Chapter 10
Disclaimer: Still don't own.
A/N: To Soar, JuliaAurelia and Sinead-Conlan. I don't know what I would do without you guys.
Earlier that Day
Sam awoke early and yawned and stretched. He couldn't believe how tired he still was. He had been up late, trying to finish homework and get the house spotless. It couldn't be messy, because the lady from social services was coming by tomorrow evening, but more importantly, Dean was coming home and Sam wanted everything to be perfect when Dean got there. His brother would have done no less for him.
He was even willing to bite his tongue when dealing with their father. He had been keeping his promise to his brother through sheer avoidance. He and his dad rarely spent time in the same room. Sam didn't care what he had to do today. Nothing was going to ruin Dean's homecoming.
"Hey, Sammy, you up?" he heard his father call him.
"Yeah, dad," he said pushing the covers aside and grabbing his robe. He stepped into the kitchen, taking a deep breath at the aroma of pancakes cooking on the stove. "What time are we picking Dean up?"
John grinned and reached out and ruffled his son's hair. "Dr. Curtis said we can pick him up around noon." He was looking forward to his eldest being home as well.
"You got the stuff for the tacos, right?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, Sammy," John confirmed. Tacos were currently Dean's favourite food.
"What about the pie? We have to have pie."
"Sam, don't worry. I got it, okay? Apple for you and Dean, and strawberry rhubarb for me, plus vanilla ice cream. Can't have pie without ice cream, right?'
"Thanks, dad," Sam said sincerely as he accepted his pancakes from his father and sat down at the table, prepared to drown them in syrup.
"Sammy," John said softly. "I just want you to know how proud of you I have been this week. I appreciate the effort that you put into getting the house tidied up. It looks great."
"Thanks, dad," Sam said sincerely.
It had been tough. Sam would get up in the morning, go to school, come home, do housework and try to get his homework done, plus find time to go visit his brother. Sam had found his school work suffering. He had gotten his first C ever on a test.
Math was always his weakest subject and he usually asked Dean to help him study. The problem was that things were still a little strained between him and his older brother, and Sam had been reluctant to ask him. Then with his extra chores at home, he didn't have the time to put into it like he usually did.
He'd been really nervous to show his test to his father, but his dad had been surprisingly understanding when Sam explained why he had done so poorly.
Right now, though, he didn't care about any of that, he just wanted his brother home.
-----
The trip to the hospital was uneventful, as was Dean's discharge. The first test of not starting something with his dad came about five minutes after they returned home. The path from the driveway to the house was icy, as were the steps. Dean awkwardly got out of the car and took about three steps before his crutch slipped. If John hadn't been hovering over him, Dean probably would have face planted.
"Dean, are you alright?" John inquired.
"Yeah, fine," Dean ground out, trying to stop himself from grunting in pain. He didn't even want to think about what would have happened if he had fallen.
"Dad, I asked you to..." Sam stopped suddenly when he glanced at Dean. His brother's face had that pinched look, and Sam didn't know if it was because Dean was in pain, or he thought Sam was about to yell at their father, or maybe both. "Um, can I have the keys to the closet and I'll go get some salt." He had asked his father several times for the keys. With the Impala out of commission, John had locked all their weapons, including the rock salt, in the back closet.
"Um, sure Sammy, here," John replied as he pulled his keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Sam, who caught them in the air. "Do you want to wait until Sam gets the salt down, or do you think you can make it?" John addressed Dean tensely, as he handed him the crutch that he had dropped. Dean hadn't been home for five minutes and he and Sam had already almost gotten into a fight. It was his fault, he had forgotten to leave Sam the keys.
"I'm fine," Dean said through gritted teeth. He had totally misread his father's tone, and berated himself for being so clumsy. He accepted the crutch and placed them only a couple of inches in front of him, and then he took a tentative hop. He was determined not be such a screw up. He didn't want to give his father and brother any excuse to start something.
Fortunately, they made it to the front door without further incident.
Dean wasn't sure what to expect when he stepped through the front door. He didn't really think the place would be messy. His father wouldn't stand for it, plus social services were snooping around. It was part of the reason John had insisted that the house always be kept in some semblance of order.
