Raising Winchesters
Chapter 14
Dean was the last one to wake up, thanks to the larger dose of Children's Nyquil his dad had given him sometime during the night. He rolled over in the bed, trying to get his eyes to stay open for longer than two seconds, but they wouldn't. Eventually, after a few eye rubs and whole body stretches, his eyes stayed open and came to focus on the small form of Sam sitting next to him.
"Dean! You're awake," Sam said, excitedly bouncing a little on the bed. "I didn't think you were ever gonna wake up."
"Mornin', Sam," Dean answered with a yawn, completely missing the strange look Sam gave him.
"It's not morning, Dean," Sam explained. "Daddy already made me breakfast and lunch. You shoulda seen it, Dean…. He burned the grilled cheese and the curtain caught on fire! And Daddy said some really bad words!"
Dean couldn't help but groan at the idea of the mood his dad was no doubt in after nearly burning down the cabin. "Where's Dad now?" he asked.
"He's outside, Dean. He told me to stay in here, on the bed with you until he came back."
Dean tried to push away the fear that suddenly found its way back to him. Looking around the room, he noticed that the sun was lower in the sky that he thought it should be. How long did he sleep?
With another more pressing need suddenly making itself known, Dean rolled over and stood up, holding one hand on the bed frame to steady himself. He felt dizzy as he stood there and his legs felt like jello. He wondered if that's what it felt like to get drunk and he suddenly had no desire to ever touch a bit of alcohol.
He grabbed some clothes out of his duffel and made his way slowly to the bathroom. Sam followed right behind him, not wanting to be left alone for even a second. Once Dean got to the bathroom, he held up a hand, stopping Sam's progress at the door. "I don't need an audience, Sammy," he said as he stepped in the rest of the way and closed the door.
"Dean!" Sam yelled as he pounded on the door. "I'm not a….. uh, a….. what did you say? Dean, it's just me… Sammy."
Dean felt bad for shutting Sam out, but he also wanted a little bit of privacy. Knowing that his little brother was only half a minute away from throwing an epic tantrum, Dean yelled back through the door. "Just give me a minute, okay? I'll be right out."
Sam continued to pound on the door, but the terrified yelling stopped. Now, all Dean could hear was Sam quietly saying his name over and over again. He felt awful for putting Sam through that, but he also just wanted two minutes of privacy. That wasn't too much to ask, was it?
Once he was done using the toilet, Dean changed out of his pajamas and put on his clothes. His head was pounding even harder after he bent down to pull off his pajama pants, but he was eventually able to dress himself. Once he was done, he opened the door to find Sammy leaning against it.
"See? I told you I'd be right out, Sammy. You didn't need to worry."
"Daddy told me I had to stay with you, Dean. He said I wasn't s'posed to leave you!"
"You didn't leave me. I was just right there in the bathroom."
"Daddy said, Dean."
"I don't care what Dad said, Sam. I was just going to the bathroom!" Dean's frustration with his brother was already at a dangerous level, but he grew even more frustrated when he heard the sound of his dad clearing his throat right behind him.
"What was that, Dean? You were saying something about not caring about what I said?"
Dean whirled around to face his father, his hand holding onto the bathroom door to keep him steady. "Dad! I didn't mean it! I was just trying to get Sam to shut-up."
John eyed his son closely, taking in the slightly flushed cheeks and the way he was hanging onto the door. He could tell that Dean was still feeling sick, so he decided to go easy on him. "Don't ever let me hear those words come out of your mouth again, you hear me?"
"Yes, sir," Dean answered immediately.
"Okay. Are you hungry? You missed breakfast and lunch."
"A little," Dean admitted.
John turned and walked back down the short hall, leaving Dean and Sam to follow. Dean glared at Sam, angry that he had almost gotten into trouble. He couldn't' stay mad long, though, because Sam was looking up at him with his big eyes, silently asking him not to be mad.
"C'mon, Sammy," he said, grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him towards the kitchen.
