Bad Medicine
Title: Bad Medicine
Author:marlowe78
Rating: PG
Characters: Dean, John, Pastor Jim, Sam (mentioned)
Word count:
Spoilers: none, pre-series.
Warnings: Language? Dubious medical practice... Angst.
Summary: Dad is pissed. So pissed, and with good reasons. So Dean decided it's better to hide.
A/N: This story is a present for action-freak, who wanted "something where little Dean (6 to 10 years) is feeling guilty, but everything is up to you." I hope you'll like it, and thanks so much for encouraging me to write a new story *hugs*
Beta, again, by soncnica.
“DEAN!“
Dad's calling. He sounds real mad, and he is, he still is and Dean's not coming out, no, definitely not, no no no. He's not crazy, even though Dad thinks he is, but he's not, nope, not. He's not coming out, not right now, he's gotta, sometime, but not right now. He's really good here, all hidden and safe and Dad's way too big to get in here and drag him out. Dean knows he messed up, so bad, so so bad, and he's gotta be punished but not right now, maybe later, or maybe he can hide here forever?
“Dean, get here, right now. Dean!”
Dad sounds off, his voice is pitched so weird, but that's a trick, probably, he's trying to get him to come out even though Dad wouldn't do that, not such a sneaky thing, but he's really pissed and so maybe, he kinda would.
And Dean's not stupid, no, he isn't! No matter what they say, he isn't stupid, but... but maybe he is?
”What were you thinking? Dean! What the fuck were you thinking?”
Nothing, he didn't think, hadn't thought, and so maybe he is kinda stupid? 'cause if he'da thought, it wouldn't have happened and so maybe Dean is dumb, and being dumb is gotta be better than being a murderer, and he isn't! No, no, he wasn't gonna kill him! It was... not an accident, but he didn't do it on purpose!
”He could've died, Dean! What the fuck were you thinking, you could've killed him, or did you want that? Is that it? Did you want to kill him?”
Never! He would never kill him, never! It wasn't like that, it wasn't, and even though Sammy's annoying and stupid and messy and always eats Dean's stuff or takes his stuff, he wouldn't kill him, no, never! It wasn't like that, and Dad should know that, he shouldn't 've asked that, 'cuz Dean'd never do this, not even think 'bout it.
Dad should've known that, he knows that! But he did, so maybe he didn't? Maybe Dean didn't show it enough that he wouldn't hurt Sammy, if Dad thinks he might? And he didn't tell him that he was wrong, just stood there and cried and Dad'd been so pissed and had shaken him and it kinda hurt him but that's not why he cried.
”Tell me, Dean, tell me what the hell you were thinking! What. Where. You. Thinking!”
Stupid tears, stupid, stupid tears. He balls his fists and bites on them so he doesn't hiccup in his hideaway 'cuz he's not coming out and not betray where he's at to Dad. Dad's so pissed, and he might find him, 'cuz he's got super-sharp ears and …
Maybe he is stupid. He shoulda known, shoulda known not to give Sam the stuff, 'cuz Dad told him, told him a lot that it's not for kids, that it's for grownups and not for little kids, but he didn't think and that's right, he is stupid, has to be because he didn't think.
**
Dean listens real hard and when he hears Dad call from the other part of the garden, he carefully sniffs all the snot up into his nose because it's really yucky to have it drip into his shirt. He's not a little kid, he shouldn't be crying, but he can't stop, he can't, even though he wants to. Maybe he killed Sam. Maybe Sam's dead, gone, like Mo-Mom, an-and he did that, he killed Sammy? No, no, he was asleep, just sleeping, Pastor Jim'd said he was ”sleeping it off, John” and he'd said ”John, it's not his fault.” but he's wrong, it is his fault, he did it, he gave Sam to drink, Sammy didn't crawl up on the counter himself and drink it. So it's his fault, and Dad said so, Dad knows it's Dean's fault, he said so!
”Like Hell it's not, Jim! He gave him a full glass of Tequila, how do you figure it's not his fault!”
And Dean'd sobbed, and they'd spotted him, and Dad had grabbed him and shoved him into the kitchen, and Dean wanted to ask if Sammy's alright but Dad hadn't let him really explain, and the tears had stopped him from talking, stupid, stupid, fucking tears! He'd stood there like a crybaby, too dumb to talk.
