Work Text:
"The Night I Called The Old Man Out"
The dining room fell silent
I can't believe what I just said
I just told my dad he's full of it
And I watched his face turn red
And I should've said, "I'm sorry"
But I matched him shout for shout
I can still hear that screen door slammin'
The night I called him out
Dean's spoon falls from his lips and lands with a loud clunk into his bowl. Then, there's dead quiet, just like that night when we were hunting werewolves in the Wilderness of Virginia and found ourselves lost in the impenetrable forest. Dad is glowering at me; his cheeks are glowing red with rage.
I'm in trouble. What was I thinking? I can't believe what I just said. Well, in a way, I can. This has been a long time coming.
Dad has us holed up in a tacky motel in some no name town outside of Lincoln, Nebraska. We are supposed to be hunting a witch with a taste for little kids in the woods (imagine a real life Hansel and Gretel), but so far, we've come across no hard evidence of a witch's presence in this area. Once again, I've been yanked out of yet another school in the middle of senior year. So, it's understandable that I'm a little tense.
Still, I can't believe I actually said it.
The three of us were eating dinner as a family for a change. For once, Dad managed to pull himself off the case to spend time with his sons. God knows he would not have, if not for Dean. Dean has been suffering from a nasty flu that he just can't shake. High fever over 104, chills, wheezing, muscle aches, sore throat, you name it, Dean has it.
My pleas to take Dean to the hospital have fallen on deaf ears. For one thing, Dean's twenty-one, an adult, and he refuses to go. Dean's the most stubborn ass to ever walk the planet, so it shouldn't surprise me that he won't go to the hospital. And, of course, he would never admit it, even to me, but Dean is afraid of needles. I mean, I know, I know everything about him; and I've seen how much it hurts him to get a shot. So, put two and two together, and we arrive at my brother suffering needlessly for God knows how long.
Though, to be honest, I'm not mad at Dean. Fears are irrational. And, since I avoid the circus at all cost, I understand Dean doing the same with the hospital. No, the infuriating one is Dad.
Dad should be more concerned about Dean. Dad should be more worried about his sons than the strangers he saves on his hunts. But, we've never been his priority, and it has always bothered me.
And that's how it all started.
Because Dean was so sick and hadn't eaten in days, John came back to the motel that night with Chinese takeout of egg drop soup to try to coax into Dean. By coax, I mean, force, naturally. Dad was used to being obeyed without question, just like in the Marines. And Dean, he is a perfect little soldier. Me? I've always been AWOL.
Case in point…
“How're you feeling, Son?” Dad asked, scooping some of his General Tso Chicken into his mouth.
Pushing his soup around with his spoon, Dean fibbed, “I'm fine. I think I found a lead on our little witch friend…”
“Dean, you are not fine! You've got a 104 degree fever. You need to see a doctor,” I implored him, for the hundredth time this week.
“Your brother is a grown man. He can make up his own mind,” Dad interjected.
“He's obviously not making a good choice!”I protested, sounding desperate. And I was. I was desperate for my dad to be a father and protect my big brother. “Look at him, Dad!”
Dad nodded, and I thought I just might have gotten through to him.
“I'll have Bobby come out and take a look at him, maybe give him some IV fluids. That be alright, Dean?” Dad suggested. My heart sank at this insufficient solution.
“Fine, Sir,” Dean gulped, then winced from the pain in his throat. He took a small sip of soup, probably thinking if he made himself eat then maybe Bobby might skip out on the dreaded IV.
“Good, now about the case…” John went on.
“It's not good!” I interrupted, my anger growing. “C'mon, Dad, this is your son's life here! He needs more than a shot of saline!”
“Hey! I know what's best for my family!” Dad had started to yell now.
And then…
“You're so full of it,” I stated, my voice an eerie calm. “We're the only family you have and you don't know anything about us."
It's so quiet in here that I can hear the beating of my own heart. Dean's mouth falls open in shock. Dad's face flushes red as a tomato. For a minute, I wonder if I’ve caused him to have a heart attack. Anger boils up in his big brown eyes; they darken with each passing second.
I should say 'I’m sorry.’ I know I should. Dad didn't raise us to sass him. Of course, Dean doesn't mouth off to Dad. If he ever does anything that might piss Dad off even a tiny bit, he's quick to apologize.
But I'm not like Dean, not at all.
“What did you just say to me, boy?” Dad demands.
“I didn't stutter!” I retort.
“You've got no business disrespecting me under my own roof!” Dad hollers at me.
“In case you didn't notice, we're in a sex motel. We're not under your roof because you're a grown man without a roof,” I snap.
