SPN: Sins of the Father
Apr. 9th, 2011 06:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
storiesimakeupTitle: Sins of the Father
Post Date: October 24, 2005
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 1400
Rating: PG-13
Summary: John Winchester has made some mistakes.
Notes: Thanks toandrodaixa, as always, for being her super fantastic helpful self! So so much love!! Much love and thanks as well to autumnyte! I gave her a handful of plot bunnies to choose from, and she picked this one and stuck around for hand-holding and such. *luffs*
Sins of the Father
John Winchester was cursed with a photographic memory. He'd always found it an asset in his line of work. The ability to remember the minute details had saved his life more than once. However, it also allowed him to see the progression of the mistakes he'd made with his sons—how he had failed as a parent.
He remembered Dean as a baby, what a social, affectionate child he'd been. Dean was such a little charmer even before he could walk. He was always smiling or laughing, such an infectious little laugh.
Sometimes it was hard for John to remember Dean like that, because after, Dean's unconditional smiles stopped. He reserved them for Sam and Sam alone, like they were in short supply. John remembered asking Dean why he was always trying so hard to make Sam laugh. Dean had looked up at him with solemn eyes and said, "He should know how to be happy, shouldn’t he?"
John had walked away without answering, still too deeply wrapped in the pain of Mary's death to take more than a passing note of serious little boy his son had become. He walked away before he could tell Dean that it was best not to give Sam a false idea of what the world was like.
There were a few times when John had tried to give the boys a normal life, but it hadn't worked out. On Dean's first day of school, Sam was inconsolable. He cried until Dean came home, and Dean refused to go back the next day because it made Sammy so sad.
Instead of taking it as a warning sign, John decided to home school the boys.
Sam was nine when he started crawling into bed with Dean at night, after an unfortunate incident with his closet being haunted. He would wait until he thought John was asleep and then creep out of his bed, noisy in the way that only a nine year old trying to be quiet can be.
Dean would throw back his covers without opening his eyes and wait for Sam to settle down, his head tucked against Dean's shoulder, before tucking the blankets around Sam's body. John should have lectured Sam on being a man and fighting his own battles, but part of him thought that Sam should be allowed to be coddled just a little. He knew that sometimes you had to take comfort where you could.
Instead of explaining the concept of boundaries, John started getting hotel rooms and apartments with just one bed for the boys in order to save money.
John tried for normalcy again when Dean was in high school, and for awhile it seemed to work. Sam was an excellent student, Dean started to form some tentative friendships, and they were both trained enough that John could leave them alone for a few days at a time when he went hunting.
When Dean was seventeen, a girl in his class asked him to homecoming. For the entire week leading up to the dance, Dean strutted around like he owned the world, and Sam became increasingly morose.
John remembered the night of the dance, how the girl came to the house to meet Dean's family. He didn't know what time Dean got home that night, but he woke up at two a.m. to the sound of angry voices. He'd laid awake, listening to the argument.
"I don’t like her."
"You didn’t even talk to her."
"I don’t care." A long pause and then Sam asked, "Do you like her better than me? Are you going to marry her and leave?"
"I’ll never leave you, Sammy. Nobody is more important than you."
"So you won’t see her again?"
"If that’s what you want."
"That’s what I want."
"Okay."
Instead of telling Dean that he should be dating girls at his age, the next day he once again explained to the boys the importance of family loyalty, because they weren't like other people.
When Sam was fifteen, he was almost killed by a poltergeist in Georgia. He had to be taken to the hospital, something John usually tried to avoid. John left Dean alone in Sam's room while he went to give the hospital some false insurance information. When he got back to the room, Dean was stroking Sam's hair away from his forehead, bent over his bed, speaking to him in hushed words that were for Sam's ears alone.
Dean sat up straight when John walked into the room, his hand coming to rest over Sam's heart. "I'm sorry, Dad. I should have protected him better."
Instead of assuring his son that things like this happened, John just nodded and said, "You'll know better next time." And when he walked away, he tried to forget the proprietary way that Dean stood over Sam's hospital bed.
But he couldn't forget. That was John's curse. He couldn't forget it, and he couldn't ignore it-- the growing number of signs that for his sons, he had created a world where only they existed, and he had no idea how to fix it without shattering them all to pieces.
