Raising Winchesters

Chapter 4

Pastor Jim Murphy was a force to be reckoned with, but John thought he was more than force enough. His determination to learn absolutely everything he could about whatever it was that killed his wife was motivation enough for him, at least. It didn't matter to him that he had two small boys to take care of. He did what he had to do for the boys, but every other waking second was filled with reading books on the supernatural and learning how to fight.

It helped that he was a marine and was already trained in hand-to-hand combat, weaponry, and other combat skills. John was already an expert rifleman and also knew all the ins and outs of basic reconnaissance and warfare tactics. He definitely had a leg up on other beginning hunters.

What he didn't know, though, was how to handle the multitude of monsters that didn't succumb to an ordinary lead bullet. Vampires, werewolves, witches, skinwalkers, black dogs….. It wasn't that long ago that he didn't even know these things existed and now he was learning how to hunt them down and kill them.

Jim Murphy and John Winchester definitely had differing ideas on how to train. John wanted to dive in head first on the actual hunts, but Jim insisted that he spend the appropriate amount of time learning everything he needed to know about the things he would be hunting. That meant that John spent hour after hour after hour looking through book and handwritten notes. Hours and hours and hours that he would have much rather been out there looking for what killed his Mary and any other evil thing he came across.

John Winchester wasn't a patient man. And he definitely didn't like doing things somebody else's way.

Pastor Jim didn't know what to make of the small family that had suddenly infiltrated his home. John was an abrupt man that didn't take kindly to commands or even suggestions, regardless of the spirit they were given in. His manner of parenting left a lot to be desired, but Jim knew better than to question the man about it. At least in the beginning. He didn't agree with how the man was raising his sons, especially the way he was raising the oldest boy.

Dean Winchester was an enigma. His first impression of the boy was that he was scared of everything, but he learned fairly quickly that wasn't true. Of course, the boy was scared, but Jim was amazed when that fear seemed to disappear whenever Dean was taking care of his little brother. The meek little boy, whose eyes darted around the room furtively, completely vanished the moment Sam needed anything. Dean was more competent at taking care of a baby than he was!

Jim watched from afar as Dean, who was barely five years old, fed his little brother and changed his diaper. He watched as the boy climbed into the bath with the baby, making sure that Sam didn't hurt himself in the water. He watched as Dean laid the baby on the bed at night before climbing up next to him and cuddling him into his side. The two boys slept as if they were one, arms and legs entwined together, connecting them even in sleep.

Dean wasn't much of a talker, but he talked to his brother. And Jim wasn't sure, but he thought there were times he heard the boy singing to his brother, hardly loud enough for anyone else to hear. But whatever he was doing, the baby liked it. Whenever Sam cried, he cried for Dean. Not John or anyone else. The baby was never quite settled unless Dean was nearby. And the same could be said for the older boy. Whenever Sam was out of his sight, Dean was nervous and anxious, and it broke Jim's heart.

He watched Dean do the things that a father should be doing, and even though he understood what was driving John Winchester to hunt, he didn't understand how the man could do what he was doing to his sons. Those boys deserved a father! They deserved more than life on the road and whatever was leftover at the end of the day of their father's attention.

Jim decided within two days of knowing the little Winchester family that he would do whatever he could to help them. Especially Sam and Dean. He knew without a doubt that he would protect them, no matter the cost.

Dean wasn't sure what to make of the man they were staying with. For the most part, the man left them alone, but he was always watching. Always making sure that they had what they needed. That Dean sat down at the table and ate an actual meal. That they had enough blankets to keep them warm at night. That Dean wasn't always the first one to react to Sammy's tears.

Of course, Dean was distrusting of the man. He watched Jim as much as Jim watched him, making sure that the man wasn't going to do anything to his little brother. The second Sammy started crying, Dean jumped up to help him, panicking whenever Jim made it to his brother first. Dean was the one to always feed Sam, even if that meant his own dinner grew cold in the process.

There were a few times when John would be present at the table and take over feeding the baby while Dean ate, but those times were few and far between. There were a few times when the man would be there to tuck them into bed, but Dean hated those times. He hated how distracted his dad was, tucking them in quickly, anxious to get back downstairs to the books Dean had learned to hate.

Dean missed his dad. His whole life had been turned upside down and one of the only constants in his life was suddenly too busy for him and Sammy. More often than not, John would growl at Dean if he interrupted him during one of his research sessions. Dean learned quickly to stay out of the way of his father, hanging around on the periphery of wherever the man was only when Sam was asleep, knowing that the sounds of the baby crying or chattering was too distracting for the man.

