A/N- Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to keep writing! Your words mean so much! I really appreciate it more than you know! I love this little story and I'm so happy to share it and have others enjoy it too. And now for the drama and action, you so deserve. I hope you like it!
Just a Bad Hunt- Part 3
John had been staring at the damn notebook all day. He needed to write something. He had a duty to record the events of the hunt, to pass on the information for other hunters and to keep track for himself, but he couldn't bring himself to find the words. Before the boys even got back from school all he had managed to write was the date.
He picked up his pen, letting it hover lightly over the page, feeling choruses of failure, regret, and shame rolling in his head. Each time he tried to find the words to explain what happened, he relived it. The whole month played out in his mind. He searched every moment wondering if there had been another way, something he had missed, something he could have done differently to avoid the outcome he had been forced into. At each reiteration of the memory, he felt more ashamed of himself. If he were a better hunter, a better man, there would have been a different answer. John felt the familiar sensation of self-loathing settling on him like a wet wool sweater, weighing him down and soaking him to the bone.
He set the pen down forcefully on the table, grabbing the handle of whiskey in its place, topping off his emptying glass. Leaning back in the chair he looked over at his boys, sitting quietly on opposite ends of the motel bed, books and papers spread between them.
He was lucky to have them. They were such good boys, all of them. Dean was courageous and confident, infinitely protective of his brothers. Sam, even with his surly teenage attitude, was so smart and compassionate. Adam was still so young, so broken after his mother's death, but he was recovering and becoming the sensitive, determined young man that would have made Kate proud.
Sam could feel eyes on him and glanced up warily, looking away quickly once he met his father's eye. John knew that sometimes he scared the boys when he drank like this. He never meant to. More often than not he would do this type of drinking at a local dive bar, where he could sit in the corner alone and nurse his broken spirit. But after this hunt, he needed to come back here, needed to see the boys. He needed the comfort of their hugs and the hope of redemption in their eyes.
After a while, Adam forgot his father's quiet presence in the room. He focused on his schoolwork, bouncing back and forth between his actual homework and the Latin translations that Sam had given him. It was getting to be the time of day when he started itching for Dean to come home so they could go outside and train. Although Adam never really minded the studying with Sam, the hours of sitting and racking his brain made him restless. Of course, it never bothered Sam, Sam could study forever.
"Ok, done," he said, handing Sam his Latin paper.
Sam nodded, accepting the paper and glancing at it.
"Let's go get something to eat!" Adam said, tossing his books on the bed.
"We just got back from school Adam. We haven't even been at this for two hours," Sam countered, giving his brother an exasperated look.
"So? I'm starving!" Adam said, hopping up from the bed. "Come on Sam! There's nothing here!"
"Nothing?" Dad interjected from his station at the table, "You boys don't have any food here?" he asked, surprise and concern clear in his voice.
Sam was quiet, hesitant on what he could say that wouldn't start them down a precarious path they couldn't come back from.
"Why hasn't Dean gone to the store?" Dad questioned, standing up with a slight sway and walking over to open the two rickety cabinets over the tiny motel room sink.
Sam silently watched his father open and examine the empty cabinets knowing that the entire contents consisted of two coffee mugs and a handful of ketchup packets.
"Sam?" Dad asked again, shutting the cabinets and turning to further interrogate his sons.
Adam glanced between Dad and Sam, watching Sam's carefully guarded, neutral expression.
"We didn't have any money," Adam supplied, hoping he was sparing his brother.
"What? How?" Dad snapped in angry shock, "What happened to the $300 I left you?"
Adam knew it was coming but still grimaced when Sam couldn't hold in his temper and he exploded, jumping up from the bed and yelling at their father.
"Dad! You've been gone for over a month! How far do you think $300 goes?! Come on! Food? Gas? Rent for the room?"
Dad's face flushed a hot red and Adam's heart began to race.
"Don't you speak to me like that boy," He growled at Sam, clenching his fists at his sides.
