Title: Wake-Up Call
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN. All recognizable characters and situations belong to their respective owners and I make no profit off them.
Prompt: Week 8 Self-Gratification
Word Count: 1072
Characters: John, Joyce, Mini Buffy
Spoilers: SPN preseries, BtVS preseries
Summary: John Winchester has to meet with a social worker. Joyce Summers hadn’t always owned a gallery.
A/N: Entry #2 for this weeks challenge. I am going for five so bear with me people. This one is another NOT SEXUAL one for everyone. This one features John (like that’s a surprise).
John Winchester liked to indulge, in alcohol, in women, in violence. He was a selfish bastard and he knew it.
Hell he was proud of it.
After Mary had died he had packed up the boys and hadn’t stopped moving. He was their father and he was the only parent they had left and he wouldn’t let the good folks at Child Services tell him that teaching a 6 year old how to shoot and load a rifle was wrong.
He was proud that his boy was able to accomplish at 6 what most men learned to do in their 30s. Dean was a damn good Hunter and Sammy was following in his older brothers footsteps.
John was proud of both his boys and he would raise him how he saw damn fit. If he wanted them to hunt then they would hunt.
“Lets get this over with.” He bit out sharply as he stepped into the room ignoring the chair the woman obviously expected him to sit in. He stood straight arms crossed and eyes boring into the social worker.
Joyce Summers looked at her latest assignment and tried not to wince. In her line of work she was used to dealing with irate parents and John Winchester was as irate as they came. Child Protective Services was looking into the Winchester family. John Winchester was a single father widowed five years ago when his wife died in a house fire, he had taken his children and hadn’t stopped moving.
The latest school the Winchester boys were enrolled in had contacted them when the youngest had shown his class the proper way to handle a rifle on a toy one of the boys had brought.
That was after the oldest had been found carving symbols into his little brother’s classroom doorframe.
“Mr. Winchester.” Joyce rose trying to put them on a level playing field folding her hands in front of her to hide her nervousness “We have had several concerning reports about your two sons.” She looked at him expectantly knowing she had to tread carefully.
Some parents were calm and understanding while others would blow up at you if you suggested that they were doing something wrong.
“Mrs. Summers,” John said softly visibly relaxing in front of her “My wife died a while back and I’m all they have. I’ve tried to raise those boys right but it’s been hard and I apologize if they get a bit rowdy.”
Joyce smiled not buying a word “I understand Mr. Winchester but that’s not the problem, al boys are rowdy yours are brilliant.”
Seeing that she had gotten the effect she wanted Joyce squared her shoulders “What else can you call a six year old you knows the safety procedures for dealing with guns or a ten year old that can translate ancient Sumerian symbols for his art project.” Seeing the confusion that her words created in the man before her Joyce continued, “A meeting was requested because we are concerned that the boys aren’t getting enough attention from you.” And with that she knew she had set him back on the defensive.
John’s eyes narrowed at the woman and his fist clenched. How he raised his children was his business. “Mrs. Summers,” he began softly a dangerous note to his voice “who are you to tell me if I am spending enough time with my children?” He hunted, often it took him away from home days on end but he tried to be there when Dean and Sam needed him.
So he wasn’t with them every hour, he didn’t help them with their homework, he didn’t make them breakfast every morning before school. He had taught them how to take care of himself, he had taught Dean how to take of them.
Joyce sighed her eyes softening “Because I am the one who sees them every day after school. The school asked for me specifically because your children spend more time at my house then at your own.” Before he could take offense again Joyce offered “I don’t have a problem with them, their sweet boys and my daughters love having them there, the next time that Dean has a play or Sam a game I just want to see you there.”
John didn’t even know that. He didn’t know Dean acted and was in plays. He didn’t know Sam played any sport. When he asked the boys about school Sam would go on and on about classes and Dean would shrug it off. “What does Sammy play?” John asked softly.
“Soccer, he’s good, clumsy, but good.” Joyce told him in sympathy.
John nodded, of course he was. He was a Hunter and had the training to be the best.
John was selfish and he was missing out on his son’s lives. How had it gotten to the point where his boys didn’t even bother to tell him what was going on their lives? How did it come to the point where they thought he didn’t even care?
“Mom.” A little girl with a mop of tawny hair pushed her way into the room sparring John a quick glance then turning back to her mother “Me and Dean are going to the movies.”
Joyce gave her daughter a loving smile “Why don’t you ask his father?”
The little girl turned to look up at him quizzically “So your Dean’s dad?” John nodded and she smiled brightly “I’m Buffy, Dean’s my boyfriend.” She told him proudly then asked excitedly “Do were wolves really exist cause Sammy said you shot one once and they helped you burn the body.”
John turned to Joyce “Children these days.” A nervous smile slipping onto his face, he was going to have a talk with his boys about telling others stories of Hunting and why Daddy was a little selfish.