(no subject)

[family_remains]

Who: Sam and John Winchester
When: 4/24 - Midday
Where: John's place
Warnings: Winchesters



Things hadn't been easy lately. Which, in truth, was one of the largest understatements in Sam's life ever, but it was still worth saying. things had been particularly unbearable for the last two years.. one in the city and the year and change proceeding it. The thing about huge messes, is that they can always, usually, be cleaned up. It might take forever, and the floor might always have a little stain, but things can usually be patched back into normalcy. Today was one of those patching days. Which seemed like all Sam had been doing lately but hey. He had screwed up a whole lotta nope.

He was fairly certain that he'd mad some good progress with Mary, and he and Castiel were back to being pretty close. There was no Dean problems to speak of at the moment besides that general hovering air of disappointment that Winchesters can manifest so well. There was only one person left to talk to. and Sam couldn't say he wasn't a little green in the gills over it. John Winchester was one of the toughest, no shits given, hunters ever. And growing up with that had been, well, difficult. They were family and they loved each other, but a lot had happened since John's death and having his parents back, and not only back but alive and at each other's throats, was also really hard. He'd plucked up the balls to finally contact John and when that ended, more or less, in a broken phone, he knew to give it a little while. This wasn't going to be an easy day, but there was something to be said for being persistent.

And coming clean about a lot of things.

Sam wasn't sure how much his dad knew about what had happened the last few years. He wasn't sure if Chuck had told him everything or let him read those stupid books, or if he and Dean had sat down for a pow wow to get everything ironed out. Sam had just full on word vomited all over Mary to explain what had happened... John should have the same chance. Lucky him.

But still, there he was. Standing awkwardly outside John's door. Sam took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, hoping they could talk.

Hoping this wouldn't end with The Colt in his face.

Comments

[failedparenting]

It hasn't been a great few weeks, worse than most. Mary's amnesia and the separation papers (still neatly stacked, shoved behind a box in his closet where he can pretend they don't exist) are the worst of his problems, but then there's the fact that he just turned 53.

Fucking 53. He's old, almost as old as his dad when he died. Old enough to be Mary's dad. Old enough that he can't read things anymore without being right up on it (no glasses, though, that's giving up). Most hunters don't live this long though, he should consider himself lucky. But he didn't live this long, did he? He's dead back home, salted and burned and six feet under.

Then there's the problem he's pushed to the back of his mind for entirely too long, the boys. It's almost funny, he thinks, how easily they slipped back into the roles they had on the road, in this place. Dean, the good son. The one who always listens to his father and does what's asked of him. Sam, the rebel. The disappointment.

No, not a disappointment, not at home anyway. That was all John's fault. Any parent should be proud that their child got a free ride to a top school, John was just scared.

In this city, though, he is a disappointment. He's a monster now, really, the kind they'd kill back home. It baffles John that after all those years, Sam could go so bad so fast. He raised him better than that, he knows. It's not his fault this time.

John's still half asleep when he hears the knock at his front door. For a moment he considers rolling back over and letting them stand there, but there's no way he's getting back to sleep now. He chances a look at the clock as he stumbles around for clothes (noon, Jesus Christ, he needs to get more sleep), then shuffles his way to open the door.

[family_remains]

Funny how things can change you, isn't it. How one catastrophic event can literally change you into something you can't recognize. And how that person then begins a journey without your consent - making shitty decision after shitty decision because they are so blind with need (whether it be revenge for a lost loved one or to right a terrible wrong) that they can't see where they're going or who they're hurting to get there.

But then John wouldn't know anything about that, would he.

Nor would he know anything about the tremendous uphill struggle for redemption. That very struggle being what has placed his second youngest son on his doorstep, nervously shifting from foot to foot. He nearly gives up and leaves and just as he moves to go the door knob turns. Well, too late to run.

"Hi, Dad.."

[failedparenting]

Of all the people that could be knocking on his door Wednesday afternoon, of course it's Sam. Of course it is, the kid never does what you'd expect him to anyway. John knows he shouldn't be surprised.

"How the hell did you find this address? Did Dean give it to you?"

John scrubs a hand over his face, trying desperately to wake up. Dean's in a world of trouble if he's been giving out his address. There's a reason he only gave it out to a hand full of people. Not even Mary knows where he is now, and he likes it like that.

God, he can't deal with this now. He's not even completely awake and he hasn't had his coffee, there's no way he's up to approaching this in an adult manner.

[family_remains]

Not exactly the response Sam was looking for but it could have been worse. He deflates a little, lips pursing.

"I spent a year tracking you across America. This is a small city.."

Simple but straight to the point. And, let's be fair here, John could be a creature of habit.

[failedparenting]

Okay, so that was probably an obvious answer. Sue him, he's half asleep and getting old (ugh). And maybe a little soft from being in one place for so long, letting his guard down too much.

"Okay," he says with a shrug, "good for you. Now get going."

Maybe after coffee and food he'll feel bad about booting his son off his doorstep, but right now he just can't give a shit. John turns, and moves to close the door in Sam's face.

[family_remains]

What? Was he actually going to-

"Dad, wait-" Sam interjected, moving forward an inch but not daring to stick his foot or hand in the door. There's an instant of pure, bitter sorrow in Sam's eyes as he desperately scrambles for something - anything to say that will keep this from being it.

"Can we just..talk for a second?"

:D

[parentingfail]

John gives him a good, long look while he weighs his options. Sam fucked up, and bigger than he could ever imagine. The kind of fuck up that he'd been thinking of when he told Dean he might need to kill his brother.

On the other hand, he's here now. He seems whole and completely Sammy (though a little holy water will clear up some suspicion), not a hint of that thing he became. He has a hard time believing his son could just sober up from something like that, but...

Fuck. He'll give him one chance.

John opens the door again and wearily inclines his head toward Sam.

"Get in."