Raising Winchesters

Chapter 38

Recap: Dean cried even harder, though. "I don't want to be a hunter anymore, Dad. I don't want to ever touch a gun again."

"Dean…."

"No! I don't want to! This all happened because you're a hunter, Dad. This wouldn't've happened if Mom were still alive. She wouldn't let something like this happen, ever."

John stood up so fast that the chair he was sitting in toppled over. "That's enough! You did what you had to do and there's nothing more to it, Dean. You need to deal with it. And don't let me ever hear you talk about your mother like that. You don't have a clue what would've happened if she was alive."

"Dad…"

"I'm done talking about it, boy. The woman is dead and yes, you killed her. We're not going to talk about this anymore, understand?" When Dean didn't answer, John raised his voice. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered. His eyes nervously found his father's eyes, but quickly looked away. When John didn't say anything else, he turned himself back around on the couch, curled up in a ball, and let his tears finally fall.

The few days following the death of Nora were hard on everyone, especially Dean.

John continued to be angry about the events leading up to his pre-teen son having to shoot a witch. He also wasn't particularly happy with how Dean was handling the aftermath.

And Dean was completely aware of his dad's disappointment. He saw it in the way the man looked at him. He heard it in the man's voice whenever he addressed him. And he saw it whenever the man seemed to go out of his way to avoid him.

Everyone in the house seemed to be walking around on eggshells and it did nothing to make Dean feel better.

It all came to a head a few days later when John took Dean out back to do some target practice. Bobby and Jim watched as John ordered Dean out to the back yard. They watched as John ordered Dean to pick up the gun. And they watched as Dean absolutely refused.

Both men were at the ready to interfere if they needed to and it didn't take long to figure out that their interference was indeed needed. By the time Jim- who was a faster runner than Bobby- made it to where the Winchesters were standing, John had completely lost his temper. While one hand was holding Dean by the arm, his other hand was falling rapidly to meet the boy's backside, loud thwacks filling the mid-day air.

Jim and Bobby were both yelling at John to stop, but the man didn't even seem to comprehend that they were there. His sole focus was on the kid in front of him. The kid who was being utterly disobedient and disrespectful. And John Winchester didn't tolerate disobedience or disrespect, especially coming from Dean.

Along with the sound of John's hand landing on Dean's backside, his yells also rent the air. Dean, on the other hand, was quiet and putting up very little fight. The boy danced around a bit, trying to escape the slaps, but he didn't utter a single word or make a single sound more than the few gasps that escaped him.

Bobby finally grabbed the back of John's flannel, jerking him backwards at the same time that Jim pulled Dean forward. Dean flew into Jim's arms, burying his face in the man's chest and John fell to the ground, landing hard on his back. Bobby placed a foot on the man's chest, hoping to send him the message that he needed to stay down. John struggled to get up for a few seconds, but he gave up pretty quickly.

"Get off me, Singer," he growled breathlessly.

"Stay down, Winchester," Bobby growled back. "Jim? Take Dean back to the house."

"No," John said a little louder. "We're not done here."

"Yes, you are, John. Jim? Go on. Me and John are going to stay out here for a little while. We've got some things to talk about."

Jim gently steered Dean towards the house, practically frog-marching him back to the porch. He could see the tears falling down Dean's face, but he knew better than to acknowledge them. Dean hated for people to know he'd been crying, so Jim ignored the way he frantically rubbed his face with the elbow of his shirt.

Once they were inside the house, Jim led Dean into the bathroom, knowing that the boy needed some time to pull himself together. Once Dean was standing by the sink, Jim turned to leave. He stopped at the door, though, not quite ready to leave the boy alone yet.

"Are you okay, Dean?" he finally said after staring at the boy for several long seconds.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered quietly.

"Dean…"

"I'm okay, Pastor Jim."

Jim eyed the boy closely, knowing that he was lying, but not knowing what to do about it. Dean was anything but "okay," but John always taught his boys to keep their feelings to themselves. He taught them not to show too much emotion. And while Jim understood a little of why the man did what he did, he definitely didn't agree with it. '

Dean was just a child. He deserved to be able to act like a child, to be able to cry when he was upset or hurt. He deserved a better childhood. Sam did, too, of course, but Jim knew that Sam's childhood wasn't the same as Dean's. Sam was allowed to be more of a child than Dean ever had been. At least, since his mother died.

Sam had Dean to protect him, to be a buffer between him and his dad. Dean never really had that buffer. And John's expectations were different for each of them. While he expected both of them to behave and obey him, he always seemed to expect more from his oldest. Dean wasn't allowed the same mistakes as his brother, no matter the level of the mistake. In fact, Jim was pretty sure Dean wasn't allowed any mistakes at all.

