When I started writing for SPN a few months back, I knew I wanted to write a series on the younger version of both the Winchester brothers and how their co-dependent bond was formed. But to write their story back in the day I have delved time and again into John's mind – that might not be the case every story I write for the series because it is centrally a story mostly about the brothers.
But it cannot be ignored that John plays a huge part in how Sam and Dean turned out. Whether in a positive or negative way, his presence was a huge catalyst in how the brothers grew up and how their bond was forged.
So in some of the stories I touch upon in this chapter and the upcoming flashes of that timeline I will be putting light on John (but just in respect with the brothers)
Sorry I am posting after so long – working from home is far hectic than any usual routine, it's hard to find consistent time to write – I may post less but I will surely make up for it with length.
A wonderful house, with a beautiful yard, a colourful swing set, the waft of freshly baked pie and the sound of his mother calling out to them.
Dean had this dream every other day.
These dreams of moments that -could have been- were the only traces of his mother he had left. He cherished them, living all his unattained desires through them.
On mornings like these, while still envisioning his mother's golden locks caressing his face when she cuddled him, tickling him to wake him up. Almost smelling her lilac perfume, and the sound of her puttering around their home to make breakfast for them all, he could forget that he had lost her.
Those fleeting dreams took away all the pain, all the fear. And he didn't want to wake up from it.
Dean groaned, trying to nestle deeper into his warm cocoon, even as he felt an incessant tapping on his face. It took him a while to wake up.
Even before he could regain his senses, he felt a heavy weight on his legs, as if someone was crawling all over him. Tiny but sharp elbows poked him, and then he felt tiny hands pat his face, poke his eyes trying to peel the eyelids away.
Dean smiled, knowingly and opened his eyes, looking at his adorable brother, who had woken up before him, somehow clambered over the crib and gotten on the bed to be with his big brother.
Sam usually did that on the days he woke up early.
Dean had been terrified when Sammy had done it the first few times. So much so that he couldn't sleep-in even if he wanted to in the fear that Sam would fall down trying to reach him when he was still asleep. One day he'd finally just pushed Sam's crib close to the bed he slept on, so if Sam even fell he'd fall on the bed.
"D…b aba…" Sam babbled trying to get Dean's attention, patting his little hands on Dean's face. When awake Sam wanted all his brothers attention.
Dean chuckled, cradling Sam in his arms, bringing him closer to kiss his chubby little cheeks. "Good Morning Sammy! Were you being naughty? I told you not to get down from the crib on your own." Dean pretended to glare at his brother.
Sammy was unfazed by it, already smart enough to know that he had his brother wrapped around his finger. He gurgled in response, wriggling his little body, hitting his brother's face and chin in excitement.
Dean couldn't help but laugh, and tweaked Sammy's nose…making the baby giggle. He then pulled Sammy beside him, turned to face him and hugged him close.
Dean smiled, adorning Sam's head with soft kisses. This was their morning rituals on most days. When Dean woke up early he would quietly lie down besides Sammy in his crib, pulling him close and snuggled with him.
And on days like today, when Sam woke up and Dean wasn't by his side, he would climb out of his crib and crawl to be beside his brother. Their mornings weren't well spent if they weren't together.
Dean, for very long had felt as if he had no desire, no reason to be happy. Sadness and fear clouded him, greying his vibrant and beautiful life.
But Sam had been the ray of sunshine that had shined and replaced the darkness within him with his bright light. Without even knowing or intending to…Sammy's innocence, his need for his brother's presence and his love had bought Dean back from losing himself into the shadows enveloping him.
Sammy was of course too little to express his fondness in words but even as a child he was perceptive enough to know that Dean, signified love…..Even if he didn't realize or understand those feelings, he felt them and reciprocated them ardently, in his own childlike ways.
Obviously one of the reasons of his attachment to his brother was also that Dean was the only person he relied on, who almost always was his only company and took care of most of his needs.
But Dean liked to believe that he and Sammy shared a magical bond. Where he could understand Sammy even through his incoherent mumbling, and Sammy who was too small to recognise any words or actions somehow grasped on Dean's every emotion, mood or gesture.
Like now, when Dean was silent and thoughtful…Sammy didn't like it. He batted his little palms on Dean's face vying for attention.
Dean, who was bright eyed reminiscing the wonderful moments he spent with his brother, feeling gratified for this precious gift his Mommy had left him with, looked back at Sammy with awe, forgetting to smile.
Sammy stared at his brother with blank confusion, misunderstanding Dean's silence for sadness.
And Sammy didn't like when Dean was sad. His chin wobbled, a sure sign of tears that were to follow.
Understanding his brother, Dean smiled wide to reassure him. Then kissed his button nose, tickling him in his neck making Sammy squeal in delight.
Dean smiled, then lifted Sammy's night shirt to blow raspberries on his tummy, making Sammy giggle and shriek in joy.
Thinking of it as a game, Sammy tickled back with his little fingers and Dean played along by laughing too, pretending to bite on the palms that came up to paw at him.
Sammy laughed continually till he was breathless, Dean patted his chest lovingly," Okay, okay…sssh, that's enough Sammy," Dean said, laying down beside Sam again.
Sammy caught his breath and stopped laughing but burbled, as if demanding his brother to play more.
"Boys, what's going on," a voice resounded suddenly and Dean turned to see John enter the room. He stared at his father warily wondering if he'd been disturbed by their noise. But when he saw a slight smile on his Daddy's face, he beamed back too.
"Nothing Daddy, Sammy was being naughty," Dean said slyly. "The tickle monster was teaching him a lesson…right Sammy?" Dean looked to Sammy who was busy chewing onto Dean's night shirt.
"Is it?" John smirked, sitting beside his boys on the bed. And tickled both of them until they were panting for breath and pleading for him to stop. "Tickle monster says Sammy wasn't the only one being naughty…" John said teasingly.
