Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Warnings: pre-series for both shows in this chapter. Will contain spoilers for up to Season 2 of Glee and I would say up to Season 3 of Supernatural.
No pairings for now.
Of Fathers and Sons
By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
-Macbeth, Act IV, scene 1, lines 44-45
Kurt was seven the first time he realized that his dad wasn't like other dads. He used to be gone for long periods of time—days, weeks, once even for an entire month. Business trips, his mom called them. While his dad was gone, his mom would take care of their tire shop. Even though Kurt hated for his dad to leave, he always loved it when his mom took care of the shop because she always let him answer the phone when it rang, so long as he remembered to speak clearly when he answered.
It wasn't until his dad came home severely injured from one of those business trips that Kurt knew something didn't quite add up.
It was supposed to be a short one—only a weekend—but it had coincided with one of his piano recitals. His dad had promised—promised—that he would be there, that he would be home by Sunday afternoon so that he could go.
Sunday morning came, but his dad was nowhere to be found.
"He'll be here," his mom assured him.
When he still wasn't back by the time they had to leave, his mom looked worried, but still assured him that he would be there.
"We'll just go now, so you won't be late, and he can meet us there," she told him with a bright smile on her face. "And afterward, the three of us can go get ice cream."
But when Kurt's turn finally came, his dad still wasn't there. His mom was there, sitting in the front row, but the seat next to her—the one they'd saved for his dad—was empty. It was the first time his dad had ever broken a promise to him.
Kurt watched out his bedroom window for the rest of the day, straining to catch even a glimpse of his father's beat-up truck, but none ever came.
He woke up later that night to yelling. He slipped out of his room and down the stairs as quietly as he could, being sure to avoid the creaky one, so that he could hear what was being said.
His dad was on the couch, but his face was bruised and swollen, and his chest was wrapped up with white bandages. There was another man there, standing next to the coach with his arms folded across his chest.
"What in the world were you thinking, John Winchester, dragging him along for one of your suicide jobs? You could have gotten him killed—you could have both been killed!" his mom was yelling at the man, which was really bad, Kurt knew, because she only ever yelled if she was really angry.
She didn't even give the man a chance to answer, spinning around and pointing a finger at his dad instead. "And you! Do you know how worried I was when you didn't show up this morning, when you didn't even bother to call? How upset Kurt was that you missed his recital? He waited for you all day long, you know, sitting in front of his window."
The other man began talking to his mom in a low tone that Kurt couldn't quite hear, even when he moved down another two steps—the lowest he could go without being seen—but that seemed to do nothing but make her mad.
"Get out! And the next time you decide you want to get yourself killed, leave my husband out of it!"
The next thing Kurt heard was the thud of the front door being closed.
It was a long time before he heard his mom again.
"I can't do this anymore, Burt. I just can't."
His dad sighed. "What do you want me to do, Mollie? Want me to just stop?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed. "I do. I want you to stop."
There was another long pause. "You know that I can't."
"Kurt's getting older, Burt, and he's starting to ask questions. He's a smart boy. What am I supposed to tell him when he asks where you are? When he wonders why you've missed out on yet another moment of his life? You've already missed so many—his first steps, his first word, his first day of kindergarten! How many others are you going to miss? What happened today can't happen again. He's old enough now that he's starting to notice things. You should have seen how upset he was—how disappointed he was!—when you didn't show up. We—me and Kurt—we have to be your first priority."
Kurt was so very confused. He didn't understand what they were talking about for the most part, but he knew that it wasn't good especially the part when his mom said something about his dad being killed. He knew that that meant dead, but it was different. It wasn't like when Maria, his dog, died last year. She'd been really old. It was like in one of those crime shows that his mom loved to watch. He wasn't allowed to watch, but sometimes he would sneak downstairs, like he was doing then, and listen. So he knew that being killed was when someone was dead because of something that someone else did. Just thinking about his dad being dead—killed or otherwise—made his stomach ache, and his chest feel all tight like when he was about to cry.
"You think I don't know that?" his dad said, raising his voice for the first time. "You think I don't regret missing out on those things? Damn it, Mollie, you know how much I love him? You are my priority; why else would I be doing this? I'm trying to keep you—both of you—safe! I'm trying to make the world a safer place for him."
He couldn't help it when he felt his eyes begin to burn with tears because he'd never heard his dad yell before—not ever—and now he was yelling at his mom. Kurt didn't like it. It scared him. The things they were talking about scared him. His dad being hurt scared him. Thinking about his dad being dead scared him. Before he even knew what was happening, huge gulping sobs were pouring out from him.
It only took a minute or so for his mom to move from she was sitting on the couch to where he was huddled on the staircase. She took one look at him and scooped him into her arms. His dad joined them a minute later, wrapping his arms around both of them. Together they took him back up to his room, soothed his tears, and tucked him into bed.