Chapter 21:The Law Of The Saw
John watched his son leave before following Dean through the bunker, finding his son in the gun room. The hand-saw at his side, and gun in his hands. He let himself in after Dean, who cocked the gun and shot John's entire clip into the wall. Not letting up on the trigger until he heard the tell-tail click signaling that the gun was empty. He threw the gun to the wall when finished with it, refusing to look at John.
"Dean." John started, watching his son pick up another gun, and load it. Aiming it at the target on the wall, and letting off several more rounds. "Dean, will you just listen to me a minute?"
"No, I will not." Dean said, throwing the gun on the table and getting up to look at his father. "You pulled a gun on my friend, my best friend, and you where gonna shot him in the head."
"I wasn't gonna actually shoot him, Dean." John argued, stepping closer to his oldest as he said it. Both hands up in a show of peace. His son was know for having impulse control problems, and he was holding a gun.
"Oh, like I believe that." Dean yelled with a manic smile on his face, before pinning John with a dark look. "You have been itching to kill him, or drive him away since you got here."
"He was trying to saw off his own leg." John told Dean, talking over him.
"So you point a gun at him?" Dean asked, throwing his hands up.
"Yes." John answered, trying to keep his breathing calm. "I had to. He wasn't listening to me when I told him to stop, and I couldn't get the damn saw away from him." He defended himself.
"Then come and get me or Sam. He'll listen to us. Don't go threatening to kill him." Dean argued, not letting up an inch. "The last thing you wanna do with Cas when he's gonna hurt himself, is threaten him. That just makes him want to prove you wrong, or do whatever your telling him not to. He may not look it, but he is a stubborn asshole who's rebellious streak has landed him in more trouble then good."
"He could have seriously hurt himself." John argued back.
"Then help him get the damn cast off. Don't threaten him." Dean reasoned, voice rising with every word. John's anger growing as his son yelled at him. He was trying to stop the guy from hurting himself, and upsetting Dean. How the Hell was he the one to get the third degree. "Why would you care in the first place, it's not like you where really worried about the guy."
"No. But I wasn't going to deal with how you would take it if he hurt himself." John admitted. "I knew you would blame me for it."
"Because you think I'm you, right?" Dean asked, glaring at his father. "Well, I can tell you right now. I am not you. I don't ever want to be you. The obsessed, revenge driven maniac, who would rather put his children in danger, then take care of them. Who made his four year old raise a baby, because you where to drunk to manage it yourself." He shot, hitting John speechless. John knew he wasn't the best father, but it was terrible having his faults thrown at him by his oldest, and best behaved child. He took several deep breaths, knowing that if he didn't, he would end up hitting his son, and if there was one thing John had vowed never to do. It was lay a hand on his children, even if they where grown, he wanted to keep that promise.
"I know I wasn't the best father, Dean." John said, taking deep breaths. "But I did the best I could with what I had." He said, Dean giving a snort of disbelief. He could feel his anger bubbling up, and he fought to keep it down. "But, damn it, I am trying to change. I am trying to help you, and if you would just take a moment to think about it. You would know that." He said, walking out of the room and too the garage, Sam calling to him as he walked away. John ignoring him, he really needed to take a few minutes to calm down.
He slammed the door closed as he entered, putting all his weight against the door. Trying to calm down. So he didn't handle the situation in the best way. Nobody ever said he was a patient man. He saw the situation for what it was and did what he felt he needed to do. Why wasn't Castiel getting yelled at? He's the one who had started the whole thing.
He grabbed a crowbar and slammed it against the wall a few times to vent his anger. Finding it gave him no satisfaction as he saw the hole he'd made in the wall. He regained his breath, and sat down on the hood of the Impala, holding his head in his hands. Many of the things his son had said, had made him angry more at himself then anything else.
He knew he put his children in danger. He knew he put a lot on Dean at a very young age, right after the kid had just lost his mother at that. But Dean had taken it in stride, growing up faster then he'd have believed possible. It had never occurred to him that Dean would grow to resent him, as he chased his own pain with a bottle. He just done what he thought was necessary.
