A Father's Love, a supernatural fanfic

Title: A Father's Love

Rating: T

Summary: Sam and Dean remember how their father showed them he loved them in little ways. Song: A Father's Love by Bucky Covington

Disclaimer: I do not own the show, characters, or the song.

A Father's Love (The Only Way He Knew How)"

For the longest time, I guess I thought he didn't give a damn. Hard to read, hard to please. Yeah, that was my old man. On the day I left for college t was nothing new. We never had that heart-to-heart. He had too much to do.

Sam finished packing and turned to his dad who was looking out the window in anger. When Sam got the scholarship for Stanford he thought John would be proud of him but instead it turned into another heated argument about family loyalty and duty.

Sam was so tired of the life his father was leading them down. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He knew Dean felt it too but his brother loved his father too much to leave. Sam loved John too, but he refused to be his father's perfect soldier.

Sometimes Sam wasn't even sure John did love them and was maybe using them as tools for his revenge. Sam didn't know about monsters till he was eight, but John had been training him since before then, learning how to shoot and run and survival on nothing.

Sam finished packing and turned to Dean one last time.

"Bye, bro," he said.

"Take care of yourself," said Dean.

Sam nodded and held out his hand for Dean to shake. Dean took the hand and pulled him into a hug, holding him tight in goodbye. Sam held him back for a moment before letting go and turning to his dad. John was standing by the table where Sam's carry-on was and was looking out the window. Sighing Sam walked over to the table, closed up his carry-on and shouldered it.

"You can come and visit," he said. "Gave you the address and I'll send over my class schedules so you can when you pass through."

"I'll probably be busy," said John.

Sam grits his teeth. Of course, John'll be busy. He's always busy.

"Right," he said grabbing his duffle. "Good bye, Dad."

John didn't respond as Sam walked out the door.

"I'll drive you," said Dean grabbing the keys to the Impala and followed Sam out.

The drive was wasn't long, but it was silent. Sam had saved up enough money until he got a job. He looked for any store hiring and sent a resume so he could get a job and made interviews over the phone. Finally a department store decided to hire him and he would have a job as soon as he got to Palo Alto.

It was a while later when they finally reached the station and Sam got into the bus. Dean stood outside the bus looking up at Sam sadly. Sam waved as the bus drove away.

He was doing it! He was leaving hunting behind. He only wished he did it on good terms with his father and brother. He loved his dad and his brother but the life they want him to have was too secretive and too full of lies. He lost so many potential friendships because they kept moving around.

He had been sitting on the bus for a couple hours when he got hungry and pulled out his carry on to take out the snacks he packed for the trip. There was also a book in there he would like to read to pass the time. He reached into the bag to grab the snacks when he saw a small manila envelope. Curious he pulled it out and opened it.

It was full of money and a picture of him, Dean, John and Mary outside their house in Lawrence, taken the week before Mary died. For a moment Sam wondered how it had gotten into his bag, and then remembered John standing next to Sam's carry-on.

Smiling softly he put the money and picture back down deep in his bag and took out a granola bar to eat and pulled out his book.

He checked the air in my tires. The belts and all the spark plug wires . Said "When the hell's the last time you had this oil changed?" And as I pulled out the drive he said "Be sure and call your mom sometime." And I didn't hear it then but I hear it now. He was saying "I love you" the only way he knew how.

Thirteen year old Dean leaned against the door looking out at his father as John worked on the Impala. Dad always gave it a tune up before they got on the road so it wouldn't breakdown on the highway and forced them to call a tow truck. John wanted to live off the radar and that meant being as inconspicuous as possible.

The car was one of the few items left from their old life. Two months after Mary's death John sold the house, the mini-van, packed up the Impala with a few mementos and took off with his two sons. Even at a young age, Dean remembered those first few months on the road as John learned how to hunt monsters from Daniel Elkins. It was a hard life, but not a bad life. Sammy hardly cried at all and Dean took on the responsibility of taking care of Sammy so John could hunt whatever monster he ad found. He even took on the responsibility from the baby-sitters, which some were in awe of, but others were perplexed by. Dean never left Sam's side the first couple years unless to go to school, and immediately looked for Sammy when he came home. A lot of the baby-sitters called it odd, but they didn't know what Dean did.

