Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
I hope these 'double back on themselves' scenes in the other's POV don't annoy you too much. I can just never find the right place to put them in the same chapter, so I tend to start the next chapter off with them. It also serves as a recap without having to paste the end of each chapter at the start of the next :)
Also, writing in John's POV has actually pushed me off the fence and into the 'I Like John' camp rather than 'I Hate John'. Now I'm confused o_o
Thanks to LaughingLadybug, EmilyAnnMcGarrett-Winchester and moira4eku for reviewing. Ladybug and Emily, I can now write your names off by heart without having to look at the page! XD
When John came back after searching the records for Tom Carey and heard his father playing granddaddy to Sam and Dean, he didn't know what to think. Was he trying to compensate for John's lack of affection or something?
"Well," John declared, opening the door and walking into the room, "according to the records, Tom Carey lives in Lebanon, Kansas, and is a happy, healthy one hundred and six year old." Sam and Dean blinked but Henry just nodded. "Let's get some shut-eye and head out first thing in the morning. Get to bed, boys."
John was pleased when Sam and Dean immediately moved to obey him but then Henry had to intervene.
"Wait a minute, John," he said. John began to form a snappish remark. "I was just about to tell them the story behind As Time Goes By."
The retort died on John's lips. Memories of him and Henry assaulted him from all directions and all he could do was nod and fall onto the other bed. Henry paused for a moment and then continued.
"Your father saw Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy at the drive-in one night," he began. Sam and Dean leaned forward and John felt a brief pang of jealousy. Why couldn't his boys be like that with him? "It scared the beeswax out of him, so I got him a little music box that played that song to help him sleep at night. Worked like a charm." Henry smiled at John, who could detect the regret oozing off him. "I'm just glad that you kept it, John."
"Wow," Sam said. "Dad, it's hard to believe that you were scared of anything!"
A wave of emotions surged through John: irritation, anger, sadness and, most of all, remorse. He'd spent so long presenting an ironclad façade of himself…did his boys even think of him as a person anymore? John wasn't one for sappy, heartfelt moments – a trait he'd successfully passed on to Dean – but he knew that one was long overdue, so he stood up and sat back down next to his youngest son.
"Course I'm scared of things, Sammy," he said. "Everyone's scared of something. But you gotta be brave. You have to ignore those fears and do what's right anyway or you can do the easy thing and curl up and cry and then get killed."
And maybe that was his excuse for being such a hardass. Maybe he was scared that if he showed even one sliver of doubt or fear, the monsters would take advantage of that and finally get him and his boys. And that was something he couldn't afford!
John looked at Henry significantly. That speech had also helped him to see that maybe he shouldn't be too hard on his father. Sure, jumping through time and ditching him for thirty four years wouldn't exactly win Henry a 'Father of the Year' award but damn, was he trying to make up for it! And as much as his constant apologising irritated the hell out of John, it also helped him to begin to empathise with Henry. It would have been all too easy to give Abaddon the box, try and escape and go back to living with his wife and son but John knew that if he was in Henry's situation, he'd hope that he would have the guts to throw himself into a new time period on the slim chance of making it back to his sons in order to protect something against a great evil.
Alright, that was enough mushy crap.
"So," John said. "Tell us about Abaddon, Henry. What do you Men of Letters know about her?"
What followed was an explanation of the Knights of Hell that chilled John to his core. Why the hell did it have to be the practically invincible demon that was after Henry? Why couldn't it have been a normal demon? Of all the situations to put his boys in! John was also shocked to learn that angels existed – fat lot of good they'd done him when Mary was killed! – and then, before Sam fell into too deep a worship of angels, John decided to end the conversation by ordering Sam and Dean to bed.
To their credit, Sam and Dean immediately obeyed and John stood up to tuck them in, something he didn't do often. A memory of Henry tucking him in swam into the forefront of John's mind and, just like Henry used to do to him, he lightly brushed his hand across his sons' faces. His heart soared when they smiled, making him wonder why he didn't do that more often. Surely it couldn't hurt to act more fatherly towards his boys every once in a while!
