Title: That Girl
Genre: Gen, PG
Summary: John Winchester is sixteen and in love. Love makes a boy do stupid things.
XXX
John Winchester was a good kid. He was. He was respectful to his elders, listened to his coach in football, he did alright in school but better in shop. John didn't get into much trouble – well ordinary stuff but not really big stuff. He was a quiet kid with a good left hook that never really needed to use it. Because even at sixteen, John was a big boy. Strong from working on the farm and muscled – the kind of muscle hours hauling hay gave a kid. He lived on a Kansas farm but so did a lot of other boys in his school, so he wasn't the strongest kid, not even the biggest. He said, yes, sir and yes, ma'am, but that was par for the course in his little town. But John Winchester had an Achilles heel and everyone in school…hell everyone in town knew it.
Mary Campbell.
Mary knew it best of all.
So when she tilted her head at him and tossed her golden hair back in spray of sunshine and said she wanted to head out to a way off the reservation party with a bonfire and booze. Tonight. Well he couldn't say no. He could never say no to Mary.
He did try though to convince her it was not a good idea.
"Mary, your dad'll kill you. Then he'll kill me. Then he will take me to my dad who will kill me again."
But Mary just laughed and kissed him.
Yes, John Winchester was whipped. Whipped by a girl who weighed no more than a buck ten if that.
"If you're afraid John Winchester, pick me up at the library. Daddy won't even know you and I are out. I'll tell him I'm with Becca."
"M' not afraid of your daddy, not even mine. So I'll pick you up at your front door like I always do. Be ready at seven." John tried to sound authoritative but if Mary wasn't ready at seven, well he'd wait till eight. He'd wait till the next day for Mary Campbell.
God, he loved that girl.
Didn't mean he wasn't worried.
XXX
His mom was in the kitchen when John came home from school.
"Good day, hon?" She ruffled his hair and kissed him on the cheek. John sighed and eyed up the pie she had on the counter.
"Don't even think about it John Winchester, that's for dinner. You touch one crumb of that crust and I'll break a finger."
John grinned, reached over and touched the crust with his finger then skipped out of the way from her swat.
"I'm going out with Mary after dinner, you okay with that?" John
"Why not? It's a Friday. But don't be home too late; you and your daddy have at least a half day's work tomorrow."
"Yes, ma'am." John answered and almost risked a grab for a real piece of pie. But his mom had grabbed a spatula and stood in front of it like she was guarding Fort Knox. He might be willing to risk a swat but he was not willing to risk a spatulaing.
"Dinner's at five, John. Don't be late."
"Yes, ma'am."
John bounded up the steps carrying his books. He dumped them in the corner of his room and lay down on his bed. He was taking Mary Campbell to a drinking party tonight. How in the hell was he gonna pull this off and make it through alive.
XXX
Dinner at the Winchester's home was a quiet affair. John's dad was a big man, soft spoken and in typical Midwest fashion – not exactly a talker. John wasn't either and to be truthful, his mom was a great cook so after a day in the fields or at work or school, both John and his father were too busy eating to chat.
John's mom never minded too much, she just smiled at her boys and kept the food coming.
Then she brought out the pie.
Both John and his dad eyed it up with just a hint of testosterone laden aggression.
"Apple pie, Sarah?" John's father commented.
"For you and John." She sternly looked at Jacob Winchester. Then she added, "To share equally – minus a piece for me."
"The boy didn't spend all day out on that tractor. He was in school. I think all day in the sun negates book learning."
John grinned at his father, "Yeah, but I'm a growing boy. You don't want to take food from the mouth of your own child do you?"
Jacob humpfed, a decidedly Winchester sound.
"You two will share and share equally, or I swear I will take that pie and feed it to Nellie."
Nellie was their sow. A vicious white evil pig who only success was that she was a great momma. A great momma who had lovely piglets that got sold for a handsome price. But Nellie? You took your life in your hands just to feed her and both male Winchesters took Sarah's words to heart. The thought of that vile pig getting their pie was enough to call a truce.
"Okay. Down the middle. Minus one for mom okay?" Jacob smiled and cut the pie still a little warm from baking.
