Title: You be forever, I'll be always
Summary: AU. John has adopted two boys and learned to love them like his own. But when Dean leaves to become a warrior and Sam finds himself on the fast track to destruction, will John be able to keep his family together? Hurt!Sam, Protective!Dean and John, Loads of Angst and Hurt/Comfort
Disclaimer: I don't own the show or any of its characters. Sad but true. ;P
Warnings: Rated T for strong language, graphic violence and mentions of past abuse.
A/N: Totally AU. Just trying something new for a change. Really curious how this will turn out.
Sam's knees hit the bathroom tiles with a loud thump, sweaty fingers slipping on cool porcelain and chest heaving for breath as he started retching forcefully into the bowl.
His lean frame was shaking with the intensity of the white hot pain stabbing at his eyelids and Sam groaned as another tremor wrecked his body.
He didn't know how much time passed as he kneeled there, pressed up against the toilet while silent tears of agony streamed down his gaunt face and dripped down his chin in a mesmerizing rhythm.
Was it minutes? Hours?
Either way, the gagging stopped at some point, nothing left in his stomach to expel and Sam slumped forward as his elbows gave way, no longer able to support him.
He had just enough energy left to flush, before he flopped over on the dirty tiles, eyes squeezed shut against the raging headache that became gradually worse with each passing second.
His own breathing sounded loud in the sudden quiet, ricocheting from the bathroom walls as he squirmed into a less painful position on the ground, eyes fluttering closed as another tear escaped from his eyes.
At some point he must have fallen asleep or lost consciousness, because the next thing he knew was a light slap to his face, ripping him out of his haze.
"Sam! Open your fucking eyes, boy. C'mon"
"Unghh..." Sam groaned weakly, coming to. With great effort he managed to crack his dilated eyes open, squinting up to meet his adoptive father's disappointed glare.
"Goddamnit, Sam. " John angrily muttered, towering over him. "You can't keep doing this shit to yourself."
Sam felt his stomach churn as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, ignoring the pain that shot through his side at the movement.
John looked pissed, but that wasn't all too surprising.
Sam couldn't remember how he had gotten home the night before, but judging from the dark look on his adoptive father's face he had probably woken him in the process.
"Time 's it?" Sam croaked, running a shaking hand over his face. John clenched his jaw, eyes sparking with barely concealed anger.
"Too fucking early to find you passed out in your own vomit, that's for fucking sure. What the hell were you thinking, Sam? For a second there, I almost thought-"
John cut himself off and Sam glanced up in time to see his hands tightening into fists.
He lowered his head, feeling a trace of guilt at his adoptive father's words.
He hadn't meant to put that worried expression on John's face, hadn't meant for the man to find him in this state, when all John ever did was to keep him out of trouble give him a chance at a better life. And yet here they were...
"I'm sorry..."
John sighed and sat down on the edge of the bath tub. "You always are."
"What else do you want me to say?"
"I don't want you to say anything, Sam! I want you to stop sneaking out at night and getting involved with the wrong crowds. I want you away from the streets and away from drugs and guns and gangs and all the other shit you're getting yourself into. Don't you see that you're on a downward spiral?"
Downward spiral?
Sam's lips twitched into a bitter smile. Because there was no such thing as a downward spiral for somebody who had already hit rock bottom.
"You regret taking me in, already?" Sam provoked, words rolling off his tongue in a spiteful tone. "Regret having such a lowlife scum for a son?"
He knew he was being unfair, but he just couldn't hold back his thoughts any longer.
After all, it had been the reason why all his previous foster parents had given up on him.
The drugs, the school skipping, the bad language- they had all seen Sam for what he was. Just a worthless kid from the streets. Stupid. Weak. Dirty.
But John had always been different. He had taken him in despite everything, had adopted him, cared for him and shown him what a true family was all about.
So throwing that into his face- saying that John didn't want to have him for a son, that he didn't care- was a low blow, even for Sam's standards.
But there was no sense to wallow in the past- he couldn't take his words back and he certainly couldn't make them unheard.
"You got no fucking right to talk to me like that! Not after everything I've done for you" John snapped, driving his fist against the bathroom wall.
"For 5 fucking years I've been cleaning up your messes! I shared my home with you, my food, my last name- and this is how you fucking thank me?!"
Sam flinched on instinct, tensing up at the sharpness of John's tone.
His father stepped forward, one arm extended and Sam's shoes squeaked on the tiled bathroom floor as he tried to scramble away from the touch.
"I-I'm sorry" he muttered, arms shooting up to cover his face, an automated motion perfected over years of having to live with an abusive father and a mother that was so drugged to the gills that she couldn't be bothered to care whether or not Sam would make it through the night.
But this was another life now, Sam reminded himself.
And the blows he had mistakenly expected, wouldn't be coming.
Because no matter how pissed John was, he had never, never raised his hand against Sam in anger.
