As Dark Clouds Loom – March 2005
Timeline: This story takes place over the spring and summer of 2005, right before the pilot episode (which takes place in October 2005). Sam is away at school and the rest of the Winchesters are on the road. Adam is 17 years old.
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Somehow it reminded him of a summer storm. The kinda thing you only notice because the light around you seems to change a little. You look over your shoulder to discover clouds building in the distance, rising and darkening as they fill with heat and pressure. The wind suddenly kicks up and blows with a chill that brings goosebumps up on your arms. You can see distant flashes of lightning and hear low rumbles of far away thunder and you think to yourself 'well…time to go'.
Adam could feel a storm rising around his small family, specifically around his father. He didn't know why, he couldn't piece together the details of exactly what was happening, but he could feel the change, some unsettling feeling that something was coming. Coming for them.
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"Thank you, ma'am. Appreciate it," John said into the phone, forcing a smile into his voice, "The entire Department of Agriculture will benefit from this information. If you hear of any other large scale crop failures in the area, you've got my number,"
He shuffled papers on the hood of the impala, pulling out a pad of yellow lined paper.
"Uh-huh, alright then," he said, quickly scribbling down the crop information the woman had shared, "Yes, thank you again," he said flipping the phone closed and hanging up the call.
He reread the note he'd taken, distantly aware of the sounds of his sons' play fighting in the background behind him. Another crop failure, another storm surge and fresh reports of cattle deaths.
John took a breath, trying to calm himself as his pulse quickened. He pulled his hunter's journal out from the stack of paper and flipped to the section he'd been working on, copying down the new information.
Demons.
He'd been working on identifying the pattern of demonic omens for years. At this point, he just about had it down to a science. Twenty years of meticulous research had given him the knowledge to identify and sometimes predict demon appearances.
He pulled out a map from the back of his journal, unfolding it and flatting it against the gleaming hood of the car. Checking the latitude and longitude that he'd received over the phone, he saw it matched the area he'd predicted months ago.
Shit.
The demonic manifestations were happening more and more frequently. In a normal year he heard about 3 maybe 4 possessions the entire year. This year, if his calculations were right, there had been 19 that he knew of. And it was only March.
John scratched at 5 o'clock shadow covering his cheek. Demons were evil little bastards, but they were usually only around making deals for souls. Something had to be happening for so many to come topside so quickly.
"Ow! Damn Dean!"
John turned to look behind him into the small grassy field that his sons were in, circling each other in the side of the road sparring match John had set them on.
"Gotcha kid!" Dean laughed, stepping back and sweeping his arms out wide in victory, a teasing grin on his face.
"Cheap shot!" Adam barked indignantly.
John wished he could have smiled at the boys and their lighthearted teasing, but his heart wasn't in it. His stomach was churning with anxiety over his latest discovery and the awareness that he only had two of his boys in front of him to watch over. As soon as he got Dean and Adam settled in Texas, he was heading to California. Sam would never know, but John wouldn't be able to rest until he laid eyes on his middle son.
He worried and feared for all his sons, but Sam most of all now. He told himself it was because Sam had left the nest, that he was out from under John's watchful eye and that's why John felt so uneasy. He tried to forget the horrible thoughts that had crossed his mind as he learned more about demons, more about the deals, more about the history of his beloved wife and her family. Twenty years of research and every detail he discovered troubled him more and more.
"Alright, bring it on short stuff!" Dean called to his youngest brother and John was pulled from his musings to watch as Adam ran full tilt at his brother, grabbing him around the waist, only to be grabbed and thrown into the dirt as Dean used his momentum against him.
"Umph!" Adam huffed as he landed on his butt in the dirt, "Damn it!" he yelled, smacking the ground with an open fist of frustration.
Dean laughed putting up his arms, posing and flexing to show his muscle, "The master!" he teased.
John watched the boys with a heavy heart, worrying for Adam. The kid was 17 now and while he'd come along way in his hunter training, he was nowhere near as skilled as his brothers had been at his age.
What was going to happen to Adam? John's throat seized at the thought. He'd been tough on Sam and Dean their entire lives, pushing them, training them, demanding nothing less than perfection. Sam and Dean would survive when John was gone. They could take it. They would make it.
Adam?
John cursed himself. Adam's unstable future was his fault. He would willingly take credit for every terrible thing in his sons' lives but he regretted Adam's most of all. He had selfishly brought Adam into this world when he knew better. Before, with Dean and Sam, he was ignorant of the evil that lurked in the world. But with Adam, with Kate, he knew. And he did it anyway. He let her keep the baby, he let her raise Adam, carelessly thinking that the evil he chased would never follow him there. Selfish stupid bastard. He deserved whatever hell was waiting for him.
