A Perfect Circle
Summary: Bobby was there, John wasn't. Tag to NRFTW
He was getting too old for this, Bobby decided, as he caught the strain of a primal, terrified scream, and Sam was too damn young.
John was the lucky one, he concluded. He'd mourned a loss, sure. Hell, Bobby knew what it felt like to lose the other half of you…that wasn't the sort of loss that you ever come back from.
Bust John was the lucky one—he wasn't the one who had to watch the downfall of his boys.
Blood isn't everything.
He loved them like the sons he never had, and once upon a time thought he would. He figured it was the only sane explanation for why he stuck around to help them fight, even after he realized it was helpless and they were all just falling down a trail of sorrow, and loss, and a pile of what if's.
John didn't see the beginning. He did see the fear that both sons kept buried deep, to only occasionally breach the surface, when they became terrified that just maybe Sam's destiny couldn't be prevented.
John didn't watch Sam die, or see Dean awkwardly cradling his baby brother's lifeless body in his arms, whispering a barely spoken mantra of
I'msorrysammyI'msosorry
John never had to watch Dean stay up for days
Sun up.
Sun down.
Sunrise.
Sunset.
Days straight, staring at Sam sometimes saying nothing for hours and hours, other times reminiscing, other times promising to put it right.
But he couldn't, not really.
And neither could he.