It's time you listened…


Disclaimer: As usual nothing from 'Supernatural' belongs to me – wishing it is don't make it so.

Summary: John and Pastor Jim talk about John's relationship with his sons. Set shortly after Sam's phone message to his father when Dean is ill in 'Faith'


Author's note: Thanks to Rae Artemis for her betaing expertise and for pointing out the parts of this chapter that needed work – hopefully I've got it right now... Also continued thanks for help with the 'pancakes' - you're a star!

Author's note 2: Please read and review. Chapter 3 is still being written but hopefully won't be too long in the making.


Chapter 2 – Maybe this time, we'll get somewhere

The following morning, Jim had risen early, taken some quiet time in the garden, before setting about his daily routine. He hadn't slept well; thoughts of John's boys in the hospital had invaded his thoughts.

He had a number of things to sort at the church after breakfast. He was tempted to make a call, find someone to cover his duties and to go and see Sam and Dean himself. Sam had left his cell number. He would call him at lunch time to see how they were holding up. He'd try again to talk to John, he'd pushed too far last night and they had parted on bad terms although John had still taken the spare room and he had had no answer to his question.

He walked back into the house and pottered round the kitchen for a few minutes before starting on pancakes for breakfast. The boys had always loved to pick the fruit from the garden to go with their pancakes. Sam's favourite had always remained as blueberry and it had taken years for him to accept Dean's explanation that blueberries didn't grow in Pastor Jim's garden all year round, sometimes it was not blueberry time. Dean had loved banana pancakes and as a special treat, Jim had sprinkled a decidedly unhealthy dose of choc chips in with them. He remembered when Sam had been a teenager on some sort of health kick and attempting to take his brother with him down this new path to enlightenment, the arguments that had ensued with Sam telling him he was going to be fat and die before long and Dean's laughing response about dying happy and enjoying his food before he went.

He looked down at the pancake mix he had prepared and the bananas and choc chips ready to go in. Enough for four. He reached for a tub and split the mix in half, it would do no good for John to see that he had made enough for the boys as if they were here like old times. He had already begun to cook when John made his first appearance, looking haggard and like he'd not slept too well either.

'John.' He said by way of greeting. 'Pancakes for breakfast, okay with you.'

'You always used to make pancakes for the boys.'

'Yeah, old habits die hard. I got distracted.'

'Mmm. Jim,' he cleared his throat, 'you know some things can't be explained that easily. There aren't the words.'

'For feelings and family, John, you should make the time to find the words. They deserve that much from you.' He had carried the pancakes to the table, setting a plate down infront of John before sitting down with his own.

'Banana and choc chip. Never had you down as a banana and choc chip kind of guy. Sammy always used to like blueberry best, Dean would eat what ever was going, but he always used to say you made the best pancakes after I'd left them with you for a few days. If this is what you made I'm not surprised, he'd eat anything unhealthy.'

'Banana and choc chip were Dean's favourite John, he ate what he was given and never complained but if you'd asked him, this was his favourite. Probably still is, if I know Dean. He had one hell of a sweet tooth.' Jim smiled at the memory.

'Probably got him where he is now. If he'd taken more care of his heart, he wouldn't have been injured on that job.'

'Do you know what actually happened? How Dean got hurt? Why he's dying?'

'Sam said he'd had a heart attack. I always told him he should look after himself, keep himself fit. He never did listen as well as he should.'

'John, is there anything good you can say about him? Because I get the feeling that we are talking about someone different. I always have. There's something you see when you look at Dean that the rest of the world doesn't. Why is that? What did he do wrong?'

'Dean knows he was supposed to look out for Sam. Look what happened to Jess, what do you think that will have done to Sam?'

'Apart from the fact that what happened to Jess was not Dean's fault, nor was it Dean's fault that Sam left for Stanford, this goes back further than that. You and Dean have been like this since I've known you. That boy has only ever sought your approval and has never felt good enough.'

'He was supposed to be a good soldier…'

'No he wasn't. I never knew your Mary, I know that, but Dean was supposed to be your son, your eldest, first born. He should have been treasured as Sam was.'

'Sam didn't deserve to have his mother die before he was old enough to have a memory of her.'

'And Dean didn't deserve to have his mother die when he could only just remember her, before he'd made it to school, he didn't deserve to have the life he barely knew ripped away and replaced with a lifetime of looking after a father and younger brother who forgot that he needed them every bit as much as they needed him to do things for them. He devoted everything to the two of you, his every waking minute.'

'No, he didn't. Not always. Not when it mattered.'

