As Dean paced back and forth across the floor, John could swear he could see steam literally coming from his ears. He knew Dean was going to be upset, but not to the point that he would punch a hole through the paper-thin walls of the crappy motel the Winchester boys were taking refuge in.
"What the fuck…" was all Dean could say before he shut down and started pacing again. John could hear the wheels in his head going, could hear the swear words streaming in a long sentence that kept repeating with very little changes.
Sam, on the other hand, had said nothing. Just sat in a chair and retreated to the world inside his head, same thing he had done when he was a kid. Try as John might, he couldn't read Sam as well as he could Dean. Which didn't surprise him. When he did finally speak, "You were barely there for Dean and I," his voice was almost a whisper, but it rang loud and clear in John's ears. "What makes you think you'll be there for Trevor?"
John glanced over at the little boy asleep on the bed to John's left. It had been a long since John had given anyone the slightest time of day, let alone a woman. But there had been something different about Lori, a glow he hadn't seen since Mary. He had spent four months with Lori, recuperating after a hunt that left him with more than a few bruises, cuts, and scrapes, each that Lori helped heal. Over time, he and Lori had become close, much more than John normally allowed. And after their first time in bed together, John had almost called out Mary's name, but Lori had understood. And then John had to leave, another demon of hell was waiting to be killed. Again, Lori understood.
When John heard from Lori again, he learned two things. One, she was sick and, two, well, she had asked to see him once more to explain something to him. When he got there, Lori was looking pale and gaunt, not the same glowing woman who had reminded him of his wife. She was dying and once again, John felt the familiar ache in his chest. Sitting next to her was a little boy a year old, with blonde hair like Dean's and eyes that immediately reminded him so much of Sam's--innocent and pure. John knew immediately, before Lori said anything, that the little boy was his.
John spent another three months with them before Lori died on a sunless day. Trevor was too young to fully understand what was going on, but knew that Mommy was no longer around. So John took him along, wondering when the right time to tell his older sons would be.
John watched Trevor snuggle up to a small teddy bear John had given him, one that had belonged to Sam when he was around Trevor's age. Sam's question resonated in his head. He knew he couldn't answer it. But the more he looked at Trevor, the more he knew this time, everything was going to be better. He'd get a chance to be what he couldn't be to either Dean or Sam--a father.
The End.
© 2006