Dean's first taste into the world of monsters and the reality of hunting. And of course there is some discipline.
The Boy Who Cried Wolf
John Winchester zipped up his duffel bag full if supplies that he would need that night. He quickly tidied up as the thumping and shouts from the next room began to escalate. He opened the bedroom door and walked the short distance to the living room where his two sons; Dean age 10 and Sam age 6 were wrestling on the floor. As he stood watching he was trying to figure out if the match was friendly or malicious. He finally shook his head and whistled causing the boys to stop in middle of their battle to look up at the source of the noise. They saw the distressed look on their fathers face and quickly let go of each other and jumped up.
"You two are making quite a racket out here," John said as he ran his hand over his face.
"Sorry sir," his eldest said his head down.
"I'm hungry," Sam complained.
"Well then I guess I better make some dinner," John answered.
Dean was working on his homework while Sam lent a hand with the dinner preparations.
As Dean slogged through his grammar homework he couldn't help but wonder what his dad had been working on his bedroom. He knew his dad was in a different line of work and he knew it was dangerous, but John would never share any details with him. He could hear the laughter and banging of pots and pans in the kitchen as he slipped out of his room and tiptoed across the hall to his father's bedroom. He took a deep breath and gulped down the saliva that had suddenly flooded his mouth. He saw the bag next to the bed and as he checked behind him he fell to his knees next to it. He slowly unzipped the bag and began to sort through the contents. There were maps and bottles of water and knives and a gun, a big gun. Dean's eyes grew wide as held the heavy weapon in his hands. Dean carefully set the gun back in the bag and as he pulled out the map that had a nearby area circled he then saw a container that held several shiny silver bullets. He ran his fingers over the clip again and again. What was Dad planning to do he wondered. He was pulled out of his trance when he heard John call to him that dinner was ready. He was a flourish of activity as he tried getting everything back into the bag and get it zipped before his father came looking for him.
Sam was his usual gabby self at dinner; jabbering on and on about school and the cartoon he had watched after school. Dean just stared into his plate as his mind raced with thoughts about his father would be encountering that night. John noticed his eldest son's behavior and asked if he was okay.
"I'm fine Dad, just tired," he mumbled.
John shook his head not believing his son but not knowing what else to say. Dean finally asked to be excused leaving John with the babbling Sam.
It bothered John that he couldn't connect with Dean. He hadn't really kept up his parenting skills as Dean had grown. These were the types of things that Mary would've handled. She had the touch that would be oh so helpful in these situations. John was good at making demands and disciplining but getting in touch with feelings was not in his bag of tricks. He made one last attempt as Dean prepared for bed, but Dean refused his attempts to gain any information.
He had given Dean the usual instructions that he gave when he would be out for the night. Dean nodded but avoided looking John in the eyes. Something was off but he just didn't have time to sort it out now.
After John's departure Dean tossed and turned got out of bed and checked on Sam who was sleeping soundly deep under the covers. He then found himself standing in his father's room. He turned on the light and went to sit on the bed. He climbed up onto the bed and grabbed the pillow and felt the tears forming in his eyes. He had no idea why he was crying but the tears just came. He was worried about his dad he was worried about his little brother and he was missing his mom terribly. He knew it all went back to that night, the night the fire roared through his house and his mother died; the night he carried his tiny brother out into the dark. After the tears ran their course he noticed a glint from something on the floor that caught the light. He hopped off the bed and quickly fell into a panic as he saw the clip full of silver bullets that he had held earlier that night. His breathing became louder and his heart pounded as he realized he must not have gotten the clip back into the bag earlier. He was in full panic mode sure that he had sealed his father's death by being nosy and getting into his father's things. He had to get this clip to his dad no matter the consequences. If anything happened to John it would be all his fault and Sam would hate him forever. He remembered the area that had been circled on the map and knew exactly where it was.
He quietly snuck back into his room and dressed in the clothes he had worn earlier that day. He checked on Sammy one last time and carefully closed and locked the door behind him. He walked several doors down to where an 11 year old boy named Max lived. They had played together until one day when Max called Sam a baby and Dean decked him. They hadn't played since, but Dean did know that he had a bike in the garage and that the side door was always unlocked.
