Title: Mourning Skye
Author: MissAnnThropic
Spoilers: set in the Skyeverse (surrounding my fic "Wild by Skye")
LiveJournal: miss_annthropic(dot)livejournal(dot)com
Summary: When Dean reunites with his father after months of hunting solo, John knows something happened to his oldest son while they were apart, but Dean won't talk about it.
Timeline: See the last chapter of "Wild by Skye" for a chronological listing of Skyeverse fics to know where exactly this falls in the timeline. Or, you know, just read the fic and figure it out! Or eat pie. I know which one Dean would vote for.
Disclaimer: None of it's mine. I'm just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching DVDs of her favorite shows :(
Author's Note: This makes absolutely no sense, because I hate John Winchester, but this fic – with all its John Winchesterness – is my favorite ficlet in the Skyeverse ("Wild by Skye", of course, standing apart and on its own). What up with that?!
"What do you want, Jim?" John Winchester's gruff, brusque tone greeted his long-time hunting friend, Pastor Jim Murphy, when he recognized the priest's number on his ringing cell phone.
"Hello to you too, John," Pastor Jim returned dulcetly, just shy of out-and-out sarcastic. "You don't sound very happy to hear from me."
"Sorry… just, caught me at a bad time, that's all."
"Seems there's never anything but a bad time with you."
"You call just to point that out?" John growled.
Pastor Jim had no immediate retort to that, and when he did finally answer his tone was that of the father. "You thought I was Dean, didn't you?"
"Hoped, really," John confessed. John always told Jim more than he ought to… he figured it was that whole confessional vibe the pastor put out. It got people, even people like John Winchester, to talk. Besides, so far confiding in Jim had yet to blow up in John's face. There were precious few people about which John Winchester could say as much.
"How long has it been since you last heard from him?"
John didn't care to think about it.
"About three weeks, I guess."
"You're worried about him." It wasn't a question.
Yes.
"Dean's a sharp kid, he can take care of himself," John grumbled, but his heart wasn't in it. He was worried. Almost three weeks… it was a long time not to hear from Dean. He got that Dean was upset that Sam left, but still, three weeks…
"Want me to put out some feelers, try to track him down for you?" Jim asked.
Yes.
John sighed. "No… Dean said he needed some time by himself. I owe the kid that much."
There was a thick silence between the two men.
"Dean's not mad at you, you know."
John chuckled mirthlessly. "Sure he is, and at Sam, and at the world, too. Shit, truth is, Jim… this family was always just on the edge of flying apart. Me and Sam… this bomb was just waiting to go off. Dean was always the one trying to hold us together." John scowled down at his gun, lying in parts on the motel mattress for cleaning. "Sam should never have left." It was reckless and dangerous to go, but Sam would not be swayed. Then Sam was forcing the issue, screaming about college and getting away, and John just lost the last of his patience and gave his youngest the final shove out the door. It was going to happen anyway, and John would rather it be on his terms than Sam's. Somehow, it made John feel like he had an iota of control over the situation.
"You shouldn't blame the boy," Jim scolded gently.
"Well, who the hell should I blame then? No one had this hair-brained idea of college but him."
"Going to college isn't that crazy a dream for someone Sam's age," Pastor Jim pointed out.
John felt the anger of that night, of that fight, all over again. John remembered it so vividly. He might have said some things he didn't actually mean, but the kid had really made him angry. John had never met someone who could get under his skin and infuriate him the way Sam could.
And yet, John still loved the kid more than life itself.
Parenthood was weird like that.
"But Sam knows better," John said hotly. "He knows what's out there. He knows that apple-pie, picket fence life is just a lie. All he's doing is sticking his head in the sand, and ignoring what's out there won't make it go away. It'll just end up getting him killed."
"There is that," Jim conceded in an even voice, sounding maddeningly neutral about the greatest disaster since the fire in the Winchester family.
"I'm just trying to protect my boys!" John snarled. "How does that make me the monster?"
"You're not."
John snorted. "Sam sure thinks so. You'd think I cursed him, the way he was yelling about how cruel I was, how heartless and insensitive."