Not knowing what else to say, Jim turned to close the door. Before he could, though, he said one last thing. "Dean, if you ever need to talk about anything, I'm here. Anytime, okay? I'm here."

Dean didn't answer, but Jim thought he saw the smallest of nods from the boy just before he closed the door.

Dean knew his dad was really, really mad at him. He knew that what he did was disrespectful and downright disobedient, but he just couldn't seem to help it. He just couldn't make himself take the gun his dad was holding out to him. Just looking at it made him break out in a cold sweat. His whole body instantly became hot and he could feel the sweat trickling down his back. He knew he was letting his father down. He knew he was showing weakness. He knew. But he couldn't bring himself to do anything different.

The idea of picking up a gun… of shooting it… was too much. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw himself firing the gun. He saw Nora falling backwards, her shirt front suddenly blooming in red. He heard the echo of the gunshot and the sound the witch's body made as it hit the ground. He heard it all and saw it all, over and over and over again, every single time he closed his eyes.

For the first time in a long time, Dean actually felt scared of his dad. Of course, the last time he'd felt that same fear was the night he let the Shtriga get near his brother. And Dean knew that he deserved every bit of his dad's anger that night. He shouldn't have left his brother alone. He should've been there when the Shtriga first showed up. And he shouldn't have hesitated to shoot the monster the second he saw it.

Sam almost died that night and Dean knew he was responsible for that near miss. Of course, there was a small part of him that knew he shouldn't have been put in that position in the first place. There was a small part of him that knew he was just a kid himself, even though he hadn't really felt like a kid since the night his mom had died.

But Dean's job was to watch out for Sammy and he took that job very seriously. But whose job was it to look out for him? Why did he have to be the one to kill the witch? Why did he have to be the one to kill those creatures at the cabin? Why did it have to be him?!

Suddenly, Dean felt more tired than any child his age should ever feel. With a small sob, he sat down on the floor, settling his back against the cold bathtub as he buried his face in his hands and allowed his tears to really fall.

He was just so tired.

"What the hell are you thinking, John?" Bobby roared. "Can't you see it's too soon? Dean isn't ready to get back to training. The boy is still healing from everything that's happened, not to mention he's still scared to death."

"He's not scared. He's a Winchester."

"The hell he isn't! I know you hear him waking up from his nightmares every night, John. I know you can see how tired he is. The kid hasn't had a single good night's sleep since this whole thing started."

"He'll get over it. He just needs things to get back to normal."

"He killed someone, John. Things aren't going to be normal for him for a while."

"He killed something, Bobby. He killed a monster. Just like I've been training him to do."

"He's too young to make that distinction, John. She looked like a woman, not a monster. Dean needs more time to wrap his head around it all."

"I think I know my son better than you, Singer. He's fine. He just needs to get back into the swing of everything. And there isn't enough time to ease him back into it."

Bobby couldn't believe what John was saying and he had a sudden desire to punch the man squarely in the face. "You're one of a kind, Winchester," he finally said before turning and heading back to the house.

John watched him go without saying a word.

Dinner was an unpleasant experience for everyone at the table. Everyone's eyes seemed to move over to John every few seconds. It was obvious the man was still angry with his son and they all knew there was no talking him down from that anger.

Dean mostly kept his eyes on the plate in front of him. He'd taken a few bites, but more than anything, he was just pushing the food around on the plate with his fork. It didn't escape his attention, though, that Pastor Jim had made one of his favorite meals.

Sam kept his eyes mostly on his brother. Normally, he would be talking up a storm, but when his first few attempts to have a conversation with his brother fell flat, he stopped. Instead, he pushed the bowl of mashed potatoes closer to Dean, hoping his brother would see it for the gift it was supposed to be. Sam's face lit up when Dean gave him a small smile.

When they were almost through with dinner, John suddenly stood up from the table. All eyes moved over to him, but the man just threw his napkin down on his plate and grabbed his jacket. "Sam, when you're done eating, go on up and take a bath. Dean, help Jim and Bobby with the dishes. When you're done, grab a shower and then hit the rack. We're moving out in the morning."

Sam and Dean both looked at their father with tear-filled eyes. And Sam immediately started pouting. "I don't wanna leave, Daddy. Pastor Jim was going to help me with my book report."

John glared at his youngest. "We're leaving. Dean, make sure your brother does what he's told."

"Yes, sir," Dean answered quietly.

Without another word, John turned and left the house. Dean stood up and started clearing the dishes off the table.

Author's note: Here you go, y'all. Sorry for the wait. I feel like I should be getting way more writing done since I'm staying home more, but it doesn't seem to be working that way, lol.

I think the next chapter will probably be the last for this story, just so you know. Thank you all so, so much for sticking with me on this. It's definitely been a labor of love and I'm going to miss it when I'm done. And now I need to figure out what I'm going to write next.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. Your comments mean the world to me, truly.