Chapter Thirteen – A Soldier's Story

Morning truly brought a new day as the last tense days were swept away, relegated to the trash heap with the Winchester brothers starting anew like they were so accustomed to doing. Dean was a master at starting fresh, leaving the pain behind and focusing on what new adventures lay in wait. He was left with only two thoughts pressing on his mind: when Shelly and he would finally connect in that biblical sense and fulfill the silent promise of Rosanna's wild legacy, and when Dad would return from his own job so they could head out on a new hunt together. He only hoped he accomplished the first before the second came about.

Sam was observing him, still gauging whether or not all had truly been forgiven and forgotten. The way Dean handled things was a wonder to behold. Last night he had settled in and roared with laughter at the antics of Murray and Aykroyd, and he appeared to be back to his old, reliable, pain-in-the-butt self that Sam was so used to rolling his eyes at, but still Sam intently watched him listening between the lines for subtle clues. Trouble was he couldn't pick up any signs of hidden trauma or residual aftereffects from this possession. Dean was simply back to being Dean. And that was good, right?

Dean was on the phone with the owner of the theater and it appeared to be going well. The owner seemed pleased the disturbance was finally gone and was even throwing in some free movie passes in addition to the final payment for the job. Dean assured him it was over and hung up the phone.

"Hey, Sammy, free passes!" Dean winked and madly grinned. "How about we take in a good movie now? A little bonus for all our pain and suffering!"

Sam returned the smile, relieved that all seemed to be back to normal… that is, as normal as it ever gets for us.

The brothers relaxed into their regular routine: Dean teasing Sam unmercifully, Sam loudly complaining about it, and them ending up in either a verbal battle of one-upmanship or else tussling about on the bed or floor, or both, in a wrestling match that Dean with his experience, skills, and well-defined muscles inevitably won. Sam often came out on top in the verbal exchanges, or so he thought… His superior brainpower seemingly giving him an unfair advantage, but it was aggravating that even when he thought he'd won, Dean still appeared oddly content with just a whisper of a smirk always present, like he was privy to an inside joke. His eyes glimmering with an unspoken secret, delighting in continuing to torment his kid brother with doubts, even when it was apparent the battle was over. When given the choice of which battle to wage, Dean always seemed to push for the physical confrontations, taking perverse satisfaction in hearing his brother utter the dreaded "uncle".

They spent their time waiting for Dad to return by watching TV, eating vast quantities of junk food, and engaging in their brotherly bonding moments. Dean was still not quite ready to set foot in the theater to use the free movie passes and Sam didn't push it. If that was the only reminder of what had recently transpired than he could live with old movies on the boob tube. When the TV entered the dead zone of soap operas and Oprah, Dean cleaned and oiled his entire collection of guns and knives, and Sam read.

Both were about ready to crawl out of their skins from boredom and a persistent dread when John finally arrived back at the motel later that night. After the perfunctory pleasantries, like what Dad killed on his hunt and whether Dean had received payment in full for their job, they tackled the finer points.

"So, you didn't know?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, his eyes hooded and solemn before he looked his dad straight in the eyes. "Nope. Not a clue."

John opened up his journal to a blank page and started scribbling notes. "So, you didn't remember what happened when you were… " He cleared his throat as he looked away. His hand gripped the pen tighter as he concentrated on scratching out a doodle on the page. He looked up and studied his son as he continued, "So, you didn't know what you were doing when you were possessed?"

"Kinda, but not really. It's hard to explain… " It was obvious Dean was still struggling to figure out what exactly had happened, and how to justify it to his dad; feeling like he'd let him down, by being a victim or something. "I'd wake up with this dreamlike feeling, like I knew what I'd just done, but I didn't understand why. It didn't feel real… " His voice trailed off, soft and low, "I just didn't understand."

"You know, Dean, if you'da opened up a little about how you were feeling when this thing possessed you instead of just whining about the movie then maybe we could've figured this bitch out."

The words came out too harsh and unsympathetic, not at all like John intended, but they were already out there and he couldn't take them back, wouldn't know how to take them back.

