Damage Done

Chapter 5 - A Good Father

By: Suz

No one has ever accused me of being a good father, at least, not in recent history. In my long list of failures, it's probably up at the top, right beside letting my wife burn to death. Nobody knows that more than me. Bobby's accused me of being a selfish bastard. Ellen Harville accused me of being an obsessed killer who let her husband be slaughtered. Never, a good father. Maybe there was a time, before demons and fire and blood ran through my life, that I could have been a decent father. Hard to remember back that far. I had a little over four years of being a real father before it all went south. Sometimes I want to ask Dean if he remembers the times when he followed me around at the garage and rode around on my shoulders, a time when we were normal, oblivious civilians. I don't ask because if he didn't, it would hurt me, and if he did, it would hurt him. What I've become now is some weird combination of crazed drill sergeant, warden, and parent. I won't flatter myself to call it "father" today, just parent.

The boys are still detailing the car and sweating off their party. Couldn't resist parking it right out in the sun to make it doubly miserable. I, on the other hand, have elected to sit here inside with the a/c blasting while I wait. Sam just glanced over and I raised my beer at him. He wants to give me the finger so badly his hands are twitching. Dean is avoiding looking over this way because he wants me to see how hard he's working. I need to keep my eyes on them. Last night, when I couldn't find them, it was hell. I'm keeping my eyes on them until this business is finished.

I stopped being truly pissed off when I left the diner. Dean spouting off about getting me laid was funny as hell. From the look on his face, I gather he didn't remember saying it. Probably doesn't remember much. I think Sam remembers what he said. Wish I didn't.

Back in country, when I was their age, we'd get so shitfaced we were smoking everything but our boots. If they would have gotten us high, we would have lit those up, too. That's what being eighteen and in war will do to you. We had the great luck to get in on the tail end of hell, when the whole world was losing its mind. Booze, grass, and ass were the only things that kept us sane. Saigon fell and we got on our knees happy to come home with a few scars to impress the girls and our asses still among the living. Thought I would get married and forget war; finish my enlistment on a cushy base coming home to my pretty wife every night. After that, I'd go out into the world and tell war stories for the next fifty years.

Never thought a new war would be the rest of my life. War is what I've given to my sons. I could have done what Mary's brother asked and signed them over to him and his wife to raise. The father in me couldn't bear to let them go. They were just two little boys without their mother, clinging to me like any second I could turn into smoke and be gone, too. They were Mary. They were all I had. I did it for me, and I'll own that one. People kept spouting this bullshit about me loving them enough to let them go. Right, I should love them enough to leave them with fools who don't know the monster under the bed is real? No way I'd do that. They didn't have a clue how much I loved those boys and still don't. Screw them.

Sam's on the other side of the car with the hose running over his head to disguise the fact that he's, once again, puking his guts out. Damn, I've never seen a kid puke that much. He's lucky I got the smell of vomit out of my boots or he'd be running ten miles. Seems he got hold of some vintage Balls in a Bottle last night. Found his mouth, that's for sure. Telling me to "suck it." That was funny later, after I wasn't walking around in puke anymore. Would have served Dean right if Sammy had puked in his bed. Watching him jump to Dean's defense made me proud. One day, it's just going to be the two of them, back to back. Dean is worrying about getting me laid and Sam's telling me to back off. Why can't they be quiet drunks? That's the trouble with kids. You can't wait for them to talk, and then they do.

Sam doesn't remember me as the dad who came home at night with a Milky Way stashed in my pocket for him. He doesn't remember Thanksgiving turkey and Santa Clause and cursing through building a swing set. He remembers my back heading out the door. I made Dean his father so I could kill things. "Places to go and things to kill." That's what he thought I was doing yesterday, and he was right.

The boys just walked through the door and I have to smile at them in their pain. Hell, that's what a father does, right? Kicks your ass when you screw up? They don't even have a clue how close they came to, as Dean says, gettin' ganked last night. Sam's look could peel the skin off my face, so Dean shoved him passed me as quick as he coul. He's always trying to protect him from me. My eldest thinks his brother needs protection from his own father, which is what I get for telling him to "watch out for your brother" four million times. I got what I asked for. I wanted Dean to do the grunt work so I could get revenge and he did it. Now, he's the father, not me. Makes me jealous sometimes. Like I want to kick his ass for taking the place I forced him into. How sick is that?

