SUPERNATURAL
THE HERO
WRITTEN BY: MEMPHIS_HEAT123
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the show. This story is just for fun.
Summary: John's thoughts on Dean being a hero, from childhood into adulthood.
Spoiler: Major spoilers for the first episode of season # 2
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One week before Mary Winchester was killed
John was exhausted, it had been a long and tiring day at the auto shop. He had been home for a half an hour, and was sitting in his recliner watching tv.
"I'll p'tect you!" Four-year-old Dean shouted as he ran into the room. He was wearing a bath towel as a cape, and was brandishing a wooden spoon around as if it were a sword. He jumped in front of his Father's chair and pretended like he was in an intense sword fight.
"What are you doing, son?" John asked smiling at the small boy's antics.
"I'm a super hero." The child said, as he stopped fighting and looked at his Dad.
"I see. And just who are fighting?"
"The Joker, Dr. Octavia, The Riddler, and Evan." Dean said.
"Evan?" That was a super villain John wasn't familiar with. "Who's Evan?"
"He's on that show that makes Mommy cry, she said he was a real bad man." Dean replied. "But I'll p'tect her from him."
John laughed and shook his head. Then his expression turned serious and he leaned forward and whispered. "I just found out that Sabertooth and Magneto has a young woman kidnapped. They are holding her in your bedroom."
"Really!" Dean said, as he took off running towards the stairs. "I'll p'tect her!"
"Well that's one way to get some piece and quiet." Mary laughed as she sat down in her husband's lap.
"What can I say?" John asked, as they kissed. "I am a genius."
"Don't worry, Sammy." Dean's voice filtered trough the baby monitor that was sitting on the coffee table. "I won't let that mean ole s'batooth hurt you."
"I guess Sabertooth traded in the young woman for our Sammy." Mary laughed.
"Looks that way." John agreed. "Wonder what happened to Magneto."
"He's gone, Sammy." Dean's voice said. "You're safe, I got your back."
John listened to his oldest son's voice and his heart swelled with pride. He knew it was just a child playing, but he also knew that if anything bad ever did happen then Dean would indeed have Sam's back. He knew without a doubt that Dean would always look after his baby brother, no matter what.
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One week later, the night of the fire
John ran from Sam's nursery, his baby son in his arms. He had no idea what was happening, how his wife got pinned to the ceiling, how she burst into flames. All he knew was that his wife was gone, and his children were in danger.
John saw Dean in the hallway and rushed to him, placing Sam into his small arms. He knew his wife was dead, but he had to make sure. He had to see if he could save her.
"Take your brother and go outside." John instructed his son. "Now."
Dean looked at the flames coming from Sam's nursery, then at his Dad. Then the young boy clutched the baby close to his thin chest and ran down the stairs and outside into the night.
John tried to go back into the room, but the flames were too intense. His wife really was gone. Mary was dead.
John pushed down the panic and sorrow that was building up inside him, he had to be strong for his boys. With one last look at the burning room, he ran outside. Dean was standing in front of the house, still holding his little brother, staring at the flames bellowing out of the window.
John rushed forward and picked them both up, then ran from the house a second before the flames caused an explosion.
Several minutes later, John was sitting on the trunk of the Impala. He was holding Sammy and Dean was sitting beside him, clinging to his side. Firefighters, police, and onlookers were everywhere. But John paid them no attention. His focus was on the house, which was still smoking in places.
Sam started crying, a loud and mournful sound that caused John's chest to tighten. It was as if the small baby was mourning the loss of his Mom.
"Its okay, Sammy." Dean's voice was sad and thick. "R'member, I've got your back. I won't let anything bad hurt you."
John watched as the four-year-old gently ran a hand down the baby's cheek, quieting his crying.
"I will always p'tect you, Sammy." Dean said, as a tear ran down his face. "I won't ever leave you."
John wiped away the tears that were pooling in his eyes as he watched Dean, his heart once again swelling with pride and with relief. He knew it would be rough from now on, and he knew that things were never going to be the same. But he also knew that he wasn't alone in this. Dean was only a small child, but he knew that the young boy was going to be a big help to him. He knew that he could always depend on Dean.
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Dean is eight and Sam is four
John was sitting at the kitchen table of the house they were currently renting, cleaning a sawed off shot gun. Dean was sitting across from him, doing his math homework. Sam was sitting in the floor, coloring.
"Deeeeean." Sam whined, holing up a broken blue crayon. "It broke."