So John stood by and watched, helpless to do anything else until the day that Sam announced his acceptance to Stanford. John saw it in Sam’s eyes, the intense desire to be normal that he had somehow missed before, and in it, he saw his solution.
"If you leave, you better stay gone," he told Sam, praying that Sam would be strong enough to leave.
The day Sam left, Dean got puking drunk, instigated a bar fight, and came home with a black eye and three broken fingers. John was just thankful that he hadn’t killed anyone, and spent the next day lecturing Dean on the stupidity of his actions.
"How can you be of any help to me in this condition?"
"S'too bad Sammy isn't here to help," he said into the toilet right before he started puking again.
"Your brother chose to pursue something else, knowing what it would cost him," John said slowly. "He chose to pursue it." He didn’t choose you.
"He chose—" A bout of dry heaving cut Dean off.
"Sam deserves a chance at happiness."
Dean turned to look at John then, his eyes full of unspoken misery. "And I don't?"
"Get some rest. We have work to do." John turned and left the room, unable to tell Dean that he was sorry. That he'd had to choose-- he couldn't let both of them go and Sam was the one with the best chance at having a normal life. He knew he'd done what was best for both of them.
They developed a new efficiency in hunting. Dean became colder, more focused without Sam's distracting presence, and soon they were splitting up to investigate different leads. Each time they met up again, John was surprised again at how stoic Dean had become, but John began to realize that just below Dean's stoicism was a simmering rage.
John's days of turning a blind eye were over, and he could see Dean's growing hatred for him warring with a family loyalty so deeply engrained in his soul that he would never ever question it.
John has an excellent memory, and he knows each and every one of the mistakes he's made by heart. He has spent the years since Sam's left going over them as a nightly ritual.
When John hears about the men disappearing on a lonely stretch of highway, he tells Dean that he'll take this one. He packs carefully, plans, and makes sure that everything is in order.
As he finally drives off, John looks in his rearview mirror and sees Dean watching him go, an unreadable expression on his face. He has passed on everything he knows, and he is secure in the knowledge that Dean can take care of himself.
John knows the mistakes he's made, even if his sons don't. He knows he can never explain, only do what he can to try and fix it, because maybe the boys would have been better off if he'd left a long time ago.
He just hopes that someday they'll understand.
Post Date: October 24, 2005
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 1400
Rating: PG-13
Summary: John Winchester has made some mistakes.
Notes: Thanks to
androdaixa, as always, for being her super fantastic helpful self! So so much love!! Much love and thanks as well to autumnyte! I gave her a handful of plot bunnies to choose from, and she picked this one and stuck around for hand-holding and such. *luffs*John Winchester was cursed with a photographic memory. He'd always found it an asset in his line of work. The ability to remember the minute details had saved his life more than once. However, it also allowed him to see the progression of the mistakes he'd made with his sons—how he had failed as a parent.
He remembered Dean as a baby, what a social, affectionate child he'd been. Dean was such a little charmer even before he could walk. He was always smiling or laughing, such an infectious little laugh.
Sometimes it was hard for John to remember Dean like that, because after, Dean's unconditional smiles stopped. He reserved them for Sam and Sam alone, like they were in short supply. John remembered asking Dean why he was always trying so hard to make Sam laugh. Dean had looked up at him with solemn eyes and said, "He should know how to be happy, shouldn’t he?"
John had walked away without answering, still too deeply wrapped in the pain of Mary's death to take more than a passing note of serious little boy his son had become. He walked away before he could tell Dean that it was best not to give Sam a false idea of what the world was like.
There were a few times when John had tried to give the boys a normal life, but it hadn't worked out. On Dean's first day of school, Sam was inconsolable. He cried until Dean came home, and Dean refused to go back the next day because it made Sammy so sad.
Instead of taking it as a warning sign, John decided to home school the boys.
Sam was nine when he started crawling into bed with Dean at night, after an unfortunate incident with his closet being haunted. He would wait until he thought John was asleep and then creep out of his bed, noisy in the way that only a nine year old trying to be quiet can be.
Dean would throw back his covers without opening his eyes and wait for Sam to settle down, his head tucked against Dean's shoulder, before tucking the blankets around Sam's body. John should have lectured Sam on being a man and fighting his own battles, but part of him thought that Sam should be allowed to be coddled just a little. He knew that sometimes you had to take comfort where you could.