John pinched the bridge of his nose, trying in vain to ease the headache that was blooming behind his eyes. They'd been on the road for 6 hours so far today and John hadn't slept the night before, checking and doubling checking his analysis of demonic premonitions. The more demon shit he saw, the less he could sleep.
Something was coming.
He was prepared. As prepared as he could be, but it wasn't just about him. The boys had to be ready.
John walked a fine line with his sons, one he feared would bite him in the ass one day. He needed them to be equipped to handle the evil that likely awaited them, but he never wanted them to go looking for the fight. It was why he'd never shared his demon research with them. John knew without a shadow of a doubt that if Dean or Sam knew for certain that a demon had killed Mary, they would throw themselves into a battle they weren't ready for. Hell, when John had first figured out that demons were at the root of the greatest tragedy of his life, he'd nearly gotten himself killed trying to go after the SOBs.
His face flushed at the remembered humiliation, when the demon cornered him, teased him about his love and how little he really knew about her.
Sam had just started kindergarten and with both boys in school John finally had the time he so desperately needed to focus on his mission. Before that, just generally raising the boys took up nearly all his time. But with the school hours, John found a deep and intensive focus. By the time Sam was in second grade he'd established the demon pattern he still used today and when before Sam was out of grade school he'd used it to corner a demon, determined to get information.
Of course, it didn't go as John had planned. He was ashamed of himself for it. How easily the thing got the drop on him. How it teased him, mocked him and his quest for vengeance. He was lucky that Bobby had given him the exorcism, lucky that he had it memorized, and luckier still that the demon hadn't expected John to know it. It was the only way he'd survived.
After that experience, he knew he had to play the long game. He researched Mary's family, her past, her parents. There were times that it nearly broke him to learn all the things she'd never shared. The hunting history, the reason her parents died. John was no idiot. He could do the math. Sam was born 10 years to the day that Mary's parents died.
He knew the demons were smart, but as his encounter with the first had shown him, they were likely to underestimate him. That was fine. That he could use.
So he worked. He put his head down and trained his sons. They knew of demons, yes, but only as another supernatural thing that existed that needed to be extinguished. They didn't need to know how deeply their family was entwined with the bastards. He taught them exorcisms, just like he taught them how to create salt gun shells for battling ghosts and what blade to use to take down ghouls. John's boys needed to be well versed in everything, just in case. Because while the demon fight was his own, one he understood he might not come out of alive, he needed to leave his sons prepared to live in a supernatural world without him.
But that was never going to happen if they didn't shape up, John thought his exhaustion fueling his frustration while he watched Adam swing a wild punch at his brother.
"Adam!" he yelled, slamming his journal down on the hood of the Impala.
Both boys startled at his call and Dean's carefree grin vanished.
"What have I told you about your fighting stance boy?" he yelled, stomping over to them.
Adam didn't reply and John could see him bite the inside of his cheek to hold in a disrespectful response.
John trudged over coming to stand behind Adam to adjust his stance.
"Fists up!" he said, grabbing Adam's arms from behind, roughly positioning them as if the boy were a loose marionette doll, "Feet Apart!" he barked, kicking his son's legs wider into a stance that wouldn't get him knocked on his ass at the first hit.
Adam faulted at the rough handling trying to keep his balance and John could feel Dean's eyes on him. The boy better not say a word, John thought. Adam had to learn. He had to step up.
"Eyes on the target," he growled, grabbing the back of Adam's head and forcing him to look up at Dean rather than at his feet where he had been staring.
"Do it right," John said, intending to rustle Adam's hair to take the edge off his tone, but somehow shoving the kid's head forward instead, making Adam duck away from him.
John brushed off the discomfort the move gave him and walked away so that he was standing between both boys, "I want you both to get serious. Now."
"Yes sir," he heard whispered in low tones as he watched them both take a breath and square up against each other.
John crossed his arms and waited. He hadn't intended for this little pit stop to become a full-blown training session, but now that he was seeing Adam's shortcomings first hand he couldn't let it go.
"Go." He ordered.
Adam took off again charging his brother aiming at Dean's lower waist. A moved he'd already tried and failed at, making John grit his teeth in frustration. Adam had no more than touched Dean then his brother had him pinned.
