A/N: This is my first Supernatural fic. I got the insperation from one of John's journal entries. This is just a tiny little story, but the idea just wouldn't leave me alone. Hope it's good!
Disclaimer: I wish.
December 5, 1983
Blood covered John, as he gazed in horror up at his burning wife. "John!" She screamed, reaching out to him. John reached up as high as he could, but try as he might he couldn't reach his Mary. John cried out as the fire completely covered his beautiful wife.
"No! Mary!" John shouted, jerking awake to find that he wasn't in his burning house but a crappy motel room. He sat up in his motel bed panting for breath. Covering his face with shaking hands, John tried to calm himself down. Tried to convince himself that the nightmare wasn't real, that his wife's death wasn't happening again. A soft noise from the crib beside his bed caused John to lower his hands.
Glancing at the clock on his nightstand, he was surprised to see that it was well past midnight. This time he had managed to stay asleep for half an hour before the same nightmare woke him up.
Standing up, John walked to the side of the crib and wasn't shocked to see Dean inside the crib holding baby Sam close to him. What John didn't expect to see what the slight frown on his oldest son's face, and the soft whimper that came from tightly clenched lips. Dean was restless, and was unintentionally waking Sam up.
Releasing Dean's hold on Sam, John picked him up out of the crib. Holding Dean close to him, he walked around the small motel room mumbling soothing words while stroking Dean's small back. He knew Dean had nightmares about his mother dying. The nightmares were the reason Dean would awaken in the middle of the night and climb into his baby brother's crib. To protect Sammy from the fire. When his son had quieted down, John laid back down on his own bed with Dean leaning against his chest.
Slowly Dean woke up, revealing brilliant green eyes. Green eyes that reminded John of his wife.
Mary
John felt a pang in his heart, but pushed it away, and focused on his son.
"Hey Ace, have a bad dream?" John asked in a soft voice, moving a hand through his son's thick blonde hair. Dean nodded, leaning into his father's comforting touch.
"Wanna talk about it?" Dean shook his head, tears filling his eyes.
John had expected the lack of verbal response from his son. Dean had barely talked since the fire. Even when John would attempt to make small talk, Dean would just nod or shake his head, only talking when he needed to. The only person Dean ever really talked to was baby Sam.
"Well, you just lay here and go back to sleep-"
Surprisingly, Dean interrupted him. "No. Protect Sammy," He said in a small, determined voice. John inwardly smiled. Dean had always been a great big brother, but the night of the fire, when John placed Sam into his small arms, Dean began to take the role much more seriously.
"Dean, he's fine. I'll watch over both of you, but you need to get your sleep," Dean hesitated for a moment, but eventually complied. Burrowing into his father, Dean allowed his eyes to close, not fully relaxing until he had fallen asleep.
John wrapped his arms around his son. He smiled when he felt Dean snuggle closer to the warmth. Hugging his son tighter, John involuntarily found his eyes closing from exhaustion.
'I'll always watch over you.' Was John's last thought before he succumbed to sleep.