Author: Kat Lee
Character/Pairing: John, wee!Sam, wee!Dean
Challenge/Prompt: comment_fic Supernatural - the Weechesters, John Winchester - he tries his best to be a good dad - requested by prisca1960
Word Count: 500
Date Written: 14 November 2017
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Kripke, not the author, and are used without permission.
He tries his best to be a good dad, but there’s so much he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how to make things right after losing his children’s mother, the only woman he’s ever loved. He doesn’t know how to make things right in a world where monsters are real and terror and death are always so close to his family’s door. He doesn’t know how to pretend that everything is okay except through straight out lying to his boys, and he doesn’t know how to feel okay with all the lies he now has to spout every damned day of his life.
It doesn’t help that he’s so tired every time he stops in with his children. All he really wants to do is to gather his boys close and run the Hell away from this life, from this world, run and hide somewhere, anywhere, where they can all be safe, but there is nowhere safe in this world. There’s nowhere for them to hide. Mary tried to hide. She tried to change, and the bastards came after her and killed her in their baby’s nursery.
There is nowhere to hide, nowhere to raise a family safely. Maybe that’s why when Sammy first tells him there’s a monster in his closet and his little eyes are full of real tears that John’s first reaction is to grab his gun and salt rock and head for the closet. He rips the door open so fast and hard that a hinge breaks. But then he stands in shock, looking at an empty closet.
Behind him, Sammy starts to cry. Dean, having just awakened at his father’s into their room, all but leaps from his bed in his haste to reach his brother. Reaching Sammy first, he wraps his kid brother tight into his arms and hugs him. “Sh, sh,” he whispers. “It’s okay. Monsters aren’t real. Daddy’s just playing.” But even as Sammy’s tears wet his shoulder and Dean hugs him harder, Dean glowers at John.
John gulps underneath his oldest son’s fierce glare. He knows what that look means. He’s tired of the lies. He’s tired of being hurt and of Sammy being hurt. John wants to tell him he’s tired too, he’s sorry too, but he can’t find the words. Much later, when Sammy is finally asleep in his big brother’s arms, Dean whispers angrily, “Sometimes, monsters are only dreams.”
Maybe they are, son, John thinks, leaving the two alone and hanging his head as he walks away. Sometimes, maybe they are. But the monsters he fights are real. The monsters that threaten his family’s very survival are real. The monster who killed Mary is damn sure real.
Maybe they aren’t always real, but his are. Maybe he wants to be a good dad, but maybe that’s not what he was intended to be. Maybe he was only supposed to be his boys’ protector, not their daddy. Sammy’s damn sure in good hands after all.