Dean didn't eat very much of the soup and sandwich his dad made for him. He could barely breathe through his nose and his throat was more painful than it had been the day before. Truth be told, he really just wanted to go back to sleep, but his dad had other plans.
"Listen up, boys. I fixed the generator, so the lights will stay on. The windows and doors are all salted and locked. And there's enough wood in the bin to keep the fire going for several days. Dean, do you remember what I told you about stoking and banking the fire?"
Dean looked up at his dad, confusion evident on his face. He wanted desperately to believe that he was misunderstanding what his dad's words were leading up to. Was he really going to leave again? And leave them all alone? What if that thing came back?
"Dean! Focus, son. I'm talking to you!"
Dean shook his head slightly, trying to clear it and focus on what his dad was saying. At the same time, he was trying to control his breathing. The last thing he wanted to do was start hyperventilating in front of the man. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, too. After a few seconds, he was finally able to answer the man. "Sorry, dad," he croaked.
John's eyes narrowed as he looked his son over. This wasn't the time for Dean to be sick. There was something going on in the woods around the cabin and he needed to be able to focus on the hunt, not on a sick kid. Not for the first time, he wished he'd just let the boys stay with Bobby. Hunting would be so much easier then.
"Okay, I'll be back as soon as I can. You know what to do, Dean."
"Dad, wait!" Dean yelled hoarsely. "Don't go. Please!"
"I have to go, Dean. I need to figure out what those creatures are, so I need to track them before the trail is lost."
"But what if it comes back?" Dean asked frantically. "What do I do?!"
"It can't get in, Dean."
"But what if it does?!"
"Then you shoot it! Like I trained you to do." John held out the gun Dean had nearly killed him with the night before. "Here, take it."
"I don't want it," Dean said, standing up from his chair and backing away from the gun.
"Dean, take the gun! You're wasting daylight here."
Dean was shaking his head 'no' and continued to back up until he felt the kitchen counter behind him. He didn't ever want to touch a gun again, especially that particular one.
"Damn it, Dean! I don't have time for this!"
Sam, who had been watching everything from the small table, stood up and ran over to his brother, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist. Dean reached down and pulled Sam closer to him. "Please, Dad. Please, don't go. Sammy needs you here."
For a single second, John almost gave in to the desperate pleading. He almost made the decision to pack the boys into the Impala and drive away as fast as he could, forgetting about whatever was out there. He almost made up his mind to let some other hunter take over this hunt.
But, he didn't. John Winchester never walked away from a hunt. He couldn't. In his mind, every single hunt he went on represented the only hunt that really mattered…. the hunt for whatever it was that killed his Mary. Giving up on a hunt was like giving up on her and he couldn't bring himself to do that.
And Dean knew that. He knew how important each hunt was. He knew it was their job to hunt the evil that was out there. He knew.
After a staring match between father and son, John had had enough. He knew that Dean was scared, especially after the near miss with the gun the night before, but he couldn't let the boy give in to that fear. Dean had to learn to push fear aside and do what was expected of him. He had to learn to follow orders without hesitation. And it was John's duty as his father to teach him.
"Son, I'm not telling you again to take the gun," John said coldly. He saw Dean flinch at the words, but the boy still made no move to step forward and take it. "If I have to come over there, you won't like the consequences, Dean."
Dean knew he needed to do what his father was telling him to do, but he couldn't move. It was like he was frozen in place and his own body was refusing to obey him. He couldn't make himself step forward and take the gun from his dad. His legs wouldn't move no matter how hard his brain tried to make them. So, he just stood there, clutching his brother to his side, looking up at his father with desperate, pleading eyes. Why couldn't his dad see how scared he was? How scared Sammy was?
He knew his father was furious. He could tell by the look in the man's eyes and by the way he was standing, stiff and unyielding as he stared down his son. Dean knew how important it was to his dad to be obeyed. He knew how much his dad hated insubordination and disobedience. And he'd learned through the years that outright defiance was the one thing John Winchester absolutely did not abide.
