Warnings: mild language
Summary: At moments like this, with declarations like that, Dean truly, deeply scares me.
Disclaimer: no one of the Family Winchester belongs to me. No money made, no harm done.
Good Little Soldier
"It's called being a good son!"
At moments like this, with declarations like that, Dean truly, deeply scares me. Not that I'm afraid of Dean, no, rather I'm afraid for him. What did Dad manage to do to Dean that hadn't worked on me? When had Dean become this good little soldier he seemed to be now? Unable or at least not willing to question our father's orders.
On the phone with Dad, I had demanded answers. It was natural for me. We had worried about him for so long with no word, no certain proof of life coming from him. Just his journal, coordinates and cryptic text messages.
Then came this call out of the blue. But Dad didn't even care to give us any explanations. No, he demanded us to abandon our search, to give up and to do as told.
And Dean had bought right into it.
The change came over him so damn fast, like a switch had been flipped in his head, turning my brother Dean, with all his snarky remarks, fast wits and easy lies, into a puppet without independent thoughts. If I didn't know better I would have said Dad had him brainwashed. But I know better. Which makes it worse somehow, because now I understand even less what's going on between Dean and our father.
First Dean comes to me with this quest of finding Dad, dragging me into it – granted after what happened to Jess I didn't require much persuading but that was because as much as I wanted to find Dad, I also wanted to get what had done that to Mum and Jess – and then 30 seconds on the phone and he drops it all. I know Dad didn't tell him more than he told me. Nothing in the way of an explanation.
After all this time and all the fights we had over the matter he gives up just like that! Like it was no matter at all, of no importance. As if it hadn't been our mother suspended from the ceiling twenty years ago, as if Dean hadn't dragged me out of a burning house while I had been frozen in shock over seeing my girlfriend like that. Like we hadn't spend six fucking months driving back and forth through the country trying to find Dad, hoping to find him still alive and not to be too late again.
Now we found out that he's well and able to pick up a damn phone. That all the worries have been for naught. There had been no need for Dean and I to go through all of this alone. The fears, the fights and the nightmares. Dad could have been with us all along!
And no, I don't buy into this shit that he had his reasons. Because if he did have valid ones he could have told us instead of just vanishing.
But Dean buys into it. God, even his tone of voice had changed after just a moment on the phone. So suddenly, so unexpectedly after tearing the phone out of my hand and showing his own impatience and need for answers.
Sitting there and watching my brother disappear in front of my eyes, it scares me and it hurts.
It's not like I don't feel some amount of respect for our father myself. Because I do. I can only imagine what he went through back then. When he had no idea what was happening. Losing Mom in such a violent and strange way, being left alone with his two sons and no explanation, no reason at all. Not even a hint.
Dean and I, we grew up with this shit. We always knew that evil spirits, demons and malevolent gods do exist and aren't just stories to scare children with. We learnt to fight from an early age. Even if I wanted to give this kind of life up, it still would always be a part of me. The night that Dean had unsuspectingly shown up at my place was proof of that.
But Dad hadn't had those benefits, hadn't always known. Still he came through. Learned so much about a world that before had been merely the construct of stories and fairy tales to him. His journal was a manifest to this learning process. From his first meeting with Missouri on.
Deep down I always felt some admiration for him because of what he went through and how he managed it. But that doesn't mean I agree with him on everything. While I now may understand his need to teach his two sons how to fight and to be wary of monsters hiding in closets, doesn't mean I don't think there had to be another way to deal with all that. Dean and I had had the right to at least a seemingly normal life.
We hadn't killed Mom.
So why was it me who ran away and went to college and Dean who stayed and developed such a split personality? What happened while I was away? I'm only hoping that knowing would make me understand. But asking Dean doesn't help.
His answers are worse than my questions.