Dean averted his eyes, not wanting to face his dad and the bitter truth in the unkind words, never wanting to expose how he felt… not down deep… that was too personal, too revealing.., too weak… not Dean Winchester's way at all… Sure not how I was raised.

"Dad, I know… believe me, I know… I just… "

John looked up cautiously watching his son, his intense eyes almost burrowing down into the core of his being. "Dean, what?" Silence met him, and frustrated he raised his voice, "Dean, what?"

The answer was small and disturbing. "I didn't want to disappoint you."

John rubbed at the stubble on his chin and he felt his anger rising. His sons were sitting there staring at him.., waiting.., anticipating the reaction they both feared was coming. Sam looked defiant, like any moment he would jump up out of his seat to defend his brother.., a fierce warrior ready to protect his comrade against all peril, taking on his dad in another nasty Winchester brawl. Dean simply looked lost, standing his ground, but steeling himself for the coming reprimand. Somehow accepting that he deserved whatever punishment his dad deemed appropriate.

His eyes gazed upon his dad with such sadness and pain, and it reminded John of that night… that terrible, terrible night, when Dean had displayed both of his sons' responses… fiercely protective of his baby brother, pulling him from the fire and holding on so tightly, while simultaneously devastated by the terror of seeing his mom die and the fears of a four-year-old child, uncertain and scared; a shattered child morphing into his little man in the course of a few months, taking on the responsibility of his family, so much older and bolder than his years warranted.

And now it was Sam who suddenly looked so much older, on the verge of becoming a man; a man who was ready to protect his big brother, sitting close by his side in solidarity, willing to take on all comers.

John hated what this life had done to his children.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. "Sammy, run down to the corner and get us some snacks… It's gonna be a long night."

Sam hesitated, his jaw set and he almost spoke up to argue before Dean broke in, "Cheetos and some more beef jerky, 'kay?" He offered a glimmer of a smirk and his eyes pleaded with Sam to just leave. "And you're almost out of pop. Guess, beer's a pipe dream with that baby face." He offered a faint smile with a brief flash of his dimples before he fell silent. Sam stared back at him and the brothers exchanged silent communication, no further words needed to understand the situation… I don't want you here when Dad rips me a new one. "You better hurry, bro. I think the market closes at ten."

"Dean? You sure?"

"Yeah, Sammy, go. Oh, and how about some peanut M & M's? I see you found my stash." His eyes maintained contact for just a moment before blinking and looking down again. "And some tic tacs, the white ones."

John's heart swelled as he watched his sons… brothers, always protecting each other. At least I did that right… somehow.

"Sammy, take your time… We'll be here," John added. He watched as his youngest walked out the door with one last, quick look of support towards his brother. Dean smiled in response and then straightened up, his shoulders solid and set, his hands firmly placed flat on top of his thighs as he returned all focus to his dad, staring straight into his eyes, ready for whatever harsh words his father felt were warranted.

John's gut twisted at the sight.

Dean took in a deep breath and continued with his story, calmly relating the facts, never shying away from his own failings, while painting Sam as a shining knight, sure and steady, rushing in to save the day. "Dad, I shoulda known, but I didn't… Sammy was the one to figure it out. You shoulda seen him, Dad. He was awesome. If not for him forcing his way onto the job… "

John grunted and looked away, moisture wetting his eyes as he considered how he'd left his son alone to face this simple job, and how it all could have blown up in their faces… How without Sammy interfering... anything could have happened… and almost did.

Dean faltered when his dad couldn't even bear to look at him. I deserve it! I let things get out of control… "Dad, I'm sorry I screwed up. I know you're disappointed and you should be… but you can be proud of Sam. He did good, Dad." His mouth twisted as he tried to hold his emotions in check, concentrating on reporting the facts like the good soldier. "He figured out how to stop Jackson and he saved me, he saved Shelly… he's the hero here."

John blinked back his tears and turned to face his son. "Yeah, Sammy did good, real good." He offered up a weak grin, his dimples evident as he licked his lips and tried to stay focused. "So, you think he's got what it takes?"