The next few seconds seemed to unfold at an alarmingly slow rate in Dean's mind. He helplessly watched as John crossed the small room in three big steps, coming to a stop directly in front of him. He watched as Sam was pulled away from him harshly and sent over to the couch with a hard smack to his backside. He watched as his father then turned back to him and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him over to a kitchen chair. He watched as the man lifted his own foot up onto the seat of the chair, and then felt himself being picked up and upended over the man's knee. It was like it was all happening to someone else at first- like he was an outsider watching the events unfold in front of him- but then he felt the sharp and painful sting of his father's hand meeting his backside, bringing him forcefully back to reality. Having been in a similar situation before, Dean wasn't surprised by how much the spanking hurt. But, he was surprised by the sense of betrayal he was feeling and the pain he felt as his heart shattered into a thousand pieces.
John knew he was being too hard on his son. He knew that the spanking he'd just delivered had been the hardest spanking Dean had ever received. And he hated that he had to do it, but he didn't regret it. Being a hunter was a difficult job. It required persistence and patience, hard work and endurance. It required intuition and instinct, responsiveness and awareness. It required trust and confidence. But, most of all, it required obedience and compliance. Whether that obedience was directed toward a superior hunter or to the unwritten laws of hunting didn't really matter. What mattered was that a hunter obeyed and obeyed without hesitation.
Dean needed to learn that. John suspected that the boy was going to grow up to be a great hunter and he was extremely proud of the progress his son was making in his training. Dean was already on his way to becoming a proficient marksmen and tracker. He was quick to soak in whatever knowledge of the lore John sent his way and could easily recite the methods of killing most monsters. He was both intuitive and instinctual and John suspected that he was just a natural born hunter. It was in his blood.
But Dean needed to learn the fine art and necessity of obedience. For the most part, he was usually very obedient. Of course, John had already had his fair share of having to discipline his oldest son for normal childhood disobedience like lying and talking back. On the whole, Dean was usually very respectful, but occasionally John had to call him out for being disrespectful. He wasn't stupid, though. He was completely aware that most of the times he'd had to discipline his son had something to do with Dean's unhealthy desire to keep his little brother out of trouble, at all costs. John knew that Sam got up to his own fair share of mischievousness and that Dean would do anything to shift the blame of whatever misdeed Sam was responsible for onto himself. Dean hated to see his brother punished, even if that punishment was something as simple as a five minute time-out.
But, Dean's behavior in the kitchen was completely unacceptable. John had given him a direct order and Dean had ignored him. In fact, he had given his son several direct orders and the boy had ignored every single one of them. John knew that on top of being sick, Dean was scared, but it didn't matter. The boy had to learn to not let his fear overwhelm him. He had to learn that fear was his enemy. That fear hindered him from being an effective hunter. That fear constrained him in ways he couldn't afford.
Dean had to learn to overcome his fear, or at the very least control it. He had to learn to act first and ask questions later. On a hunt, there wasn't time to analyze every single piece of information before acting. Analyzing was done in the preparatory phase of a hunt, not in the acting phase.
More than any of that, though, Dean needed to learn to do what he was told, without hesitation or arguing. He had to accept that John was in charge and that he knew best as to how things had to happen. He had to learn immediate obedience to anything John said, to any order that left John's mouth. There was no time for independent thinking, just as there was no time to be scared.
John hoped that by lighting a roaring fire in the kid's backside, the lesson would be driven home appropriately.
After his dad was done lighting his backside on fire, Dean felt the man lift him and place him back on his feet. Dean swayed for several seconds as one hand moved to rub his eyes and the other moved to rub the sting out of his bottom. He felt his dad's hand gripping his shoulder firmly in an attempt to steady him and despite his anger at the man for spanking him, he felt himself leaning into him slightly.
"Are you ready to do as you were told now?" John asked, squeezing Dean's shoulder.