Dean pedaled like mad to the location on the map. He saw the Impala parked in an inconspicuous spot off the road; he left the bike next to the car and began heading into the park. The night wasn't terribly cold but Dean found himself shivering as he passed by the edge of the woods. The area was open with tennis and basketball courts, picnic pavilion and playground equipment. John had brought the boys here many times already to burn off that excess energy that all boys seem have. Dean recognized instantly where he was and began to walk towards the edge of the park where the trees became thick. He felt as though his heart was in his throat and he was struggling to keep his breathing even. He wished he could just find his dad. Even though he knew he would be in big trouble for being out in the middle of the night and for leaving Sammy alone Dean just wanted to find his dad. After what seemed like hours he was cold and decided that he would never find John on his own. Besides he needed to get back to his little brother in case he woke up. Dean had his head down and his hands in his pockets wandering in the general direction of the road. He was lost in his own head when he suddenly heard a twig snap, his brain hoped it was John, but his gut knew it wasn't. He forced himself to look up and what he saw was the things nightmares were made of. The creature that stood over him was half man half wolf with large teeth that dripped saliva that landed at Dean's feet. The stench was awful and caused Dean to gag. The claws that protruded from the hands or paws were as sharp as the knives in the drawer he wasn't allowed to touch. The only thing that Dean could think of was how disappointed his father would be that he disobeyed him and how scared Sammy would be when he woke up in an empty house. He closed his eyes as tightly as possible, clutched the clip securely in his hand and waited for the monster to attack. He could feel the hot, stinky breath get closer and then he heard a sharp crack in the night air. It sounded like a big tree branch breaking. He dared not move and continued to wait for the imminent assault. He had no idea how long he had been hunched in that position but time held no meaning for him.
John had been tracking the werewolf for several hours but could never close the gap between the two of them. The wind kept shifting and the moon had danced in and out of the clouds all night making it difficult to get a good line on the monster. John figured he had a couple more hours left before he would need to head back home and get the boys up for school. He had followed the trail to the edge of the tree line and as he emerged from the woods he thought he saw the beast on the other side of the park. As he quickly and quietly moved towards the werewolf he thought he detected another form. The moon popped back out from behind a cloud and John's fears were confirmed there was someone huddled at the beast's feet. It was a small outline most likely that of a child. He wasn't sure if he could get a good shot from his location, but he knew he needed to hurry. He looked up at the sky and saw that the cloud cover would soon again intrude on his light source. As he ran towards his mark he couldn't help but think who would allow their child to be out at this time of night. He quickly looked to the sky and knew he had only a moment; he stopped and planted his feet and raised a steady arm. The shot echoed in the night and the werewolf fell backwards away from the child. John began to run again and reached the scene quickly. He put one more bullet into the creature's heart to ensure success and then turned to the child.
John looked down preparing his words to comfort the youngster when his world stopped. He blinked and swallowed and then did it again. He knelt down and saw that the sobbing child was his own.
John had a million thoughts racing through his head as he carried his son to the car. He held his son tight, consoling him for quite a while until he looked down and saw that his exhaustion had finally taken over and pulled the boy into sleep. John carefully laid Dean down in the backseat and locked the doors. He then stowed the bike in the trunk and disposed of the werewolf. Thankfully Dean was still asleep when he returned. John just sat behind the steering wheel unable to move; it was only when he relaxed that the tears came. His whole body shook as he let his pain and fear out as quietly as he could as to not wake his son in the backseat.
John put the borrowed bike back in the neighbor's garage and then carried his sleeping son into the rental house. He had neither the energy nor the desire to deal with Dean's indiscretions at the moment. He gently pulled off his sons coat and pants and placed the still sleeping child in his bed. He then stepped over to his youngest son's bed and pulled the covers up to his chin and was very grateful that the 6 year old slept through the whole ordeal. John then set the alarm on his watch and crashed on the couch.
After dropping Sammy off at school explaining to his young son that his brother was sick and staying home; he returned and tried to focus on what he might say to his eldest son when he woke up. He was angry and upset and terrified all at once and had no idea how to handle it.
His thoughts were swirling as if a tornado had made its way into his head. He was reaching out for his sons but couldn't grab them. They were just out of his reach and no matter how hard he tried they eluded his grasp. His world was forever dark, until he opened his eyes and saw Dean standing over him.
"I'm hungry Dad," the boy said rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"I bet you are. I'll tell you what lets gets some lunch and then we are going to have a long talk about what happened last night," John explained.
"I'm in big trouble aren't I Dad?" the youngster asked.
"Yes Dean you are," John assured him.
