WFA: chapter five; fireworks
Title: Winchester Family Angst
Pairings: John/Dean (dub-con), Jess/Sam, Jo/Dean (past)
Rating: NC-17
For other information see part one: linked here
Chapter Five: Fireworks
It was late afternoon by the time they were all sat down for the family roast. Turkey with all the trimmings was sat proudly on an old table that only got used once a year and spent ninety percent of its time in storage. Everything smelt wonderful and Dean even allowed vegetables to grace his plate because he knew Ellen was a goddess in the kitchen. He was sat between John and Jo, her mother headed the table next to her daughter and opposite him was the happy couple. Conversation flowed as freely as the wine and beer, and soon they’re talking about when they were kids with Ellen threatening to find those naked baby pictures of Jo and Sam in the bathtub that first year John was hunting. The topic of childhood dreams and ambitions comes up and Bobby swallows nervously as John’s grip on his bottle turns knuckle white. There is an underlying tension in the room that almost suffocates Dean, but Jess grinned unaware and Jo giggled a carefree sound that reminded Dean of how young she and Sammy really were, all the more because they never took to hunting the same way Dean did.
“You really wanted to be a lawyer at fourteen?” Jess laughs, the expression on her face is one between pity and amusement but everyone can see the love and respect she has for Sam shining in her eyes.
Sam chuckled at his own geekiness. “Well yeah. I mean, I knew I wanted to go to college when I was fourteen but it took me a little longer to settle on a major,” he admitted.
“What did you want to be when you were fourteen, Dean?” Jess asked him, and Dean feels caught out like its some big trap. The first word that came to his mind was ‘free’, but he had been too long the good and loyal son to even think it loudly, instead he figuratively bites his tongue and let an enigmatic grin answer the question. Sam gave him a second look, and even John spent a good few moments staring down Dean in the wake of that question even though they had moved on and Jo was babbling safely about something hilarious that Ash did last get-together even though Ash insists he couldn’t remember the event taking place. Everyone laughed, but a wary feeling stayed with Dean. Truthfully no one had even thought to ask him what he wanted in life back when he was fourteen. Caleb had charged him with looking after his dad, his dad had drilled it in to him that the most important thing was to take care of Sammy, and Bobby had always been nagging him to watch John’s back when a hunt came up. The idea of Dean having dreams or ambitions of his own beyond playing surrogate mother to his brother or partner to his dad had clearly never occurred to them, and guilt was written all over their faces even as Ellen brought out the apple pie. It had never honestly occurred to Dean to care one way or the other. By the time he had turned fourteen his place in the family had been firmly established, and by the time he was old enough to escape the way Sammy had he’d been eighteen with a criminal record for grave robbing, breaking & entering and solicitation without a GED. There hadn’t been any other options but hunting.
“Okay, I think it’s time for drinks and tunes. Hostess gets first pick!” Ellen announced once the dishes were scraped clean. Everyone groaned, all too familiar with Ellen’s taste in music, but no one questioned her authority to pick whatever song she damned well liked from the jukebox that sat mostly unused in the corner near the bar. Jo dragged Sam onto the dance-floor, Sam was unwilling but Jess, kept company by Ash, thought it was hilarious as Sam fumbled with the footing and Jo kept trying to lead. Jim and Bobby started in on religion while Ellen allowed John to flirt with her, something he did every year since Ellen had forgiven him for Bill’s death, although as far as Dean knew (and he was in a position to know) they’d only fucked once, years ago. The night wore on and alcohol, which was never in any short supply, was drank with enthusiasm. Even John was guzzling down the pints, he moved on from beer to whiskey and Dean found himself holed up in a dark corner watching his inebriated father dreading what would happen with John’s defences down. Sam was happily distracted by Jessica, luckily, but Dean could feel a storm coming and with this family, he was never wrong.
There was a reason, after all, that John didn’t drink at ‘family’ gatherings and it wasn’t all to do with Sam, but of course Dean felt no guilt in letting Sam think it was all about him. In reality John got one of two things when he was drunk; pissed or horny. On lucky days it would be the anger, and Dean could lock himself and Sammy in the car and play loud music while John raged in the motel room or picked a fight at a bar. Life wasn’t fair; John knew that. When he was drunk, however, it was all about how John’s life got fucked up somewhere along the way. Mary was dead and he was stuck with two annoying kids following him wherever he went. Mary was gone and the thing that killed her was out there, mocking him with its very existence. Mary was dead, and Dean was so much like her. Attitude, eyes, and mannerisms. Those were the worst nights, when rage and arousal mixed until John was fucking Dean brutally, making him bleed, words screaming from his mouth so filthy they were forever burned into Dean’s skin. Engraved in his memory like the carving on a gravestone. Then there were times when he was just horny and all it would take was a hand-job or a blowjob before his dad was snoring contentedly on his bed and Dean would carefully slip his dad’s heavy boots off and pull a coverlet over him before sneaking back into Sammy’s bedroom hoping his mere presence would keep his younger brother safe from the monster in the room next door.
Tonight it’s an unfortunate combination of lust and violence. Sam’s obvious happiness away from his family made John cruel, and sure, if they’d had the privacy of a motel room then maybe Dean could have controlled John, or at the very least come out unscathed with just a few more curse words to add to his vocabulary. Not tonight. Not with Sam sitting there smiling obviously, Jess by his side and everyone laughing, laughing, laughing at John. At least, that’s what John thinks.
