Hey guys! Sorry for the long update, I wasn't sure where I wanted this chapter to end. I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who's taken the time to read this story. Ok enough chit chat, here's chapter nine!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination
Chapter Nine
My hands shake uncontrollably as I hold the phone in my palms, staring at the screen. John Winchester is displayed in bold letters across the device and I gaze at it, unable to move from the fear that's suddenly gripping me. Sam, who I had forgotten was even still in the room, takes a cautious step towards me.
"Who is it?" I can tell he already knows the answer, but I can't bring myself to reply. I stare, frozen, at the phone and I can feel the panic starting to well up inside me. My brother sees my reaction and moves closer.
"Dean. Who is it?" A ragged sigh escapes me and I finally mumble.
"Dad." My voice cracks and I hate that I couldn't even get the one word out without breaking. The phone continues to ring, the sound echoing through my skull.
"Hang up." Sam's angered tone meets my ears and, for a moment, I want to do just that. But I know that I can't. I have to put an end to this, I can't keep ignoring him. If I do then he'll just find another way to get to me, to Sam.
"No." My brother stares at me in shock.
"What?"
"If he's got the nerve to try and contact us after what he did, then I'm gonna make him pay for it." Without hesitation I answer the call and I slowly lift the phone to my ear. I don't make a sound, instead waiting for him to make the first move.
"Dean.." Rage fills me at the sound of his voice and I cut him off.
"What the hell do you want?" There's a pause on the other end and it takes everything in me not to just hang up, maybe I'll get lucky and he won't call back. Who am I kidding? When have I ever been that lucky? After a few seconds of tense silence, my father finally responds.
"Dean I need to apologize to you."
"No shit." I can hear the frustration in his voice when he speaks again.
"Just listen to me, boy. What happened that night, I wasn't myself. There was a demon and.." My heart leaps in my throats at the statement and a sliver of hope fills me, maybe my dad didn't have control when he attacked me.
"A demon? So you were possessed?" A sigh echoes over the line and I instinctively know that that wasn't the case.
"No." All of the hope fades away as he continues. "But the demon, he possessed my hunting partner, he made me believe that you were to blame for Sam's disappearance. I was so upset that he left that I thought he was right, I need someone to blame and you were the closest option." He pauses. "I was so torn up about Sam and he used that against me. You know that I would never think..."
"I don't wanna hear your excuses you bastard! I don't care that you were having a bad day, so was I, or that there was a damn demon with you. Don't you dare try and justify yourself to me. A father is supposed to take care of his kids, you know that and yet you still attacked me. You were one hundred percent in control of your actions, you alone made the decision to do what you did." My hands clench into fists and the phone digs into my palm painfully. "You made a choice, now you have to deal with the consequences." My dad's desperate voice fills my ears at my declaration.
"Dean I'm so sorry, what I did was wrong and..."
"You're damn right it was wrong!" I scream. "And you can spend all the time you want being sorry, but it's never gonna change anything. Ever."
"Dean please." His words are barely above a whisper and I clench my jaw in rage.
"No John," I don't call him Dad, he doesn't deserve that title. Not anymore. "No more excuses, no more apologies. Don't contact me again." With a grunt I slam the phone closes, effectively ending the call.
Rage consumes me. The bastard had the nerve to try and tell me that it wasn't his fault, that he wasn't to blame for what he did. My hands clench into fists and, with a shout, I hurl the cell across the room. It hits the wall with a loud thud and I sink back down onto the mattress, trying to control the emotions that are threatening to spill out. Sam, who'd been fuming during the entire conversation, takes a seat next to me. He's careful not to jar any of my injuries as he sits close enough that our shoulders are touching. I drop my head into my hands and take a shaking breath, trying desperately to hold myself together.
I can't take much more of this. The beating, the nightmares, the panic attacks; it's all too much. My thoughts wander back to the man who started it all.
"I used to want to be just like that son of a bitch." I growl. "Now I'm ashamed that I even have to call him my dad."
"He stopped being our father the second he laid a hand on you, Dean." Silence settles over us and I close my eyes, trying to forget everything that's happened. The quiet stretches on for a few minutes before I speak again.
