Family Ties
Chapter One
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn't be posting here, now would I?
A/N: I survived the big wind storm in Washington and being without power for a couple of days. I was without Internet access for a few days longer and that was almost worst than having no heat when it was 30 degrees outside. I started this story the old fashioned way – a pen, some paper and a candle for light. I hope you like where this story leads us… I love hearing from you guys!
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Other things may change us, but we start and end with family - Anthony Brandt
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Dean Winchester stood near his younger brother as their father stalked into the room. He wasn't afraid of his father, exactly, but he definitely had a healthy respect for him. This was especially true when John was angry and there was little chance he wasn't angry now.
John glanced at his older son as he sat on the couch next to Sam. The boy's feet were propped on the coffee table, one ankle carefully wrapped with an elastic bandage. Jim Murphy, a family friend, couldn't help but notice the tension in the room as he entered a moment later with ibuprofen and a bag of ice. He saw the wariness in Dean's eyes and could almost feel his trepidation.
He knew that Dean wasn't afraid of what his father might do. John Winchester was many things, a lot of them unpleasant, but he would never physically harm one of his boys. Jim knew Dean was afraid of his father's disappointment. He tried to catch the young man's eye with a smile of encouragement, but the boy refused to look away from his brother.
"Here you go, Sammy." Jim said as he sat on the couch. He cast a warning glance at John, who was examining cuts and bruises on Sam's skin.
Sam took the pills offered and swallowed them with the water he already had as Jim carefully put the ice on his ankle. Jim knew John had yet to say anything.
"Thanks." Sam said, his eyes on his father.
Satisfied the injuries were minor, John relaxed a bit but when he asked what happened, it sounded more like a bark than a question. Even though John was looking at Sam, everyone in the room knew the question was aimed at Dean. Jim felt sorry for the boy as he tensed even more and seemed to stand at attention.
"It was a poltergeist." Jim answered before Dean could. "It was a quick job that I knew the boys could handle."
"It was my fault." Dean interrupted.
John finally looked at his older son and Dean seemed to melt under the gaze. At least that was what Jim imagined. The truth was that Dean stood up under the scrutiny and was shouldering the responsibility well. It was a responsibility he shouldn't have, Jim knew, because the only way Dean could have stopped Sam from getting hurt would have been to leave him out of the job completely.
"The poltergeist started throwing things at us almost as soon as we walked in." Dean continued. "And there was already all kinds of things broken on the floor. We started cleansing the place, but I should have done something to get the situation under control. Sammy was pushed down some stairs before I could get to him. I finished the job and got him back here."
"You're sure his ankle isn't broken?"
"Yes, sir."
John looked at Jim.
"It's not broken, but if it would make you feel any better, I could have Joel x-ray it." Jim said offering up the services of a member of his church who knew about the paranormal investigations Jim was sometimes involved with.
"Let's see how he is tomorrow." John said.
Sam found it odd that his father's words sounded so harsh when the hand placed on his shoulder was more than gentle. He looked apologetically at his brother, who was now staring straight ahead.
"Have you eaten?" Jim asked his friend. "I was just about to put some hamburgers on the grill."
"I haven't. Thanks."
"There's beer in the refrigerator. Help yourself."
John understood Jim's offer meant the pastor wanted to talk to him alone. He squeezed his son's shoulder and followed Jim into the kitchen. Sam was the only one to see the pain in his brother's eyes when John walked past him without a word.
While John took a beer from the refrigerator, Jim picked up the plate of hamburger patties and walked outside to the grill he'd lit earlier.
"You know Sam getting hurt was more my fault than Dean's." Jim said as soon as John had closed the back door. He knew taking responsibility in front of Dean would have only made the boy feel worse, which was why he said nothing inside. "And the only reason I called you was so you wouldn't explode the moment you saw his bandaged ankle."
"Since when do you send my boys on assignments?" John asked, glaring at him.
Most people were intimidated by John Winchester, and with good reason, but Jim met him when John was a much different man. He respected John, but did not fear him.
"They were getting bored waiting for you, so I sent them to take care of something I knew they could handle."
"Sam is fifteen."
"You've let him participate in hunts before." Jim said calmly as he put the hamburger patties on the grill.
"He's been on two hunts where he played an active role." John said. "And I was there both times."
"Would you be this angry if Sam hadn't gotten hurt?"
"Sammy did get hurt."
"True enough." the pastor agreed. "You're right. They're your sons and I should respect that."
John hadn't expected to win so easily, or at all. Jim was the more rational of the two and tended to use his patience to wear John down and win arguments. Even when John was right, Jim's tactic often worked.
"But – " Jim added quickly. "Dean did not cause that accident and you shouldn't blame him."
"Dean should have known better than to take Sammy with him."