“Dad, no,” Dean breathed out, louder than he’d intended but barely loud enough to reach John’s ear. The older Winchester heard him, though, and Dean can tell by the tightening of his knuckles and the way his dark eyes narrow with displeasure that nothing he can say would stop John from doing whatever it is he wanted to do. He still tried though.
“Come on, dad. Why don’t we go upstairs and you can sleep it off?” Dean suggested with a desperate smile on his face.
“Is that all I can do?” John asked gruffly, his Kansas accent even more pronounced. He was close enough that Dean could smell the liquor on his father’s breath but loud enough that Dean worried they’d be overheard even in that dark corner.
Pain bloomed in his chest, the way it did every time his father uttered crass commands that Dean knew he wouldn’t refuse. Maybe if he had, even once, put up more than a token fight then he wouldn’t feel like he deserved it. But then, maybe if John had raised him to know the difference between fatherly affection and a drunken come on then Dean would have known how to say no, how to be afraid of his own father. All he’d wanted the first time was a return to kinder times, times when John would kiss him goodnight along with his mom. Affection had been non-existent since Mary died, at least as far as Dean had been concerned. No wonder he was so screwed up on the inside.
Dean closed his eyes for an instant and licked his dry lips before croaking out damning words from his parched throat. “Whatever you want, just not here!” He begged, emphasis on the last word.
John let out a cruel chuckle. “Such a fucking pretty little whore, always begging for it like you’re on your knees in the cold.” Dean’s heard it all before, which is why he doesn’t flinch even though the words hit him like bullets.
“What did you say?”
Fuck. It’s all over. Sam. Sam. Dean hadn’t been looking, hoping they would be safe in the dark little nook of Ellen’s bar. Obviously that hope was forlorn. Sam must have been passing from Jessica’s side to the bar, but Dean hadn’t even seen him get up. A hunter should know better.
John’s face flushed a ruddy colour, Dean doesn’t know if its embarrassment or anger but he is sure that neither are good emotions for John to be feeling right now. “Sam, why don’t you mind your own business and go get that sweet thing of yours a drink,” John tells his youngest son in a condescending voice that is one hundred percent guaranteed to set Sam off like a rocket.
Even as this all happened there was a small part of Dean that hoped he could somehow emerge from this situation without Sam finding out what his damage was. It was like a car crash and Dean couldn’t look away. Couldn’t open his mouth to make the situation better or worse. Couldn’t do anything but stand there in the dim light nursing that small flickering flame of hope and watch as the walls he’d erected around his dirtiest little secret came crumbling down.
“What the Hell, dad? You can’t speak to Dean like that! He’s your fucking son!” Sam ranted. It had always amazed Dean how his kid brother, the nerdy one who liked homework and always held doors open for women no matter their age or attractiveness, could go from calm to raging in 0.01 second.
“Yeah, he’s my fucking son so stay out of it, boy!” John yelled just in time for the music to stop. The bar went silent. Dean’s body flushed red with shame. Jo stepped closer to Ellen, exchanging worried and puzzled glances with her mother while Caleb and Bobby looked ready to pull Sam off John if this got any more heated. They couldn’t have known that John and Sam punching each other was far from the worst case scenario. No one in that room had even come close to guessing the truth. Dean definitely wanted it to stay that way.
“Don’t,” Dean’s voice was hoarse with fear, the word whispered but in the silence that filled the bar it was loud enough to bring both men’s attention back to him.
“Dean, you aren’t just going to sit there and take this shit are you?” Sam asked, astounded and unsurprised all at the same time. Sam was well used to Dean being the good, obedient son. He wasn’t used to hearing their dad call Dean a whore.
“I said leave off, Sam. You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Dean said, louder this time. Unfortunately his words become garbled when his dad speaks at the same time as him.
“Too damn well right he’s going to take it! He’ll take whatever I wanna dish out! Hear me, Sammy!” John yelled, progressively louder.
“Yeah, the whole room can hear you, dad. Hell, the whole state probably heard you! How much have you drunk, anyway, old man?” Sam asked pointedly.
The answer was obviously ‘too much’, although John didn’t exactly verbalise this. Instead he chose to show it with his actions, breath coming heavy as he lunged at his younger son. “How dare you, you little-”
“John, get your hands off that boy!” Ellen yelled, reaching behind the bar for a shotgun.
“You don’t wanna do this, Johnny!” Bobby warned as he stepped forward.
Danger. Danger, coming from everywhere all at once. Dean did the only thing his brain, which wasn’t completely sober, could think of and he threw himself at his brother and father, pulling limbs and attempting to separate them both as they locked into the brawl. Dean couldn’t get between them, so focused on each other as they were. Instead, as John ducked, Sam’s fist with the full weight of his unexpressed fury collided with Dean’s jaw. Luckily it was a gliding contact but the force behind it still knocked Dean to the ground, a red mark appearing rapidly as pain throbbed though his face.
Chaos. Words shouting, people moving as everyone got involved with separating the son and father. Dean stayed down on the floor, ignoring Jo as she tried to pull him to a safe distance away. Jessica was stood in the corner staring in shock and disbelief as her boyfriend kneed his own father in the abdomen before being wrestled to the ground by the older man whose muscle mass and skill far outweighed Sam’s despite his inebriated state.
