Vigilance
Family movie nights, though rare, were something Sam Winchester coveted. They were something a normal family would do, Normal being important above all else. Normalcy was top on the list of Sam's desires, second to nothing. At least, at first that's how it was.
But even on these occasions, the Winchester's couldn't help but do it differently.
John, as father, leader and trainer, chose movies about the things they hunted. Dracula, Frankenstein, The Amityville Horror, mummy movies, a series of werewolf movies, The Exorcist, anything on possession or hauntings. Then, after they were over, John held a discussion with his sons about aspects of the movie that were a plausible reality and those that were utterly fake.
When Sam was little, he used to demand that all of the points were unreal and could never happen, not in real life, or the real world. He so wanted to believe his family suffered from psychotic delusions. He had to believe it because everything in his life scared him; how serious his father took the demons, how Dean held blind faith, never going against the rules. He was afraid of learning to fight, to kill, at age five. FIVE for Christ's sake!
Most of all he was afraid of his Dreams. The Dreams of people dying. The Dreams of people being murdered and consumed. The nightmare of the woman being burning above him, The woman he recognized from pictures as his mother. He was frightened because he didn't understand a single bit of it.
And when these fears overwhelmed him, Sam turned to his older brother for support and comfort. Looked to his older brother as an anchor, a guiding light.
Since he could remember and with no reasonable excuse he could piece together, he had relied on Dean to pull him through. Dean was the one with the ability to calm him down, protect him, make the pain and confusion go away. Their dad always came second. Sam only turned to John when Dean wasn't around or when Dean just couldn't handle the problem alone - which was as rare, if not rarer, than the coveted movie nights.
That wasn't to say that Sam didn't love or trust his father. He did. But John Winchester had spent the impressionable years of Sam's infant hood in deep depression, and than on a mad mission to learn about, hunt down and defeat any evil entity he could ever possibly come across. And some thought to have been killed off.
As a result, John had never bonded with Sam the same way he had Dean, he hadn't bonded as deeply. Instead, Dean had taken his place in Sam's life.
Dean had no qualms about dealing with little Sammy. Sammy, no matter what he asked never interfered with the macho image he effected. His only protection against the heart- wrenching pain he never wanted to feel again.
Sure, he had his own life to lead. But ever since he'd carried Sam from their house in Lawrence when he was four, it had become Dean's job to make sure Sammy stayed safe. Dean Winchester always obeyed John's orders. Yet it was more than that. It was something he couldn't explain. Something in Sam that made Dean act to help, to make Sam happy, even before he thought about it. It was subconscious action, built into his being.
It hurt, John realized, knowing something he couldn't or didn't know how to fix was broken between him and his youngest son. It hurt to see Sam rush home to tell Dean his accomplishments, to tell Dean his problems. It hurt to see Sammy's face light up when Dean entered the room when he would only give John a small smile of recognition. A glimmer of something else, a glimmer of awe, was in that smile as well. Like he was staring up at a god he didn't understand, while Dean was the super hero that crouched down on his level.
That light had turned to something else over the years. From admiration, to hero worship, to an obsession akin to a crush. To see Dean's own eyes - duplicates of his brother's - the adoration and intense desire, innocent or otherwise, trained on Sam tore at John's heart. He had driven his sons to this, had forced them to be closer than close. It was his own desires that would force his sons to hell.
And all he could do was sit back and watch, pretending to be asleep as they cuddled on the chesterfield, wrapped up in each other's eyes and arms. The intimate smiles and teasing, flirtatious whispers John could see and sense more than hear over the television droning on about sirens.
It was on his own head and all he could do was watch vigilantly and intervene if it got to far carried away. This wrong relationship Sam and Dean had could not and would not go any farther. John would make sure of that.
The End
AN: Um, okay, I wrote this a long time ago, about a year ago, when I was really into Wincest and Supernatural. Still into Supernatural - love the show, love the guys even more - but Wincest has become less about the brothers and more about the sex. I used to love that, it freaked out my friends, but it got too much. When every story (or so it seems) has mentions of BDSM, it gets ridiculous. But, hey, they ARE hot.
Anyway, besides the rant, I remember writing this. It took awhile to get the words to flow with the idea, and even longer for the words to flow into the story the way I wanted it to go. This was supposed to be part of a four-part series. I never got around to it, and don't think I will now. But, moving on, drop me a line if you liked it or didn't.
MaraHeart