Beautiful Innocence
By: chocolate rules
Still here! And this chapter is just cute:D But, I need the cute before the storm. Remember, I call this BEAUTIFUL INNOCENCE which means that I usually make Sam out to be slsighlty younger than his age. Like this chapter for instance, def. acts younger than his 12 yrs. But, the events kindof allow that. Blah, Blah, Blah Enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 8: Daddy Dearest
Dean silently fumbled for the light switch to his left as he lined his aim to the figure outlined by the moonlight coming in from the window.
Switching the light on, Dean yelled, "Alright, freeze!"
Surprised out of his activities, the figure flips around surprised to have a gun pointed at his face.
"Watch it, kiddo." Dean hears a familiar growl say. Blinking out of his fright, he's surprised enough to question the sight.
"Dad?"
"Yeah, kiddo, mind putting down the .22?" Dean did as asked and looked his Dad over.
John was standing in front of the sink. He had his shirt balled on the counter besides him. The once light gray shirt was now caked with blood.
Across his chest were three deep slashes, still omitting some blood. Seeing Dean's focus on the marks, John turns back around and continues to use the towel he was using to wipe away the blood before going into the bathroom and fixing himself up.
"It's nothing, kiddo," he whispered. "Just a few scratches. Mean old demon."
"Dad?"
"It's alright, Dean. Go back to bed."
John can hear Dean's soft breathing as he shifted around where he stood.
"'M gonna get the kit."
John sighed as he turned around, intent on telling his eldest to forget it and just go to bed. Instead, as Dean reached the swinging door, in come Sammy.
Dean, having forgotten that the kid was still waiting in the hall almost let the kid slip by him. Before he can reach their dad, Dean wrapped an arm around the little one's waist.
"Daddy?" came Sam's little voice in light of the bloody scratches.
"It's okay, Sammy." John said softly. He expected the kid to be mad with him, like he was every other time that he left without saying goodbye. He hadn't expected him to be awake at 2am and seeing him dripping in blood.
"You're hurt." Sam clarified, voiding the reassurance.
"Dad's gonna be just fine, Sammy. Just get back to bed and then I'll fix him right up."
"I'll be fine, kiddo. You boys can both head back to bed now. We'll talk in the morning."
"I'm getting you the kit. They need stitching, Dad. And you can't do that yourself." Dean's defiant gaze told him that was exactly what was going to happen and there was no way that he was going to back down.
"I'mma help too," added Sam as he wriggled out from beneath Dean's arm. He took a few steps towards his dad, eyes shifting from the cuts up to meet his Dad's gaze.
"No, you're going back to bed. It's really late, and you have school in the morning." John told him sternly. He looked up over to Dean as well. "The both of you."
Both sons ignored him as Dean shook his head and headed out the kitchen once again and went to get the kit. Sam, in turn, reached his dad's side and looked sympathetically at the cuts.
"Hurts," he said as he looked up to his dad's green eyes. "Don't it?"
"Its fine, kiddo," responded John, even though the cuts hurt like the devil.
"Dean's good at stitches. You'll be just fine." Sam reassured him.
John shook his head; this kid was getting harder to comprehend everyday.
"I know Sammy, thank you. I taught your brother. And you're right. I'll be just fine. So, you see, there's no need to stay around. You can head to bed."
Before he even finished talking, Sam's shaking his head no.
"I wanna stay here with you," he pleaded.
Before he can tell him to do otherwise, Dean returned with the kit.
"Hey, Sammy. Get me some rags and water to clean them up," ordered Dean as he set the kit on the kitchen table.
Dean looked over at John expectantly. With a soft breath, John pushed himself of the sink and over to the table. Dean was already pulling out some pain tabs and handed them over to him as he sat down at the table.
John dry swallowed the pills and watched, pleased, as Dean got out the materials he'd need to take care of the scratches.
Sam returned with a small bowl of water and a few rags. He handed them over to Dean and then turned back to John.