The next clear words Dean heard was, “your brother’s a whore,” before the shotgun went off, luckily aimed at the ceiling although Ellen sure looked pissed enough to shoot someone.
“You two get the hell off each other and stop trying to kill one another this minute or so help me God I will put a bullet in you both!” John and Sam unwillingly separated, both out of breath and glaring with a rage they still felt. No one wanted to test Ellen; she was a woman who didn’t make threats lightly.
“Now what is all this about?” She demanded, gun still in her hands.
“Dad called Dean a whore,” Sam explained, his eyes on John.
“Well we all know Dean hear is a little bit free with the love, but there is no need for name calling. I’m just not sure why you thought you should start a brawl because your daddy’s tongue was a little loose. No need to start a fight just because John called Dean a man-whore. I thought you at least had more brain cells than that, Sam,” she chastised him.
“No, Ellen,” Sam said, his voice low and dangerous. “He called Dean a whore. His said ‘a pretty little whore, always begging for it like you’re on your knees out in the cold.”
“Sam, no,” Dean whispered, biting down on his lip hard enough to bleed.
“Sam, I’m sure you just mis-” Ellen begun but Bobby cut in.
“He didn’t.” Caleb’s voice was flat and there as an almost dead look in his eyes. He downed the contents of a shot glass and sighed heavily, “he didn’t mishear, Ellen.”
“Caleb?” Ellen whispered, shocked and disappointed. She put her gun down and glanced at her daughter like she wanted to send Jo away, realising this could only get worse. Jo, of course, had no intention of going anywhere. This was her family as much as it was anyone’s and she would stick it out to the bitter end. And oh, how very bitter that end was looking.
“I’ve known for a while. Just didn’t know how to say anything,” Caleb admitted.
“What do you mean? Dean’s not a prostitute!” Sam protested.
“Well, let me tell you son, pool ain’t the only thing he’s been hustling! You think he got all that money from conning old drunks in bars? Used to be a time when he couldn’t play shoot pool pr pull off a con if his life depended on it. Guess his talents lie in different directions,” John said maliciously.
Bobby swung his fist in John’s face, but the damage had already been done.
Sam’s expression was one of abject horror as his college boy brain did the math. Two plus two didn’t make five but option number four was horrific in the extreme. “But that wasn’t what you were talking about, was it? You weren’t talking about Dean picking up some nameless fuck to make some quick cash, were you? You were talking about yourself,” Sam said.
That tiny flame of hope Dean had foolishly been holding on to? It went out like someone had snuffed it with Sam’s words, not even a trail of smoke in the darkness that was consuming Dean from the inside out. A cruel little inner voice whispered ‘this is what you get when you fuck your daddy’. Was this what he deserved for not understanding all those years ago? For not saying ‘no’ once he had understood? For not leaving? For being a good son?
“What are you saying, Sam?” Jo asked, her voice quivering in the silence that hung around them.
“Don’t do this, Sam. Don’t say it, please, Sam. Just don’t,” Dean begged quietly.
“But I understand now. You fuck him. You have sex with your own son,” Sam said aloud. Too loud. Everyone heard. Dean wasn’t sure how but somehow Sam had managed to imbue the word ‘sex’ with more vulgarity and disgust than the word fuck or whore. It stung worse than a slap across the face. Hurt more than the constant ache of being Dean. More than the pain of Sam’s punch just minutes before.
“John, you wouldn’t-” Jim began. A man of faith, even when all around him was darkness and demons. Jim couldn’t accept the reality. There was no god. There was no explanation for John’s words other than the one staring them all right in front of their faces.
“Not like the boy protested. He’s a whore, Sammy, it’s all he’s good for-” John drawled out, watching his son. John seemed to be enjoying Sam’s reactions, like knowing that his words hurt Sam more than any punch or bullet wound could ever hurt John. Tonight John Winchester was invincible.
“Get the fuck out of my bar, Winchester! NOW!” Ellen said, so quiet yet so clear, cold fury echoing through her voice as she aimed the shotgun at John.
Dean wasn’t looking at Ellen, however, and he didn’t know she was talking to John. He froze at the sound of her voice, hearing her rejection followed swiftly by the click of the safety being taken of the gun. He saw the disgust written all over Sam’s face, and the repulsion on Bobby’s. His heart beat was out of control, so loud in his own head it was like everything else being said was miles away. He lifted his aching body up from the floor and took off out the door, Bobby’s words “if I ever see you again, Johnny, I’m gonna put a bullet in you myself,” echoing in his ears despite the fact he wasn’t even taking it all in.
Pain. Everything inside of him was a mess of pain. He saw Bobby’s car and hotwired it quickly, knowing Pastor Jim would give the other man a lift back and that Bobby always had more than one car. Right now he just needed to get away. He drove off into the dark, speeding to put as many miles between the family he had once had and himself as he could. Tears streamed from his eyes but he ignored them. He ignored everything except the sound of the engine and his heart beat thudding away in his ears, letting him know that mercilessly he was still alive.
“Ellen, put the g-” John began, too drunk to really understand his mistake and too cruel and wretched to read the sorrow and pain etched all over Ellen’s face.
“Damn you, John Winchester, I let you into my bed once, and into my family. Damn you to Hell!” She cursed, spitting out the words.
“Ellen, come on I-” John took a step forward, and fell to the ground. He hadn’t actually expected Ellen to shoot him. The blood pouring from his shoulder was a testament to how serious Ellen had been. The wound was clean through and through with no vital organs near, so John would live. If he could get out of here.