What he wasn't expecting was for the place to be spotless. There wasn't anything out of place, or a book or newspaper lying around. The dishes were done, the floor swept and everything was dusted.
Plus, the place was warm, indicating that heat had to be up. How the hell could they afford that? He hoped his father wasn't doing it for him, he wasn't an invalid.
"Do you want to go lay down?" John asked.
Dean looked at his father like he was crazy. "I just spent the last 3 weeks in bed. It's the last thing I want to do."
"I just don't want you to overdo it, Dean."
"I'm fine," Dean snapped. "I just..." Dean stopped because he didn't know what he wanted. "Want to watch TV," he finished. He didn't really. Their set got crappy reception and they only had 3 channels. There was nothing on.
"Sure kiddo," John agreed. He knew something was bugging Dean. His eyes were a dead give away, and ever since they had walked into the house, John had seen them harden, as if he was trying to convince himself of something. He knew it was no use, Dean would just deny anything was wrong.
He watched as Dean hobbled into the living room, settled himself on the couch and turned the TV on. Knowing there was nothing he could do right now, John went to the kitchen and started to get supper ready.
-------
Dean's attention wasn't focused on the TV. As he had suspected, there was nothing on. He just needed something, anything, to distract him from his thoughts and the clean living room wasn't helping.
Keeping the house clean was usually his responsibility, and he tried. He wasn't perfect, he just did enough to keep his father happy. Sam offered to help, but Dean usually told him to focus on his homework. He knew how important grades were to his brother.
It seemed that his dad and brother were able to keep it up without him, and do a much better job. Needing to do something, Dean grabbed his crutches, situated them under his arms, and hopped toward his bedroom. His brother had put his bag there when they had entered the house and he wanted to get something out of it.
He heard his brother enter the house, and saw him go into the kitchen. He saw Sam's hand grab some of the cheese his father was shredding, heard his father say something and Sam started laughing.
Dean felt like he should be grateful that Sam and his dad weren't fighting, but he had never expected them to be getting along. Well, lately he seemed to be the subject of his brother's and dad's fights. Was he the cause of them as well? Did they just need him out of the way?
"Hey, Dean," Sam called to his brother. "Want to play some cards? I've been working on my poker game?"
He had? Sammy hated poker, he hated the fact that his father hustled money, and he really hated the fact that John was teaching them to do it as well. When Dean had come home from the pool hall with a black eye, the fight between his dad and brother had been nastier than the one he'd had with the guy he'd just hustled.
"No," Dean grumbled. "I just want..." Dean stopped again. What the hell's wrong with you? That was the second time he had started to say that. He honestly didn't know what he wanted. "I am tired," he lied. "I'm gonna just go lay down or something."
Sam and John watched Dean slink off down the hall toward his bedroom. Sam got up to go follow him, but he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Leave him be," John instructed.
"Why?" Sam answered back. "Something's bugging him, dad. I just want to make sure he's alright."
"He'll be fine, Sammy. He just needs to adjust being back home."
"That's bull and you know it," Sam couldn't help himself.
"Sam," John said with a hint of warning.
"Maybe instead of letting him brood, why don't you call Dean on his bull?"
"Do you really want to pick a fight, today of all days?"
Hell, yes. "I guess not," Sam agreed reluctantly. "It's just that..."
"What?" John snapped angrily. "I'm the father here, Samuel, not you. Now go do homework or something and leave your brother alone."
"Yes, sir," Sam said coming to attention and saluting his father. He knew he had gone a little too far when he noticed that the vein in John's forehead had started pulsing.
-------
Dean lay on his bed. He really didn't want to be lying down, but he'd heard his father and brother start in on each other. Once again, over him. He hadn't been home for an hour yet and he'd already screwed things up. He really needed to stop thinking about this. He grabbed his bag and pulled out the latest book Justin had given him. He'd been a little sceptical when he saw the cover, but his friend had assured him that it was a great read. Not having anything better to do, he got up, grabbed the pillow off Sam's bed and propped himself up, opened the cover and began to read.
He must have lost track of time because the next thing he knew, he heard the door to their room open. Dean quickly hid the copy of The Odyssey under his pillow and grabbed the car magazine that had been on his bedside table. He couldn't let Sam catching him reading Homer. He'd never hear the end of it.
