Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural do not belong to me. The original character of Evelyn Winchester does.
A/N: Welcome back! So I decided I wanted to write dealing in more detail than I have been with John and Evy. In this story, John forgets to pack Squish, Evy's beloved stuff cat. Evy is miserable without her best friend.
I started writing this story in the third person POV, but it just wasn't working. For some reason, I (at least I think so) write John better in the first person. So this story is a lot more introspective than most of my other ones (except for Evy Story #4-Goodbye). John is also talking to Evy here in the story, so there's a lot of use of the word "you". Enjoy!
It all started six days ago, when I picked you up from school to leave again. You came easily enough, just like always. I could tell you were disappointed, but you were trying not to show it. You climbed into the backseat and placed your backpack beside you. The ride was a long one, and took us nearly nine hours. You did what you normally do; sat in the backseat reading, writing in your journal, or sightseeing. I kept taking glances at you. Every time I did, you were either staring out the window or looking down in your lap with your tongue sticking out in concentration. I felt bad for doing this to you again, so I got you your favorite dinner-pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Dean spent most of dinner trying to entertain you, even though you never let on that you were feeling upset. It worked; he even had me laughing at times.
After we finished dinner, there was still almost two hours to go on our trip. Dean got in the backseat with you, and I laughed quietly to myself. That was a sacrifice he would only make for you. Less than thirty minutes later, you were lying down sleeping with your head in Dean's lap. I felt a little sad realizing you were already asleep. Whenever you fell asleep early you never called Sam, who'd been away from us for nearly nine months at that point. Though I know you think I was annoyed by it, I always liked watching you talk to Sam. It seemed to be the only time you were truly happy. He'd make you laugh, and you'd actually laugh, not just the polite smile or grin you'd give me or Dean when we tried. More than once, I'd pick up the other line and listen to Sam's voice as you talked too. I'd wish again that I could have the kind of relationship with you that you had with Sam, but I know I screwed that up long ago. So, at least for the moment, I'd have to be content with listening to Sam talk to you.
When we pulled up to the motel, it was almost eight thirty. You'd been sleeping for a little more than an hour, and you were not the slightest bit happy about being woken up. Dean walked with you into the room, and you waited for me by the bed. When I walked in, all our bags in hand, I wondered why you were just standing there.
"Time for bed, little one." I said.
"Okay, daddy." You answered me, yawning.
I could tell you were exhausted; you usually begged to stay up until exactly nine, your normal bedtime. I put your bag on the bed for you, and you dug out your pajamas. I saw you dig around some more, and then head into the bathroom. I did wonder for a minute what else you were looking for, and I wonder now how in the hell I missed it then. But you went into the bathroom, changed into your pajamas, and came out. You gave me and Dean a quick hug, told us good night, and climbed into the bed that Dean was sitting on. I had decided not to get you a rollaway bed because the room was so small. It turns out that was the smartest decision I'd made that night. I heard you get under the covers, and I turned around at the table to start trying to figure out the hunt that Dean and I were going to start on the next day.
"Daddy?" I heard you ask from behind me.
"Yes, little one?" I asked. You sounded scared, and I prepared myself to tell you that everything would be okay. Now I wish I'd had that chance.
"Can I have Squish?"
Shit. I thought to myself. No way did I forget to pack Squish. I can't possibly have been that stupid. But taking a minute to think back to packing up the apartment earlier that morning, I realized it was true. I remembered seeing Squish sitting on your bed after I packed everything up, but I never actually picked him up and put him in the car. My heart sank. I knew you depended on Squish for comfort, especially when Dean and I were gone, and that no matter what I said now, you were going to be hurt. I thought about what to say before I turned around. We had traveled nine hours. That was eighteen hours roundtrip. There was no way, even if I left then and hauled ass, I could go back and try to get Squish. I didn't want to lie to you, but I knew that if I told you the truth, that leaving Squish behind was an accident, I wouldn't really have a leg to stand on when I told you that I couldn't go back. I finally took a deep breath and turned around. You were looking at me, waiting patiently, with the utmost faith that I had just packed your best friend away somewhere and you hadn't found him yet. I steeled myself, because there was no way to avoid breaking your heart.
"I didn't pack Squish."
