sammy…." Dean's voice dropped off, a deep tremble setting in over his body.
" Jesus…." John mumbled, horrified and sick to the stomach. His boys. His precious boys. John had always vowed to protect them from the evil in the world…and had forgotten the simplest rule. That evil came in all sorts of forms. He had trusted David. Had worked with the guy for months, gotten to know him. Sure, he didn't trust the guy enough to actually let the boys stay with him, but he had thought that the boys would be alright alone for a night or two. It saved pulling them out of school again, breaking that stability he had tried to build for them. He'd gone off to kill a Rawhead and stop it killing kids, only to leave his own boys defenceless against a similar monster.
And now his boys were standing before him, broken, scared. Telling him the worst thing a father could hear…and John had no idea how to fix this. How could he make it better? John wanted to rewind the clock, just turn back time and never come to this crappy little backwater town.
"Why…why didn't you tell me?" John asked quietly, looking at Sam and Dean, his eyes brimming with unshed tears as guilt coursed through him, tearing at ever cell, every fibre of John. God, Mary…how could I have screwed up so badly? How could I have failed the boys like this? I'm sorry…I'm so, so sorry.
"I didn't know how to tell you, Dad." Dean said honestly, glancing at Sam who nodded in return. " I thought you would blame me…for not looking after Sammy. It's my job to keep him safe and I failed."
" No." John said sharply, regretting the harshness of his voice as both boys jumped simultaneously. He put his other hand on Dean's shoulder, then dragged the boys into a rough hug, squeezing them tightly. "Don't ever say that, Dean. You did nothing wrong. You hear me? You boys did nothing wrong. I'm the one that messed up here and I'm going to fix this. I'm going to make sure that son of a bitch never hurts you or anyone else ever again."
Both boys looked at their father, nodding grimly. The tear stained faces broke John's heart all over again as pieces began to fall into place. Dean's constant fighting and over protectiveness towards Sam lately, the stealing. The boys had been acting out over what had happened to them.
John had missed the signs, had been drinking beers with David just yesterday after they finished rebuilding an engine at the garage. John had considered inviting David to Sam's birthday in a few months…and now he had been told that David had been touching his sons.
Well that was going to end tonight.
"Dean, take Sam to the bedroom and get everything packed and into the Impala. We're leaving tonight."
"Where are we going, Daddy?" Sam asked softly, a slight hitch in his voice as he fought to stop crying.
" We're going to see Pastor Jim." John answered. " Would you like that, Sammy? You know he always has those colouring books for you."
"Yeah! Pastor Jim is awesome, Daddy. I like staying with him." Sam nodded. He looked to Dean, John following his son's gaze to find Dean nodding gently.
"Will you be staying too, Dad?" The question was loaded and John knew it was Dean's way of asking for his father to stay, that he needed him. John gave his son's shoulder a squeeze. " Yeah, Dean. We'll all stay for a while, okay? It'll be like being on vacation. No school, just some fishing with Pastor Jim, okay?"
" Yes sir." Dean nodded, a shaky smile appearing. " Come on, Sammy, I'll race you to see who can pack the most stuff in the Impala. Bet I win too!"
" Nuh uh!" Sam shook his head as the boys bolted for their bedroom.
John stayed where he was for a moment, the sound of his boys laughing, sounding so much like happy, carefree boys again, the way they should always sound…tearing him up inside. Getting to his feet, John looked through a window to the house next door and saw a light on, David moving around in his kitchen.
" Dean." John called, turning towards the doorway as he heard the soft, urgent sound of his son running.
"Yeah, Dad?"
John slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out the Impala keys, then threw them to Dean who caught them without hesitation. " You get that car packed up with everything, then you and Sam meet me at the gas station on the I-80, you hear me? You don't talk to anyone, you don't stop for anything. "
"Yes, sir." Dean snapped his answer like a dutiful soldier. " Where are you going?"
" I've got unfinished business to tend to." John told him. " Go on, Dean, you know what you have to do." His son turned on his heel and rushed away as John walked to the front door, pushing open the screen door as a coldness crept over him.
"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
David didn't lock his front door and it was with a wide smile that he greeted John as the man entered his house. " Hey, John, wanna beer?"