"Supper's ready," Sam said eagerly. He and his dad had one more surprise in store for Dean's homecoming.
Dean was tempted to say that he wasn't hungry to avoid any awkward moments, but it wasn't true. The smell of ground beef and spices was coming down the hallway and making his stomach rumble.
"Coming," Dean replied, throwing his magazine on the bed and grabbing his crutches from where they were propped up against the wall.
"Dad said we could eat in the living room. He thought you might be more comfortable."
"Okay," Dean said as he followed his brother out the door. They were never allowed to eat in the living room when their dad was home.
Dean was very surprised upon entering the room. He saw that his father had bought all the fixings for do it yourself tacos, and was that a VCR that was attached to the TV? Where the hell had the money for that come from?
"It was Sammy's idea," John said affectionately. "Although the movie choice was all mine. Have a seat."
Dean sat on the couch, helped himself to a taco shell, and started loading on the toppings. "What are we watching?" he asked curiously.
John grinned and pressed play. His grin was infectious when the opening credits for One Flew Over the Cuckoo's nest rolled across the screen. "Thanks, dad," Dean said sincerely as he polished off his taco in 2 huge bites and reached for another one.
"Just save us some," John teased as he settled in next to his boys to watch the movie. It had been way too long. He had missed this.
--------
The brief moment of normalcy was over all too soon for anyone's liking. There was serious business to take care of.
"Boys, we have the visit from social services tomorrow. I need you both home from school on time and on your best behaviour. With any luck, this will be over tomorrow."
"Yes, sir," the boys said in unison, and Sam bit his tongue to keep from blurting out that if they were late, it would be their dad's fault since he picked them up anyway.
"Sam, I want you to give me a hand with the dishes," John said.
"I can help," Dean offered.
"That's okay, Dean. We don't need your help," John replied unthinkingly. He and Sam left the room before they saw the hurt expression that crossed Dean's face.
-----
KNOCK KNOCK
"Who's that?" John asked Sam as he filled the sink with hot soapy water.
"I don't know," Sam said with a shrug of his shoulder.
"You didn't invite friends over, did you?" John questioned.
"No!" Sam said a bit insulted. He wouldn't do that with Dean just getting out of the hospital. "Maybe Dean invited Justin over."
"He wouldn't do that without asking me."
"I wouldn't either. I don't even do that when it's just me and Dean."
"Sam..."
KNOCK KNOCK
"Never mind," John said tiredly. He put down the dishrag and went to go answer the door.
"Go sit down, Dean," John instructed his eldest when he found him half way to the door.
"I got it," Dean insisted. He was fine. Why was everyone treating him like an invalid? His doctor had even said that his leg was healing nicely and that there was no reason he couldn't return to school tomorrow. Dean decided to ignore his father and he continued toward the door.
"I said go sit," John ordered, causing Dean to halt in his tracks.
"I'm fine," Dean shot back.
"Go sit, it's an order," John fired out before he could stop himself. Dean reacted instantly, and turned back toward the living room. There had been no customary "yes sir", which indicated that Dean was mad. He could feel a headache building behind his eyes. Why did he seem to screw everything up lately with both his sons?
John pulled the door open and his headache skyrocketed into migraine territory when he saw the social worker standing on his front doorstep.
------
Samantha Anderson pulled into driveway of the small, run down house. Her visit wasn't scheduled until tomorrow, but she had gotten back into town early and she preferred surprise visits anyway, it gave her more of a feel for how things really were. Exiting her Ford Taurus, she walked up the pathway and knocked on the door.
"Good evening, Mr. Winchester," she greeted in a friendly tone, and held out her hand.
"Um, Ms. Anderson?" John said raising his voice slightly at the end, making his statement a question. "Did I get the dates mixed up?"
"No, I was in the neighbourhood and decided that it would be a good time to get this over with."
"Um, come in," John replied as he stepped aside. "Can I take your coat?"
"Thank you," she said as she shed the heavy winter garment.
"Who is it, dad?" Dean asked hobbling to the front door.
"Hello, Dean," Samantha greeted. "It's good to see you got out of the hospital."