”Tell me, Dean, what the fuck where you thinking! What did you think, the hell, why did you give Sam alcohol, why would you do something stupid like that, huh?”
And Dean had told, did, his breath was all funny and hitchy and the sobs had spoiled his voice and Dad had gotten even madder when he said.
”Are you serious? You gave him Tequila so he would sleep? What... what the... I can't even...” and Dad'd paced and looked at him with so much anger and something else, like he couldn't believe what Dean said, and he musta told it wrong cuz it wasn't because Sammy wasn't sleeping, it wasn't! Sammy was crying, and he was sick, and nobody was there and Dean wanted to make him better! That's all, and Dad always says it makes you better when you sleep, and Dad always said the stuff in the cupboard makes him sleepy, says it's like med'cine and he drinks it so he can sleep!
And Dean forgot that it was only for grownups, but he gave Sammy only a little, just half a glass, cuz Sammy's small and Dad's much bigger but then Sam wasn't waking up again and he got real scared and he tried to shake him awake and then, just then his dad and Pastor Jim came back and he told that Sammy wasn't waking and... and all got really bad then.
”Don't stand there and cry like a baby, I raised you better than this! Don't just stand there all silent and not saying anything!”
And that was unfair! So unfair! He wanted to tell, he did, but the stupid tears wouldn't stop and Dad wouldn't listen, not really, and Dad just shoved him at the shoulder and told him to ”get outta my eyes!” and he'd left, he left him, just there, in the kitchen, and that's when he ran, and hid, and now he's not coming out cuz Dad said ”And this talk ain't over, don't you think I'm done with ya, son!” and he believes him and he's not coming, nope, not, no no no.
They can't send him away if he's not there to do it, can they? He's gotta come out if Dad wants to send him away and if he's not gonna come out, he can't get told to go away.
**
“Dean!”
Dean curls up even tighter, tries to not breath so loud and he bites his lip so his breathing's not hitching and the stupid sobbing stops. He tastes blood, like when he fell from the swings in school and bit his tongue and it hurts a little but that's ok, he can deal with a little hurt.
As long's Sammy's really just sleeping, he's okay if he hurts a little, and Sam has to just sleep. Sam's gotta sleep, oh please, please, let Sam just sleep, please! The stupid tears sting in his eyes and in his nose but Dad's so close,too close, he can't let them come, can't cry so loud, like before.
“John!” Pastor Jim, he's calling Dad, and no, no, please, let it not be about Sammy! Pleasepleasepleaseplease, Sam's gotta be okay, he's gotta, he's gotta! “John, c'mon,...” The rest is swallowed by the night, pitch-black darkness out here, where Minnesota is all ruraly and no big city close by. He hears the heavy boots of Dad crunch away and he lets out the breath he held without realizing. Pastor Jim didn't sound too worried, so probably Sam'll be okay. Good, if Sam's okay, maybe Dad will not be so mad anymore? Not so disappointed cuz he wasn't acting responsible?
”If I can't count on you pulling your weight, if I have to worry all day what stupid shit you'll be up to, I can't go out, hunting. And you know what happens if I'm not out there? Do you? No, no, I don't think you do, Dean. I really don't, so I'll tell you. If I'm not out there, hunting evil, someone might die. Some kid may die, or an adult, and then there would be a little kid out there without his parents, and do you want that? Do you not care about people losing their kids, or their moms and dads?”
Dean had shook his head and Dad had looked at him, still angry. ”Good!” he'd said and the stupid tears had kept on running and they wouldn't stop.
A sudden noise tears through the night, one he knows like... well, better'n anything. Car door. Door from a Chevy Impala, 1967. It's their car, and that's the motor of their car, and no, no, nononononono, that can't be right! But he hears the rumble, can hear it, nearly feel it in his bones and no, no, Dad wouldn't just leave him here, wouldn't just leave him outside and go, drive away, he wouldn't!
With a cry, he's out of his hiding-place, nearly falls from the tree where Sam and he had found the awesome tree-cave up in 'tween the big branches, and he's off, running even though his feet sting from the drop, all the way up into his teeth.