“Go,” Ellen said, and, clutching his arm, he did.
“Oh my lord,” Ellen said, sitting down on the stool behind her with a thump. The silence was broken. Jim went after John with the intent of at least bandaging his arm, and Caleb buried himself in his arms as guilt wrecked him. Sam stood in the centre of the room, cold and furious. How could his own father be that sick? And how the Hell could Dean let him?
“Mom, Dean’s gone,” Jo said, her voice no more than a scratchy whisper as tears soaked her pale cheeks.
Ellen looked around and noticed for the first time that Dean had slipped away. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. Right now she couldn’t cope. “I know honey. Maybe that’s for the best right now.”
Jo nodded silently, and pressed herself against her mother’s warm comforting body like she was still a little girl. Ellen held her tight, kissing her forehead and trying to hug away the nightmare they had just experienced.
“Sam?” Jess said softly, not wanting to startle her boyfriend. He was still stood exactly where he had been when John had existed the building bloody and drunk. She touched his arm gently and tried not to take it personally when he flinched violently.
“Sam, I need you to look at me,” Jess said, still quiet as everyone else started picking up bits of furniture and returning to their drinks. The mood in the room was sombre but no one wanted to talk about it. Sam, however, had started shivering and Jess was scared he was in shock. Tonight was just about the ugliest night she had ever been a part of, Jessica was barely hanging on and it wasn’t even her family. She couldn’t imagine how Sam felt.
“They just... they... I can’t believe-” Sam’s voice broke, and tears fell down his face. In that moment he looked so much younger than his twenty-one years.
“I know, baby. I know,” Jess whispered soothingly as she pulled him close to her. She listened to his heart beat as it returned to normal and held tight.
“My own brother,” Sam sounded broken.
“It can’t be easy to know he was being abused. I’m sure you’re thinking that you should have known - might have been able to stop it... but you can’t think like that, Sam. It’s your dad and older brother. They’re supposed to look after you, not the other way around,” she said, trying to help.
“How could I have known, when they were lying to me all this time. God, I thought I learned the worst when I was eleven... I just never imagined that Dean would be so sick as to do that with our own father,” Sam told her, and Jessica stepped back from him.
“What? I... Sam, Dean was probably just a kid when it started. How could he have stopped your dad? He’s your dad, you know, and if there was no one around to help then how could Dean know that it was wrong or how to stop it? You can’t seriously be blaming him,” Jess said, incredulous.
“No, I... I mean... Well, yeah, I guess I am. Okay when we were kids, fine, he couldn’t have stopped him. But when we were older... Dean’s twenty-five, Jess. He could have left anytime since he was eighteen, and he didn’t. He just let our d- let John keep on... it’s sick, Jess,” he finished.
Jess ran a hand through her blonde hair and shook her head at her boyfriend. “Sam, honey, it’s not like one day you wake up and realise ‘hey my dad is abusing me, I better take off now I’m an adult’. Besides, when he was eighteen you were fourteen. It wasn’t like he could just leave you behind.”
Sam’s eyes widened, his jaw firmed. That thought clearly hadn’t occurred to him. It had been years since he had had to call on his big brother for help, shooting up five inches and putting on thirty pounds of raw muscle meant he was more than capable of defending himself once he had turned fifteen. But then Sam had never had to try and defend himself against their dad. In training exercises Sam had always been paired with Dean, occasionally John and Dean would spar and when that happened John would always without fail come up the victor despite having twenty years on Dean. Sam had struggled just now fighting with his dad and the man was past his prime and stinking drunk whereas Sam had several inches on him and not an ounce of superfluous flesh on him.
“I see your point, Jess. I do. But to come here and volunteer to stay in the same room as dad? I just can’t understand that unless... unless he was willing,” Sam said.
Jessica sighed. Clearly she wasn’t going to be able to convince Sam in one night. Jess didn’t know any more about Dean’s relationship with his father, but she had studied cases of domestic abuse during her social work classes, father’s who would rape their daughters and the daughters would grow up completely faithful even to the point of bearing their own father’s children and protecting their secret. Power was a dangerous thing, and parents had it over their children no matter what their ages were. As far as Jess was concerned a hundred percent of the blame lay on Dean’s father, and not on Dean himself.
“Come on, let’s go home,” she said, sighing warily and Sam agreed, pulling her close as they made their way to their room to pack.
Jess was worried that fair-wells would be stilted and awkward after the revelations on the night. However the Roadhouse family surprised her. Bobby embraced Sam warmly, a tear in his eye as he made Sam promise to look after himself and call if anything came up. Anything at all. Ellen sounded angry at Sam as she bid him goodbye, but there was a deep fondness him her dark brown eyes that was clearly reflected in Sam’s warm smile. Jo pounced on him, hugging him tightly before kissing him on the cheek and turning to Jess to offer a hug and a phone number. Caleb, still guilt ridden and alcohol sick, only shook Sam’s hand, his grip was fierce as he apologised to Sam for not doing more to help Dean when they were growing up. Sam cast Jess a furtive glance and escaped from that conversation as quickly as possible. Ash waved goodbye from behind the bar, and Jim was gone when they got outside, so that was that. This year’s thanksgiving was passed in a haze of confessions and alcohol. Jess couldn’t say she was sorry they were leaving as they drove off into the night, but neither could she say she was sorry she had come.