The look on your face made me want to kick my own ass at that moment. Dean, who had been sitting beside you taking his shoes off, froze in the middle of what he was doing and stared at me. I couldn't look at you, so I pretended to turn back to the newspaper articles in front of me on the table. But I wasn't reading them. Not even close. At this point, I really didn't give a damn about the ghost that may or may not be haunting the family we were trying to help. I was just thankful that you weren't crying. Yet.
"What?" you finally asked in shock.
"I didn't pack Squish." I repeated.
"Did I do something?" you asked me, heartbroken. "Am I in trouble for something?"
Damn it. I thought. Exactly the question I'd been hoping you wouldn't ask. Sure enough, those big, fat, miserable crocodile tears were starting to fall down. Dean was still looking from me to you. I think he was in shock nearly as much as you. Or he suspected that it may have been an accident all along. Maybe both. Either way, he didn't say anything, just grabbed your hand gently. You didn't pull away from him, but you kept your eyes on me. For the first time in a long time I thought about your mother. Not Mary, the reason we were hunting in the first place, but your mom. You looked just like her. That was why the tears were so hard to take; it showed me how disappointed she would be had she been there. I wondered how different everything would be if she had lived. And I knew for a fact that if I had left Squish behind when she was around, she would have gladly kicked my ass for me. When I didn't say anything, you started to beg.
"Daddy, please. Please go get him. I can't sleep without him. Whatever I did, punish me some other way. Please. I'm sorry…" Your voice broke and you started crying hard at that point.
"No, little one, you're not in trouble." I told you. "We just needed the room in the Impala, and you're getting too big for a stuffed animal anyway."
"Please, daddy." You said again. "I need him."
I couldn't take it anymore. What I wanted to say was Little one, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I can't go back. It's too dangerous. I'll buy you another stuffed cat. I'll buy you a real cat if you want. I'll see if Bobby can go find him. If we can get rid of the ghost quickly, we'll go back together. But maybe because of exhaustion, because of my own anger and disappointment in myself, or some of both, this is what came out instead.
"Evelyn, the answer is no."
I thought it had been bad when Sam left. But never before had I seen anyone look so completely crushed. You started crying again, hard, and Dean finally grabbed you and held you tight. I couldn't watch you, so I left. I knew it was stupid, but I didn't care at this point. I went to the bar across the street and got drunk. Sloppy drunk. It didn't help. In fact, it made the guilt worse. I'm not sure how long I stayed there, but it felt like a long time. I never, ever drank the night before a hunt. It messed up my senses. But right now, that's what I wanted.
I don't know what made me think you would still be awake when I got back to the room. I thought if you were still awake, I could apologize, and we could at least pretend that everything was okay for a while. I knew you'd at least say that you'd forgive me, even if you didn't. But when I got back to the room, you were on the bed, snuggled up to Dean. He was still holding you, just like he'd held Sammy when Sam was your age. He said nothing to me, but I could tell from the look in his eye it had been a rough night for him.
I checked the clock. It was 11:30. It had only been a little over two hours since I'd told you about Squish, but it felt like two days. I laid down in the bed and fell asleep right away, hoping and praying that everything that had just happened was a bad dream. No such luck. Four hours later, I woke up when I heard a noise coming from the bathroom. My first instinct was to grab my gun. But when I looked over at the bed, I saw that you weren't still sleeping with Dean and that the open bathroom door was now closed. I listened a little closer and realized that you were in the bathroom crying. You were trying not to wake me up.
Everything in me wanted to go in there and comfort you. But I stayed under that blanket and just listened to you cry. I know it was selfish, but I couldn't go in there and risk seeing you reject me. So when you came out of the bathroom, I just closed my eyes and pretended like you hadn't woken me up. I heard you climb back into bed with Dean. The next morning, Dean and I were getting ready to leave. You were at the table in the room, a barely touched breakfast in front of you. The house Dean and I were investigating wasn't far away, so you were only going to be alone for a few hours that day. When I came back inside from making sure we had what we needed in the car, Dean was crouched down in front of you, trying to make you feel better.
"We'll be back in a few hours, kiddo." he said. "I promise we'll be back as soon as we can."
"Okay, Deanie."
From the look on Dean's face, this was killing him as much as it was me. The sadness in your voice actually hurt. Physically hurt. Like a knife being stuck in the heart and twisted. Dean tried one more time to cheer you up.