"John, you can't keep putting Dean in the role of parent and then be angry about his choices. You know that boy would just as soon cut off his right arm than let anything happen to his brother."
John took a long swig of the beer.
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"How are you feeling?" Dean asked.
"Dean –"
"The ice will keep the swelling down." Dean said as he adjusted the bag ice even though it didn't need to be adjusted.
Sam noticed that Dean didn't look him in the eye. He knew their father's attitude hurt his brother, but Dean would never admit it.
"The pills should kick in soon." Dean continued. "If you need something stronger –"
"Come on, man, stop fussing. I'm fine."
Dean left with the bag of ice alone and sat back on the couch next to his brother.
"Hey, Dean?" Sam began uncertainly after a few minutes of silence.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"For what?" Dean asked, still not looking at him.
"For finishing the job and taking care of my ankle. I should have been more careful around those stairs."
Sam knew there was nothing he could say to make Dean feel any better. Ever since he could remember, Dean had taken care of him and blamed himself for any injury, no matter how small. He felt like he had to say something, though, because he could see how sad his brother was.
"It's my job to look out for you, Sammy. I should have been watching you better."
Normally a comment like that from Dean would have been met with annoyance, but Sam could see he was upset, so he let it slide. He hated the way their father often shut Dean out, but he hated the way Dean let it happen even more.
"You know, man, I'm not a little kid anymore. I have to look out for myself on jobs."
"You just need more training."
Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm sure that's exactly what I'll get after my ankle heals."
"Dad's tough but he has his reasons."
"He's tougher on you."
"Let it go, Sammy."
"It's not fair."
"I said let it go." Dean said angrily. A moment later he looked at his brother, anything but anger in his eyes.
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"You're too hard on him." Jim said as he took the burgers off the grill and breaking the awkward silence.
"I have my reasons."
"You're going to push him too far one of these days."
"He knows where he belongs."
"John –"
"Look, Jim, you're a good friend and I appreciate everything you've done for me and the boys. But I have to handle them how I think best."
Jim looked at him.
"Fine. I'll talk to Dean." John sighed.
"Good. I knew you'd do the right thing." Jim said and walked into the house with the plate of burgers.
"Stay put." Dean said to Sam as he started to stand. "I'll bring it to you."
"I want cheese on the hamburger."
"I know." Dean said as he walked into the kitchen.
"I forgot something outside." Jim said, looking pointedly at John. "Go ahead and start."
John watched as Dean went about putting Sam's dinner together.
"Dean."
He stopped what he was doing and turned to face his father.
"Tell me again what happened with the poltergeist."
"I should have –"
"No, Dean. Tell me what happened with the poltergeist; not what you think you did wrong."
"It started out okay even though the thing was constantly tossing stuff at us. We almost finished the cleansing when it just went crazy and started tossing things off the wall and the shelves. We were headed out to regroup when it pushed Sammy down the stairs."
"But you said you finished the job?"
Dean nodded. "I got Sammy out to the car and went back."
"You did good."
Dean looked at his father, surprised, but turned the emotion inward. He nodded. "Thank you."
"Now let's eat before it all gets cold." John said.
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After they ate, John and Jim shared a couple of beers on the back porch while Sam and Dean watched a movie and played cards.
Fifteen years ago, when Sam was six months old, John watched as his wife burned in a fire. It wasn't a normal fire and she didn't die in any normal way. He'd been asleep downstairs in front of the television when he heard her yell. He rushed upstairs to find nothing out of the ordinary; Sam was awake in his crib and cooing happily. But something wet fell onto the baby's pillow. And then onto John's hand. When he looked up, he saw Mary pinned to the ceiling and bleeding. It was impossible, but yet there it was. When she burst into flames he heard Dean yelling and he knew he had to do something to save the boys. Mary's boys.
He grabbed Sammy from the crib and put him into Dean's arms. "Take your brother and run, Dean, as fast as you can!"
The four-year-old didn't hesitate; not even for a second. He took Sammy and ran from the house. From that moment on, he was more than Sam's big brother. He was the baby's protector and Sammy was his responsibility.
John stood just inside the doorway, watching his sons. He had nearly been destroyed by Mary's death; by the way she died. The only thing that kept him going, and at first, he was only barely surviving, was his sons. Dean didn't talk for a few weeks after it happened, but every night he would crawl up into John's lap, and was content just to sit with him. Sometimes they would sit on the couch, with Sammy between them.
John worried the longer Dean didn't speak. He worried when he started to find the boy asleep in Sammy's crib, his arm around the baby protectively. He worried when he started seeing what he would later describe as evil around every corner. He wasn't so much scared for himself as he was for the boys. He knew Mary didn't die in any ordinary fire and he was afraid that whatever had killed her would come back for them – for Sammy.
