These characters aren't mine. I don't own them. Although would be willing to go into debt for Jeffrey Dean Morgan. I am guessing by the lack of reviews that the first chapter was not good reading. Do hope this chapter is more to every ones liking. Cheers.
January 24, 2005Mill Valley, California
"What the fuck you talking about boy?" The words slammed into Dean Winchester, like a punch from a prizefighter. Why didn't his dad just throw the punch? It would be easier and hurt a lot less. Contrary to what his kid brother Sam thought, he did feel things. Deeply. He just didn't let it show. John Winchester taught his boys never to show weakness. Weakness will get you killed.
"Sir, if you would just let me get it out." The young hunter's voice was firm and uncompromising. John Winchester ran his calloused hands through his hair and sighed. "I'm sorry son. Please continue." Sorry, it didn't even begin to explain the depth of his feelings. Dean, stubborn pain in the ass he was, just looked at him stone-eyed. Hazel eyes, his mothers eyes. Mary's eyes were capable of the same stone-eyed look. Oh hell, he was so fucked up. He was a psycho babblists wet dream.
"I went to the library sir…" John laughed at that. Sam his youngest and surliest would have never believed the words coming out of his older brother's mouth. Samuel John Winchester was long considered the brain of the family. If Sam only knew, Dean actually did most of the research for the two of them. Not that is was as fast as Sam had done it. "Sir," his son questioned. Oh man, he knew he really fucked up if Dean was persisting on using sir. "Go on Dean, I'm listening. " His kid gave him a look that said he thought otherwise, continuing on nonetheless.
"I went to the library and did some research on the town, seems the Murphy's have been here since 1714. They immigrated from Lietrum, Ireland. The Murphy's who own the welding business, Murphy's Fire and Iron." John thought normally this would be the part where his son would make some smart, usually funny comment on the name Fire and Iron. Today apparently was not 'normally.' "The welding business responsible for making the bridge, the bridge that picks the travelers it wants to let pass." Finally stopping for a breath, Dean looked at his father. John could see it in his son's eyes. 'What did I do?'
"Dean, you stayed at the library till closing last night and were up," the former Marine looked at his watch, "at 4:45am to continue your research?" "Sir, if you." "Damn it Dean, you can call me Dad." 'He probably thinks I don't remember. Oh Dean, I remember your mother passed out on me and the blood there was so much blood.' John watched his son look past him into the horizon. 'Oh Dean, I could never forget your birthday and I do love you.' John knew his mind was wandering.
"Yes sir. As I was saying the bridge plays it own version of spin the bottle, only its spin the car. All the victims have been men in there 40's. Young fathers who have been of question ethics, if the gossip in this hell whole of a town is correct. As the Murphy story goes, Marcum Murphy was stepping out on his wife with the courtesans." Dean used the phrase courtesans instead of a more vulgar euphemism. John was almost amused. "He was supposed to pick up his daughter Agnes from church and was late. Agnes started walking home on her own. The little girl was half way across the bridge when a run away carriage hit her."
John closed his hands behind his neck and stretched. 4:58am, there were times Deans ability not to sleep surprised him. He would have made a hell of a good Marine. Dean might have joked about his no respect for authority, but John knew it was no respect for him. He always told his boys you want respect, you have to earn it. Maybe he hadn't. More than like though, he had their respect and then lost it. His eldest was braver than any Marine he ever humped with.
Attempting a little levity John said, "I guess we know who put the overalls in Mrs. Murphy's chowder." Dean continued his mother's stone eyed look. Crashed and burned Johnny Boy. "Seems little Agnes is mad at Daddy. Dads aren't perfect, we are just men. Who can and do make mistakes, it doesn't mean we don't love our children," commented the older man with a sad smile. Dean wisely kept his thoughts on this subject to himself. "Also seems, it's a simple dig, salt and burn." "Completely agree sir." Sir. 'Retreat Hell.' John thought.
Sighing and rubbing his hands together, John turned and walked to his trusty old Chevy truck. "Are you coming son?" Dean silently followed his father. There where times in John's life as if he felt he where leading the lamb to the slaughter. The ride to the cemetery was quieter than the bone yard. "Oh hell John thought." And this was the son that stayed with him. Aside from being the bravest man he knew. His eldest son was the most loyal too. The road weary father thought of times he had exploited that. Despite what his younger son thought, he did love Dean. He loved them both.