He lifted his boys on his lap, giving them both a tender kiss on their head.
Dean snuggled into his Daddy's arms, revelling the feeling of his father's love he had assumed he had lost.
John let the boys be for a while. They didn't after all get much time to be with him…what with him being away….and many a times when he was even around he wasn't much of a father to them anyway. He tried to be, but kept failing.
Still, his boys as innocent as they were always forgave him, especially Dean… Who understood the loss of a parent more vividly than Sam….who didn't even realise what he was losing out on.
"Come on Dean, wash up…help Sammy too and come for breakfast…okay?" John set them down.
He could sense Dean's yearning to elongate the moment a bit longer, but his son dutifully picked Sammy on his hip and walked away.
Dean made Sammy sit on the slab by the sink, squirting some toothpaste on Sammy's little brush. He moved to clean Sammy's teeth which weren't many in number. Sammy always thought of it as a game, the gentle rubbing of the brush on his jaw interested him.
After cleaning Sammy's teeth…. Dean, set about wiping his face….which was apparently the hardest to do because for some reason Sammy hated water on his face.
Sam squirmed and wriggled from his hold, whimpering. Dean made a quick job of it. Then kissed Sammy's cheeks in apology," Sorry Sammy…sorry," he looked at him dewy eyed. Then to make him happy, held him around his waist…letting him lean across the sink to play with the running water till he brushed his teeth.
When they were both ready they set out to the kitchen table where John was making them their breakfast.
John smiled at them when they entered giving Dean a nod of approval for the good job with Sammy. Dean felt thrilled at his Dad's unsaid praise. He strapped his brother to his high chair…giving him his blocks to play with and sat down next to him to help.
While they played Dean kept stealing glances at his Dad working around the kitchen, comforting himself with his father's presence.
For weeks after Mommy died, Dean thought he'd lost his Daddy too. What with Daddy being so surly, not talking or hugging them. Doing things for them but without any real will or happiness. Dean had begun feeling alone, heartbroken and scared….to the point that he'd wondered if his Daddy would abandon them too.
But in the last two months things had turned around. Daddy had slowly begun mellowing down. Slowly but surely started talking to them, taking part in caring for both him and Sammy.
He still had to work, read over his big books and many a times leave them with strangers or friends Dean didn't recognise but he could see that Daddy was trying hard. Where he'd lost all hope before Daddy's attempts at balancing everything had reassured him that their Dad was just as upset about Mommy leaving as he was. And he being grumpy or angry didn't mean he didn't love them.
It wasn't like Daddy didn't lose his temper anymore or that he was the same Dad he knew from before. But over time Dean had realised that like he couldn't get life before the fire back, he wouldn't get the same Dad back either.
For now, the fact that he loved them, was enough.
John got Sammy's bananas and cheese sandwiches for Dean and himself. When Dean gasped in pleasure he felt relief….at being a small reason of his son's happiness.
John would never forget his son's consistent silence. How he wouldn't talk or respond. It was almost like he'd gone mute.
John in his own grief and anger had forgotten how to be a father and he had ended up overlooking the fact that his son wasn't talking.
Days or even weeks after Mary had died, John had just been walking dead. Most of the times he'd be out drunk not aware of how his sons were getting by without both their parents.
It was Dean who'd become a man at a young age of five by taking on duties that shouldn't have been asked of him. Dean had had to learn to look after his brother, of himself and surprisingly even John.
He could now remember so many nights when he'd be drunk to the gills, out cold and Dean would remove his boots, rest his legs and cover him up.
His son who should have been throwing tantrums, crying and demanding better had silently been going through loss after loss… of his parents, of hope, of his childhood.
It had almost been too late before John had realized how pathetically he had been failing his family… Almost.
It had been a month ago. John had been scouting for leads….had situated them in a shabby rundown and unoccupied house. He had been away most of the time, that he had missed observing the fact that the place was ridden with pests, live open wires and not inhabitable at all… especially not for toddlers and babies.
It was one of those mornings when John had been sleeping in, getting over a hangover from the night before…
He had woken up coughing when smoke and a familiar odour reached his room. He had dashed out of the room to witness flames. Most of the kitchen had been on fire and was beginning to spread everywhere else.
His worst nightmare had come true….that the fire would eat up the rest of his family. Even as he searched the house for his boys he cursed himself for being unable to find what had killed Mary assuming it was the same that had now come to destroy his life.
It had only been that day when he had realized just how much he still had in his life to cherish.
Suddenly remembering that there was an attic he bounded down the half broken staircase.
The sight that met his eyes had made his blood run cold.
Dean sat at the far corner of the dusty attic. He had a small bundle in his arms, who was swaddled in the blanket. Sammy.
Dean was holding onto his brother as if clinging to his life, which he probably was. Tears running down his eyes that were staring faraway and endlessly.
His hands were burnt, telling John that Dean had gotten those wounds saving his brother and escaping the wrath of the fire.
He remembered how he had hugged his sons to himself and cried. For a second thanking the God he had stopped believing in for having mercy on his sons.
He had called 911, packed and loaded them in the car and fled, not looking back, not stopping. He knew the fire was accidental. But if there was even the slightest chance that it wasn't… he wasn't ready to lose any more of his family.
While driving he had kept looking over his sons, Sammy who was on his car seat was fast asleep with his thumb in his mouth.
And Dean, He sat numb, staring away…even as he held onto his brother, leaning his head on Sammy's car seat.
It was then that it struck John. Dean's hands were burnt…he should have been screaming his lungs out. The pain of a burn would have seeped in even if he was in shock. But Dean had been quietly crying, not one whimper, no sound.
How had he missed this? How had he ignored his son's silent pleas, his trauma? In his own grief and misery he had forgotten that he hadn't been the only one to lose Mary. He hadn't been the only one to witness the tragedy unfold in front of his eyes. His four year old, his little child had as well.
