When You Were Young

A sort of tag for season 4 episode "In the Beginning". John looks at his eldest and sees an old memory. Set pre-series. John's POV. Possible Spoilers.

I have been absent from the world of fan fiction for a little while but I really wanted to get back into it so I thought I would do it by writing a one shot that I've been thinking about for awhile.

Leaning against the doorway of the rundown motel, I raised the beer in my hand to my lips and took a long drink before chasing it down with the crisp autumn air. My eyes landed on Dean as he finished up cleaning down the Impala, his sleeves rolled up and his jeans half soaked from the water that the tarmac underneath his feet now lapped up. It was one of those rare autumn days where the sun was scorching hot and the wind was damn near non-existent – one of those rare days where we were in no hurry to be moving on, not just yet.

"You missed a spot," I called out, my eyebrow raised as I tilted my bottle towards the smudge just above the left headlight. Without replying he pulled the cloth out from the back pocket of his jeans and rubbed the smudge away, sending me a quick glance to dare me to try and point out any other so called 'spots' that he'd missed. But the look was gone before I even had a proper chance to register it, replaced by a more obedient and subservient one.

That was Dean all over. I had no doubt that if I were Sam the look would have stayed firmly in place. But Sam was gone and I doubted that he would ever come back, not willingly anyway. Yep, Sam was gone, leaving me and Dean behind. And we were coping, maybe not as well as before but things were okay.

Turning back into the room briefly, I grabbed another bottle and held it out for him to take as he backed away from his pride and joy and came to stand with me by the doorway. He smiled momentarily, something rare and precious in itself, something that I treasured more than he would ever know. He smiled and took the beer, opening it with ease and taking a quick sip.

"Told you all she needed was just a bit of TLC." He finally said, referring to the conversation we had had the previous night. There hadn't been much to it, just a simple remark about the state of the car. And of course, Dean took it to heart. I really should learn to be more careful with what I say to him, but after spending the last twenty years as their drill sergeant, sometimes I forget I'm a father as well. "Car of a lifetime," he added wistfully, the smile returning along with a shine in his eyes.

And I looked at him, about to add my own comment to his but I froze, damn near dropping my beer as my heart seemed to plunge into my stomach, my breath momentarily taken away, words momentarily stolen as I stared into a memory I had long since forgotten. How could I have never noticed? How could I have missed it? It was so obvious but so impossible at the same time. A simple twist of words and a twinkling of hazel eyes – that was all it took to trigger that memory from long ago.

Realisation slowly dawned on me and I struggled to catch my breath, eyes stinging as I forced back the tears that so desperately wanted to spill and mourn the loss of a young man who didn't deserve to be lost – if anything he deserved to be found and saved. The longer I stared, the more sure of myself I became but as Dean narrowed his gaze and looked at me from the corner of his eye, I had to force myself to turn away and look out back towards the Impala.

He placed his bottle on the window sill beside him and pushed away from the doorway, pulling the cloth out of his pocket once again as he moved back over to his black beauty to start work on under the hood. He must have thought my strange watchfulness was a sign for him to finish what he started – oh, if he only knew what was going through my mind at that moment. Even I couldn't fully comprehend it. But instead of seeing Dean Winchester's hand caressing the smooth paintwork, I saw the hand of a Dean Van Halen on a car in need of much work.

Sure, there were differences between the pair of them. Van Halen had looked older, not by much, but definitely older. And he had the eyes of a tired man who had been worn down and broken so many times that it was a wonder he had been able to stand there and hold a conversation without shattering into a thousand fragile pieces.

That was who my son was meant to become?

Because there was no doubting it. Van Halen? That was proof enough right there. Those rock aliases were going to get him into trouble one day, I just hoped that it wasn't one day soon.

The sound of a ringtone broke me from my thoughts and my gaze drifted away from my eldest and into the motel room, where my cell phone sat vibrating on the table top. I moved towards it, reaching it just in time for the caller to be sent to voicemail. Typical, just typical. Picking it up, I pulled it open and looked at the name on the screen.

Roadhouse.

That could only mean one thing. They had news. This was perfect, this was my chance. If I could just figure everything out, if I could find the son of a bitch that killed Mary… maybe I would save both my sons from this life. Maybe Dean Winchester would never have to be a broken Dean Van Halen.

The phone started again, tinny music echoing through tiny speakers as the thing vibrated in my hand, 'Roadhouse' flashing across the screen begging for me to answer. I swallowed hard and pressed the answer button, walking further into the room, my voice dropping so that Dean wouldn't overhear.

He'd mentioned something about a possible hunt down in New Orleans anyway. Maybe I'd find all my missing pieces while he was checking that out. Maybe I could kill the damn demon without him or Sam having to be involved. Because there was only one reason I could think of that would explain why my son had somehow found his way into the past, and that was to change the present, or in this case, the future.

But if I could stop that future from happening by getting to the demon first, if I could stop if from happening by distancing him from that particular hunt, then maybe he wouldn't have to go back. Maybe when I looked into his eyes in four years time I wouldn't see the broken man that had seen too much, surely I owed him that much.

Thank you for reading