The Bottom of the Bottle.
Disclaimer: is it me, or does it get more depressing every time we write one of these?
He had never been much of a drinker.
Sure, he had appreciated a cold beer after a hard day's work as much as the next guy, but it had never been more than that. He never got drunk. Never felt he needed to.
Thought it was for pussy's, to tell you the truth.
"You got troubles, you deal with them", he'd say. "You don't try and sink 'm."
But that was then, and this was now. And 'now' meant he needed that damn drink. Let's see you chase around a damn poltergeist, without needing a drink afterwards.
Exactly.
He still doesn't drink to try and drown his sorrows. He's done some reading. Knows sorrows can swim.
Most people drink to forget.
John Winchester drinks to remember.
You see, with every job he works, he manages to force it to the back of his mind.
With every monster he kills, he manages to forgive himself.
It's what gets those monsters killed and those people saved.
It's what makes the world a little more bearable.
What gets him through the day.
But in the quiet hours of the morning, by the light of the approaching dawn, it all comes back.
Because that's when he sits down, pours himself a drink and makes himself remember.
Every parent-teacher night he'd missed and every good grade he'd never rewarded.
Every nightmare he didn't soothe and every meal he never cooked.
Every hug he didn't give them and every shoulder he never offered.
Every fear he didn't quelch and every toy he never bought.
Every single thing they deserved to have but would never get.
He wants to remember them all.
So, he drinks.
He drinks to remember the father he'll never be.
Well...this was weird. It was just suddenly there.
Thanks for reading!! Let me know what you think?
Holly