Messages for John Winchester
John Winchester was staring somewhat absently at the information around the bed. He had maps and journals as reference against the newspapers clippings he'd stumbled upon just outside Little Rock that seemed to point to a coven of witches. It wasn't so much a tricky case as it was that, as it often seemed to these days ,his mind was elsewhere: on finding the damn demon that had deprived him of a wife, his boys a mother, and all of them a normal life. Sam and Dean, his sons, of course, were never far from his mind. Every day he thought he should give them a call. Check on Sam at college; let Dean know he was okay. But he didn't; he and Sam hadn't parted on the best of terms to say the least and though he didn't agree with his youngest's choice, every day he wished he could go back to the last moment he'd had with him and do it differently. He didn't call Dean because he had no answers yet- and this side job, which he'd thought would be a good break, was not helping-and his oldest ought to know he had his reasons and to just keep going as always. He was confident they were fine; he'd made sure of that raising them.
It was then that the Channel 6 news he'd been ignoring caught his attention, turning the volume up halfway through the announcement: An update from Missouri that officials have cleared the prior suspect, having identified a Dean Winchester as the assailant whose body was found earlier this morning, bringing the case to a close as blood found on his clothes along with visual accounts match those of the last victim. Police say St. Louis residents can rest assured this string of attacks is over. His present case all but forgotten, his first instinct was to reach for the phone and call his oldest. But, as his hand wrapped around the phone, he forced himself to take a moment to think. He'd intentionally stayed out of contact for a reason and if Dean really was…No, he shook his head; he couldn't even allow himself to think that it was true; if nothing else, he'd taught Dean to be more careful than that. But he couldn't make it make sense even then; there would have had to be a reason. Still, trying to avoid a heart attack, he immediately pulled up St. Louis abductions on his laptop. After a few moments of the quickest, yet among the most meticulous scanning he'd done, he started to relax. It seemed more likely that his son had been in St. Louis, but fighting a shape shifter, of whose carcass had been found. Still, John looked at the phone…every logical part of his brain was telling him it wouldn't do any good to call now…but he had to be sure.
There was an answer on the second ring, "Dad?"
John breathed a sigh of relief as he heard Dean's voice come across the line. That was all he needed; he could hang up now, but he owed him more than silence, "Dean." John hung up with that, knowing he'd probably only made things worse; but he needed to keep them safe, so he could let them think it was a dropped call. This only proved to John further what he already knew: that he wouldn't make it if anything happened to his sons. He got back to his own case, more than ready to be done.
John had been hearing, but ultimately ignoring any messages on his phone, including those left by his son. But, a few weeks later there was a message from Dean he couldn't ignore, his oldest son's voice broken and telling him that not only was he hunting in Lawrence, but with Sam. A few hours later he was knocking on Missouri's door.
That knowing, no nonsense look was already on her face as she opened the door and began talking before he had a chance, "Yea, those boys of yours have grown up real nice and they're here, but you don't plan on actually stopping in to help. You can tell yourself whatever you want, but what are you really hoping to find here, then?"
With that look, John finally recognized a pause giving himself a chance to explain and acknowledged, "I just need to see."
At that, Missouri humphed and protested, "Well, don't be expecting any maid service. You know where things are. I've got to get back to your old house and help your sons with a poltergeist. "
John started to protest, but she turned around, "No, I don't need to hear any excuses. I'll see you later."
John sighed, resigning himself to wait inside. He knew if he went out, he'd find his way to Sam and Dean and inevitably a barrage of questions he had no answers to. So, it was with his face in his hands that Missouri came in, going on about how powerful Sam was. A thousand questions went through his mind, but really all he could think was sorry. He was sorry hadn't been there himself for his sons. He looked down at his wedding ring that he wore to this day, thinking, I'm sorry, Mary. I wish I could do better.
A few weeks later and John wondered how many heart attacks he could take, not literally as far as he knew, but…for Sam to call him like that. He'd just talked to both of his sons less than a week ago. They both seemed fine, Sam as protesting as ever and Dean as obedient and healthy as ever. Now, now, he heard the message from Sam, scared and desperate, and two lines were playing over and over in his head, "Dean's sick and the doctor's say there's nothing they can do." Dean's sick and the doctor's say there's nothing they can do. That couldn't be possible. So, he clung to the other line. "Don't worry." Don't worry. That was practically impossible with everything lately, particularly Sam's desperate tone. He forced himself to believe it would be fine. Sam would figure something out. Dean was fine. He was always fine. He'd been fine in St. Louis, they'd been fine in Lawrence, Dean would be fine now; they had to be. He was so close and they would get through this. He started repeating that to himself instead of the first line.
Weeks passed and John contented himself that he hadn't heard anything from Sam, sure that if Dean…he would have heard something. But, he hadn't and he didn't even know where they were. Sam had left that out of his message, which was probably a good thing. Because by now, he had perfected reasons- however flawed he ignored they may be, for why he couldn't call his sons again- but if Sam had told him where they were on his own, by now he'd probably have gone to see for himself, again. That's what he told himself and he was so close, so close, to getting the damn demon. All that in mind, the message simultaneously surprised, relived, and confused him. Surprise mostly in the form of fear that the impossible had actually happened and John hadn't been there, immediately followed by an overwhelming relief at once again hearing Dean's voice come through the line, healthy and no hint of any problem except the one he mentioned: that they had a big lead on the demon in Chicago. And that confused him. The leads he had were pointing near Wyoming, not Illinois. But, it had been far too long since he'd seen his sons and it was clear from their messages that they were as concerned about him as he was about them and this was a lead or, more likely, a trap. Either way, he no longer cared; he was going to see his sons.
AN/Disclaimer: Nope, don't own. First Supernatural fic and was harder than I thought, so please be nice, but reviews and criticism are welcome. If it's not clear and you were wondering the three calls in order are all from season 1: after the shapeshifter in ...I just needed a call there. after Dean was electrocuted. and in Shadow, when Dean called his dad about a lead but Meg had actually set a trap.