... Link to next chapter (new as of October 2011)
Pairings: John/Dean (dub-con), Jess/Sam, Jo/Dean (past)
Rating: NC-17
For other information see part one: linked here
Chapter Five: Fireworks
It was late afternoon by the time they were all sat down for the family roast. Turkey with all the trimmings was sat proudly on an old table that only got used once a year and spent ninety percent of its time in storage. Everything smelt wonderful and Dean even allowed vegetables to grace his plate because he knew Ellen was a goddess in the kitchen. He was sat between John and Jo, her mother headed the table next to her daughter and opposite him was the happy couple. Conversation flowed as freely as the wine and beer, and soon they’re talking about when they were kids with Ellen threatening to find those naked baby pictures of Jo and Sam in the bathtub that first year John was hunting. The topic of childhood dreams and ambitions comes up and Bobby swallows nervously as John’s grip on his bottle turns knuckle white. There is an underlying tension in the room that almost suffocates Dean, but Jess grinned unaware and Jo giggled a carefree sound that reminded Dean of how young she and Sammy really were, all the more because they never took to hunting the same way Dean did.
“You really wanted to be a lawyer at fourteen?” Jess laughs, the expression on her face is one between pity and amusement but everyone can see the love and respect she has for Sam shining in her eyes.
Sam chuckled at his own geekiness. “Well yeah. I mean, I knew I wanted to go to college when I was fourteen but it took me a little longer to settle on a major,” he admitted.
“What did you want to be when you were fourteen, Dean?” Jess asked him, and Dean feels caught out like its some big trap. The first word that came to his mind was ‘free’, but he had been too long the good and loyal son to even think it loudly, instead he figuratively bites his tongue and let an enigmatic grin answer the question. Sam gave him a second look, and even John spent a good few moments staring down Dean in the wake of that question even though they had moved on and Jo was babbling safely about something hilarious that Ash did last get-together even though Ash insists he couldn’t remember the event taking place. Everyone laughed, but a wary feeling stayed with Dean. Truthfully no one had even thought to ask him what he wanted in life back when he was fourteen. Caleb had charged him with looking after his dad, his dad had drilled it in to him that the most important thing was to take care of Sammy, and Bobby had always been nagging him to watch John’s back when a hunt came up. The idea of Dean having dreams or ambitions of his own beyond playing surrogate mother to his brother or partner to his dad had clearly never occurred to them, and guilt was written all over their faces even as Ellen brought out the apple pie. It had never honestly occurred to Dean to care one way or the other. By the time he had turned fourteen his place in the family had been firmly established, and by the time he was old enough to escape the way Sammy had he’d been eighteen with a criminal record for grave robbing, breaking & entering and solicitation without a GED. There hadn’t been any other options but hunting.
“Okay, I think it’s time for drinks and tunes. Hostess gets first pick!” Ellen announced once the dishes were scraped clean. Everyone groaned, all too familiar with Ellen’s taste in music, but no one questioned her authority to pick whatever song she damned well liked from the jukebox that sat mostly unused in the corner near the bar. Jo dragged Sam onto the dance-floor, Sam was unwilling but Jess, kept company by Ash, thought it was hilarious as Sam fumbled with the footing and Jo kept trying to lead. Jim and Bobby started in on religion while Ellen allowed John to flirt with her, something he did every year since Ellen had forgiven him for Bill’s death, although as far as Dean knew (and he was in a position to know) they’d only fucked once, years ago. The night wore on and alcohol, which was never in any short supply, was drank with enthusiasm. Even John was guzzling down the pints, he moved on from beer to whiskey and Dean found himself holed up in a dark corner watching his inebriated father dreading what would happen with John’s defences down. Sam was happily distracted by Jessica, luckily, but Dean could feel a storm coming and with this family, he was never wrong.
There was a reason, after all, that John didn’t drink at ‘family’ gatherings and it wasn’t all to do with Sam, but of course Dean felt no guilt in letting Sam think it was all about him. In reality John got one of two things when he was drunk; pissed or horny. On lucky days it would be the anger, and Dean could lock himself and Sammy in the car and play loud music while John raged in the motel room or picked a fight at a bar. Life wasn’t fair; John knew that. When he was drunk, however, it was all about how John’s life got fucked up somewhere along the way. Mary was dead and he was stuck with two annoying kids following him wherever he went. Mary was gone and the thing that killed her was out there, mocking him with its very existence. Mary was dead, and Dean was so much like her. Attitude, eyes, and mannerisms. Those were the worst nights, when rage and arousal mixed until John was fucking Dean brutally, making him bleed, words screaming from his mouth so filthy they were forever burned into Dean’s skin. Engraved in his memory like the carving on a gravestone. Then there were times when he was just horny and all it would take was a hand-job or a blowjob before his dad was snoring contentedly on his bed and Dean would carefully slip his dad’s heavy boots off and pull a coverlet over him before sneaking back into Sammy’s bedroom hoping his mere presence would keep his younger brother safe from the monster in the room next door.
Tonight it’s an unfortunate combination of lust and violence. Sam’s obvious happiness away from his family made John cruel, and sure, if they’d had the privacy of a motel room then maybe Dean could have controlled John, or at the very least come out unscathed with just a few more curse words to add to his vocabulary. Not tonight. Not with Sam sitting there smiling obviously, Jess by his side and everyone laughing, laughing, laughing at John. At least, that’s what John thinks.