“Dad!” he's yelling, “stop, please, please, please, stop, please, don't go, no, please, Daddy, Dad, DAD!”
He can see the backlights, jerking on the uneven dirt-road, and it's true, Dad's leaving, he's leaving, not even caring that he's right behind him, and Dean tears after them, not listening to the call of “DEAN!” from behind, from Pastor Jim, just stumbling in the dark over stones and some clumps of grass, but even though the car's not fast, not really driving real fast, he's too slow, can't catch up and his breath is funny and the snot's not letting him run as fast as he can. His foot twists over something and he hits the ground, pain shooting up in his leg and he cries out and that's it, that's it, he won't ever catch Dad and Sammy, won't ever get them now and he curls up on the cold dirt and starts to shake, from the cold, it must be from the cold because his tears must've run out by now, all dried up and gone. He shakes and sobs and when he hears footsteps running closer, he wants to die. He wants to die, begs to die because it must be Pastor Jim, coming to tell him that he's gotta have to stay with him now, that Dad's gone and he's gotta stay with Jim where he couldn't kill anymore little brothers.
“Dean!” he hears and then he gets grabbed and hugged and that's not Pastor Jim. Jim's nice, and he likes to cuddle, but this isn't Pastor Jim, he smells all wrong, and he's more hard than Jim, bigger. He smells like Dad, and he feels like Dad, and Dean can hear the rumble deep inside the chest and it's just like Dad, and maybe, maybe... maybe Dad stopped? Maybe he... maybe he's changed his mind and now he's gotta take him with?
“Please, please, please, please, don' leame, please, Dad, Daddy, please, please, I'm sorry, sorry, so-so-...” His voice scratches and he clings so hard to his dad so he can't let him go, so Dad has to take him with him, and maybe if he digs into Dad so hard, they can't ever leave him because they grow together like a tree with another. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry..” he sobs, and Dad's rocking on the cold ground, and he's saying something but he doesn't want to listen to the words, cuz maybe he's trying to say goodbye, trying to explain why he's leaving him with Pastor or maybe that he'll come visit.
When Dad lifts him up, carries him away from the Impala and towards Pastor Jim's house, he tries to struggle but not much. Dad says “Shh, Dean” and he just... he just slumps into himself. It doesn't matter, if Dad wants him to stay, there is no chance to fight him. Dad's bigger, and he's a hero and heroes can do anything. And if Dad can't count on him to be responsible, he can't fight evil things and so if he doesn't want people to die, he has to stay here.
It seems his body is okay with staying here, because he stops crying and just... waits.
“You found him, thank God.” Jim says and it is nice to know that Jim wants him to stay with him and all, but Dean can't really react, just... waits.
“More he found me,” Dad mumbles and then he sits on the couch with Dean on his lap, stroking his arms which is good, cuz he was plenty cold in the tree and now he gets warm. Still, he...waits.
“Dean? Dean, I'm sorry. I shouldn'ta yelled at you like that. Dean?” He shakes him, but just a little, takes his chin and makes him look into his face. “Hey, kiddo. Hey, don't cry Dean, c'mon stop crying.” Dad wipes the tears that started running again away, wipes his big, rubbly thumb over his cheeks and it tickles but Dean can't make himself laugh. He just stares into Dad's eyes, all dark and all shiny wet. Did Dad cry? Oh no, maybe... maybe...
“Sammy?” He dares to whisper, and Dad hugs him, which is nice and warm and he feels safe, and maybe it would be okay to let them go alone if they come visit sometimes. Maybe?
“He's fine. Sammy's fine, just asleep. Dean, listen. Can you listen?” Dean nods, then pulls himself together and looks at Dad, really looks, and nods again. “Good. Listen, Dean, I'm really sorry that I yelled at you and told you all that stuff. And I shouldn'ta shaken you, and I'm sorry. But what you did was really, really dangerous. I know you didn't want to hurt Sam, I know that. But he's just a kid and kids can't drink alcohol. Can you tell my why you gave him alcohol?”
