Faltered Chapter 6
It had been three weeks since John left Dean and Sammy on their own to go on a hunt. Dean had done the best he could to take care of Sammy in that time. It was November and cold. Dean had taken care to chop wood and kept the fire going in the hearth.
Three weeks wasn't the longest amount of time that John had ever been gone but this time seemed to be different for Dean then the others.
His Father had said he'd been gone a week now it was going on three.
Pop had left them their rations for while he was gone; salted pork, hard tack, and canned peaches that were only to be eaten in an emergency.
The rest of the food was locked up in storage in back of the house and John had taken the key.
He had said he'd be back soon.
They were running out of food.
Dean was scared for Sammy and he'd started to fear that their Pop was dead.
Dean opened the last can of peaches. He had been trying to save it as long as possible but it was Supper time and Sammy was hungry. Dean had nothing else to give him except some hard tack.
Sammy hated hard tack.
Dean had been weighing their options. Pop had built the storage shed so that no one could steal from them, so Dean doubted he could break into it. If he did manage to get into it Pop would be really made at him.
He'd set some traps the day before hoping to catch a rabbit or fox anything that he cook and they could eat. So far he'd not caught a thing.
He couldn't go deep into the woods to hunt because he couldn't leave Sammy and he couldn't take Sammy, the eight year old just didn't have it in him.
They hadn't seen Pastor Jim since the first week. Dean had hoped that he would come again this week, but he hadn't.
That meant unless Pop was there bright and early tomorrow morning He and Sammy would have to walk the five miles into town and hope Pastor Jim would take them in.
Dean poured the peach juice into a bowl and put the peach on a plate. He sliced it up and put both in front of Sammy who was reading a book that Pastor Jim had lent him.
Sammy regarded the plate hungrily; he hadn't had much to eat in the last few days. "Is Poppa going to be mad that we ate the peaches?" Sammy worried aloud. Dean shook his head slightly to comfort the boy. Honestly he didn't know; the peaches were expensive he knew that.
That probably meant Pop would be mad.
"Is there anything else left?" Sam was ready to dig in but only if it was a last resort.
Dean held up the two pieces of hardtack still left and handed one to Sam. Sam took it and wrinkled his nose. Dean knew the stuff was disgusting but that was all they had left.
Sammy broke the large thick cracker and slyly dropped it into the peach juice. "It's not so bad if you eat it together, it reminds me of that pie we had last summer at Pastor Jim's the one the church ladies brought over. You remember that pie, Dean? That sure was good. If there was one here now I bet I could eat the whole thing by myself."
Dean remembered the pie, it had been like heaven.
"You ever have a pie like that one before, Dean?" Dean hated when Sam got in one of his questioning moods. Sammy liked to talk and that was fine. Dean didn't like to talk and all Sammy's question drove him a little crazy.
Dean nodded in answer to Sammy's question.
"Where'd you have pie before Dean?" Sammy asked and shoved his slate board and chalk in front of his older brother. It was a novelty Sammy had only recently discovered. If he asked Dean a question Dean would sometimes write an answer if Sammy pressed him enough.
Sammy was looking at him expectantly, Dean wished he'd just eat and be quiet. But he wanted Sammy to be happy so he picked up the chalk and wrote H O M E.
Sammy took the board back and looked at it "Home, why didn't you just say that Dean?" Sammy looked at him like he'd made a joke. Dean didn't find it very funny but he gave the little boy a half hearted smile and nod.
"What do you mean home Dean? I've never had pie here? Do you mean before the fire? Did mama make pies?"
Dean didn't respond, he's eyes focused on the fireplace. Sammy noticed the change in his brother and asked a little more quietly, as he pushed the chalk across the table to his brother. "What kind did she make?"
Dean wouldn't take the chalk. Sammy didn't want make Dean mad so he left the chalk where it was and started to eat the cut up peach. "Aren't you going to have any?" Sammy stuck a big slice in his mouth.
Dean blinked and shook his head. He had the one piece of hard tack left. He decided to wrap it in a handkerchief and stick it in his pocket. They'd need it if they had to walk into town tomorrow.
"You can have some of mind." Sammy offered his plate. Dean shook his head and sat down at the table.
Sammy ate.
Dean had checked under the beds and all around the house after he put Sammy to bed just like his Pop had taught him. Once he was sure the house was safe and that Sammy was asleep Dean grabbed the shotgun and went to go check the traps.
His stomach growled and gurgled and ate at his insides as he pulled his thin jacket closer against the cold wind.
The traps were empty.
After finding the last one with nothing Dean sat down on the cold ground defeated. He sat there quietly. He jumped at the crack of every branch and the rustle of every tree. In the back of his mind he knew it was probably just the wind but after awhile his stomach convinced him that it must be food. He shot every cartridge he had and came up empty every time; there was nothing out there to shoot.
Finally exhausted and hungry he dragged the useless gun back home.
He trudged into the small shanty of a house and stopped instantly alert again. Something was not as he left it. It was colder in the house. Turning to the room he shared with Sammy he saw that the door was closed more than he remembered it being.
The house was dark. Dean didn't take any time to light a candle. He stepped forward cursing the creak that the floor made and gently pushed open the door. His eyes were slow to adjust to the dark when they did he was horrified at what he saw.
A figure was floating above the bed over Sammy.
Dean grabbed for his gun but he didn't have anything to shoot, he stumbled around trying to find something anything to load the weapon with.
Pop had told him to shoot anything that came into their home or threatened Sammy. This was doing both and he couldn't find any powder in the dark. There was nothing to shoot the strange creature with.
Dean Panicked.
Then the door slammed open behind him and Dean felt his heart nearly jump out of his chest with terror.
He was pushed aside as someone big past him causing him to lose his footing. He caught himself of the door jamb before he fell.
It was Pop. Pop was there and he was going to save them. Dean felt relief wash over him.
John shot at the horrible thing and it fled. Sammy was alright, he would be alright.
Dean Stood in the doorway as their Poppa held Sammy who woke up confused but unharmed.
Their Father looked relieved until he turned to Dean. His expression turned to anger.
"Where were you!" John said accusingly. Dean had no reply. He couldn't say he was trying to find something for them to eat because John hadn't left them enough food. He could only stand silently and listen to what his father said.
"You were supposed to protect him." John laid Sam back on the bed. "Those were your orders." John crossed the floor to his oldest son. "He almost died tonight because of you." John growled and then punctuated the statement by slapping Dean roughly across the face.
Dean's world rocked, he'd never been hit before. He'd never failed so utterly. John walked out of the room and there in the darkness the small world Dean had made for himself shattered.
He didn't move for a long time until a cold breeze ran up him back. Instantly his thoughts turned to protecting Sammy. Dean went and shut the window.
The moon seemed bright again he could see in the room. Sammy had fallen back to sleep on the bed. Dean looked at his brother sleeping, he wanted to wake him. He wanted to be reassured that it hadn't been his fault that everything was alright. Sammy's smile always made things better.
Dean didn't wake up his brother. He had messed up and almost gotten Sammy killed. He had let down his father.
Dean grabbed Sammy's Slate board and chalk. Then sitting under the window in the moonlight he scrawled I AM SORRY.
He stared at the words he'd written. No one was there to see them. He was useless.
Tears pooled in his eyes.
He knew what he had to do, concentrating hard he opened his mouth and formed that words.
No sound came out. He had no voice.
He couldn't tell Sammy he was sorry.
TBC….
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