"So." Dean replied, without looking up from his homework. He didn't want to do the work, he hated schoolwork. He was pretty good in math, but he still hated it. But he knew he had to finish it, especially since his Dad was sitting right there.
"Fix it." The four-year-old said as he stood up and walked to his big brother's side. He laid the broken crayon on the table, right on top of Dean's math book.
"Dude, I'm busy." Dean said. "Besides, you can't fix a broke crayon."
"Deeeeean." Sam whined again.
"Saaaaaam." Dean whined back, looking at him. But as soon as he saw his baby brother's puppy eyes, he caved. "Hang on." Then he jumped up from the table and left the room.
A moment later he returned, with a role of black electric tape. Sam and John both watched as Dean carefully taped the two pieces of blue crayon together then handed it back to Sam.
"There you go tiger." He said. "Just don't squeeze it too hard, or it'll separate again."
"Thank you, Dean." Sam smiled. "I knew you could fix it."
"Course I can." Dean smiled. "Us superheroes can fix anything."
John smiled at the two boys, once again amazed by Dean's patience and kindness towards Sam. Taping together a broken crayon was not exactly an Earth saving act. But to a four-year-old, it was pretty close. Knowing that Dean was so in tuned into his brother's needs, made leaving them alone while he was hunting easier.
John knew it was not fair on Dean, knew that he relied on him more then he should. But Dean didn't seem to mind. The young boy shouldered all of the responsibility that was thrust upon him without complaint, and without fail.
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Dean twelve and Sam is eight
John, Dean, and Sam were walking down a sidewalk in a small Texas town. John had his left arm in a sling and was limping slightly, after having a run in with a bad tempered poltergeist.
"Please, someone help!" An elderly women called out from across the street. She was standing under a large oak tree, looking up into the tall branches in horror.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked, looking up at his brother.
"Her cat's probably stuck in the tree." Dean said. "It'll come down."
"We have to help her." Sam said, tugging on Dean's hand.
"I am not climbing up a damn tree just to be scratched by some pissed off cat." Dean said, winching as his Dad's right hand made contact with his jean clad butt. "I mean stupid tree and ticked off cat." He quickly corrected.
"Next time, you will find out what soap tastes like, understand." John warned. He was not pleased with his oldest son's recent vocabulary.
"Yes Sir." Dean said.
"Come on, Dean." Sam said, once again pulling on his hand.
Dean sighed, and then looked up at his Dad for permission. John nodded, and the three Winchesters walked across the street. Several more elderly women had gathered around the tree, apparently that was all that lived in this neighborhood.
"Please help." The frantic woman said, as they reached them. "My granddaughter is in the tree."
"Granddaughter?" Dean asked, as he looked up into the tree. There was a small girl, around four-year-old. She was halfway up the tree and was clinging to a branch.
"I was talking to Mildred and turned around and Sara was gone, then I saw her in the tree." The frantic Grandmother said, as she started crying. "She's scared, she can't climb down."
Without hesitation, Dean quickly pulled off his leather jacket and handed it to Sam. Then he started climbing up the tree.
"Be careful son." John said, as Dean climbed.
John watched as his oldest son skillfully climbed the tree, reaching the girl within three minutes. He couldn't hear what Dean was saying to the frightened girl, but he could tell that it wasn't working. The small child shook her head and clung tighter to the branch.
Then John watched in amazement as Dean gently removed the girl's arms from around the branch, while he talked to her. Within a few minutes, the girl was sitting up on the branch smiling at Dean.
Dean slowly maneuvered the girl so that she was between the tree and himself, and they started the climb down. John knew that in that position, the girl was not likely to fall to the ground if she lost her balance or her grip. She would just fall back into Dean. And if they both did fall, Dean would be able to wrap his arms around the younger child and cushion her fall.
"Take my hand Sara." John said, as his son and the girl made it close to the ground. He used his uninjured arm and helped the girl down the rest of the way. Then Dean jumped to the ground.
"My baby." The elderly woman exclaimed, as she knelt in front of the girl and wrapped her in a hug.
"Good job son." John said, as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
Suddenly, all of the elderly women were surrounding the young boy. All of them were congratulating him, hugging him, and kissing him on the cheek. John stepped back and couldn't contain the smirk on his face, as he watched Dean squirm under all of the attention.
"You should be real proud of your son." One of the women told John. "He is a hero."
"I know." John said, watching his oldest son. "I know."