Dean didn't react, he just looked toward his father, and Samantha could tell they were having a silent conversation with their eyes. She wished that she had the ability to read it.
"Let's take a seat, there are some questions I'd like to ask you, Mr. Winchester," Samantha proposed.
John led her to the living room, since it was more comfortable for Dean to stretch his leg out there. It was a standard interview about the boys and school, and their friends and responsibilities. She asked about John's work history and he spun a story about businesses closing, and about starting his own business and the funding falling through. He had Joshua and Caleb's numbers that Samantha could call and verify his story.
"I'd like a tour of the place," Samantha requested looking around.
"Follow me," John replied leading the way, with Dean at his heels, trying to keep up.
Samantha did a thorough inspection of the house. John was sweating bullets. The arsenal of weapons was locked in a closet in the back and so far, Samantha had looked in every closet and cupboard. If she saw it, he'd lose his boys so fast his head would spin.
Dean knew what his dad was worried about. He caught Sam's eye and Sam gave a brief nod, indicating that he understood.
"Ms. Anderson," Sam replied tugging gently on her arm. "You absolutely have to taste dad's apple pie. It's homemade and the best thing ever," he said enthusiastically.
Dean limped up to his brother and the social worker. "Sam's right. Dad's the best cook, and his apple pie should win awards."
"I appreciate the offer, boys, but I don't think..."
"Trust me," Dean said smoothly. "This is a once in a life time opportunity." He gently, but firmly nudged her toward the kitchen.
"You have to try some," Sam said and unleashed his secret weapon, his puppy dog eyes. They never failed.
"Alright, if you insist," Samantha said reluctantly. She could smell the cinnamon and apples coming from the kitchen and it did smell good.
"We do," Sam said and led her in to the kitchen, Dean following closely at Sam's heels.
John had no idea what his boys were up to. From the kitchen, the forbidden closest would be on full display. John had to hand it to his boys the way the next events unfolded. They both deserved an academy award. The kitchen was small, and Sam cut a piece of the store bought apple pie and started toward Samantha. In a carefully calculated move, Sam made it appear as if he accidentally tripped over Dean's crutch. The pie landed with a splat on the lap of the social worker.
"Good going, Sammy," Dean berated his brother, in a tone that sounded real.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Sam said apologetically. "It was an accident. I didn't mean..."
"It's okay," Samantha said stiffly. She really hoped that the stains would come out. This was a brand new outfit. "Could you just show me to the bathroom?"
"Sure," Dean replied. "Follow me. Sammy, can you clean up?"
"Sure. Please, Ms. Anderson, I'm so sorry," Sam continued to apologise
"Accidents happen." Samantha acknowledged. "The bathroom please."
The bathroom was at the back of the house, and when the door shut, John reacted instantly. He opened the closet and stuffed the weapons duffle into a closet that Samantha had already checked. 15 minutes later, when Samantha exited the bathroom, Dean was seated on the couch with a book and Sam and John were in the kitchen finishing the dishes.
Samantha completed her tour of the house, said she would be in touch, and left.
"Did you see the look on her face?" Sam exploded with laughter when the car pulled away.
Dean wasn't far behind. "I know. She looked like she was going to shi..."
"Dean!" John cut him off.
"Sorry sir."
John gave in and joined his sons in their laughter. It felt so good after the weeks of tension. His boys made a great team, and heaven help anyone that tried to come between them.
--------
Dean was a little nervous about returning to school, and it didn't help that his father got out of the car to accompany him in.
"We need to go see your principal," John explained.
"About what?" Dean asked warily. He couldn't have done anything to get in trouble. He hadn't even been there for almost a month, and he was actually caught up in all his work and ahead in some subjects.
"He wants to review your work. Determine..." John trailed off.
"What? I don't need some tutor," Dean said guessing at what his father was about to say.
"I know you don't," John confirmed. "Your principal will see that."
Dean scowled but said nothing.
"Dean," John said in a warning tone. "I know it wasn't your fault, okay?"
