To every person who ever spent a birthday alone, who had someone special forget or couldn't see the people they loved for whatever reasons. This is for you.
-- Chapter Ten --
They didn't speak. The time for words was gone.
The barely moved at all. Strangers moved around them, glancing curiously at the strange pair. But no on was more foreign to either man than the other.
Father and Son. Commander and Solider. But they hardly knew each other.
The nurse, a plump but kind lady verging on her late forties had observed them from afar. She couldn't help but not notice the way the sat as far away from each other as possible, whilst glued at the side. As though they hated each other with a bitter passion, but were too afraid to loose the other.
John sighed, glancing over at his son, who really should have been in bed. He was slumped over slightly from the broken ribs, bandages winding around his hands and lower right arm. But it was the pain from injury that was hurting him.
It was something worse.
John closed his eyes, feeling sick to the stomach. What if they lost him? What if he died? He swallowed heavily, ignoring the faint prickling behind his eyes. He had failed his sons.
Anger swept over him as quickly as his nausea had. He wanted to kick something, scream, hunt. He needed to. Swearing angrily he threw a nasty look at the nurse and cursed his failures, trying to ignore that swimming guilt.
It wasn't meant to be this way.
-- -- -- -- -- --
6 Months Later
They stood over the grave. Hearts beating so loudly they were almost leaping from their chests.
They didn't say anything. This was all their fault. Each blaming themselves for the mess they were in. John hadn't been one for emotions recently. His son could hardly remember the last time he had yelled.
It was like they were tiptoeing around each other. The fuse was lit, but it hadn't struck havoc. Not yet.
The rain whipped at their face. Angrily John kicked the hard ground, watching with some satisfaction as mud sprayed everywhere.
The smile faded as the old grave was tarnished by his anger.
His eyes narrowed. Another thing that anger had ruined, however momentarily as the mud was washed away by the onslaught of rain.
If he hadn't been so angry over Mary's death…
If he hadn't been so angry at himself for forgetting…
What if…? He asked bitterly. He couldn't change the past today. It hurt too much to think about, and the only retribution had to come from himself.
Could he leave this all for his selfishness though? Another failure. It won't happen again. "Never." He whispered.
Beside him, his son scoffed as though reading his thoughts. "It's too late for empty promises dad."
John stood for a moment, the words sinking into his head. A part of him agreed, but scowling, he hated being told. It meant everyone knew. He deserved it. This failure. He would never forget it. How could he forget that sharp stinging in his heart that fateful day? How could he forget the way he'd left his son?
How? He could almost hear the accusing voice of Mary in his head. Accepting guilt he sent a silent prayer to the love of his life.
Dark eyes met fuming ones. Something silent passed between them.
"Why did we come here anyway?" John demanded. His eyes darted across the grave again. This was just for ceremony. There wasn't anything in it anyway. This place held no meaning.
"Because," his son struggled for a minute. "I miss…"
"Missing won't bring anyone back." John barked, angry. He had never dealt very well with anything. And for a second both were vividly reminded of Dean's own attitudes.
His son scowled. "We were in town anyway." He turned back to the grave, "it just seems right to pay our respects, however late." He sounded awkward, like the emotions he was meant to have were foreign. It was a duty thing, with some deeper motive.
His father nodded, not bothering to argue. Arguing had wasted too much. Time was too long gone. Words were just big things thrown around by fools. They had only made life worse for the pair.
With one last glance at the grave they started to leave.
The settled into that silence. Both painfully aware of the missing presence. Things just never were the same. Not today, not yesterday. Not any day in the past six months.
And they never would be. Something was missing.
Being Winchesters, they had yet to deal with it. A lasting tribute to a lifelong tirade of chick-flick moments.
It was awkward, silent.
But there was something that kept them together.
-- A/N --
Things are not what they seem. So don't flame me – there's more to it than this.
You'll find out what kept them together next update, if you want one that is. Review and let me know, please.
Finally: Thankyou so much for all of the people who have extended their support and best wishes in the wake of my last chapter. It is much appreciated.