May 1
Yeah, it's three weeks later. It took me a while to wrap my head around that one, ok?
Gotta admit though, I'm pretty certain you're thinking what I would have been thinking, if some schmo told me the same sad story.
Big friggin' deal. You're here, dude. Your so-called Dad's dead, and so's your Mom, so what difference does it make now if she banged dear Daddy or the paperboy to make you? Grow some stones, princess, and move on.
Yeah, and I've always been an insensitive jerk like you, too. Let me tell ya, you have no idea what finding out that your Dad's not exactly your Dad does to you. Especially if you'd been raised by my Dad. Shit, Corporal John Winchester makes Gunny R. Lee Ermey seem like Mr. Rogers.
I was scared to death of the guy my whole life, and half the time when he was around, I ended up taking care of him and Sammy both- but I wanted to make him proud, too. More than anything. He was my Dad. He fought monsters. He kept me and Sam and the whole friggin' world safe and whatever he said was pure gold gospel truth when I was a kid.
Shit, even now, when I dream about him, I still call him sir.
Let me tell you, it was a whole lot easier to accept that God has left the building than to wrap my head around the fact that John Winchester's not my biological father. Not that I had a lot of time to stew over it. Y'know, looming Apocalypse and all.
Even if I'd had all the time in the world to navel-gaze and drench my hankie, I couldn't say a word about this to Sam. Sam butted heads with Dad since that Christmas when Sam was eight.
I really think Sam hated Dad after that Christmas. Just a little then, but it kept building up, growing stronger every time Dad dumped us somewhere or passed out drunk or broke another promise. I know Sam. I can read his face and the way he moves so well, he might as well shout out every thought in his head sometimes. I've seen him kill things hand-to-hand with less murder in his eyes than I've seen in him when he and Dad were really going at it.
After Dad died, it was like Sam still had all this rage and resentment and hatred whirling around inside him, but nowhere for it to go any more. He said he was angry all the time, and hell yeah I can vouch for that. A whopping dose of survivor's guilt didn't do either one of us any good, but Sam being Sam, it really ate at him.
All our lives, Sam's been more than a little resentful and jealous of how Dad treated me. Sam still thinks I was Dad's favorite, John's good little wind-up soldier, while he was Little Sammy Screw-up. The reason Mom died and the kid voted most likely to turn monster. What would it do to him to find out now that he's Dad's only real son?
Yeah. Nothing good. So all that and a bag of chips is why I can't ever breathe a word of this to Sam.