For Claireity who requested this. Well, it's fucked up and it's rushed, but here it is! The sequel to Don't Fear the Reaper. I'm sorry if some scenes are awkward and choppy. I have writer's block and i can't seem to shake the intruder outta my head.
Summary: Sam's dead and Dean is losing himself to alcoholism. All John can do is stand there and watch his son drink himself away.
Warnings: One swear word
Alcoholism
Suicidal thoughts
Anyway, here you are! The title of the story is the name of a song by Led Zeppelin.
John looks at Dean, looks at the broken young man in front of him and wonders when it all went to hell. Everything had been so normal one minute, so perfectly fine and then the next thing he knows, he's cradling his dead son. Sam had been acting weird since the hunt in Tampa. He began doing drugs and started drinking, began getting into fights and even almost got kicked outta school once. That was so unlike Sam, but John never would've guessed that his youngest was…
"Dean, I need you to give me the bottle," he says, looking at his son who is currently drinking like his life depends on it. Maybe it does. Dean just shakes his head and brings the bottle of Jack Daniels closer to him, almost protectively. At first it didn't seem so bad, letting his son drink a bit after the incident. Dean is 20 years old, he doesn't need his dad to tell him what and what not to do. But this is getting out of hand. Dean began spending more time with the bottle than anyone else, began going to bars more often than not. John isn't just going to stand there and let his son lose himself to alcoholism.
"Dean, the bottle. Now," John says again, a little more firmly this time around. Dean just scowls at him before reluctantly handing him the bottle. He gets up and grabs his coat and it's obvious that he is a little more than tipsy, before heading towards the door.
"Where are you going?" John asks, though he's pretty sure he already knows.
"Out," is Dean's mumbled response.
John lets out a laugh, but there is no humor behind it. He grabs his son and pulls him away from the door and says, "like hell you are".
Dean shrugs John's hand off of his shoulder and slurs, "I ain't a kid. You can't tell me what to do anymore."
John sighs and then says in a softer voice, "Dean, you're gonna get yourself hurt. You can't drive at the moment and it's pretty damn obvious that you've already had a little too much to drink. The last thing you need right now is a bar."
Dean just snorts and continues his way out the door when John says, "You think Sam would've wanted this?" He can see Dean tense when he mentions Sam and he immediately regrets bringing him up. He wants to apologise and tell his son that he's sorry about bringing his little brother up, but that's not what he does. Instead, he just continues. "Goddamnit Dean, stop being so selfish! Sam wouldn't want this. He'd want you to move on, to be happy." John wishes that he didn't say anything. He wishes that he could take back those words and swallow them up, because Dean is anything but selfish. He might've meant everything else, but he still knows that what he just said would do Dean more harm than good. He barely has time to register what happens next.
One second he was standing behind his kid, and the next he's pinned against the wall. There's a dull THUD as John's head bounces off the wall and for a moment, he sees stars. When his vision clears up, he looks up to find a very pissed off Dean Winchester who's grabbing John by his collar and effectively holding him up against the wall. He looks torn between ripping his dad's lungs out and collapsing on the spot.
"Don't you dare tell me what Sam wanted! Don't you do that!" His son starts crying for the first time since the funeral and he looks so broken, so small. "I always took care of the kids' every need! I watched out for him! And do you want to know what he really wanted? He wanted a normal apple-pie life. One that you didn't give him!" Dean's shouting now and John can hear Bobby run down the stairs, but he can't bring himself to care because his baby boy is broken and it's all his fault.
"I did everything for the kid! I gave up my entire childhood so that he could be a kid, just for a little bit longer! So don't you fucking dare call me selfish!"
John is just staring at Dean, his own eyes filling up with unshed tears, and he says in a defeated voice, "I'm sorry." Dean lets go of John and wipes the tears off his face with the back of his hand. He angrily grabs the keys to the impala and leaves, though not before growling, "you should be."
John starts crying and he doesn't even realise that Bobby is there until he feels a strong yet gentle hand on his shoulder. "He'll be okay," the older hunter says. "Just give him some time." And John really hopes for Dean's sake that Bobby is right.