Once Sam and Dean were drifting off to sleep, John sat down on the other bed and pulled his journal out of his duffle bag. He didn't know why he was doing this in front of Henry – after all, this would have been Henry's journal before he disappeared – but he wanted to see if he had any information about the Knights of Hell and he wasn't going to feel like an awkward teenage girl with her diary in front of his father. He began to skim but felt eyes burning into him, so he looked up to see Henry looking at him questioningly.
"My journal," was all he said.
"May I?" Henry said, holding out his hand. Something irrational flared inside John.
"No," he said roughly. "No one looks in this thing. It's my hunter's journal." He couldn't help adding the next jab. "Well, it is now."
To his credit, Henry didn't rise.
"Men of Letters also use journals," was all he said. "I intended to use one. I sent away for one the day before my initiation. Is that –?"
Henry came over to sit down next to John. John tensed, ready to jerk away at a moment's notice if Henry tried to read his journal, but all his father did was lift the photograph of John in military uniform aside to reveal the initials H.W.
"Judging by the initials, this one, I believe," Henry said softly.
"Came a week after you disappeared," John said tersely. "I kept it and used it and when I started hunting, it became my hunter's journal."
"I'm sorry," Henry said sadly. John nearly gave in and hugged him then and there but he was not a touchy-feely person and his father's constant apologising was grating on him. Why keep apologising for something he couldn't fix? "I should have been there for you. You should have been trained in the ways of the Letters."
Irritation and anger bubbled inside of John.
"Well, I learned things a bit differently after my life went to hell," he snapped, effectively killing the father-son moment (not that there had ever been one!). "And if you apologise one more time, I'll put a bullet through you. You can apologise all you want but at the end of the day, your responsibility was to me and Mom! Not some glorified book club!"
John tried to keep his voice down but it wasn't working. He was aware that Sam and Dean were only pretending to be asleep and were in fact listening in but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He sensed that he'd stepped over some sort of line when Henry stood up, looking truly angry for the first time in a long time that John could remember.
"Well, John, maybe you should take a better look at yourself!" he spat. John felt like he could shoot fire and daggers out of his eyes. "I'm sorry but you are being quite the hypocrite right now!"
Pure, raw fury coursed through John. He stood up slowly, clenching his fists in an effort not to hit Henry (though it wasn't like the bastard didn't deserve it!).
"Please elaborate," was all he could force out without losing control.
"You say that my family should have been my first priority and the Men of Letters my second." Henry was on a roll. "You're mad that I put the Men of Letters before you. Take a look at yourself, son! Your first priority is hunting and Sam and Dean are your second! I may have only been here for a short while but I can tell that you place hunting over giving your children a proper, normal life! You say that I need to straighten out my priorities? Well, maybe you should do the same!"
Those words were like a slap to John's face. No one had spoken to him like that in years! He was very much aware of his sons, who were no longer pretending to be asleep, and that was the only thing keeping him from punching Henry's lights out right now. He may be a hardass towards them but one thing he would never do was hit them and he wasn't going to instil that fear into them now!
His brain switched onto autopilot and John reverted to doing what he had always done when he and Mary had gotten into particularly bad arguments: getting the hell out before he could snap and take it out on his family. He made it to the clump of trees out the back of the motel before he let out a feral yell and kicked a tree, ignoring the sharp pain that erupted in his foot, before proceeding to vent his anger on his surroundings, not caring about anyone that might encounter him.
Finally, after ten minutes of letting out his anger and rage, John felt that he was calm enough to return to the motel room and face Henry without snapping and punching him in the face. He turned and stalked back to the motel, feeling the anger leach out of him with every step. He supposed that it was to be expected; after all, he'd lived without his father for over thirty years but as far as Henry was concerned, John was still his boy and therefore it was still his job to set him straight. But John refused to admit that he needed that kick up the pants – doing so would just make him look weak and fallible in front of Sam and Dean.
