Denial, Comfort Me - Sam/Dean
Title: Denial, Comfort Me
Pairing: John!centric fic, Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2117
Disclaimer: You can sue me for my 20 thousand dollars worth of school debt if you really want to.
Summary: He didn’t understand this change in them. Couldn’t put his finger on what it meant; where it had come from. Until last night.
Denial, Comfort Me
Something had changed in his boys. Something substantial and elusive; shared between them. Something John didn’t understand.
Oh, he saw the symptoms of this change alright; was shocked when he first saw them.
Somewhere between the time he had left his eldest son and now Dean had grown a back bone. In all Dean’s life he had never talked back to John. Not when he was seven and John told him they couldn’t buy the batman toy he wanted so much. Not when he was 15 and he had moved them away from his first girlfriend. Not even when John had said those words, those hateful, terrible words, that had driven Sam away from them for four long years. Don’t come back.
Even then Dean had stayed silent, his good little soldier. Hadn’t protested even though John could see the pain in his son’s eyes.
But now he was standing up to John. Fighting for Sam and for himself. And John didn’t like it, not one bit. Except… he could see the strength in Dean’s eyes when his son finally took what he wanted for the first time in his life; the bravery it took to stand up to the one man who had ever been able to control him. John wasn’t so sure that he didn’t like that.
And Sam… his little Sammy, who John still saw as a puppy-eyed 5 year old, staring up at him from behind a book that was far too mature for a child his age. There was a loyalty in him that had never been there before.
The loyalty that John had always received from Dean without a thought he had had to pull from Sam like poison from a wound. He had drilled into his youngest child the importance of family and loyalty since he was too small to remember, but still Sam had left.
And now he stood beside his brother like John had always wished he would. United with him; protective of him. Backing Dean up and daring anyone to try to hurt him. Together his boys were stronger than any force John had ever seen; more deadly than anything he had ever fought in his long life of hunting. He knew that together they would be safe.
But he didn’t understand this change in them. Couldn’t put his finger on what it meant; where it had come from. Until last night.
He had gone for a drive after his boys were sleeping, to clear his head. It wasn’t the first time he had done it. When they were younger he would leave for hours sometimes after a hunt, needing to be alone, needing to clear his head and get ready for the next one.
He could still remember them, his sweet boys. Remembered coming back to the apartment or motel to see them sleeping soundly, untouched by the nightmares that came from the world around them. Sometimes he would find Sam curled up in Dean’s bed. Nine years old with one hand wrapped around Dean’s shirt, the other clutched tightly around the teddy bear he kept hidden in his duffle-bag until the lights went out.
But last night he hadn’t wanted to risk being gone too long. His boys were older now, far more capable of taking care of themselves than they had been so long ago, but times were changing. The world around them was growing darker and he didn’t want to leave them alone.
He had expected to come back to find them sleeping, like before. To see them quiet and innocent in a way only sleep could bring. Instead… he had seen too much.
He would never forget the looks on their faces. The sick, fear-filled surprise in Dean’s wide eyes. The anguish that made Sam turn away, eyes closing as his hands gripped his brother’s shoulders just a little tighter.
John had run then. Got back in his truck and drove for hours with Dean’s frightened eyes clouding his vision. But he had returned, unable to leave, even with this… this thing filling his mind. Because his boys were still in danger. They still needed to finish this.
When he finally opened the door he expected to see the same guilt and fear he had seen the night before. Expected them to be on opposite sides of the room, Sam quiet and brooding; Dean waiting, his good little soldier.
What he found was the same unified front that he had come up against already.
Sam sat in one of the dirty kitchen chairs, hand curled tightly around Dean’s while his eldest leaned against the table, eyes strong and defiant when John walked in. He didn’t let go of Sam’s hand.
“Dean, I want to talk to you outside,” John said tightly, not looking either of his boys in the eye.