Instead of explaining the concept of boundaries, John started getting hotel rooms and apartments with just one bed for the boys in order to save money.
John tried for normalcy again when Dean was in high school, and for awhile it seemed to work. Sam was an excellent student, Dean started to form some tentative friendships, and they were both trained enough that John could leave them alone for a few days at a time when he went hunting.
When Dean was seventeen, a girl in his class asked him to homecoming. For the entire week leading up to the dance, Dean strutted around like he owned the world, and Sam became increasingly morose.
John remembered the night of the dance, how the girl came to the house to meet Dean's family. He didn't know what time Dean got home that night, but he woke up at two a.m. to the sound of angry voices. He'd laid awake, listening to the argument.
"I don’t like her."
"You didn’t even talk to her."
"I don’t care." A long pause and then Sam asked, "Do you like her better than me? Are you going to marry her and leave?"
"I’ll never leave you, Sammy. Nobody is more important than you."
"So you won’t see her again?"
"If that’s what you want."
"That’s what I want."
"Okay."
Instead of telling Dean that he should be dating girls at his age, the next day he once again explained to the boys the importance of family loyalty, because they weren't like other people.
When Sam was fifteen, he was almost killed by a poltergeist in Georgia. He had to be taken to the hospital, something John usually tried to avoid. John left Dean alone in Sam's room while he went to give the hospital some false insurance information. When he got back to the room, Dean was stroking Sam's hair away from his forehead, bent over his bed, speaking to him in hushed words that were for Sam's ears alone.
Dean sat up straight when John walked into the room, his hand coming to rest over Sam's heart. "I'm sorry, Dad. I should have protected him better."
Instead of assuring his son that things like this happened, John just nodded and said, "You'll know better next time." And when he walked away, he tried to forget the proprietary way that Dean stood over Sam's hospital bed.
But he couldn't forget. That was John's curse. He couldn't forget it, and he couldn't ignore it-- the growing number of signs that for his sons, he had created a world where only they existed, and he had no idea how to fix it without shattering them all to pieces.
So John stood by and watched, helpless to do anything else until the day that Sam announced his acceptance to Stanford. John saw it in Sam’s eyes, the intense desire to be normal that he had somehow missed before, and in it, he saw his solution.
"If you leave, you better stay gone," he told Sam, praying that Sam would be strong enough to leave.
The day Sam left, Dean got puking drunk, instigated a bar fight, and came home with a black eye and three broken fingers. John was just thankful that he hadn’t killed anyone, and spent the next day lecturing Dean on the stupidity of his actions.
"How can you be of any help to me in this condition?"
"S'too bad Sammy isn't here to help," he said into the toilet right before he started puking again.
"Your brother chose to pursue something else, knowing what it would cost him," John said slowly. "He chose to pursue it." He didn’t choose you.
"He chose—" A bout of dry heaving cut Dean off.
"Sam deserves a chance at happiness."
Dean turned to look at John then, his eyes full of unspoken misery. "And I don't?"
"Get some rest. We have work to do." John turned and left the room, unable to tell Dean that he was sorry. That he'd had to choose-- he couldn't let both of them go and Sam was the one with the best chance at having a normal life. He knew he'd done what was best for both of them.
They developed a new efficiency in hunting. Dean became colder, more focused without Sam's distracting presence, and soon they were splitting up to investigate different leads. Each time they met up again, John was surprised again at how stoic Dean had become, but John began to realize that just below Dean's stoicism was a simmering rage.
John's days of turning a blind eye were over, and he could see Dean's growing hatred for him warring with a family loyalty so deeply engrained in his soul that he would never ever question it.
John has an excellent memory, and he knows each and every one of the mistakes he's made by heart. He has spent the years since Sam's left going over them as a nightly ritual.
When John hears about the men disappearing on a lonely stretch of highway, he tells Dean that he'll take this one. He packs carefully, plans, and makes sure that everything is in order.
As he finally drives off, John looks in his rearview mirror and sees Dean watching him go, an unreadable expression on his face. He has passed on everything he knows, and he is secure in the knowledge that Dean can take care of himself.
John knows the mistakes he's made, even if his sons don't. He knows he can never explain, only do what he can to try and fix it, because maybe the boys would have been better off if he'd left a long time ago.
He just hopes that someday they'll understand.