All of the weapons are spread across the room now while the boys start to work. It's an impressive arsenal, if I do say so myself. "Shot guns first," I tell Dean. Want to make sure those aren't out of commission long.

"Yes, sir," then he's back to work. I wonder what Dean would have been if I hadn't fashioned him into a killing machine? He's never killed anything human, I know that, but it's part of his nature now. Killing. I worry that his limits will change. Mine certainly changed. I went into my first war a cherry and left behind a body count even I don't want to think about and I was a teenager. Dean's first kill came when he was ten. The last thing to escape him was a Shtriga. Nothing since.

My eldest knows that life is temporary. You're supposed to be immortal at twenty-two. Dean indulges in life because he thinks it could be gone. Drinking, sex, loud music, food. He fights hard and lives hard. Live today because tomorrow you could be dead. That explains his behavior last night. Sammy did it for different reasons. Sammy's trying to declare his independence. Keeping this a dictatorship is the only way I can keep him safe.

By the time I got to the ceremony, after my screwed up attempt to find the succubus -- or succubi since there turned out to be two of those bitches -- I was too late. Dean had his arm wrapped around Sammy and someone was holding his camera to take a picture. There was a big smile on Sam's face so I'm guessing Dean had really laid it on thick to distract him from being pissed off at me. I know he was pissed because he's pissed every time I don't play along with his attempts to be like everybody else. When he was little, he'd be sad and pitiful about it. Now, as the years have gone by, his sadness has switched to anger. Dean worships me and fears me. Sam hates me and fears me. That makes Sam harder to control and scares the crap out of me. His bitterness is building every single day and the more I try to squash it, the bigger it gets. He refuses to see that we can't live like people who don't know the truth. We know. It's a target painted on our backs that will never go away. Dressing up like a clueless suburban family, going to school, playing soccer and getting diplomas won't change that. If Sammy doesn't get that through his head and accept it, he's not going to survive. His survival is what I have to be responsible for as his father. If he hates me, so be it.

The boys were already walking away when I made it through the crowd. What was I supposed to say? This was important to Sam. He's got a freaking 4.0, though he has no clue I know. He's damn smart, that boy. Hopefully, he's going to use those smarts to keep his ass alive and save some more people in the bargain. I stopped myself before tapping them on the shoulder and just let them walk away. Making a scene would have made it worse. Guess I shouldn't have assumed they would come straight back to the apartment. I drove around this town for hours looking before I went home. Didn't put me in a good mood for their return, that's for sure.

Damn it. I thought I'd have more time before they showed up but there they are, draped across the Impala waiting for me. The boys are still busy with their work. Dean got brave enough to turn on the radio a few minutes ago and he's mouthing the words to "Enter Sandman." Sam's never been much of a Metallica fan but he seems to be feeling good enough to nod his head in time with the music. They're so busy they don't notice me close the blinds.

"I'm going out. Don't you move until I come back." I said it in the roughest voice I could must.

"Yes, sir!"

Sam popped off again. Yeah, it was the correct response but he threw me a salute to top it off. Dean just elbowed him in the guts. I hope he doesn't puke again – or maybe I do. It would keep them both occupied and away from this window.

My gun's handy but that's all I've got at the moment. There are too many people around in the parking lot for full battle. Fire is the only weapon that works. I know it and they know it, too. As I walk toward them, I'm getting ready for the pissing contest we're about to have.

"Jenny and Penny, I presume?" They both slide down from the hood looking like teenaged cats in heat. "Sorry but I worked out my twins fetish years ago."

"Pity your boys just got around to it last night," says the first one. She's got long blonde hair and huge tits. Bet Dean went after that one. "By the way, I'm Jenny, Mr. John Winchester." Leaning back against the car with her hands in the pockets of her jeans, she doesn't look like a vicious monster, but in my experience, looks are the most dangerous weapon of all.

"Don't look all pissy, John." The other one is circling around behind the car. I've got to be careful not to get too close. "We just played with them a little. No biggie."

"Like you played with those six poor bastards last month?"

