Chapter Eighteen: John
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Smut occurs in later chapters. Disclaimer:
Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.
Chapter Eighteen: John
“What the hell were you thinking?” John looked down at his two sons, the fear and worry he’d felt when he’d come home and found them missing quickly replaced with anger. While it wasn’t unusual for Dean to sneak out for a few hours, or come stumbling through the door in the morning, Sammy rarely went out and was always in bed by dawn. The last time he hadn’t been there was the time he ran away. It had been the longest two weeks of John’s life.
“I’m sorry, sir,” his oldest son said.
“Dean, you’re supposed to be protecting your brother.” He scanned the boys’ appearance, noting the dark circles under Sam’s eyes and Dean’s missing shirt. “And you leave him with a couple of strangers so you could - what? - get a quick fuck?”
“I’m sixteen,” said Sam, rising to his full height and looking much younger for his petulance. “I don’t need a freaking babysitter.”
“Sit down.” The boy obeyed, taking a seat on the bed. John turned to his other son. “I told you that where he goes you go. We still don’t have enough intel on this town to know if it’s safe.”
“I trust the people that I left him with,” said Dean. “We made sure the entryways were salted and secure.”
“You trust them?” This surprised him. He’d taught his boys to be vigilant and wary, and Dean was sometimes overly cautious when it came to his little brother. He’d known these people for one day, two at the most. “Are they hunters?”
Sammy straightened up and started to speak, but Dean quickly cut him off. “Nah, still teenagers. Just a little more observant than the rest of this town. They realize that something’s not right and have been trying to get a handle on it. Not a lot in the way of training, but they’re resourceful for their age.” He furrowed his brow, piecing together all the information he’d learned about the group, part of the debriefing process John had taught his sons, and something that he should have prepared beforehand. “Xander has some military experience and is a crack shot. Willow’s studying the occult. Just theoretical. I haven’t seen her cast a spell or use a hex bag.”
“Yeah, you mentioned she’s ‘bookish’.” John noticed that his son failed to mention the other member of the group, the whole reason Sam had been intent on meeting up with them in the first place. “So where does that other girl – Buffy? – fit in with all this?”
“With a name like that, where do you think?” His mouth twisted into a sneer, but his eyes refused to meet his father’s. And Sam was glaring a hole in his brother’s head. As an afterthought, or maybe to ease his discomfort, Dean dropped his sneer and added, “Sir.”
“So you left Sammy with a bunch of amateurs?” Maybe it was a lie; maybe it wasn’t. It hardly mattered. If Sam got hurt, the one who would be affected the most was Dean. John knew that without a doubt, so these teenagers had to be competent enough to keep Sam safe. “Fine. You teach them what you can so that they don’t get themselves killed. But you boys are back at the motel at night. And you train in the mornings. Sprints, sparring, and weapons.”
“Yes, sir,” said Dean.
“But Da-ad.” John bit back a smile as Sam whined. Yup, everything was back to normal. He played his part and glared at his son until the boy uttered, “Yes, sir.”
“Did you at least find out anything useful from your night out?” John asked.
“The mayor was a sorcerer who sold his soul to become a demon,” said Dean. “The gang figured it out and set a trap for him at the school, which required a large amount of explosives.”
“They didn’t exorcise the demon?” John had only seen demon possession a few times in his sixteen years of hunting, but he did know that destroying the body wouldn’t prevent the demon from possessing another one.
“And you said it was the mayor?” He glanced over at Sam, who had been suspiciously quiet during the conversation. He was still sitting on the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, eyes closed.
“Yes, sir.” John wondered how much longer it had taken him than Dean, who had already noticed that his brother had fallen asleep and lowered his voice accordingly. “The others said they saw him change. He was reported as one of the people who died that day, but no body was found. Since he was at the center of the blast, he didn’t leave much evidence.”
“What about the school librarian? Did they mention anything about him?” Going off of Sam’s clue about the library, John had dug deeper into the school records and found that the librarian had flown all the way from Britain for the job. He’d also been hired about three years ago, which coincided with the spike in deaths and missing persons reports.
“No, sir. But we have information about another case,” Dean added, hesitantly.
“Have you heard of the Gem of Omar?”
“Amarra,” said Sam, indicating that he wasn’t fully asleep.
“Geek.” Dean smiled and shook his head. “It’s supposedly a sacred object to vampires.”
“Vampires? They’re damn near extinct.” His son sent him a pointed look. He was right, of course. “Near extinct” wasn’t the same thing as “extinct”, and hunters couldn’t afford to make those mistakes. “I’ll have Bobby look into it.”
