Being Cruel To Be Kind.

Summary. . . . . . Just what went on the night Sam left for Stanford? And could there have been a different reason for John's vicious words that day?

Disclaimer. . . . . . Written for fun and nothing else, they don't belong to me I just, as always, love playing with them.

A.N. . . . . . . . Happy Birthday Canada! This is what bank holidays are made for, sunbathing writing and spending time with the hubby. Written in an hour whilst he snored his head off on the lounger. As always thanks for reading, hope you enjoy, Peanut x

It was three o clock in the morning on a balmy mid July night, yet a light still shone dimly from the downstairs window of the last house of a ramshackle row, the latest in a very long line of Winchester rentals, not the worst they had ever stayed in, nor the best, but it served their purposes and beat by far the dilapidated motels they usually stayed in. Seeping past threadbare curtains too small for the windows they hung from the light, whilst not unusual to be on so late, was usually accompanied by the ritual tapping of computer keys, or the careful turning of the dry old pages of the latest book the eldest Winchester was perusing. Tonight though the only sounds permeating the muggy air were the creaks and groans of the old chair John was sat in, and the occasional thump as a glass hit the table he was sat by. Tonight John's usual ritual of research was being disrupted as he contemplated his next move.

An overheard phone conversation he had caught a month previously was rerunning itself through his mind; a conversation between his youngest son, Sam, and his closest friend, Jim Murphy. A phone conversation John had no doubt he wasn't suppose to hear. Although one sided, John could make out the gist of what they were talking about, his youngest had been accepted to Stanford on a full scholarship. John's heart had soared with pride and thankfulness, and plummeted with fear as he carried on listening; pride at what his son had managed to achieve despite all the curve balls he had been thrown all his life; thankfulness at Sam finding a way out of this life, at finding a way to escape the demons John knew to be coming his way; fear at having to let his son go, but also at the realization the more the conversation went on, that Sam had no intention of going. No matter how desperately he wanted to, he was unwilling to leave Dean, unwilling to leave his Dad. And so it was that John had spent nearly every night since exactly like he was spending this one, trying to come up with a plan that would force Sam to take the opportunity he had been given.

So far though the only plan he could come up with, the only plan he thought might work, he didn't like. The results would destroy his small family possibly for ever. Was it worth taking that risk? John was now beginning to think that it was, that there was no other choice. Gulping down the rest of his whiskey and relishing the burning sensation as it dribbled down his throat, John slammed the beaker down, rose from his chair and with a stolen letter in hand stormed up the stairs. It was now or never, if he put if off any longer he would never do it, and then it would be too late. He barged into the room his two sons shared and took a deep breath before bellowing. "When were you going to tell us Sam?" As his youngest sons head popped timidly from beneath his bed covers, John continued refusing to allow Sam time to answer. "Was we just going to wake up one morning and find you gone?"

"Dad? What's going on? Why are you shouting at Sam? What are you talking about?" Dean asked.

"I'm talking about this Dean!" John stated, as he brought Sam's acceptance letter from behind his back.

"Where did you get that?" Sam stammered out.

"Does it matter? I can't believe you were just going to up and leave us Sam." John chose his next words carefully, aiming to hurt his youngest with vicious barbs and arouse the stubbornness and rebelliousness that he knew his son possessed. "You really are one selfish bastard. After everything Dean and I have done for you, given up for you, lost because of you, you pay us back by betraying us?"

Dean and John watched as Sam's hackles rose, but still he refused to be baited into an argument. Dean trying to calm the situation down spoke up.

"Dad, what are you talking about?" John though refused to acknowledge his eldest child, choosing instead to stand there throwing glaring daggers at his youngest boy. Turning slightly, Dean tried instead to get through to his brother.

"Sam?" But his brother's stubbornness was beginning to take hold and he too remained quiet, and glaring with just as much intensity his father's way.

Hearing Dean's words John knew he would have to act fast, Dean could always manage to eventually calm Sam down, something John knew he couldn't allow to happen this time. His youngest son's life depended on it.

"Sam's been keeping secrets, been making plans to leave us behind. He thinks he's so much better than us, that we've obviously been holding him back in life. He's been accepted to Stanford and he's gonna go, but for some unknown reason he didn't deem it relevant that we should know. Oh no we don't deserve the decency of being told, he was just gonna leave, probably in the middle of the night. He's selfish, he doesn't care about anybody but himself, doesn't care how many lives will be lost, just as long as he gets what he wants. He's a coward."

John felt like he was going to be sick, that his heart was being ripped from his chest as he spoke the horrible untrue words to his son, but they had the desired affect on Sam, his youngest boys face becoming beet red, the veins pulsated on his neck, his eyes becoming stormy clouds of emotion as he listened. Finally he bubbled over and spat angry words back.

"I wasn't going to go but now I think it would be better if I did, that it would be the best place for me. I thought you would have at least been pleased, proud of me for what I had achieved, but no! As always it's the hunt that comes first, the hunt that you care about more. Well I'm sorry Dad, but I don't think that way, I don't think the way that you do. I might be selfish, I might be a coward, but at least I'm not a self obsessed stubborn bastard, who always puts his children's lives last."

John's hand had struck out then catching Sam across the face, his voice shouting "get the hell out of here" even as his head and heart were crying "Sammy, I'm so very sorry, please don't go."

"Don't worry I'm gone!" Sam yelled back his own hand cupping his smarting cheek.

"Make sure you stay gone Sam! You're no longer a part of this family." John's heart was literally breaking as he said those final words. He badly wanted to tell Sam he didn't mean the words he had just spoken, that he loved him dearly and was only trying to save him; but he knew if he did Sam would stay. So he stood there stony faced as Sam threw a few belongings in a duffel before fleeing the room. As he looked at Dean's disbelieving, shocked face, John just hoped that one day both his son's could forgive him for what he had just done. Turning he left, the whiskey he had been drinking earlier calling him once again.

A.N.2. . . . . . I had the idea for this after John's conversation with yellow eyes, and his revelation that he had known what the plans were for Sam. It never progressed to anything other than a thought until AHBL1 where yellow eyes tells Sam he killed Jess so that Sam would return to the hunt. I kinda came up with the thought that maybe John knew if he kept Sam away from all things hunting he would be overlooked, little realizing that it mattered neither way. Catch you soon, Peanut x

Oh, and in case you're interested, I have finally finished the last chapter to A Simple Salt And Burn too, that will be posted just as soon as I have typed it up!