Post by Dean Winchester on Oct 7, 2014 9:31:35 GMT -5
"It shouldn't."
While Sam may have been answerless, John was not. He stepped further out of the shadows where he had been observing his boys for an unnoticed minute. "You did a good job back there Dean" he continued. "Me and Sam...we can get pretty obsessed and focused on revenge but you...you've always looked out for this family before anything else." Dean wished he could feel good about the compliment but something felt wrong here. He just wasn't sure what it was. Trying to figure it out, he posed a question that he already knew the answer to. "So you're not mad at me? For wasting a bullet?" John shook his head with an admiring smile. "I'm not mad at you Dean. I'm proud of you." Dean's lips twitched, trying to smile. "Thanks."
Before another word could be uttered by anyone, the lights began flickering. John moved to the window and peered out into the gloomy darkness. "It's here. It found us. Sam, salt lines on all windows and doors." "Already done." "Check them" John insisted before turning on Dean and holding out one hand. "The colt Dean. Give it to me." This just heightened Dean's already high suspicions. He pulled the gun from an inner jacket pocket and held it slack in one hand, looking from it to his father slowly. "Give me the gun" John repeated. "He wouldn't be proud." Dean's voice was low. John looked baffled. "What?" "He wouldn't be proud that I wasted a bullet. He would be furious. He would tear me a new one" Dean elaborated, cocking the gun and pointing it at John's heart.
"You're not my father."
While Sam may have been answerless, John was not. He stepped further out of the shadows where he had been observing his boys for an unnoticed minute. "You did a good job back there Dean" he continued. "Me and Sam...we can get pretty obsessed and focused on revenge but you...you've always looked out for this family before anything else." Dean wished he could feel good about the compliment but something felt wrong here. He just wasn't sure what it was. Trying to figure it out, he posed a question that he already knew the answer to. "So you're not mad at me? For wasting a bullet?" John shook his head with an admiring smile. "I'm not mad at you Dean. I'm proud of you." Dean's lips twitched, trying to smile. "Thanks."
Before another word could be uttered by anyone, the lights began flickering. John moved to the window and peered out into the gloomy darkness. "It's here. It found us. Sam, salt lines on all windows and doors." "Already done." "Check them" John insisted before turning on Dean and holding out one hand. "The colt Dean. Give it to me." This just heightened Dean's already high suspicions. He pulled the gun from an inner jacket pocket and held it slack in one hand, looking from it to his father slowly. "Give me the gun" John repeated. "He wouldn't be proud." Dean's voice was low. John looked baffled. "What?" "He wouldn't be proud that I wasted a bullet. He would be furious. He would tear me a new one" Dean elaborated, cocking the gun and pointing it at John's heart.
"You're not my father."