"We've been fine Dad," Adam said weakly, trying to lessen the escalating tension between his dad and brother.
"What the hell has your brother been doing?" Dad asked angrily to no one, "He's supposed to be taking care of you boys."
"This isn't Dean's fault," Sam sneered, "Why do you think he got a job?"
"I'm not gonna warn you again, Sam. You watch your damn tone." Dad said, staring down his middle son.
Adam watched as Sam scowled and huffed, but seemed to suddenly take note of his father's clenched fists and rigid stance and straightened up into a silent, calm stare. Adam didn't know how Sam did it. He'd seen full-grown men cower and submit under the gaze of John Winchester, but never Sam.
"I wouldn't leave you boys with nothing." Dad said, unclenching his fists and running a hand over the stubble of his three-day old beard, "Dean's got at least three credit cards he could use. What the hell is wrong with that kid?"
Adam knew exactly what was 'wrong' with Dean. Early in his time with his new family, he'd asked Dean for things: video games to kill time in the car, new shoes, walkie-talkies; stupid frivolous things that he never needed but wouldn't mind having. He'd learned pretty quickly that Dean didn't appreciate his constant asking and soon noticed that Sam never asked for anything at all. When he started paying attention he found that Dean only ever bought food for them and gas for his car. Adam knew the Winchesters weren't living the high life, even when Dad was around, but he also knew that Dean had several fake credit cards. It took some time to get Sam to finally divulge why Dean would ignore the easiest way ever to buy things. It turned out that several years before Adam had joined the family Dean had used one of the fake cards John had left him to buy clothes and school stuff and somehow the situation ended with the police being called about a stolen credit card. Sam was vague on the details, but apparently, Sam and Dean were young enough that police tried to get a hold of John and when they couldn't Child Protective Services was called and the Winchesters had a very close call with becoming part of The System.
Adam could understand Dean's hesitation after that incident. He knew his brother well enough to know that Dean wouldn't have taken that situation lightly and likely vowed never to use a fake card again if there was a chance one of his brothers could get taken away. Although he sympathized with Dean, and damn sure didn't wanna end up in CPS custody, Adam wanted to point out that Dean was 21 now, not a snot-nosed little kid with a credit card. He figured there was a lot less chance of getting caught. Adam wanted to point that out but knew he never would. It would only upset Dean and he'd rather go without than intentionally hurt his brother like that.
So yeah, Adam knew exactly why Dean never used his fake credit cards, but he wasn't about to point all that out to Dad right now.
"We've really been fine Dad," Adam said, trying again to lessen the building tension in the room, "We have lunch at school and Dean always brings home something."
"I'm gonna have a talk with that boy when he gets home," Dad growled, clenching his fists again and looking out the motel room window.
Ice pooled in Adam's stomach with the mention of a 'talk' and he looked over at Sam in desperation. A 'talk' with Dad only meant one thing.
"No…No, Dad I don't think you need to do that," Sam stepped in, his voice calm but tentative.
"Yeah Dad," Adam said, "It's really not a big deal."
"Not a big deal?" Dad exclaimed suddenly, spinning around to face his younger sons, his face ruddy with a building rage, "Your brother is an adult and more than that he's responsible for you two when I'm not able to be here. What the hell was he thinking? He needs to get his head out of his ass and take some responsibility!"
Adam watched as Sam prepared to yell back in retaliation, but his brother seemed to catch himself and stopped short taking a quick breath before answering calmly, "He does Dad, he really does. Dean is very responsible."
"Doesn't damn well seem like it, leaving you two here to starve!" Dad shot back with a sneer.
"We aren't starving Dad!" Adam said quickly, trying to backtrack.
"You just said you were Adam," Dad said.
"I was just joking around Dad, really. I'm fine, just tired of studying, it's boring," he said hurriedly.
"Boring?" Dad snapped, glaring at his youngest.
Sam flicked his eyes at Adam. 'Shit' Adam thought, 'That was the wrong thing to say.'
