Hi all! Guess what! ;) - I did have an idea about the second part... Dean's "punishment".
It's quiet alot about Dean's and John's relationship. Just to let you know.
Hugs, Lee
The little apartment was quiet. John had pushed Dean on the first chair in the little kitchen, and then barked to Sam to go to his room; and to stay there. Dean had never seen their father that angry.
Now they both sat at the table but while Dean was thinking about the punishment his Dad had in mind John just sat there, not uttering a word. Just sat and stared daggers into the tables- surface.
"We need to talk." His father finally said. Dean, who'd sat there with hunched shoulders and his gaze on the table, raised his eyes, almost surprised.
"Yes, sir." Dean answered. "I want to understand." His father continued. "And then YOU need to understand." Dean again nodded: "Yes, sir."
"So? I'm listening." John entwined his fingers and leant forward, looking directly into Dean's eyes.
Dean returned his gaze, unwavering. "Sam was unhappy." He simply said. John raised his eyebrows. "Come again?"
Dean put both hands flat on the table. His Dad never understood!
"Why did you even ask? It's not as if you give a damn!" he growled.
"Watch your mouth." His father's voice was deadly calm, and Dean swallowed. "I don't like your attitude lately." His father continued, still deadly serious. "I know it's sometimes hard…"
"You don't know anything!" Dean interrupted, suddenly not caring anymore, if his Dad exploded, it would just suit him. "What?" the one word hung sharp in the air.
"Sammy sat there all alone, by himself. He's not like me! I grew up, like that. I know it sucks! I don't want Sammy to just have to rely on me… or you. I want him to have friends. I want him to be happy… and Mom would have wanted that too…" the last sentence he whispered. After that, the apartment went quiet again. "How dare you bring Mary into this…" his father hissed. Dean choked. "How dare? Dad this is all about her! About her and her death! It's always and only about her!"
John was up and around the table in the split of a second. Grabbing Dean at the collar of his shirt he pulled him up, shaking him slightly. "It's never been only about your mother Dean! It's never been! Look at me!" He grabbed Dean's chin hard, holding his face in place, so he would look at his father. "I said look at me!" he sternly ordered. "It's never been only Mary! Do you think I don't care?" He loosened his grip a little, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. "It's been about Sammy as well! Whatever did it to your Mom, it was after your baby-brother, too."
"What about me…" Dean said sadly. John let go of him, suddenly drained of all energy and stumbled a few steps back. He slid down the kitchen wall, pinching the bridge of his nose, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. "Goshh…" he sighed, tears now glistening in his eyes, as he watched his oldest son's shoulders slump further, turning away from him.
"Dean… I… I never knew…" he choked almost on his own words. He waited for his son to say something, but the boy only sat there, his back on him.
Minutes passed by without any sound disturbing the silence. John just didn't know how to comfort his son, what words he needed to say, to make things right.
And after a while, Dean sat up straight, turning back and studied his father, who still sat on the floor of the small kitchen.
"Show me. And tell me everything I need to know." He said his voice a mix between maturity, sadness and determination. John sat there reading his son's expression, knowing that he had to comply if he not wanted to lose Dean completely.
"Okay." He answered, knowing that this would change everything, that with this decision, his son would follow him into his war.
SPNSPN
John studied his son. On the outside Dean was calm, calmer than he had ever been on a hunt. But he knew that it was only a mask. Inside, Dean was in turmoil, his feelings jumbled. He guessed, right now, Dean couldn't differ what he felt; if it was fright, tension, excitement... He needed to keep an eye on him, or Dean would get hurt.
He had taught his son about how to handle a weapon, how to track, how to hide, how to follow, but it would be the first time his son actually joined him into a hunt. And this he couldn't teach him.
God, if he thought about it! It was his thirteen-year-old son who crouched beside him behind a dumpster, waiting patiently for a monster to crawl out of its hideout! Being ready to kill!