**
His throat is dry and his tongue feels fuzzy, his head hurts from crying and his ankle pinches but he nods. “I... I... I'm sorry. But... Sammy was sick, he couldn't sleep cuz his head hurt an... and you al- always say that you drink it cuz it helps you sleep and when your head hurts an-and I-... I... I thought it's okay and I din't give him too much, I didn't, I only gave him a little, put it in some tea so it wouldn't taste so bad, just a half a glass, cuz he's littler than you, and I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, please, please take me with you, please don't leave me here, please, I'll be good, I swear, I'll be better, I'll...” But Dad stops him apologizing, just hugs him real hard and presses his face into his chest and then whispers in his hair.
“Dean, Dean, I'll never leave you, never, you hear me? Never. And I'm sorry I didn't listen, but I was so worried, and...” he stops and he won't leave him, and he hugs him and that's … well, it's nice. He likes getting hugs, but he's gotta show Dad now that he's big, that he can be better so he can hunt again and all, and Dean pulls away and coughs, wipes the snot into his sleeve. “Why would you think I'll leave you? Dean, how... how did you get that idea?”
Dean sniffs, takes a deep breath because it wouldn't be responsible if he cried still, not now, not when he knows Dad's not leaving. “S' okay. I.. It's stupid, s'just... I thought you … with the Impala...” Weird, really weird, his words are not coming like they should.
“Oh no, no, I was looking for you. Dean, I thought you might've gone to the town, and I... I was so worried, I was … thought you might be hurt, and I wanted to look for you. I didn't leave, I swear.”
“'Kay,” he nods, swallows around the dry throat. It's getting warm now, in Dad's lap, and he knows he shouldn't, but he likes it. He'd like to stay here a bit longer, but that's … that's what a little kid would do, and he's not a little kid. He needs to pull his weight.
“John?”
“I got him, Jim, he's okay.”
“I know, but you should check his ankle and I think his knee's bleeding.”
Oh. Oh, yeah, now he can feel it too. It stings, the jeans sticks to his knee and his foot hurts really bad but... but he can't show. “S' not so bad.”
“Really?” Dad asks, looks at him with one eyebrow up and he smiles a little. “you think it's not so bad? You really hit the road hard, kiddo, so I think it's a little bad. Let me take a look?”
Dean nods, because yeah, okay, Dad probably knows better.
~end~
Author:marlowe78
Rating: PG
Characters: Dean, John, Pastor Jim, Sam (mentioned)
Word count:
Spoilers: none, pre-series.
Warnings: Language? Dubious medical practice... Angst.
Summary: Dad is pissed. So pissed, and with good reasons. So Dean decided it's better to hide.
A/N: This story is a present for action-freak, who wanted "something where little Dean (6 to 10 years) is feeling guilty, but everything is up to you." I hope you'll like it, and thanks so much for encouraging me to write a new story *hugs*
Beta, again, by soncnica.
“DEAN!“
Dad's calling. He sounds real mad, and he is, he still is and Dean's not coming out, no, definitely not, no no no. He's not crazy, even though Dad thinks he is, but he's not, nope, not. He's not coming out, not right now, he's gotta, sometime, but not right now. He's really good here, all hidden and safe and Dad's way too big to get in here and drag him out. Dean knows he messed up, so bad, so so bad, and he's gotta be punished but not right now, maybe later, or maybe he can hide here forever?
“Dean, get here, right now. Dean!”
Dad sounds off, his voice is pitched so weird, but that's a trick, probably, he's trying to get him to come out even though Dad wouldn't do that, not such a sneaky thing, but he's really pissed and so maybe, he kinda would.
And Dean's not stupid, no, he isn't! No matter what they say, he isn't stupid, but... but maybe he is?
”What were you thinking? Dean! What the fuck were you thinking?”
Nothing, he didn't think, hadn't thought, and so maybe he is kinda stupid? 'cause if he'da thought, it wouldn't have happened and so maybe Dean is dumb, and being dumb is gotta be better than being a murderer, and he isn't! No, no, he wasn't gonna kill him! It was... not an accident, but he didn't do it on purpose!
”He could've died, Dean! What the fuck were you thinking, you could've killed him, or did you want that? Is that it? Did you want to kill him?”
Never! He would never kill him, never! It wasn't like that, it wasn't, and even though Sammy's annoying and stupid and messy and always eats Dean's stuff or takes his stuff, he wouldn't kill him, no, never! It wasn't like that, and Dad should know that, he shouldn't 've asked that, 'cuz Dean'd never do this, not even think 'bout it.
