Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural do not belong to me.
"I said no, Samuel! You're not going, and that's final!"
Dean braced himself for the outrage from Sam, and Sam did not disappoint.
"I should have known better than to think you'd actually act like a father right now."
Dean bit his lip to keep from exploding himself. It was like Sam was baiting him to join the fight, but Dean refused to fall for it. Sam knew that it set Dean's teeth on edge when Sam suggested that John was a bad father. He tried his best, he really did. Sam wouldn't see it through all the rage and the hormones and the screaming, but Dean did. That disappointed look he had in his eye every time he came back from a hunt and he hadn't found the thing that killed Mary. Every time they were stuck in their lives for another day.
Dean also saw what the fighting with Sam did to their dad. How it tore him up, left him raw on the inside. How badly he wanted nothing more than to give Sam everything he wanted under the sun. How big of a failure of a father he already felt he was, without Sam screaming it at him.
But for everything Dean wished Sam would see about John, there was equally as much he wished John would see about Sam. How even though he hid it well under layer upon layer of hormones, angst, and anger. How much Sam truly cared for John. How the boy buried himself in schoolwork because it gave him something to think about and helped stave off nightmares. How convinced he was that John only saw him as a screw up, and how deeply that hurt Sam. How he felt he had to earn his father's love, but how confused that made him because he didn't have to earn Dean's.
How even though John couldn't give John everything he wanted, he could easily give Sam what he really wanted. A hug out of nowhere, for no reason whatsoever. Praise for something, so he knew that he was capable of making his dad happy. Realize that just because Sam's schooling wasn't more important than hunting didn't mean that it wasn't important. Realize that Sam wasn't stupid. That he knew that a normal life was out of the question for all of them. That what he really wanted was to have a piece of the "normal" that John and Dean had both gotten to have with Mary, even if he couldn't keep it.
What Dean really hoped his father would get was that if he would stop yelling, grab Sam in a tight hug and say "I'm sorry, I love you, please don't leave me," Sam would likely stay behind-at least until the next time they were at each other's throats. But it just wasn't in John Winchester's nature to ask for anything, so the fight would go on. And Dean would have to be damage control.
"I am your father, whether you like it or not, Sammy." John answered.
"For the thousandth time, my name is Sam. And if you're my father, then act like it! Why the hell is it so hard for you to be happy for me!?"
"It's not all about you, Sam!" John replied. "This family doesn't revolve around you!"
"You've made that abundantly clear, Dad. You have made it known to the world that my happiness doesn't mean a damn thing to you."
"Sam, that's not true…"
"Then prove it. Let me do what I want to do my own life." Sam said. "And I know it's a stretch for you, but maybe tell me that you're proud of me."
Come on, Dad, do it. Tell Sam you're proud of him like you mean it. It might make all the difference, Dean thought.
"No, Sam. You're not going." John stubbornly repeated.
"Why?"
Dean braced himself again. Why? was the question that sent John over the edge. He simply did not explain himself. A John Winchester edict was set in stone the moment it left John's mouth. The standard answer of because I said so just never cut it with Sam, and with the palpable tension in the room at the moment, Dean was afraid the house would explode.
Which made what John said next cause Dean to be certain hell had frozen over.
"I want nothing but the best for you, Sam. I'm sorry you don't see that. But why can't you trust me that I'm just trying to keep you safe?"
"Because you are not trying to keep me safe, you're trying to control me. I can keep myself safe, Dad. And newsflash, I don't trust you."
"What?" John asked, and Dean could hear the hurt in his voice.
"I don't trust you, Dad, because you told me that when I turned eighteen I could leave. Now that it's time to actually keep your word, you're going back on it. What does that make you, Dad?"
Dean remembered that fight. It had been four years earlier, after Sam had run away to Flagstaff. Dean predicted John's response well.
"It makes you a liar."
"I said if you did your best to help us. I would consider letting you leave. You've done nowhere near your best."
Damn it, Dad, Dean thought. Yes, he has.
"Bullshit I haven't." Sam seethed.
"Don't curse at me, boy. I'm still your father."
"So you keep saying." Sam said.
"I've tried being patient with you, boy. Now put this out of your mind if you know what's good for you."
"What are you gonna do, Dad? Tie me up? Drug me?"