“Dad, no,” Dean breathed out, louder than he’d intended but barely loud enough to reach John’s ear. The older Winchester heard him, though, and Dean can tell by the tightening of his knuckles and the way his dark eyes narrow with displeasure that nothing he can say would stop John from doing whatever it is he wanted to do. He still tried though.
“Come on, dad. Why don’t we go upstairs and you can sleep it off?” Dean suggested with a desperate smile on his face.
“Is that all I can do?” John asked gruffly, his Kansas accent even more pronounced. He was close enough that Dean could smell the liquor on his father’s breath but loud enough that Dean worried they’d be overheard even in that dark corner.
Pain bloomed in his chest, the way it did every time his father uttered crass commands that Dean knew he wouldn’t refuse. Maybe if he had, even once, put up more than a token fight then he wouldn’t feel like he deserved it. But then, maybe if John had raised him to know the difference between fatherly affection and a drunken come on then Dean would have known how to say no, how to be afraid of his own father. All he’d wanted the first time was a return to kinder times, times when John would kiss him goodnight along with his mom. Affection had been non-existent since Mary died, at least as far as Dean had been concerned. No wonder he was so screwed up on the inside.
Dean closed his eyes for an instant and licked his dry lips before croaking out damning words from his parched throat. “Whatever you want, just not here!” He begged, emphasis on the last word.
John let out a cruel chuckle. “Such a fucking pretty little whore, always begging for it like you’re on your knees in the cold.” Dean’s heard it all before, which is why he doesn’t flinch even though the words hit him like bullets.
“What did you say?”
Fuck. It’s all over. Sam. Sam. Dean hadn’t been looking, hoping they would be safe in the dark little nook of Ellen’s bar. Obviously that hope was forlorn. Sam must have been passing from Jessica’s side to the bar, but Dean hadn’t even seen him get up. A hunter should know better.
John’s face flushed a ruddy colour, Dean doesn’t know if its embarrassment or anger but he is sure that neither are good emotions for John to be feeling right now. “Sam, why don’t you mind your own business and go get that sweet thing of yours a drink,” John tells his youngest son in a condescending voice that is one hundred percent guaranteed to set Sam off like a rocket.
Even as this all happened there was a small part of Dean that hoped he could somehow emerge from this situation without Sam finding out what his damage was. It was like a car crash and Dean couldn’t look away. Couldn’t open his mouth to make the situation better or worse. Couldn’t do anything but stand there in the dim light nursing that small flickering flame of hope and watch as the walls he’d erected around his dirtiest little secret came crumbling down.
“What the Hell, dad? You can’t speak to Dean like that! He’s your fucking son!” Sam ranted. It had always amazed Dean how his kid brother, the nerdy one who liked homework and always held doors open for women no matter their age or attractiveness, could go from calm to raging in 0.01 second.
“Yeah, he’s my fucking son so stay out of it, boy!” John yelled just in time for the music to stop. The bar went silent. Dean’s body flushed red with shame. Jo stepped closer to Ellen, exchanging worried and puzzled glances with her mother while Caleb and Bobby looked ready to pull Sam off John if this got any more heated. They couldn’t have known that John and Sam punching each other was far from the worst case scenario. No one in that room had even come close to guessing the truth. Dean definitely wanted it to stay that way.
“Don’t,” Dean’s voice was hoarse with fear, the word whispered but in the silence that filled the bar it was loud enough to bring both men’s attention back to him.
“Dean, you aren’t just going to sit there and take this shit are you?” Sam asked, astounded and unsurprised all at the same time. Sam was well used to Dean being the good, obedient son. He wasn’t used to hearing their dad call Dean a whore.
“I said leave off, Sam. You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Dean said, louder this time. Unfortunately his words become garbled when his dad speaks at the same time as him.
“Too damn well right he’s going to take it! He’ll take whatever I wanna dish out! Hear me, Sammy!” John yelled, progressively louder.
“Yeah, the whole room can hear you, dad. Hell, the whole state probably heard you! How much have you drunk, anyway, old man?” Sam asked pointedly.
The answer was obviously ‘too much’, although John didn’t exactly verbalise this. Instead he chose to show it with his actions, breath coming heavy as he lunged at his younger son. “How dare you, you little-”
“John, get your hands off that boy!” Ellen yelled, reaching behind the bar for a shotgun.
“You don’t wanna do this, Johnny!” Bobby warned as he stepped forward.
Danger. Danger, coming from everywhere all at once. Dean did the only thing his brain, which wasn’t completely sober, could think of and he threw himself at his brother and father, pulling limbs and attempting to separate them both as they locked into the brawl. Dean couldn’t get between them, so focused on each other as they were. Instead, as John ducked, Sam’s fist with the full weight of his unexpressed fury collided with Dean’s jaw. Luckily it was a gliding contact but the force behind it still knocked Dean to the ground, a red mark appearing rapidly as pain throbbed though his face.
Chaos. Words shouting, people moving as everyone got involved with separating the son and father. Dean stayed down on the floor, ignoring Jo as she tried to pull him to a safe distance away. Jessica was stood in the corner staring in shock and disbelief as her boyfriend kneed his own father in the abdomen before being wrestled to the ground by the older man whose muscle mass and skill far outweighed Sam’s despite his inebriated state.
The next clear words Dean heard was, “your brother’s a whore,” before the shotgun went off, luckily aimed at the ceiling although Ellen sure looked pissed enough to shoot someone.