“Anything you want to say to me-”
“Outside, Dean. Now.” And for some reason, he didn’t--couldn’t--understand, John hated that Dean did what he said. Hated the way the bravery slipped away and he was the old Dean again; all blind obedience, no questions asked.
Dean pushed away from the table, hand releasing Sam’s, but Sam didn’t let go. He was standing with his brother, that defiant set to his chin, ready to fight for Dean because Dean wouldn’t. “Dad, you can’t do this. You can’t blame-”
John gave him a look that hadn’t worked on Sam since he was twelve, but he still tried. “Sit down, Sam.” And all that anger that Sam saved just for John came boiling to the surface and John started to wonder if he could actually take Sam on and win. He wasn’t so sure anymore.
But Dean came to the rescue, like always, like he had done a thousand times before Sam left for school. He stepped between them, back turned to John, his free hand moving to Sam’s chest to hold him back.
John couldn’t see their faces or hear their words; wasn‘t even sure they were speaking. But Sam’s fingers tightened around Dean’s palm once more before slipping away, then he sat back down and stared resolutely at the floor while Dean turned back to John.
His son followed faithfully, closing the door behind him and waiting patiently next to the truck while John got his bearings. He felt old all of a sudden. Too many years behind him, too much done and seen to have to be dealing with this. With his boys and what they had done.
John sighed and turned to Dean, not ready--he’d never be ready--but needing to say what he had come to say. He knew what Sam had been going to accuse John of in the room, all anger and fierce protectiveness. ‘You can’t blame Dean for this.’
That wasn’t the problem though. It was the logical choice, sure. Dean was older, he was supposed to be taking care of Sam. He must have been the one to lead his little brother down this path.
But John knew his boys. Maybe not as well as he had thought, but he knew them, knew who they were deep down inside. And he knew, he knew, that Dean would ever hurt his little brother. Especially not for his own desires. Not for anything.
He knew that Dean didn’t start… this. Whatever it was. He would never risk the possibility of this thing hurting Sam.
But John also knew that Dean would never say no to Sammy. All their lives Dean had given Sam everything his heart desired, screw the consequences to himself. If Sam was happy, Dean was happy.
So no, John didn’t blame Dean for this. But he wasn’t so sure about Sam.
“Dean…”
Wide green eyes came up to meet his and John’s heart broke. Those eyes Mary’s eyes held so much strength. A strength John had never really seen before, though he was starting to wonder if it hadn’t always been there.
“Tell me you want this,” John demanded, just enough force behind his words to let Dean know it wasn’t a request.
“Dad…” Dean turned away, his face a war of emotions.
But John had to know. He needed to know this, even if he didn’t really ever want to think about it. Hands on his son’s shoulders, he pulled Dean back, made him look at him. “Dean, I’m serious,” he said, gripping tightly. “Look me in the eye and tell me you want this. That it’s not for Sam. That he…”
Horror washed over Dean’s face and he pulled away from his father, breath hissing between clenched teeth. “Are you kidding me?” Anger was rose quickly to the surface, pushing aside the sick dread that had been there a moment before, as Dean did what he did best. Protect Sam. “Do you seriously believe that? Do you seriously think he would do that? That he could do that to me?”
John sighed and turned away, one hand passing over his tired eyes. He didn’t know what he believed anymore. “I don’t know, Dean. Maybe. I… All I know is that you would do anything for Sammy. Even… even this. Even if you didn’t want it.”
A strong hand on his elbow pulled him back around, gripping tight enough to hurt. He looked at his son, at the mixture of anger and love in his eyes; love for his brother so strong that he would protect him from anything. Even their father.
“I want this,” Dean said resolutely, no room for argument. He looked John in the eyes, strong and unashamed. “Sam would never do something like that. He would never use me like that. We both want this, Dad. I want this.”
John sighed again and nodded, something inside him shifting to… not acceptance, never that, but a peace about this that hadn’t been there before. “Okay.”