"Get out from under him Adam!" John encouraged, knowing there was little use in the statement. Dean held the offensive and with the expert way he'd pinned Adam's arms,, there was little likelihood that Adam would get free. Dean was going easy on the kid though John could see that. He'd slowed his move, given Adam an out before he spun and dropped him and yet the kid completely missed the opportunity. Even now John could see that Dean was using one leg to balance himself while pining his brother, keeping most of his weight off his brother's chest.
Adam struggled under his brother, getting equally frustrated and embarrassed.
"Off Dean," John ordered, putting an end to Adam's struggle as Dean bounced off him with ease, putting a hand out to help his little brother up.
"Go again," John demanded.
Adam's eyes flashed at him, a look that was all Sam Winchester rage, and John held his stare waiting to be challenged. Adam said nothing though, just huffed and turned back to Dean, stretching out an ache in his shoulders.
They squared off again and this time Dean made the first move, taking a step and making a wildly over-exaggerated punch toward Adam, giving his brother another chance, which thankfully the kid took and dodged easily. The move infuriated John though. Dean was making it too easy. Is this how he taught Adam when John wasn't around? No wonder the kid couldn't fight for shit. Dean did pull this shit with Sammy? John tried to remember. Dean and Sam had sparred since they were little kids, tiny little things going at it in motel room and playgrounds. John had always encouraged Dean to go easy on Sam when he was young, but by the time Sam was Adam's age, he could hold his own and John had instructed Dean not to hold back anymore. They both need to feel a real fight to know how to win it.
"Dammit, Dean." John yelled, "I saw that!"
Dean didn't acknowledge John's criticism, but he knew he'd been heard by the tightening of his son's shoulders.
Adam was never gonna learn technique with this kind of coddling.
The boys were back to circling each other, irritating John with their dawdling.
"Make a move Adam!" he chided and if on reflex Adam swung a right hook that Dean easily dodged, stepping back and away.
"Jesus." John sighed.
"Stop," he called, and both boys froze and turned to look at him, "Adam come here."
Adam slowly trudged over to him, a scowl across his young face.
"What are you doing?" John asked, reaching out grabbing Adam's shoulder rougher than he meant to.
"What do you mean?" Adam asked, looking up at him in confusion.
"I mean what you are doing? When you stand across from your brother, ready to fight, what is your plan of attack?" he questioned, keeping his hand firmly planted on Adam's shoulder.
"Um. I mean…I don't know. I'm just trying to hit him," Adam stammered, looking uncomfortable under John's demanding gaze.
"Adam…" John admonished, trying to contain his frustration with his son.
"Look, Dad! I'm trying," Adam snapped, brushing John's hand off his shoulder.
John leveled him with a stare.
"I just… I mean…" he mumbled, apologetically, "Dean's just better than me,"
John didn't have the time or patience for a teenage pity party right now and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to shake his son.
"You can do this Adam," he replied calmly but firmly, "You've been training for years. You know how to fight. You know the moves. Now you need to use your head. Think."
John gently took Adam's chin in his hand, forcing his son to meet his eye, "You have to use your body and your mind. Most of the time you're gonna be outmatched in a fight, that's just the truth. You're gonna go up against things that are bigger, stronger, more powerful than you,"
"Hell of a pep talk, Dad," Adam deadpanned, giving John a weak attempt at a smirk.
"I think you know how serious I am about this," John replied as Adam's face fell. "You have to be ready. Ready to fight. Be willing to fight for your life. For your brothers' lives."
Adam nodded and was quiet for a moment, "I want to do that Dad…I…do," he replied hesitantly, "I'll do better."
"Damn right you will," John said seriously.
John tried not to notice how the color left his son's face at his words.
"You can do this son," He said trying to be as warm and comforting as he could manage with frustration still strumming under his skin.
"Yeah," he said finally, softly, as he shook off John's hand and pulled away, turning back to his brother.
John watched as Adam made his way back to Dean and they both prepared themselves for the next round. He'd have to talk to Dean about Adam's training, let him know it was time to stop pulling punches. Adam was old enough, trained enough. He needed to feel the real fight. John wouldn't be sure that Dean would do it though, the kid was always a softy when it came to his brothers, but he'd take John's words to heart and push Adam more seriously and John could be satisfied with that. He'd just have to make time to train one on one with Adam when he got back from checking on Sam.
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A/N- You guys have seriously inspired me! Thank you so much for all the amazingly kind words and reviews! I'm so excited to get back to this story and creating new chapters for our guys.