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Dean at fifteen
John and Dean slowly made their way through the dense woods, both were heavily armed. They knew that there was a vengeful spirit haunting the woods, and that it had five people trapped away somewhere. If they were still alive.
John stopped walking, and Dean immediately stopped also. John motioned to the right and Dean spotted a small cabin set in a clearing. They knew that it had to be the cabin that the spirit was murdered in, and that if the legend was right, the spirit's body was buried behind the cabin.
"Please!" A voice screamed from inside the cabin. "Someone help us!"
John motioned for Dean to circle around the cabin and the teenager immediately nodded and did as he was told. John circled around the other way.
"Help!" Another voice screamed out. "There's got to be someone who can hear us!"
Father and son met up again at the back of the cabin. They peered through the filthy window and saw that the five missing people were indeed alive, and tied up. Their wrists were bound and tied to the rafters, leaving their feet dangling an inch above the floor. The ghost was no where to be seen.
"You untie them." John said, nodding towards the back door. "I'll find the grave."
Dean nodded, and he quickly entered the cabin. He knew that He had to hurry, the ghost was probably very close by.
"Oh, thank God." One of the woman exclaimed, as Dean pulled a large knife from it's scabbard on his belt. "Please get us out of here."
"We'll have you safe in no time." Dean assured the woman.
"That thing just left." A man said. "It's…..it's a damn ghost." He still sounded shocked.
Dean had just cut the last one free, when the temperature in the cabin dropped thirty degrees. He replaced the knife, and aimed his sawed off shot gun.
One of the women screamed when the ghost appeared. It quickly disappeared when Dean shot it with a round of rock salt.
"Stay behind me." He ordered the people.
Dean was a kid, but the five adults somehow knew that he knew what he was doing. They quickly scrambled behind him.
The ghost appeared again, and Dean once again shot it, causing it to disappear again.
John heard the scream and then heard the gun blast, and he started digging faster. He knew Dean could handle things inside the cabin, knew he could keep the civilians safe. He made it to the coffin and used the shovel to bust trough the rotten wood.
More gun blasts and more screams were heard from inside the cabin. John grabbed the salt and poured it on the decaying bones, then he doused them with gas. John pulled himself out of the grave and lit a match, tossing it onto the bones.
As the bones burned, the gun shots and screams stopped. A moment later, the door to the cabin opened and Dean walked out. The five frightened adults were right behind him, all of them were uninjured.
John knew that the reason they were uninjured was because of his son, Dean kept them safe, kept the ghost away from them.
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During the fist episode of Season # 2. Dean is in a coma, laying in a hospital bed.
John walked into his oldest son's hospital room and couldn't stop the gasp from escaping his lips. Dean looked so fragile, so vulnerable. He looked nothing like the smart mouthed, risk taking, lady's man that John knew.
Dean's skin was pale and he had dark circles under his closed eyes. The pale skin made the bruises stand out even more. Tubes and IVs were attached to his body.
John sat in the chair beside the bed and, seeing his son like that, he made up his mind. He had been battling with the decision for a few hours, but he knew now that he had to do it. He had to make a deal with the yellow eyed bastard that took his Mary from him all those years ago.
Dean didn't deserve to die like this, not this young. He had a whole future ahead of him. He had more people to save. The world needed a hero. The world needed Dean. And so did Sam.
"I love you son." John said softly. "I am so sorry for the life that I forced you into. I know I was more of a drill sergeant then a Father, I know I failed you. You're work isn't done yet, though. You are still needed, more so then you can imagine. Sam needs you, he needs your strength and your love. I don't think I'm strong enough, but you are. You were always the strong one. I am very proud of you, son."
John slowly stood up, and kissed his son's forehead. Something he had not done in many years, too many years. Then he walked out of the room, as tears formed in his eyes. He wasn't afraid of dying, that was not what the tears were for.
The tears were for Dean, for the pain that he knew was coming. He knew that Dean would have many heart wrenching decisions to make, with no real right or wrong choices.
John wasn't sure if he was making the right decision now, wasn't sure if it was right to basically cheat death on his son's behave. But he knew he had to, he had to save Dean. Because he knew that Dean was the only one who could save Sam, or to kill Sam. He hated himself for forcing that decision on Dean. But he knew that he himself wasn't strong enough. It had to be Dean. Dean was the hero. Always has been. And always would be.
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Please tell me what you think. I have many more stories floating around in my head and would love to share them if people like my writing. I am going to start another one in the morning, another Supernatural story.