Dean watched as John pulled out a wrench and started worked on a socket. Dean loved the Impala, but was too afraid to ask how to fix it. The Impala was Dad's and only Dad got to touch it. All Dean could do was watch.

There was a clatter and John cursed. He reached into the engine in frustration but couldn't quite reach his fallen socket wrench. His hand was too big to fit through the space.

"Damn!" he cursed. He looked over at his son. "Dean, come here."

Dean eagerly went to his father's side. Sammy was inside safely behind salt lines doing his homework.

John set the tool box closer to the book and Dean stepped up on it.

"Reach in there and grabbed the wrench," John ordered and Dean reached in and grabbed the wrench, easily pulling it out. He looked up at John proudly. "Good job, boy, now go in and watch your brother."

Dean's smile disappeared to disappointed and handed the wrench back.

"Yes, sir," he said and got off the tool back. He headed back to the motel room.

"Wait, Dean, stop." Dean turned around. John waved him back over. "Come back."

Dean hurried back over and John handed him the wrench.

"Here. You should learn how to take care of this," he said. "It'll be yours one day."

"Really," asked Dean in shock and anticipation.

"You and Sam. I wouldn't trust anyone else with it."

"Thanks, Dad!" said Dean.

John softly smiled down at his son before his face became stern again.

"Now, first you need to know the parts of the car…."

120,000 miles and six years down the road. A brand new life and a brand new wife. We'd just bought our first home. When he finally came to visit, I thought he'd be so proud. He never said he liked the place. He just got his tool belt out

"Sam, hurry, you'll be late."

"I'm going, Jessica, I'm going," said Sam with a laugh as he looked through one of the boxes. "Hey, have you seen my laptop?"

"Here," said Jessica with a laugh and Sam turned to see her with his bag.

"Thanks," he said taking it and kissing her in appreciation. "I better go."

"Yeah, me too." She looked around at the stacks of boxes. "A lot to do, huh?"

"Yeah," said Sam looking around. It felt strange to finally have a home after a whole life on the road, but he knew that it'd feel like home after a while, he'd hoped.

"Well, let's go," said Jessica and they walked out.

The day was spent in classes learning law and past court sessions. After that was his job at a local bar, mixing and serving drives till closing. But that night he had the day off and planned to go to the movies with Jessica. It had been a while since they had been out on a date and Sam wanted to get out with his girlfriend.

That day he got back earlier then Jessica to fix the showerhead. Jessica had said it was spitting during her morning shower and he thanked dad that he taught him some home repair while squatting in rundown houses.

Walking up to his apartment door he fit the key into the lock, but it wouldn't turn. He frowned in confusion. The key had worked this morning when he locked up.

He inspected the door. It wasn't the one that he had locked up that morning. It was made completely with iron and in the jam was a white strip. Pulling it out he looked at the carefully written note.

Above the door.

Reaching up he felt along the top and pulled out a key. It too was made of iron. He fitted the key into the lock and it turned easily. As he opened the door he noted the iron slide under the door. He swung the door opened.

He walked in, trying to find anything but of place. Boxes and furniture was pushed against the wall, some opened and half empty, but nothing out of place from when he and Jessica left that morning.

He hurried to the kitchen and opened the cupboard under the sink. He had hidden a .45 in a bucket shoved into the back. Reaching he found the gun, locked, loaded, and ready to fire. He was about to shut the door when he spotted something. New pipes connecting from the sink to the water line. Curious, he walked to the bathroom.

There he found the showerhead fix with a new seal to keep it in place and not spray. There were also new pipes under the sink.

Concerned he did an entire inspection of the apartment. Silver knives were placed in Jessica's fine china collection, the windows were lines with lead as window jams and also around the air vents and all the doors were replaced with iron knobs. His handheld UV light revealed a Devil's Trap in front of the door.

Sam smirked in appreciation. He gave his address to only one person and he had somehow broken into his house and anti-demonized the place.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his phone and dial.

"Hey, Sam, what's up?"

"Why did you do it, Dean?" he asked.

"Do what?"

"Redo my house. Sinks fixed, doors lined with iron and silver. Why?"

There was a pause on the other end.

"Sam, you know I can't fix pipes worth a damn," he said. "And I haven't been in your apartment. I'm all the way in New York."

"The city?"

"Yeah, I tell you, I hate the freaking freeway. I just spent two hours going one mile."