The same four year old who had since then not spoken a word. And John had done nothing.
He couldn't let this go on. He couldn't leave his children to fend for themselves. What kind of a parent physically and above all emotionally abandoned his kids?
That incident had been a startling jolt. The prospect of even his kids being snatched away from had woken him to his mistakes. And John had vowed that he'd do better. Even if he could never be the same man from before. He wouldn't at least be a complete failure like he had been so far.
Since then John began making conscious efforts to be more present. He'd spend more time with his sons. Fed them, read them stories, and helped them sleep.
Noticing how badly Dean's education had been affected. John had begun home-schooling for him understanding that Dean wasn't yet mentally ready to be parted from the safety of his family.
Dean had progressed steadily then. His walls broke, he learnt to trust his father some more even if not entirely. He regained his lost confidence and slowly begun talking again.
And even though he still wanted to be the one doing everything for Sammy, he let his Dad help and eventually they learnt to do it together. Spending more time as a family.
John still researched, still fervently trying to understand the evil and unknown. To protect his family he'd have to unearth the truth, hunt and save other families from the evil. But he made efforts to balance his desire for revenge with the future and welfare of his kids.
He wasn't anywhere near either perfect or good at it. Because when a new hunt surfaced, a new fact he had researched reeled him, he left…leaving his kids with friends or baby-sitters. But there was no other way. If he had to protect his family he'd have to do what he was doing and eventually even his kids would have to understand and learn to live with it.
A loud sound from Sammy bought John out of his reverie. Sammy was currently trying to do two jobs together. Play with his blocks while eating his breakfast.
Dean was continually vying to detract Sammy from the blocks so he could eat. But having failed, Dean had now left his own breakfast and was feeding Sammy his bananas so the kid could play. Happy to have his way Sammy was gurgling in pleasure.
John smiled at them… In one mind to let them have their way. And he almost wanted to, because lately he'd been trying to get in their good books. Being more, good cop than bad.
But he had to discipline them and it had to start from small…so it eventually became a habit. They didn't know yet…that they were going to be bought up soldiers. Learning to face the unknown and save themselves and each other. For that he'd have to start preparing them.
"Dean, eat your breakfast," John said without any bite," Let Sammy eat his own… he has to learn to do things by himself."
Dean moved away at his Dad's demand. But he was doubtful of what his Dad had claimed," But Daddy, Sammy's still a baby."
"Yes he's still a baby, but he will grow up one day…just like you. And if we don't teach him these little things now he won't grow up smart and independent…right?" John urged.
Dean didn't quiet agree with his Dad here. Because why did Sammy have to be independent when he had Dean to do everything for him. But he didn't voice it and simply nodded.
John didn't want Dean to feel reprimanded," Kiddo I know you want to do everything for Sammy… and I am so proud of you," John smiled and Dean's eyes lit up at the praise. "But like you keep trying to make Sammy walk and talk. You have to try and teach him he can't have his own way every time. You have to teach him some discipline…okay kiddo?" John explained in a way he knew Dean would understand him. Dean nodded quickly, seeing sense in his father's words.
But being strict with Sammy was something he'd have to learn too. For now he'd have to let Daddy be the one doing it.
John took Sammy in his lap, peeling him away from his toys. And for a minute Dean thought Sammy would start crying. But Sammy seemed to be so surprised by John being the one indulging him that he forgot his blocks and squealed happily, batting his hands at John's face. John chuckled and took the opportunity to feed Sammy his breakfast, which a surprised Sammy happily ate.
Dean looked on and smiled happily. He felt ecstatic on seeing his father laugh, it had been so long… he'd forgotten his Dad even could.
But Sammy was the little angel and a blessing to their family …that just kept giving. Like he'd saved Dean, he was probably going to save Daddy too.
John looked over at him and not wanting Dean to feel left out fed him his food too.
After the pleasant breakfast they moved to the living area, where John sat Dean down to complete his home school assignments and set Sam down with his toys. Sam loved playing with his shape blocks, it was a sure shot way of keeping him involved.
It was hard keeping the brothers apart, but for Dean to study, this was a bitter pill they would have to swallow.
When it seemed like they were both occupied John moved to the table to work on his research.
For a while things stayed silent. And his sons kept busy. John would go to check on Dean's work and was immensely pleased at his son's sharp sense of grasping whatever he was learning. With the right encouragement and environment he would easily be able to catch up on whatever he had lost out on in this year.
But it was only so long that he could keep Sammy away from his big brother.
When he looked up again sometime later. Sammy had abandoned his toys and was swiftly crawling towards his brother, who surprisingly was still occupied with his work.
John called out," Sammy! No…" and the little kid stopped midway, plopped down his butt and looked up at his father sheepishly. One glare from him and Dean whose attention had been driven to his brother went back to his studies.
Heaving a sigh, John got back to his research.
It happened a few more times again. Sammy would wait till his father went back to work to attempt the feat of reaching his brother again. Every time John looked up Sammy would sit back and give him a sneaky grin.
Once he caught him halfway towards his brother," Sam!" he bellowed curtly this time meaning to scare the child back to his place. But the sneaky rascal pretended to lower himself on the floor and looked up at his father as if to challenge and before John could react skittered away to his brother. Dean who had now put away his studies was sitting with arms open to pick him up.
John couldn't help but let out a laugh, genuinely amused at the child's antics. Smiled at how protectively Dean was hugging him, fearing his father's wrath. He made sure to look at Dean so his son could be assured his father wasn't angry at either of them and his son let out a snicker.
John couldn't help leave his work aside to spend some time with his sons. And they huddled on the couch watching cartoons.
His mind nagged at him, reminding him of the research, revenge and evil. But his sons were currently cuddling to him, finally trustful of him to seek comfort. Something he had thought he had lost. They needed him too. The evil wasn't going anywhere.
