-/-/
It wasn't easy for John to do the things he did to his boys.
It tore at him. Destroyed him sometimes. Seeing those big green eyes looking up at him, pleading, silently, begging him to change his mind. Watching small bottom lips quiver in an attempt to hold back tears with every failed attempt of his never-ending demands.
It killed him.
He didn't want to be the man he was, the father he'd forced himself to become. He wanted to be soft and gentle, patient and kind with his children. He wanted to cuddle them and tickle them, hug them and hold their hands. He wanted to be their ear to talk to and their shoulder to cry on. He wanted to be more than what he was.
But he hadn't been that man in a very long time.
It had been so long that he'd forgotten it was even a possibility. That the kind, patient man Mary had once teased as a "softy" had become a rock hard drill sergeant impatient for perfection and unwilling to compromise.
He had to distance himself from that man, the man Mary knew, and from those feelings. He couldn't survive any other way. They couldn't survive.
And John was determined that his children would survive.
Hell, they would do more than survive. John Winchester was gonna make damn sure of it. If he couldn't kill every supernatural bastard that existed, he was gonna make goddam sure that his kids were as safe as they could be, as prepared as they could be and as tough as they needed to be.
It was why he pushed so hard. From the time Dean was a little boy, through all Sammy's tantrums, despite all Adam's trauma, he pushed them. It hurt him to force the boys to practice drills until they cried. His heart broke while he watched them struggle with training, trying to hit targets too far away or tasks he'd deliberately made just a little too hard. There were many, many times that after he pushed them he had to walk away. He had to hide what it cost him: the pain of losing more of who he had once been and who he wanted to be. He had to distance himself from his children and their suffering, reminding himself that everything he was doing was good for them, would help them, would teach them to survive and thrive in the life that was handed to them.
He focused on the outcome. Making them strong, making them smart, teaching them everything he knew and everything he learned. They were going to be better than he was, in every way. They would know everything that was out there in the world. They would be prepared. They could fight to save each other and themselves.
It would all be worth it in the end.
John goddamn hoped so.
-/-/
A/N- Just a short snippet on John to get back into writing! I haven't abandoned this story and have some more chapters and ideas I'm hoping to work on! Hope you liked this little look into John's thoughts and his justification of his actions.