Hold On Until Dawn Chapter 19C/19 COMPLETE
Title: Hold On Until Dawn Chapter 19C/19
John stepped out of his room, headed for the kitchen to help Ellen with breakfast, at the same time as his sons. Sam’s eyes went to the floor upon seeing him and John could sense the tension rolling off the boy in waves. Clearing his throat, he squared his shoulders. “Dean, you mind giving me and Sam a minute?”
Dean’s eyes volleyed between his father and his brother, lingering until Sam gave him a barely perceptible nod. “Yeah, uh. I was going to go and start the Impala anyway. Haven’t moved her in a few days and it’ll be good for the engine to run for a little bit.” He leveled Sam with a serious look. “Yell if you need anything.” Squeezing Sam’s hand once, he gave his father a hard, warning glare and walked down the hall.
“He’s been a tad overprotective since, you know,” Sam shrugged, scratching his arm.
“I don’t blame him. Can we go inside and sit down?” John motioned toward Sam and Dean’s bedroom.
Sam nodded and went inside, sitting on the unmade twin bed, leaving the still dressed one for his father. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked, staring at his clasped hands in his lap.
“God, Sam, I don’t even know where to begin,” John sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I take that back, I do know. I’m sorry, Sammy. I am so sorry.”
Sam’s head snapped up, “What for?”
“Everything? For your life, how I raised you, yanking you around like an accessory instead of my son, putting the hunt before you and your brother, for taking you to Pike Creek, introducing you to that bastard,” his voice thickened with emotion, “for not believing you about the lies, for letting him hurt you, all the fighting, the things I said, making you leave. Take your pick. I’m sorry for all of it.” He blinked rapidly trying to staunch the tears before they fell.
“Dad, you did the best you could with us growing up and you didn’t know any of the shit about…him.” Sam’s face was pale and drawn, the stress of the last few weeks depleting any reserves he had, and a tear fell from John’s eye at the sight.
“You tried to, Sam, and I wouldn’t hear any of it. I was too wrapped up in finding the thing that killed your mother, I lost focus on what was important.” John raked his hands through his hair and stared at his worn work boots, “What kind of father doesn’t believe his child?”
Sam didn’t speak, the question was rhetorical and he couldn’t come up with something to say to contradict his father’s statements. The minutes ticked by slowly without more from John and Sam finally broke the silence. “Why,” he cleared the lump in his throat, “why didn’t you believe me?”
John looked at his son with sad eyes. “I guess it started with the shit about the basketball team - lying to us about it and keeping secrets. When Nathan was right about that, it was easy to believe he was right about more. When you accused him it just seemed like you were trying to throw suspicion off of you onto someone else. Hell, I taught you that when dealing with hunts so it wasn’t a stretch to think you’d use it in other parts of your life.”
“Didn’t hurt that he was your friend, someone you trusted, and that we weren’t on the best of terms at the time,” Sam offered.
John stifled a sob at the reminder that he had trusted Nathan and not his own son. “That too. We were fighting all the time, you challenging me and me trying to force my will on you. You were so different from Dean. I mean you were always the more sensitive one, but you also had this strong will that I didn’t know how to handle.” He took a deep breath. “You know, my dad left when I was young and I don’t remember much about him,” he held up his hand when Sam opened his mouth to interject. “I’m not using that as any kind of excuse. It’s just, from what I do remember? You’ve always reminded me of him. He was smart and sensitive and determined, like you. Maybe one of reasons I was so hard on you was because you were so like him. I don’t know.” John’s stomach churned at the admission. “Did I ever tell you, you were named after him?” At Sam’s head shake, he nodded. “You are named after both your grandfathers. Samuel was your Grandpa Campbell’s first name - hard son of a bitch, hated my guts - and David was my dad’s middle name. I didn’t want it, but your mother thought it was only right to honor both sides.”
“Dad,” Sam tried consolingly, mind wondering briefly who Dean was named after. A great uncle? A cousin? Great grandfather?
“No, Sam. None of that matters,” he waved his hand, dismissing Sam’s concern. “What matters is I let that monster hurt you. I didn’t protect you. I know you called for us. I’ve heard you cry out when you’re having a nightmare. I’m so sorry, Sammy. We should have been there, I should have been there. I will never forgive myself for not being there.” Tears fell over stubbled cheeks as John leaned forward, elbows on his knees and face buried in his hands.
Sam got up and crossed to the other bed, kneeling on the floor at his father’s feet. “I forgave you.”
“W-what?” John looked at his son incredulously.
“I forgave you,” Sam repeated, softly, “a long time ago. Yes, I went to Stanford because I was angry and hurt, but I met Jess there and she helped me work through what happened last time. She supported me and gave me time to deal with everything.”
“Your girl, right?”
