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Saturday, February 16, 2013

Snippets One Hundred Forty-One: Repercussions

Dean spent the next two weeks worrying about John’s return.    The boy knew his Dad was going to be angry, and he deserved whatever the man decided for punishment.  He winced when it crossed his mind. 

        Sam was nervous and quiet.  His big brother felt guilty for being the cause of the boy’s fears.  The younger boy didn’t understand that Dean was the one who would take the punishment.  John would be angry, but Sammy would be safe.  Dean would protect him.  He always would.

        Castiel watched the older brother with concern.  Dean was not eating and sleep was difficult for the boy.  No one should be that afraid of their parent.  The angel was angry, but was not sure what he would be allowed to do.  It was his job to guard and protect the older boy.  He wanted to do his job and do it well.

        Late one evening, the sound of the Impala’s engine could be heard and both boys stared at the door.  John Winchester entered the house.  The older boy rose to his feet when he smelled the alcohol.  Their Father had been drinking heavily. 

        Dean walked towards his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder.

        “Go to bed, Sam,” the teen told the boy, softly.

        The younger boy looked up at the brother and shook his head, “No,” he responded.

        Dean looked down into his brother’s eyes.  “I said go to bed, Sammy.  I can’t take care of both of us right now.  You gotta go.  Please, Sammy.”

        There was a tremor in the older boy’s voice and the younger one recognized the fear in it.  He looked at their Dad and remembered how his brother had looked after Flagstaff.  Sam turned and walked towards their bedroom.

        Castiel stood in the corner of the room and watched.  He had made a decision.

        Dean went to his father.  “Here, Dad, let me help you.  Have you eaten?”

        “Where are the fireworks, Dean?”

        “We shot them off, Dad.  You had a hunt, so Sammy and I celebrated the Fourth of July alone.”  

        “I didn’t tell you to shoot those off.  How’d you get out of town.”

        “I hot-wired a car, Dad.  We drove out of town.”

        “Did you cause that damn fire?  It ruined a man’s entire hay crop.  You boys could’ve been in bad trouble.  I would not have been able to get you out of it.”   

        Dean looked at the blood shot eyes and could hear the whiskey talking through his Father’s drunken voice.

        “I’m sorry, Dad. I won’t disobey you again.  I promise,” the boy spoke respectfully.

        The older Winchester slapped the boy, leaving a large red welt on the left cheekbone.  Dean stepped back, regaining his balance.

        “I can’t trust you do anything right.  I’m so damn tired of cleaning up your messes, Boy!”

        “What messes?”

        John’s fist came up but never moved any further.  An unseen hand grasped the fist and squeezed.  The older man screamed and went to his knees.  Dean’s eyes opened wide as he watched his Father writhe on the floor.


        Neither Winchester saw the angel as he squeezed on the man’s fist.
Castiel finally let go and whispered into the older Winchester’s ear, “Never lay a hand on the boy again.  The next time, I will break something.”

        In his drunken state, John heard the whisper but wasn’t sure it was real.  The pain in his fist was real, and that was enough.

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