"Not…not boring," Adam said backpedaling again, "It's just long and uh you know…"
Dad was staring at him irritably, waiting for Adam to get his foot out of his mouth.
"How are those exorcisms coming along?" Dad asked suddenly, his voice low and serious.
Adam bit the inside of his lip in unease. Before Dad left last month, Adam had been told to memorize three long Latin exorcisms as part of his studies on demons. He'd been working on them, but only half-heartedly if he was being honest. Latin was boring and memorizing paragraph after paragraph of words that barely made any sense was miserable. He'd much rather be reading ghost stories with Sam or practicing knife throwing with Dean.
"Good! It's going good." Adam lied hastily.
Dad stood stoically, appraising him, suspicion written all over his face.
"Let's hear it then," he demanded.
"Now?" Adam squeaked in surprise.
Dad just glared back.
"Oh yeah… sure…" Adam said, clearing his throat and trying to remember the first few lines of the main exorcism.
"Exorcizamus te, ah... omnis… i-immundus sprititus…uh…omnis…uh... satanica…"Adam stuttered out, flushing with embarrassment and shame.
"Christ! Is Sam teaching you anything?" Dad snarled furiously.
"He is!" Adam shot back immediately, rushing to his brother's defense.
"He knows this stuff Dad," Sam said stepping in, "He just gets nervous when you put him on the spot."
"He needs to get the hell over that," Dad mumbled, staring at his youngest.
Sam glared at his father angrily. He knew this interrogation would go on until Dad found something to pounce on, something he could exploit and use as an excuse to throw a punch. It was like a verbal minefield, every word could trigger the explosion and Adam was too inexperienced to be able to get himself out of it.
"And your pronunciation is shit," Dad said, turning back around to grab the whiskey bottle off the motel table.
"Well it's a dead language, " Adam replied sarcastically, his hackles rising at being demeaned and embarrassed.
Dad spun back around, wavering slightly with the quick movement, glaring at Adam.
"Excuse me?" he said, thud echoing in the room as he set the whiskey bottle back on the table behind him.
Adam's annoyance evaporated immediately as he noticed the dangerous tone in his father's voice. He'd heard it before, aimed at his older brothers and he realized too late should've kept his mouth shut.
"Are you disrespecting me boy?" John said, taking a small but menacing step toward the 12-year-old.
"N-N-No Sir," Adam replied quickly, hating the waiver in his voice.
Adam moved closer to Sam, who had taken a step towards his younger brother and was now poised slightly in front of Adam, his entire 16-year-old lanky frame strumming with tension.
"You know I don't tolerate disrespect," Dad growled, from across the room.
Adam nodded vigorously in agreement, hoping that he could placate the man and get out of his sight.
"Can't hear your head rattle, boy," John said, eyeing him.
"Yes sir, I know." Adam voiced meekly.
Sam stayed positioned in front of Adam, waiting for the next turn of the conversation. Dad would either go back to the bottle and let Adam's teenage insolence slide or he'd begin the quiz again and keep laying traps for the kid to fall into.
'God, why couldn't you just go to a bar?' Sam thought to himself. Sam was not unfamiliar with this level of John Winchester drunkenness, but picking Dad up off the floor of a dive bar at 3 am was so much easier than going head to head with him in this state. At least at the bar, he'd find any number of people willing to provoke him into a semi-justifiable fight. Here, he was rooting around for a problem, some tiny semblance of disobedience that he could take advantage of.
"Hunting is serious." Dad ground out, glaring at Adam, "Exorcisms are serious. You need to know this shit. You understand me boy?"
"Uh-huh, Yes sir," Adam replied nodding again quickly.
"You have to know this shit inside and out! You have to know every part of the lore, be willing to work to find the answer! If you get lazy, if you give up, people die!" he yelled.
"Dad. I know," Adam said, his stomach churning in apprehension, "You say that all the time."
"Do you know what I mean when I say 'people die' Adam? Do you realize that one day you could be responsible for ending someone's life? That their blood will literally be on your hands?" Dad questioned darkly, slowly walking over to the boys who were standing as still as stone.