The meeting with the principal was surprisingly short. She reviewed the assignments that he Dean had done while hospitalized, and agreed with John that he shouldn't have any problem going back to his regular classes. John took a certain amount of pleasure in the smirk he gave the woman. It clearly said "I told you so." The principal also gave Dean a key to the faculty elevator for his classes that were on the second floor, effectively guaranteeing that his stubborn son would take the stairs.
"I'll see you after school," John said as he walked out the building.
"Yeah fine," Dean mumbled as he made his way down the hall toward his locker without even saying goodbye.
-------
The entire day at work, John only thought about one thing. What the hell was bugging his eldest son? With the exception of a few moments, Dean had been in a funk since he'd gotten home the day before. Part of him wanted to chalk it up to Dean being nervous about going back to school, so he wouldn't have to deal with it. The rational part of him knew that Sam was right. He needed to call Dean on his bull. The problem was that he had no idea how.
Sam never hesitated to make his opinion known. If he had a problem, he announced it loud and clear. The problem was that Dean internalized everything. John could tell something was wrong with Dean just by looking into his eyes, they just didn't reveal the specific issue. Maybe he would ask Sam. The kid could read his older brother like a book.
When he got home that night, he cornered Sam, but Sam was as clueless as John.
John tried to lighten Dean's load. He and Sam took care of the housework, and John told Dean to just concentrate on his schoolwork. He even told his eldest he'd still look out for Sam.
Over the next few days, Dean seemed to get worse. He would get home from school and go directly to his room, coming out only for dinner, or to use the bathroom. Then Dean had brought home a math test that he had gotten an F on. He didn't think Dean had ever failed a math test in his life.
John confronted his son, but Dean just insisted that he had screwed up, insisted his father punish him, and send him to his room. John was at a loss as to what to do, so he did what Dean had asked for.
Nothing John said or did would get through to him, and it seemed that the more he tried, the deeper Dean withdrew into himself, and John was terrified of losing his son again. Dean had done this after his mom had died. John couldn't let it happen again. He was at his wit's end as to how to deal with it though.
The boys were in bed asleep and John was sitting at the kitchen table reading his journal. He was going over the notes he had made when Mary had died, to see if there was something there that he could use to get through to Dean.
RING RING
Sighing, John pushed the journal away and went to go get the phone.
"Hello," he greeted the caller.
"Hey, John, it's Joshua. I'm just calling to see how the boys are doing."
"Sam's okay. He and I have been getting along pretty good lately," John replied truthfully.
"And Dean?"
"His leg's healing nicely."
"What's wrong?" Joshua asked in concern. He easily read John's tone.
"It's just..." John said wearily. "Ever since he got home from the hospital," John trailed off. "I don't know what's wrong with him. He's been standoffish and moody. Then today he brings a math test with an F. An F, Joshua."
"Sounds like someone's looking for attention," Joshua guessed.
"What are you talking about?" John asked in confusion.
"It sounds like Dean's trying to get your attention. If I had to guess, I'd say he deliberately failed that math test."
"You think?" John replied.
"Yeah. Think about it, John. You've been burning the candle at both ends and haven't had much time to spend with either boy. I'm not saying that's your fault. I know you've been trying to make ends meet. Dean's so used to watching out for Sam though, and right now, he's laid up. You're doing his job."
"But you would think he would be grateful for the break. He's actually had a chance to be a teenager since the accident. He even made himself a friend."
"Dean's not a typical teenager, John. You know that. Remember when he was four and you brought him to me?" Joshua asked.
"Yeah," John replied. He'd taken off from Lawrence and had gone to Joshua, who was a doctor, to help him with his withdrawn son.
"Do you remember what you said to me?" Joshua reminded his friend.
------
1983.
"Hello, Mr. Winchester, Dean will be out in a minute," Alicia Horton, the receptionist said as she greeted the young man who had just walked into her office.
"Hi, Alicia. Any way I can pick Dean up a little early?"
"I think Dr. Barrister needs to speak to you," she said. "Let me buzz him and see what he says."
"Can it wait until next week? I really need to get going," John requested. He really didn't have any place he needed to be, it was just that this place made him feel highly uncomfortable.
"Have a seat. Just let me speak to the doctor."
John held his tongue and took a seat in one of the hard, plastic chairs that lined the wall of the office of Dr. Robert Barrister, child psychiatrist.
