Did their dad always look so old?

Dean swallowed hard, masking the move with a swallow of his beer. Sam had been bandaged and placed into bed with a dose of painkillers, he had stayed by his brothers side the entire time until he had fallen asleep and even then had waited a while longer to make sure he didn't wake up.

Once he was sure of his brother Dean had rejoined their father in the main room of the bunker. John had been at the laptop Dean had given him and was trying to look things up. He looked up when Dean came in.

"How is he?" John asked. "I wanted to join you boys but...I didn't think it was a good idea."

"Good, he's kinda still out of it." Dean said going to the refrigerator and pulling them both out a bottle. He handed one to his dad and sat down, just staring at him.

He looked old. So much older than Dean remembered and it made Deans chest tighten a bit.

Amara supposedly brought his father back from the time that he had died, he didn't age after that and he didn't recall his time in hell. For all intents and purposes Amara might have just plucked him out from the past and brought him to the future.

So why did he look so much older than he should have?

Dean always remembered their dad tall and strong and proud, confident in everything that he did and bull headed enough to bend others to his will.

He didn't remember the gray that was more prevalent in his dads hair than rich brown, he didn't remember the wrinkles around his eyes and face. He remembered their dad much taller and now it felt like Dean was the one that was towering over him.

Hunting aged the hunter, he knew that and accepted that every time he looked into the mirror lately. He was approaching forty soon and he felt every single one of those years.

Its just that...his father had looked younger. He still remembered being in that hospital bed looking up at their dad as he whispered his last words to Dean. His father had looked tired and drained but looking back now it was because he was about to go to hell.

John glanced up and met Deans eyes, drinking his own beer in silence as he just stared at his son who stared right back at him.

"You look good son." he said softly, a small sad smile on his face. "You look really good."

Dean managed a small smile of his own, nodding. "Thanks."

John glanced towards the direction of Sams room and Dean tried to push down the feeling of possessiveness inside of him.

"Is Sam going to be alright?" John asked, rolling the bottle between his hands. "Those Brits really did a number on him."

"He's tough." Dean said. "He can pull through it, just needs some time."

John had a fond smile on his face. "Yeah, he's one of the most bull headed people I knew." he said. "Is he still the same?"

Dean nodded. "Still the same." he confirmed.

John nodded once more, a small sad look appearing on his face. "What did I miss?" he asked softly. "I know its a lot just...catch me up."

Catch him up.

Did he start with when John died? Did he start with when Dean sold his soul to save Sam? Did he talk about his own time in hell? Did he start with the angels and the demons and the leviathans? Did he start with the Roadhouse and Bobby and everyone else?

"Where do I start?"

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