SPN Fic: The Wellington Fort (Part 1/3)
Title: The Wellington Fort
Category: Gen, pre-series
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean, Sam, John
Summary: The way Dean told it that summer was the best of their lives. For Sam, it was the summer he stopped believing in heroes. 9-year-old Sam and 13-year-old Dean.
Warnings: Themes of child abuse. Swearing.
Word Count: 2700 (this section)
Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are the property of its creators and the CW network.
Author’s Note: The John in this story is by no means a monster, but an imperfect parent who is dealing with his problems in the wrong way. Please don’t think that this is my only view of John. This is just a possible John.
This fic was beta’d by the fabulous kokoda2007 and today happens to be her birthday. Happy birthday!
The Wellington Fort
Years later, when Sam thought about the most significant periods of his life, he’d always come back to that summer they’d spent in northern Colorado. Dean would occasionally tell stories about it and always start the story with “remember that summer with the Wellington fort…” The way Dean told it, the summer was the best of their lives. They both did a lot of growing up during those months and Sam figured it was in essence the last summer of Dean’s childhood. Perhaps that was why Dean only remembered the good parts.
For Sam, it was the summer he stopped believing in heroes.
He sat on the ground wiggling his loose tooth and tried to pay attention. He and Dean sat facing their dad, who was sitting on a tree stump teaching them something that was probably important. Dean leaned forward, nodding and concentrating on Dad’s every word. Sam figured the cloud behind Dad’s head looked like a sword and Dad’s head was about to get chopped off.
“You listening, Sam? Because I don’t wanna say all this again.”
“Yes, sir.” He straightened up.
Dean snickered.
“Don’t underestimate the value of fortification. I can think of three examples from the last six months where I’d have been toast if I’d forgotten the tactics of fortifying my position.”
“Like with that werewolf when we stacked the desks in the corner,” Dean said.
“Precisely,” Dad said absently and continued.
Dean grinned and shoved Sam who had gone back to wiggling his tooth. Dean always got everything. It especially wasn’t fair now because Sam didn’t even get to go on that hunt with the werewolf, how was he supposed to know about it?
He decided he liked May in Wellington, Colorado. It was a lot warmer than May in St. Paul where they’d finished out the school year. Dad said they could stay here for a while and Sam was glad. Dad also said they were going to get a surprise and it had to have something to do with that pile of lumber they’d hauled out here.
Dean elbowed him.
He and Dad were both staring at him.
“What?”
“I just asked you if you know the two types of fortifications?”
Sam did his best impression of Dean’s thinking face and was wondering if he looked like him when Dad said, “well?”
Two types of fortifications, two types of fortifications. “Castles and forts?”
“Good try…”
Dean leaned over to him. “Sammy, I’m so glad we’re not in this field permanently.
Dean could really make it hard to concentrate sometimes.
“Did I ask you to help him?” Dad said.
“No, sir.”
“Good forts and bad forts?”
Dean laughed and even Dad cracked a smile. “Well, I guess that’s probably true, son. But the two types are permanent fortifications and field fortifications.” Dad paused to make sure Sam was still paying attention. “Field fortifications are built in the field with whatever materials are available and will only be used for a short period of time.”
“Like the desks!”
“Good, Sammy.”
He loved it when he made Dad happy, truly happy. When that happened Dad’s eyes smiled. Dean adjusted his shirt and fidgeted. He was jealous but he didn’t know anyone caught on to that, especially not Sammy.
“We don’t have much use for permanent fortifications, but it’s important to learn about them nonetheless and the fighting tactics are the same regardless.”
Sam sighed. It was important for them to learn about everything. The sword in the clouds above Dad’s head had morphed into a crown. He leaned over to one side so the crown fit over Dad’s head. Dad needed a crown, heroes need crowns.
Dad kept talking about fort tactics, but Sam’s mind wandered again. They’d only been in Wellington for a couple of days, but he figured it was just about perfect. Wellington was good for hunting because it was close to a lot of things like Denver and the Rocky Mountains and Wyoming. Best of all though, Dad had said, it was still in the country so the boys could train easier. Their house wasn’t too bad. It didn’t have a TV, but Sam wouldn’t miss it since the yard backed up to the countryside. There was a trail which cut through the fields and into a wooded area and then looped back again.
“OK, so here’s my surprise. We brought these tools and lumber out here for a reason…”
Sam figured it out. “Are we going to get to build a fort?”