This had to be the best day he'd ever had in a long time. Dean thought. Dad was in such good spirits. Happy, playful and no trace of his usual anger. He had approved Dean's school work, made them breakfast, played with Sammy, then watched cartoons with them too.
Things were finally brightening in his life again and he desperately wanted to cling to the hope that things would only be better.
He never really asked for anything from his Dad anymore, not wanting to trouble. But today he felt brave enough to," Daddy?"
"Yeah kiddo?" Dad looked away from the cartoons on TV.
"Can we go to the park today?" he asked half expecting for Dad to refuse.
John thought over the request, not for a minute thinking about refusing. Who would it harm if they took a day off? Dean never asked for anything. The one time he'd gained enough confidence to do so, how could he refuse?
"Sure Dean-o….tell you what? We'll have our lunch and after Sammy's nap we can go to the park, is that okay?"
Dean beamed in excitement and hugged his father tightly around his waist," Thank you Daddy."
John hugged back, bending to kiss his head. "Give yourself and Sammy a bath, then get ready…" John said putting them both down. And for the first time in weeks Sammy clung to him, not wanting to part from him. Contrary to when he never wanted to leave Dean's side.
He kissed his little one and chimed," Bubble bath, go come on, "at that prospect Sammy happily jumped into Dean's arms.
This was the first day in months the dreaded fire and Mary's loss hadn't crossed either of their minds.
Dean put Sammy to sleep after lunch. It wasn't too hard, because all the fun and play had tired him out and his head kept drooping even while Dean fed him his lunch. Sammy whined when Dean continued to prod the spoon in his mouth, angry at being disturbed from his sleep.
So finally Dean had given up and put him down in his crib for the nap, waiting every second for time to pass quicker so they could go to the park with their Dad.
It had been ages since Daddy had played with either of them, or even taken them out for a day off.
Dad was okay it seemed, so he didn't have to worry if they'd be okay too.
At four after a bright eyed and now rested Sam woke up, Dean deftly dressed them both. Even finding Sammy's little sneakers from beneath his duffel, which the kid rarely got the chance to wear with being indoor all the time.
An eager Dean picked Sam and went out to find his Dad, to know if they could go to the park now.
The living area was eerily empty, so Dean went looking in Dad's room. But the living area was eerily empty…Dean held Sammy tighter and walked over to their Dad's room.
He nudged the door open with his elbow and had almost been at the brink of bounding into the room when he stopped short, noticing that Daddy wasn't getting ready to go to the park, he was getting ready for leaving …Again.
The next few minutes had passed like a blur, Dad had turned towards him, noticing him at the door, but even before he could have said anything Dean had known.
This wasn't the Dad who had remembered he had two sons alive, this was the Dad who had lost his wife.
Dad had gruffly explained that he had a job, it was urgent….Instructed him what he always did before he 'left'…'Watch out for Sammy, watch out for yourself, be safe, don't open the door for anyone but me…then added how if he didn't return the night he'd have one of his friends or their baby-sitter come there….Not a word of the park, no regret of going back on his promises…
And then he had left grumbling and Dean was sure he'd heard him say 'Shouldn't have wasted away the day today," before he swung the door shut.
This wasn't the first time this had happened, nor was it going to be the last. Dad left abruptly, came back suddenly. It didn't have to bother or hurt anymore, Dean thought.
But here he was sitting on the couch beside the window, looking out…clasping onto the moments he'd spent with his father the last few months, just that day itself…Trying to equate the image of the blunt and gruff person that had left them behind to the father who had spent the better half of the last few months promising them love, safety and his own presence.
Dean juggled between giving up and wanting to believe, that Daddy was just busy with work. He would be back soon, smiling and cheerful… just the way he had been this morning. He would take them to the park, maybe even for ice-cream to make up for leaving like this…and it would all be okay.
Would it be okay? Dean despaired. And he could only hope.
Dean got down the couch, moving over to the crib he had gotten out of the room to the living area to check on Sammy. Reassured that his brother was well and sleeping, he went back to take his place near the window.
The rest of the evening after their dad had left had been anything but pleasant. Dean had been dreary the whole time, but had mechanically gone about his routine with Sam….had changed him, fed him and finally put him to sleep.
His glumness had affected Sammy too, who had grown whinier and upset as he did if Dean wasn't himself. But Dean's own patience had worn thin and he had been unable to cheer Sammy like he would. He'd softly apologised to his brother but hadn't had the heart to fake happiness, when all he felt was dread and sadness.
The baby sitter, Liz who was as old as Mom had been, was a quiet lady. She wasn't stern or angry. But just went about her work quietly. He appreciated that, because she let him take care of Sam and only helped when he wanted her to. She was currently sitting across him on the couch near Sammy's crib and reading a book…not once had she asked him to sleep, or insisted he move away from where he had perched himself.
But the day's ordeal had exhausted him and he didn't even realize when sleep pulled him under.
Dean had been vaguely hopeful that his Dad would have been back the next morning, especially when he had woken up in bed covered with his quilt and Sammy laid down next to him, with pillows surrounding them so they didn't fall.
But the sounds of Liz moving around in the house gave away to disappointment. Dad wasn't back.
Unlike him Sammy wasn't sullen or holding onto the previous day's annoyance. He was all spit fire and a ball of energy once he woke up.
And in time Sam's spirit rubbed off on him too. The kid's delighted babbles and funny antiques making him smile and easing the knot his stomach was tied into.
Liz stayed there, watching over them, cooking their meals but giving them their space. And Dean decided he liked her. He never like the sitters who thought they knew about the both of them more than Dean did.
Dean went about his routine like every day. After washing up Dean placed Sammy amidst his toys on his play mat and down with his books to finish his day's assignment. But with his Dad not being around, he remained distracted watching out for Sammy every few minutes.
Giving up on his studies for the day, he went to sit with his brother who gave him a toothy grin, happy to have Dean around him.
