Not on my watch

3. The fault

Whip, whip
Run me like a racehorse
Pull me like a ripcord
Break me down and build me up

(Whatever it takes, Imagine Dragons)

As promised, John was waiting for him in the living room. He was sitting on his armchair - Dean and Sam always got the sofa for themselves, when they were watching TV altogether -, but in a deliberately uncomfortable position, as if he was about to stand up. With his elbows on his knees, interlaced fingers and his lips pressed on them as if in prayer, he didn't move a muscle when Dean appeared on the doorstep. But he turned his military scowl to him and the boy instinctively lifted up his chin and straightened his back.

- If I understood at least a part of the events of tonight, I guess you must be as wasted as your brother - the man began, and he was the ostensible emblem of calm. - But I need to know now what the hell happened and first I want to hear it from you, given Sam's state.

- Yes, sir - Dean nodded.

- Then I can think about it tonight. And tomorrow I'm going to listen to what your brother has to say about it before figuring out what I'm supposed to do with the two of you.

- Yes, sir - Dean repeated, swallowing a moment before breaking the promise he had made Sam. - It was my fault.

- Look into my eyes when addressing me, boy - he demanded, and Dean obeyed instantly, sensing the vibrant note of his reprimand. - Why are you telling me it was your fault?

His father wasn't trying to encourage him. He was simply digging to achieve the truth.

- I was on watch. You had left the house and rules administration and Sam's safety in my hands - Dean summed up. - It seems obvious to me that I failed at keeping Sam safe, like you could see, so the blame is on me. It happened on my watch.

John Winchester allowed himself a long and deep breath before replying and Dean started to feel his sweat wet the palm of his hand which was holding the other behind his back. He hated those waits more than any other moment of the relationship with his father.

- On one hand I'm glad you are willing to take your responsibility without hesitation - the man stated. - But you have always been like this, haven't you? On the other hand, your attempt to hide your brother's with equal ease upsets me.

- I'm not trying to...

- Don't. Interrupt. Me - his father made him freeze, while his knuckles whitened in warning.

Dean got a lump in his throat. - I apologize, sir.

- Your brother is sixteen. He is going to take the blame he's entitled to and face the consequences - Regardless of Dean's disorientation, the man went on: - And now tell me the facts. And be very careful, Dean. You know I can understand when you're lying.

- Yeah - the boy exhaled, helpless.

He took a moment to clear his voice, to consider how to set the story so that Sam could come clean, but he soon understood that there was no way he could win. His father wouldn't have taken his eyes off him and would have kept Dean there, standing, until he was sure that every single word coming out of his mouth matched what had really happened.

- We had dinner early, around seven thirty. Then I started washing the dishes while Sam was doing his homework here in the living room. After that, I went straight to the shower. I can't say I remember checking on Sam before going to the bathroom.

- Go on - John nodded, focused.

- Only after I got dressed I understood he had disappeared. I called him to ask what he wanted to watch on TV and realized there was no trace of him in the whole house - Dean complied, feeling sick when the memory of that inner emptiness came back to struck him once again. For an instant he had been unable to move or just formulate a useful thought. - But there was no sign of a struggle and his keys and his shoes were missing. I ran outside and while I took the Impala out of the courtyard I strove to remember his friends' addresses.