When they arrived at the grave of the naughty little Agnes, Dean stripped off his black jacket and began digging. John would have offered to help, but figured this way his son might work off a little of his pent up anger. Twenty minutes and a few rays of sunshine later he heard the shovels mighty blow to the box housing the little girl's skeleton. "Shows all yours sir," Dean said as his dad gave him a hand out of the grave. At least he took my hand, the haggard man thought. That's a step in the right direction.
John salted and burned. Thinking about his current situation as he completed the task, a task he had completed thousands of times. Two brilliant boys and one very departed wife. He followed the path he thought was best. What if it wasn't? Sam had exiled himself here to California and Dean stayed with him out of some form a masochistic penance. The day Dean broke was going to be the day John died. He was damn hell sure of it. Dean was his lifeline, his center. He also knew he should tell him something to this effect…
The kid was a little too much like his father in this respect, no "chick flick" moments. 'Another thing I screwed up,' John thought. Dean had Mary's heart that's for damn sure. He remembered all the important days, sat with you when you were sick. Moped the sweat off your brow and puke off your face. Dean would take care of you when you were injured, clean and stitch open wounds, never minding the bloods, guts and gore. Hell, the pain in the ass would even hold you when the damn floodgates broke. There were times when the tears couldn't be kept at bay. Dean would just put his strong arms around you and let you sob into him, slowly rubbing your back till you calmed down.
Talk though; well talking that wasn't high on his list. It wasn't that Dean wouldn't if the situation absolutely called for the dreaded verbalization of feelings. Especially if it were for his younger brother Sam, for Sam Dean would do anything. Including tell him he loved him when Sam needed to hear the words. He just wanted to emulate his father. If you were silent and stoic, then no one could use your words against you. That was Dean when it came to the touchy feely. If he only knew how John raged at the Angels when he was alone. Still there was no doubt in John's mind Dean had Mary's heart and kind soul.
The ride back to the Bed and Breakfast was almost as silent as the ride from it. Silent Dean always sent chills down John's spine. His eldest son was never without something to say. Silence meant John had hurt his son, greatly. Oh Dean my son my little hunter. Kid might be over a quarter century old, but he would always be John's little hunter.
"Hungry, Dean?" "No sir, I had an apple." The Winchester trackers of all things evil arrived back at the quaint Old Brick Lodge. The Old Brick earned its moniker from the fact it was built of the bricks that housed the first town hall. Normally the duo would have stayed in a cheap roadside motel, this hell whole of a town as Dean put it, didn't have one. As they were taking care of their things Dean's phone rang.
John glanced at his watch 8:13am. Sam called right on time. Dean flipped open the phone and put in on speaker. A cacophony of classic rock songs played, excerpts at least. Sam always made sure to have songs that would make Dean laugh and let him know he was loved. AC/DC's Highway to Hell, I'm on the Highway to Hell, No stop signs, no speed limit, nobody's gonna slow me down. Like a wheel gonna spin it nobody's gonna mess me round. Queen, Soul Brother, My brother won't let you down, he won't , he won't, he won't let you down, he can do anything anything anything he is my soul brother. Lynyrd Skynyrd Whiskey Rock a Roller, I was born a travellin man and my feets do bun the ground I don't care for fancy music if your shoes can't shuffle around, I got a hundred woman and there's no place I call home, The only time I'm satisfied is when I'm on the road. Earth, Wind and Fire, Blood Brothers, From the time we were old enough to stand, it was you and I together till the end, oh what our souls believe we will always be blood brothers time can't divide. Bad Company, Bad Company, Rebel souls deserters we are called chose a gun and threw away the sun now these towns they all know are name 6 gun sound is our claim to fame, I can hear them say, Bad Company and of course, Kansas, Carry on Wayward Son, Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done, lay you weary head to rest, don't you cry no more. Sam had heard the story dozens of times. Guess there was no leaving Kansas for the Winchesters. Taking it off speaker, Dean laughed "Nice selection this year Geek Boy." His son smiled, actually smiled.