He heard the garage door open and looked up. Sam had walked in, carrying a plate with a sandwich on it. He brought it over to John, handing him the plate and sat down beside him. He didn't say a word for several minutes. John figuring he was just waiting for John to open up, and not pressure him into it. Knowing that it would drive John deeper into himself. John looked down at his sandwich, made precisely. Just the way Dean used to always make them, cut into triangle, and that struck him. In all the years he'd been with his kids, he'd never actually made them a sandwich. Never cut the crust off, or knew the exact right amount of peanut butter to go with the jelly. His father may have disappeared, but he had still gotten that from his mother.
"Was I a bad Dad?" John finally asked, staring down at the sandwich. He couldn't eat it now, it would feel wrong.
"Yes." Sam answered plainly. John looking up at his son to see an honest look on his face.
"Don't sugar coat it or anything." John mumbled sarcastically. Of course his youngest would be blatantly honest with him. He was when he was a teenager, and it looked like that was never going to change.
"Dad, what do you want me to say? That you where great, caring, and supportive." Sam questioned. "Because I can't do that. You weren't. You dragged us all across the country, pulling us away from our friends, and any kind of stable environment. Leaving us in hotel rooms in some pretty shady areas, sometimes for weeks at a time. Not always with enough food to last for as long as you where gone, and not enough to get more either. I mean, you yelled at me for wanting to play sports, and not learn how to kill something, or shoot a gun, or something else equally dangerous." He listed, watching his father.
"I did." John started, trying to defend himself. But finding less ground to stand on. Sam cutting him off before he could finish.
"I know, you did the best you could." Sam admitted, staring at the opposite wall. "I know, you where trying to protect us. But, sometimes you seemed more interested in the hunt then you did in our own well being. I understand it, I really do, I'm the same way. But over the last few years, Dean has been the one to suffer the most for what you put on us."
"I know." John admitted, remembering everything he had done over the years. "But I had hoped that I had still taught you two that family came first." He said, watching his son for a reaction. "I thought Dean understood that more then anybody."
"He does." Sam told him, leaning further onto the car. "But what happened?" He asked, turning to John with a questioning look. "I mean, Dean's got a temper, but not much can set him off like that." John sighed wondering how he could phrase this.
"Castiel." John said, voice mocking the name. "Was trying to saw the damn cast off his leg. When I tried to stop him, he didn't listen. So I pulled a gun on him, to try and make him listen. It works on most hunters." John admitted, setting the sandwich on the car, and looking down at his feet. Maybe he should have just offered to help. He was never really one to keep his casts on as long as the doctor's told him to either.
"Well, that explains it." Sam said, looking up in thought. John looked up at his son in bewilderment.
"How does that explain that?" John asked, pointing out the door to indicate the argument he'd had with Dean.
"Has Dean talked to you about anything lately?" Sam asked, changing the subject. "Anything surprising, or weird. Anything out of character, that stuck with you."
"He asked me how I would have felt if you boys had been gay." John thought, remembering the conversation he'd had with Dean a few days earlier. "But other then that, nothing."
"He didn't tell you anything that might have shocked you, or anything?" Sam asked, watching his father. John thinking back to that conversation. Dean had said he was just curious. Hadn't told him anything.
"No." John said, thinking. Maybe Dean was still scared of his reaction or something. "Why, was he supposed to?" He asked, seeing the sad look on his son's face. "Sam, is there something I should know?" He asked, standing straighter to get a better look at his youngest's face. Sam sighed before he answered.
"That's not really my place to say." Sam said, standing himself and walking to the door. Turning around, he added. "But think about that for a bit, maybe you will get your answer. But for your first question. Why would Dean get so upset when Cas isn't family? Try thinking about how you would have reacted, had somebody pulled a gun on Mom." He said, opening the door and walking out. Leaving John in the room, wondering just what the Hell that was supposed to mean.