John shoved a big bite into his mouth, "So Dad? Can I borrow the truck tonight? Mary and I want to go out on a date." John carefully avoided that said date involved a bonfire and alcohol. Neither of which the elder Winchester would allow.
Jacob studied John with apparent thoughtfulness. "Do I get another piece of pie?"
John laughed then. "So you are resorting to blackmail?"
"Not really blackmail…incentive." Jacob pulled the keys from his pocket and let them dangle in mid air.
"Deal." John said and caught the keys left handed as his father threw them over the table.
Sarah groaned. "Is this a ball field or a dinner table?" She grumbled, then just to soften the words, "Not to mention…is my pie worth so little?" She smiled.
Both Winchester men had the good sense to drop their eyes. "Sorry." They said, inflection exactly the same.
Sarah rolled her eyes. Boys.
XXX
John straighten his button down and slicked his hair back for the fifth time. He wasn't sure about the Brylcreem. Still his hair stayed in place and he figured as long as he didn't get too close to the bonfire, he would probably not spontaneously combust.
He'd shaved. Showered, sprayed the pits. He was about as fresh as he could get.
Why then was his stomach twisting?
Was it because he was taking his Daddy's truck to an authorized bonfire booze party?
Probably. Because if he got caught? Well no amount of his momma's pie was gonna save his ass.
John straighten himself up in the mirror one more time.
That's why he was not gonna get caught.
XXX
John knocked on Mary's door at 6:50. He was a prompt boy. But not too prompt. He would prefer not to be grilled by old man Campbell. Samuel Campbell did not like John Winchester and he made no qualms about it.
Mr. Campbell opened the door with a scowl and reluctantly let John in.
He yelled up the stairs.
"Mary, the boy's here."
John was never John to Mr. Campbell he was "the boy" or sometimes if he was in a particularly generous mood he was "the Winchester boy."
Samuel glared at John. "You bring her home before curfew, boy."
"Yes, sir."
"You bring her home safe."
"Yes, sir."
"If either of those things don't happen well than you and me are gonna have a talk and it ain't gonna be good."
"Yes, sir."
A moment later Mary bounced down the steps, a swishy multi colored skirt and a red scarf tied haphazardly around her head and hair. It barely contained the golden hair cascading down her shoulders.
"You look like a damn hippie, Mary." Samuel groused.
"That's 'cause I am a hippie!" She swirled her skirts dramatically at the base of the steps and laughed.
"Bye, Daddy." She kissed her father on his cheek and grabbed John's hand, dragging him out the door with a giggle.
John whispered in her hair as he held the door to the truck opened for her.
"Mary Campbell. You are gonna be the death of me and your father is the one who is gonna do the killing."
He trotted to the other side of the car and let himself in, turning the key in the ignition and started off down the road.
"Don't tell me your afraid of my daddy, John Winchester."
John growled. "That's the second time today to accused me of being afraid of your daddy. I'm not afraid, I am however…wary."
"Ah lighten up, John. It's Friday, we are going to a party and you're with the girl you love. Not to mention, she loves you back. What could go wrong?"
XXX
Lots. First off, it was a huge bonfire. It's a miracle they could not see it two towns over. Secondly, there was not just booze but pot. Mary being Mary, just had to try a little, John being John just had to let her. Then because he wasn't a wuss, he had a hit too. Then the embers from the bonfire from hell caught the field on fire.
Just a little fire. Only three fire trucks needed to put it out.
And while Lawrence was a small town, the small town sheriff department was particularly adept at corralling high school students too dumb to make a break for it when things went bad. It turned out that pot, booze and an inferno make for a lot of dumb kids because almost most of the high school found themselves in the county lock up.
Luckily the high school was small and the holding cells were big.
Unluckily they contained both John Winchester and Mary Campbell.
XXX
Samuel got to the jail before Jacob. The girls got to call their parents first. John was peering through the bars when he felt a hand tighten around his shirt as Samuel Campbell cleaned and jerked him through bars.
"Curfew? Safe? NOT IN JAIL?" Samuel shook John hard enough John would swear the bars rattled.