"Angels above, I am the worst fucking father on this earth." When Dean turned and looked at him, John thought he must have uttered this observation out loud. Then Dean gave him the going outside look. Great more Dad bashing. At least on Sam's side. He was never going to earn the coveted Dad of the Year award.
"Dean, how does it feel to be another year older? Any gray hairs yet? Or is it time for Rogaine?" Sam asked, not trying to hide that fact he was rubbing in the fact Dean was older. "Shut up Bitch." Sam ignored the rebuke. "Where are you guys? How long will you be there? I made you a totally kick box this year…" rambled the younger of the two in one breath.
"Sammy, Sammy, its cool dude, just the fact someone remembered," Dean relayed with out ire in his voice, just simple resignation. "He hasn't wished you a happy fucking birthday? He was there for the event." Sam stated anger evident at the slight their father had committed. Committed and not for the first time.
"Yeah, fucking had a lot to do with it," laughed the older brother. Before he could say any more his father pulled the phone out of Dean's hand, put it up to his ear, "Sam your brother will have to call you back." The burley father snapped the phone shut and handed it back to his oldest. "Just so you know son, fucking did have a lot to do with. I love your mother so fucking much. We had you and your brother."
John Winchester could see his son wanted to say something, probably something that would make John want to send him flying into the field behind them. "Now, when you call your brother back, tell him your fucking father, said we will see you in a couple of hours." With that the ageing hunter turned around and walked back into the Old Brick Lodge.
He didn't want to see the emotion in his oldest son's face. It would break him. Break him like that old porcelain doll Mary had kept in the nursery. They might have had son's not daughters, but even John like the smiling face of the porcelain angel. What father wouldn't want an angel to watch over his boys? The doll had broken before Sam was born. Mary glued it back together, she told him, "Not all Angels have perfect halos." John had no idea Dean had the pretty guardian sitting in his trunk.
Dean Christopher Winchester was for the first time in his life speechless, really and truly speechless. Dean whose mouth had gotten him in trouble or more than one occasion was at an utter loss for words. Being a smart mouth was part of his defense mechanism. His father just paid him a kindness. Oh it was not the first time, just the first in a very long time. Flipping open his phone he called, he was sure very anxious younger brother. "What the hell just happened Dean, are you okay? Did he hurt you?" uttered a nerve racked, though still ready to defend his brother, sounding Sam.
"You are not in a million years going to guess what just happened," was the still flabbergasted Deans reply. "Our Dad just gave me a real birthday present." Sam was shocked he looked at the phone with a wtf expression, not that Dean could see it. "Sammy quit staring at the phone I haven't even told you what the man did." Sam, flipped his hair out of his eyes, of course Dean knew his reaction. "What'd he give you? A new knife or something?" asked Sam. Still impressed his Dad actually did something, anything.
"I'll see you in two hours little brother." With that Dean hung up. He looked at his phone knowing his brother was probably sitting on that ugly green chair doing the same thing. Did his brother just say he was going to see him in two hours? " See him." Sam repeated this to an empty room. Crap he had things to do.
His brother was going to have a good birthday or the best one Sam could come up with in a short space of time. This separation had been hard on them. Sam never realized how much a part of his life Dean was until he was alone. When you are alone the demons come. There is no big brother ready to take on the world to protect you.
Dean took a calming breath and walked back into the room he had been sharing with his father. "Dad?" He looked around and didn't see his John. "Dad?" John walked out of the bathroom and looked at him, emotion visible in his eyes. In an uncharacteristic move for both of them, Dean hugged his Dad, like he would have when he was real little. He could hear his sons muffled thank you. John squeezed his son hard and kissed the top of his head.
"Dean I know I would never win any father of the year awards, but I do love you. More than you will ever know or realize. You have to understand that." John's voice was a little unsteady, his eyes imploring Dean to understand. The young man looked at his father, both with raw emotions on their faces. "I know Dad. Honestly, I do. I love you too. And if you ever tell Sammy about this, I might have to stuff and mount you to the wall like the duck out there in the entrance hall."
John laughed leave it to his son to get them out of this with their male dignity intact. With that the older Winchester went to settle the bill, while the younger one finished packing. Twenty minutes and two steaming hot beverage cups later, the Winchester boys were crossing over the Golden Gate Bridge and in search of the 280 south. While driving on the Northern California freeway John headed down memory lane. When you are alone the demons come.