"What happened?" he asked softly. John started to shake his head, but Dean beat him to the punch.
"Not today, Sammy. It's not the time for that. Let's just fix him up so he can rest, 'kay?"
Sam looked up to met Dean's warning gaze and nodded. He looked back to his dad and grimaced.
"Daddy, they look bad," he comments softly.
"Nothing I can't handle, kiddo," winked John Sam didn't look too reassured, but the tenseness in his shoulders relaxed over some.
"Yeah, scars make the man, right Dad?" Dean said winking his own to him.
"That's right." He nodded to his eldest. "Long as you win," he added as he reached over slightly and ruffled Sammy's floppy mess that he called hair.
Dean worked quickly and carefully as he cleaned the cuts and made certain that they hadn't suffered any infection. As he used tweezers to pry off stands of the gray shirt, Sam made his way closer to John. By the time that Dean finished applying some antibiotic cream and was ready to start stitching; Sam was leaning on John's shoulder, small arms wrapped around his neck.
John wrapped an arm around the kid's head and kissed his hair before releasing him. Taking the forgiveness as it was, John didn't want to do anything other than wrap the kid in a hug, but he didn't want to stretch the cuts any further.
Dean made slow work of the needle, but each point was precise and John was pretty sure that it'd be damn hard to break those stitches. Sensing himself that the cuts were in no way life threatening – otherwise he'd have hightailed it to a hospital, explanation pending – John was reassured by his son's technique. He had started teaching his youngest the finer points of a first aid kit, but Sam wasn't as quick to learn it as Dean. Where Dean was a visual, hands-on learner, Sam needed method, reasoning and words to understand. All things he'd learned about while he thought about becoming a Marine instructor and watching as Mary made progress in her classes.
An hour later and he was stitched, bandaged, and cleaned as he reassured a sleepy Sam that everything would be fine in the morning.
"Can I sleep with you?" Sam asked as he hoped off his Dad's lap from where they sat on the sofa.
Taken aback by the request, one he hadn't heard in months, John almost forgot to answer.
"Naw, Sammy," Dean answered instead. "Dad needs his rest if he's going to be fine in the morning. He doesn't need you kicking and smacking him all through the night," he teased his brother.
Sam rolled his eyes. Granted, from sleeping with both men, he had been woken up on numerous occasions and told to calm down and dream happier things, he still didn't need to be reminded of it.
John shook his head and gave Dean a 'warning' look that was countered by his smirk. His youngest was one hell of a sleep-fighter. John wrapped his arm around Sammy, making him turn his attention back to him.
"Dean's right kiddo. I'm gonna need to rest. And, you're kind of a handful." Sam pouted and John was sure that this was all because the visual image that his dad could get hurt had really startled him.
"Maybe tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow sounds just fine," he said leaning forward and kissing his cheek good night.
Dean stood from the armchair and grabbed Sam by the arm, seeing as how it would take them forever to get him to go back to bed on a normal day. Sam turned towards their dad, however and with thought spoke.
"I'll sleep with Dean then, and you can have my bed. That okay?" He asked already moving ahead to get the new sheets that he had earlier intended to get and fix up his bed anew.
Both of the elder Winchesters shrugged. Dean helped John to standing and walked ahead of him to the rooms. They both paused at Sam's doorway as Sam tugged on the last cover.
"Wet the bed there kiddo?" teased Dean.
Sam flipped around and gave him an evil glare as John lightly smacked at his head.
"Oww, okay, sorry."
"No, you dick. I had a nightmare and sweated up a storm, if you hadta know."
"Sammy," John said disapproving to his youngest at the word choice. Sighing, instead he asked "You okay?"
Sam shrugged. Really, he wasn't all that okay. He hated the damn dreams: they were too visual and they freaked the heck out of him. But he didn't need to worry them.
"They were nothing, just dreams, right?" he tried to say coolly.
But he really wasn't all that great of a liar.