"Sorry, sir." That was all that John could grind out before he hear Mary from the next cell yell to her father.
"Put him down, Daddy. It wasn't his fault!"
"It was his fault, he left with you. I left you in his care."
"Daddy, I can do what I want and make my own decisions. Even if they are dumb. Leave John alone and stop acting like an over protective….Hell hound!"
Samuel dropped John with a thud, "And you little girl, had better watch your mouth."
Mary's mouth shut tightly but she didn't stop the blazing glare that she was obviously aiming at her father.
Samuel gestured to the deputy who opened the cell to let Mary out and a few of the other girls whose parents had shown up already.
Samuel grabbed Mary by the shoulder with his right arm and paraded her past John in his cell but not before he stopped to whisper against John's ear.
"You better watch yourself boy."
John gulped. One father down and another to go.
XXX
John made sure he was away from the bars when his father came in. His throat was still a little sore from Samuel's half choking move.
Jacob was furious. Quietly furious. Which was the worst way his father could be. The boys' parents came in shortly after the girls and Jacob gathered John up with a firm hand to the collar and a shove that sent him almost into the boy ahead of them.
The sheriff was pretty laid back about the whole thing. He couldn't arrest the entire Milford Mill High School population. But he did make sure that each parent knew that each kid was gonna pay in some way shape or fashion for the services of the fire department.
Besides. This was Lawrence. Kids got taken care of by their parents. It was a given. Like the summer was blistering hot and Stull Cemetery was a great make out place. So yeah, the sheriff was sure that all the kids he pulled in tonight were getting in some kind of trouble sooner rather than later.
John figured he would be lucky he made it to the truck. Jacob had hitched a ride with another wayward Lawrence boy's father and as such dug his hand into John's jeans and pulled out the keys, not bothering to worry how aggressive it seemed. Then he frog walked John to the passenger side, opened the door and stood silently there as John slid into the front seat. Only the slam of the truck's door showed how angry the man really was. A moment later Jacob was sitting in the driver seat with his keys in the ignition but not turning the car on.
It was if he was so angry, he couldn't figure out what to do or say next.
John just tried to modulate his breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Breathe, breathe, breathe.
"Dad I…."
"Shut up."
John shut up.
There was five more minutes of silence. No truck engine. No talking just John's attempt at breathing and Jacobs own deep breaths.
Finally, Jacob turned on the ignition and pulled out of the police station heading home.
In an effort to break the silence, John reached for the radio…Children behave – that's what they say when we're together. And watch how you play…
Jacob slapped his hand so sharply the sting almost made him stick his fingers in his mouth like a toddler.
The radio went off.
The rest of the ride home was complete silence with John looking out the truck window and Jacob driving.
They pulled into the farmhouse at 2:30. John looked as the front door opened to see his mother in her robe frantically tying and untying the belt.
"John…are you okay?" Sarah rushed to him and pulled him close. For a moment John let himself fall into his mother's arms, smelling Ivory soap and the lavender she sometimes liked to wear.
"Not for long." Growled Jacob and he pulled John out of his mother's embrace, pushing through the door and shoving him into the living room.
"You." Jacob said pointing a finger at John. "I want you down in the barn in five minutes. You're mother doesn't need to be around this and she surely doesn't need to hear it either."
John nodded, too terrified to answer. He was going to the barn. With Nellie the killer pig. Maybe that was how his father would hide the evidence. Kill his son and feed him to Nellie.
Appropriate, John figured. Kill two birds with one stone.
But John didn't wait to be told again. He trotted through the house and carefully shut the back screen door then double-timed it to the barn. Nellie squealed when he came up to her pen, obviously pissed that he was ruining her sleep. Or maybe not feeding her.
At least not yet, John thought wryly.
He stepped into the dimly lit barn, heard the whicker of Ned, their sometimes plow horse, mostly family pet. Ned who really hadn't been hooked to a plow in forever but instead spent his days greedily grazing around the barn. The damn horse didn't even have a fence to stay in. Why should he? The Winchester farm was paradise for horses and pigs. Not so much boys but whatever….