Sam laughed.

"Yeah, that's New York City. But my house is completely demon proof. If it wasn't you, then who?"

"Must have been Dad."

Sam nearly laughed.

"Dad? Yeah, right. Dad didn't want me to go to college. I haven't spoken to him in four years. He doesn't even know I have an apartment." There was another pause. "Dean, what did you do?"

"Now, Sammy…"

"It's Sam. Did you tell Dad where I live now?"

"Of course I did, Sam. He's our dad. Despite his actions he does love us."

Sam scoffed.

"Yeah, as if he ever says it."

"He does, Sam. We just need to listen."

It was odd of Dean giving him advice, but Sam had to admit it was a good one, looking around the apartment.

And put new locks on the doors. Went back and forth to the hardware store. Said, "Come and hold this flashlight" as he crawled beneath the sink. And "These old wires ain't up to code" and "That circuit box is gonna overload." And I didn't hear it then but I hear it now. He was saying "I love you", the only way he knew how.

There was no hunt, no aimless drive down the road to find the next job. Both brothers stayed at the town they drove into. Too depressed to do anything but wonder aimlessly through town the whole day.

They walked through the town, looking in windows and stores under the excuse of gathering supplies, but the truth was they were killing time. The day had been hard on them. They knew they should have treated it like any other day, but it wasn't. It wasn't any other day to them.

They didn't know they were passing a playground till they heard laughter and turned to see two boys playing catch with their father.

"What are we doing here, Dad," asked Sammy as they walked to a playground. Other kids were off playing and eight year old Sam really wanted to join them, but knew his father had an alternative reason for them being here.

"We're going to work on your catching," said John holding up the mitts he had given his sons.

"But we already know how to catch, Dad," said Dean.

"No, you don't, and until you learn how we'll keep working at it, you hear."

"Yes, sir," said both boys dejectedly. They had hoped that heir father was actually going to play catch with them like a normal family but as always their hopes were dashed when John reveals it to be anything other then training.

John tossed the fall in the air with a flick of his wrist and easily caught it, then he threw a power ball right into Dean's glove. Dean gave a start as his arm was thrown back by the force of the throw.

"Stay alert, Dean," said John in his drill master's tone. "Toss it to Sam!"

Dean did, but not as hard as John's throw. John went over to Sam, took the ball and gave it back to Dean.

"Harder," he ordered.

Dean threw harder and the ball smacked into Sam's glove. Again John took the ball and gave it back to Dean.

"Harder."

Again and again, John ordered his sons to throw the ball as hard as they could and by the end of the training both their arms were sore and aching. Sam and Dean sat on the grass to rest after John went off for some errand.

"Why does he keep doing this?" asked Sam. "What does catching a ball have to do with hunting?"

"Maybe to catch a gun, I don't know," said Dean lying on his back. "Dad has a reason for everything. We just have to learn."

"I'm tired of training," whined Sam with his arms around his legs and his head on his knees. "I just want him to be our dad."

Dean sat up with a kick of his feet and ruffled Sam's hair sympathetically.

"Me too, Sammy, me too," he said.

They looked up to see John walking back to them, an ice cream cone in each hand. Both boys looked at their father in surprise as John handed them the cones.

"Cool down and rest up," he ordered. "We got more training to do."

The boys groaned and eagerly ate the cones. John stood over them, watching.

Sam and Dean watched the two boys and father play and smiled softly at the memory that came to them. With a knowing look to each other they continued walking down the street.

Last Sunday, we all gathered for his 65th birthday. And I knew he'd stiffen up but I hugged him anyway. When it was finally time to say goodbye I knew what was next. Just like he always does right before we left

Both brothers walked into the local shady bar and ordered a beer. Both sat in a corner and watched patrons mill about, laughing and joking with friends. But Sam and Dean didn't joke, didn't laugh, not that day.

"Do you miss him," asked Sam suddenly.

"God, come on, Sammy…"

"Answer me, Dean. Do you miss him?"

"Yes, yes, I miss him. Especially today. I miss him so fucking much."

Sam held his head sadly.

"Me too."

"He was a good hunter."

"He was a good father," said Sam looking at Dean who nodded and held up his beer bottle.

"To Dad," he said.

Sam held up his.

"To Dad."

They tapped their beers together and took a long drink.

THE END