Dean let go of his arm as he pulled away, but the look on his face was clearly confused, still a little angry. “Okay? That’s all you have to say about this? Okay?”
John wanted to drop it, he really did. He never wanted to think about this again. He was perfectly fine with living in denial. But there was more they had to discuss before this was over.
He turned back to Dean, holding up a hand when Dean started to speak. “I won’t accept this, Dean. Not ever. And I sure as hell won’t condone it. This… this thing, it’s wrong. It’s so wrong, Dean. If it were up to me I would send one of you to either end of the country and pray you never saw each other again.” Dean opened his mouth to speak again but John just barreled on, not really wanting to hear what he had to say.
“But I know that will never happen. So this is what we’re going to do. When I’m here, this…” He pointed at Dean then back to the door of the hotel room where Sam waited. “Doesn’t exist. I don’t want to see it; I sure as hell don’t want to hear anything. You talk to him like your brother, you touch him like your brother. Nothing more. And when I’m here you get a room with two beds, and both of them better have been slept in when I come in. Are we clear on all of this?”
Dean’s face was still a mask of confusion. “Dad?”
John sighed and leaned back against the truck, suddenly exhausted. “Dean, I know I can’t change this. And whether I want to admit it or not, the two of you are stronger together. In whatever capacity that may be. So I’m doing the only thing I can. I’m ignoring it. Okay?”
Dean nodded, eyes and hands twitching nervously, as if he expected something horrible to happen any moment. John just nodded toward the hotel door and Dean walked away after a moment’s hesitation. He didn’t look back.
John watched as Sam met him at the door, eyes wide; frightened and worried. Dean smiled shakily and clapped a brotherly hand on his shoulder, turning him around and closing the door behind them.
And as much as he tried not to, John could still see it. That underlying something that had been in Sam’s look, in Dean’s touch. He would always see it now. In every word they spoke to each other, in every insignificant look and innocent brush of hands.
He knew he just had to look the other way and remember that, together, nothing would stand a chance against them.
END
- Meagan
Pairing: John!centric fic, Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2117
Disclaimer: You can sue me for my 20 thousand dollars worth of school debt if you really want to.
Summary: He didn’t understand this change in them. Couldn’t put his finger on what it meant; where it had come from. Until last night.
Denial, Comfort Me
Something had changed in his boys. Something substantial and elusive; shared between them. Something John didn’t understand.
Oh, he saw the symptoms of this change alright; was shocked when he first saw them.
Somewhere between the time he had left his eldest son and now Dean had grown a back bone. In all Dean’s life he had never talked back to John. Not when he was seven and John told him they couldn’t buy the batman toy he wanted so much. Not when he was 15 and he had moved them away from his first girlfriend. Not even when John had said those words, those hateful, terrible words, that had driven Sam away from them for four long years. Don’t come back.
Even then Dean had stayed silent, his good little soldier. Hadn’t protested even though John could see the pain in his son’s eyes.
But now he was standing up to John. Fighting for Sam and for himself. And John didn’t like it, not one bit. Except… he could see the strength in Dean’s eyes when his son finally took what he wanted for the first time in his life; the bravery it took to stand up to the one man who had ever been able to control him. John wasn’t so sure that he didn’t like that.
And Sam… his little Sammy, who John still saw as a puppy-eyed 5 year old, staring up at him from behind a book that was far too mature for a child his age. There was a loyalty in him that had never been there before.
The loyalty that John had always received from Dean without a thought he had had to pull from Sam like poison from a wound. He had drilled into his youngest child the importance of family and loyalty since he was too small to remember, but still Sam had left.
And now he stood beside his brother like John had always wished he would. United with him; protective of him. Backing Dean up and daring anyone to try to hurt him. Together his boys were stronger than any force John had ever seen; more deadly than anything he had ever fought in his long life of hunting. He knew that together they would be safe.
But he didn’t understand this change in them. Couldn’t put his finger on what it meant; where it had come from. Until last night.
