John Winchester (spendsitonammo) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2011-01-03 13:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | john winchester |
Who: John and Dean
What: Conflict in the panic room.
When: TODAY!
Where: Bobby's place.
Warnings: WV. Winchester Violence. Drama, angst, raaaage.
After picking up Ruby and letting Mary get a few things together while he waited in the truck, John headed off to Bobby's. He wasn't sure what was in store for him when he got there so he was apprehensive. He barely said a few words on the car ride up and didn't bother to put in his usual music for the sake of atmosphere. He just wasn't in the mood. He felt like a failure as a parent, and as a hunter. In general. Tension hovered around him so thickly it was almost like it was thick enough to be touched. But the look on his face blocked any kind of real communication. He wasn't the type to have a long discussion about his feelings and what they were on a regular basis. Dean acting the way he was, only added onto the pressure of years of pent up emotion.
When the truck finally roared to a stop and the engine died, he climbed out of the driver side and left his wife and Ruby to their own devices. John Winchester had a one track mind, and when that mind was made up there would be no standing in his way. His main and only focus was on Dean, what Dean needed in that moment. He needed the sense knocked into him and if Sammy couldn't do it then he would. John had never physically fought with Dean before, but if it came down too it he was prepared. He wouldn't like it, but the way Dean was acting toward the rest of the family he wouldn't be surprised. There was only a vague greeting to Sam and a glance over him to make sure he wasn't too badly physically harmed before he demanded to be let into the panic room.
When he finally was let inside, the door was locked tight behind him. Every member of his family had died once, some had died twice. Dean was headed down that road again the way he was reacting to things, and it disturbed John so much that all he did was stare at his oldest son once inside the barely lit room. He was silent while he tried to figure out what to say at him. He was certain Dean had been hearing lectures from all over the fence since he'd been thrown into the almost jail like room to dry out in.
"Dean..Are you done yet?" He asked blandly. It was a question that could have been answered a few dozen different ways, and John didn't emphasize on either level.