When John entered the room, he froze on the spot. Why the hell was Henry reading his journal after he'd specifically told him not to?
"What the hell?" John growled. Henry jumped and put the journal down but, to his credit, he didn't try and hide it or act guilty. "I told you to stay out of that!"
"I'm your father, John! I have a right to know about your life!" Henry said firmly.
"No! No you don't!" John slammed the door shut behind him, not caring that this action jolted Sam and Dean awake. "You can't disappear for thirty four years and then just waltz back in and pretend that everything's alright! Because it's not, Henry!"
"It wasn't thirty four years for me, John!" Henry said. "For me, it was a moment! You cannot begin to understand how I feel just reading this journal!"
"Can't I?" John challenged. "I'm the one who's lived through all of it because you weren't around for me and then my wife was killed! And then you had to go and invade my privacy!"
"I'm sorry, John! I let you down! But I'll go back and fix everything!" Henry's eyes were feverish and – unless John was imagining it – tearing up. "Tears of a dragon, an angel feather, a pinch of the sands of time – I'll find them and I'll go back and I'll give you the life you deserve! I'll stop this demon from killing Mary! I'll fix it all! Because I broke everything, so now I'll fix it!"
"Who's to say I'll even meet Mary, huh?" John challenged. "Mom and I only moved to Lawrence because she remarried! If you go back then we won't have to move to Lawrence! I won't meet Mary! Sam and Dean might not even be born! Now, I might be hard on my boys and I might not always be the father that they deserve but don't you dare think that there is anything I would put in front of them! Ever! I won't sacrifice my sons for the slim chance that I could maybe have a better life!"
"Stop it!" The two heavily breathing males were pulled out of their argument by Sam's cry. The poor boy was huddled under the covers while Dean held him close and glared defiantly at John and Henry. "Just stop it!"
There was a dead silence. Henry and John eyed each other for a moment and then Henry sighed and his shoulders relaxed.
"I apologise, John," he said quietly. "I was out of line. I merely forgot that to you, I've been gone for over thirty years and that I'm not your father anymore. But to me you'll always be my son, adult or not, and it's my job to look out for you. I understand if you want me to leave now and if that's the case, I'll be on my way."
John just grunted, the closest he was going to come to apologising. Henry seemed to sense this because he smiled weakly.
"Brother," was all John said. Henry frowned at him. "You stick around, you're my long-lost half- brother from Mom's second marriage. What am I going to say to people? 'Hey, this is Henry Winchester. He's my time-travelling father from thirty four years in the past. So, where's the ghost we have to ice?'"
Dean snickered and Sam let out a weak laugh. Even Henry chuckled.
"I realise that that sounds preposterous to the ordinary man," he said. "Fine. From now on, I will be your brother."
Before John could do anything, Henry strode forward and embraced him. John stiffened, unused to this close physical contact, and it wasn't until Sam gave him a look that he very carefully put his arms around Henry loosely. He broke free of the hug as quickly as possible but he couldn't deny that it had felt…nice. Yeah, it felt nice. John had forgotten what being hugged by a father felt like – while Patrick Bryan, his long-dead stepfather, had been a suitable father substitute, John had never been able to forget about Henry and so Patrick had never truly been his father.
"Right," he said gruffly, mask slipping back into place. "We leave for Lebanon in the morning. Get some shut-eye."
He crossed over to the empty bed and sank down into it, sitting up only to unlace his boots for a more comfortable four to five hours of sleep. He felt the mattress next to him dip as Henry carefully climbed into bed but, refusing to feel awkward about sharing a bed with someone for the first time in years, John stretched out with his hands folded under his head.
"Goodnight, John," Henry said.
"Night," John grunted back. As he drifted off to sleep, the sound of Henry whistling As Time Goes By quietly filled his ears. Rather than telling his father to stop, however, John simply let the whistling lull him into one of the best sleeps he'd had in eight years.