"You're drunk," John observes dryly as Dean stumbles back into their motel room. He smells like whiskey. There's no point of denying it, so instead Dean just kicks off his shoes and retires to his bed. John sighs. It's been 5 months since the funeral and Dean should be getting better, but that's not the case. If anything, he's progressively getting worse.
"You need to stop drinking, Dean," John mutters for the umpteenth time.
Dean just snorts and growls, "right. 'Cause that's what you did when mom died." It's a miracle that he's not slurring his words considering how drunk he is.
John clenches his jaw in anger and tries to calm himself before responding. "It was only for a little while, and my drinking habits were nowhere near as bad as yours are right now."
Dean glares at him for a bit, before mumbling a "whatever" and he flips over on his bed so that his back is facing John. It's never Dad anymore. It's always John now, and that hurts John more than he is willing to admit.
He reaches for his keys and begins heading for the door when he hears Dean ask, "where you goin'?"
John turns around and he sees Dean peering at him past his shoulder. God, he looks 6 again. "Cemetery," John answers truthfully. "Do you want to come?" John doesn't know why he asks. He already knows the answer.
"No," comes Dean's reply, confirming John's suspicions.
"Dean, I think you should come. You haven't visited Sam since the funeral and I think this'll be good for you," John says, but it doesn't matter because Dean's not listening anymore. Whenever John mentions Sam, Dean either gets angry or he tunes out. John sighs and then turns to leave.
SPN
John smiles sadly as he lays down some flowers on Mary's grave, and then on Sam's. Mary's tombstone looks old and it's engraved writing looks almost faded, but not Sam's. His is new and shiny and that breaks John's heart even more. Sam was still alive during the beginning of the year, and now it's only June and his baby boy is 6-feet-under.
He gently runs his fingers over the writing on his son's tombstone and whispers, "I miss you, Sammy." John remembers wanting to have Sam cremated, but Dean wouldn't have it. "You can't do that to Sammy. He's scared of fire." So instead they decided to have him buried next to Mary. Well, next to Mary's empty coffin.
It's getting late and even though John just got here, he wants to go back now. He stands up and looks at the graves of his beautiful wife and his incredible son, both of who were taken too soon. Before he leaves, John whispers to both Mary and Sam, "please help him." He presses a kiss on both of their headstones and then turns around and walks away. He prays that they were listening.
SPN
John returns to the motel room later than he should have. Hours later, in fact. He can't help it though. He drove around the area for a bit, not ready to return to the shell of a man Dean used to be or his empty bottles that litter the motel room. When he finally returns though, he is greeted by the sound of Dean emptying the contents of his stomach in the toilet bowl in their shared bathroom. He winces as he hears Dean gag and he wants to go in the bathroom and comfort his son, but he knows better than that. Dean won't appreciate it; in fact, he might even yell at his father and tell him to leave.
And not for the first time since the incident, John finds himself wishing that Sam had never died. God, he knew that Sam and Dean were close and shared a unique bond, but he never realised how much they needed each other until Sam passed away. Dean is a total wreck without Sam and John is sure Sam would be too had the roles been reversed.
Screw this, John thinks as he hears Dean crying in the bathroom. Since when was he scared of Dean? Dean may be angry with him for doing this, but dammit! Dean's his kid and he's not just gonna just sit there and watch as Dean drinks himself to death. He begins walking towards the bathroom, towards Dean, when he spots Dean's duffel opened and lying beside his bed. He would've ignored it, had he not seen the gun peaking out. He walks over toward the duffel and—how the hell did Dean get his hands on this? John locked away all of the weapons when Sam passed. He doesn't expect Dean to do anything, not really, but he just wants to be safe, considering how Dean was handling Sam's death. Yet here is a gun in Dean's possession, completely unloaded except for the one…
John collapses on to the ground and begins crying as the gravity of the situation hits him. He's known for a while, but he refused to believe it before. The day John lost Sam, he lost Dean as well.