"Why don't we talk about them in the morning?" John said instead. He knew how hard the nightmares tolled on his youngest and also knew that it'd be better if he didn't keep them to himself.
John remembered when Dean had started helping him out in hunts, a little over ten years old. He had had many nightmares and John would wake up in the middle of the night to find the boy crawling into his bed, sniffling slightly. He'd pull back the covers and wrap his arms around Dean's trembling form. Ushering words of reassurance and safety he marveled at how he could make the kid secure and get him back to sleeping so efficiently.
"Okay," Sam said as he walked back to them. He didn't look too pleased at the notion, but knew it'd happened none the less.
He walked over to them and wrapped his arms tightly around John's waist. He softly rested his head on his chest, listening to the steady, rhythmic beating of his dad. John wrapped his arms once more around him, knowing how he knew with Dean, that the nightmares took toil on his young boys' minds.
"Night shortie," he teased as he ruffled Sam's brown hair. Sam groaned against him but didn't let him go.
"Night Daddy," Sam replied as he finally released him and tried to stifle a yawn.
Sharing a knowing look with his eldest, John leaning over and kissed Sam's forehead good night. Doing the same to Dean, which caused the boy to moan and slightly push him back, John watched as they both clambered into the other room.
Dean paused at the door and looked back at him.
"Did you get it?" he asked in a youthful voice. Wonder and worry filled his eyes.
"Heck yeah," grinned John. Dean nodded, grinning back.
"Cool. Night Dad."
"Night, big guy."
Next Morning:
Dean slowly aroused the next morning. He felt rather than saw Sammy sprawled out on most of the bed. Dean smiled at himself, Sam was more off the bed than on it and had it not bee for his tight grip on Dean's shirt, he would have landed face first on the floor.
Pulling him back onto the bed, Dean started to shake him awake.
"Sammy," he started shaking the younger boy's shoulder. "Sam, come on, you gotta wake up now." Nothing.
"Sam, it's time to get ready for school." A little drool, but nothing else. "Dude, I'm the one that doesn't want to go. Fine, don't be whining later that you'll be late."
Sam was a hard sleeper, but now Dean saw a slight movement in him that told him the boy was awake, but pretending.
"Sam, don't be an ass now, just cause you're tired. I'm tired too you know."
Before Sam could reply, the door opened and their dad came in.
"Morning boys," he said softly. He looked rested, and alert.
Dean glanced up to him. John stood freshly showered in his jeans and a plain white tee.
"Morning Dad," Dean said glad to see that he was in fact not still hurt.
John walked over to the edge of the bed and peered down at his youngest.
"Boys sleep alright?"
"Enough," he replied with a shrug. John nodded and reached over to grab at the blankets now pooled up to Sam's chin. Sam had his head bent into the comforter and was pretending to not hear anything; not his dad and not his brother.
"Sam, I know you're awake kiddo. It's time to get up."
"Naw, I'm good," he muttered.
John pulled down comforter to Sam's waist and Dean's knees, since he was sitting up.
"Dad," whined Dean against the cold. He tried to get back under them, but John reached over and grabbed at Dean's arm.
"Go and get dressed," he told him. Dean rolled his head, but got up towards the bathroom anyway.
Sam, on the other hand pretended that the sheets being moved didn't bother him.
John pulled him into sitting and poked at his ribs slightly. Sam tried to twist away from the incursion, but his dad was pretty persistent.
And soon he was trying to stifle the giggles, but both his dad and Dean knew how ticklish he was and he didn't last long.
"Okay, okay, okay! I'm awake, I'm awake! Aaahh, Daddy stoop! I'm awake! Heehhee! I'm awake," Sammy tried to reason.
"You sure," teased John. Sam nodded urgently and John stopped. "Then you better get up and get dressed. You got ten minutes," he added as he pulled him to his feet.
"Can't I sleep for just five more minutes?" he asked, but John was already pushing him to the bathroom just as Dean was coming out.
