Story contains flashbacks and the actual story line. I tried to make each chapter one word that describes what's going on. And I tried to place that word in the chapter, not that hard, but pretty fun. Not like my other stories. I've been working on this one since the summer and I'm really proud of the finished product. :D
WARNINGS: Self-Mutilation, Language; Insults not tintended to offend anyone personally.
Disclaimer: Winchesters are not mine. Let's all be sad together.
A/N: After Episode 1.20 Dead Man's Blood, pre Salvation. AU fic.. Enjoy.
Sam and John's argumenting gets too much for Dean to handle...
By: chocolate rules
They were in the middle of a hunt. It was taking longer than any of them had expected and it was taking its toil on them.
They had finally managed to reach the scared victims that night. Sam and Dean were to get them out of there while John was going to go after the damn thing himself. That was the plan. However, that was a plan that John had created and had not bothered telling his sons about until the four frightened victims were found deep in the basement of the old building.
This revelation sparked anger from both boys, but one of them voiced it.
"Wait! You can't expect us to just go..."
"Yes, Sam, I can and I do! I need you and Dean to take these people back to safety!"
"And what about you? You're just going to waltz in there and kill it? When we're not even sure what the hell the damn thing is!" Sam yelled.
"Just get them out of here..." and it continued like this for another minute or two.
Both Winchesters were arguing about the lack of knowledge and time, and yet there they stood wasting away precious daylight. Any moment now, the sky would darken and then they would all learn once and for all what the damn thing was. The freaks come out at night. And they always strayed towards the trio, but God forbid that John and Sam go a day without an argument.
His whole life, Dean had been the buffer. He was between Dad and Sammy. Always. He could either be the good son, the sightless soldier, seeking out revenge. Or he could be the protector, the brother, heck the parent to Sam. The older he got the more he realized that try as he might, he could never be both. If he sided with one, he was against the other.
How was he to choose between his father, his protector, and his Sammy, his baby brother? Where are your loyalties supposed to lie?
Dean listened and stood back as the argument escalated. Normally, he would try and put a stop to it. Normally, he was right in the heart of it. Normally, he wouldn't be shaking his head and walking those little steps.
"Shut up," he barely manages out as a whisper. The argument continues and it seems that neither Winchester had even noticed that the middle man who backing away.
Their audience however did notice. They took his retreat as a sign that they too should further themselves from the escalating tension.
"Shut up!!!" Dean yelled, and this time he was heard by all. John stopped mid sentence and shot a questioning glance towards his oldest. However, all that he could see of Dean was the top of his head as the boy covered his face with his hands.
His weapon lay forgotten at his feet where he had suddenly dropped it. Sam looked at Dean and unlike his father he didn't need to see Dean to know what his expression would show. Fear. Love. Anger. Rage. Dean was a mess of emotions and he knew that he and his father was the cause for it.
"Dean?" Sam said a second later breaking the unwelcome silence before it got to overwhelming.
"No! No Sam! Don't try and say that everything is okay! It can never be okay with the two of you! I mean can't you two just shut the hell up long enough to get this people out of here safely. Does it even matter who has to do it? NO! It doesn't! But leave it to you two to find any little glitch that would make that plan seem like it'll be the end of the world..." Dean stopped yelling to catch his breath. Sam remained silent. They had started hunting with their father again; a whole year had passed since Dean had last seen his father. Sam didn't even want to remember his last real encounter with his father since it had not been too pleasant.
John however had thought, apparently, that his sons had changed nothing from the two boys he had following him around answering his every order. Sam knew- always had- more about Dean then was possible for John to know. Though he always admired the relationship between Dean and their father, he knew that it was just the chain of command to John and a memory of the old John to Dean. Sam and Dean held a stronger bond. That bond spoke to him even, especially, when Dean wouldn't. And right now, that bond was telling him that Dean needed a moment to cool off.
Leave it to John to not know this little fact about his own son and start in on him as soon as the last words slip from Dean's lips. And leave it to him to press the little buttons of control that Dean had managed to not tick off.
