Author's Note: Originally posted on spnchallenges on Livejournal, as part of the 'first time for everything' challenge. My starting point was 'First Goodbye'. Beta-ed by the lovely mar9en. Concrit is very welcome.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Kripke is master
My First, My Last, My Only
John had never been good at the whole 'goodbye' thing. And that was an understatement of massive proportions. John was terrible at goodbyes, always had been, ever since he could remember. As far as he was concerned, goodbye was misleading. There was never anything 'good' about it.
As a child, he'd known people who had 'said goodbye'. These goodbyes had mostly revolved around tears, sadness and black clothes. A grandparent, a sibling, a favourite pet. Whilst others had said goodbye to them, John had stood by and watched from a distance, not wanting to get involved. Then there had been goodbye parties. The ones his father had been to, for men he had worked with, where he would come back long after a young John had gone to bed. The next morning, as he came down the stairs, John would smell his father's coat, thrown haphazardly over the banister. It smelled strongly of smoke. He'd breathe it in deeply, wondering if this was what leaving smelt like. What goodbye smelt like.
Mary had never been good with goodbyes either. She would 'see you later', leave you only 'until next time', and when you left, always parted with a kiss and a smile that never left you in any doubt that she would be there when you came back.
The first time John said goodbye, he had stood there in the darkness with his boys, staring at what his life had been, looking back at ruin. There would be no tears, not from him. There would be no black clothes. There would be no burial; there was nothing to bury. There was and would always be, sadness, sadness he would never be able to give a voice to. And all the while, all he could smell was smoke.
Goodbye was final, and when Sam walked out of the door all those years later, despite his anger, despite his worry, despite the anxious ache inside at the thought of him being out there alone, John wouldn't say goodbye.
He wouldn't say goodbye to Sam. Even when he didn't know how long it would be before he saw him again, he wouldn't say goodbye to Dean. They were all he had left. He'd be damned if he was ever saying goodbye again. He didn't care what the cost was, didn't care what it took, he would never do it again. Once was enough.