"If you don't learn everything you can about hunting you can count on it. You can count on having to kill not only monsters but people. People who you can't save and people who can't live."
"Jesus Dad." Sam whispered from beside him, "What happened on the hunt?"
John was silent then, ignoring Sam's question and staring down at Adam, not seeing the face of his son, but the face of the boy from the hunt. The boy before he'd turned before John had to do what he did.
Tears of shame and regret welled up in his eyes, burning them.
"Dad?" Sam whispered again, reaching out tentatively to put a comforting hand on his father's arm, "It was just a bad hunt. You can't save everyone."
As he felt Sam's gentle touch on his forearm, something inside John broke. He could feel the visceral snap of the rubber band in his ribcage that was holding in all the hurt, pain, humiliation and disgrace that had been building since the hunt. He backhanded Sam on instinct; watching from outside himself as his son's head was thrown violently to the side and he stumbled, nearly falling back onto the dingy motel room carpet.
His emotions blinded him and John saw himself reaching out and grabbing a fist full of Adam's shirt, landing solid smack to the boy's right cheek and shaking him hard enough that he heard the kid's teeth click together. 'Why!?' His brain yelled, 'I tried!'
Sam was on him in an instant, clawing at the fist John had wrapped in Adam's thin t-shirt, trying to free his younger brother. A hot pulse of anger burst through John's chest and he let Adam go with a shove, sending the boy flying backward into one of the room's double beds and in the same motion, turned and threw a sharp right hook into Sam's cheek, sending him shooting sideways.
The power of the blow shocked John as much as it did his sons, who were now each sitting motionless on the floor, their chests rising and falling rapidly, warily watching their father. John could feel the rage still burning in his veins, mixing with the whiskey in his gut, creating a white-hot frenzy that he fought to control.
He watched distantly, feeling disconnected from his own body, as Sam stood up slowly from the floor, dusting himself off and working his jaw loose from the pain that was still radiating. Sam walked over to Adam, putting a hand down to help his brother up before turning to directly face John, a dark and dangerous look in his young eyes.
"You know what? Fuck it. Come on old man." Sam said brazenly.
"Excuse me, boy?" John questioned, not sure he believed what he just heard. He was sure that none of his sons were stupid enough to challenge him outright, to experiment with his ability to hand out a smackdown.
"You heard me," Sam pressed on, chest puffed out and head held high, "Come on. You wanna fight? Let's go!" he challenged again, stepping away from Adam and into the middle of the hotel room.
"I don't know what you think-" John started.
"I know what I think," Sam spat out viciously, his voice thick with disgust, "I think someone got hurt, maybe killed on the hunt. I think you hate yourself for it and you won't be able to get past it until you put your fist through someone's teeth. So come on."
"You shut the hell up boy," John snarled back dangerously, feeling the burn of rage in his chest sending adrenaline shooting through his body, making his arms tingle with restrained fury.
"No Dad!" Sam shouted back "Why not? You already hit Adam. You afraid of someone who might fight back?"
Suddenly the figures before him were a blur and Adam found himself thrown backward again this time landing hard against the corner of the motel room dresser. In one extended graceful movement, Sam had managed to push Adam back, further away from Dad and the explosion of violence, while evading the first powerful punch that was headed his way.
Sam dodged and ducked under John's swing, coming up with a formidable punch of his own that landed solidly in John's stomach, causing Dad to let out a grunt of surprise and pain. Adam watched in shock as he scrambled up from where he had fallen on the floor, ignoring the shooting pain between his shoulder blades. Sam seemed similarly stunned that he was able to so easily land the blow and he hesitated slightly, the fury that was billowing off him lapsing.
Sam surprised himself. He never knew that he would actually hit his father if given a chance. Oh, he'd fantasized about it plenty of times, sure. Every time Dad scowled at him or talked down to Dean or belittled Adam. Sam wanted to punch the five o'clock shadow right of Dad's overbearing 'need to know' face. But he'd never imaged he'd do it. It was a gut reaction. He'd made the challenge. He couldn't stop himself. He could only tolerate Dad's drunken bullshit for so long before he snapped.
