Family Hell Night
by Square Flea
Author's Note: I know fanfics aren't usually dedicated, but this one has to go to my brother, for sitting through several hours of board games for me. Including a very interesting game of Monopoly. .
This was written for the talented Faye Dartmouth, as per her request in the SFTCOL(AR)S' Summer Fic Exchange. It turned out to be mostly dialogue, but I could think of another way to write it.
This was going to be in Sam's POV, but somehow, it became a John piece. I'm not sure how. Personally, I think John came out a little fluffier than he's portrayed on the show. And I tried really hard not to make Sam too whiny. Light-hearted isn't really my thing.
SNSNSNSN
John Winchester liked to think he was pretty tough. He'd hunted ghosts, chased down demons, even went head-to-head with a werewolf. He'd defeated everything his mother's bedtime stories had taught him to fear.
But a 14-year-old boy? That, he had never been warned about.
His youngest had come home from school that afternoon quiet and behaved. He'd done his homework quickly, cleaned the weapons without complaint, and trained as hard as he ever had with Dean after dinner.
Ten minutes after Dean had left for the night, Sam pounced.
"Iwannahaveafamilygamenight."
John blinked, can of beer stopped halfway to his lips, and turned to his son, sitting next to him on the couch, watching some war movie he'd forgotten the name of.
"Wha--"
"Just one night! It'll be fun! We could play Scrabble, or Monopoly, or whatever you want."
"...you want to play a board game with me?"
Sam smiled, "You and me and Dean. We can play whatever you want! My friend from school, his family has this game night every week, and his mom said we can borrow some games to play. Please, Dad? You're hunt's done, and we've gotta stay here until the school year's done anyway, so..."
And then there were Puppy Eyes, and instantly, John was powerless.
"I...I guess. Yeah."
His boy jumped up, grin on his face, threw his arms around his father's shoulders and squeezed harder than he had in years.
"Thanks, Dad! I'll call Adam, and tomorrow, I can pick up some games!"
And his youngest bounded into the kitchen.
Dean's gonna kill me.
---
"I'm gonna kill you."
John sighed. Dean glared.
"Dean, it's just one night."
"Well, it's stupid."
"It's important to him."
The glare broke just a little, and John won.
---
Sam came bounding through the front door the next afternoon with a grin on his face and two long, flat boxes under his arm, and John had to admit that it felt good to see him so happy.
Not that he was actually looking forward to this.
Dean called for pizza while Sam set up in the kitchen; that's where games were supposed to be played, apparently.
Adam's family had an impressive collection of board games, according to Sam; they'd done this once a week every year since Adam was four.
John was surprised they were still sane.
But that grin was still on Sam's face, and the good feeling was still there, so he sat down at his kitchen table and prepared to play Scrabble with his boys.
---
Half an hour and five rather filthy words later, Sam suggested they choose a different game, and John heartily agreed.
---
Dean turned the Monopoly box upside down on the kitchen table, sending little plastic houses bouncing across it and onto the floor. The game was a mess. The fake money was in one big pile, and three of the little metal game pieces were missing.
Dean smacked down a large pile of cards right in the middle of the board when Sam unfolded it and laid it down on the table.
"Dean, that's supposed to be two different stacks," Sam scolded him, picking it up, "Find the directions and count out the money."
"There aren't any directions."
Sam frowned.
"Then how do we know how much to give out?"
Dean grinned, grabbed the pile of money, and separated it into three piles.
"There," he announced, "Problem solved."
"What about the bank?"
"What about it?"
Sam sighed, "There's supposed to be money left over, in the bank. You know, in case you need to make change. Besides, there's no way every pile has the same amount."
"So what?"
Sam sighed again and took the money.
"I'll sort through it. Try to find the other little metal game pieces."
"Whatever," Dean grumbled, "Bitch."
"Jerk."
---
"Is this a game piece?"
"That's a hotel. Also not metal."
"What do we need a hotel for?"
"It makes the rent higher."
"Oh. How does a hotel raise the rent?"
"I don't know, Dean. Just look for the pieces."
"Is this a game piece?"
"No, that's a die. Are you being stupid on purpose?"
"Yes."
"Well, stop."
"Is this a game piece?"
"No, that's—is that a spoon?"
"I think so. Why is Adam's family eating out of their Monopoly box?"
Oh yeah, John thought, This is going to be fun.
---
"Figures I go to jail on my first freakin' turn," Dean growled.
"Dean, calm down. You're just visiting."
"Oh. Well, can I have a reroll anyway?"
"There aren't any rerolls."
"Well, we're playing by house rules. So give me the dice."
"Dean, you can't just change the rules mid-game."
"Watch me."
---
"Dad, Dean's trying to steal from the bank!"
"Well, Sam won't lend me any!"
"You can't borrow money in Monopoly."
"Yes, you can."
"Says who?"
"House rules!"
"We're not playing by house rules!"
Suddenly, John remembered that he'd forgotten to pick up more asprin.
---
Dean was just passing Go with a satisfied grin on his face when a hotel bounced off his head.
"Sam, cut it out!"
"Cut what out?"
"Dude, don't play dumb. Stop throwing things at me."
"I'm not."
Right on cue, another hotel came flying toward Dean's eyes. He ducked and
"Sam!"
"Dean, you're looking right at me! Did I throw anything?"
John frowned. He'd laid the salt lines thick. Right?
The whole table suddenly shook and turned over, smacking Sam in the head. He fell sprawled out on the kitchen floor, out cold.
"Sammy!" Dean yelled,
John leapt up, running over to the cabinets where he'd hidden a bottle of holy water last week just in case. He dumped the whole bottle on the still-shaking board and all the pieces scattered over the kitchen floor. There was a soft sizzling sound, a little bit of smoke, and everything went still.
There was a groan from the general direction of his boys, and he turned to look at them in time to see his Sam sit up, one hand to his forehead.
"Are you okay, Sam?"
His youngest nodded, and John sighed.
"Jeez, Sam."
Dean grinned at his little brother and ruffled his hair.
"Leave it to you to bring home a haunted board game."
---
"Uh, hey, Adam. No, no, everything's fine. I was just wondering… where did you get that board game? Oh, I'm just… uh, doing a report on, um, things passed down from older generations, and I, uh, remembered you told me you got the game from your uncle, right? Uh-huh. Oh, okay. Yeah, thanks."
Sam hung up the phone and turned to his father.
"Well?" John asked.
"It used to belong to his cousin, who died in a car accident last year. Apparently, Monopoly was his favorite game," Sam replied, "Gives us a place to start."
---
Adam's cousin wasn't hard to find or burn. The whole salt and burn took him less than half an hour, and he was soon headed back to his boys.
The kitchen was only a little more messy than when he left. He threw a curious look at Dean, who was sitting on the kitchen floor with Sam, a shotgun in his hands.
"Everything okay?"
"Few more pieces got thrown around," Dean replied, "But nothing too bad. Is it done?"
John nodded, "It's done."
Sam stood and picked the game board up from the floor, looking at it sadly.
"Adam's gonna kill me."
"We'll dry it out," John replied, "Maybe he won't even notice."
A part of the board fell off and hit the floor with a wet plop.
"We'll get him a new one," John promised, and Sam nodded, "Oh, and Sam?"
The boy looked up.
"Yeah, Dad?"
"…no more board games, okay?."
fin
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