A/N: Spoiler warning – spoilers from "Home", "Faith" and "Shadow", which again make me repeat my claim that these are not my characters, I'm just having a bit of harmless, profit-free fun with them.
Another A/N: Sorry, guys, I've been trying to upload this since Wednesday, but didn't have much luck. Pretend you didn't see this week's episode when you read it, after all, it's set after "Shadow"... Well, anyway, there it is. Enjoy and review!
John Winchester came close to losing his children more than once.
Chapter Nine: The distance – Part Two
"Dad…" there was a long pause, "I know I've left you messages before… I don't even know if you get them…" there was another long pause. "But, I'm with Sam, and we're in Lawrence, and there's something in our old house. I don't know if it's the thing that killed mom or not… but," there was another, longer pause. John could practically see Dean tearing up. He could sure hear it in his voice. "I don't know what to do… So, whatever you're doing, if you could get here…" and another long pause, "Please…" John's heart was breaking at the pleading in his older son's voice. "I need your help, dad…"
He couldn't ignore it. Not this time. Lawrence? God, it was the last place John wanted his son to be in. His sons, he corrected himself. Dean said he was with Sammy. He got in his truck and made such a turn it left skid marks on the road. He floored the gas pedal, knowing he wasn't going to stop until he knew his boys were out of harm's way.
John ran his hands over his face, feeling worse than he had ever felt in his life. Not Sammy, too. He knew that would happen, he knew the demon won't just leave them alone. Dean had the necklace, and John by his side, at least for a couple of years, but Sam was alone. It was probably after him now, not being able to claim his brother. John refused Missouri's offer for a cup of coffee with a slight shake of his head. He doubted his stomach would keep anything down right now.
And those powers she told him about. Little Sammy having some sort of psychic powers… visions… John gritted his teeth. Was that what he had meant all those years ago, when he told him that it did something to him, that there was something wrong? Did that demon give his son psychic powers? And did it do anything like that to Dean, too? John could sense Missouri's eyes on him, but for the time being, she left him alone, allowing him to soak all the information up at his own pace.
And then the phone rang. John looked up as Missouri answered. Something went wrong. She left the house in a hurry, and John watched the familiar Impala driving away from behind the curtain. He paced nervously around Missouri's house, waiting, praying his boys were all right. Wishing he got there in time.
"Mary's spirit… Do you really think she saved the boys?" John asked in a small voice. He'd been thinking about what Missouri told him for hours now.
"I do." Missouri said. She sounded quite sure of herself, but she has been wrong before. John wasn't so sure that it had been Mary. He wished, he wanted to believe that it was Mary, and not that thing that killed her, that saved his sons from the poltergeist, but he couldn't get rid of the doubt. He has been fooled before. His boys have been fooled before.
"John Winchester, I could just slap you!" Missouri burst at him. "Why won't you go talk to your children?" she demanded. John looked at his wedding band. He thought of Mary, and how happy they all were once. In another life, it seemed.
"I want to." He said, "You have no idea how much I want to see 'em." He took a deep breath. "But I can't. Not yet. Not until I know the truth."
The boys left Kansas as quickly as they could. John was grateful for that. It was time to go hunting, and this time, he wasn't going to stop until he got some answers. And he had to find another way to protect Sammy. Another necklace, like the one he gave his oldest. Problem was, it was one of a kind. But since when did that ever stop him?
John got out of the shower, drying himself off with a towel, and finally laid down on the bed. He was exhausted, having barely slept in the last few days. This hunt had been one serious headache from the get go, but finally, it was over. Finally, he could get some sleep. And food. And beer. But first, he just needed to sleep.
He woke up at noon, and cursed himself for it. He was never a slouch, and he wasn't going to start being one now. Eight hours should have been enough. If it wasn't for his growling stomach, he suspected he would have slept on for quite a few hours, but he was starving.
He had three servings at the diner four blocks down from the motel he was staying at. He wasn't sure if the food was really that good, or if being stuck in the dessert in the middle of nowhere, chasing some demon for two whole weeks, contributed to the flavor. He had hoped to get some answers from the demon, but there wasn't time for that. It was kill or be killed. His sons still needed him. There was no time to be killed just yet. It suddenly occurred to him that he hasn't heard from either Sam or Dean in a while. It was time to check his messages, make sure they boys were okay. Make sure they listened to him and stopped trying to find him. They still had no idea what it was he was trying to protect them from, and he still couldn't bring himself to tell them the truth. Truth was they would probably handle it a hell of a lot better than he does.
John returned to his room and changed his clothes to the last of his clean clothes. It was time to do the laundry. Lord knows he put it off long enough. But he would put it off just a little while longer. Digging around in his duffle bag, John fished his cell phone out, turning it on. He had nine messages. Sitting on his bed, he started listening. And then the world ended. His hands shook violently as he listened to the message again.
"Hey dad, it's Sam." Sam's voice sounded strange, strangled. "Uh…you probably won't even get this, but, uh… it's Dean." His son let out a long breath. John's heart raced, even as he listened to it again. "He's sick, and... the doctors say there's nothing they can do." That was it. The moment the world ended. When everything stopped. Dean was dying, and he wasn't there. His son was dying. His baby boy… "Um, but they don't know the things we know, right?" Sam added, trying to sound hopeful. Dear lord, Sammy must be out of his mind worrying about his brother. Dean was the one who took matters into his own hands, not Sammy. Never Sammy. He wouldn't know what to do, where to start… "So, um, don't worry, 'cause I'll do whatever it takes to get him better." Sam said, and John wondered who, exactly, Sam was trying to reassure. Was it his father, or himself? "Alright, just wanted you to know."