The fleeting moment of Sam's hesitation was all John needed to gain back the upper hand. With a startling swiftness, he reached out, grabbing Sam by the upper arm and yanking him hard, causing Sam to cry out and crumble in his hold. The next movement was a hard punch that knocked the wind out of his son, causing Sam to fold in on himself, gasping.
Sam's gasps for air startled Adam into movement and he flew into motion, rushing his father aiming to knock him off balance like Dean had taught him. Adam knew he was small, but he hoped he could surprise Dad enough that he'd let Sam loose.
Adam hit hard, low around his father's hips, causing John to take a slightly stumbled step to the side. Sam twisted in John's grip using the stumble to fight to get free, lining up a hard kick to Dad's shin, causing Dad to swear loudly and loosen his hold. Sam pulled free but was only able to get half a step away before Dad reached out, grabbing a fist full of his hair, twisting and pulling Sam back toward him.
With Sam in one hand and using the other to grab Adam by the scruff of the neck he
knocked both boy's heads together with a resounding crack that echoed in the tiny room.
Adam immediately saw stars and couldn't focus, his head throbbing and spinning, ears ringing loudly the sound and the pain so fierce he wanted to throw up.
When his vision finally cleared, he realized his father's hand was still fisted in the hair at the nape of his neck, gripping him tightly. Hesitantly, Adam looked at his father, finding a strange look on Dad's face. All the rage was gone. Tears were welling up in his eyes and his bottom lip was quivering just slightly, and Adam could see the despair washing over him.
Suddenly the hand in his hair was gone and Adam was pulled into a crushing hug, his face squeezed hard against the buttons of his father's flannel shirt, his brother squished in tightly beside him. Adam could feel, rather than hear, the sobs that were wracking Dad's body and decided to keep completely motionless unsure of what the hell was going on. His head was throbbing, there was a shooting pain coming from between his shoulder blades and his cheek was still stinging and but he was too afraid to pull away from the discomfort of Dad's arms. Tentatively moving his free right hand, he reached for Sam, brushing his fingers against his brother's wondering Sam could telepath what they should do.
Suddenly John collapsed, pulling both boys down with him, his hold on them never wavering. He clung to them, squeezing them tightly as if they were the tiny toddlers who used to climb up in his lap and ask for stories, not the long-limbed growing teenagers who'd nearly bested him in a fight. He kept their faces hidden, pressed to his chest, not wanting them to see his weakness, the tears silently streaming down his face, not ready to see the damaged he had caused.
The three stayed frozen on the floor until John steadied himself, regaining a tenuous hold on his emotions. Releasing his sons from his arms slowly, he didn't miss how they fled the second they could. How they scrambled back and away from him as if he was a monster to be feared, not a father to be loved.
Sam had his arm out and around Adam the moment he was free, pulling his younger brother back and behind him, just in case. Sam knew the fight was over. Whatever Dad needed to get out was gone, but he was wary.
"My boys," Dad whispered his eyes filling with renewed tears as he looked at their faces, seeing the bruises he had caused rising.
Sam and Adam were silent, still sitting on the floor backs pressed hard against the motel bed, waiting for Dad's next move.
"My sweet boys," Dad whispered wretchedly, staring at them, the words sounding almost like an apology.
Neither boy moved or said a word, still waiting to see what their father's next move would be.
John took a deep breath, determined to get back in control. Clearing his throat loudly he stood up shakily from the floor, straightening his crumbled flannel shirt.
"I.. uh. I'm gonna get you boys some ice," he said, his eyes only briefly resting on their uncertain faces. He turned then, grateful not to have to look at them and moved quickly out the door, hopeful that by the time he returned the look of fear and resentment would have faded from their eyes.
As soon as the door closed Sam moved his arm from around Adam's shoulder, turning his younger brother to face him.