John froze mid-movement upon noticing Sam's panicked reaction.
"Are you- Jesus, Sam are you afraid of me?!" he asked, completely mortified by the suggestion.
Sam winced, slowly lowering his arms and squinting up at John from behind sweaty hair strands. "I-I'm sorry. I-"
"Fuck... I can't. I just- I'm gonna be back, I can't deal with this right now."
John turned to leave- just one more person to add to the never-ending list of people who Sam had lost- of people he had disappointed.
And Sam wanted to scream and fucking cry, but all he could do was sit and stare as his adoptive father turned his back on him.
He was blinking back tears, trying to calm his raging heart, when John suddenly hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder with a pained expression.
"Just tell me one thing- are you using again?"
Sam bit his lower lip, trying to be strong on the inside, while the rest of his strength faltered beneath his father's angry glare.
He shook his head, driving a trembling hand through his disheveled mop of hair.
Flecks of blood and vomit were splattered across his arms and the front of his shirt.
His clothing reeked of cheap alcohol and marijuana.
He could remember someone offering him crack the other night, but he didn't take it.
He wanted to, but he didn't.
"Answer me when I'm talking to you!"
"I didn't take anything. Just drank too much..."
John nodded his head, not really meeting his eyes and Sam was feeling pathetically inadequate as a son.
Oh he had royally fucked up, so much was for fucking sure.
"You hurt anywhere- I mean seriously injured? Because I fucking need to know if something happened to you, Sam-"
"I'm fine. Nothin' life-threatening or I would have told you."
"Alright..." John exhaled, not looking all too convinced by Sam's assurance. Under different circumstances, John would have never left without checking his son's wounds himself.
But tonight, things had gone a little too far and John's pride was too hurt for an act of gentleness.
In a way, Sam sometimes felt like he and John had many things in common.
"You know-" John spoke slowly, crossing his bulky arms in front of his chest.
"Dean would be disappointed."
Sam's breath caught in his throat, heart twisting painfully in his chest.
He couldn't believe John would play that fucking card against him.
Because there was nobody on the face of the planet that could make Sam crumble faster than his adoptive brother.
Dean had left them 2 years ago to become a Marine, because apparently even fighting a war was easier than to stay close to someone as broken and worthless as him.
Sam felt the familiar sting of tears burning in his eyes and he bit his lip, trying to keep it from trembling.
Sometimes he missed Dean so much that the pain he felt got almost physical like nothing else Sam had ever endured.
And other times, when he lied awake in bed at night, he ran his fingers over the little horned penchant his brother had left him as keepsake and it felt like the whole world around him was shattering into thousands of pieces.
On nights like these, Sam often sneaked out to meet up with the guys and got drunk.
They'd smoke a little weed and do stupid shit and Sam would forget -even just for a little while- that the person that meant the world to him, was off to get himself killed in the battlefield.
John knew that Sam missed his brother.
That's why he rarely spoke of Dean these days. Because the memories were still too painful for both of them.
The fear of losing the third member of their broken little family was still too big.
But today John had done it nonetheless.
Had used Dean against Sam in the most cruel way possible and now it was all he could do to keep his emotions in check.
"Dean wouldn't want you to throw away your future like this" John reasoned. "You mean too much to him."
Sam knocked his head back against the bathroom wall, squeezing his eyes shut at another onslaught of pain. "Apparently 'too much' wasn't enough to make him stay."
And who could blame Dean for trying to get away from Sam?
After all, it wouldn't be the first time somebody he cared about decided he wasn't worth the trouble.
John shook his head, watching Sam with saddened eyes, before he turned around and left the room.
"Sleep it off, Sam. And stop wallowing in self-pity. You're way too old for this crap."
SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN
John pulled the door closed on his way out and slumped against the wall out in the hallway, feeling completely drained. He waited until he heard scuffling noises and squeaky pipes coming to life, before he turned away from the door and hurried towards his own bedroom.
He hadn't meant to be so harsh to the kid, hadn't meant to frighten or hurt Sam in any way. But he was starting to feel like the boy was slipping out of his grasp and it made him desperate.
Glancing around his room, John automatically knew what he had to do.
He snatched his phone from the small night stand next to his bed and started hitting speed dial.
It rang three times before someone picked up on the other line.
"Yeah?"
John closed his eyes at the sound of his oldest's voice. It had been a long while since they had last spoken. Dean sounded tired but good. Healthy.
And that was all that mattered to John anyways- that the kid was alive and kicking.
"Dean..." he breathed, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by emotions. "How are you doing, ace?"
There was a second of silence and John imagined what Dean's face would look like right now, what emotions would be displayed in his emerald green eyes.
"John?" he sounded more alert than before and John briefly wondered what time it was in Afghanistan right now, before he returned the question with a soft "Yeah, it's me."