Eventually, Dean started to seek out Jim more and more. He quickly learned that Jim didn't mind his presence. That whatever the man was doing, he would gladly stop the minute Dean poked his head around the corner. And Jim would talk and talk to Dean, not minding that fact that the boy never answered. John would often yell at Dean that he needed to start talking, but Jim just let the boy be. Dean even heard him tell his dad that Dean would talk when he was good and ready. John argued with the man, but eventually gave in.

It was almost three weeks after they had arrived at Pastor Jim's that Dean finally started talking again. He really didn't mean to, because he really didn't feel like talking yet, but he found himself in a little bit of trouble and he really needed to talk himself out of it.

His dad and Pastor Jim were off doing some "hunting" and Dean suddenly found himself alone with some old woman that kept patting him on the head and clucking her tongue at him like something was sad. He hated her.

He hated her so much, in fact, that it wasn't his fault that it happened. A man could only take so much, right? Sam was down for his nap and Dean was wandering around the room, wishing that he could go outside and explore a little. Since it was still pretty cold outside, he had been cooped up inside for far too long and he really felt like he needed to stretch his legs, to run and play like a normal five year old. But old Mrs. Howard wouldn't let him go outside. She insisted that he stay inside where she could keep an eye on him. Dean thought that if she patted his head one more time, he'd probably scream. Even if it woke up Sammy.

He had been up in their room for almost twenty minutes when Mrs. Howard opened the door and stuck her head in.

"Hello, dear….What are you still doing awake? You're supposed to be taking a nap."

Dean looked at her like she had suddenly grown two heads. He stared at her and refused to move from where he was standing, but this only resulted in her coming further into the room.

"Dean? Why aren't you in bed, sweetheart?"

Dean looked away from her, choosing to ignore her in the hopes that she would leave him alone. It didn't work. And Dean could tell that she was getting mad.

"Dean, you're being very, very naughty," she said as she went over to the bed where Sam was sleeping. She bent down to pull the blanket back up onto the baby, but stopped when Dean's angry voice echoed in the small room.

"Leave him alone! Don't touch him!" he screamed as he made his way quickly over to his brother. He didn't hesitate to push the woman out of the way so he could get to his brother. Unfortunately, he pushed her harder than he intended and Mrs. Howard was knocked down to the floor.

"Dean! What are you doing?!"

"Stay away from Sammy!" Dean yelled.

By this time, the woman had gotten back on her feet and was making her way back over to Sam who had woken up and was crying. Before she made it even a step forward, Dean was standing in front of her, pushing her backwards.

"Dean! What has gotten into you, young man?"

Now, Dean was screaming over and over again. "Leave us alone! Leave us alone! Leave us alone!"

Mrs. Howard took a few steps backwards, hoping that Dean would calm down a little once he realized that she wasn't a threat. Unfortunately, by this time, Sam's cries had joined in with Dean's, creating a cacophony of sound that nearly pierced her eardrums.

Before anything else could happen, the bedroom door flew open and John's big frame filled the doorway. He immediately looked around the room, trying to pin down whatever it was that was obviously threatening his children. When he didn't see anything out of the ordinary, he turned to look at the older woman he had left in charge.

"What the hell is going on?" he thundered, causing Sam to cry even louder and Dean to stop yelling.

By this time, Jim had also entered the room, trying to calm the situation down. "Martha? What happened?"

"I don't know, James. I came up here to check on them and Dean just went berserk. I know he didn't mean to push me down. It was just an accident, I'm sure."

"He pushed you down?" John asked angrily, before turning to glare at his son.

Jim could tell that John was growing angrier by the second, so he tried to diffuse the situation. "John, why don't you see what's wrong with Sam? I'll take Martha and Dean downstairs."

"Dean's staying here," John growled. "I think we need to have a chat."

Jim waited for Martha to start heading down the stairs before addressing the angry man in front of him. "John, I think we all need to take a breath first. Figure out what's going on before doing anything about it."

"I can't figure out what's going on if I don't talk to Dean, Jim."

"Okay, but you're just going to talk, right?"

"That depends on what I find out, doesn't it? Dean better have a good excuse for pushing that old woman down. He was raised better than that."

Jim looked over at Dean, whose eyes were now filled with tears. "Just be patient," he said as he looked back to John. "Control your temper, John. And remember he's just a kid."

"Yeah, well he's a kid that knows better than to shove someone."

Jim turned and walked out of the room, praying that the man would find a way to stay calm. Otherwise, Dean Winchester was truly in for it.

John picked Sam up and held him tightly. He hated the way the little body was trembling, so he was relieved when he started to feel Sam relax.