"You did tell him that if he left, he couldn't come back."
"I'm sorry I ever told you about that," John seethed. "That'll teach me to get drunk with you in a moment of weakness."
"You needed someone to talk to. I'm good for that."
John rubbed at his brow with one hand. "I didn't mean what I said to Sam, you know I didn't."
"I know… but does Sam?"
John sighed. "You know, there was a day when I wouldn't doubt my boys knew that I loved them. But now..." John shook his head. "Sam left so angry, and now Dean's…"
"Missing," Jim provided.
John stiffened. "Not missing. Just… somewhere."
What a mess.
Bad enough that Sam blew up and stormed out, but Dean left, too.
That one wasn't permanent. It wasn't a parting cleaved with sharp words and ultimatums. Dean would come back; he just needed some time alone.
It didn't shock the Winchester patriarch that there was fallout from Sam's abrupt departure. John knew his boys were close. When Sam rebelled, John was insulated against the pain by a shield of anger. Dean didn't have any such barrier between him and his baby brother. Sam up and leaving the family cut Dean to the bone. And because John was the only one there to be mad at after Sam was gone, Dean was mad at John.
But Dean didn't do 'angry at John Winchester' well, so instead of fighting with his father, he fled. Said he'd be back, packed up his duffel, and left in the Impala.
That was three months ago. John still talked to his oldest son on the phone once in a while, updating each other on their hunts and their well-being (as that term applied to a Winchester), but Dean made it clear he wasn't ready to return, and John didn't push Dean to come back.
Because Dean would come back on his own, John let him have his space. With Sam, John knew the break could be irrevocable, so he had held on that much tighter.
For all the good that did.
"You know, you could just try calling Dean."
"How do you know I haven't tried already?" John asked, touchy.
Jim chuckled. "Because I know you, John. If you have tried calling him, I'll eat the Book of Genesis."
John smirked at that mental image, then he slowly frowned. "Dean said he needed time alone. I won't push him."
"That's very patient and kind of you… maybe you might show Sam some of that understanding. It could go a long way toward fixing things."
"But I understand Dean; Sam I don't understand." John sighed. "Besides, giving Dean space and giving Sam space are two entirely different beasts." John glowered at the cruelty of the universe. Then he was resolute in his actions. "Sam made his decision, now he has to live with it. I'm just waiting to see what Dean will do."
Secretly, a part of John half-expected Dean to follow Sam to Stanford. His oldest boy loved hunting, but he also knew the only thing Dean loved more than the hunt was his little brother. Keeping Sam safe was a job of higher priority than hunting evil for Dean, always had been since the day of the fire. John wouldn't be surprised if Dean holed up in California, just to watch out for Sam.
It almost surprised John when he started getting short calls from Dean telling him he was on a hunt in Somewhere, USA, and not squatting somewhere within five miles of Sam at college.
Then almost three weeks ago, this interminable silence began.
But John didn't want to push his oldest. Dean said he needed time by himself, and John was determined to give him that. Somehow, giving Dean freedom was the only sure-fire way to get him to come back. Turn Sam loose and he'd run forever, right into the sun. Dean would cavort a while but he always stopped and turned back for home. In terms from a lifetime ago that John once knew, Sam was the dog that bolted out the door at the first chance and disappeared; Dean was the dog that wouldn't leave the yard.
Dean would come home, John was certain of that.
Never mind that home was a car.
"He won't stay gone long," Jim assured, "that boy idolizes you."
"Not anymore, not after what happened between me and Sam."
"I'm not so sure about that."
"You didn't see his face, Jim. When I said… what I did… to Sam. Dean looked like I'd stabbed him."
"Family bonds are stronger than we think. Wounds heal, my friend," Pastor Jim said simply.
John thought of Sam leaving so full of fury and forever. "Not all."
After a pause, Jim said, "I have to go, John, but let me know if you want me to find Dean for you."
It was so tempting… it was a great act of faith in Dean for John to say, "Thanks, but I'll give him a few more days."
"I'll pray for both your boys," Jim said in parting.
John dropped his phone with a heavy frown, wondering which of his sons would need it the most.
To Be Continued…