Sitting across from him Sammy slid the soft ball he played with towards Dean, sitting on his diaper covered butt eagerly, wanting to Dean to throw it back. And Dean did.
The ball skittered a bit away from where Sammy was, but Dean didn't move, wanting the kid to make the effort.
Sam dragged himself on his rear, reaching the ball once again and pushing it with all his might to Dean, smiling excitedly.
This time Dean purposely threw it a bit far from Sammy making the kid tumble sideways to catch it. Warming up to the game of fetching the ball for his big brother, Sammy would let out a peal of laughter.
Dean couldn't help but laugh too, only to sombre a few minutes later, missing his Dad.
He was distracted and didn't look up for a while nor pass the ball. But when he next looked, his eyes widened in awe – Sammy was standing in front of the arm chair opposite to him, holding onto its seat. Sam's legs shook a little and Dean's protective instincts wanted nothing but to hold onto him. But he didn't.
He sat with a baited breath waiting for Sammy's possible first step.
Sammy intently concentrated on his task, gripping the chair by its edge and placed one foot in front of the other staring at them as if he hadn't known they could do what they were attempting to do then. Sam giggled at the feel of the cold floor below his feet and attempted to walk again….When he had taken two steps more he excitedly looked up at his big brother who was now smiling wider than he had ever before with his arms open for his brother to walk into.
It was as if that was all the encouragement Sammy needed because then he was walking with shaky legs straight into his brothers arms.
Dean hugged him close, cuddling and kissing him happily…Sammy responded likewise shrieking and leaving slobbery and wet kisses on his cheek.
Dean was so happy, he couldn't express his elation that his brother had finally walked," You did it Sammy, you did it…you walked," he spoke to his brother who answered in his baby talk as if he understood everything… making Dean laugh even harder.
He was so mesmerised by his brother's first feat, that it didn't matter that his Dad wasn't here to witness it or that their sitter Liz had finally smiled.
All he cared was for his brother, who was his entire world. And for now and a long time to come his life would be revolving around him.
Two days had become five and John hadn't come back. For the first four days he hadn't even called to let Dean know if he was okay or intending to be back anytime soon.
Dean had been frantic under the pressure of his worry for his Dad, of how he would take care of his brother all alone. But Liz had continued to be with them, impassive and ready if they needed. She had gotten them their supplies when they started dwindling. And Dean was sure she'd passed him a look of pity whenever he looked over to her.
When on the fifth day John had finally called, he had barely spoken… just gruffly enquired if he and Sam were okay. Then instructed him to look out for Sam and not be of any trouble to Liz. After speaking to the sitter shortly and giving her an emergency contact number, he had disconnected.
It should have hurt him. His father's cold demeanour, his absence and lack of concern. But surprisingly it didn't. It only left fear in its wake.
All that excitement when Dad was home, it was mostly lathered with fear of having him leave again. They pretended that they had a home, a family that was happy. But it was all facile. And Dean felt like he couldn't pretend anymore…Pretending sometimes hurt way worse than accepting that they'd never be the family they had been.
Five days had become eight and Dean, felt like the panic flaring in his gut would burn him away. He couldn't eat, it was painful to swallow the food Liz made for them, it felt like rocks in his stomach.
Even Liz who was normally quiet and aloof had broken her silence. She would try offering her care and support even when they didn't ask. She didn't stop at making them dinner and guarding them. She stayed there all day and night, not making any visits to her own home and other job. She would be by their side ready to offer anything they desired from her. A comforting hug, consoling words that felt like empty platitudes.
Dean was desperate to take her up on it, but he was scared to get close, knowing she'd be gone…just like everyone did.
It was becoming harder to fake playfulness for the sake of his brother. He would still put on his best smile for Sam, but later cried away his pain when his brother was asleep.
Sammy was perceptive and clued on his Big brothers moods easily. Which he probably had even despite Dean's best efforts to cloak them.
On the night of the seventh since John had left. Sammy wouldn't stop crying.
His cries were loud and painful.
Sammy hadn't eaten anything since after lunch and every time Dean tried feeding him his screams of protest would only get louder.
Mostly he wouldn't mind being handed over to Liz if Dean needed a moment but that day even the sight of her got Sam wailing.
Dean had tried playing cartoons that usually distracted Sammy, lured him by playing a game of peekaboo that normally had Sammy in splits, even made him suck on the candy Dean hid in his bag…but nothing had lured the child.
For a while Dean was sure that Sammy had taken sick. That unwelcome thought had terrified him.
How would he take care of Sam alone? How could he trust a baby sitter when right now he couldn't even find to trust his Dad?
Dean unwillingly passed Sammy to Liz, so he could call his Dad. He swallowed the lump in throat when Sammy leaned forward, almost dangling down from Liz's arms to reach down to Dean.
"D…." he mumbled through his whimpers. Sammy didn't talk much but he'd learnt lately to say Dean in the shortest syllable possible. Dean wished it had been at a better time, not through desperate cries and tears that were piercing his heart.
And Dean couldn't take it. He relented, telling Liz to call their Dad and took Sammy back in his arms
"I am right here Sammy, right here… "Dean comforted him…cradling his brother close to his chest. He hid his face in Sam's next and let the tears he had been reining in roll down.
"Sorry Dean, he isn't picking up," Liz's soft, sympathetic voice made him look up. He looked at her pitifully, not very surprised.
"Do you think Sammy's sick? He didn't have fever though, I checked…Could it be a stomach ache?" Dean softly implored.
Liz who had guarded many kids, knew well the tell-tale of a sick child and was sure Sam wasn't ill. The child could sense his brother's pain, fear and sadness and was reacting to it.
She didn't want to tell that to Dean though. The child rarely showed emotion. How could she tell him to quell what he felt…Especially since she was sure the child rarely got to express much of anything around his Dad?
