SN fic: Patience, Faith, and Forgiveness (2/2)
When they got outside, he breathed a sigh of relief, truly relaxing for the first time since they’d sat down in the sanctuary. Dean was slouched against the car, but he straightened up when he saw them coming, turning his back on them and getting into the car without a word.
“Daddy, is D not talkin’ again?” Aubrey asked, eyeing her oldest brother with a worried expression.
“Damn, Dad, what did you say to him?” Sam asked, gazing accusingly up at his father with an expression that triggered John’s aggression just about every damn time.
“We’re not gonna discuss this. Get in the car.”
“So you’re just gonna ignore the fact that Dean’s clammed up again?” Sam asked dryly, obviously possessing his father’s inability to let things go.
“Now, Samuel!” John barked, and with an angry huff, the fourteen-year-old slid into the car, followed by the twins, who were, luckily, remaining silent.
Of course, that couldn’t last either.
“D? You okay?” Aubrey asked, and John winced as Dean stared unblinkingly out the window, ignoring his sister’s question. “Daddy, is D sick again?”
“No,” Sam answered before John could. “He’s not talkin’ ‘cause Dad said something to him.”
“Daddy, did you say something mean to him?” Aubrey asked him, and John had a sudden flashback to Mary, her hands on her hips as she scolded him for some infraction. Not wanting to be assaulted by painful memories, John quickly took control of the situation and redirected. After all, he was an expert at redirection and outright avoidance.
“We’re not gonna talk about this. It’s between Dean and myself, understood?”
Aubrey was silent for a long moment, obviously mulling over whether she wanted to accede the point, and John was hard-pressed to hold back a weary sigh.
“Aubrey,” he prompted, and with a long-suffering sigh, she crossed her arms and stared grumpily back at him in the rearview mirror.
“Fine,” she grumbled.
“Samuel, that means you, too.”
“Whatever.”
He could’ve made an issue out of the less-than-respectful answers, but honestly he just wanted some peace and quiet.
“We’re gonna sit down and talk about what happened today, boys. Just not now.”
“Why not now?” Braden asked, speaking for the first time since John had taken his pen away.
“Shut-up, Braden!” Sam hissed, elbowing Braden in the side as he cut vicious eyes at the younger boy.
“Ow!”
“Daddy, Sam hit Bray!”
“I did not!” Sam retorted hotly.
“Yes, you did!” Aubrey yelled back.
“No, I didn’t! I elbowed him-there’s a difference, stupid!”
“I’m not stupid! Take it back, Sam!”
“Enough!” John barked, never one to tolerate much in the way of backseat squabbling. “Not another word. Sam, you hit or elbow your brother again, and you and I are gonna have a problem, understand?”
“Yessir,” Sam muttered, and John could almost hear the unspoken bitching underlying the one-word response.
The returned to the motel room John had rented in silence, but it didn’t take an empath to pick up on the uncomfortable tension that had settled in the car. For John, it simply confirmed what he’d come to realize a long time ago: Dean pretty much determined the overall mood of the entire family. If Dean wasn’t happy, no one was happy.
And Dean definitely isn’t happy. Or in a particularly forgiving mood.
The silent teenager disappeared into one of the bedrooms, the gentle shutting of the door behind him saying more about his mood than anything.
Shit.
Dean wasn’t mad. He was hurt.
Because if he was mad, that door would’ve been slammed, and something would’ve been thrown against it by now.
John dropped onto the ratty sofa, trying to figure out how the hell he was going to fix things. Sam and the twins went to change clothes, and John figured they’d stay out of sight, not wanting to prompt the ‘discussion’ that John had mentioned.
So it was pretty surprising when the weight distribution on the couch shifted as Aubrey jumped onto it with a flying leap, followed by Braden and Sam at a more sedate pace, the latter perching on the arm of the couch rather than having a seat.
“Daddy,” Braden began quietly, his blue eyes gazing up at John gravely, “we’re sorry about church today. We should’ve been better.”