Penny is smaller, with these wide, wet eyes. Sam went for that one. I'm positive. "Look, they were old guys and couldn't take the drain. We don't like to kill people, just happens sometimes, Daddy."

She took a step toward me so I've pulled my gun from my back, holding it down by my side. She gets the idea and backs up.

"You two looked different when I trailed you yesterday. Quite a facelift."

"Oh, yeah, about that," Jenny says, flipping her hair in the breeze. "You were such a pain in the ass looking for us, we decided to change our form to teen bitch. Opens up a whole new market."

"Neat trick."

"Our Dad taught us." Penny's leaning over on her sister now, licking her lips at me. "You like? Your boys sure did!"

I hate a succubus just like I hate the rest of Hell's lineup but these bitches are at the top of my list. They've killed six men in six weeks but they just made it personal. They made the rounds of the yacht and country club scene, seducing lonely jerks, fucking their brains out, then literally sucking the life out of them. What a way to go, right? Leaving the boys out of this hunt was the smart thing to do. They aren't equipped to deal with these things. Last night confirmed it.

"From middle aged slut to young fresh slut. You're dad must be proud."

Jenny just shook off her sister and took on a more serious tone. "Look, Badass. We don't want any trouble. We're not wrapped up in the 'us against you thing' you have going with the rest of our people. We just want to have a little fun. Live and let live, okay?"

"Should have thought about that before you put your hands on my boys. I take that personally, bitch."

Penny is circling me now and I don't have a choice but to aim my nine at her. "Here's the deal, John. We can't kill you here and you know it. You can bust one of those pathetic salt rounds into me. It'll sting but it won't kill me and I don't see you setting two hot girls on fire in public. Attracts too much attention, right?"

"Who says I'm afraid of a little attention?" Covering both of them is getting to be a problem. "Might be worth it to light you both up and be done with it."

"As if!" Jenny just waved the other one off. "Let's cut to it. You and you're man-whore boys pack up and leave by midnight or we'll change form and wait for a chance to suck their lives out through their dicks, 'kay? Plain enough for you?"

"Listen, we don't want to hurt them," Penny says, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "I like that younger one and didn't take but just a taste out of him. It was a warning, Papa. But you know what we can do and they'd make it easy. We've got friends close by who would love to know the Winchesters are here but we're holding onto that intel. Take the deal, we'll keep quiet."

'I will never surrender of my own free will.' That's Article II of the Code of Conduct. Loved to spit that out when I was in uniform. Went along great with my other favorite Marine saying -- When in doubt, empty the magazine. Surrender is what you do when you've screwed up and backed yourself into a corner. It's weak. Makes me sick. Those two bitches are gloating and using my boys against me. It makes me want to tear their blonde heads off their necks. That "live to fight another day" bullshit makes me sick, too. I hate it. I want to fight this day, but I can't. I'm out numbered and those boys behind me think too much with their lower brain to deal with these monsters. I should have sent the boys to Bobby last month like I wanted but I didn't want to screw up Sam's last weeks in school. He's got to get this out of his system and be done with it. I relented and I screwed up.

They have me and I hate being had, damn it.

"Why should I believe you?" They've stopped circling me now. Penny's stroking the car like a boyfriend. That would truly piss Dean off – or get him off, who knows.

"Trailing hunters is very boring, Daddy," Jenny answers, rolling her eyes at me. "Rather spend my energy in horizontal pursuits."

"What makes you think I won't come back and fry your asses?"

"Promises, promises." Penny is licking her lips at me again. She yanks a pair of sunglasses from her pocket and pops them onto her nose. "Or, maybe you'd like a little taste yourself. We promise to be gentle. Best you've ever had."

"I doubt it."

"Take the deal, John."

"Don't tell me what to do, bitch."

"Ug! I'm getting so totally sick of that word!" Both of them took a step forward, so I've got to back up to keep a safe distance. A succubus can completely fuck up your thought processes.

"So, are you going or what?" Jenny's getting impatient. Must be close to happy hour.

"Get the hell out of my face and we'll go. I won't come back."

They high five each other and, witnesses or not, I'd give anything to have a torch at this second. I'm making sure the get in their car and drive away before I go inside. I don't have much faith in their word. Spawn of demons lie.