"When I come back, we'll finish the book from last night." Dean said. "However long it takes. How's that sound?"
"Sounds good." You said, with a polite, unhappy smile.
Dean could tell you were just trying to spare his feelings; he frowned and touched a hand to your cheek. "Please don't spend the whole day upset."
"I'll try." You said.
"Here." Dean suddenly took off the necklace that Sam had given him years earlier and put it around your neck. "There. Now you won't be alone. Keep this safe for me, okay?"
You finally gave a real smile, and my heart leaped in my chest. "Okay. I will." You promised.
"You're such a good girl, kiddo." Dean said.
Dean stood up and gave you a hug, and you held on to him the way you used to hold on to Sam. And Squish, my brain thought, though I pushed that thought out when I felt a prick in my heart. Dean let you go and kissed your cheek, reminded you of the rules for staying by yourself, and hugged and kissed you again. He even got you to laugh a little when he tickled you in the side. I hated doing it, but Dean and I had to go.
"Dean."
Dean looked and saw me in the doorway. It's the first time I remember him not being excited to go on a hunt. He clearly wanted to stay with you. I thought about telling him to do just that, but once again, what I wanted to say and what I actually said were two different things.
"It's time."
Dean nodded and turned back to you. "We'll be back soon."
"Love you Deanie." You said.
"Love you more, kiddo."
Dean finally tore himself away from you and went outside towards the Impala. I stood there for a few seconds, awkwardly wondering what to say. What could I say? What could I possibly have said to make it better for you? What came out was, as Sam would have put it, lame.
"Have a good day, little one."
"Bye, daddy."
I walked out to the car, where Dean was in the car waiting. He didn't say anything when I got in, another sign he was upset with me. I knew he wanted to tear into me for hurting you like I had, but I also knew he wouldn't. Still, I felt guilty about sticking him with trying to calm you the night before when it had been my massive screw up that caused your meltdown in the first place.
"Dean…" I started, intending to apologize.
"Dad, with all due respect, can we please not talk about this?" Dean asked.
It was as close to snapping at me as Dean had come in a long time. I took a deep breath. Dean suddenly looked over at me, like he had just discovered the cure for cancer. He didn't say anything at first, like he was still trying to put the pieces together.
"It was an accident, wasn't it?" Dean asked. "You didn't mean to leave Squish behind."
"Yes." I said. There was no reason to lie to Dean now.
"Dad, why didn't you just tell her that?" Dean asked.
"Because if I had, she wouldn't have stopped begging me to get him." I said. "And I wouldn't have really had a good reason to keep telling her no. Besides, if she thinks I did it on purpose, maybe she'll spend some energy hating me rather than moping."
"Dad…" Dean said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Dad, she doesn't hate you. She's upset about losing Squish, but she's not mad at you."
If anything could have made me feel even worse, that was it. I had left your best friend hours behind, and you weren't even angry. I never thought it would happen, but it was at that moment that I missed Sam's rebelliousness. Your quiet defeat actually made me feel worse than Sam ever did with his outbursts when he was angry. At least when Sam would lose his temper, I had a reason to be upset with him. But you were different. I hadn't screwed up like this since the night I first told you about the supernatural. Most of the time, you behaved perfectly. All you needed was to talk to Sammy, have Squish when you slept, and for me or Dean to spend a little bit of time with you. That was it. And I'd repaid that by hurting you.
"Dad?"
"Yeah?" I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose to fend off a coming headache.
"Why don't I rent a car and try to go back and get Squish?" Dean asked. "It's been less than two days, maybe the landlord still has him."
"No." I said. Dean's shoulders slumped in disappointment, but I had already made up my mind. "After we've dealt with the ghost, I'll do it myself."
"Okay, dad."
I looked over and Dean was grinning. "What are you smiling about?"
"You're a big ol' softie, you know that, Dad?"
Indeed I was. It took a little longer to deal with the ghost than I had thought it would, but three days later, Dean and I had finally salted and burned it. I had planned on enrolling you in school that week, but the local school was out for Easter vacation. Dean spent a little more quality time with you when we were in the room, and that seemed to cheer you up a little. But each of the three mornings when I woke up, I saw that you were lying on the bed holding onto something with dried tears on your cheeks. Two of the mornings you were holding onto Dean's arm, the other one you were holding a pillow.