Dad should've known that, he knows that! But he did, so maybe he didn't? Maybe Dean didn't show it enough that he wouldn't hurt Sammy, if Dad thinks he might? And he didn't tell him that he was wrong, just stood there and cried and Dad'd been so pissed and had shaken him and it kinda hurt him but that's not why he cried.
”Tell me, Dean, tell me what the hell you were thinking! What. Where. You. Thinking!”
Stupid tears, stupid, stupid tears. He balls his fists and bites on them so he doesn't hiccup in his hideaway 'cuz he's not coming out and not betray where he's at to Dad. Dad's so pissed, and he might find him, 'cuz he's got super-sharp ears and …
Maybe he is stupid. He shoulda known, shoulda known not to give Sam the stuff, 'cuz Dad told him, told him a lot that it's not for kids, that it's for grownups and not for little kids, but he didn't think and that's right, he is stupid, has to be because he didn't think.
**
Dean listens real hard and when he hears Dad call from the other part of the garden, he carefully sniffs all the snot up into his nose because it's really yucky to have it drip into his shirt. He's not a little kid, he shouldn't be crying, but he can't stop, he can't, even though he wants to. Maybe he killed Sam. Maybe Sam's dead, gone, like Mo-Mom, an-and he did that, he killed Sammy? No, no, he was asleep, just sleeping, Pastor Jim'd said he was ”sleeping it off, John” and he'd said ”John, it's not his fault.” but he's wrong, it is his fault, he did it, he gave Sam to drink, Sammy didn't crawl up on the counter himself and drink it. So it's his fault, and Dad said so, Dad knows it's Dean's fault, he said so!
”Like Hell it's not, Jim! He gave him a full glass of Tequila, how do you figure it's not his fault!”
And Dean'd sobbed, and they'd spotted him, and Dad had grabbed him and shoved him into the kitchen, and Dean wanted to ask if Sammy's alright but Dad hadn't let him really explain, and the tears had stopped him from talking, stupid, stupid, fucking tears! He'd stood there like a crybaby, too dumb to talk.
”Tell me, Dean, what the fuck where you thinking! What did you think, the hell, why did you give Sam alcohol, why would you do something stupid like that, huh?”
And Dean had told, did, his breath was all funny and hitchy and the sobs had spoiled his voice and Dad had gotten even madder when he said.
”Are you serious? You gave him Tequila so he would sleep? What... what the... I can't even...” and Dad'd paced and looked at him with so much anger and something else, like he couldn't believe what Dean said, and he musta told it wrong cuz it wasn't because Sammy wasn't sleeping, it wasn't! Sammy was crying, and he was sick, and nobody was there and Dean wanted to make him better! That's all, and Dad always says it makes you better when you sleep, and Dad always said the stuff in the cupboard makes him sleepy, says it's like med'cine and he drinks it so he can sleep!
And Dean forgot that it was only for grownups, but he gave Sammy only a little, just half a glass, cuz Sammy's small and Dad's much bigger but then Sam wasn't waking up again and he got real scared and he tried to shake him awake and then, just then his dad and Pastor Jim came back and he told that Sammy wasn't waking and... and all got really bad then.
”Don't stand there and cry like a baby, I raised you better than this! Don't just stand there all silent and not saying anything!”
And that was unfair! So unfair! He wanted to tell, he did, but the stupid tears wouldn't stop and Dad wouldn't listen, not really, and Dad just shoved him at the shoulder and told him to ”get outta my eyes!” and he'd left, he left him, just there, in the kitchen, and that's when he ran, and hid, and now he's not coming out cuz Dad said ”And this talk ain't over, don't you think I'm done with ya, son!” and he believes him and he's not coming, nope, not, no no no.
They can't send him away if he's not there to do it, can they? He's gotta come out if Dad wants to send him away and if he's not gonna come out, he can't get told to go away.
**
“Dean!”
Dean curls up even tighter, tries to not breath so loud and he bites his lip so his breathing's not hitching and the stupid sobbing stops. He tastes blood, like when he fell from the swings in school and bit his tongue and it hurts a little but that's ok, he can deal with a little hurt.