"Are you ok?" he asked, searching Adam's face for signs of any more severe trauma that he may have missed.
"I'm ok," Adam said, nodding slightly and moving a hand up to touch the tender spot on the side of his forehead where he and Sam and hit. "My head freaking hurts,"
Sam sighed, "Yeah me too," he said rubbing the throbbing pain in his temple.
"You sure you're ok Sam?" Adam asked, looking up at his brother curiously.
"Yeah, I'll be fine," Sam said, brushing Adam off and standing up, reaching down to pull his brother up as well. "Let's get some aspirin."
All too soon Dad was back from getting ice, his guilt and regret over the afternoon abundantly and awkwardly clear. For the next hour, Adam watched as Dad fussed over them, in the most Dad-like way possible. Creating cool towels with melting ice in them, which he insisted they hold on their heads, even though neither brother wanted it. Offering them some of the 'good' pain meds and even telling them to take the afternoon off from studying while he ordered a pizza for dinner. The whole thing just made Adam uncomfortable.
After the pizza arrived Dad finally seem satisfied with his efforts and sat down on the bed to finish off the bottle of whiskey that he had discarded earlier.
Adam kept a wary eye on his father as he and Sam sat on the other bed, disinterestedly eating the pizza Dad got them and watching reruns of Knight Rider on the motel's crappy tv. By the time their portion of the pizza was gone, Dad was passed out and snoring and Adam breathed a sigh of relief.
Sam heard his sigh and gave his little brother a half-hearted smile, sliding over on the bed, making room against the headboard where he was sitting and giving Adam a nod to come sit beside him. Adam returned the weak smile and moved from the end of the bed, scooting up closer to his brother, trying not to think about the fact that he was almost 13 and shouldn't be cuddling anymore and that Dean would probably make fun of him for it. He didn't even care. He needed it after this afternoon. He just wanted to feel quiet and safe for a little while, even if it did make him look like a baby.
When Dean came home an hour later Adam and Sam were still laying on the bed, slumped against their collective mound of pillows, the open pizza box on the bed between them, Dad snoring and grumbling on the other bed.
"I'm back and I brought pie!" Dean said happily, stepping into the room and raising his bag of takeout and pie triumphantly. Dean was having a good day, not only did he bring home pie, but also the hot cashier's phone number and with any luck, he'd be seeing her tonight after Adam's training session, definitely a good day in his book.
Instantly sensing the weight in the room, however, Dean tensed, scanning his family for the cause of the uneasiness. He crossed the room in two long strides, coming to stand beside Sam as he and Adam sat up, Adam wincing with the movement
"What the hell?" Dean declared, "What happened? Are you ok?" he said taking Sam's chin in hand and gently tilting his brother's head to examine the purple bruising lining his jaw.
"Yeah," Sam mumbled, letting Dean turn his head and examine him, softly touching just under his eye where Sam knew another bruise had bloomed.
"What happened?" Dean asked again, leaning over to gently brush Adam's hair from his forehead, studying his youngest brother.
"Bad hunt," Sam answered simply, staring at Dean in a way that Adam understood meant more than what was said.
"You gotta be fucking kidding me," Dean growled.
"He was already drunk when we got home from school." Adam offered, making Dean scowl as he examined Adam's face.
"You hurt anywhere else kid?" Dean asked.
Adam shrugged, feeling the ache between his shoulders again but not wanting to seem weak in front of Dean.
"It's ok Adam," Sam assured.
"Nah, I'm ok," Adam said, deciding that whatever big ass bruise he had on his back wasn't worth bothering Dean about.
Dean nodded tightly, a frown etched deeply on his face.
"Sam?" he asked, turning to face his middle brother.
"I'm alright. Just sore." He admitted.
"Fuck," Dean said, shaking his head in disbelief. "What the hell."
Dean sat down heavily on the bed next to his brothers, putting his head in his hands and rubbing his head roughly.
"Shit guys. I'm sorry. I should have been here." He said, not looking at them.
"It's not your fault Dean," Sam said softly.