The night that we salted and burned the ghost, Dean and I told you I was headed out early the next morning for a hunt. You surprised me when you asked me to stay behind for just one day. Dean distracted you by promising you a fun day while I was gone, and I tried not to smile as you kept bugging him to tell you what you two were going to do. I knew what he was planning-taking you to the park to run around, then to the local library to sign you up for the spring reading program. But I acted like I had no clue, and sent you to bed that night hoping you were thinking about that rather than Squish.
Honey, I tried. I tried so hard to get Squish back for you. The landlord was already renting to more tenants, a family with three small kids. The mom was great. I came up to her and explained that we had moved out the week before, and that my daughter was upset because she'd left her cat behind. She said she hadn't found Squish, but I was welcome to check your room and see if I saw him. I checked with the landlord, and he told me he'd taken Squish to Goodwill. I checked Goodwill and didn't find Squish. I asked whether a stuffed cat had been donated that week, and I almost cried when the owner admitted she threw him away because he was in such bad shape.
As I drove back, my heart was sinking. I wanted so bad to give you Squish back, to bring the smile back to your face. But it looked like it was gone forever. I knew there was one thing I could do to make you happy again, but it was ripping my heart out. I tried to convince myself the entire trip back that I didn't have to do it. That you would eventually be okay, and that you'd go on. But as I got closer and closer to the motel, I realized that it would be cruel at this point not to let you do it. I had already driven Sammy away, and the last thing I wanted was to lose you too. So by the time I pulled up to the motel again, I had made up my mind.
I got out and walked into the room, surprised that you were still up. It was almost eleven pm, two hours past your normal bedtime. Dean let her stay up in case I found Squish. I had tried to make it back earlier, but traffic had been backed up for miles because of a bad accident. I was doubly surprised, though, when you looked up from the bed and saw me in the doorway. You smiled, genuinely happy to see me.
"Hi, daddy."
"Hey, little one." I said, walking in and shutting the door behind me. I carefully toed the salt line back into place and walked over to you. "Did you have fun today?"
"Yeah, it was great!" you said, and launched into your day with Dean.
The truth is, I was only half listening to you. You seemed so happy that I wondered if I even had to tell you what I had really spent all day doing, and what I was planning for you to make up for it. But I knew, deep down, that abandoning the plan I had come up with was selfish. You had earned this, and more, and you were going to get it. So when you finished talking, I smiled like I'd taken in every word you'd said.
"That's great, little one." I said, and meant it. You seemed a completely different kid. Dean had done a great job with you, though I wasn't surprised; he'd done a great job with Sammy too. "I need to talk to you about something."
That smile instantly dropped. "Am I in trouble?" You asked.
I laughed. "No." I stood up and picked you up, moving over with you to the other bed. I expected you to sit beside me, but you surprised me and stayed in my lap. "No, little one. You're not in trouble. In fact, I wanted to tell you I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what, daddy?" You asked.
"For leaving Squish behind." I said. "That was a mean thing for me to do, and you didn't deserve that. I'm so sorry, little one."
You frowned and looked down on the floor, unsure how to respond. Not that I could blame you. It must have been hard for you to comprehend-your hardline, strict, no nonsense at all dad apologizing to you for leaving your favorite toy behind. It seemed to confuse you, so I decided it was time to show you I was serious.
"Sweetie, I didn't go on a hunt today."
You looked up at me, surprised. "You didn't?"
I shook my head. "No. Not a normal hunt, anyway. I went back to try to find Squish."
Your eyes got bigger for a second, and it crushed me. You were hoping for a miracle, one I couldn't deliver. Then I think it hit you that I said 'tried', and your bottom lip started to shake. You asked me, so soft I could barely hear you,
"Did you find him?"
"No, little one. I'm so sorry. I couldn't find him."
Your bottom lip started to shake harder, and I could tell you wanted to cry. I realized that you didn't because you were afraid to cry in front of me. I don't know why I had never put that together before. Maybe because we were rarely ever alone together, and you could always fall back to one of your brothers or Bobby when you started crying. I put a hand on your shoulder and, for once, I was able to say what I meant.
"It's okay if you want to cry, little one."
That, apparently, was all you needed. One tear slipped out, followed by another one, before you said, "I miss him, daddy."
"I know." I said. "I know you do. I'm so sorry, little one."