"Hey, little buddy…. It's okay. What got you all riled up?" He rubbed Sam's back for several minutes and eventually the baby fell back to sleep. After putting him back down on the bed, John finally turned back to Dean, who until then had been standing nervously in the corner of the room.

"Come here, Dean," John said as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

Dean didn't move until John's repeated "Dean" filled the air. Moving forward slowly, he stopped directly in front of his father. John reached out and grabbed Dean's arms firmly, but gently.

"Eyes up, Dean," he said. Dean immediately looked up at his dad, his chin quivering slightly and his eyes still filled with tears. John's heart ached at the sadness that filled his son's face and he felt the anger drain from his body. "Dean, what happened? Did Mrs. Howard do something?"

Dean stared at his dad before nodding his head slightly.

"Did she hurt you? Or Sammy?" John asked, his anger swelling again with each second that went by.

Dean paused again, but eventually shook his head no.

"Come on, kiddo. This is going to take all day if you don't talk to me." When Dean still didn't answer, John decided to bring out the big guns. "Well, I guess if you're not going to tell me what happened, I'm going to have to assume that you were just misbehaving and pushed Mrs. Howard for the hell of it."

Dean's eyes widened, but he still didn't say anything.

"Okay, son. You leave me no choice here. Remember what happened last year when you pushed Robbie off the swing? I told you that if you ever did that again, I'd have to spank you. Remember?"

The tears filling Dean's eyes spilled over and ran down his cheek. He tried to pull away from his dad, but John's grip tightened. Letting out a big sigh, John picked Dean up and sat him on his lap.

"Come on, son. If you could just tell me what happened, we can figure this all out, okay? I don't want to have to spank you."

John gave Dean a few minutes and just when he thought he was going to have to go through with punishing the boy, Dean spoke.

"I didn't mean to push her, Daddy. I was just trying to get to Sammy."

John's eyes filled with his own tears at the sound of Dean's voice. He didn't realize just how much he had missed the beautiful sound of it. "Why did you need to get to Sammy, Dean?"

"She tried to make me take a nap, Daddy. I told her that I didn't have to take a nap, but she said that all little kids took naps. I'm not a little kid, Daddy," Dean said indignantly.

John still didn't understand how that lead to Dean pushing the poor woman down. "So you told her you didn't take naps? Is that it?"

Dean shook his head no. When he didn't offer anything more, John cleared his throat loudly. "Dean…."

"She said I was naughty. And I, um….. I yelled at her. Sammy woke up and she tried to pick him up."

John frowned at his son. "You yelled at her because she said you were naughty? Really?"

"She tried to pick Sammy up," Dean repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I told her to leave him alone."

"Dean, she was here to take care of you and Sam. She was just trying to help Sam."

"But that's my job," Dean cried. "I'm s'posed to watch out for Sammy, remember?"

"Dean, it's not only your job to watch out for your brother. She was just trying to help."

"I don't need her help," Dean pouted. "I can take care of Sammy all by myself, Daddy."

John spent the next several minutes trying to explain why he should have let Mrs. Howard help with Sam and why it wasn't that unusual for a five year old to take a nap. He wasn't sure he made any real progress with the boy, but at least he knew by the end that Dean really hadn't meant to push the woman down.

"Okay, listen up, son….. We're going to go downstairs and you're going to apologize to Mrs. Howard for yelling at her and for pushing her down. Understand?

Dean didn't look happy with the idea, but eventually he nodded his head. John checked on Sam, who was still sound asleep, before turning back to his oldest. "Dean? Thanks for talking to me, kid. I missed your voice."

Dean smiled before climbing down from John's lap and heading to the door.

Once they were downstairs, Dean stopped in front of Mrs. Howard, who was sitting on the sofa, sipping a cup of tea. She put the cup down on the table and looked down at the small boy in front of her.

"Mrs. Howard? I'm really, really sorry for, um…..for being, um….for yelling at you and pushing you. I really didn't mean to push you down."

"Oh, sweetheart…. It's okay. I know you didn't mean to push me over. And maybe next time, you'll remember to use your inside voice, especially when your brother is sleeping. Now, how about I cut you a slice of that pie I baked earlier. How does that sound?"

Dean's face brightened at the mention of pie, causing the three adults to laugh. And he didn't even mind it when Mrs. Howard patted him on the head as she walked by.

Author's note: Yay! Dean's starting to talk again. What a relief!

I'm not super happy with this chapter, but it is what it is, right? I hope you all enjoyed it, at least. Thanks so much for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts.