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It was a quiet and tension filled dinner, just like it always was whenever the eldest of the Winchester clan decided to stick around. The only sound to be heard was that of plastic cutlery scraping against cheap crockery and four males harshly swallowing the non-appetizing food provided by the sleazy one-star motel in which they chose to reside that week.
The three sons did nothing to interrupt the silence. The eldest of the brothers, eighteen year old Dean, was focusing all his attention on his food, making sure his forest green orbs remained on his plate rather than on his equally uncomfortable family members.
Awkward and lanky fourteen year old Sam, the youngest, was grimacing at the harsh looks his father was giving his sixteen year old brother who was acting oblivious to the lethal glares he was receiving. The young boy's frost colored eyes zeroed in on his older brother's curled fists before he sank deeper into his seat, saddened at how the dinner he had hoped would be a time of bonding was anything but.
Nathaniel Winchester was slightly rigid, biting his tongue, trying not to lash out. He was also trying to destroy his taste buds, hoping to ride himself of the ghastly flavor of the meal he had no choice but to eat. His normally soft and curious baby blues were hard and void of emotion. It seemed that the mere presence of John Winchester always turned his normally care free aura into one of distress.
Nate didn't always hate his dad. In fact, there may have been a time where he considered his father a loved one. It was during the very short period where he considered himself an innocent child—the day of his birth up until John gifted him a rifle on his fifth birthday—that young Nathaniel shamelessly viewed John Winchester as a father. When Nate turned seven, and realized he wasn't like the other kids who went fishing or played cards with their dads, he came to the conclusion that his father robbed him of his childhood. And that was when the resentment began; after a young Nathaniel realized John Winchester was more of an army general to him than a dad.
The boy was bred a soldier, having had to wake up at the crack of dawn to train with no breaks and his extracurriculars consisting of him hunting down whatever creature his father assigned him. He would spend his days killing mercilessly and only be allowed back inside the motel room when he completed his 'mission'. John was in the marines and so he had a few training techniques up his sleeves, some...harsher than others.
The man even attempted to brainwash Nate into believing that what he was doing was right; that killing the things that went bump in the night ensured the safety of innocents. His wordsnever seemed to matter to the boy for every night, after talking to the angels his brother promised were looking out for him, Nate would go to sleep with a weight on his chest and guilt in his stomach.