“My friend,” Sam gently corrected. “And now I have Dean. He’s gonna get me through this time. We all have to quit blaming ourselves for everything. It’s like our legacy, and it’s got to stop. You were not responsible for what he did to me. There’s nothing to say that even if you’d believed me, he wouldn’t have found another way to get to me.”
John nodded, not really believing yet but hoping he might in the future. He looked up at Sam and saw the unsure look on his son’s face. “What is it?”
Sam hesitated, biting his bottom lip. “Do you know what Cas did to him? Did he kill him?”
John didn’t miss that Sam hadn’t used Nathan’s name at all during their conversation and when John used it Sam would shudder. His lips pressed into a hard line and stared at the empty space beneath the other bed, remembering his, Dean and Castiel’s agreement that Sam should never know Schneider’s fate. “I’m sure whatever the angel decided, it was less than he deserved. There is no punishment harsh enough for hurting my boys.” He reached down and pulled Sam into the first hug he could remember giving him since Sam was a young child, eliciting a surprised noise from his youngest.
John closed his eyes and held on tight. Slowly opening them, something under the bed caught his eye. Recognizing the shape, he tensed around Sam.
Sam felt the change and leaned back, following his father’s line of sight to the bottle of lube under the other bed. He quickly got up and shoved the telling item into the nightstand drawer. Running his hand through his hair, he sighed. “I know you don’t like our relationship, but we need each other. I heard you last night. You think Dean took advantage of me, but I swear, Dad, he didn’t. I love him and he loves me. More importantly, I trust him. Before Dean, Schneider was the only one that I,” he gestured vaguely toward the drawer.
“Oh,” John felt his face flush and gave himself a moment to regain his composure. Slowly, he stood and grasped Sam’s shoulder. “Sam, listen. You’re my son and I love you. I’m just going to need a little time to get used to this whole…” It was John’s turn to gesture, waving his hand over the disheveled bed.
Sam nodded, “We’ll give you all the time you need. Just tell us when you’re ready.”
*****
Sam sat back on the bed as John left to go help Ellen, muttering about how she would burn his bacon if he didn’t show up soon. He flomped back on the mattress, weary from too little sleep the night before and the already emotionally exhausting morning. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he blew out a hard breath. Might as well get it all over with at once.
He sat up and ran his hands over his thighs. “Cas? Can you hear me? I need to talk to you.”
“Sam,” Castiel appeared by the door, “you wished to talk to me?”
“Yeah,” Sam stood to face the angel, “I wanted to thank you for, you know, helping me and for not letting Dean kill him.”
“There is no gratitude necessary, Sam. You merit nothing less.”
“Still,” Sam said uncomfortably, “I, uh, wanted to say thanks.” He held out his hand.
Castiel glanced down at the outstretched hand then back up at Sam. In two steps, he wrapped Sam in his second unexpected hug of the day. “It’s what human friends do.”
Dean opened the door and stopped in shock. “Did we all fall into Bizarro World or something?”
Castiel relinquished his hold on Sam, who stood there still dazed by the act, and cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me.” He smoothed the lapels of his trenchcoat and disappeared.
“Dude?!” Dean held his hands out. “What the hell? Did you just get groped by the virtuous virgin?”
“No clue. I was thanking him and the next thing I know he’s hugging me.”
Dean shook his head, bemusedly. “I repeat, what the hell? You’re in here getting touched by an angel and I passed dad in the hall and he frigging hugged me.”
“Dad hugged you?”
“Yeah, hugged me and told me he loved me and that he needed some time.”
Sam smiled, “Me, too. Maybe retirement is softening him.” He moved forward to hug Dean just to wipe away the confused look off his face.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Dean wagged a finger at him. “You don’t touch until you wash bird boy off of you. Probably got feathers in your hair or something. Smell like a cloud.”
Sam laughed, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck and pulling him in for a hug despite his protests.
“Oh crap,” Dean huffed, fighting the smile that Sam’s laugh threatened to bring out, “this hug stuff is contagious, isn’t it?” He tucked his head into the crook of Sam’s neck, inhaling his scent and hiding his smile against the warm skin, as his arms came around his brother’s chest. “Gonna have to look up antidotes.”
*****
John stumbled into the kitchen, staggering under the weight of so many emotions in such a small amount of time after suppressing any sort of feeling for so long. He grunted a reply at Ellen’s cheery greeting and moved with single-minded focus toward the coffee maker. As he poured a cup, two packages of bacon landed on the counter near his hand.
“Do both packs, since Dean could eat a pound by himself,” Ellen considered him carefully. “Rough night?”
“You can say that again.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No,” John answered sharply, “Think I’ve been flayed alive enough for one day, thank you. Don’t need you to take up the knife.”
Ellen nodded, tugging a carton of eggs closer to the mixing bowl in front of her. “Part of this have anything to do with Dean and Sam being DeanandSam?” She asked innocently, plucking two eggs from the Styrofoam container and cracking them on the side of the bowl.