"Yes, sir," he answered as he felt a new wave of tears flood his eyes at the thought of having to take the gun from his dad. The events of last night had truly shaken his confidence and he was terrified. He had almost killed his dad, so the last thing he wanted was to hold that gun in his hand and be responsible for making such horrible decisions like 'shoot first, ask questions later' ever again. He felt like no one ever won in that situation.
John reached behind his back and pulled the gun back out, holding it out to his son. "Take it," he said simply. He noticed how much Dean's hands were trembling as he reached for the gun. Just as he was about to take the gun, though, Dean hesitated and pulled his hand back. "Dean," John growled. "Do we need to continue where we left off?"
"N-No, sir," Dean answered. He wiped his hands on the front of his shirt and then reached out and grabbed the gun from his dad.
"Take some deep breaths, son," John instructed. "Calm yourself down."
Dean took several deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth in an attempt to calm himself down. He could feel some of his apprehension leave him, but not all of it, and he tried his best to hide it from his father.
"Better?" John asked as he watched Dean closely.
"I-I think s-so." After a pause, Dean continued. "I'm sorry, sir. For, uh….. um, for being scared."
"You don't have to apologize for being scared, Dean. Fear is a normal thing and can be put to good use if you don't let it control you."
Dean suddenly found himself registering more of his surroundings than just his dad and the gun. For the first time, he could hear Sam crying and he suddenly remembered the hard smack his dad had delivered to his little brother's backside. Without hesitating, Dean slipped the gun into the back of his jeans and headed over to the couch, anxious to calm his brother down.
"Hey, Sammy," Dean said as he sat next to his crying brother. The next thing he knew Sam was climbing up onto his lap, burrowing his face into his chest and wrapping his arm's tightly around Dean's neck. John watched on from where he was standing, feeling a little guilty at the way he had treated his youngest son. Sam hadn't done anything wrong. He just happened to be in the way and John just wanted him moved, so he could deal with Dean.
After a few minutes of Dean holding Sam and whispering in his ear, Sam pulled away and looked over at John. John hated the look of fear and betrayal that was written all over the little face and he had no idea how to make it better. He stepped over to the couch, not missing the way Dean held onto Sam a little tighter and turned so his own body was sheltering Sam away from John.
Without a word, John bent down and picked Sam up. Sam struggled for a few seconds, but then gave up and allowed John to hold him. His body was completely stiff, though, making it a little awkward for his dad.
"Hey, Sammy…. You okay?" John asked his youngest.
Sam just looked at him with his teary eyes. John hadn't ever told anyone, but Sam's eyes were just like John's mother's eyes and looking into them sometimes caused his heart to ache.
John knew he owed his youngest an apology, but he couldn't bring himself to deliver it. Instead, he just tried to hold onto the boy for a few minutes. Eventually, he put Sam back down on the couch next to Dean, watching as the two nearly melded together. He hated having to leave them again, especially after the last fifteen minutes of the day, but he needed to get going. Precious time was slipping away from him and he could feel the pressure to finish the hunt increasing exponentially with each passing second.
After another minute of watching his sons, John finally made his move. "Dean, when I leave, I want you to lock the door behind me and check the salt lines. Make sure they're all still intact. There's the makings for sandwiches in the refrigerator or you can make some mac and cheese. And you're due for another dose of your medication in about an hour, okay? Make sure you take it."
Dean nodded his head, hoping that was enough of an answer for his dad. He was surprised when the man didn't demand a verbal answer.
"Okay, I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise. Sammy? Listen to Dean. He's in charge. Dean, watch out for Sammy."
Without another word, John turned and walked to the front door. Sam and Dean watched as he stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind him, never once looking back for one last glance at his boys.
Author's note: Whew! That was a tough one. I really hope I didn't make you all hate John Winchester even more than you already do. If I did, I apologize. ;)
The Supernatural Las Vegas convention was so much fun, just so you all know. Seeing Jensen Ackles singing live was definitely a high point. If you ever get the chance to attend one, I'd suggest doing it!
Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. You guys are all amazing and I truly appreciate it. I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter and I want to remind you that I at least didn't leave you all hanging off of a cliff with this one.