“That you are, Sammy.” Dad was smiling again. “Though it’s not all fun and games, boys. We’ll be using it to train. You’d better build it to last.”
Dean got up and inspected the lumber and Dad clapped his hand down on Dean’s shoulder and smiled. “Every boy needs a fort some time, Dean. It’s a requirement of childhood.”
Sam couldn’t wait to start building, but Dad explained the strategic importance of location and he and Dean spent an hour figuring out the best place to put the darn thing. Dean finally settled on a spot in the woods that was on the top of a little hill. From there it was possible to see the occasional car passing on the road, but only barely because of the trees. It also wasn’t too far from the back path that they ran laps on every day.
Dad helped for the first hour or so but then left them to it. Dean gave Sam baby jobs like ‘hold this board here while I nail it’ or ‘organize the nails by size.’
“Why do you keep writing notes, just build it! Dad’s not watching anymore.”
“Everything in its own time, Sammy. Every piece has to fit exactly to the plan.”
“God. And you call me a nerd.”
Dean smacked him on the back of his head.
His brother spent every free moment of the next week working on that fort. He loved it. Sam loved it too, but for Dean it was different. He wanted it to be perfect. He sanded every inch so that it was baby-smooth. “Splinter-free” he’d said. He’d even cut out a few secret hiding places, “for ammo.” Sam knew of one of them, but was pretty sure there were more, although try as he might, he never found them.
Training was always hardest in the summer and this was no different, but Dad gave them special training around the fort which was fun and the fort itself became their spot. Whenever they didn’t have to do anything else, that’s where they’d go. Dean called it their “secret spot” but secret from whom he never really said. Sam thought it was because, just like how every kid needed a fort, every kid also needed a secret spot, a safe spot that was theirs alone.
Training continued even when Dad was away. Dean made sure of it.
“Come on, one more try, Sammy.”
Sam let himself collapse, breathing heavily. Dean was trying to teach a hand-to-hand combat combination Dad had said Sam should have already learned. They’d started working on the darn combo back in St. Paul and despite working on it for hours, he still didn’t have it.
“Dean, I’m too tired.”
“Naw, you can do it. Think about how happy Dad’ll be with you when you can do it by the time he gets home.”
“I’m never going to get it.” Sam smacked his hand on the dirt.
“Sure you will.”
“Dean, how old were you when you learned it?”
“That doesn’t matter. Besides, how the hell should I know how old I was?”
“But you do, Dean. I heard Dad telling you that you learned this move when you were seven!” Sam’s breath caught in his chest. He was never going to be as good as Dean.
“Come on, don’t feel bad. Think about how good you are at Latin compared to me and I’m thirteen.”
“Dad’s going to be pissed I don’t have it yet.”
“Don’t worry about Dad. Let me deal with him. Just do it for me because I know you can do it. Do it so that one day you’ll kick my ass. How’s that sound?”
Sam sniffled. “Pretty good.”
Sam couldn’t believe it, but Dean was right, he did get the combo down by the time Dad got home. Even after he got it Dean made them keep practicing it so he would get it perfect. He was really excited to show Dad, but knew Dean was even more excited, not that Dean would ever want to actually let on how excited he was. Dean was much too cool for that.
They were at the fort when Dad got back, Dean was watching out for him and saw the Impala drive by down at the road so they jogged home to meet him. The road circled around the long way so they weren’t even winded by the time Dad pulled up.
Sam jumped over to him when the car rolled to a stop. “I learned it, Dad! I can do it now!”
“Good Sammy,” he patted Sam’s shoulder and strode passed him. “You got dinner ready yet, Dean?”
“Um, no sir. I didn’t know when you’d be home. Sam and I already ate, but there are leftovers in the fridge…”
“You couldn’t even wait until seven to eat?”
Sam and Dean stood just inside the door and watched their dad pull out the container and eat the cold spaghetti. Yuck, how could his dad eat things like that?
“So sparring after dinner, boys? Going to show me Sam’s new combo?”
“Yes sir!” Seems Dean forgot to act like Mr. Cool for a minute now that Dad was home.
Dad put the dish in the sink without rinsing it. Dad was allowed to do things like that. “Ready boys?”
Outside Dean circled Sam and after a few warm-up thrusts, led him into his combo. Sam did it! He might have had his form a little off, but he still got all the important stuff. Dean smiled big and they turned to Dad. His expression was hard to read.
“Good, Sam. When you practice it, work on keeping your left arm higher and don’t have your feet so close together. But I’m proud of you, son.”