“What?” John spun around, sloshing coffee over the side of his cup and burning his hand. “Shit!”
“Here,” Ellen came over and guided his hand under the faucet, running cool water over the reddened skin. “So, Dean and Sam?”
“Part of it,” he grudgingly answered. “How did you know?”
“How did you not?” She kept her eyes trained on John’s hand, tenderly rubbing the area around the burn. “I’ve suspected for a while. Always thought it was a matter of time,” she shut off the water and grabbed the dishtowel. “They’ve only had each other through the years. No one will ever understand their lives, will ever love them more than each other. You may have a hard time with it, but it’s not your place to judge, and I for one am glad that Sam has somebody like Dean to help him through everything that happened.” She wrapped the towel around his hand. “You can’t condemn love, John, not in this life. Too few of us are lucky enough to have it.”
John started to say something but was interrupted by Jo and Ash coming in the door. “Morning, Momma. Need help?”
Ellen stepped back from John, smiling at her daughter. “Nope. If John will stop crying over a little scald and get on that bacon we should be good to go in a few minutes.” She winked at John and went back to her bowl to stir the pancake batter.
Snorting, John grabbed a knife from the block and sliced open the plastic casing on the bacon.
*****
Ellen set a tray piled high with pancakes on the table where everyone was gathered and turned to grab the plate of bacon, frowning at the undercooked pieces. Why she asked John to cook it she never knew. He always took it out of the grease too early. Sighing, she sat down and set a few slices of the meat on her plate, passing the tray to Dean.
“Leave some for the rest of us,” Jo scolded when Dean snatched a large helping.
“Don’t you have your own house?” Dean snarked, folding a whole piece in his mouth.
“God, you’re disgusting,” Jo threw a biscuit at him that he deftly snagged out of the air.
“You wuff me,” Dean mumbled around his mouthful then checking that Ellen wasn’t looking, opened his mouth to show the chewed food.
“Like a stomach virus.”
“Enough!” John slammed his hand on the table, his sons snapping to attention at the command. “You two are worse than a bunch of kids.”
Sam rolled his eyes and nodded his thanks to Ash when he passed the plate of bacon, lips twitching as he tried to beat back a smile. This was what he’d always wanted. Family, banter, safety, home.
“So what will you two do now? You got another case lined up?” Ellen asked, watching as Sam eyed the limp strips ruefully.
“No,” Dean stabbed a couple of the fluffy flapjacks from the top of the stack, “we were supposed to be on vacation before Cas found us about that last…” he paused, “case. I think we’re going to go ahead and take the downtime.” They’d talked about this this morning before coming back downstairs, finishing the conversation from the night before. “Go back to Pike Creek and get our things from the apartment. Sam wants to visit Mason’s grave and Mrs. Blackman. Then we were thinking of heading to California. Do some things there that should have been done a long time ago.”
The trip to Palo Alto was Dean’s idea. He’d attended Jessica’s funeral for Sam’s sake with the detached involvement of someone who didn’t know the deceased. Now that he understood the role that Jessica had played in Sam’s life, he needed to go and truly pay his respects. He needed to thank the young woman for being there for his brother when Dean wasn’t. He owed her that much; he owed her everything. “After that, I think we’ll settle down somewhere for a little while. Sam,” he stopped and looked over at his brother to see if it was okay to continue. Sam nodded, smiling reassuringly. “Sam thinks,” he cleared his throat, “we think that Sam should talk to someone about what happened…before and now.”
“You’re going to quit hunting?” Jo leaned forward in her seat. It was no secret that she’d wanted to hunt and she couldn’t understand why the boys would give it up.
“Not permanently,” Sam answered quickly, chewing the partially cooked bacon, hoping to hide his grimace, “Just want a breather.”
“You thought about where you might settle?” Ash asked, gaze unfocused like he’d strapped on one too many the night before.
Dean and Sam traded glances. Before Pike Creek, they’d been heading to the Roadhouse to spend more time with their father, but now they weren’t sure if they’d be welcome. John’s reaction to them hadn’t been the most encouraging and Dean wasn’t sure if the conversation he’d had with his father hadn’t done more harm than good. At least before that, John could still be delusional and think that it was a passing phase.
“Hadn’t decided yet.” Here, Sioux Falls, Blue Earth. Dean mentally ticked off places he knew they’d be safe.
John cleared his throat, eyes concentrating on the syrup cascading over the side of this pancakes. He looked over at Ellen and his heart warmed at her smile. “We’ll need to get you a bigger bed, but when you’re ready, come home. Your room will be waiting.”
A/N: As you all know this story was started by the insanely talented Insertcode11. When she was unable to finish it offered to complete it. I hope that you have enjoyed it and that it has lived up to her original plan. I was honored to work on this fic.
BONUS because Imogen loves me....Nathan post Heaven's wrath!!!!