Dean's face almost cracked from the huge smile that broke out consuming his features. "Absolutely!" He nodded his head in excitement. "He needs more discipline, but he's smart, Dad. He thinks on his feet and he didn't get rattled. He kept his cool and thought it through just like you always taught us."

"Sounds like he's got the right stuff." John released a contented, raspy laugh and his face lit up with pride. "A regular chip off the old block."

Dean swallowed hard and managed to maintain his smile, only the slightest quiver of his bottom lip betraying his hurt. "Yeah, Dad, he's your son alright. You can be proud."

John was considering his youngest now. He knew Sammy hated the life, fought the jobs, but this was promising. He knew it all came about because of his devotion to his brother, but at least it was proof he could do the job if he wanted to. Absorbed in his own thoughts, he failed to notice the anxiety creeping across Dean's face.

"Yeah, I'm proud of him, but don't you go blowin' smoke up his ass. He's already too damn big for his britches. Don't need him getting any more full of himself," he cautioned Dean.

"Just tell him he did good, will ya, Dad? He deserves that much."

John considered the request and nodded. I can do that. After all, I need him to be more eager for the hunt, maybe now that he's gotten a taste for it… He looked up and casually observed his older son again. Dean was quiet, staring at his hands as he twisted his silver ring around his finger until it appeared it would spin right off, a slight clench in his jaw that subtly twitched. Something seemed off, but he couldn't quite figure it out. Dean always was a mystery. Larger than life and full of boundless energy when he was up, after a hunt or when he came home from a night on the town, and then quiet and brooding on those rare occasions when he retreated into himself and disappeared. When he just didn't seem like Dean. It was during those times that John was reminded of that four-year-old child in the weeks following the fire. He didn't know how to handle Dean's grief then, and he sure as hell didn't know how to deal with his sullen moods now.

He cleared his throat. "I'm glad he was there for you."

Dean looked up and nodded. "Yeah, me too."

There… what was that? Just a slight tremor in his bottom lip, a nervous twitch, barely noticeable. God, I wish I could read him, understand him… make him communicate... His eyes… God, what is that look in his eyes?

John was more confused than ever. Dean wanted him to be proud of Sam and he was… so what's his deal?

"So, how about you? You alright?"

Dean looked up with just a wisp of a smile, while his eyes still held a darkness, a pain undefined. "Me? Sure, Dad. I'm good."

John smiled. Hell, that's true enough. Never have to worry about Dean.

Dean sat on the bed, his hands twisted together nervously clasping and releasing, digging at his jeans, in constant motion, but still waiting.

Waiting for what?

A nagging guilt lingered in John's mind, a father's regret at not handling a crisis quite like he should have. Hindsight is 20/20. The problem is, even looking back; I'm still not sure with Dean. Sammy's an open book; you know when he's upset… Dean always seems fine, but is he? Is he really?

"Dean.., I'm sorry."

Dean's eyes blinked and his mouth contorted as he nervously wetted his lips, lightly chewing on them. He leaned forward; sure he'd misheard his dad, confusion muffling his voice as he gasped, "What?"

John rolled his eyes to ward off more tears and his dimples deepened over an anxious smile. "You're not gonna make this easy on me, are you?"

Dean still looked confused, his mouth releasing a soft gulp as his brain failed to register what was happening. This was starting to have all indications of a chick-flick moment and that just didn't happen, not with Dad. He waited; sure he must be misinterpreting what was actually going on here.

"Dean, I said I'm sorry. I should have known something was up with you. You've never wimped out on a job before. I should have known somethin' wasn't right. You weren't yourself, I know that now. I never should have left you on your own."

God, it's happening… it's really happening. Wow.., just, wow!

It was all so unexpected and it knocked the wind out of him for just a second, before a wave of distant emotions washed over him. Overwhelming feelings of relief, wonder, joy, and serenity enveloping him and his face lit up from the rare tenderness and warmth filling the room, embracing him like all the hugs and kisses from his life before, when Mom and Dad would wrap him up within the love of his family. The contentment only lasted a few precious moments before Dean tensed from the hurt expression lingering on his dad's face, the tender gaze of his eyes, and the nervous clench of his jaw. Almost immediately, all he could think of was to comfort his dad and ease his guilt.