“You two get the hell off each other and stop trying to kill one another this minute or so help me God I will put a bullet in you both!” John and Sam unwillingly separated, both out of breath and glaring with a rage they still felt. No one wanted to test Ellen; she was a woman who didn’t make threats lightly.
“Now what is all this about?” She demanded, gun still in her hands.
“Dad called Dean a whore,” Sam explained, his eyes on John.
“Well we all know Dean hear is a little bit free with the love, but there is no need for name calling. I’m just not sure why you thought you should start a brawl because your daddy’s tongue was a little loose. No need to start a fight just because John called Dean a man-whore. I thought you at least had more brain cells than that, Sam,” she chastised him.
“No, Ellen,” Sam said, his voice low and dangerous. “He called Dean a whore. His said ‘a pretty little whore, always begging for it like you’re on your knees out in the cold.”
“Sam, no,” Dean whispered, biting down on his lip hard enough to bleed.
“Sam, I’m sure you just mis-” Ellen begun but Bobby cut in.
“He didn’t.” Caleb’s voice was flat and there as an almost dead look in his eyes. He downed the contents of a shot glass and sighed heavily, “he didn’t mishear, Ellen.”
“Caleb?” Ellen whispered, shocked and disappointed. She put her gun down and glanced at her daughter like she wanted to send Jo away, realising this could only get worse. Jo, of course, had no intention of going anywhere. This was her family as much as it was anyone’s and she would stick it out to the bitter end. And oh, how very bitter that end was looking.
“I’ve known for a while. Just didn’t know how to say anything,” Caleb admitted.
“What do you mean? Dean’s not a prostitute!” Sam protested.
“Well, let me tell you son, pool ain’t the only thing he’s been hustling! You think he got all that money from conning old drunks in bars? Used to be a time when he couldn’t play shoot pool pr pull off a con if his life depended on it. Guess his talents lie in different directions,” John said maliciously.
Bobby swung his fist in John’s face, but the damage had already been done.
Sam’s expression was one of abject horror as his college boy brain did the math. Two plus two didn’t make five but option number four was horrific in the extreme. “But that wasn’t what you were talking about, was it? You weren’t talking about Dean picking up some nameless fuck to make some quick cash, were you? You were talking about yourself,” Sam said.
That tiny flame of hope Dean had foolishly been holding on to? It went out like someone had snuffed it with Sam’s words, not even a trail of smoke in the darkness that was consuming Dean from the inside out. A cruel little inner voice whispered ‘this is what you get when you fuck your daddy’. Was this what he deserved for not understanding all those years ago? For not saying ‘no’ once he had understood? For not leaving? For being a good son?
“What are you saying, Sam?” Jo asked, her voice quivering in the silence that hung around them.
“Don’t do this, Sam. Don’t say it, please, Sam. Just don’t,” Dean begged quietly.
“But I understand now. You fuck him. You have sex with your own son,” Sam said aloud. Too loud. Everyone heard. Dean wasn’t sure how but somehow Sam had managed to imbue the word ‘sex’ with more vulgarity and disgust than the word fuck or whore. It stung worse than a slap across the face. Hurt more than the constant ache of being Dean. More than the pain of Sam’s punch just minutes before.
“John, you wouldn’t-” Jim began. A man of faith, even when all around him was darkness and demons. Jim couldn’t accept the reality. There was no god. There was no explanation for John’s words other than the one staring them all right in front of their faces.
“Not like the boy protested. He’s a whore, Sammy, it’s all he’s good for-” John drawled out, watching his son. John seemed to be enjoying Sam’s reactions, like knowing that his words hurt Sam more than any punch or bullet wound could ever hurt John. Tonight John Winchester was invincible.
“Get the fuck out of my bar, Winchester! NOW!” Ellen said, so quiet yet so clear, cold fury echoing through her voice as she aimed the shotgun at John.
Dean wasn’t looking at Ellen, however, and he didn’t know she was talking to John. He froze at the sound of her voice, hearing her rejection followed swiftly by the click of the safety being taken of the gun. He saw the disgust written all over Sam’s face, and the repulsion on Bobby’s. His heart beat was out of control, so loud in his own head it was like everything else being said was miles away. He lifted his aching body up from the floor and took off out the door, Bobby’s words “if I ever see you again, Johnny, I’m gonna put a bullet in you myself,” echoing in his ears despite the fact he wasn’t even taking it all in.
Pain. Everything inside of him was a mess of pain. He saw Bobby’s car and hotwired it quickly, knowing Pastor Jim would give the other man a lift back and that Bobby always had more than one car. Right now he just needed to get away. He drove off into the dark, speeding to put as many miles between the family he had once had and himself as he could. Tears streamed from his eyes but he ignored them. He ignored everything except the sound of the engine and his heart beat thudding away in his ears, letting him know that mercilessly he was still alive.
“Ellen, put the g-” John began, too drunk to really understand his mistake and too cruel and wretched to read the sorrow and pain etched all over Ellen’s face.
“Damn you, John Winchester, I let you into my bed once, and into my family. Damn you to Hell!” She cursed, spitting out the words.
“Ellen, come on I-” John took a step forward, and fell to the ground. He hadn’t actually expected Ellen to shoot him. The blood pouring from his shoulder was a testament to how serious Ellen had been. The wound was clean through and through with no vital organs near, so John would live. If he could get out of here.
