Day By Day


I asked, and you guys delivered. I loved all of the prompts though I will add: disclaimer, I am not obligated to complete all of them so please don't hate me if I fail (hides).

So continue to prompt! No promises I'll get all of them, but I will try :)

This first one is for MysteryMadchen, who has been here since the beginning (I love you okay) and requested some interaction between John and Sam. Probably didn't quite hit the loving-ish relationship you wanted, but I tried. Hope you like it!


Like Father, Like . . .


"Dean, get your brother put to bed."

John caught Dean's glare, but ignored it. Teenagers would be teenagers. "Big hunt tonight, so we'll probably be at the bar afterwards if you want to meet us there," he added after a moment. "Don't forget your fake ID."

"What about Sammy?"

"You can leave him here." John spared a glance at his blind son. "Just make sure he goes to the bathroom first."

Sam's head went up, flush high on his cheeks. "I can use the bathroom on my own," he said proudly.

John bit back a sarcastic retort that was on the tip of his tongue. "See you boys later," he said instead.

"Good luck on your hunt," Sam called after him. Dean, uncharacteristically, was silent, still stewing about some probably semi-offensive comment John had made. John sighed as he closed the motel door. Some days they were just too much for him.


John clapped Caleb on the shoulder and grinned at the other two hunters. "Drinks on me, guys." The bar wasn't too crowded, thankfully, and John went straight up to the bar to order. When he turned around, he found his fellow hunters over in the back of the bar.

"How 'bout a game of pool?"

John heard Dean's voice as he approached and smiled. At least he had gotten out of his funk.

"You've already had two beers, you're gonna miss every shot."

John's smile disappeared. Grimly, he approached the table. "Boys," he said coolly. "What are you two doing here?" He shot a look at Dean that spoke volumes.

"You said you would come here to celebrate after the hunt if it was successful. Joshua called, so Sammy and I headed over." Dean's expression was defiant.

John caught Caleb giving Sam a significant patronizing once-over.

"How'd you get in here, anyway?" Nathan, Joshua's younger partner, was giving John's two boys a dubious look. "You can't be older than sixteen."

Dean bristled. "I'm eighteen."

"And you, kid?"

Sam shrank back. "Fourteen."

Dean moved slightly in front of his brother, carefree grin with hard eyes behind it. "Me and that bartender get along. She knows Sam here won't cause any trouble."

John coughed, getting the attention off of his sons. "So, I take it no one wants this beer?"

A disturbance at the bar had all of the hunters stiffening and turning—hunters tended to be paranoid, no matter what—and listening in closely to the loud discussion.

"Another death," Joshua said, disbelieving. "But we finished the chupacabra's off. There were only four."

"Apparently not," Caleb muttered darkly. "Celebration will have to wait, gentlemen."

"Dad, can I come?"

John turned to Dean. "Dean, you can't—"

"I'll wait in the car," Sam interjected.

Torn, John glanced at the other hunters, noting Caleb's sneer and Joshua's questioning glance.

"Fine."


"Sammy, you stay here, okay? You sure you don't want me with you?"

"I'll be fine, Dean."

John heard his boys conversing softly and felt a slight twinge of—oddly enough—jealousy. Before Sam was blinded, Dean had tended to gravitate towards impressing John with his knowledge, trying to talk to him at every point. Now, the two of them were inseparable, which left John out of the loop.

"Dean, you have your shotgun?" he interrupted.

"Yessir."

The desert was hot and dry, and John levered himself out of the car with a grunt. The first round, they had killed four chupacabras. One or two must've been hiding somewhere else.

"Got your boys taken care of?"

Caleb's tone was a little too sardonic for John's taste. "They can take care of themselves," he said shortly.

"Alright, boys, let's get 'em," Joshua racked his shotgun and grinned at them.

The desert was too silent, and John worriedly glanced at Dean.

"Dad, aren't the chupacabras attracted to blood?" Dean whispered, glancing at the carcass Nathan was dragging.

"Yeah, they're supposed to be."

A shot rang out, and John whirled.

"Sammy!" Dean roared, and took off sprinting. John was hot on his heels, and skidded to a stop to find Dean checking Sam over efficiently, a dead chupacabra at his feet.

"Sam?" John asked numbly.

"I heard it. Outside the car. I, um, I shot it," Sam said, rather faintly. His eyes—John avoided looking at them most of the time—looked like they were staring up at the starry sky.

"Why did you leave the car?" Dean demanded.

"I didn't want the chupacabra to scratch the Impala," Sam whispered, obviously expecting Dean's reprobation and cringing away.

Dean swore at him, but then the other hunters jogged up, and his mood flipped into that of a proud and protective older brother.

Joshua whistled. "Man, kid. You've got guts." Even Caleb looked vaguely impressed.

"Let's get you boys home," John said. He looked at Sam with new appreciation, even as Dean fussed. Maybe he had underestimated him.


At the motel, Dean was in the shower, and John sat down across from his youngest son.

"I'm proud of you," he said, haltingly.

"Thanks," Sam said just as awkwardly.

"I, uh, you're doing okay, right? With the Braille?"

"Yessir." Sam's long fingers were twisting together nervously. Good fingers for bow hunting, though that wouldn't be an option anymore.

"Well, sleep, um, well," John fumbled for Sam's shoulder, patting it.

Sam flinched at John's touch. "Thanks."

Dean came out of the bathroom, pausing at the sight of them. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," John said quickly. "Get to bed, Dean." He made his escape into the bathroom and sighed as he leaned against the door. Faintly, he could hear the two of them talking.

"What was that about?"

"Think Dad was trying to talk to me. And kinda failing."

"Yeah, well, he's trying. Don't be too hard on him."

"I know, Dean."

John swallowed and closed his eyes. Times like this, and the ache of missing Mary was too large to ignore. "I'm sorry," he whispered to her. "I'm so sorry."