Dad's fist pounds into the table. That was a low blow. I shouldn't have gone there. Referencing the demon that murdered Mom and burned down the house, I am ashamed of it. Dad and Dean had the unimaginable misfortune of witnessing it first hand. Perhaps that's why Dad and Dean are so into hunting. It's much more personal for them than it is for me. Still, I should have kept my mouth shut.
The slamming of the screen door rattles the window panes. The noise makes us jump. I can't bring myself to look at Dean. I can't imagine how disappointed he must be in me. That's the worst pain I can experience: letting down my brother. My brother means everything to me. Dean is my brother, my best friend, and in a lot of ways, the man that really raised me.
"He said, "Son it's gonna hurt me more than it hurts you"
But somehow I couldn't help but have my doubts
'Cause I'd seen my older brothers crawl back in the house
Each time they called the old man out
Fist to fist and eye to eye
Standin' toe to toe
He would've let me walk away
But I just would not let it go
Years of my frustration
Had let me to this night
Now he'll pay for all the times that he's been right
"
This time, despite how cruel I am being to my father and brother, this time, I will not back down. I will stand up for myself, and I will accept the consequences of my actions. So, with my head held high, I follow my father outside. A few seconds later, the door claps closed again. Wrapped in one of the scratchy old motel comforters, Dean takes a seat in one of the wobbly plastic chairs outside our room.
As sick as he is, Dean still wants to be there for me. If he could, he'd volunteer to take my licking for me. Just like I got into this situation for him. For him, I will take what's coming to me.
“Go back inside, Son,” Dad mutters.
I shake my head. “No. You know I'm right, and I want you to admit it.”
“This is your last chance, boy. Go back in the room,” Dad orders.
My eyes land back on Dean. He is shivering, even though it isn't very cold. His skin has lost most of its color. As I look at him, a knot ties in my stomach. Fear. I'm afraid of what will happen to my brother.
So, I stand toe to toe with the old man. His fists are raised, but I don't dare lift mine. I would never lay a hand on my father, no matter how much he might deserve it. I'm not that foolish.
This has been a long time coming. All my life, Dad has pushed my buttons. He has sent me to hundreds of different schools. He ridicules me for applying to Stanford and dreaming of studying law. He wouldn't let me play any sports or pursue any interests not related to hunting. No matter what I do, I will never be good enough for him. I'll never please him the way Dean does.
And I just can't take it anymore.
For years, I have been dealing with these frustrations. For years, I've allowed Dad to take away everything that makes me me. But, he's not going to take Dean away from me. I won't let that happen.
“Son, it's gonna hurt me more than it hurts you,” Dad says, adjusting into an offensive posture.
Somehow, I doubt that. I'll never forget seeing Dean crawl back in the house the night he called the old man out. It was the one and only time he stood up to Dad, and I'll take it with me to my dying day.
Dean was about my age now, and I was twelve or thirteen. They were arguing about a case, what else with those two? Ordinarily, Dean never questioned Dad about anything. But, Dean had done his research on this case, and he felt certain that he was right this time. The argument escalated until they both lost their tempers. Names were called. Cross words were exchanged. Dean matched Dad shout for shout.
Since I was told to stay inside the hotel room, I watched from the window as Dad pounded Dean. At one point, I had to turn away. It was too painful to watch. If I kept looking, I would have started to scream.
When it was done, Dean pulled himself back into the room on his hands and knees. His face was bloody and bruised. A nasty shiner developed around his eye. Never before had I seen my brother beaten, at least not by a human.
And, the icing on the cake was that Dean had been right about the case. They tried it Dad's way and failed. But when they followed Dean's plan, they were able to kill the monster. Basically, Dean took a whipping for no reason.
After it was all over and we were in pursuit of a new job, I asked Dean if it was worth it. He said it was. I couldn't wrap my head around it then. In fact, I still can't understand it now. He told me I'd figure it out for myself one day.
I guess I'm about to find out if he was right about that or not.
The first blow knocks me back on my heels. An incredible pain floods my face. Blood gushes down from my nose. The second punch connects with my mouth, splitting my lip. I am struck by the metallic taste of blood in my mouth as his fist lands on my cheek. I cannot believe this. If anybody else laid their hands on me, I could knock them into next week. But my own father is beating the hell out of me, and I'm powerless to stop it.
When he delivers the final blow to my eye, I fall to my knees. The ache in my face and the blood flowing from my wounds make me dizzy. I feel helpless, like an injured animal with its foot caught in a trap. This isn't the first time I've felt like this. On a hunt, a vengeful spirit or a demon can get the jump on you in the blink of an eye. But, when that happens, I could always count on my family to have my back. Now, the people I rely on most in this world have abandoned me. That makes it all worse.
