No Son of Mine

Lies Are Treacherous Things

!Warning!~ This chapter and following chapters might have derogatory comments and foul language directed towards a minor. Read at your own discretion.

Dean was scared. He was actually beyond that point, but he didn't dare let that show in case his dad looked at him.

He's not sure exactly what was said during the exchange between his father and Bobby, but when he saw the shotgun being pulled out and pointed at his father, he knew it wasn't good. He knew Bobby didn't want to tell his dad about the camping trip, and in all honesty, he didn't want to either- those memories were special, and Dean was perfectly fine with keeping them between the three of them that had actually been apart of them- but even if something had been said about the trip, Dean knew that there was no way that, Bobby, of all people, would've pulled out a shotgun just because of something so little.

It was confusing, and frustrating, and terrifying.

The car ride was silent save for Sammy's quiet snores from the front seat. Dean didn't know how his brother had slept through the slamming door or the squealing tires, but Dean felt it was all the better. Sammy would definitely recount all the cool and fun things he'd done over the weekend as soon as he was awake, and almost none of what he was going to say was apt to sit well with their father.

Dean didn't know how long exactly they had been driving but when his dad pulled into a motel hours from Bobby's house later that day, Sam surprisingly sleeping soundly throughout the entire ride, Dean let out a sigh of relief. Almost as soon as Dean's rush of adrenalin had worn off after the getaway from Bobby's, his bladder had decided to tell him that he had to go and he had been both too scared and too worried to ask his father to stop, resulting in a little boy jiggling with the absolute, right now, can't-wait-one-more-minute need to go.

He waited desperately and about as patiently as he could for his father to come back with the motel key, before rushing into the room as soon as the door was open. In his haste, he bumped into his father, who looked non too happy at the rough movement.

"Sorry sir! I gotta go to the bathroom really really badly." Dean crossed his legs out of necessity and did what Sammy liked to call a 'potty-dance'.

John's eyes raked up and down Dean before turning towards the car without saying a word. Dean took that as his cue and raced towards his destination with a steadfast determination.

Two minutes later Dean walked out of the bathroom with a loopy grin on his face and muscles loose with relief. Dean was sure that if he hadn't gone when he had, he would've exploded into a million pieces.

Dean hadn't walked two feet into the room when John came back into the room with Sammy in tow. Sam was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, but he was holding their dad's hand with a grin plastered on his face.

"I's told Daddy what we's did at Unca Bobby's!" Dean's heart fell as Sam's soared.

Dean risked a glance up at his father and cowered at the glower that he was met with.

"Sammy, buddy? You want to go out into the car again and wait for me? I know it's been a long drive, but I'm going to talk to your brother here for a sec and then I'll take you out for some ice cream. How about that?"

Sam jumped with glee and an excited shout and raced out of the room.

Dean didn't want to know what was coming next, especially with the way his father's muscles tensed with anger as soon as Sam was out the door.

"Do you have any idea what you've done today, Dean?" John's voice was colder than dry ice, and Dean shivered on the inside.

"N-no sir. I don't." His brain scrambled to think of anything that he had done that would make his father so angry. "I said I was sorry for running into you, dad. I didn't mean to, I swear it. I just had to really pee."

His father drew himself up until Dean felt like he was cowering in his shoes. "That's not what I'm talking about, you worthless klutz! Did you know that we're not allowed back at Bobby's house?"

Dean sucked in a shocked breath, but John plowed ahead, taking an intimidating step forward as Dean stepped back.

"Bobby said that you imposed on him so much, was being such a greedy, selfish little brat, that he didn't ever want to see your ugly mug again. And you know what? I don't blame him one bit. If I could leave your dumb ass behind in some motel room without having the cops chase me down, I would. But even though I can't stand the sight of your face, you know what I did? I stood up for you. I stood up for your ungrateful little ass so that we wouldn't lose the one good friend we had. I told Bobby that you were just having a hard time and that you weren't always such a little bitch, but he wouldn't have it. He wanted us gone, wanted you gone, and he said if he ever saw our faces again, he'd shoot us with his shotgun. Do you see what you've done now, Dean? You messed up everything. You've ruined the one good place, the one safe place, that Sammy had in this world. Now I'm going to have to stop hunting as much, I have to let innocent people die, so that I can make sure Sam's safe. And all those lives that are going to be lost because I'm not out there saving them, are going to be on your head, Dean. If you hadn't screwed up the one good thing in this life that Sammy and I had, those people would be safe and so would your brother." John was indifferent to Dean's tears and sobs as he stomped towards the door. He bent down to pick up a duffle and without warning, threw it at Dean, who staggered at the weight and speed of the unexpected burden. "When Sam and I get back, I want every single gun in that bag polished and shined, and if the metal doesn't gleam, your rear is going to be feeling it."

The door slammed shut after his father's retreating back and the rumbling of the Impala followed seconds after.

Almost thirty seconds went by in the dark motel room before any movement came from the single occupant. Dean's knees buckled and he fell to the floor, sobs tearing their way out of him with a brutal force. He was shattered on the inside, the weight and cruelty of his father's words to much for him to carry.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry. So Sorry." They were words that were sobbed into the foul motel carpet over and over again, his little body rocking with the strength of his cries. He wondered where things could've gone so wrong in just a little time, why all of a sudden everyone seemed to be against him, and what he had done to make his father hate him so much. "I'm sorry, Mommy. I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry, Bobby."

Dean stayed like that for more than half an hour, sobbing his apologies and trying to make sense of what had happened, but his father's command came to the forefront of his mind and he jumped up in fear to do as was ordered before they came back. He didn't know how long his father planned to keep Sammy out, and he prayed that his tears wouldn't slow him down while cleaning the guns.

Dean didn't have to worry about the guns, though, because John and Sam didn't come home that night.

Dean spent the first half of the night at the table, rubbing his fingers raw trying to get guns that were older than he was to look brand new again with just spit and an old oil rag. The other half was spent in hunger because he hadn't eaten since the small breakfast they'd had at Bobby's that morning, anxiety because his father and brother still weren't back, and fear because his father had said that the only thing keeping him from leaving Dean was the cops and what if the events at Bobby's had finally pushed John that extra inch and made him forget about the cops finding out, figuring that leaving Dean was worth having to lay low and out of sight for awhile.

Dean didn't sleep at all that night and if anybody had been there with the child during those torturous hours they would've known that he had cried himself to the point of dehydration, had apologized and pleaded to an empty motel room until his voice was hoarse and almost nonexistent, and had barely kept nine panic attacks at bay, failing twice and almost falling unconscious after not being able to bring himself back down after the second one.

Dean spent the night in fear, abandonment, and emotional pain. Sam and John spent the night in joy, happiness, and carefree relaxation.