"Dean," he started taking a small step towards the younger man. Dean still held his head in his hands and refused to look up to meet his father's gaze. Unfazed by the lack of response and backed with the knowledge that Dean was in fact listening to him, John continued his ravaged reprimand.
"I don't know what you think you're doing right now, but you better calm yourself down. Real fast…"
Dean however had already started in his own rampage and he was way too old to be intimidated into silence. He dropped his hands and was surprised that they shimmered with the tears that they had captured. He maintained his gaze towards the floor. He knew that if he did face his father, his upbringing would kick in and he would shut his mouth good and hard.
"No," he said with a little shake of the head. He spoke calmly at first, this being his father and all, but his voice seemed to escalate once again as he spoke. "I don't need to calm down. I'm always the one to back off. You two, God!, you two are teeth and nails and you couldn't care less about anything else. Just getting your goddamn way and I'm just about sick of it!
"You'd think that after all this time apart, you two would grow the fuck up and start understanding each other. But no! That's impossible. Not in you. And why should now be any different!!" Dean was staring straight ahead now, avoiding his father and his brother but not hanging down anymore. His breath was starting to come in hard wavered intervals.
John looked like he was to cut in, but Dean was intended on continuing. If he was going to get killed at least his father should know his whole view points.
"And now that both of you have the same revenge thing working for you, you think that you'd try and help each other and not starting biting at each others' throats! No! You bitch at each other and then expect me to put you two back together! Well, that's not my job!!" Now he was looking at John. He had gathered enough momentum to keep this little monologue going. If he kept this a monologue and prevented John, or even the silenced Sam, from speaking then he would be all out and they wouldn't be able to say anything because they'd all know he was right.
Sam took a step forward, mirroring John's position to the left of Dean. It looked like they were preparing to ambush him. Or at least John looked it; he knew that Sam wouldn't take him out for exploding like this.
"If I have to be the one to take these people to safety," Dean emphasized nudging his head towards the small crowd retreated in the back corner of the large basement. "Or if I have to finish this damn thing of myself then just tell me!! You two obviously can't handle this anymore.
"This isn't something to be taken lightly! These are human lives here!" Dean said, this time pointing out the obvious victims. This motion caused Sam to look at them and noticed that the two women held frightened looks. He tried to offer them a smile but felt it come off a little weak.
"Have you forgotten what that means?! Are you that dense and self involved! And… goddamn you two can't you just shut the fuck up long enough to finish something!!!"
And then Dean did something completely unexpected. He took off his second, back-up gun and his knife and dropped them on the floor. He then backed away from the weapons as if they were harmful to him now. As if they were the source of all his discontent.
Then, he turned and ran off pass Sam and up the stairs.
He kept running until he reached his precious baby. And then, he kept running towards the woods some half a mile from where they were. He had breached a border and had lost control. He knew off only one outlet.
Back in the basement, Sam and John watched as Dean flew past them and away. They heard as he hurried further away and out of the house.
Sam turned and saw his own feelings mirrored on his father's face. It was a rare split second but John was full of wonder and worry and fear and possibly regret.
"Dad?" Sam asked real soft like. He had never, not ever seen Dean erupt like this. And then worse yet, storm off. He wanted to go after him, but the truth was, he wasn't even sure that he could do anything to help Dean out right now. The only thing that would help Dean would be him and their father to stop arguing. The sun was setting and the darkness was coming and the Winchester men were no closer to finding this damn thing then they had been earlier this morning. And now they were even one man down.
John shrugged in response to Sam's question. He had never seen Dean like this either. His son had always been, well exemplary in following a command. Though he had always stood up for Sammy, Dean had never taken an actual attack to John or Sam for that matter. Something was seriously wrong.
Sam walked up to the weapons, intended to pick them up and have them at the ready if Dean was to return. WHEN! When Dean returned.
Sam stopped as he mentally went over Dean's inventory. Two guns and one knife. Something was missing.
If Dean returns. The thought returned to him as he realized why Dean had ran off so fast for.
With a new look of fear, and praying that his father didn't ask for an explanation, Sam turned and managed to tell his father one thing before he too flew up the stairs and out the door.
"Dad, Dean still has his pocketknife."