He dismissed the boys with a nod of his head. Dean jumped in the shower first, giving Sammy a few more minutes to rest. After Sam finished washing up and getting dressed, John took the keys for the Impala from Dean and ordered them inside the car. He’d meant it when he told them they’d be training in the mornings. He drove to a nearby forest and parked near a nice, tall hill. While the boys ran up and down it, he pulled out his phone and called Bobby.
“If you’re calling to complain about the boys, you can just hang up now,” said Bobby. The man was never one for pleasantries.
“This little experiment of yours is done, Bobby.” John wasn’t quite sure why he’d agreed to Bobby’s suggestion in the first place. Yeah, Sam was starting to get unmanageable, but Dean did his best to keep him in line. Now he was worrying about Dean, too. “I can’t have them making stupid teenager mistakes.”
“Oh, yeah? What’d they do that was so bad?”
“Dean left Sam with a couple of strangers so he could get laid.”
“Well, good for him,” Bobby said with a chuckle. “And I’ll bet Sammy doesn’t have a scratch on him.”
“That’s not the point.” Bobby’s chuckle turned into a hoot of laughter. This conversation wasn’t improving John’s sour mood. “Next time, remind me to take parenting advice from someone who actually has children.”
“Just because they ain’t mine, doesn’t mean I love ‘em any less.” The laughter was gone and there was a fierceness in his voice. John could appreciate the man’s feelings, but his boys were his
boys. “You keep pushing them the way you do—”
“I need you to find out what you can about a man named Rupert Giles. He’s from England.” Arguing with Bobby about the boys wasn’t going to get them anywhere. And there was a job to do. “Bunch of strange shit started going down after he came here.”
“Rupert Giles. Got it.” He’d expected nothing less than Bobby’s curt response.
“And the boys wanted me to ask you about something called the Gem of Amarra. A-M-A-R-R-A. Something to do with vampires.”
“Vampires, huh? I’ll talk to Elkins.” The boys’ request seemed to soften him a little, because he’d lost the formal tone. “Gettin’ more reports of them these days. Remember that guy I used to run with? Turner?”
“What about him?”
“His nephew Charlie is down in L.A. trying to turn the neighborhood gang into some sort of demon-hunting crew. Asked if I knew someone willing to help train the boys.”
John sighed. Why did it have to be Los Angeles? He hated big cities with their crowds and lights and noises. He’d always wanted to live in a quiet, peaceful town, like the one where he’d grown up. The same town he’d left behind when Mary died. “I guess we could check it out for a few days and come back when you’ve got something.”
“Might want to leave them in Sunnydale, John. Way I remember him, Charlie and Dean’ll be at each other’s throats before too long.”
“My son follows my
“That he does. He’s also a cocky son-of-a-bitch who ain’t above taking potshots at a crew of amateurs.” Bobby was right. And he knew Sam and Dean better than anyone who wasn’t a Winchester. Hell, maybe he knew all of them pretty well, because he added, “They’ll be fine. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve left them on their own.”
“Never in a town with a death rate as high as this one’s,” John said, finally voicing his own misgivings. And Bobby, to his credit, didn’t comment on it. They both worried about those boys and wanted to keep them safe. Bobby’s answer was to talk them through it while they played on soccer teams and went to school dances. John’s answer was to hand them a loaded .45 and teach them to aim for the head or the heart. “Besides, these new friends of his are a bunch of amateur hunters, too.”
“Yeah, well, Dean chose them. You’d be forcing
him to work with Charlie Gunn.” Bobby sighed, and John could picture him leaning back in his chair, surrounded by books and papers. “You know he would never do anything to put Sammy in danger. They must be some trustworthy and fairly competent folk for him to leave his little brother in their care.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“They aren’t little boys anymore, John. You keep ‘em locked down, they’re gonna find a way out. Never seen a lock those boys can’t pick.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “So, you’ll go down to L.A.?”
“Fine, I’ll go. Alone.” He knew Dean would follow his orders. They wouldn’t leave the motel at night, and they would train every morning. And maybe when John got back, Sam would stop hating him so much. “I’ll tell the boys you say ‘hi’.”
John called his sons down from the top of the hill and handed each of them a bottle of water. When they’d regained their breath, he had them spar, practicing their holds and defensive moves. He’d taught them what he could remember from his high school wrestling days and some moves he’d picked up in the Marines.
It didn’t take long to see that Sam wasn’t holding back. He looked like he really wanted to hurt his brother. Dean, being older, heavier, and more experienced, was able to deflect or side-step most of the blows. But Sam was fueled by anger and if he had a few more years, he’d be able to best Dean. John silently prayed that it would never come down to that.
Next up Chapter 19: Sam
Time to air out some dirty laundry.