"Aren't you taking the bus?" Benny asked the next day after school.
Dean shook his head and shrugged his book bag on, "I'm going to walk."
Benny looked at him incredulously, "Suit yourself," he said as he headed in the other direction to catch his bus.
Dean frowned as he watched the busses pulling away, and heading in the direction of the bunker. If he kept up the pace his dad wanted him to, he could be home in an hour. Dean knew he could do it, he just didn't want to. He started walking, occasionally picking up the pace for a jog or run.
John had promised to be home for dinner and to help him with his schoolwork, but Dean knew better than to believe it would actually happen. Sure, John was good at keeping his word if he said he would kick his or Sam's butt, but following through with anything important to the boys was never his strength. By Thursday, John hadn't shown up in time for dinner once, even though he promised.
"Want to come over after school? My mom's making chicken pot pie," Benny asked, the invitation, as well as the sleeting rain, convinced Dean and he nodded.
Mrs. Lafitte's chicken pie was the best thing Dean had eaten since Mrs. Butters had been with them. He stopped himself from having a 4th helping even though he probably could have eaten more and Mrs. Lafitte wouldn't have told him, no, but he didn't want to seem too greedy. Benny just chuckled at his friend as he bit into each bite as if it was the best thing in the world.
"Cool it, will you, you're going to make me look bad," Benny teased. Dean just grinned back and groaned a little suggestively over the next bite.
For the next week, this had become Dean's new routine, he rode home with Benny, had dinner, worked on some homework, and then walked the much shorter 1 mile home or sometimes Mrs. Lafitte would give him a ride when she headed into work. The following Friday, that all changed when someone knocked on the door.
Mrs. Lafitte got up when she heard the knock on the door. A moment later John was walking into the kitchen, he turned up the charisma and smiles as he politely declined dinner, stating he was just there to pick up his boy and thank you so very much for inviting him to dinner, being a working single father can be hard and he appreciated her looking out for Dean.
Dean bit his lip and focused on his cleared plate, he was the only one in the room that knew just how furious his dad was right now. John said they had to leave, Dean stood and quickly said his goodbyes, thanking Mrs. Lafitte once again for the meal. John placed his hand on his son's shoulder and led him outside to the truck, to anyone else it would have looked like a kind gesture but Dean could feel the slightly painful squeeze his father was giving him. This wasn't going to be good.
The two miles back to the bunker seemed to take forever. John's knuckles on the wheel were white he was gripping it so tight and Dean didn't dare speak. When they arrived home, Dean had barely climbed out of the truck when his father gripped his upper arm and began leading him inside. Dean tried to squirm out of his father's bruising grip but John's hands easily wrapped around his skinny arm. Dean made a brief mental note not to slack on his training quite so much.
Once inside John propelled Dean into the library with a particularly hard smack that had Dean scampering quickly out of reach of a second. Dean spun around so that he was facing John.
"Over the table, Dean," John ordered as he started to unbuckle his belt.
Dean didn't move, this wasn't fair.
"No."
John froze, "Excuse me? You want to try that again, boy?"
Dean backed further away so he would be out of reach, he shook his head.
"You had a standing order to do your training after school. You disobeyed me, I got home and found you not here, at some stranger's home, I don't think you want to add backtalk to the list, do you?"
Dean swallowed, no he really didn't. The first time he was 14 he wouldn't have dared, it had always been Sam that stood up to John, usually resulting in both of them getting thrashed, but he didn't have to look out for Sam right now.
"You didn't keep your end of it. You were supposed to come home early for dinner. You didn't show, not once," Dean yelled this, his voice was angry with a hint of panic mixed in, "You said you'd be here and you weren't! You got rid of Sam, and Mrs. B, and then you don't even show up!"
John was stunned momentarily and Dean took the opportunity to bolt from the room, he slammed his bedroom door shut, locked it, and pulled the desk in front of the door just to make sure John couldn't follow him in.
Sliding down against the wall, Dean put his head in his arms and began to cry, he couldn't hide in his room forever, sooner or later he'd have to come out and face John, and it was going to be so much worse.
John pounded a couple of times on the door but didn't expend much effort on it. He too knew that eventually Dean would have to come out and he'd deal with his boy then.
I'm sorry for the delay in posting anything. Life has been busy. I also apologize for the short chapter but I wanted to get something out.