Disclaimer: Sam and Dean tell me they sold their souls to WB, who in turn sold them to CW. In other words, I own nada, except Jonathan "Jack" Winchester Jr.
This is un-beta'd because I could NOT find a good beta reader. Anyone up for the task?
This starts off with the murder of Mary and pre-pilot and then goes on to season finale. So if you haven't seen the pilot or Devil's Trap, you may not want to read this.
I guess with me, it started the day mom died. I was two, clutching big brother Dean's hand, not really sure what all was going on. He was holding onto Sam, telling him it would be alright. But even at 2, I think I knew the awful truth. It wasn't going to be alright. Something bad had happened.
Then dad came out in a burst of flames, grabbing us, rushing us away just as the flames burst from Sammy's window.
I can't really recall much else. I know the firemen came, I remember them looking at me sadly. I remember dad sitting on the impala, looking like he had died. I remember him kissing Sam's head. I remember asking where mom was. I remember dad's eyes, the blackness within.
I still have dreams where I can almost see mom's face. Or I think I can. She never looks quite like the photos I've seen. It just the little details, you know? I can't remember whether her eyes were green or blue, for instance.
When I was five, I tried to stop remembering.
Dean and I never really got on as we once had after that. I was always the quiet one in the family, the listener rather than the talker. For the three years after mom's death, at most I had probably spoken three words.
Maybe that's why Dean felt he had to protect me as well as Sam.
But when I was five, I started talking more. Not a lot more, but enough to be heard. And Dean began to worry more about Sam.
I guess it was because I felt that I had to look after my family as well. I listened to Sam when he wanted to talk, which became more and more often. I was always at my brother's side, speed and agility to his strength.
My father was another matter.
John and I stopped calling one another dad and son when I was fifteen. That year was the breaking point. I didn't want to be John or Junior or Johnny anymore. I started to call myself Jack, started to shut the door whenever dad was there, only coming out when he was too injured to fix himself up.
I became pretty good at that. Especially when I was 17.
When one of the high schools offered a paramedic training course with college credit, I took it. I had good enough grades, though I wasn't half as smart as Sam but I wasn't a C or D student like Dean had been. I was a B student at best, C+ at worst.
Of course this was done in secret. Though it was probably far more useful than John ever knew, saving us multiple trips to the ER.
I started taking anatomy and physiology for my high school sciences. I took another college credit in sports medicine and got into their health programs. My professors even found me ways to get the books or the medical supplies I needed. Sure, almost all of it was used, but it was special. It was mine, the first time I had something that was completely mine.
When we had to leave again, my teachers gave me some of their old stuff, including my first stethoscope. I never let my family see it, though, stuffing it under my bed or in my duffle. The deal was I didn't mess with Dean's or Sam's stuff and they didn't mess with mine, since privacy was extremely rare.
In my new high school, I continued learning. When I found out that my biology teach had been a medic in Desert Storm, I begged him to teach me some of the medical procedures. When he asked why, I told him I wanted to be a doctor.
And I did, I just knew I never could be. John expected us to graduate from high school, and then start hunting. And while I never could be what I wanted, there was still too much of a need to fight what darkness was out there, I couldn't just stop, either.
I started to smoke then, too. It was what kept me sane. Especially after Dean had started hunting, coming back with a dislocated shoulder or gashes.
It was really Sam who started the fight. He had started this normalcy kick when he was thirteen, something I had understood. What we did wasn't normal; we fought things that hid in the dark, things that we all thought were imagination, things that shouldn't be real.
But in the end I knew that if we didn't, then who else would. Maybe we couldn't send 'em all back to hell, but it made enough of a difference when we saved some kid from having to go through what we did. Even though I probably could have saved as many as a doctor. Maybe I felt guilty in a way.
So, instead I listened to Sam when he needed it. When he and John had a fight, and he ran into my room, if I was lucky to get my own, still yelling about how unfair it all was, I listened where Dean, still torn over the two, couldn't.
I knew that everyone had to vent, to let it all out sometimes, and I became the one to do that with. Even Dean knew that, and while he would say anything, he would often come outside with me as I smoked, and just sit in silence when things between John and Sam got out of hand.
I was the reliable one, the quiet one, the medic, the back up. Not the leader, or even second in command, although I was told to look after Sam sometimes when John needed Dean.
And I dealt with it. It was the natural order of things, I was the middle son and natural peacekeeper.
Maybe that was why it was such a shock to Sam when he found my medical textbooks.