He had gone for a drive after his boys were sleeping, to clear his head. It wasn’t the first time he had done it. When they were younger he would leave for hours sometimes after a hunt, needing to be alone, needing to clear his head and get ready for the next one.
He could still remember them, his sweet boys. Remembered coming back to the apartment or motel to see them sleeping soundly, untouched by the nightmares that came from the world around them. Sometimes he would find Sam curled up in Dean’s bed. Nine years old with one hand wrapped around Dean’s shirt, the other clutched tightly around the teddy bear he kept hidden in his duffle-bag until the lights went out.
But last night he hadn’t wanted to risk being gone too long. His boys were older now, far more capable of taking care of themselves than they had been so long ago, but times were changing. The world around them was growing darker and he didn’t want to leave them alone.
He had expected to come back to find them sleeping, like before. To see them quiet and innocent in a way only sleep could bring. Instead… he had seen too much.
He would never forget the looks on their faces. The sick, fear-filled surprise in Dean’s wide eyes. The anguish that made Sam turn away, eyes closing as his hands gripped his brother’s shoulders just a little tighter.
John had run then. Got back in his truck and drove for hours with Dean’s frightened eyes clouding his vision. But he had returned, unable to leave, even with this… this thing filling his mind. Because his boys were still in danger. They still needed to finish this.
When he finally opened the door he expected to see the same guilt and fear he had seen the night before. Expected them to be on opposite sides of the room, Sam quiet and brooding; Dean waiting, his good little soldier.
What he found was the same unified front that he had come up against already.
Sam sat in one of the dirty kitchen chairs, hand curled tightly around Dean’s while his eldest leaned against the table, eyes strong and defiant when John walked in. He didn’t let go of Sam’s hand.
“Dean, I want to talk to you outside,” John said tightly, not looking either of his boys in the eye.
“Anything you want to say to me-”
“Outside, Dean. Now.” And for some reason, he didn’t--couldn’t--understand, John hated that Dean did what he said. Hated the way the bravery slipped away and he was the old Dean again; all blind obedience, no questions asked.
Dean pushed away from the table, hand releasing Sam’s, but Sam didn’t let go. He was standing with his brother, that defiant set to his chin, ready to fight for Dean because Dean wouldn’t. “Dad, you can’t do this. You can’t blame-”
John gave him a look that hadn’t worked on Sam since he was twelve, but he still tried. “Sit down, Sam.” And all that anger that Sam saved just for John came boiling to the surface and John started to wonder if he could actually take Sam on and win. He wasn’t so sure anymore.
But Dean came to the rescue, like always, like he had done a thousand times before Sam left for school. He stepped between them, back turned to John, his free hand moving to Sam’s chest to hold him back.
John couldn’t see their faces or hear their words; wasn‘t even sure they were speaking. But Sam’s fingers tightened around Dean’s palm once more before slipping away, then he sat back down and stared resolutely at the floor while Dean turned back to John.
His son followed faithfully, closing the door behind him and waiting patiently next to the truck while John got his bearings. He felt old all of a sudden. Too many years behind him, too much done and seen to have to be dealing with this. With his boys and what they had done.
John sighed and turned to Dean, not ready--he’d never be ready--but needing to say what he had come to say. He knew what Sam had been going to accuse John of in the room, all anger and fierce protectiveness. ‘You can’t blame Dean for this.’
That wasn’t the problem though. It was the logical choice, sure. Dean was older, he was supposed to be taking care of Sam. He must have been the one to lead his little brother down this path.
But John knew his boys. Maybe not as well as he had thought, but he knew them, knew who they were deep down inside. And he knew, he knew, that Dean would ever hurt his little brother. Especially not for his own desires. Not for anything.
He knew that Dean didn’t start… this. Whatever it was. He would never risk the possibility of this thing hurting Sam.