"No Dean, don't worry son. Sammy isn't sick. He's just agitated that's all…a lot of kids get that way once in a while. I am sure he'll quiet down soon. Put on some music in the room, sing a little nursery rhyme…he'll be okay in a while hmm? He is always better when he's with you," she tried coaxing the child.
Dean nodded meekly and walked back to his room carefully holding onto his brother who was still crying silently in Dean's arms.
She usually tried staying detached from the kids she took responsibility of, to make her job easier. But this time around it was steadily getting difficult to be apathetic to these brothers. They had half a life, without a mother or any constant home. But even their Dad was more absent than present in their lives. She adored Dean for being the strongest child he was at his age. Holding fort at the age of five when his father away mostly away.
She felt awe witnessing the love between the brothers and also anger at John who had his priorities skewed.
It had been eight days since he had been away and had called to check on them only once. Did he not worry for his kids? He had told her to be there for them till he came without ever calling to ask about how they were getting along. She had been doing her job as best as she could but what if he never came back? These boys deserved better.
She would give it a day more, and if John didn't come back by then…. She would be left with no choice but to contact the CPS.
That night Dean didn't put Sammy down in his crib. He wanted his brother close.
Not that Sammy who had his arms tightly wound around him would have allowed it anyway.
He had entwined his pudgy arms around Dean's neck and cried in pleas, calling out his name…but unable to convey more.
"D…" he wept. Dean petted his back, kissing his head, "I am here, I am here Sammy…"
It had been a tough day….And a heart-breaking one too. Dean never liked when his brother cried but was also proud that Sammy would quieten down on being with him. But today no matter what he did Sammy had continued to wail and even Dean's best attempts to understand the reason of his brother's outburst had failed.
He was left with nothing to do but offer him his presence and all the love he could muster.
After washing up and changing, he had put Sammy in the bed with him, covering the empty side with pillows lest Sammy tumble down at night.
Sammy sure had quietened down a little, although Dean could still hear throaty whimpers from him. Dean had sung him his favourite song, the one that always put Sammy to sleep. But Sam had been so exhausted with crying all day that he had gone to sleep pretty quickly…though not without clutching Dean's arms as if his life depended on it.
Dean tried sleeping. He was tired and weary. But the thought of his father not returning to them and his confusion of Sammy's incessant crying that day kept him awake.
And then he'd heard it. He had made a trip to the washroom when he had heard whispers from outside the room….For a second he had been hopeful it was his Dad but then he'd peaked out of the room and found it was only Liz talking to someone on the phone softly.
He held onto the edge of the door, straining to hear….
And he wish he hadn't. He had heard the words CPS and mentions of the police with a white knuckled grip on the door.
Panic surged through him and he dashed back to bed, pulling his little brother as close to himself as it were possible.
He had come to trust Liz. But she was going to call the authorities on them. He didn't clearly know why, but maybe it had to do with Daddy being away.
The idea of taking Sammy and running away crossed his mind. But so did the certainty that he was too young to do so. He had no money to provide for anything Sammy would need. Out in the open, alone and hungry, how would they survive? No, he couldn't do that.
He wasn't much aware of how authorities worked. But he had overheard Dad talk about it to his friends…And he feared. What if they took them away from Dad? And… what if they separated him from his Sammy too? He had somehow survived without his mom, but he couldn't without his brother.
Tears seeped through his eyes and his body trembled with fear. Praying profusely for his Dad to be back next morning, Dean cried himself to sleep.
John sped the car down the highway, his hands clutching the steering wheel with a death grip.
He was constantly distracted by his sons who were currently sleeping on the seat behind him.
He had returned after nine days of being away from his family that morning. Traumatised by what he had witnessed, frustrated at his defeat, and remorseful of having abandoned his kids without a word of assurance…..John yearned to be with his kids, to be able to hug them close and bask in their presence.
What he had seen on the hunt had broken him further, if it had been possible.
It had been a fire, above another child's crib, like his Sam's who too was just six months old. The mom pinned to the ceiling which had burnt into flames. The father though, didn't have another son like John had Dean. And had been left alone with an infant to take care of with so many questions unanswered.
He had gone to meet the family under cover as an FBI agent, and the regaling of the incident had bought back his own memories. He had been able to relate and offer comfort. But even after lurking around the place for more than a week he had found no answers.
In those days away from his family though, he had pined for his sons. Still thanking his good fortune that he had something to look forward to, to live for. But who he kept disappointing.
He had thought of various ways he could explain himself, apologise to Dean for going back on his promises, of not being in touch. But he knew he had nothing to offer. He'd realised it over the few days he had been away.
No matter how many guarantees he gave them, he wouldn't be able to fulfil any. There would always be a hunt, a new evil phenomena to research and if he didn't understand it all how would he protect them? How would he avenge his Mary's painful death?
When he had dashed into their current retreat though, he had been faced with a very enraged Liz…She may have always come across as indifferent, but she had proven with her obvious wrath that she genuinely cared for the kids she took responsibility of.
On any other day that would have made John want to acknowledge and praise it in words, but at that moment he had no patience for it. He had retorted to her with the same tone as she had taken with him – asking her to mind her own business…he had paid her and shown her the door.
He was uncertain if she would report him to the CPS, and didn't want to wait to find out. Thus he'd quickly packed their meagre belongings into the car, while his sons still slept inside.
He prayed he could just shift his kids to the car without waking them up, not wanting to face them yet.
But when he had tried lifting Sammy up, Dean had startled awake, scrambling in a haste to protect his brother from an unknown threat.
And John would never forget the look on Dean's face. His face were clouded by something John couldn't have named. His walls had built up again, eyes shuttered and he had looked back at his father with disappointment and wariness.
John knew, that he couldn't ever regain the trust he had lost.
He wished he'd had the time to deal with it, assure or explain anything to his eldest. But it was vital to escape and he'd had to hastily order his son to get in the car.
Dean had done so, but surprisingly instead of sitting up front with him like he loved to he had taken seat next to his brother's booster.