As long's Sammy's really just sleeping, he's okay if he hurts a little, and Sam has to just sleep. Sam's gotta sleep, oh please, please, let Sam just sleep, please! The stupid tears sting in his eyes and in his nose but Dad's so close,too close, he can't let them come, can't cry so loud, like before.
“John!” Pastor Jim, he's calling Dad, and no, no, please, let it not be about Sammy! Pleasepleasepleaseplease, Sam's gotta be okay, he's gotta, he's gotta! “John, c'mon,...” The rest is swallowed by the night, pitch-black darkness out here, where Minnesota is all ruraly and no big city close by. He hears the heavy boots of Dad crunch away and he lets out the breath he held without realizing. Pastor Jim didn't sound too worried, so probably Sam'll be okay. Good, if Sam's okay, maybe Dad will not be so mad anymore? Not so disappointed cuz he wasn't acting responsible?
”If I can't count on you pulling your weight, if I have to worry all day what stupid shit you'll be up to, I can't go out, hunting. And you know what happens if I'm not out there? Do you? No, no, I don't think you do, Dean. I really don't, so I'll tell you. If I'm not out there, hunting evil, someone might die. Some kid may die, or an adult, and then there would be a little kid out there without his parents, and do you want that? Do you not care about people losing their kids, or their moms and dads?”
Dean had shook his head and Dad had looked at him, still angry. ”Good!” he'd said and the stupid tears had kept on running and they wouldn't stop.
A sudden noise tears through the night, one he knows like... well, better'n anything. Car door. Door from a Chevy Impala, 1967. It's their car, and that's the motor of their car, and no, no, nononononono, that can't be right! But he hears the rumble, can hear it, nearly feel it in his bones and no, no, Dad wouldn't just leave him here, wouldn't just leave him outside and go, drive away, he wouldn't!
With a cry, he's out of his hiding-place, nearly falls from the tree where Sam and he had found the awesome tree-cave up in 'tween the big branches, and he's off, running even though his feet sting from the drop, all the way up into his teeth.
“Dad!” he's yelling, “stop, please, please, please, stop, please, don't go, no, please, Daddy, Dad, DAD!”
He can see the backlights, jerking on the uneven dirt-road, and it's true, Dad's leaving, he's leaving, not even caring that he's right behind him, and Dean tears after them, not listening to the call of “DEAN!” from behind, from Pastor Jim, just stumbling in the dark over stones and some clumps of grass, but even though the car's not fast, not really driving real fast, he's too slow, can't catch up and his breath is funny and the snot's not letting him run as fast as he can. His foot twists over something and he hits the ground, pain shooting up in his leg and he cries out and that's it, that's it, he won't ever catch Dad and Sammy, won't ever get them now and he curls up on the cold dirt and starts to shake, from the cold, it must be from the cold because his tears must've run out by now, all dried up and gone. He shakes and sobs and when he hears footsteps running closer, he wants to die. He wants to die, begs to die because it must be Pastor Jim, coming to tell him that he's gotta have to stay with him now, that Dad's gone and he's gotta stay with Jim where he couldn't kill anymore little brothers.
“Dean!” he hears and then he gets grabbed and hugged and that's not Pastor Jim. Jim's nice, and he likes to cuddle, but this isn't Pastor Jim, he smells all wrong, and he's more hard than Jim, bigger. He smells like Dad, and he feels like Dad, and Dean can hear the rumble deep inside the chest and it's just like Dad, and maybe, maybe... maybe Dad stopped? Maybe he... maybe he's changed his mind and now he's gotta take him with?
“Please, please, please, please, don' leame, please, Dad, Daddy, please, please, I'm sorry, sorry, so-so-...” His voice scratches and he clings so hard to his dad so he can't let him go, so Dad has to take him with him, and maybe if he digs into Dad so hard, they can't ever leave him because they grow together like a tree with another. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry..” he sobs, and Dad's rocking on the cold ground, and he's saying something but he doesn't want to listen to the words, cuz maybe he's trying to say goodbye, trying to explain why he's leaving him with Pastor or maybe that he'll come visit.
