Trigger warning: Implied/referenced child abuse/sexual abuse. Nothing explicit.

John tried not to think about the sleeping child in the bed just a few feet away from him, taking a deep breath and staring at the wall instead.

He had not intended for it to happen like this, it was just another hunt that he was teaming up with another hunter for. A classic wendigo case that required a bit more than a single hunter.

He never expected the hunter to bring his six year old child with him.

He also never expected to even think or even have the thought enter his mind in this life or the next that the man would offer his own son to John as a payment of thanks for helping him with the hunt.

It did take John a few moments to understand what the man was offering but once he did, he felt sick to his stomach and wanted to throw the man to the wendigo to be eaten himself.

At that moment he knew that the other man, if he could be called that, wasn't going to leave this hunt alive. One way or another only John was going to come back from this.

He did watch the child, Dean the man said his name was, and felt his heart twist at each and every flinch that the kid had from the simplest of movements. If anything the other man seemed to enjoy the terror that Dean was feeling every time his movements got a bit too fast or his voice raised just a bit more.

John tried to tell himself that he isn't enjoying it but watching the wendigos body burn and then bringing his gun up and shooting the man pointblank in the middle of his forehead, he couldn't help but feel a bit satisfaction at that.

But ultimately, that left the burden of what to do with the kid on John. he couldn't leave him, he was already in too deep by doing what he did, regardless of how much it felt like cleaning up the gene pool just a little bit.

Once John had come back to the motel where Dean had been waiting for him, and had come back alone, Dean knew that his biological father had died and despite everything, he burst into tears.

Better the devil you knew than the devil you didn't after all.

John had tried to comfort him and assure him, tried everything he could to make him feel better even a little bit. And later, once it was getting closer to going to sleep…

Dean had come to him, tugging at Johns clothes and whispering to him, saying that he could be a good boy, could be whatever John wanted from him, and was trying to take his own clothes off as well.

It took everything John had not to tear up, or at the very least throw up at what Dean was insinuating, assuring Dean that there was nothing that he wanted and just for Dean to go to sleep.

So he tucked the kid into the bed and stayed by his side until he fell asleep, leaving John to his thoughts and thinking about what he should do.

He couldn't just leave him to be taken by police and the CPS, he had no idea what kind of a foster home or adopted parents would get their hands on him and if they showed the barest hint of wanting the same thing his biological father wanted…

He wouldn't have a chance at all at life.

Breathing out slowly he finally turned his head to look at the boy once more, feeling a pang in his chest. He was six years old, almost the same age that….

John took a deep breath and rubbed at his face for a moment before he came to a decisions.

The next day John got them breakfast, checked them out, and drove to BObby's house. Dean was fascinated by the dog tied outside and spent his time with it while John spoke to Bobby.

The older hunter wasn't pleased about it but once John explained everything, he was more than approving of what he had done, less so about what he wanted to do.

"You want to adopt the kid?" Bobby repeated. "John, you're not really the best at staying in one place and kids need some sort of grounding factor."

"He knows me, just a bit more than the others." John said. "Kid deserves a chance and we both know that he's not going to get it in the system."

Bobby sighed and glanced out the window where he could see Dean wrestling with the dog, laughing softly. "You sure about this?"

John looked outside as well and felt something inside of him warm at the sight, paternal feelings that he had thought he had buried down deep resurfacing.

"Yeah I'm sure." he said softly.

So with a stroke of pen on paper and a signed certificate, Dean became Dean Winchester and John's son.

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