"Morning sunshine," he teased to the grumpy guy being tossed to the awaiting head.
Fifteen minutes later both of the brothers were ready and walking towards the kitchen.
At the door, they could hear their father inside making breakfast. Before pushing their way in, Sam grabbed at Dean's arm.
"What?"
"We never got chance to clean, did we?" Sam asked biting his lower lip. Dean takes a moment before realizing what he's talking about.
"Crap, no we didn't," Dean said frowning. He glanced over to the door and then back at Sam. "No doubt he's noticed by now."
We're so dead, they both thought.
"Boys, get a move on!"
Both jumped at the voice and turned to the door.
"Ah, man," Sam softly muttered as he walked over to the door and pushed it open. Groaning and dragging his feet, Dean followed.
Sure enough, the kitchen looked like a poltergeist had attacked there.
Looking over at them from the stove, John knew what they were thinking.
"Yeah, not such a great sight, huh?"
"No sir," they both said. John nodded.
"Get to cleaning it while I finish these up." They headed over to the sink and started to clean up, mindful of the fresh waffles that their dad was making. One of the few things in the tiny list that John could not only make, but make really well.
Settling in to the breakfast presented to them, Dean and Sam were actually pretty happy to have their dad back.
John sat in front of them and looked them over. He was slightly worried over the bruising and cuts on Sammy's face. He didn't need to be quite as observant as he knew that he was to have noticed the lip and the cut in his cheek.
"Mind telling me what happened?" asked John using his fork to point to Sam's face.
Dean looked up and noting his dad's gaze looked over to Sam as well. And sure enough, the kid's face didn't look so good.
Yet another thing that they had forgotten about.
"It's nothing," muttered Sam not bothering to look up.
"Sam," John started in a warning tone causing Dean to flip his attention back to him. "I know like hell that when I left you didn't have bruises and cuts on your face. Tell me what happened."
Sam moved his head slightly up but didn't look further than above his waffle stack.
"Nothing," he repeated.
Dean watched as John shock his head, angered slightly but more concerned for his youngest.
"Didn't ask you what it was, I can see what it is. What I want to know is what happened to get it there, and I want to know now." Seeing how Sam just continued to push the remainder of his waffles pieces around, Dean decided to interfere.
"Dad, listen, it's nothing really. Just a little scuffle. I sorted everything out, it's nothing," Dean repeated. John turned tired eyes to him.
"Dean, can you please not cover for your brother. I can tell that it was something, because Sam doesn't just jump into fights. And it was a fight, not just a hit, because he's got more than just one bruise or one cut," turning back to Sam, he continued to talk, "And I for one would like to know what happened."
Sam did look up this time and over to his dad. He looked sad and pleading but didn't offer anything.
"Fine," sighed John, leaning back onto the chair. "Finish your breakfast and I'll drive you two to your classes while I head over to get some research done."
"Dad?"
"Dean, after how you left the kitchen, I don' think that I can let you have the car right now."
"Bu- why?" John gave him a look and Dean sighed grabbing his fork once more. "This sucks."
"I'll pick you both up as soon as your schools let out. And then, Sam, we will talk. Not only about what the heck happened to get you to fight," and then John looked back over to Dean again. When Dean looked up from his waffles, lip tinted with syrup he continued. "but also about how I called here for two hours to tell you both I was done with the hunt to find that no one was home."
"See, that, I can explain…."
"Don't bother, we'll talk about it later."
Opening his mouth to argue, but then figuring better of it Dean said instead, "Yes sir."
"Good, then let's get going," he said, grabbing his keys and leading the way to his truck.
"Told ya we shoulda cleaned it up," Sam growled as he grabbed his jacket and backpack from besides the door.
"Ugh, you're telling me. No car?! I'm gonna die!" he whined as he grabbed his own jacket and began to drag his bag out the door.
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Next chapter: Silence Speaks...