It had been just over 4 months since Mary had been killed. 4 months, four days, 18 hours, and 15 minutes since John's life had been destroyed.
Things were rough after the fire. They couldn't go back home, so John was staying with his good friends, Kathy and Mike Guenther, or he was trying to anyway. He appreciated the fact that they had taken him in, but they were driving him crazy.
There were lectures about his drinking, and how he needed to get back to work, to start living his life again. Worst of all though, were the lectures telling him that he was destroying his eldest child.
Dean hadn't coped well since his mother's death. He hadn't spoken since that night, hadn't said a single word, except when he woke up screaming from horrific nightmares, or when you took Sam away from him.
His baby brother was the only person he would interact with. Sammy couldn't move without Dean showing up behind him. Kathy and Mike said it wasn't healthy. John tried listening to them, and he let Kathy take Sam out for the afternoon without Dean.
Dean pitched a fit as he watched Kathy walk away. He screamed, cried, and tried to run after his brother, like he was afraid that Kathy would hurt Sammy, or wouldn't bring him back. It was after that disastrous day that they told him that Dean needed help, professional help.
John wanted to tell them where to put their advice, his son was fine, he just needed time, but when they threatened him with social services, John reluctantly agreed.
The problem was that it didn't seem to be helping. In fact, Dean seemed to be getting worse. Dr. Barrister told John that he wasn't allowed to bring Sam when he dropped Dean off, or picked him up. John disagreed, but then he wasn't the expert.
The first few sessions were a repeat of Kathy trying to take Sam out by himself. Dean didn't scream anymore when John dropped him off, but he seemed even more withdrawn, and he was anything but cooperative with his therapist.
"Mr. Winchester," a voice cut through his thoughts.
John looked up and saw Dr. Barrister coming out of his office. He could see Dean sitting at a table, crayons and papers were strewn all around him. Since he wasn't talking, his doctor was trying to get him to draw, but Dean didn't like that either, and had no problem in making his feelings known. It was killing the young father. Dean had been so full of life, always laughing and smiling, full of endless energy. He would give anything to get his boy back.
"Come here, kiddo," John said ignoring the doctor. It saddened him when Dean ran to his side, an expectant look on face, and stopped dead when he realized that his father didn't have Sammy. He looked behind his dad, looking for his brother, and when he didn't see him, John saw that Dean was about to lose it. Before Dean could start, John picked him up and squeezed him.
"Sammy's with Mike. He's fine, Dean, I promise. He's waiting for you to come home. He misses you."
Dean started squirming, indicating that he wanted down. John felt Dean start to tug on his sleeve, pulling him toward the door.
Dr. Barrister frowned. "Mr. Winchester, we need to talk."
"Can it wait until next week?" John said hating the pleading tone in his voice.
"No," the doctor insisted. "Alice will watch Dean. I need to speak to you privately."
"But..." John wanted to protest.
"Mr. Winchester, this is about your son."
"Fine," John agreed reluctantly. He knelt down so that he was at eye level with his son. "Dean, I need you to be a big boy for daddy, okay?" He had to steel himself when Dean's eyes spilled over. He only gave the big boy speech when he had to leave. "I'm coming back, son. I promise. When I do, maybe we'll go to McDonalds. You like their happy meals."
Dean didn't want his daddy to go away, but he knew he had to let him. It was the quickest way to get back to Sammy.
-----
John followed Dr. Barrister into the office and took a seat. The office was brightly decorated, with pictures of Disney characters, and other things kids would like. There were also lots of books and toys. Despite the bright and cheery nature of his surroundings though, John felt an uneasy sense of foreboding. He had a feeling that he wasn't going to like what Dr. Barrister had to say.
"Mr. Winchester, as I'm sure you've noticed, Dean is extremely withdrawn. He isn't making the progress that I'd hoped for."
"It's only been a couple of months," John pointed out. "You said yourself that it's going to take time."
"Yes, but I think we need to increase his sessions. He seems to be going backwards. I'm afraid we could lose him."
"He's already here 3 times a week."
"I think he needs intensive, one on one therapy on a daily basis."
"You want me to bring him every day?"