But John also knew that Dean would never say no to Sammy. All their lives Dean had given Sam everything his heart desired, screw the consequences to himself. If Sam was happy, Dean was happy.
So no, John didn’t blame Dean for this. But he wasn’t so sure about Sam.
“Dean…”
Wide green eyes came up to meet his and John’s heart broke. Those eyes Mary’s eyes held so much strength. A strength John had never really seen before, though he was starting to wonder if it hadn’t always been there.
“Tell me you want this,” John demanded, just enough force behind his words to let Dean know it wasn’t a request.
“Dad…” Dean turned away, his face a war of emotions.
But John had to know. He needed to know this, even if he didn’t really ever want to think about it. Hands on his son’s shoulders, he pulled Dean back, made him look at him. “Dean, I’m serious,” he said, gripping tightly. “Look me in the eye and tell me you want this. That it’s not for Sam. That he…”
Horror washed over Dean’s face and he pulled away from his father, breath hissing between clenched teeth. “Are you kidding me?” Anger was rose quickly to the surface, pushing aside the sick dread that had been there a moment before, as Dean did what he did best. Protect Sam. “Do you seriously believe that? Do you seriously think he would do that? That he could do that to me?”
John sighed and turned away, one hand passing over his tired eyes. He didn’t know what he believed anymore. “I don’t know, Dean. Maybe. I… All I know is that you would do anything for Sammy. Even… even this. Even if you didn’t want it.”
A strong hand on his elbow pulled him back around, gripping tight enough to hurt. He looked at his son, at the mixture of anger and love in his eyes; love for his brother so strong that he would protect him from anything. Even their father.
“I want this,” Dean said resolutely, no room for argument. He looked John in the eyes, strong and unashamed. “Sam would never do something like that. He would never use me like that. We both want this, Dad. I want this.”
John sighed again and nodded, something inside him shifting to… not acceptance, never that, but a peace about this that hadn’t been there before. “Okay.”
Dean let go of his arm as he pulled away, but the look on his face was clearly confused, still a little angry. “Okay? That’s all you have to say about this? Okay?”
John wanted to drop it, he really did. He never wanted to think about this again. He was perfectly fine with living in denial. But there was more they had to discuss before this was over.
He turned back to Dean, holding up a hand when Dean started to speak. “I won’t accept this, Dean. Not ever. And I sure as hell won’t condone it. This… this thing, it’s wrong. It’s so wrong, Dean. If it were up to me I would send one of you to either end of the country and pray you never saw each other again.” Dean opened his mouth to speak again but John just barreled on, not really wanting to hear what he had to say.
“But I know that will never happen. So this is what we’re going to do. When I’m here, this…” He pointed at Dean then back to the door of the hotel room where Sam waited. “Doesn’t exist. I don’t want to see it; I sure as hell don’t want to hear anything. You talk to him like your brother, you touch him like your brother. Nothing more. And when I’m here you get a room with two beds, and both of them better have been slept in when I come in. Are we clear on all of this?”
Dean’s face was still a mask of confusion. “Dad?”
John sighed and leaned back against the truck, suddenly exhausted. “Dean, I know I can’t change this. And whether I want to admit it or not, the two of you are stronger together. In whatever capacity that may be. So I’m doing the only thing I can. I’m ignoring it. Okay?”
Dean nodded, eyes and hands twitching nervously, as if he expected something horrible to happen any moment. John just nodded toward the hotel door and Dean walked away after a moment’s hesitation. He didn’t look back.
John watched as Sam met him at the door, eyes wide; frightened and worried. Dean smiled shakily and clapped a brotherly hand on his shoulder, turning him around and closing the door behind them.
And as much as he tried not to, John could still see it. That underlying something that had been in Sam’s look, in Dean’s touch. He would always see it now. In every word they spoke to each other, in every insignificant look and innocent brush of hands.
He knew he just had to look the other way and remember that, together, nothing would stand a chance against them.
END
- Meagan