Once John started to understand what he was seeing and knew the ghosts and other beings were real, he worried for his boys even more. The more he learned, the more he needed to teach his sons. They had to learn how to protect themselves from the dangers that most people only imagined. Dean became proficient with firearms almost before he could lift them. He learned how to use all sorts of knives and learned how to fight. When Sam got older, Dean taught him the same skills.
It occasionally crossed John's mind that Dean was too protective of his little brother; more involved than just a brother should be. He unwittingly took on a parenting role even though he was only four years older and just a child himself. And John let him do it. He even encouraged it. As John became more obsessed with finding the thing that killed Mary, he left more and more responsibility to Dean. The older boy shouldered it well and not only took care of Sammy; he took care of his father.
John had been on his way home from handling an exorcism when he got Jim's phone call about Sam being injured. He was only an hour away from the pastor's home, but made it there in record time. Jim told him it was only a sprained ankle, but John had to see for himself. He didn't understand why, but he had always somehow known that protecting Sam was the most important thing he could do; that was something he'd managed to pass onto Dean without ever saying a word about it.
He sped back to Jim's even though he knew he was running the risk of being stopped by the police and he felt like he held his breath the entire way. He didn't feel right until he had examined Sam's injuries for himself and was satisfied he was safe.
It had been a long time since he'd been so angry with Dean. He'd been too angry to even speak to the boy when he got to Jim's. There was only one other time that he felt Dean had been irresponsible in his care of Sammy. John left the boys alone in a motel room while he went off on a job. Dean was only nine; much too young to be alone and in charge of his four year old brother, but it wasn't the first time John left them alone. Though he sometimes left them with Jim, often times they would be left to their own devices.
John closed his eyes briefly, remembering how he rushed into the motel room just in time to save Sam from the Shtriga that was, in effect, stealing his boy's life force. He wasn't there to see Dean calmly pick up the rifle that was filled with rock salt and point it at the thing causing harm to his brother. All he saw was what he thought was Dean hesitating….John shot at it, but the monster got away. He sat on the edge of Sammy's bed, gathered him into his arms and glared at his older son. Not long after, he silently packed them up and drove them to Jim's, about three hours away. When he went back, the Shtriga was nowhere to be found. His days of silence and disapproving stares were more punishment to Dean than anything else he could have done.
John watched his sons and thought about what Jim said; that some day he would push Dean too far. He didn't love his older son any less than he loved Sam, but somehow he knew that Sam had to be protected and it was up to Dean to do it. He wiped away a stray tear and cleared his throat. The boys looked over at him.
It's getting late."
"Yes, sir." they replied in unison.
"How's your ankle feeling, Sammy?"
"It hurts some, but not too bad."
"Have you taken anything else for it?"
"Yes, sir. Dean got me something a little while ago."
"Good. Let me and your brother help you; I don't want you to put any weight on it yet." John said as Dean got to his feet. Together they moved Sam to the bedroom where he was able to maneuver himself to get ready for bed.
The boys certainly didn't need to be tucked in, but John waited until they were settled. He sat on the edge of Dean's bed and the three talked about nothing in particular for a few minutes. There were far too few moments like this between John and his sons, but the father wouldn't allow himself to think about that. It was too hard to be strong when he let himself think that way.
After several minutes, John patted Dean on his leg as he stood up. "Sleep well, boys. I'll see you in the morning."
Sam looked over at his brother as John closed the door.
"What the hell was that?" he asked.
Dean reached for the lamp between their beds. "It was just Dad, man."
"Whatever." Sam sighed.
"I've told you before that he's doing the best he can. Give him a break."
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Dean had a hard time falling asleep and, once he did, he was plagued by dreams. Normally, he wasn't affected by the job and rarely remembered any dreams he had. He didn't like seeing his brother get hurt, no matter how insignificant the injury might be. He knew Sam's ankle would heal in no time, but he couldn't help but feel responsible. After being startled awake by the vision of Sammy falling down the stairs, Dean quietly got out of bed. He stood over Sam, watching him for a moment, before pulling the blanket more securely around him. Sam stirred, but didn't wake up.
The older brother paced in the living room for a few minutes, then grabbed a beer from the kitchen and settled at the small table. He looked up a moment later when Jim walked into the room.
"Are you all right?"
Dean only nodded.
The pastor poured himself a glass of water and sat across from his young friend. He had known Dean for a long time and had taken pleasure in watching him grow from a shy boy into the confident man who now sat in front of him. The only thing that could sway his confidence was any kind of disapproval from his father.
"Sammy sleeping?"
"Yeah. He's fine."
"He's fine, but you're worried."
Dean smiled sadly, then went back to staring at the beer.
"You know you didn't do anything wrong. You've gone over it in your head a hundred times, I'm sure, and you can't find one thing you should have done differently."
Jim waited, but Dean didn't respond.
"If you'd headed for the stairs, it probably would have pushed you instead of Sam, but I'm betting that's the only thing that you could have changed."