Dean was angry, and worried, and very close to falling off the edge. How could his father have done that? Number one rule in gun safety: Don't point it at someone, especially not the head. His father was not always the best person in talking to people, but he knew that at the very least. If he didn't want Castiel to take the cast off, he could have just taken the damn saw away, it wasn't that hard. After all, he'd done it.
It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to stop him from firing the weapon into his father. The guy knew how dangerous that was, and how he felt about Castiel...Okay, maybe he didn't know that. But he knew he was a friend, and a very good one at that.
He took a deep breath, calming himself down. He knew John wasn't the only one he was mad at. Castiel had literally just taken a saw to his leg, knowing that he could have hurt himself. Castiel had tried to follow him, and talk to him. But Dean had to do nothing more then look at him, and Castiel nodded and left him to himself for a while. To calm down, or try to, as his father hadn't taken the hint and followed him anyway. Now he was more angry then he was before.
He looked down at the saw that Castiel had been using, seeing that it was manual. Castiel had evidently dubbed this the safer one to use, having control of the speed and depth. Maybe Dean wasn't as mad at him, because he could see this coming. Over the past couple of weeks, Castiel had grown more and more irritated whenever someone tried to get him to do something that involves his own health. Refusing to take the pills he'd been given for pain, and refusing to stay in bed. Insisting on doing things himself, that he was not going to be a burden on Dean. No matter how many times Dean told him he wasn't.
He sighed, getting up and walking to his room, saw in hand. He wanted to talk to Castiel, find out why he had decided now was a good time to take it off. He only had another week in the cast, it wasn't that bad, was it. He walked through the halls, Sam stopping him as he came out of the garage.
"You need to tell Dad about you and Castiel." Sam told him, a meaningful look on his face. "He's already guessing half of it. But you need to come clean before he finds out himself. You know how that's going to go down." He cautioned.
"I know, Sam." Dean snapped, continuing to walk to his room. "But right now, I don't really want to talk to the guy. I will when I'm ready." He shot behind him, walking away from his brother. He didn't really want to talk to anyone right now, except Castiel. He just needed to get his bearings first.
But when he opened his door, that was shot out of his mind. Castiel was sitting on his bed, in his underwear, and waiting for him. His face guilty, and prepared to be yelled at. Dean looked at him, then down at the tool he'd been carrying, and back up to Castiel. He held the tool up in front of his face, pointedly looking at Castiel.
"Care to explain." Dean prompted, putting the saw down, but not taking his eyes away from his partner. Castiel sighed, looking down at his leg. He rubbed his fingers down the cracks that had already started to form, taking his time answering.
"I thought." Castiel started, looking up at Dean. "That if I no longer wore this thing, you would not feel the need to make me take those pills." He admitted, looking back down at his leg. Dean couldn't help seeing him looking so guilty. Like he was a child that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar before dinner. He sighed, putting the saw on his desk before sitting next to Castiel, on the bed.
"Cas, your in pain. I can tell, I just want to make sure your not drowning in it." Dean said, wrapping his arm around Castiel's shoulders. "Honestly, I don't understand why you hate them so much." He thought to himself, looking down at Castiel. "Hey, look at me." He said, taking Castiel's chin in his other hand, and moving it to face him. Castiel bright eyes meeting his, filled with hesitation. "What is it? Do you not like the way they made you feel. I know they can slow you down, or make you think they are."
"That's not it." Castiel admitted, eyes turning down. "I actually like the light headed feeling they give me." He informed, giving Dean a small amount of fear. Once this is over, the rest of those pills are getting flushed.
"Is it the sex thing?" Dean asked, thinking about that first night. "Cause I told you, I can wait. Just being with you is enough." He consoled, tilting Castiel's head up again. Making Castiel's eyes meet his.
"I know." Castiel stated. "That's not it either."
"Then what is it?" Dean asked, wondering why Castiel would think sawing the cast off was worth it. Castiel sighed, as if he didn't want to say, but looked up at Dean.
"It's the way you look at me, after they have taken affect. It alters my personality, and you look at me, as if your hurt. Or your remembering something painful." Castiel admitted, laying his head down on Dean's shoulder. "I don't like that look."
