Written to take place after my, 'Needing More', but can be read separately.
Pre-series
John, Dean
Gen
"He's gone Dad."
John Winchester looked across the table at his eldest son, possibly his only son if Sam had taken the last thing he had said to him to heart. He did not want to talk about this, the anger that had seen him saying such final words resurfaced once more and he prepared to stand, to just walk away, but seeing the pain on Dean's face made him pause.
He looked stricken. It had been just over a month in which, he knew, Dean had been hurting but had not said a word. John was not blind, he knew his son blamed him for Sammy leaving the way he did and, he begrudgingly admitted, he shared some of it. But it had been Sam's decision to leave, to turn his back on his father, his brother, their mission and therefore, his mother.
That was what had angered him the most. His youngest son did not want to stay and help avenge his mother's death. Sam had turned his back on Mary and that, hurt. Bad. After all they had done, after all he had done to keep the rest of his family safe, now his youngest had turned his back on them and left.
He just prayed that Sam would use all that he had been taught and keep himself out of harms way. Damn him! John Winchester felt so torn. He desperately wanted his boy safe, here where they could both protect him but, after what had been said, he did not think he could look at Sam without wanting to beat the crap out of him.
Dean let out a small sigh and brought John's attention back to the son still sat there, and so obviously needing him now. He could not imagine Dean saying any of those hateful words Sam had flung at him. Dean understood. He was certain Dean felt even more betrayed than he did.
"I know, Son."
Dean sat up a little straighter, his hands playing with the beer bottle resting on top of the worn table, covered in the remains of take out. John drank from his own, watching as Dean obviously tried to pluck up the courage to speak. It was going to be something he was not going to like. It was going to be something about Sammy.
"Couldn't we just swing by and….?"
"No!" damn the look in those green eyes, so full of pain. John 'held his ground' looking straight back until he saw the eyes drop and the shoulders slump. He guessed Dean wanted, needed something from him, but John Winchester was so consumed with his own anger that he could not get past it.
His eldest son should not need coddling. They were Winchesters after all. You sucked it up and got on with it. That or you hit the bottle. He looked over at the dejected figure who was staring through his beer. John opened his mouth to speak but standing, instead grabbed the bottle of whisky from the counter and left the room.
Dean finished his bottle and got another from the fridge.
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