"You know, I honestly thought he was one of the good guys. Guess that says a lot about my judgement huh?" Sam sighs.
"He's our father Dean, there's no way you could've known what he'd do. You wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was one good thing in our lives. With all that we've been through, you deserved that much."
"Maybe." Or maybe not. If I idolized Dad as much as everyone thinks I did, then what's gonna stop me from becoming him? What's gonna stop me from hurting someone I love, from hurting Sammy? My brother seems to read my thoughts and he immediately shakes his head.
"You're not like him Dean, you never will be."
"How do you know that Sam? How do you know that I'm not gonna just lose it like he did?"
"Because you're my big brother. And I know you better than anyone. You're not gonna lose it, ok?" I reluctantly nod and he stands to his feet, motioning to the door.
"Come on, let's get you something to eat, you look like crap."
"Gee, thanks." When I don't make a move to follow him, he gives me a pleasing look.
"There's pie in the fridge." It's a last ditch effort to get me to go with him and for once pie doesn't sound appealing, but after everything we've been through I can't turn him down. I need to be strong, for Sammy.
"Ok." Carefully I rise to my feet and trudge towards the door where my brother is waiting. A weight visibly lifts from his shoulders at the movement and I can see little bit of the tension ebbing away from his features for the first time since I showed up at his dorm in the middle of the night. He shifts to the side in order to let me out of the room and I shuffle into the kitchen. Just the short walk has drained most of my energy and I collapse into the closest chair to me, breathing a little too hard for my liking. I snort at the realization. I've gone from sprinting down hallways while running from monsters without breaking a sweat, to almost passing out walking to the damn kitchen.
If Sam notices my discomfort, he doesn't show it. He simply walks to the fridge and pulls out an apple pie before setting it on the counter. My brother cuts two slices, puts each on a plate and walks over to me before handing the desert to me and keeping the other for himself.
"Thanks." As I take my first bite of the sweet food I can't help but smile. This is the closest I've been to happy since that night at the motel. There's no glancing over my shoulder waiting for my dad to bust down the door, or fighting through constant waves of agony. There's no worry, no fear. No, for these next few minutes, there's nothing except for me and my brother, enjoying probably the most normal meal we're ever gonna get.
The next few days pass by without much incident. There haven't been any more phone calls from Dad, well not to me at least, and I can actually breathe without feeling like my entire body is on fire. The three of us are still on high alert though, we can never afford to let our guard down, not with John out there waiting for us. Despite the warning I gave him I still can't shake the feeling that he'll try to pull something and, knowing that, I can't let myself relax.
Bobby and Sam have done their best to try and help me get past everything and I honestly think that they believe I am. They do their best to ignore the way I still flinch whenever they try to touch me or how I jump at every loud noise. Both of them think that it'll pass if I give it time, that they're the only remnants of what happened. But what they don't know is that nothing's changed. They don't know about the nightmares that still plague me every night, the cold sweats that I wake up to, or the screams and whimpers that rip from my throat when the dreams become too real. The knife that I keep clutched in my hand under my pillow escapes everyone's attention. They don't notice the way I avoid alcohol like it's a disease, terrified that if I take even one sip I'll turn into my Dad. That I'll become a monster just like him.
They think that everything is getting better, but they don't know about the horrors that play over and over in my mind. About the paralyzingly fear that grips me when I wake up every morning because I think that he'll be there, waiting. They don't notice because they want it to be ok, they want everything to go back to normal, for all the pain to go away. So I let them think that it has. I put on a fake smile and act as if the gunshot wound doesn't still pull painfully every time I move, or that the scars from the bottle no longer mar my skin. That the fading bruises didn't leave their mark forever on my once untainted skin. I put up my walls to set their minds at ease, to tell them that I'm pushing through. I bury my pain so they don't have to endure it with me, so they have to deal with the sleepless nights and panic filled days. I let them have the hope that everything is ok, the hope that was stolen from me the second my father's fist first connected with my body.
Well that's it for chapter nine! I hope you guys enjoyed it. Once again I'd like to apologize for the long update, I hope it was worth it. Reviews are welcome and appreciate.