When Dad lifts him up, carries him away from the Impala and towards Pastor Jim's house, he tries to struggle but not much. Dad says “Shh, Dean” and he just... he just slumps into himself. It doesn't matter, if Dad wants him to stay, there is no chance to fight him. Dad's bigger, and he's a hero and heroes can do anything. And if Dad can't count on him to be responsible, he can't fight evil things and so if he doesn't want people to die, he has to stay here.
It seems his body is okay with staying here, because he stops crying and just... waits.
“You found him, thank God.” Jim says and it is nice to know that Jim wants him to stay with him and all, but Dean can't really react, just... waits.
“More he found me,” Dad mumbles and then he sits on the couch with Dean on his lap, stroking his arms which is good, cuz he was plenty cold in the tree and now he gets warm. Still, he...waits.
“Dean? Dean, I'm sorry. I shouldn'ta yelled at you like that. Dean?” He shakes him, but just a little, takes his chin and makes him look into his face. “Hey, kiddo. Hey, don't cry Dean, c'mon stop crying.” Dad wipes the tears that started running again away, wipes his big, rubbly thumb over his cheeks and it tickles but Dean can't make himself laugh. He just stares into Dad's eyes, all dark and all shiny wet. Did Dad cry? Oh no, maybe... maybe...
“Sammy?” He dares to whisper, and Dad hugs him, which is nice and warm and he feels safe, and maybe it would be okay to let them go alone if they come visit sometimes. Maybe?
“He's fine. Sammy's fine, just asleep. Dean, listen. Can you listen?” Dean nods, then pulls himself together and looks at Dad, really looks, and nods again. “Good. Listen, Dean, I'm really sorry that I yelled at you and told you all that stuff. And I shouldn'ta shaken you, and I'm sorry. But what you did was really, really dangerous. I know you didn't want to hurt Sam, I know that. But he's just a kid and kids can't drink alcohol. Can you tell my why you gave him alcohol?”
**
His throat is dry and his tongue feels fuzzy, his head hurts from crying and his ankle pinches but he nods. “I... I... I'm sorry. But... Sammy was sick, he couldn't sleep cuz his head hurt an... and you al- always say that you drink it cuz it helps you sleep and when your head hurts an-and I-... I... I thought it's okay and I din't give him too much, I didn't, I only gave him a little, put it in some tea so it wouldn't taste so bad, just a half a glass, cuz he's littler than you, and I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, please, please take me with you, please don't leave me here, please, I'll be good, I swear, I'll be better, I'll...” But Dad stops him apologizing, just hugs him real hard and presses his face into his chest and then whispers in his hair.
“Dean, Dean, I'll never leave you, never, you hear me? Never. And I'm sorry I didn't listen, but I was so worried, and...” he stops and he won't leave him, and he hugs him and that's … well, it's nice. He likes getting hugs, but he's gotta show Dad now that he's big, that he can be better so he can hunt again and all, and Dean pulls away and coughs, wipes the snot into his sleeve. “Why would you think I'll leave you? Dean, how... how did you get that idea?”
Dean sniffs, takes a deep breath because it wouldn't be responsible if he cried still, not now, not when he knows Dad's not leaving. “S' okay. I.. It's stupid, s'just... I thought you … with the Impala...” Weird, really weird, his words are not coming like they should.
“Oh no, no, I was looking for you. Dean, I thought you might've gone to the town, and I... I was so worried, I was … thought you might be hurt, and I wanted to look for you. I didn't leave, I swear.”
“'Kay,” he nods, swallows around the dry throat. It's getting warm now, in Dad's lap, and he knows he shouldn't, but he likes it. He'd like to stay here a bit longer, but that's … that's what a little kid would do, and he's not a little kid. He needs to pull his weight.
“John?”
“I got him, Jim, he's okay.”
“I know, but you should check his ankle and I think his knee's bleeding.”
Oh. Oh, yeah, now he can feel it too. It stings, the jeans sticks to his knee and his foot hurts really bad but... but he can't show. “S' not so bad.”
“Really?” Dad asks, looks at him with one eyebrow up and he smiles a little. “you think it's not so bad? You really hit the road hard, kiddo, so I think it's a little bad. Let me take a look?”
Dean nods, because yeah, okay, Dad probably knows better.
~end~