“I was good,” Aubrey piped up, scooting closer to John so that she could wrap her arms around one of his. “Wasn’t I good, Daddy?”
“Yeah, baby,” John told her, trying to rustle up a smile for her.
Relatively speaking.
“Brown-noser,” Sam mumbled, and Aubrey looked back at him with a frown, even as John scowled at the fourteen-year-old who was beginning to get as proficient with insults as his older brother.
“I don’t know what that means, but it doesn’t sound nice. Daddy-”
“He’s calling you a suck-up, Aubby,” Braden explained, casting a mean look at Sam on his sister’s behalf.
“Oh…” she said, biting her lip as she considered that. “Shut-up, Sam,” she retorted finally, and John couldn’t help but smile at her complete inability to fire back anything more creative than that.
“So are you still mad at us, Daddy?” Braden asked, steering the conversation back on subject.
“I’m not mad, son. I’m a bit disappointed, though.”
“We’ll do better next time. I won’t draw on the bulletin no more, and Aubby won’t be so loud. And Sam’ll be quiet and not mess with me no more.”
“You the family spokesman now?” John asked, amused by his youngest son in spite of himself.
“If you want,” Braden told him sincerely, and John smirked.
“We’ll hash out suitable punishments for your behavior later, boys,” he said finally, too drained to deal with it at the moment. “In the meantime, the TV stays off for the rest of the day.”
“Can I still watch it?” Aubrey asked.
“Let’s just leave it off for now,” John told her, rubbing at his now aching temple.
“What about Dean?” Sam asked, his eyes narrowed on John speculatively. “Is he on TV restriction, too?”
“Yeah. But I doubt he’ll come out of the bedroom any time soon, so it’s probably irrelevant.”
“Did you hurt his feelings, Daddy?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“You should tell him you’re sorry.”
“I did. But Dean holds on to things, has a hard time lettin’ ‘em go.”
“Wonder where he got that from,” Sam snorted.
“I’ll go talk to him,” Aubrey announced before John could respond to Sam’s snark, the little girl resolutely climbing to her feet and heading for the bedroom.
“Uh, Dad,” Sam began hesitantly as they watched Aubrey barge into the bedroom without knocking.
“Yeah,” John replied, already on it before Sam could finish the thought.
They both knew how easily Aubrey could push Dean’s buttons when the mood struck her. And it seemed to strike her with growing frequency these days. John liked to think of it as sort of a, ‘the more I feel like part of the family, the more comfortable I am pissing you off’ deal.
Not that Dean didn’t give us good as he got, but all the same, John didn’t really feel like dealing with it after the fiasco at church. Needless to say, he didn’t waste any time standing up to follow her, stopping beside the bedroom door to monitor the conversation.
“D, did Daddy hurt your feelings?” John heard her ask him bluntly. He could hear the bed creak as she sat down, no doubt sitting as close to her older brother as she possibly could.
Probably because she knows good and well that it unnerves the hell out of him. She’s got something of a mean streak in her, that one. Course, she comes by it honestly…
“I’m not a fuckin’ girl, Aubrey,” Dean retorted, neatly sidestepping the question.
Dammit, Dean-I’ve told you about using that kind of language in front of her.
“Well then what’s the matter?” she asked, obviously not buying it, but willing to play along it seemed. “You mad ‘cause Daddy made you go to church?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s a waste of time, and it’s stupid.”
And there’s the redirect-make her think you’re angry and she won’t believe you’re just hurt.
“How come you don’t like it?” Aubrey was asking.
“Because I don’t see a point in sitting around worshipping a god that doesn’t care about us,” Dean told her hotly, and John winced.
“But He does care about us,” Aubrey argued.
“God doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me! Because if he did, then he wouldn’t have let that demon kill my mom.”
“But D…God did care-He looked after you, ‘cause you didn’t die in that fire that killed your mama.”