Then, I stare up at Dad.
For as long as I live, I'll never forget the heavy tears dropping from his eyes, staining his cheeks.
At some point, my glossy eyed father turns his back to me and takes off down the road, perhaps to clear his head. Stumbling, I try to make my way back to the room. But the world is spinning much too fast and I can't steady myself. With the side of my thumb, I wipe away the blood from my nose, but more just replaces it. Even on all fours, I find it difficult to get my bearings.
Always coming to my rescue, Dean kneels down beside me. We interlace our arms, and he helps me to my feet. The exertion exacerbates his symptoms, and he starts to cough. By the time we pull ourselves inside the motel room, we are both too weak and dizzy to do much else.
The coughing spell subsides after a minute or so, but it leaves my brother looking paler than freshly fallen snow. For a moment, I am so mad at Dean. None of this would be happening if he would just go to the damn doctor.
Then, Dean shivers, and my anger fades away. It wasn't Dean's fault. I have to accept the consequences of my decision.
As crazy as it sounds, part of me is happy about all of this. Tonight, I saw a side of my father I've never seen. In truth, I can't make heads or tails of it. Maybe it's because of the throbbing of my head. I don't know. But, in my mind's eye I keep seeing my dad's tear stained face.
Ever the big brother, Dean instructs me to sit down on our bed. Having had my fill of defiance for the night, I do as he asks. With one hand clutching the blanket around his body and the other holding a small tackle box, Dean saunters over and takes a seat opposite me. He opens the box: Dad's first aid kit.
First, he stops the bleeding in my nose with gauze. It's tender, but I don't complain. My thoughts are stuck on Dad. I can't shake the image of him, standing above me like a god yet showing true humanity.
Finally, I can't hold my tongue anymore. “He was crying, Dean.” Dean doesn't answer, maintaining focus on taping my swollen nose. “Dad. He was really crying.”
“You sound surprised,” Dean comments.
“And you don't.”
Dean stops what he's doing and stares me dead in my eyes. “He's our dad, Sammy. He loves us. He may not always know how to show it, but he does,” Dean asserts.
It's weird to hear my iron-man-big-brother discussing feelings in any way. Dean never gets mushy, ever. So, I decide that he must be telling the truth, and that I want to milk this for as long as I can before Dean becomes Dean again.
“He said it would hurt him more than it did me, but I didn't believe him,” I go on.
“And now?”
“Well… OW!” I hiss. Dean gives me a snarky smile as he cleans the bloody cut on my lip. I'll return the favor later, when he's fighting to stop Bobby from sticking a needle in his arm.
“Quit your bellyaching,” Dean teases, just like we always do when we patch each other up.
"It's okay. When Bobby gets here, you'll be the one crying," I jest with a grin. Dean glares at me.
“Ahem!” A throat clears, capturing our attention. Dad leans against the door, watching us with a proud smile. “I'm going to investigate Dean's lead on the witch.” Dad tosses the car keys at me, and I catch them just before they smack me in the face. “Sam, I want you to take your brother to the hospital.” Dean wouldn't dare protest, but he does groan in a low voice.
Me, I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Dean will be okay. But it's more than that. Dad is listening to me. He taught me a lesson in respect, one I will never forget, but he has also shown that he values us and our opinions.
Studying my father, I finally understand what Dean meant when he said it was worth it to him to stand up to Dad and take the whipping. The greatest pain was always Dad's. And I keep hearing Dean's words in my mind. He's our dad, Sammy. He loves us. He may not always know how to show it, but he does. Since Dean is as emotionally challenged as Dad, that means a lot, and I know it must be true.
All our lives, Dean has idolized Dad and dreamed of being just like him. And in a lot of ways, they are just the same. I have always wanted to be different and escape our family and try to be normal. And I do hope for that.
Still, I pray that someday I'll become half the man John Winchester is.
"He said, "Son it's gonna hurt me more than it hurts you"
But somehow I couldn't help but have my doubts
'Cause I'd seen my older brothers crawl back in the house
Each time they called the old man out
It was over in a minute
That's when I realized
The blood came from my mouth and nose
But the tears came from his eyes
And in memory of that fateful night
I know the greatest pain was his
And I just pray some day I'm half the man he is
He said, "Son it's gonna hurt me more than it hurts you"
But somehow I couldn't help but have my doubts
'Cause I'd seen my older brothers crawl back in the house
Each time they called the old man out
Just like my older brothers
I crawled back in the house
The night I called the old man out
Garth Brooks