You leaned forward and put your head on my chest. You were crying a little, but you seemed to need attention more. It had been so long since I comforted a crying kid that at first I wasn't sure what to do. But it was like riding a bike. I wrapped my arms around you and just held you for a minute. I wished I knew a way then to stop time, to just sit on that bed and hold you forever. Unfortunately I couldn't do that. I still had to tell you about your surprise.
"Little one, I have an idea that might make you feel better."
You didn't sit up but you did ask me, "What is it?"
I took a deep breath. Now or never. "Well, this isn't the surprise, but I decided we're gonna stay here for a little while. We're all three going apartment hunting tomorrow."
"I get to go too?" You asked.
"Yep." I said.
"What's the surprise?" You asked.
"Well, Dean's going to take you Monday and get you registered in school." I said. "But school gets out in eight weeks. How would you feel about staying with Sammy for the summer?"
That definitely got your attention. You sat up and looked at me like I was speaking in tongues. It was clear you didn't believe me. No. She doesn't trust you, which is worse, my brain was telling me. But I shoved my negative thoughts aside and just waited on you to say something. I forced myself to paint a smile on my face, although the thought of sending you away for so long was breaking my heart. If I only I had known then how long it would really be.
"Stay with Sammy? The whole summer?" You asked.
"The whole summer." I repeated.
I was not prepared for what happened next. Months of watching you go through the motions of trying to pretend to be happy suddenly ended. For half a second I saw your face light up with a smile, but before I knew it, both your arms were circled around my neck.
"Thank you, Daddy!" You said, and I felt you kissing my cheek. "Thank you!"
It hurt like hell to know that you would be away from me for so long, but with that reaction, it was worth it. "You're welcome, little one." Once you had calmed down some, I asked, "Do you want to call Sammy and let him know?"
You pulled back from me, still smiling. "I can't call him now, Daddy."
"Why not?" I asked.
"He's working." You said.
"Working?" I asked. "Working where?"
"He answers phone at his school." You answered.
"How do you know he's working right now?" I asked.
"Here. I'll show you." You said, and jumped off my lap. You got your journal off the kitchen table and flipped to the next to the last page. "Look."
I don't know why it still astounds me to this day how smarty you are, but it never ceases to amaze me. On the bottom half of the page you had Sam's class schedule written out. On the top you had drawn yourself a chart of the time zones and used that to figure out how to tell when Sam was in class, when he was working, and when he was home. I shook my head in disbelief, when you let out a loud yawn right beside me.
"Why don't you go on to bed, little one?" I said. "You can call Sam sometime tomorrow."
"Okay, Daddy." You answered, yawning again as you said it. You kissed my cheek and hugged my neck again and finally you said it. "I love you."
"I love you too, little one." I said. "Come on. Time for bed." Dean, who had been sitting on the other side of the table watching the entire time, got up to go tuck you in.
"Deanie, wait." You said, and ran over to him. You whispered something in his ear. Dean nodded and you came back to me. You grabbed your book off the bed, handed it to me and asked, "Daddy, will you tuck me in and read to me a little?"
Now it was my turn to want to cry. I had tucked you in a few times when you were a baby. But you had never, in nine years, asked me to read to you. I knew it was what your favorite activity, one of the many things that made you and Sam so close. I felt like you were letting me in on a part of your life now that I hadn't been privy to before. Not because you felt like you had to, but because you wanted to and I had earned it. I felt honored.
"I'd love to, little one." I said, fully intending on reading to you until you were fast asleep.
As I read, I felt another prick of guilt that something so simple was making you so happy. You were laughing, and enjoying the story so much that you even had me wanting to know what was going to happen next. I made up my mind that night to do better by you. Never again did I want you feeling as badly as you had been the last few days, especially if it had been me to cause it. Once I realized that you were asleep, I tucked you into the bed with the covers on top of you. I took a long look at you as you slept, and for the first time in nearly a week, you were peaceful and serene. I reached over and turned off the lamp next to the bed. Had I known it would be one of the last times I ever got to do this, I might have called off your trip to California then and just allowed you to stay miserable. Once I was sure that Dean was in the bathroom and not looking at me, I kissed my pointer and middle finger and put them to your cheek. I said one more thing before back to bed that night.
"Good night, little one. Daddy loves you."