I was just coming out of the shower, when I saw him on my bed looking over all my medical supplies.
"SAM! What the hell are doing with my stuff?"
"Are you leaving?" He asked suddenly, looking over the medical school applications my biology teach had given me.
"What?"
Hazel eyes met my own gray ones, and I knew I was in trouble. I sighed and sat down on my bed, next to him, but facing the wall.
"I wanted an escape. No, I'm not leaving, okay? I just…I'm not Dean. I'm not strong enough or have the street smarts. I'm not you, I'm not the one who knows everything about everything we fight and then some. I just, I'm Jack." I didn't know how to explain it well.
I had never shared my feelings with Sam, let alone everyone else. I grabbed a cigarette, not caring that the hotel room was non-smoking. I needed a light.
He waited for me to continue and I knew I wasn't going to get out of this so easily. "I told my biology teacher that I wanted to be a doctor, maybe a neurosurgeon so he would teach me. He's the one who gave me the applications."
Sam nodded, but I knew that this was far from over.
It happened about a week afterward, Sam had fought with John again, about staying to finish out his school year here, about how unfair it was and how he hated this life. The usual two stubborn people bickering about shit.
Dean went outside with me, to escape. I was just out there for a moment, smoking, when I heard the door slam open. For a second I thought Sam was running outside to talk, so I turned to speak, when I saw John.
He had a look in his eyes I could never forget, not even now. He had always looked worn out and angry at the same time. Like he was tired of everything, but at the same time still had some unfinished business and only when it was done, would he rest.
But now it was full blown, black rage.
"Dean, go inside, now!" He ground out. Shit, he would usually yell if he was angry. But to get him pissed off to the point where he would talk like this…
I was in deep shit!
I let the cigarette drop out of my hand, and looked over at the window to see Sam watching us. He didn't tell John, he couldn't of!
But another look at my father, and damn, I knew he had.
Dean got up quietly, without a word, and I nodded as if to say don't worry.
I sat there, not looking at him, waiting for the inevitable. It came like a blow to the head.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" He screamed. "Thinking of going off to college or some damn medical program, and leaving us when we need you? Deserting us!"
"I wasn't going! I just told my stupid biology teacher that so I could learn how to keep you alive! Dean comes in here every other week with some injury! Hell, last week a poltergeist sent Sam through a window! Who picked the glass out of his back? You? Who tried to be gentle and use what little painkillers I had left because we couldn't afford another trip to the ER? For my little brother for Christ's sake? Who made sure there was no infection? Who the hell, dad? Goddamnit, but someone had to!"
I never cussed at my dad. Hell, I rarely cussed at Dean or Sam either back then. And if I did, it was never beyond shit or hell. Never had I cussed like that. So it took a few minutes for John to react.
But react he did.
"And now you're the parent, huh? You know what's best for this family?"
"I didn't say I did, did I? I was just making a damn point! Sir!" I stood up, and John looked like he wanted to hit me. Surprisingly, none of the hotel's other residents bothered to call it into the police.
That was how it all started.
This is how it ended:
"You will throw out those applications now or I will throw you out!" He screamed at me. How we got into each other's faces so fast or who initiated it first, I'll never know.
"You won't have to! I'm done! I'm done picking up after the messes you make! I'm done fixing Dean and Sam, watching them get smashed and hit and burned and shot. I'm done waiting for you to come home! I'm done with this supernatural shit once and for all, damnit!"
"You leave, you better not be coming back!"
"Won't even look behind my shoulder, sir!" I stormed to my room, grabbing my duffle bags. I rarely unpacked anymore, there really wasn't a point to. I picked up a picture of Sam and Dean, the only one I had, and then scooped up the applications.
As I walked out the door, I glanced at my brothers. Dean looked shocked, Sam looked scared, staring at his feet as if he didn't know what to do. And for once I couldn't be there for them ormake it ok. I turned, pretending to ignore them, trying not to look back and say I'd stay. I couldn't. I just freaking couldn't anymore. Iwalked out never looking back, just I had promised, crossing the parking lot in record time.
John was waiting for me.
Before John could say anything, I threw the applications at him, wanting him to know that I hadn't filled out even one. I never looked back at him as I started for the corner, hotel dissapearing slowly behind me. I still wouldn't look back, not even when I was a block away.
It shouldn't have been as easy as it was to walk out.
But it was harder to come back after seven years.
What do you think? The second chapter is going to be in third person and we'll find out where Jack has been after leaving and while Sam and Dean were working things out.
Now click the button that says review PUH-LEASE!