"Dad, c'mon. How could you know? Jackson was a slippery sonofabitch. Hell, I didn't know."

"Dean, he was possessing you. You wouldn't know. I should have been inside the theater with you. I shouldn't have left you alone."

Dean smiled at his dad's attempt at an apology. It wasn't necessary and it certainly wasn't expected… but it was nice. A nice change for the Winchesters. God, it feels good.

"Dad, I wasn't alone. Sammy was there. You were right about that. Sam did good. He's a hero. He saved me and everything turned out alright."

John smiled, that's my boy… always looking out for his family. "Yeah, everything turned out alright. So, are you really okay with all this?"

"Me?" Dean smiled, confident and sure, his best smile from his repertoire, determined to not disappoint his dad any further than he already had. "I'm always alright, Dad… You know that."

John smiled, his eyes glistening with a hundred emotions, pride in his sons, both of them… but also anxiety from the terror of what might have been. Somehow they always managed to overcome whatever tried to take them down and this was no different. He wasn't sure if it was skill or luck or just plain-ass stubbornness, but whatever it was, he was grateful they'd managed to dodge one more bullet and his sons were okay… better than okay, his son's were warriors.

--

By the time Sam returned with the bag of munchies, father and son were stretched out on the beds drinking the last of the beer and laughing. Dad looked completely at ease and Dean looked happy, truly blissed out. Sam made a show of checking the number on the room as he closed the door, unsure whether he had the right room. This certainly wasn't what he was expecting to return to. Dean jumped up and dug through the bag pulling out his M & M's and throwing the tic tacs by his bag for later. He was feeling more like his old self and he had a lady in distress waiting for him… Yeah, tomorrow is definitely looking up.

He plopped back down on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. "So, Sammy, we're voting on what movie to watch."

"Yeah? What's on?" Sam sat down on the bed next to his brother and picked up the remote ready to flick on the TV.

"Not on the tube, you boob!" Dean joked.

Sam looked quizzically at his brother and then shot a quick glance at his dad. John was smiling from ear to ear. "You're kidding me?"

Dean wiggled his eyebrows and smirked in response.

"NO WAY!" Sam again looked toward his dad. "Really? We're gonna use the passes… all of us?"

John shifted on the bed, stuffing a pillow behind his back up against the headboard. "Free passes, Sammy. Since when do we pass up free stuff?"

"But the movies? It's just… well, y' know."

"What?" John defensively muttered. "I'll admit, it has been awhile, but I used to go to the movies all the time with your mother. Right, Dean?"

Dean cackled, "Yeah, but this time's for pleasure, not pain." Then he leaned forward and winked at his dad. "Of course, you're on your own finding dessert afterwards. I got my own little taste treat lined up, but big daddy's all on his own." Dean displayed his most deviant, wild-sex-on-his-mind smirk.

Sam simply stared at his family, gathering the gist of the conversation, but not entirely sure he wanted to know all the gory details. Being exposed to Dean's exploits was enough to do him; he certainly didn't want any details on Dad and Mom… or whomever. Hoping to steer the conversation back to a PG rating he jumped back in. "So, what's the choices?"

"Nic Cage."

"Huh?"

"Well, ya gotta have action and there's only two action flicks playing, and ol' Nic's the man. We've got Con Air or Face/Off." Dean smiled as he ripped open the bag of M & M's. "Guess Nic cornered the market on tough guys this month."

John spoke up, "So what are they about?"

"Beats me, but I bet he kicks ass," Dean answered with a nonchalance that indicated plot wasn't as important as intense action.

Sam got up and moved to the laptop sitting on the small table by the window. "If you wanna know what they're about check the net." He quickly pulled up a screen and silently read, knowing Dean would only want the condensed version. When he finished he turned back to his family as he sat down on the bed again. "Con Air is about some convicts being transported to a prison and they break free."

Dean quickly responded, "Cool Hand Luke, modern days… sounds good!"