'The Shtriga, is that what this is about? Have you not forgiven a child for a moment of weakness after all these years? Have you never thought that what happened was as much your fault as his?'

'I expected him to look out for Sammy.'

'Jim, I'm sorry it's so late. I need you to look after Sammy... the boys for me. I've got to get back before it gets away. Will you…?'

'Of course, John. Are they still in the car? Asleep?'

'Yeah. I'll go wake them.'

'No, wait. Can we lift them in without waking them?'

'I don't know, maybe. Wake Dean, he's in the back, he'll be too heavy. Sammy maybe. I'll bring Sammy in.'

Jim saw something he'd never seen before, Dean alone in the back, with Sam asleep next to the driver's seat up front. He'd opened the door and realised that Dean wasn't asleep but he had a strangely shuttered expression, head hanging but still seeming to watch his brother and his father. In the time it had taken to drop the boys off and head off again, John had not once looked at or spoken to Dean, not even the usual barked instructions about behaving, listening to Jim, looking after Sammy, nothing. Dean quieter than ever, had stood to the side, not daring to look up from the floor.

John had left, but Dean hadn't relaxed; he'd remained standing like a silent sentry just inside the guest bedroom. Jim had been down to see John leave and to lock up behind him and when he returned, nothing in the room had changed. The only sign that Dean was even alive was his breathing and the regular blink of his eyes.

'Dean?'

'Sir?'

'Come on, get ready for bed. You're shattered too.'

'No sir.'

'Dean. You know the rules in my house.' He'd never had to tell Dean off for anything before. Well, not really tell him off, there'd been a few instances of choice language, not really the boy's fault when you heard the mouth on his father, and one or two episodes of what might be referred to as high-jinks or pranks, but those had only occurred during longer stays when the boys had begun to relax. Things that had earned him a telling off but had actually warmed the pastor's heart to see him do things that boys his age should be doing.

'Sorry. I can't.'

'Can't what Dean? What's the matter?'

'I need to watch Sammy. I didn't watch him close enough before. I was bad.' John's boy was crumbling before his eyes, something Jim had always known was a possibility but had never expected to witness. The fragility in the boy's demeanour was glaring.

'Dean, it's okay. Sammy's fine. You're both okay here.'

Dean's eyes suddenly snapped away from Sammy and looked with a fierce intensity into Jim's 'I don't think he'll forgive me for what I did. I don't think… not ever…' the regret and sadness in his voice made Jim's heart ache.

'What happened, Dean? Tell me about it.'

'Dad told me to look after Sammy and I didn't. I went out and Sammy nearly died and they'll both hate me now. I can't put it right. I don't know how…' the desperation edged his voice.

'Dean, come and sit down by me and we'll talk about it.' he'd gently guided the boy to the other bed and sat him down. 'Take your shoes off and your jacket Dean.' If he could get enough layers off, he might be able to get Dean to relax enough to fall asleep.

'I'm not good enough, Pastor Jim. I wanted to be but I'm not…' his eyes had been brimming with tears, tears that didn't fall. 'I'm not good enough, I don't deserve them.'

'Dean, you are good enough, but sometimes the tests God sends will be more than we can manage on our own and sometimes we make the wrong decisions and things go badly but it's what's in here that counts,' he'd pointed at the young boy's heart. 'In your heart is goodness.'

It had been the final straw and the boy's tears began to fall, silently as he'd shaken his head in denial of the last comment. 'Tell me, Dean, about what happened.'

'I left him to go play on a game machine and the thing came to get him. I didn't see it until I got back; it was trying to feed on Sammy. I got the gun that Dad had left ready but then Dad got back and he saved Sammy, like I should have done, like he shouldn't have needed saving. It was my fault. I was being selfish.'

'Where was your Dad?'

'Hunting. I was supposed to look after Sammy and call you if there was a problem.'

'Dean, when did your Dad go on the hunt?'

'Monday.'

'So your Dad was gone for three days?'

'I guess. But I know what to do, I knew what I was supposed to do. I was wrong. I shouldn't have left Sammy. I knew…,' the emotion in his voice was strangled as the child in him warred with the soldier his Dad had tried to make him.

'Sssh, calm down. Breathe, that's right, in… and out…, in… and out…. Dean. You shouldn't have gone, but it wasn't your fault. What would have been different if you'd been there?'

'I could have protected Sammy. It's what I'm supposed to do. It's my job, my responsibility'

'No Dean. It's your father's responsibility to look out for both of you and sometimes he forgets that. '

'But I can do it, I know how, he's my brother,' Dean's voice had been desperate, clinging to the only thing he knew, the only measure of his own worth he knew. In the young boy's mind, his life was only valued in relation to how well he cared for his brother.