John stared at the phone in his hand, and just sat there for a moment. The recording thing said the message was almost two weeks old. Two weeks! Dean had been lying in a hospital bed, dying, all this time, and there John was, wandering around in the desert, trying to catch some demon, who didn't even tell him what he wanted to know! What if it's too late? What if Sammy didn't find a cure? What if John could never make it in time? Make it where? Sam didn't even say where they were! Oh, God, what if Dean was already…
John couldn't breathe. He couldn't think clearly. He sat there, staring at the phone in his hand, for almost fifteen minutes. There was one more message on his voicemail, but John was too scared to listen. Maybe it would say that Dean was okay. That it was all some big mistake and he just needed some antibiotics or something. But what if it didn't? What if it was Sam again, calling to tell his father that his brother was… John couldn't even think about that.
Mustering every last bit of his courage and hope, John listened to the last message on his voicemail.
"Dad..." there was a long pause, but it was enough to bring John to tears. "Look, I'm fine. Sam should never have called you." And that was it. John must have listened to that message about a dozen times. He was fine. Dean was fine. His boy was still alive, and he was fine. But the mountain that landed itself on his chest at hearing Sam's message was still there, and he still couldn't stop his hands from shaking, nor his tears from falling down his cheeks. His son needed him, and he wasn't there.
An hour later, when he finally stopped crying and regained his composure, John listened to Dean's message one more time. Much more carefully this time.
"Dad…" That pause. That long pause. John knew his oldest enough to know that the pauses sometimes said so much more than the actual words. Dean's always had problems expressing himself when it came to anything personal, and it had only gotten worse after Sam left for college. Those walls of his in action. That one percent that made John go crazy with worry. "Look, I'm fine." What else would Dean say? He could be lying on his deathbed, and he would probably still be cracking jokes and flirting with any cute girl with a pulse. But the tone of his voice… It wasn't angry, it wasn't resentful, it wasn't even accusing. Just informative. I'm fine. "Sam should never have called you." And that's it. No goodbye, no 'hope to hear from you soon', no 'I needed you, you son of a bitch, where the hell were you?'. It hurt even more.
John used one of his friends to back-trace his sons' aliases and find out where they were. Or at least, where they had been when Dean was admitted to the hospital. John compared the date the insurance card had been used to the date Sam called him. Three days. Sam had waited three whole days to call him. Why, on Earth, would he do that? And what the hell did Dean mean by saying Sam shouldn't have called? Of course he should have called! He was their father! Sam should have called right away, not wait three days. Not even wait one hour! John quickly did the math in his head. Had Sam called him in time, he would have gotten the message before he had left for the hunt, and not two weeks later!
By the time John got there, there was no sign of his sons. A motel manager confirmed that they had rented a room there for a couple of days, but told John they took off almost two weeks earlier.
Sitting on the bed in his motel room, John stared at the phone in his hand, his finger brushing softly over the 'send' button, but he never pressed it. Dean was all right. He was alive. Did John really want to risk his sons any farther by calling them just to hear the sound of their voices? Was he really that selfish, or was it the right thing to do?
John finished stitching the lacerations on his face and grimaced at the sight reflecting in the mirror. The pleading look Sam gave him, begging him not to go, was embedded in his mind. Dean, saying the boys almost got John killed… First thing out of that boy's mouth was an apology. Dad, I'm sorry, it was a trap. We didn't know... Dear Mary, they still didn't know. The demon was catching up to them, and they still didn't know. They felt guilty for putting John at risk, could you believe that? What was it Dean said, that they were going to use the boys to get to John? John ran his fingers through his short, graying hair. He should have told them, he should have warned them right then and there, but he couldn't.
Seeing Dean take charge like that, it filled John with pride. Dean would take care of his brother. He would always know what to do. John was determined to protect his boys. That was his only purpose now, his only thought. He was going to show that demon that no one messes with a Winchester. No one threatens his children. Even if it meant his own death, John would protect his sons. He will die, but in his final breath, he will know that they are safe.
John walked over to the bed, sitting down heavily. He could have lost them in that warehouse. He could have lost them when the Daevas attacked. But he had trained them well. He allowed himself to lay back, staring at the ceiling.
Yes, John Winchester came very close to losing his sons many times in the past. He knew there must have been many more times when he had nearly lost his boys and never even knew about it. He didn't really want to know. But the look in Sammy's eyes, the way Dean had looked away, distancing himself… The fact that they finally listened and stopped calling him…
Once again, John left his boys to fend for themselves as he tried his best to protect them. But this time, after seeing the looks in their eyes, after all he had learned about his boys and what they had been through in the past few months...
John could still remember fragments of happiness. Dean used to be so different, so chatty and gentle and full of life... So much like his Mary... And there used to be a time when John would stand just outside their room and listen to them tease each other, listen to them laugh and just be boys. But now those boys were grown men, following in his footsteps. And John couldn't help but wonder if somewhere along the line, he hasn't already lost his children.
The End
A/N: I was struggling there at the end a little, I'm not so sure I like it, but now that it's finally over, I can finally take those large John shoes off and go back to hating him. Or maybe, after writing this thing, I can't anymore. Oh, man! So, what did you think? Go ahead, don't be shy. Reviews are always welcome!