"How about the other one?" John asked.

"Well, first off it's got John Travolta."

"Vinnie Barbarino?" Dean asked in wonder.

John interrupted, "Who?"

Dean laughed, "One of the sweat-hogs."

"The what?"

"Nevermind, Dad. It doesn't translate."

"So, Sammy, what's it about?"

"About some Fed trying to figure out where the bad guy planted a bomb that's gonna destroy LA. Something about they switch faces so he can impersonate the guy."

"What, like a shapeshifter?"

"No, like science, Dean. They do an operation to change one guy to look like the other."

"Yeah, like a shapeshifter," Dean reiterated.

"Yeah, whatever."

"So, what are the reviews?" John questioned, joining back into the family discussion.

Dean scoffed, "Reviews? You mean what the critics have to say?"

"Yeah, which one got the best reviews?"

"Who cares? Critics are just frustrated writers that can't get a job making movies so they put down those that do."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. "Cynical, much?"

"Hey, it's the truth. Them that can, do… and them that can't, criticize… " Dean laughed then, totally enjoying his next thought, "or sit on the sidelines watching."

Sam again rolled his eyes and huffed. Typical Dean, yep, he's back, as obnoxious as ever!

Since Dean had already voted, John turned to Sam. "So, Sammy, which one strikes your fancy?"

"I dunno. Either sounds good, but it says Con Air has some awesome special effects. The plane crashes on the strip in Vegas."

Dean's eyes grew wide and he sat up with a start. "It has a plane crash?" he squeaked out.

"Yeah, why? Oh, and I forgot, it also stars John Cusack."

Dean's eyes flashed at that comment and he quirked his brows. "Isn't Cusack in all those girly flicks?" His voice barely containing his obvious contempt.

"I dunno, I guess."

"But this is an action flick?"

"Yeah."

"You're kidding me, right? You're just messin' with me? I mean Cusack in an action flick?" Dean scoffed.

"Yeah, I guess. Maybe he wanted to change his image."

"I'll bet. Who'd want to be in all those chick flicks, except maybe Leo?"

"So, you changing your vote or what?" Sam challenged.

Dean tensed. Ain't no way I'm watching a plane crash… Nope. No way, Jose! "Well, I'm thinkin' we need to go with Travolta. I mean after Pulp Fiction, the guy's cool again. Way cooler than Cusack."

John smiled at his son's reasoning. Dean was a good hunter, and a part of that was he always saw things slightly off-center, from a different angle than most, using a fresh perspective to attack a job. It was a gift that had saved his ass on more than one occasion. John didn't question it, he'd just learned to appreciate it and depend upon it. "Well, Sammy, it works for me if you're game."

Sam got a mischievous grin on his face and couldn't resist one little, caustic comment, just to spice things up. "Well, since Dean was the one being tortured in the dark chambers of the theater… I guess it's fair he picks the movie."

"Okay, that's it!" Sam barely got his comment out before Dean tackled him, pushing him off the bed and pinning his face into the smelly motel carpet, laughing as he did it. "I told you, dude. You better start working out more or your face's gonna be permanently plastered in the carpet."

"Dean, you're such a jerk."

"Maybe," he chuckled, "but I'm not the bitch laid out on the floor. Come on, Sammy, might as well drop it and move on." Dean's face was filled with true joy, a stark contrast from just an hour before. "Better say it, bro."

Sam struggled, refusing to mutter the dreaded word. He curled up his lips in a friendly smile and twisted his head up to gaze on his brother as he gasped out, "Auntie Em."

Dean chuckled. "Nice try, but you're a little confused there, dude. Do I have to explain the birds and the bees again? You know, sex and all that jazz?"

John smiled at his sons' antics. They were gonna be alright, they'd survived and they were together. I can't ask for more than that.

Dean was laid out across his brother's back, holding him down and relaxing. Sam was still squirming and you could hear heavy breathing.

This could take some time.

Sam grunted again before offering up another witty response. "Auntie Mame?"

"Go ahead, be a smartass… I got all night."

TBC