Sam was happy, although he saw that Dean wasn’t smiling anymore. Sam went inside, but watched from the open kitchen window. Dad glanced back at the house but didn’t see him.
“Dean, I thought I told you how important it was that he learns this?”
Sam felt as if cement had been poured into his chest. He thought he had learned it.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“He was dropping his left arm. His feet were too close together. What, you just work on it for an hour and thought that was OK? I need you boys strong. I need you boys able to defend yourselves. I don’t need you slacking off when you should be helping your brother.”
I know I didn’t do it perfectly, but I could do it right next time, thought Sam. Dean should tell Dad he told me how to do it right and we practiced for hours and hours.
Dean kept his head down and his shoulders hunched forward. Why doesn’t Dean say anything?
Dad continued, “Listen, I had a tough hunt and I’m tired. I’m sorry I have to be hard on you, but I fucking expect more from you, Dean. Stop being such a disappointment and step up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sam jumped down and got to the kitchen sink just in time for Dad to come into the house. Dad went straight to his room and slammed the door and Sam looked out again and saw Dean wiping something off his cheek and then heading out along the trail. He turned off the faucet and ran out the back door. “Be back in a minute!” he yelled to Dad.
Sam followed Dean all the way to the fort where Dean just sat for what seemed like ages. Finally Sam came up to him.
“Hey.”
Dean looked up and grinned. “Hey there!” There was no sign of any tears. You’d think Sam had just imagined it.
Sam thought about asking why Dad got so mad and why Dean didn’t tell Dad how many times he’d made him practice that combo, but he knew there had to be a good reason and it would only piss off Dean if he asked.
“You shouldn’t have come out here all by yourself.” Dean sighed. “Do you wanna work on that combo a bit more, buddy?”
Sam didn’t really want to work on it anymore, especially not after Dad yelled, but he just shrugged.
Dean got to his feet and they sparred there at the fort until nightfall. Sam couldn’t believe how darn chipper Dean was acting as they did the combo over and over and over again until they heard Dad calling them to come in for the night.
A couple of days later they’d finished morning training and had a couple of hours to kill and went to the fort. Now that it was finished and not even Mr. Perfectionist could do any more tinkering, Dean would just hang out there, reading magazines or sharpening sticks with his knife. This day he just sat in it, watching the chipmunks scurry around and Sam playing a game he made up about pirates and pirate ships.
Finally Dean picked up a stick and did some sword fighting with Sam. It was great, Sam barely remembered a time when Dean actually played with him.
“Okay, Peg-leg Joe, Dad said to be back by two. Let’s get your ass back to the house before I decide to cut your other leg off.”
Sam laughed. “Thanks for playing, Dean. It was fun.”
Dean ruffled Sam’s hair. “Yeah, bitch, I guess it was.”
-O-
Sam knew he was a pretty smart kid, regardless of what Dean might say, and he picked up on a lot that went on around their house. He knew that Dean would do anything in the world to make Dad happy. Dad was his hero. He knew that nothing in the world made Dean feel worse than when Dad was mad at him.
That’s why they were sitting here now, at the fort. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that any time Dean felt bad he went to the fort. Sam and Dean had been here for a couple of hours now, not doing much. They were currently tossing a tennis ball back and forth.
Dean was sporting a nasty bruise on his left cheek and even though Sam wasn’t there to see it, he knew it was from Dad. Dean must have done something bad, because Dad only ever hit them when they were really bad.
“Wanna go into town later? We could sneak into the new Batman movie?” Sam said.
“Na, it’s better here.” Dean squinted up towards the sunlight filtering through the leaves.
“Damn right it’s better here!”
Both boys jumped at the sound of Dad’s voice.
Dean stood up quickly and brushed dirt off his jeans. “Sorry sir, I didn’t hear you come up.”
Dad was grinning. “Who needs movies when you’ve got a good old fashioned water balloon fight brewing with the old man?”
It was amazing how quickly Dad could go from irritable to this version of Dad. A red streak flashed past Sam and then a splash hit him as the water balloon hit Dean’s chest.
“Ah!” Dean squeezed the water out of his shirt and grinned. “Awesome!”
Dad handed Dean a couple of plastic bags filled with water balloons. “OK boys. It’s you two against me. Your base is the fort. Mine is that big tree trunk over there. You have five minutes to get ready.”
Excitement squeezed at Sam’s stomach. They had the best Dad ever.
On to Part 2...