"I look at you like that?" Dean asked, surprised. He had no idea that's what he looked like. Sure, whenever Castiel was drugged up, he remembered the alternate world that he had prevented. The one where Castiel was just a broken shell of who he used to be. But he'd thought he had kept that covered.
"You do." Castiel answered, voice soft. "I don't know what is going on in your head, but I feel like I had hurt you in some way. I've done that enough in the past. I don't want to do it again." He stated, letting out a puff of air in his irritation.
"Cas." Dean sighed, looking down at his partner, and squeezing him tighter. "Your not hurting me."
"Then why do you look at me like that?" Castiel asked, leaning into him further.
"Because Zachariah was a dick, and made me go to a future world where the Apocalypse was in full swing." Dean said, burying his face in Castiel's hair, and taking a deep breath through his nose, smelling that calming aroma. At Castiel's confused look, he continued. "I told you about Zachariah sending me to the year twenty-fourteen, right?" Dean asked, continuing when Castiel nodded. "You where there...But..." Dean sighed, remembering that day. "You where not you, if you know what I mean. It was like, everything had just compacted on you, and you just gave up. Sure, you fought, stood with me and everything. But you where high when you did it, almost constantly actually. You also organized orgies, and had this whole, Buddhist love guru thing going on. It was disturbing, and it scared me, probably more then anything." Dean admitted, keeping his face buried in Castiel's hair, not wanting him to see the pain in his face.
"Why did you never tell me?" Castiel asked, his hand taking Dean's and holding it tightly.
"Because I changed that future, and it wasn't important." Dean stated, squeezing Castiel's hand. "I don't know why it's bothering me now. I think it's just the remembering it. That bit really stuck with me."
"I see." Castiel said, letting go of Dean's hand, and standing up. Striking Dean by surprise. What did he say to upset him. But Castiel walked to the desk, and picked up the saw. He walked back over to the bed, and sat down. Handing the Dean the saw with a pointed look. "That makes this more important. I need this thing off." He commanded.
"Cas." Dean argued, shaking his head.
"Dean." Castiel cut him off. "I promise, I'll take it easy for the next week. But the only thing this is doing now, is hindering my movements. Please." He asked, looking up at Dean with bright, pleading eyes. Dean groaned, taking the saw. How the Hell was he supposed to fight against those eyes?
He placed the blade on the spot Castiel had started, and began cutting away at the plaster. Making his movements careful and slow, so as not to hurt Castiel, and cut through his skin. The plaster cracking at every movement. Dean stopped when it looked like it could just be broken apart, placing his hands on either side of the cavern Dean had made with the saw. He pulled, using as much of his strength as he could at the odd angle. Picking up the saw again, to cut further down his leg when needed.
The cast coming off, finally, after ten minutes of work. Castiel flexed his leg gingerly, his pale skin stretching over what muscle was left. Castiel let out a sigh of relief as his skin hit the fresh air. Dean placing his hand on the newly liberated limb, the skin clammy with old sweat, and dirty after not being washed for three weeks. Castiel smiled in satisfaction as he leaned back and looked at Dean.
"Thank you." He said, smiling up at Dean. Dean leaning down to give Castiel a quick kiss on his lips in welcome. "And now, I think it's time for a shower." Castiel said, getting up and walking out of the room.
"Really?" Dean asked, a bit of whine in his voice. Castiel poked his head back in at Dean's question.
"Well, if you would like to join me." Castiel stated, pulling his head back out and walking down the hall. Dean wasn't going to let an invitation like that go, and got up quickly to follow. Regardless or not, if anything happened, he liked showers, and he liked the idea of a shower with Castiel.
There you go, John really does have a blind spot when it comes to his children, despite the cryptic clues Sam is giving him.
The next chapter my be up a bit late, as next Saturday is my birthday, and I will be too busy to update. But it will only be a day or two. Don't worry, it will be up.
As always, hope you enjoyed, and have a nice day.