The Sad Reality of Things ( Destiel and Sabriel)

Let's go

Another motel, another night for John to visit yet another bar. Dean sat alone in his bed, staring at a picture of himself and Mary, Led Zeppelin playing softly from the walkman attached to the headphones in Dean's ear. Sam had gone out for a late night jog, needing to clear his head after yet another argument with John. So there Dean was, Alone in his mind as well as physically. Maybe if he hadn't been that zoned out, he would have heard John come in, sumbling in his steps. Maybe he wouldn't of had left himself open and vulnerable to any attack. Yeah, Dean was to blame when he let his father attack him and try to pin him down to the bed. Whispering sweet nothing to who John had thought was mary.

Dean didn't remember his mother much. Her face had always been a bit fuzzy in his memories, only truly remembering her face through pictures filled with happiness and hope- so very different from the world Dean and his brother lived in now.(though, to be quite honest, Sammy never did get happiness or hope.) Part of him felt it was best to just forget her- that maybe forgetting  her was the key to stop hurting. But most of him, blamed himself for everything- for her death, for John's mental instability, and for even wanting to forget his dear mother. He didn't remember much of his childhood. Or at least, that's what Dean had told his brother. It was all too good to be true anyways. Besides, it was unfair that Dean at least had a mother in at least a fraction of his life; he couldn't  just tell Sam how good of a mother Mary had been and just rub it all in his face. He just couldn't bring himself to tell Sam that instead of getting shitty motel breakfast for his third birthday like Sam, he had been given some homemade apple pie instead of cake because that was how spoiled he had been back then. But most importantly, Dean couldn't tell Sam that John had actually cared and loved Dean when Mary was still alive.

John had loved his family with all his life. Everything was perfect, he had a beautiful son that looked just like his mother, another baby on the way,  and a gorgeous and loving wife to seal the whole deal. John was living an apple pie life with his beautiful family and his beautiful home. But he lost it all in the blink of an eye. And it was all his fault. He was the one who brought his guard down and got too comfortable. The threat had long since been eliminated and there was no reason to believe he was going to be hunted down. Granted, he wasn't the one to be hunted down in the end- it was Mary. John knew what the murder of his beloved wife meant. It meant that they knew of Sam and Dean and that they weren't going to stop until one of them stepped in for John's place. It was too late for John- he had already thrown away his shot at redemption. No, they needed one of John's kids to take his place as they would be even stronger than him. John had blamed them instead of himself for what happened to Mary. it was Dean's fault for being born with his mother's eyes and hair and determination. It was Sam's fault for having her spirit and her brains. But above all, it was because having them, was the reason Mary had been killed. He just couldn't take it; seeing their faces everyday was just like having Mary by his side again. But he knew better. Mary was dead and not even he could survive death, much less a human. But instead of grieving and moving on, John hunted. He hunted whoever killed Mary. training the boys to be sneaky and stealthy so that they could join him and at least have a chance of survival if something were to happen to him. But, how could they hunt something down, if they themselves didn't even know what it was? John had refused to ever tell them what it was. Just told them that it was their responsibility to kill the thing that murdered their mother because she died for them- her blood in their hands.

"John," Dean started, trying to shake out of his father's grip. "Let go."

John smirked," Oh Mary, stop playing hard to get. It's been awhile since we got to play. Dean is asleep. Come on, love."

    Dean felt shivers run down his spine. John's breath reeked of booze and cigarettes. Disgusting, Dean thought, almost saying it outloud.

    "Dad stop it now!" Dean screamed as soon as John's lips hit his neck, trying his hardest to jerk away from his father.

Why was he doing this? Dean had done nothing but try to make things easier for John. but this, this was crossing the line. Where was Sam when you needed him?

"Shhhh." John breathed out, his breath hitting Deans face directly, causing dean to gag."Don't be shy, love." John's hand sliding inside of Dean's shirt. The other one pinning Dean's hands above his head.

Right on time, Sam came right in saying, "I'm back Dean, sorry for leaving so sudde-" but he stopped as soon as he saw the scene that lay before him. John on top of Dean looking like he was having the time of his life, and Dean being held under him, face red, tears in his eyes. One second Sam was by the door, taking his running shoes off and the other he was on top of John, blinded by rage, his fists hitting anything they could touch, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Things for Sam went blank after that. Perhaps Dean had pulled him off of John and had booked another room for the night or maybe Sam had left the room, Dean right in back of him, Impala keys in his hands and he himself had rented another room. All he knew now was that he was alone with Dean in another room. Both brothers sitting across each other, each in their own bed. Sam was angry, and he could tell that so was Dean, just more afraid than Sam was at the moment. John's cries from two rooms down, very audible, almost haunting the brother. No matter how far they were, all you could hear were John"s drunken screams.  

"Can't he just shut up?'' Sam hissed, throwing his hands up in frustration. "It's been sixteen years and all he does is drink."

it had been an hour since John came home, drunk out of his head. Forty Five minutes since Sam walked in on John pinning Dean down to the bed, whispering how beautiful Mary was. And forty since anger got the better of Sam and suddenly he had John on the ground, fists colliding with his face in the matter of seconds. This hadn't been a first and Sam knew that all by looking at Dean's face. Dean was twenty, but he still couldn't stand up to his father. In his opinion, it was better to shut up and let things happen. It was the least he could do for his hurt father. He was hurt, and so was Dean.

"Don't be that hard on him Sammy, he lost the love of his life," Dean said, looking down at his still shaking clenched fists. He couldn't believe that John had gone too far this time. It had happened before, but not like this. It was usually a lingering touch or look. Never had he been pinned down like that. Never.

Sam scoffed, not believing how dean could defend John even after everything that man had put them through. He said, " We should just leave. Come on, Dean, we can make it out there ourselves. Just you and me."

Dean's head jerked up. He had to admit, he's thought about it before too. "Sammy, I thought you were smarter than that. We can't just up and leave," he said, shaking his head slowly.

Sam interrupted, "But we can Dean! We can take the impala and just drive where the road brings us. We can't stay here with dad and you know it. Things are getting bad. He's getting worse."

Sam was right. They had to go. They needed to leave, and now. It was the right time. But Dean couldn't just take Sam to another motel to sleep in another bed and to wake up to another ugly wallpaper pattern. They needed a real home to go to. And Dean knew just where to go.

"Fine," he said, Determination strong in his voice. "Let's go."

Sam's smile was something Dean had always loved. It was a sign that good things were to come. Because, despite John's comments, Sammy was a miracle- he was Dean's rock and both brothers knew it. Everything about Sammy gave Dean hope- and that's all he needed now. "Let's go," he whispered to himself for reassurance trying to keep his face straight. He was finally going to be able to escape John. He was going to be free. Shakily grabbing his baby's keys, he got up, walking towards the door, Sam fallowing afoot, getting in the car, he said "let's go."

1,569 words
1-2-17