And if there was any doubt that he had pushed his son away again, it was cleared.
John sat on the desk in the new room they had taken two states over from the last, nursing a cup of brew.
He wished for something much stronger, but he didn't even attempt fetching it. He had promised himself he wouldn't get drunk in the presence of his sons. And he would keep it.
Not that his sons would notice or appreciate it. Because right from when he'd picked them up and fled till now…they had only wanted each other.
They had traveled for a good eight or nine hours, stopping intermittently for pit breaks.
Sammy had for some reason been cranky all through the ride. At first John had thought he was ill, but Dean had explained with few words how he had been that way for over a day.
John had left it at that…because just as soon as Dean had freed Sam from the booster seat and taken him in his arms, Sam had calmed down. The child had nestled himself into Dean's arms and gone back to sleep while sucking on his thumb.
When they stopped for changing Sam, John had wanted do it himself. But when he had picked Sam up the kid had begun bawling. Reaching out of his arms towards Dean.
John had struggled, wanting to keep Sammy a bit closer, wanting to be the one doing the necessary for his child. But Dean was standing on his knees with arms raised expectantly and he had no choice but to let Sam go back to his brother.
His brows rose with surprise as Sam quietened down, his cries muffled and he snuggled closer," D…"
Amazed on hearing Sammy verbalising he asked Dean," Is that his first word?"
Dean who was trying to change Sammy, looked up briefly and nodded," His first word but not the first time," he informed him softly.
It should have been the happiest moment, to know his youngest had said his first word, but it was pitiful that he only felt bitterness for having missed witnessing it happen. Not that there was anyone to blame but him.
They had settled back in their seats again. And although John had been insistent Sam be strapped in his seat safely, he'd had to relent when Sam would do nothing but cry when drawn away from his brother.
He felt like an immature brat having a temper tantrum on seeing the brothers so co-dependent that they didn't need anyone else.
It wasn't like Dean was ignoring him, or being disobedient… far from it. Dean had retreated behind impermeable walls John had finally made a way through once before. And like the time before he had found solace in caring for his brother.
He looked over where the boys were laid on the bed and felt a pang of longing to be by their side. He desired for things to go back to how they were before he had left. Knowing that if he bared his heart to Dean, the kid would forgive everything.
He had to remind himself, that Dean wasn't holding grudges. He was weary, scared…a child trying to play the role of a man. A role he was being forced into his absence.
And for all that he wanted differently for his kids, he knew he needed Dean holding the fort behind him. Learning to take care of himself and Sam, alone.
It was unfair, but the only option.
John waited till Sam had slept. The child had been irritable all day. And distancing him from Dean would only make it worse.
When he went to their shared room an hour later, Dean was laying besides Sam, holding onto his brother's hand, leaning against his little shoulder. To anyone else he looked asleep but John knew his son was awake. His breath was laboured, hitching at times.
John couldn't take it anymore. He bent down, gently picking Dean in his arms…Dean stayed compliant and unmoving… But as soon as John made towards the door he jerked in protest.
"No Dad, not outside…I need to be with Sammy," he insisted and when John didn't stop he tried worming his way away from him.
"Dean stop!" John bellowed, halting Dean in his movements. He blinked at his father wide-eyed, then quickly looked away…mumbling a soft apology.
John sighed, he hadn't meant to frighten or hurt the kid anymore. But his patience thinned quickly these days. "Sam is fast asleep, we'll sit right there where you can see him okay?" John implored, softer this time.
Terrified of his father, Dean braved himself to refuse," I am sorry…. But I need to be with him. If he wakes up and I am not there he'll start crying again," Dean explained, voice wobbly. "He only just stopped now…. He's only been crying since yesterday Dad….." Dean paused, then pleaded, "Please?"
John wanted to hold onto Dean, demand he listen to him, and prioritise him over everything. But he had been the one handing over Sam to Dean. He had started it, asked for it and never stopped ever since….How could he ask the exact opposite of his eldest now?
He continued to stare at his son, but Dean? He had eyes only for his brother.
Giving up, John bent to kiss Dean on the side of his head," You know I am sorry… right? You know I wouldn't leave you and Sammy alone? I wouldn't do it ever… if I had any other choice?" John asked… feeling like a failure. He should have been the one reassuring, and here was seeking comfort from a five year old.
Dean just mutedly stared at his father, as if pondering and finally nodded. John nodded then put him down patting him once and allowing him to go back to his brother.
John turned to walk away but turned when he felt a tug at his pants," Dean? What's wrong kiddo?"
Dean shook his head, then slightly hugged his leg, and ran after mumbling a 'good night', leaving a smiling John feeling better than he had in days.
Dean lay in bed later that night. Wanting to fall asleep to the sound of his brother's steady and adorable snores. But he was wide awake.
He had felt utmost relief on seeing his father back today. Felt even better when they had fled, away from Liz, away from the fear of being parted from his family.
But he was yet to feel happy. In fact was scared to. Because he knew, Daddy would leave again… it was only a matter of time.
They stayed there for a few more days, would probably push it to a few weeks. John didn't want to risk being on the radar of the CPS, especially if they were on their tail.
Above all else, he needed to do this for his boys.
Dean was ever forgiving…. Sam, though was a different story. He was only just a year old and couldn't grasp on the reasons of his father's absence. In fact he had no understanding of a mother or father either. He was allured to love, tenderness and caring…and he went anywhere he got it.
Dean was his constant, and that is who Sam had accepted as his everything.
The brothers were a unit, forged unlike any two brothers he had seen…their bond fortified by loneliness and the lack of parental love.
John tried being part of the team…part of their routine. Wanting to help Dean study. Feed and change Sammy.
Dean the sensitive kid he was, allowed it. Even though John felt like he did it only to satisfy his father, not because he needed it.
Sam. Sam just wanted his brother. From waking up, to bathing. From breakfast, to being changed. From playing to being held when he was upset, Sam only wanted Dean.
