Angry Words
The door slammed so hard it rocked in its frame.
"And don't come back!" John shouted after his youngest son, his hands curled into fists.
He turned to look at his eldest son.
"You shouldn't have spoken to him like that," Dean said.
"He should do as he's told, Dean."
"You don't listen to what he wants, why do you expect him to do as you say?" Dean asked, angrily.
"Because I know best," John replied icily.
"You don't know what he wants."
"I know what's best for him, and this... what he's doing now, that's not it," John said.
"He never wanted this life, but you keep forcing him into it!" Dean exclaimed.
"I just want you boys to be prepared, that's all."
"No, you just want to be able to keep an eye on us!"
"That's not true, Dean, and you know it. I only want the best for you two," John exclaimed.
"Was moving around all the time, changing schools every few weeks, sleeping in motels, was any of that what was best for me and Sam? No. That was best for you, Dad."
"Don't you dare, Dean. I've always had your best interests at heart. After your mother―"
"Mom has nothing to do with this. This is about Sam and the fact that you don't know, and don't care about what he wants. Is it any wonder he left? You didn't give him a choice."
"He had every choice," John replied.
"No, he really didn't. You gave him two. Carry on doing what he was doing and hate every minute of it, or leave and don't come back. Not much of a selection there," Dean responded.
"He isn't ready, Dean. He isn't ready to be on his own."
Dean threw his hands up in exasperation. "He is more than capable of ganking any ghost that comes his way; we both have been for a while."
"He's not ready."
"When will he be ready then, at twenty? Or thirty? Or forty? To you he'll never be ready because in your eyes he's still a little boy!"
"We need to stick together, Dean."
"And we would have, but you closed that door on him. You told him not to come back!"
"Don't blame me. Sam is the one who wanted to leave!"
"He wouldn't want to leave if you listened to what he wanted! He wouldn't leave if you actually treated us like equals!"
"Is this really all about Sam?" John asked. Dean clenched his jaw.
"Yes. I don't care how you treat me, but I do care about the way you treat Sam. You made him leave."
John remained silent.
"You forced him out the minute you decided you couldn't bear to have us out of your sight. The minute you decided that we didn't have a say in our futures."
"I did no such thing."
"You never can admit you're wrong, or that you made a mistake, can you? You just shift the blame onto someone else."
The two Winchesters were nearly nose to nose and breathing heavily.
"Don't speak to me like that. I am your father, and you will show me some respect." John ordered in the voice that made Dean feel ten years old again.
"I respect you when you deserve it. And right now you don't. You've practically disowned your youngest son and for what? Because you couldn't bear the thought of him leaving?" Dean spat out.
"That's not what happened."
"Well, what happened then? You two just had a huge argument about Sam going to college. Normal parents want their kids to go to college, but not you!"
"We're not a normal family,"
"No shit. And whose fault is that? I'm pretty sure Sammy never had a say in that!"
"You have no idea what you're talking about Dean. Stop now before you say something you regret," John declared.
"I won't. I just didn't want Sam to leave..." Dean said, trailing off.
"You think I wanted him to leave?" John snapped.
Dean shook his head. "No, sir. But I still don't like the way you spoke to him."
"Dean, this conversation is going in circles."
Something about the tone of his father's voice made Dean pause.
"I-"
"No, don't say anything more Dean."
"Dad..."
"Dean, don't tell me you didn't mean it, because we both know that you did. What do you want me to do, Dean? To apologise? To admit I was wrong? To tell Sam he can come back? The damage is already done. Don't you think I know that already?"
"Dad, I-"
"Leave it, Dean."
"I'm sorry."
John looked at his eldest. "Are you?"
Dean nodded.
"I don't think you are. Not really," John said.
Silence followed.
"I'm going out," said John. "Don't wait up."
The front door closed behind John. Dean sat on the motel bed.
"God damn it, nothing ever goes right," Dean said. "Everyone always leaves." He rubbed his forehead as if he could feel a headache on the horizon.
Dean leaned backwards slightly. "It's my fault. I never told Dad how I felt until it was too late. Sammy's done now."
'It's all my fault,' Dean thought. 'It's all my fault,'
A/N: Based on the Talk My Ear Off prompt. I was practicing my use of dialogue and characterisation.