"I think you're missing the point. I think Dean needs to be admitted to a private hospital..."
"NO!" John thundered, causing the doctor to flinch. "My baby boy needs his family."
"He needs to find his way back on his own terms, and live for himself. It could be damaging to his long term psyche to make him so responsible for his brother."
"Sam's the only thing he responds to. I don't understand how taking that away is going help him."
"You're not listening," Dr. Barrister said to John as if he was speaking to a small child. "He needs to start..."
"I am listening. The answer's no!" John said finally and rose to leave.
"Please Mr. Winchester, reconsider..."
"Now who's not listening?" John said in the same patronizing tone. "I will continue to bring him here, but I will not put him in some psych ward, where they can drug him into submission."
John stormed out of the office before the doctor could say another word.
------
The single father was fuming as he drove back toward the Guenther's, but he tried to appear normal, since Dean was in his booster seat behind him. John didn't want him to pick up on his anger, so he kept up a cheerful dialog about how they would go to the movies that weekend, but inside, he was trying to figure out how to kill Dean's therapist and get away with it.
When they returned to the Guenther's, John assisted Dean out of the car, pulled out his keys and he and Dean entered the home. Dean immediately ran to Sammy's room. John just sighed. This was going to be tough.
"Hi, John," Kathy greeted him. "How did Dean's appointment go?" she asked. "That good, huh?" she added when she saw the look on John's face.
"This whole thing is a waste..." John said angrily.
"You have to give this time, John," Kathy interrupted before John could go off on a tirade. "You can't expect progress..."
It was John's turn to interrupt. "Overnight? Apparently, the doctor thinks so. Did you know that the quack had the nerve to suggest that I put Dean in the hospital? I can't... if I do that... Mary..." John trailed off.
Kathy felt her heart go out to the small family. In many ways, John was as lost as Dean. "I know you don't want to hear this, John..."
"Not you too," John said with a hint of betrayal. "I don't need to see some damn shrink. My baby needs me. Me, Kathy, not some doctor, and definitely not a hospital. I'd never get him back and you know it. What he needs, what we all need, is our own space. I appreciate what you and Mike have done for me, but I think it's time for us to get our own place."
Kathy did not think that was a good idea. John was barely functioning. He was not in any shape to be dealing with two small, grieving sons, one of whom was deeply traumatized.
"You don't have to leave, John," Kathy said trying to reason with him, but she knew it was a losing battle. John was as stubborn as the day is long.
"I do," he insisted. "I'm going to take the boys out for dinner, so you don't have to set a place for us."
"Okay," Kathy said knowing it would do no good to argue.
-----
The next week was one disaster after another. When John tried to force Dean to speak in a restaurant, his son had pitched a fit. Another time, when John tried to take Dean to a ball game, his son had cried for Sammy the entire time.
The harder he tried, the more Dean withdrew. Dr. Barrister threatened to go to the courts if John didn't agree to admit Dean to a hospital. That's when John lost his temper, called the guy a quack, and hauled off and decked him.
He took off that night. Missouri had given him the name of Pastor Jim Murphy, with whom he could take shelter. Jim then referred him to Joshua to help with Dean.
Joshua used a different approach. He encouraged John to bring Sam to Dean's therapy sessions. He encouraged Dean to leave his brother and father's side for longer and longer periods, proving to the young boy that his brother would be safe if Dean let him out of his sight. It was slow going, but Dean was making progress.
3 months after they had arrived in Blue Earth, when John put his son to bed, Dean pulled him into a hug and whispered, "I love you, daddy."
It was then that John realized that Dean had never stopped talking. John had just stopped listening.
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Present
"I said that Dean never stopped talking, I just stopped listening."
"Are you listening now, John?"
"I guess not," John admitted. "Thanks Joshua."
"You're welcome. Now go talk to that boy of yours."
John hung up the phone and went down the hall to his boys' room. Back then, Dean had needed to make sure his family was safe. It had always been Dean's job to look after Sam, and ever since the accident, John had been taking that away from him. The three of them would have a long talk tomorrow. He smiled at his sleeping sons. They looked so peaceful. John went down the hall to his own room and for the first time in a long time, he slept peacefully as well.
TBC
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