It seemed as if in the ten days he'd been away, Sam had forgotten who his father was. Or more likely, found a mother and father rolled into one person. Dean.
The morning after they had settled in had been better than the night before.
It had been early, around seven in the morning when John had heard giggles from the adjoining room. He had been tempted to just barge in, join them rightfully. But he'd chosen to stand by the door.
Dean had laid down the bedspread on the floor and placed Sam right in the middle amidst his handful of toys. They were apparently playing a weird of game of ball. Dean would slide it across to Sam gently. John presumed Sammy would do the same in return. He trusted Dean to have taught it well to Sam like he always did with everything else.
But he was surprised when Sam, instead of throwing back the ball, tried getting up…His haunches upward, balancing himself with his hands…. till he stabilised himself enough to stand on his feet.
John stood there, stupefied. His son was taking his first step. He felt a mix of elation and disappointed. Elation to at least have witnessed this milestone, but disheartened that it wasn't towards him.
Nonetheless, he smiled looking at his son toddle on wobbly legs towards Dean, to drop the ball in his lap. Dean smiled, then clapped encouragingly," Good job Sammy, you didn't fall this time…you're getting better at this," he emphasised, his pride for his brother shining through.
He felt washed by more sadness. This wasn't his son's first steps. He hadn't been there to witness another of his son's firsts. Dean hadn't made a big deal out of it, but he knew Sam's first words had been just as special to behold.
This wasn't the first and it wouldn't be the last time he had missed out - what would have been a day of celebration in their home…had Mary been alive.
Normally John let his kids be. Either by choice or by compulsion. But his need to be closer to them won over.
John inched his way closer to them," Good Morning Deano," he sat down next to Dean, ruffling his head. Dean smiled at that, slightly leaning into his father's touch.
John smiled back, then leaned to tickle Sammy," Good Morning Sammy." The kid giggled at it but quickly crawled away…in no mood to entertain his father.
John took the ball they were playing with and threw it to Sammy, hoping his son would repeat the same actions as before, but instead walk towards him.
He told himself it wasn't jealousy. It was a fathers desire to be a part of his youngest sons every feat as he had been for his eldest.
Sammy held the ball in one hand and held the bed post with another to stand and began waddling. But to his dismay threw the ball at him and still toddled towards his brother, giggling all the way until he tumbled into his Dean's arms who embraced his brother gladly.
Dean turned to his father, the perceptive child that he was with a look of guilt, as if to explain his brother's action to 'their' father. John supressed a surge of annoyance at that.
He attempted to lure Sam towards him again," Come here Sammy…come," John called out, picking up a toy to coax his son. But Sammy shook his head with a shy smile and continued to snuggle into his brother's hold…hiding his tiny face in the hollow of Dean's neck.
When Dean tried prying him away so John could have him, Sammy began crying clinging harder to his brother, not understanding why he was being pushed away.
John sighed, moving to get up. Dean's eyes darted towards him in surprise, partly in guilt but John didn't have the heart to burden the child anymore and smiled at him.
"It's okay kiddo, it doesn't matter," he reassured, even if it was a lie and walked out of the room feeling gutted.
It had been weeks since they had shifted from their last home to this new town. John had tried. Tried really hard not to feel bitter or insecure about his kids bonding and needing more of each other than him. But had failed, failed to his pathetic, arrogant and unreasonable thoughts.
It wasn't like they were ignoring him. Dean, although broken and weary from having to grow up beyond his age forgave him every time he walked out. John knew Dean was obedient enough to never ask questions. But John always explained himself nonetheless.
This time though, he'd felt something changed. His son hadn't been hopeful, this time he'd seemed resigned. As if he had accepted this as his new reality and given up on the faith of ever getting his life back.
John's patience ran thin and he had oscillated between wishful and bitter on being kept on the edge of a new family that had formed in his own – one that existed only between the brothers.
After the hunt he had gone through, the loss he had relived he had had vivid realisations about valuing his own….all the while knowing he could never have it entirely the same either.
But even then, his sons unintentionally drifting away from him, made him feel unwanted. He felt unjustified anger rise within. The kids were just five and one, and already didn't need him. He couldn't imagine how worse it would feel when he would be away longer, when the hunt for his wife's murderer would pick speed.
In a way, he thought. This was better. That Sam and Dean had already begun making their own world, where they were each other's biggest and probably only support. They would need that more than ever in the near future.
But none of it assuaged the bitterness in his heart. Even knowing how childish and misplaced it was.
Sammy was too small to realise anything. His innocent instincts perceived Dean as his constant and trusted him for everything. Hence had refused John's every offer of cuddling, playing, feeding and changing.
But what wounded John's ego the most was, the lack of hero worship from Dean towards him.
Dean even in the throes of his grief for Mary had never stopped looking to him for guidance. His eldest had been upset, curious and confused… but he had still trusted John to protect and take care of both him and Sam.
But he had seen that worship dimmed in his eyes. Now he only saw doubt, and helplessness…even fear. But more for the uncertainty of Sam and his future than for anything else.
And he didn't have answers for any of it.
So he had bolted. As his usual habit when he couldn't face something, he found his escape in a nearest bar, drowning his problems in continual glasses of strong liquor.
John drank that night…in self-pity, due to unmerited irritation at his circumstances, to dissolve the feeling of loneliness.
He let himself be intoxicated to point of no return, letting his ego and hurt be fanned into full blown rage….deciding his future course.
He had lost his wife, his family, his home and his job. But he wouldn't lose his kids. He would make sure his kids knew what he did when he was away. How he was striving to protect them and avenge their mother's death.
He would tell Dean tonight, what a hero his father was, who bore the truth of the evil so they didn't have to... He would tell his five year old the truth of the darkness. He would force Dean to face his new reality, his new future….
Fighting evil, training to be a soldier for the war ahead…..to protect his brother.