After they polished off their sandwiches and milk the Winchester men sat down on the couch to discuss the very important matters before them.
John began the conversation. "Dean what made you go out last night?"
The boy seemed unable to move or look at his father.
"I asked you a question son," John pushed.
"I, I got into your bag and the bullets were on the floor after you left and I didn't want you to get hurt so I was going to bring you the bullets but then I couldn't find you and that monster showed up and I thought I was going to get killed," Dean said in a rush.
John put his hand underneath Dean's chin and forced the boy to look at him.
"What were you doing in my bag?" he asked.
"I just wanted to see what you were going to do. I know I'm not 'posed to, but I did and I'm sorry. I got scared and must not have gotten everything in the bag and I didn't want you to die so I snuck out to help you," Dean finished as the sobs began.
John slid the crying boy over to him and put his arm around the trembling body. He just held and comforted him for a while before he launched back into his speech. "Son there is a reason that I do my job alone, that you and Sam can't come with me. There are also reasons why my things are private and little boys shouldn't be nosing through them," he explained. He hadn't been ready to be honest with Dean about his night time activities but now it seemed he had no choice. "Sometimes there are real monsters that want to hurt people and I go out and find them. After I find them I make sure they don't hurt anyone. Do you understand?"
"Did one of those monsters hurt Mom?" Dean asked as tears began anew.
John knew this question would be asked one day and knew he would never be prepared for it. He took a deep breath and lifted his son into his lap.
"Yes Dean some kind of monster hurt your mommy and that is why I do this job so nobody else's mommy will get hurt. Do you understand?"
The boy nodded up and down. "But why Mom?" he sobbed.
"I don't know son, I really don't know. It wasn't anything you did or didn't do, okay? You need to know that, it wasn't your fault. In fact Mommy would have been so proud of the way you protected your brother that night and ever since."
Dean nodded and then finished a very good cry his head buried in his father's chest. After he was all cried out he looked up at his father and asked: "When I get bigger can I help you make the monsters go away?"
John looked down at the hopeful face of his son and smiled, "you bet you can."
Dean climbed out of his father's lap and dried his tears with some toilet paper from the bathroom. He then stood in front of his father and asked: "So how much trouble am I in?"
"Big trouble," John answered.
"Spanking trouble?" Dean asked.
"You better believe it. Dean I was so scared last night. Do you have any idea how much danger you were in? How badly you could have been hurt? How can I protect you if you don't listen to me and obey my rules?"
"But you did protect me," the boy argued.
"You should've never been in that position. You should've never snooped in my things and you should have never left this house. You had a brave idea, but you put yourself in danger not to mention your little brother. Don't you think Sam would've been scared to death if he woke up and saw that you weren't here? What if he went out looking for you and got lost? What you did was so dangerous and you have to understand that."
Dean nodded as a new tear wound its way down his face. "When will I be big enough to help you?" Dean managed to ask.
"Before you will be able to help me you have some growing to do and a lot of training to master," John explained.
"What's training?" Dean asked.
"It's where you learn and practice all kinds of things; things you will need to know to stay safe. You will need to learn lots of skills, like shooting…"
"Like you did last night, yeah I want to learn that," Dean interrupted excitedly.
"Close the mouth and open the ears," John admonished his son. Dean nodded trying to look contrite. "You will also need to learn how to take care of your weapons, but it goes well beyond that. You will have to make your body strong and fast so it is ready to do whatever you need it to. You will have to read all about what you are hunting and learn exactly what it is and what it does."
"Yuck," Dean said wrinkling up his nose.
"And above all, you will need to learn how to follow orders with no exceptions," John said sternly.
"When can we start?" Dean asked with enthusiasm.
"Hmmm, after you are done being grounded, but this will just be the very beginning, you are a long way from any real action; understood?"
"How long am I grounded for?" Dean quickly asked.
"I think a week ought to do it; and Dean it's okay if you change your mind about the training," John told his young son.
"Okay a week and I won't change my mind," Dean said as he headed for his bedroom.
"Freeze young man," John commanded. "We're not done here."
Dean stopped in mid-step, his eyes locked to the floor.
John had debated all morning about the action he was about to take, but felt that this was important enough that he push aside his anxiety. "We still have some unfinished business to take care of."
"We do?" Dean asked meekly.
"Yes, you know we do," John stated as his hand began to unbuckle his belt.
Dean's eyes grew wide as he watched this action. This was of course not the first time he had suffered this type of penalty but his father had never used anything other than his hand.