When I open the door, both boys are where I left them. Most of the guns are lined neatly against the wall like a battalion that could fight all on its own. Dean is sliding a blade across his whetstone. Sammy's creating holy water, mumbling over two gallon jugs and dipping in a rosary. I didn't even order him to do that, just decided on his own. Sammy loves holy water. When he was twelve, he had the bright idea to load a super soaker water gun with the stuff. Called it his "long distance demon detector." Dean told him it was gay and he'd better not let that toy anywhere near his Glock. Not the manliest weapon, but it did come in handy once before Dean tossed it out the window.

"Pack it up. We're leaving in an hour." I don't give them a chance to start questioning me. It'll take me fifteen to load my duffle bag and be ready to move. Loading the weapons will take longer.

"Where are we going?" Dean is looking up from his knife blade but not moving.

"Somewhere south." If I can get them moving, maybe we could be on the road in thirty minutes.

"On a hunt or moving?" Dean's voice is a little sharper.

"Moving out. We need a change."

I can feel the temperature change behind me.

"Why are we leaving?!" Sam's on his feet. Shit, couldn't he stay intimidated for the whole afternoon? "This is crap!"

"Sammy!" Dean's on his feet, too, grabbing his brother's arm and trying to drag him back as Sam tries to get to me. There was a time when Dean's grasp would immediately yank his little brother back three feet. Not anymore. Sam keeps coming, dragging Dean behind him till he's right at my back.

"Look, you made your point in the diner, Dad!" Sam's right at my neck and his tone is prickling my nerves. "We're idiots! You're the boss! Why do we have to pick up and leave?"

"Because I said so, boy." I don't dare turn around because if I do I'm not sure if I can take that boy in my face right now.

"That's bullshit! I'm not going!" Sam is planted at my back, in my way.

No choice now. I turn around so fast it startles both boys and they take a step back. My hands are on his shirt and damn it, we're eye to eye. It's hard to pull back when I want to shake him so badly. "I don't have to answer to you, Sam. Pack your shit."

He's unrelenting. "Why?"

I want to tell him it's because they were two sex-crazed idiots who might get fucked to death by succubus twins. I want to say I need to save your lives because these bitches can change form and leach the life out of you before I figure out who they are again. If I do, they will only argue more and, to top it off, I hate being forced to explain anything to children. He should listen and obey me and trust me, damn it.

Instead, I just glare in his bright red face and talk to Dean like Sam's not there making me want to clock him. "Dean, get your brother packed and in the car." Forcing my hands to let go, I pull myself away and ignore the tirade that begins behind me on my way out the door.

"I'm sick of this shit, Dean!"

"Shut up and pack."

"Why? Don't you want to know why, for once?!"

"It doesn't matter why, Sammy. Carry these and I'll put the knives in the case."

"I'm done with this 'my way or the highway' bullshit!"

I can hear drawers slamming inside as I reach the car to drive it closer to the door. Don't want to parade that arsenal across the parking lot.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?! Are you trying to piss me off, too?!"

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck yourself!"

For a few moments I can hear furniture rearranging as bodies fling around the room. Dean jerks open the front door, wiping his lip. The blood is smeared across the back of his hand and he wipes it on his jeans.

He walks passed me, laying his prized case of blades in the trunk. When he looks up at me, it isn't with an acknowledgement of our unity. He's just as angry as his brother. It's for different reasons. Once again, I've shoved him in the middle. Handle it, Dean. And he did.

"He's coming." He says it short and sharp, an official report.

Dean is on his way back for another load and now it's Sam's turn into the daylight. His knuckles are bleeding and stretched tight around two shotguns. With his hair in his face, it's hard to see the blue beginning to spread across his cheekbone. I want to ask who threw the first punch.

Sam is giving me a wide berth. It's not done in fear, either. It's like I'm not worthy of his notice. He's written me off.

We've loaded in record time and the boys have silently taken their customary seats. Sam is sullen and silent. Dean is bowed up like a puff adder, in the superior position of shotgun.

I'm pulling out into traffic now and damn glad of the silence. Gives me time to plan my return visit tonight after I have these boys a couple hundred miles from here.

You see, I lie to bitches who threaten my boys.

Burn, baby, burn.

The End