Rating: Teen
Spoilers: None, really, I don't think.
Genre: Gen
Notes: Pre-series, wee!Winchesters, John, Dean and Sam
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not being paid.
Author's Notes: Thank you so much to embroiderama and Freelance for betaing and Freelance for putting up with the long freak out over what to call the fic. This is my first foray into Supernatural, so it was a scary leap posting this.
John looked in the rear-view mirror and frowned. The car was too quiet. More specifically, the boys were too quiet.
Sammy slept, drooling slightly, tired from hours of games with his brother. John hadn't thought that any child could be more energetic or cause more trouble than Dean, but Sammy had proven him wrong. The child was a powerhouse of energy, which was a barrel of laughs on long car trips. Dean, at six, was a handful too but he did manage to keep Sammy entertained, even while distracting John with random questions and babbling. John was still trying to figure out what 'how do tadpoles grow into frogs' had to do with how you became president.
When John became fed up with them both, it wasn't like he could say, "Boys, stop acting up or I'll turn the car around and take you home," as he used to do when it was just one boy being a little too loud. Mary used to give him this wide-eyed stare of 'John Winchester, I have your number' before encouraging Dean to be even louder and driving his father even further to distraction.
But Dean was quiet now, staring out the side window with a frown on his face. John checked the time and realised that he hadn't heard an "Are we there yet?" from his oldest in quite a while. As much as he found the boys' shenanigans and Dean's endless talking to be distracting and a nuisance, the silence was unnatural. It reminded him of times he'd rather forget; times when Dean hadn't talked at all, to him or Sammy.
Silent periods seemed to be becoming part of his life with Dean. Whenever Dean was scared, worried about something or had had a particularly bad nightmare he'd just shut down and shut John and Sammy out. He'd still play with Sammy, but it would be silent and more out of duty than fun, which Sammy seemed to be able to sense. It would become Sammy's personal mission to try and get his brother to play properly, and he would very quickly become frustrated when Dean wouldn't bend to his will. John had taken to running interference for Dean after he found Sammy ready to hit Dean over the head with his Tonka truck.
John glanced back at Dean again. "Hey, Mr. President Dean, Sir, you're quiet." Dean had told John earlier in the day that he was to be called "Mr. President", as he was going to be President one day. Dean was still staring out the window at the scenery going past. John sighed and hoped that this time wouldn't last too long.
It was late when they checked into the motel. They'd stopped to eat at a diner where Dean resolutely kept his silence, making ordering fun. John had seen a look of pity in the waitress's eyes when Dean pointed to what he wanted on the menu instead of saying it and didn't say thank you when John told him to. He'd barely eaten any of his burger and fries once they'd arrived, which hadn't improved John's mood. They were running a bit tight on money, and he couldn't afford to be buying Dean food that he wasn't going to eat and then have Dean get hungry sometime in the middle of the night.
Both the boys were asleep when John stopped in front of their room, though Dean stirred as John shut his door. John got Sammy out and took him into the room, pulling down the covers before laying him down on the bed without waking him. The boy slept through anything. He lifted Dean out of the car and received a sleepy "Daddy" in reply. When Dean was half-asleep the silence seemed to disappear, as if he wasn't conscious enough to realise that he shouldn't talk. John rubbed his back gently, carried him into the room and laid him down on the bed with Sammy.
"Daddy," Dean protested, his eyes barely open when John untangled his arms and tried to move away.
"Shh, go to sleep, Dean," John whispered, resting his hand on Dean's face. Dean's eyes closed obediently and he snuggled in next to his brother. John waited until he was fairly certain that Dean was asleep before taking Dean and Sammy's shoes and socks off and pulling the covers up. He reached over and gently brushed their foreheads. "Night, boys."
John turned the TV on with the sound down low and slumped on his bed. Get Smart was playing, and he allowed himself to not think and just enjoy the stupidity of the show. When he felt himself drifting off to sleep he got up, turned off the TV and went into the bathroom to clean his teeth and wash his face. He shut the door to reduce the light shining on the boys and got ready for bed. He didn't look too long at the old man in his mirror other than to note that he needed to shave. He'd just finished when he heard a loud "Daddy!" from the other room.
He pushed open the door hurriedly, and rushed out. Dean was sitting up in bed, tears streaming down his face. "Daddy!"
John crossed to sit on the edge of the bed and pulled Dean into his arms. "Hey, hey," he said, rubbing Dean's thin back. "What's wrong, Dean? You have a nightmare?"
Dean's head nodded against his chest.
"Want to tell me what it was about?"
Dean's head shook.
"You sure?" John asked, dropping a kiss on to the top of Dean's head.
Dean's head shook again, but then the words poured out. "They took you away, and I'm too young to get a job, and who'll take care of Sammy?"
John had to repress a laugh as he tilted Dean's face up to look at him. "Slow down, Dean. Who took me away?"
"The police." Dean's face screwed up again, and he burst out into fresh sobs. "Because you're a bad person and you have a gun."
John rocked him gently. "Oh, Dean. Did you see part of what I was watching the other night?" Dean nodded his head. That would teach John for watching Hill Street Blues. It seemed Mary was right, that kids pick up on more than you realise. "It's okay, Dean. Nobody's going to take me away. And I have a gun so that I can be a good person and help people, like the police do. Soon, you'll be able to help people too."
Dean lifted his head from John's chest and looked up. "But then they'll take me away too."
"No, they won't, Dean; I promise you that. Nobody is going to take you away. Not ever. Was this what was bothering you this afternoon?"
Dean nodded and wiped the back of his hand over his eyes before wiping his nose. "Ahh," John said, getting some tissues out of his pocket and handing them to Dean. "You know better than that." Dean blew his nose before solemnly handing the tissues back to his father.
"Thank you, Dean." John put them back in his pocket and reminded himself to put them in the trash before he tried to use them. Dean lolled in his arms, resting against his chest. "I think it's time you went back to bed, don't you?" He lifted Dean back up and helped him climb under the blankets next to a still sleeping Sammy. "Go back to sleep. I'm not going anywhere."
John sat on the edge of the bed long after he knew Dean was asleep, watching and listening. He'd have to start telling Dean about hunting, to allay any fears he had. Of course, then Dean would have a new set of fears. He just hoped that he would be smart enough to not say anything to the other kids when he went back to school.
John didn't want to have to do this. His boys deserved more than this life. They deserved to grow up in a house, to go to college, to meet and marry wonderful women.
He didn't want this life for his boys. He didn't.