"If there's a choice between me getting hurt and Sammy getting hurt, it should be me."
"None of us wants to see someone we love get hurt." Jim said pointedly. "Maybe I shouldn't have sent you to that house."
"Is Dad mad at you?" Dean asked, still staring at the beer.
"Your dad spends most of his time mad at me for some reason or another." Jim chuckled. "I've gotten used to it."
After a few minutes of silence, Jim continued. "John is a good man, Dean, but he's a hard man. He's seen a lot and he's done a lot of things. He wants you and your brother to be tough so you can handle the same kinds of things because he thinks that's the way it has to be. Maybe it does; I don't know. But he's scared for you both and sometimes that fear comes across as anger."
"I know." Dean said quietly. "But –"
"But what, Dean?" Jim prompted after a moment.
The boy shook his head. "Nothing."
Jim wanted to reach out to Dean, to rest a hand on his arm, but he knew Dean would only pull away. John sometimes put a hand on his shoulder and once in a while they shared a hug, but Dean was uncomfortable with physical displays affection from anyone other than his father or brother.
He decided to sit quietly with Dean, offering him the only solace he could.
"Sammy is important, Jim. There's something special about him and I know we have to protect him because of it."
"Your dad tell you that?"
Dean looked at him. "Not exactly. He's always told me it was my job to look after him, but that's all. I don't know if Dad understands it himself, but he knows, too. Maybe we're protecting him from the thing that killed our mom or maybe because he has some important thing to do some day. I don't know."
Jim leaned forward. "You might be right, Dean, I don't know either. But if he does have some destiny to fulfill, then yours is just as important."
Dean looked away and again, Jim wanted to touch him. He knew that John had the same feeling about Sam; they had talked about it countless times over the years. John was desperate to find the thing that killed Mary, but he told Jim he didn't think it was up to him to kill it. He didn't know why, but he felt that somehow it would be up to Sam and that Dean's purpose was to make sure Sam made it to the battle. John only explained this to his oldest son in the most vague terms and in some misguided attempt at protection, neither one would talk to Sam.
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Two days later, Sam's ankle had healed enough for the Winchesters to move on. Even the safety of Jim's house didn't entice them to stay for very long. There was always another job, always another hunt. This time they were headed to Minnesota to meet Caleb, another good friend, to investigate disappearances outside a small town.
Even though John had eased up his attitude toward Dean, he had said nothing to ease the tension between them. But like Dean always did, he pushed whatever negative feelings he had aside and moved on. Despite John's harshness, Dean never doubted his father's love. Jim knew that he sometimes lost sight of it, but he never doubted it.
The harder John was with Dean, the more Sam resented him for it. Jim knew there was trouble coming for those two, but John was too stubborn to listen to him. Jim occasionally got through to him about Dean, like he had about blaming Dean for Sam's ankle, but he'd never been able to make John listen to him about Sam.
He stood on the porch as John pulled away in the Impala, the car he'd had since before the boys were born. That car was the most stable home either boy ever knew and that thought made Jim incredibly sad.
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Caleb didn't know what they were hunting, but he had been studying it for days. It didn't appear to be male or female. It didn't seem to be quite corporeal, but he hadn't observed any particular powers other than speed and strength. He'd seen it lift a grown man and carry it deeper into the woods. If it knew Caleb was following, it gave no indication.
He knew of at least four men being held in a cave in a remote area, but he didn't know how to rescue them. They seemed to be cared for; they were fed and given water yet definitely not staying of their own accord. He was pacing in his motel room when John and the boys arrived.
"What happened to you, Slick?" he asked Sam as the boy limped into the room.
"Poltergeist pushed me down a flight of stairs." Sam answered. He sat in the nearest chair and started turning his foot in circles to loosen the ankle.
"Have you found out anything else?" John asked as he walked in and closed the door behind him. Dean took a seat near his brother.
"I don't know what the hell it is, John, but it's definitely holding at least four men."
"Any idea why?"
The younger hunter shook his head.
"No idea what it is?"
"I thought it was some kind of ghost, but it's somewhat solid. Not completely, but some." Caleb shrugged, frustrated. "I've seen it leave footprints."
"And you're sure it's not human?" Dean asked.
"I can see through it in certain light. And it's definitely not male or female."
John rubbed his face. "Can't you ever find anything normal?"
Caleb grinned. "What's the matter, John? Not interested in a challenge?"
John only looked at him.
After a moment, Caleb handed Sam a sheet of paper. "That's everything I've noticed about the thing. There's a pretty decent library in the next town –"
Sam looked at his father.
John nodded. "You two are on research."
Dean didn't relish the idea of spending the afternoon in a library, but he recognized research as an important part of the job. He'd much rather be doing something physical, though. He took the keys from his father and helped Sam out to the car.
TBC