"If that's what it takes to you safe." John said.
"I'm leaving." Sam said, turning to go to his room and grab his bag.
"You want to leave and abandon your family?"
"My family that would tie me up and drug to supposedly keep me safe? Yes, in a heartbeat." Sam said.
"Do you not care anything about finding your mother's killer?"
"Don't bring her into this, Dad." Sam said. "If it weren't for the pictures Dean keeps in his wallet, I wouldn't know anything about mom."
"I know she wouldn't want you to leave your family."
"Like she'd want you to drag us across the country on your stupid hunt for revenge…"
Dean had been on the couch, flipping through a magazine, pretending not to hear what was going on with his father and brother. But the sound of an open hand against skin got Dean's feet on the ground and turned around with the speed of light. Sam had a hand to his cheek, and when he pulled it away, there was blood. Dean was now frozen in place. John had hit Sam. Hard enough to draw blood. Not hurt him accidentally during a training session, but actually drawn his hand back and hit him. Not drunk, but completely sober. Dean finally shook himself out of his shock.
"Dad, what the hell?"
John, already regretting what he'd done, moved to check Sam's lip, but Sam flinched sharply. "Don't touch me."
"Sam, I'm sorry…"
"If mom would want me to give up an opportunity like this, or if she would want anything to do with the man you've turned into, then I don't want anything to do with her." Sam said, the tears stubbornly refusing to stay in his eyes like he wanted them to.
But Sam's comment, said mainly in hurt, reignited John's anger. "You want to go, Sam, you go. But if you walk out that door, don't ever come back."
"What?" Sam asked.
"You heard me. You don't come back."
"Dad…" Dean said warily. Screw staying out of it. "You don't mean that."
"The hell I don't." John said. "Make your choice, Sam."
"Fine." Sam said. "I'll be out in five minutes."
"Sam, please. Don't do this."
"I'm leaving, Dean. I hope you realize I'm not trying to leave you permanently…" Sam said.
"Sam, if you're leaving, then go. Don't try to get your brother to cover for you." John said.
Sam turned, went into his room, grabbed his duffel, and left the house slamming the front door behind him. John stood as stony as ever, and turned and grabbed the half empty Jack Daniels bottle still on the coffee table from the night before. Dean, his heart aching and throbbing in his chest at the thought of possibly never seeing his little brother again, started out after him.
"Dean, let him go."
"Dad, we have to go after him." Dean pleaded. "He'll think we don't care about him anymore."
"He doesn't care about us anymore. You heard what he said to me."
"I heard what you said to him too, Dad. That mom wouldn't be proud of him?" Dean asked. "You know that's not true."
"I'm not so sure it is, Dean." John said.
"Damn it, Dad!"
"Watch your mouth. You want to go after your brother so bad, you get the same choice as him. You leave, you don't come back."
Suddenly, remaining neutral went out the window. Dean didn't care about how his dad felt. While Sam may have resisted his father at every turn, Dean was the opposite. Suddenly Sam's point of view came to Dean with crystal clarity. Sam worked his ass off in school and with the research he did on the hunts he was allowed to participate in, but never got any recognition for it. Was this the way Sam felt all the time? If it was, Dean had his own apologies to make.
"You bastard."
John's mouth dropped open and his eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me!" Dean said. "Sam is right. You are an unappreciative, self-serving asshole!"
"Dean, watch it."
"No. Not anymore." Dean said. "I do everything for you. I dropped out of school to help you with hunts, I have dragged your drunk ass out of fights, out of jail, out of bars, driven you to the hospital, stitched you up. Hell, I even raised both of your children."
"I only have two children, Dean."
"I know. I raised myself, and Sam. Tell me I'm wrong." Dean dared him. When John infuriatingly said nothing, Dean simply nodded. "Fine. I'm leaving. I'm going to pick up Sam and drive him to Stanford, then I'm going to Bobby's. Let's see how long you last without me and Sam both."
John knew he was a stubborn jackass. But this just proved it. Dean walked out the door, ten minutes behind Sam, and was gone. He was, fully and completely, alone. And the worst part was, what Sam had said to him was well-deserved.
If mom would want me to give up an opportunity like this, or if she would want anything to do with the man you've turned into, then I don't want anything to do with her.
"Oh, Mary, what have I done?"