"I messed up the exorcism," Adam confessed sadly.
"What?" Dean said confused, sitting up and turning to look back at him.
"I messed it up. Dad wanted me to recite the exorcisms I was supposed to learn while he was gone and I couldn't." Adam said, guilt churning in his stomach as he looked away from his older brother's incredulous stare. "I should have studied better. I'm so stupid."
"Adam." Sam said, his tone firm enough to cause Adam to look up at him, "This was not your fault. It had nothing to do with you. Dad had a bad hunt. That's all. We were just in the cross-fire."
Dean nodded, "Look squirt, this one ain't on you ok?"
Adam just stared at his brothers, not convinced that he wasn't the tipping point of the whole mess. If he had just studied harder and been able to recite the stupid exorcisms Dad wouldn't have flown off the handle. If he had kept his big stupid mouth shut about being hungry, none of this would have ever happened.
Dean sighed again, standing up from the bed.
"You guys need anything? Pain meds? Dinner?"
Sam shook his head, "Nah. Dad guilt fed us before he passed out."
Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head, walking back over to the motel room table where he had set down the food he'd brought home.
"Well I brought home burgers if you get hungry," he said, taking out a burger and sitting down in the chair, "What's on?" he said with a nod to the television set.
Hours later Sam and Adam had gone to bed, but Dean was still awake. Sitting on the bed next to his father, staring down at the man as he grumbled and snored in a drunken sleep.
'What the fuck is wrong with you old man?' he thought to himself.
Dad's 'bad hunts' didn't happen often. In fact, Dean was probably around Adam's age the last time that Dad had come home so damaged. But even with it being so long ago the memory was vivid; the fists flying, being thrown into walls, pushing Sam into the bathroom. Dean's pulse raced with the remembered fear, the fear Dad might not stop this time.
"De- Dean?"
Dean was shaken from his thoughts by the garbled mumbling from beside him.
"Yeah Dad?" he replied in a quiet whisper, not wanting to wake his brothers.
"Dean. Oh, Dean. It was so bad." Dad mumbled weakly, not quite awake and still very drunk.
"I know Dad, " Dean consoled calmly, "I know."
"I tried. I did." Dad continued on, slurring, "Oh Dean, he was so young… so young."
Normally Dean never needed to know what happened on a hunt. Dad's simple explanations were enough and he never felt the need to press for more. But this time he couldn't help it, he wanted to know, needed to know, what could have made Dad lose it so badly, especially when he wasn't here to protect his brothers.
"Dad? What happened?" Dean asked softly.
"Oh Dean," Dad said, slurring and beginning to sob, "I had to Dean. I looked and I waited. I tried. I tried everything. But I had to. Dean, I had to. I couldn't let him turn," Dad said, tears beginning to stream down his face.
Seeing his father cry, Dean felt his chest tighten and he regretted ever asking. There were some things he didn't need to know, things he didn't need to see and his father crying into his pillow was one of them.
"Dad, its ok. Its ok," Dean soothed, gently rubbing Dad's shoulder hoping he'd stop crying and fall back asleep. "You're ok,"
Eventually, Dad fell back asleep, still crying but at least quietly, and Dean was grateful for the peace. He loved his Dad. The man had been through some serious shit and kept coming out on the other side alive and fighting. There were so many ways that Dean idolized his father. He knew it. He was ok with being 'daddy's little soldier', but there were times, times like these when he saw the fallout from too much trauma and it made Dean a little fearful of hunting. He'd never admit it. He'd never say it out loud. But he wondered if he too would end up traumatized, disturbed and desensitized to the violence of his world. Would he end up drinking away his memories in hopes of living with his present? Would he find himself demanding more from himself, from his family then was possible? Was this his future? And if it was, was that ok?
Dean sat in the dark, awake and alone for a long time, thinking about his father and their lives, before deciding that he was just thinking too much. 'Too much like Sam.' He scoffed, making himself get up to brush his teeth, shrugging off the weighty thoughts like an old itchy blanket.