The Pastor sighed, 'I know you can look after him, Dean. You do look after him really well. Ever since we first met, you've looked out for Sam, more than most boys your age would do for a younger brother. But that's not the point. The point is you shouldn't be looking out for your brother for three days. Your Dad should be looking after you both and if he can't, then he should be taking you to stay with someone else.'

'We don't need anyone else. I can do it; I need him to know I won't mess it up again. I'm sorry.'

'When your Dad left this time, did he tell you what he was hunting? Did he tell you how long he'd be gone? Did he tell you to stay in the room and not go out? Dean, have the two of you spent the three days in a motel room again?'

Dean only gave one answer and left Jim to decide which question it was the answer to 'Yes sir.'

'Dean, listen to me. I know you love your brother and I know you love your Dad, but sometimes, it's difficult for him to do the right thing for you and your brother…'

'That's why I should be better. Will you tell him when he gets back, Pastor Jim, please will you tell him, I'm sorry and I'll be better from now on? I won't let anything hurt Sam not ever, I'll always put Sammy first, I promise.'

'It's okay, Dean. Just lie down here,' as the boy scrambled to try and stand up to keep watch on his brother, warring with the exhaustion written in every line on his body, 'lie down, Dean, just rest for a little while. I'll stay and watch Sammy.' He had eased the exhausted child down onto the bed and pulled a cover over him, watching as Dean still tried to fight the beckoning sleep. He ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to ease the tension that was stopping Dean finally giving into sleep, 'Sssh. It'll be okay. Just sleep for now, just for a little while.' Finally, his breathing eased into sleep, although his body was still unnaturally tense. Jim made himself comfortable on the end of the bed, knowing that it was going to take all his skills to keep Dean resting, even if he wouldn't sleep.

Time and again, he'd, to put it politely, disagreed with John over how the boys should be cared for. They had had very heated discussions over whether the boys should be left for days at a time alone in a motel room. John always was adamant that they were fine, Jim always certain that they should be anywhere but not alone and not hunting. But they were John's boys and they were loyal if nothing else. They would follow their Dad to the end of the earth and back.

The problem was Jim knew that was why they were where they were now. He had made repeated offers to let the boys stay with him when John was hunting. John wouldn't have it. At times, he'd been almost tempted to call Children's Services himself to get the boys taken into protection but he wouldn't do it, not ever, it had never been an acceptable answer. He thought back to that conversation with Dean after the Shtriga incident and thought maybe he'd been wrong, maybe they would have been better off with a normal, loving family, maybe Dean wouldn't be dying now, but ifs, buts and maybes didn't cut mustard and it was too late to contemplate how life might have been different.

'John, for once, tell me the truth. It wasn't the Shtriga. The first time you brought the boys here, there was already something different in the way you treated Sam and the way you were with Dean.'

'Jim. It's in the past. It's best left there.'

'I don't believe that anymore. If it was behind you all and you'd moved on, fine, I'd go with dead and buried, but you're busy burying something that isn't dead yet and won't be until you deal with it. The problem is with your boys, they're so close now, hell they always have been, that you are the outsider. Even more so now, you won't get Sam back unless you sort out with Dean. If Dean dies, you lose them both for good and nothing will sort it out.'

'Sam understands the need for revenge. We'll find common ground from that.'

'You won't. Believe me. Sam might hunt for revenge, but he won't hunt with you if Dean's gone. And he won't stay for you. I don't even know if Dean could keep him hunting but they won't lose touch again, not now, they don't need you as much as they need each other. You are the one who is dispensable, John, you set out to make your boys self-reliant, strong and independent.'

'Dean was difficult… after Mary died…'

'What?'

'Dean, he was difficult, he wouldn't talk, he wouldn't be left alone, he cried himself to sleep, he asked for his mom in his sleep.'

'He was a child, little more than a baby himself. What did you expect?'

'I wanted time to grieve and instead I had a baby and Dean to look after. I wanted my wife, my home, my future…'

'Is that where all this anger comes from? Really?'

'Both boys were just so demanding, but Sammy couldn't help it, he was just a baby.'

'Dean couldn't help it. Think John, think back to the little boy you knew just before his mother died and then think about the little boy you had just after. They were the same child. Part of Dean died in the fire, another bit was damaged when his father couldn't bring himself to help him and another bit died when you stopped him being a child and made him be a parent to Sam.'

'I needed him to pull himself together so that we could move on. And once we did, he wouldn't go back. Not once has he ever been to his mother's grave. In all these years, not one fucking time… Didn't she mean anything to him?'