“But He didn’t look after Mom, Aubrey! She was a good person, and she didn’t deserve to die like that. I don’t want any part in believing in a god that lets something like that happen to someone like my mom.”
“But that’s what it’s all about, D-Mama said that faith is about believin’, even when things are bad.”
“I don’t care!” he snapped at her. “Besides, what has faith ever done for you?! It sure as hell didn’t help your mom any more than it did mine.”
“Yes it did,” she told him softly. “God sent you and Daddy and Sam to come and get us. Mama always prayed, and she prayed that God would keep us safe. She didn’t ask God to keep her safe-if she had, I bet God would’ve saved her.”
Shit, this is about to get ugly.
Because John knew, even if Aubrey didn’t, that Dean was a step away from attacking her faith head-on, and for an eight-year-old that had lost her mother only a short time ago, the emotional damage could be devastating and irreparable.
“Wake up, Aubrey,” Dean began, his voice tight with barely repressed rage. “God doesn’t give a-”
“Aubrey,” John said, stepping into the room and cutting Dean off before he could finish. “Why don’t you go see what your brothers are doing? I need to talk with Dean for a bit.”
“There’s nothin’ to talk about,” Dean said belligerently after Aubrey had shut the door behind her on her way out.
“How about the fact that you were about to tell an eight-year-old that God doesn’t care about her?” John asked pointedly.
“Why should I lie to her?” Dean threw back heatedly. “Better she find out now than later.”
“I know it’s hard for you to understand, Dean, but your sister needs to believe that God looks after us.”
“But it’s bullshit, Dad, you know it is!”
“Is it?”
“What, so you’re saying you buy into all that shit now?” Dean asked incredulously.
“I’m saying I don’t know. I’ve seen a lot of evil in this world, and not a hell of a lot of good. But I can’t rule it out entirely, either. What I do know is this: if it helps your sister to believe that God keeps us safe, then we’re not gonna do anything to jeopardize that. You let her believe, Dean. You understand what I’m tellin’ you?”
Dean gave him a tight nod, his jaw tightly clenched as he fought to hold back what was no doubt a heated retort.
“Dean? Did you hear what I said?” John asked, knowing his son well enough to know that anything other than a verbal acknowledgment was a loophole, plain and simple.
“Yessir.”
John would have let it go there, but the way Dean’s anger seemed to be building rather than diminishing was cause for concern. So when Dean got up to leave, John held up a hand.
“Sit back down. We’re not done here.”
“Fuck,” Dean murmured, and John cast a dark look at him.
“You wanna try that again?”
Dean huffed angrily and dropped back down on the bed.
“That’s what I thought. Now you wanna tell me what’s got you so amped up?”
“No sir.”
“Well I think you need to-you’re building up a good head of steam, and I don’t want to lose our safety deposit on this place ‘cause you broke somethin’.”
“I just don’t wanna talk about God and all this religious bullshit anymore,” Dean said angrily, his temper finally starting to fray.
“Is that really how you feel about all of it?”
“About God? Yeah,” Dean told him, his voice dripping with disdain.
“Dean…I hope I’ve never given you the impression that I’m not okay with you believing in God if that’s what you want.”
“What the hell, Dad? I just told you I don’t believe any of it!” Dean barked.
“I know. But your mother did, and for a long time, I did, too. I don’t put much stock in it now, but…well we raised you to believe for the first four years of your life, so if you do still believe, it’s okay.”
“Well, I don’t!” Dean yelled, his temper finally snapping, just as John had thought it would. “I don’t because it’s a bunch of crap! God is supposed to be all loving and shit, but he let Mom die! She believed in Him, and what the hell did it get her?! Nothing! She said it every night, Dad! She said angels were watching over us! But they weren’t! So no, Dad, I don’t believe, and it’s not fucking okay! ‘Cause if I believe, it means that there was some divine fucking reason that Mom died, some reason He let her die, that she wasn’t good enough somehow, and I can’t believe that! I won’t!”