Then he looked at the lead rope attached to the hook on Ned's stall. Next to it was a strap. Leather, well oiled, supple. Thicker than a belt but significantly shorter. The strap had been around the Winchester farm since before Jacob was a kid. Leather could last a long time when tended to. And this was. It's was John's job to keep it clean and soft. It had been Jacob's job when he was a kid. John figured it was his grandfather's job before that.
It was one Winchester tradition that John preferred not to think about. And really? He'd had very little experience with said strap. Apparently, cleaning and oiling and keeping your own personal torture implement ready for use at any given time was a deterrent to just about any crime a boy could think of.
Except maybe Mary Campbell.
John shuffled his sneakers in the dirt. They were his good sneakers. Not the ones for mucking stalls but for going out on dates. Bonfire, booze and marijuana dates that ended poorly.
The last time he'd gotten the strap was two years ago. He'd been fourteen and full of piss and vinegar and so sure that he could back sass his old man and get away with it.
Last time that happened.
He heard his father's heavy steps as he headed to the barn. Heard Nellie's squeal of unhappiness since it was obvious she was not getting a 3am feeding.
Jacob stepped into the barn, his bulk huge against the door, barely allowing the moonlight to spill into the barn. Ned whinnied again.
Jacob reached over to the horse, crooned softly to him and then unhooked the strap sitting next to the lead rope.
"C'mere."
John did.
"Drop your jeans and lean over that stall door."
John did.
It wasn't that bad a fit. He figured he'd grown some in two years. The last time it was over his dad's lap on a bale of hay.
John left his underwear up. It would be easy enough for Jacob to drag it down and on the outside chance he might be left that one dignity, John figured he'd try for it.
Not a chance.
Jacob skimmed down his underwear with effortlessly and then proceeded to wallop John's butt and legs with that damnable strap.
Jacob was economy in motion in everything he did. Time was money and on a farm, it was always about time….that and the weather. And since a man could do nothing about the weather well, he became good at making every second count.
Or every lick count.
Whatever.
John tried for quiet, but it just wasn't possible. His ass was on fire and his father was making sure in no uncertain terms that this was the first and last time he wanted to whip John for something so damn dumb.
That was so like his Dad too. The last strapping had taught John to keep a civil tongue in his head. This time, John was quite sure there would be no more drinking, driving, smoking of pot or bonfires.
Didn't mean he had to like it. Didn't mean he wasn't gonna out squeal old Nellie. Which he was quite sure he did.
But again, his father's no nonsense and fast approach to an ass whipping meant it was over quick.
Thank God.
John cried a bit. Dropped his head to cradle his arms and just listened to his father's heavy breathing behind him. It didn't really match John's breathing because John was sobbing and crying but it was obvious that the strapping had been hard on the old man too. Maybe not physically. Jacob Winchester was more than up to the task of whipping a sixteen year old boy. But it didn't mean he liked giving it anymore than John liked receiving it.
"Get yourself together, son. Head on up to your momma. She's worried."
That was all he said and he turned away and John heard his father's footsteps leave the barn. Even Nellie was quiet when he left, apparently coming to terms with the fact that food was not forthcoming.
Once his father was gone. John really cried. It wasn't like he could be stoic when he was getting his ass beat but he could try to be manly about it. But with Dad gone, he didn't even have to try that. John reached down and pulled his underwear up, then his jeans. The harsh fabric re-ignited the fire in his butt. Then he headed to Ned's stall. The old boy was eating hay, completely indifferent to John's crying or lack thereof. So John lay his head down on the big bay horse's neck for a moment. It was comforting, smelled of horse and maybe liniment. His Dad had obviously rubbed the old boy's legs down in the morning and then wiped it off on his neck. John breathed in the smell, let it filter down into his lungs as he took another deep breath.
John Winchester left the barn to go hug his momma. He ass was sore, his pride was too but that damn Campbell girl? He'd do it all again just to see that sparkle in her eye and the bright swirl of her multicolored dress.
Maybe the learning strapping lesson worked on back chat but didn't work too well when it concerned girls like Mary Campbell.
End.