"Yeah…that'd be nice, thanks." John said stiffly as he followed David to the kitchen. He stood beside the sink as David opened the fridge to retrieve the beers. While the younger man's back was turned, John slid a boning knife from the knife block on the counter beside the sink. He held the knife loosely in one hand, judging it's balance and feel.
David turned, already extending a beer towards John, when his eyes locked onto the knife in the other man's hand. The bottle of Budweiser crashed to the floor, shattering. "John?"
"We need to talk, Dave. About what you did to my boys in your tent…."
The way the blood instantly drained from the younger man's face, told John all he ever needed to know.
""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
" When's Dad getting here?" Sam pulled the blanket around him tighter and tried to scrunch into a ball in the back seat. It was cold in the Impala, the black muscle car sitting quietly in the parking lot of the Sip N Go Gas just off the I-80.
"Soon, Sammy. Just try and get some more sleep. I'll turn the heater on okay?" Dean fiddled with the knobs near the stereo, rewarding them both with warmth a little while later. A dark figure appeared out of the shadows, heading for the Impala. Dean instantly checked that all the doors were locked, his hand reaching under the seat for the hand gun he knew his father kept there for emergencies.
Relief flooded through Dean a moment later when he recognized his father's face through the window. He reached over and unlocked the door for him, then scooted back to the passenger's side. John slid in behind the wheel and Dean instantly picked up the smell of liquid soap. The cheap kind they had in gas station men's rooms. There was still a few flecks of blood on John's clothes that Dean immediately picked up on, his heart beginning to race. " Dad? Everything okay? You're not hurt?"
" I'm fine, Dean. Put your seatbelt on. It's time we hit the road."
"Yes sir." He complied instantly, then turned back to his father, his eyes searching John's face nervously. "What did you do?"
" I took care of it." John said bluntly. He sat quietly for a moment, his eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror and seeing Sam in the back, watching quietly from his cocoon of blanket. "It's over, boys, that's all you need to know, okay?"
"But Dad…he wasn't a monster. He was a man…aren't we supposed to keep people safe from evil?" Dean questioned softly.
" Not when they're evil themselves, Dean. " John informed him, looking at the boy. " That son of a bitch was no better than a Rawhead. You know what one of them does, right?"
" Yes, sir…they hurt children." Dean shuddered slightly.
" That's right. But monsters aren't the only evil in this world, son and I'm sorry you and brother were exposed to it. I failed you and I'm sorry."
" No, Dad. It wasn't your fault. You didn't know. You couldn't have known."
" I should have known. It's my job to keep you boys safe."
" You do, Dad!" Dean argued, his hands becoming fists, nails leaving half crescents in his palm.
John's shoulder slumped slightly and he felt tears threaten to prickle the corner of his eyes. Looking out the window, he gathered his emotions back under control, then turned back to Dean and gave his son a tight smile. " Well I'm gonna do better, okay? Cause family is what counts. It's all that counts, Dean. Sam…you hear me?"
" Yes, Daddy." Sam echoed softly from the back. " We gonna be at Pastor Jim's soon?"
" Yeah, kiddo, we'll be there by the time you wake up, okay?"
" Okay…" Sam closed his eyes and made a soft sigh as he settled down, his breath slowly evening out.
John kicked the Impala into life, feeling comfort from the snarling purr of the engine. He looked over at Dean, finding his son still watching him intently. "Hey, Dean…what's the house rules?"
" Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."
" That's right." John smiled. "How about tonight we throw that out the window and you pick?"
Dean beamed a wide grin at his father and reached into the shoebox at his feet. Most of the tapes contained in it belonged to his Dad still. Johnny Cash, Kansas, Led Zepplin, some Jimi Hendrix and other assorted classics. But Dean's hand easily found the tape he wanted, slapping Black Sabbath into the cassette player, Ozzy's voice filling the car a moment later.
By the time they had reached Jim's place in Blue Earth, Dean was asleep, curled up in the back with his brother. John watched his sons and felt no regret, no remorse for what he had done to David, the way he had begged for his life. They would never find the body or David's car that John had forced him to drive at knife point. They were both sitting at the bottom of a lake that was fed from an underground source. The depth of the lake was unknown, it was that deep.
Deep enough to keep it's secret and hopefully deep enough to send that sick bastard straight to Hell.
What was done, couldn't be undone…but maybe, just maybe, John could work harder at keeping his boys safe. After all…family is everything. Isn't it?
The End