“Dean.”
That was all he was able to say, his own throat tight as his son’s pain came roaring out, as he realized that today must have been hell for his oldest. Not only was Dean confronted with a God he had no faith in, a God he couldn’t forgive, he was also forced to remember a better time, when he’d gone to church with both of his parents. When he’d been happy.
Shit.
Dean was silent, his body rigid with tension as he fought to regain his composure, to resume the mask of carefree detachment that he normally assumed. Taking a risk, John reached out and laid a hand on the nape of Dean’s neck, letting the simple touch be the comfort that he couldn’t really verbalize.
How do you fix something like this when a part of you thinks that, too? When a part of you hurts the same damn way?
A silent tear slid slowly down Dean’s face, and John could just feel the tautness of his body, how he was straining to hold back any further tears.
“Don’t make me go back,” Dean choked out, his voice emerging in a choked whisper. “Please. ‘m sorry about today, just please don’t make me go back,” Dean begged, his voice finally breaking with the force of his emotions, and the pain in his plea made John’s heart ache in reply.
“’s alright, son, easy,” John murmured, pulling Dean to him in a one-armed hug, Dean’s body jerking with suppressed sobs. “You don’t have to go back, it’s okay.”
The door cracked open silently, and John looked up to see Aubrey peeking back in with a sad, worried expression. Wordlessly, she came back inside and walked over on silent feet, climbing into John’s lap and laying her head on his shoulder as she watched Dean sadly. Finally, she shifted until she could lean against Dean, wrapping her arms around one of his.
“’m sorry we made you go to church, D. I didn’t know it’d make you sad.”
Embarrassed, Dean pulled away and swiped angrily at whatever tears had managed to leak out.
“I’m not sad,” Dean denied vehemently. “I’m pissed off, and I don’t wanna talk about God anymore!”
“It’s okay, D,” Aubrey said knowingly, her blue eyes staring back at Dean with startling clarity. “You don’t gotta talk about God no more. And it’s okay that you don’t got no faith-I got enough for both o’ us. I’ll share. God understands.”
“I don’t care if He understands,” Dean retorted caustically.
“That’s okay. God still loves you anyway. And even though your mama died, I know He still looks after you. I bet he looks after your mama in Heaven, too.”
“I’m done,” Dean said coldly, his face now void of any emotion. He stormed out, and this time, John let him go, knowing that some hurts just couldn’t be healed.
“Daddy? Does Dean really not have any faith anymore?”
“If he does, it’s buried so deep he doesn’t even know it’s there anymore.”
“And it’s ‘cause his mama died?”
“Yeah. Remember how I told you that Dean was really small when it happened?”
“Uh huh.”
“Well…he was too young to understand it the way you do. He’s never forgiven God for what happened to Mary.”
Neither have I.
“But it wasn’t God’s fault,” she protested, staring up at him with an innocence that somehow remained despite all of the shit that had happened to her and their family.
“Maybe, maybe not. But none of that matters to Dean, Aubrey-his faith was hurt too much when he was too young to deal with it, and I wasn’t in a place to help him recover it.”
“Because you were sad and mad, too?”
“Yeah.”
Hell, I still am.
“Oh.”
She was silent for a few moments, and John could almost hear her thinking about it before she finally looked back up at him sympathetically.
“Don’t worry, Daddy. It’ll come back one day.”
“What?”
“Dean’s faith-it’ll come back,” she told him emphatically. “You’ll see.”
“How do you know?”
“I dunno. I just do,” she said with a shrug, and with that, she slid off his lap and headed for the door.
“Where’re you going?”
“To see if Bray and Sam’ll play Barbies with me, you know, since they can’t watch TV,” she told him, speaking over her shoulder as she strolled out. He stared after her, wishing he could have that kind of surety, even as he knew just as well that it wasn’t that easy.
But then again, I guess that’s what faith is all about.
Back to Part 1.