"Listen, Dean. You saw the pictures. This is one nasty son of a bitch, and I don't want you getting caught in the middle, okay? You're staying here. You wanted to know, and you wanted me to show you. You're not going into action, do you got me?" he ordered in a hushed whisper. In reply he got a slight nod. Dean's jaw was set, his eyes concentrated at something invisible in the shadows. "It's coming, Dad!" he whispered, breathless now.
John raised his eyes at this, turned his concentration back to the hunt. And soon enough, he could see movement too. The creature came… and it had something with it!!
...
Dean knelt behind the dumpster, watching in horror, as the creature trudged out of the shadow and into the dimly lit alley. It was dragging something small along. Something… someone… He felt his heartbeat double and sweat was beading on his neck, running down his back. The hunchback… or whatever-it-was, was dragging a small kid along. He had grabbed the little boy around his neck; blood was running down the child's temple, nose and mouth, the kids eyes were open, staring unseen... With a growl and a thud, the creature let it's prey fall down, as his father levered his gun and aimed. Suddenly the hair on the back of his neck raised and Dean turned just in time to see a second of the beasts advancing. Only it was him he attacked. The cry on Dean's lips was drowned out by the blasts of the shotgun of his father. Dean fought with everyhthing he had; hands, arms and feet as the creature first jumped and then pinned him to the ground. He smelled the nauseating stench of the creatures breath as it's chaps came closer and closer.
A jerk went through the monster on top of him, as the first bullet hit its chest. Blood was splashing everywhere. He closed his eyes in time, but felt the hot liquid on the skin of his face. Another shot and he thought he would go deaf, his ears ringing, but the weight of the beast was suddenly gone. He felt someone touching him, but first didn't dare to open his eyes. Only as some smooth fabric softly wiped over his face, he slowly squinted up. His Dad's face was hovering over him, looking down in concern and deep sorrow.
And in this moment, Dean suddenly knew, that even if Sammy always would be the one who needed the most protection, his Dad did care.
And right then the lump in his throat was back, and for once he decided it would be okay to let it go. His Dad grabbed him under his arm-pits, sitting him up and enveloped him in a hug, rocking him slightly back and forth. "Shhh, everything's okay. You're okay now. You're okay now." And Dean hold onto him as if he would fall, if he let go. He heard his Dad repeating his soothing words over and over and over…
SPNSPN
It was long past midnight as the two arrived back home. They were both exhausted from the events of the night. His Dad had his arm draped around Dean's shoulder, as if he was afraid of loosing contact right now. In their little kitchen, Dean sank down onto one of the chairs, watching his father, as he opened and closed drawers, clattered with pots and pans, until one of the pots was on the stove. He moved over to the fridge, opened it, rummaging though it, and came back with some milk. A few minutes later, both sat in front of a steaming mug of hot cocoa, looking at the brown liquid.
"You're alright sport?" his Dad asked, his voice hoarse with emotion. Dean could feel his Dad's eyes study him, trying to read his mind.
"I… I never knew…" Dean whispered, his hands sneaking around his mug in an attempt to warm them up. His Dad, got up from his place the second time that day. He knelt in front of Dean, taking the youngsters hands in his. "You knew this is out there, the day your mother died. But there are two sorts of knowing. And this you didn't know. But I'll help you with it. Sammy… " he stopped, taking in a shaky breath. "Sammy, is different from you. You told me yourself today. He's… he…" he searched for words, trying to explain it, but Dean finished for him. "He'd be like the small boy, wouldn't he? I mean, maybe, one day he'll be able to defend himself. But now, at the moment he'd just be another small boy, in the claws of these… these… things we're hunting." He saw Dean swallowing down a sob, trying hard to keep his mask in place. "Yeah…" his Dad answered in an almost not audible whisper. "He'd be just another little boy, like the one tonight."
Dean nodded. "I understand now." He said, taking a small sip from his cocoa, then sat the mug back down on the table. "Goodnight Dad."
John looked at his son, tears blurring his vision and he silently sobbed.
"Tonight had been the night when he had lost Mary's son… but he had gained a companion…"
FIN
Well? What do you think? I think it's not too bad... let me know!!