"Conversations over a Gun Box and a Roadmap"

[blueiris08]

Rating: PG
Category: Gen
Characters: John, Dean, guest appearance by Sam.
Word Count: 6000
Spoilers: “Dead Man’s Blood”
Summary: “Maybe if John had confronted it right then, things would have gone differently. But he couldn’t ask without tipping his hand.”
Further author’s notes: For the record, I sketched out the plot and some of the dialogue for this

Comments

[innie_darling]

This was simply amazing. It took me as long as John to figure out where this was going - d'oh!

If Dean could feel it too, he’d understand that this would work. I wonder if John realizes how much he expects from Dean?

“He’s holding his own, has been since the beginning.” A note of pride colored Dean’s voice. “Kid might have fought you every step of the way, but he learned what you taught him.” I love Dean for not taking any of the credit he surely deserves.

A shadow passed across Dean’s eyes. “Sam and I had the same conversation in Chicago,” he said What I love most about this fic is that it's not just Dean playing John - it's Dean being honest, staking his life on everything he feels.

“Sights on a revolver weren’t worth shit until…when was it, Dad? The Civil War?” Dean asked, squinting as he lifted the gun back to firing position. Ooh. Took me two readings to get this.

Dean wiped the faint marks of his touch away from the gunmetal. I love the way this works to show Dean's disapproval.

“No, sir.” Dean spread his hands. “They were out, and I’ve gotten so used to using your journal that I didn’t think anything of it.” I love him so.

John picked up a pen from the table, only to set it back down when he felt tooth marks around the plastic. I love this detail, how much agonizing Dean must have gone through as he worked.

Like a baptism. Creeeeeeeeeeeeepy!

Another shadow crossed over Dean's face, a faint trace of sadness or even bitterness John, you bastard!

I listen to Sam, he listens to me. I don't hate John, but it's so damn typical of him only to hear half of what Dean says.

And possibly, Dean had earned the right to speak his mind. Duh, you think, John?

“I swear, Dad, I’ll always take care of Sammy, nothing will change, but I have to know. Is he my brother?” Oh, this is just heartbreaking!

“How long have you been planning this, you son of a bitch?” A thrill went through me when I read this line, I kid you not. Oh, DEAN!

So how long have you been planning it? Since Chicago? Since the beginning? Is that why you left like you did, so I’d go get him and keep him under control until you needed him? AMAZING.

He fumbled to pull up an echo of Sam’s voice. Wow, that's cold.

Once more, Dean cut him off. “Different. I’ve heard. I can tell, because I wouldn’t leave you alone by getting myself killed just for revenge.”
He turned his gaze back to his hands, studying his ring, and when he spoke again his voice was level and calm. “Maybe that kind of love is different, or maybe I didn’t love her enough, or maybe you’re both just selfish bastards. I don’t know.” He looked John in the eye again. “But what’s at stake is my brother’s life. Your son’s life.” God, Dean is just killing me!

“When this is over, Sam’s going to finish college. Don’t know how the kid found out that there was a life besides this one, but he’s going to have a chance to find out if he still wants it.” So lovely.

Unwillingly, John looked up at the man opposite him, the man who wasn’t just Mary’s son or Sammy’s caretaker or his own right hand. Absurdly, he thought he didn’t recognize him. This is just perfect.