“Go,” Ellen said, and, clutching his arm, he did.
“Oh my lord,” Ellen said, sitting down on the stool behind her with a thump. The silence was broken. Jim went after John with the intent of at least bandaging his arm, and Caleb buried himself in his arms as guilt wrecked him. Sam stood in the centre of the room, cold and furious. How could his own father be that sick? And how the Hell could Dean let him?
“Mom, Dean’s gone,” Jo said, her voice no more than a scratchy whisper as tears soaked her pale cheeks.
Ellen looked around and noticed for the first time that Dean had slipped away. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. Right now she couldn’t cope. “I know honey. Maybe that’s for the best right now.”
Jo nodded silently, and pressed herself against her mother’s warm comforting body like she was still a little girl. Ellen held her tight, kissing her forehead and trying to hug away the nightmare they had just experienced.
“Sam?” Jess said softly, not wanting to startle her boyfriend. He was still stood exactly where he had been when John had existed the building bloody and drunk. She touched his arm gently and tried not to take it personally when he flinched violently.
“Sam, I need you to look at me,” Jess said, still quiet as everyone else started picking up bits of furniture and returning to their drinks. The mood in the room was sombre but no one wanted to talk about it. Sam, however, had started shivering and Jess was scared he was in shock. Tonight was just about the ugliest night she had ever been a part of, Jessica was barely hanging on and it wasn’t even her family. She couldn’t imagine how Sam felt.
“They just... they... I can’t believe-” Sam’s voice broke, and tears fell down his face. In that moment he looked so much younger than his twenty-one years.
“I know, baby. I know,” Jess whispered soothingly as she pulled him close to her. She listened to his heart beat as it returned to normal and held tight.
“My own brother,” Sam sounded broken.
“It can’t be easy to know he was being abused. I’m sure you’re thinking that you should have known - might have been able to stop it... but you can’t think like that, Sam. It’s your dad and older brother. They’re supposed to look after you, not the other way around,” she said, trying to help.
“How could I have known, when they were lying to me all this time. God, I thought I learned the worst when I was eleven... I just never imagined that Dean would be so sick as to do that with our own father,” Sam told her, and Jessica stepped back from him.
“What? I... Sam, Dean was probably just a kid when it started. How could he have stopped your dad? He’s your dad, you know, and if there was no one around to help then how could Dean know that it was wrong or how to stop it? You can’t seriously be blaming him,” Jess said, incredulous.
“No, I... I mean... Well, yeah, I guess I am. Okay when we were kids, fine, he couldn’t have stopped him. But when we were older... Dean’s twenty-five, Jess. He could have left anytime since he was eighteen, and he didn’t. He just let our d- let John keep on... it’s sick, Jess,” he finished.
Jess ran a hand through her blonde hair and shook her head at her boyfriend. “Sam, honey, it’s not like one day you wake up and realise ‘hey my dad is abusing me, I better take off now I’m an adult’. Besides, when he was eighteen you were fourteen. It wasn’t like he could just leave you behind.”
Sam’s eyes widened, his jaw firmed. That thought clearly hadn’t occurred to him. It had been years since he had had to call on his big brother for help, shooting up five inches and putting on thirty pounds of raw muscle meant he was more than capable of defending himself once he had turned fifteen. But then Sam had never had to try and defend himself against their dad. In training exercises Sam had always been paired with Dean, occasionally John and Dean would spar and when that happened John would always without fail come up the victor despite having twenty years on Dean. Sam had struggled just now fighting with his dad and the man was past his prime and stinking drunk whereas Sam had several inches on him and not an ounce of superfluous flesh on him.
“I see your point, Jess. I do. But to come here and volunteer to stay in the same room as dad? I just can’t understand that unless... unless he was willing,” Sam said.
Jessica sighed. Clearly she wasn’t going to be able to convince Sam in one night. Jess didn’t know any more about Dean’s relationship with his father, but she had studied cases of domestic abuse during her social work classes, father’s who would rape their daughters and the daughters would grow up completely faithful even to the point of bearing their own father’s children and protecting their secret. Power was a dangerous thing, and parents had it over their children no matter what their ages were. As far as Jess was concerned a hundred percent of the blame lay on Dean’s father, and not on Dean himself.
“Come on, let’s go home,” she said, sighing warily and Sam agreed, pulling her close as they made their way to their room to pack.
Jess was worried that fair-wells would be stilted and awkward after the revelations on the night. However the Roadhouse family surprised her. Bobby embraced Sam warmly, a tear in his eye as he made Sam promise to look after himself and call if anything came up. Anything at all. Ellen sounded angry at Sam as she bid him goodbye, but there was a deep fondness him her dark brown eyes that was clearly reflected in Sam’s warm smile. Jo pounced on him, hugging him tightly before kissing him on the cheek and turning to Jess to offer a hug and a phone number. Caleb, still guilt ridden and alcohol sick, only shook Sam’s hand, his grip was fierce as he apologised to Sam for not doing more to help Dean when they were growing up. Sam cast Jess a furtive glance and escaped from that conversation as quickly as possible. Ash waved goodbye from behind the bar, and Jim was gone when they got outside, so that was that. This year’s thanksgiving was passed in a haze of confessions and alcohol. Jess couldn’t say she was sorry they were leaving as they drove off into the night, but neither could she say she was sorry she had come.
... Link to next chapter (new as of October 2011)