"You alright? Something happen? Is Sammy okay?"
John's chest tightened painfully at the concern in Dean's voice.
It was so typical of the boy to be worried of him and Sam, while he himself was in constant danger of getting hurt or even killed in the war.
"Yeah, we're... we're ok, Dean. Missing you like crazy but other than that... How are you?"
"Fine. John, you're scaring me. You know I only have my phone for emergencies. They don't like us to call home."
John swallowed. "I know that, son."
"So whatever happened must be bad enough to warrant a call at 4: 27 in the morning. I mean I know I have a charming voice and all, but-"
John smiled wistfully at his oldest's usual playfulness, before getting more serious.
"It's about Sam-"
"I thought you said he was fine." Dean accused, voice instantly going up a notch in volume and urgency.
Oh yeah, John had almost forgotten how protective Dean was of his little brother.
"He is. More or less. I found him passed out on the toilet about an hour ago. He was hard to rouse, wouldn't wake up at first. And there was blood in his face and vomit on his shirt and I can't be sure but I think he's doing drugs again, Dean. I don't know what to do..."
"Shit. That's your definition of 'fine'?" Dean swore on the other end of the line, sounding wrecked at the unexpected news. "That little brat... He fucking promised me to stop using!"
"I can't know for sure. He wouldn't tell me anything, but the signs were pretty obvious. Sweating, trembling, blown pupils and he was pretty out of it at first."
"Out of it?" Dean sounded confused.
"Yeah like... fuck. Dean, he thought I was going to hit him when I reached out towards his face."
"Goddamnit, John. You know how he gets when you move to quickly! I told you a million times to be careful around him!"
"Shit happens, Dean! The kid has been with me for over 5 years now and he still doesn't trust me. How do you think that makes me feel, to have him shy away from my touch- to look at me with fear shining in his eyes?!"
John's heart was racing in his chest, his breath coming in ragged little pants as he tried to reign his temper.
Dean was silent on the other end, precious seconds ticking away between them.
"Look I know you're trying your best, okay? I'm not saying you ain't a good father. But Sammy isn't like me, John. He is fragile."
Fragile.
John found the term rather fitting to describe his youngest.
"I know, he is. I just-" he paused, struggling for words.
"You were always so good with him, Dean. I just wish you were here to set him straight. You know, it's not the same since you left. It hit him harder than you might think. The kid really worships you."
"Fuck, John... You trying to kill me here or something?"
There was another pause. A barely audible sniffle. "I miss him too. Both of you."
John didn't comment on how his son's voice was cracking when he spoke.
It was good to know that Dean still had his heart in the right spot.
That the horrors of the war hadn't managed to numb him down emotionally.
"Just make sure he stays clear of trouble, okay? Don't let him get anywhere near that Franko guy and his gang, you hear me? That's really important, John, they are bad news."
"Got it" John agreed, nodding his in silent confirmation. "You- you already know when you'll be able to come back home?"
"John..."
"I thought maybe Christmas time or something. It doesn't even have to be for long. Just a couple of days during the holidays..."
Dean sighed heavily on the other end of the line and John braced himself for a rebuff.
He knew it was nothing personal, that Dean would gladly take the next plane to come visit his family, but he had a responsibility towards the rest of his squad and the war wouldn't stop just so the soldiers could go home and spend a couple of nice days with their families.
"You know how much I wish I could see you guys. I just- I don't want to make any promises that I can't keep, John. Especially if Sammy is already having such a hard time. He'd only get his hopes up and if I didn't come..."
Dean left his sentence unfinished, but John could all too well imagine the devastation Sam would feel if his big brother wouldn't be able to keep his promise.
"You are right" John conceded softly. "I shouldn't have pushed you. I know you would be here if you could."
"Right. Uhm... listen, John. I have to get ready now or they'll notice me gone... I'll try to sneak away and catch a hold of you more often if possible."
"Yeah, you do that. And Dean? Take care of yourself, boy."
John could practically hear Dean's smile when he answered. "I will, you too. And give Sammy a hug for me, alright? Tell him... tell him I love him, alright?"
John swallowed. "I will."
"Bye, Dad"
There was a click on the other end of the line as Dean hung up and John closed his eyes, feeling a first tear slip out from beneath his eyelashes.
Dean didn't call him 'dad' very often. And he also didn't tell anybody that he loved them very often. The fact that he had done both in the span of only a few seconds, was testament to how much he missed them.
"Bye, son" John said in a painful whisper, wiping a wayward tear from his face.
TBC...
Hey guys! Thank you so much for reading! :) So this sorta came to my mind and needed to be written :-S I intend for it to become a longer WIP with plenty of angst and h/c But I wanted to check in with you guys first and see whether you liked the idea or not ;)
Pleaaase tell me what you think! Reviews and support of any kind is always highly appreciated :D Thanks!