"You need to come here," John demanded. Dean remained rooted to his spot seemingly unable to move. "Dean Michael I am not asking you." Dean still remained stationary. With a sigh John reminded himself how important this was to the safety of both of his sons. "Dude you do not want me to come over there."
Finally there was motion from his son as he slowly shuffled towards his father. John had the belt folded in half with the buckle tucked in his palm. He wished he felt more confident about this decision. His head was saying one thing while his heart something completely different. He had always been the disciplinarian even when Mary was alive, but Dean's errors back then were so trivial in comparison to life as they know it now that they seemed insignificant. Back then a stern word, a harsh look and occasionally a swat to the behind took care of everything. But back then they weren't discussing life and death decisions. He needed to fix whatever caused Dean to go awry; he needed his son to understand that John's rules were to be obeyed no matter what. It could be the only thing that kept Dean and Sam alive one day; the ability to listen and follow orders.
Dean had finally made his way over to John who was standing next to the dining room table. He looked up; his lip trembling. "I've never…you've never…" Dean struggled.
"Son you've never been in this much trouble and big trouble demands big punishment," John explained. "Now if you are going to be this rebellious then you have to accept the penalties that go along with it. If you truly want to help when you get older then I have to know you will always listen to me and if you don't there will be consequences."
Dean nodded as his fingers clenched and unclenched.
John took his sons hands and placed them on top of the table about a foot apart. The child was so tense he reminded John of a surf board. He was sure he could bounce a quarter off the boy. He took one last deep breath and told Dean that it would go better if held still.
John had to force himself to keep his eyes open and to go forward with this. As much as wanted to drop the belt and pick up his son he knew this had to happen. He drew in a breath and unleashed his instrument of retribution. He gave 3 decisive blows and decided that was enough. Dean remained in position until John released him to his room. The two never made eye contact as the boy ran to the security of his bedroom.
At 5:00 when John yelled to Dean that he was going to pick Sam up from the after school program he was met with silence.
"Daddy," squealed little Sammy as he raced across the gym to his father. "Is Dean better?" he immediately asked.
"I'm not really sure. You might want to leave him alone for a while," John told his youngest son.
When they got home Sam plopped down at the dining room table and started his homework. He loved school even the homework part. John watched the little one arrange his crayons and pencils with care and couldn't help but smile. His sons definitely differed in the school department. Getting Dean to do anything academically oriented was like pulling teeth. He began making dinner hoping that Dean was feeling better. He figured it would be a long night if he decided to sulk through it. He got the chicken breasts in the oven and the macaroni to a boil and thought he should check on his 10 year old. Sam had finished his work and was watching some ridiculous cartoon but it was eliciting laughter from the boy.
Dean was on his bed lying on his side facing way from the door. John walked around the bed until he faced his son. Dean was feigning sleep but an undeterred John sat down on the bed anyway.
"How are you feeling?" John asked with sincerity.
"I'm okay, I can handle anything," Dean sniffed.
"Well aren't you a tough customer? Do you understand why I came down on you so hard?" John asked.
"Because I have to learn how to listen and follow the rules," Dean said.
"Exactly, I have to count on you to watch your little brother when I'm not around and you won't be able to do that if you are out running in the night," John said with a smile creeping across his lips.
Dean sat up and after some effort his eyes met his fathers. "I got it Dad, I got the message. So when do we eat, it's starting to smell good."
Dean had been an angel for 3 weeks now, a new record John thought. After the grounding John had kept his end of the bargain and taken Dean out to an old obstacle course just outside of town. The boy ate it up; fatigue always seems to be a parent's best friend. Sammy hadn't said much about being in the left out of the mystery activity but that didn't last long.
"Daddy where do you take Dean every day? I want to come too," the 6 year old said as his lower lip stuck out. Usually this face worked on everyone every time.
"Dean and I working on some skills like running and jumping," John explained.
"Me too, me too. I want to do that stuff," Sam chanted.
"Well it's kind of hard, even as big as Dean is, he struggles sometimes."
But Sammy had been adamant so minus the reason they were all out there in the first place John loaded both his sons up and took them to Winchester Boot Camp. Sammy had fun for the first 5 minutes then decided it was too much work and sat down and complained the remainder of the session. John was actually happy it worked out that way as he could focus on Dean alone; Sammy was just too young for the truth and the effort that knowing it brought.