Sam had only been gone for three weeks but it already felt like an eternity to Dean. His departure to college wasn't a typical one. There was no going-way party or gifts. No handshake or slap on the back for a job well done. No hug good-bye not even a "see you soon". No tears; unless you count the ones Dean privately shed as he watched from behind the curtain as his whole purpose for living climbed into the taxi and drove away. That night, that painful image, was still very vivid in his mind. It had been consuming his every thought every minute of every hour of everyday for the past three weeks; just as it was now.

The bar was loud and smoky but Dean didn't care. It was paradise compared to the crappy motel room he and his father had been sharing for the past two weeks. John had told him to turn in early. He had headed out as soon as he heard the shower start.

Dean washed the lump that had started to form in his throat down with the remnants of his third beer. He tipped the empty bottle to the bartender silently indicating his desire for another.

"Make that two." The gruff, familiar voice behind him instantly broke Dean out of thoughts making him jump slightly.

"Didn't mean to startle you kid." John Winchester said sliding onto the stool beside his son. "Not good to have your guard down like that son."

Dean ignored the criticism and continued to look forward, making only brief eye contact with his father via the mirror behind the bar. "How'dja know I was here?"

"I'm your father; it's my job to know."

"Really." Dean stated in a tone he knew he'd probably regret later. "So tell me, father, where's your other son tonight?"

"Dean" John warned. He wasn't in the mood to have this argument again especially in front of a bar full of strangers. The first week Sammy was gone neither one of them spoke a word about it. By the time week two ended it seemed like all they did was fight about it.

Dean turned towards John with fire in his eyes. The alcohol was in full swing and he knew he was about to cross the line this time. He also knew his father didn't tolerate behavior like he was about to unleash but at that moment he didn't really give a shit about what John Winchester did and did not tolerate.

"No Dad, really, I want to know; since it's your job and all, maybe you could enlighten me. See; me; I have no freakin clue as to where Sammy is right now or who he's with. I haven't seen or heard from him in weeks ever since you kicked him out and told him to stay gone. Hell, for all I know he's face down in a ditch somewhere and you don't seem to give a rat's ass, so please; do tell."

His heart was racing, his palms were sweaty and his whole body was trembling with adrenaline. He watched as his father's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed; two instant, telltale signs that were common before a Winchester explosion.

John took a long swig of his beer, stood up and tossed some money down on the counter. Dean froze when he felt his father's hand on the back of his neck and his green eyes watched as John placed his other hand on the bar encompassing him. Leaning in close John spoke low and slow.

"O.K., you're upset with me, I get it, and I know you're hurting right now so I'm going to do you a favor and save you the embarrassment of me hauling your ass off that stool and dragging you out the door." Now", John said squeezing Dean's neck a little harder, "We're leaving. By the time I hit that doorway your butt better be in your car and halfway back to the room or so help me God…."

Dean didn't wait for John to finish. He pushed his stool back and headed towards the car.

John sat in his truck in front of the motel intently watching Dean as he paced back and forth in the room like a caged animal. This moment had been weeks in the making and John needed to make sure he handled it right. Ordinarily he wouldn't have hesitated one second. He would have marched right in and put a boot up Dean's ass for disrespecting him the way he did but this was no ordinary situation. Sammy's leaving had Dean tail-spinning and for the first time in his life, John couldn't help his son. He had hoped that the moodiness and the drinking would have subsided by now but it only seemed to be getting worse. For the first time in twenty-two years Dean was disobeying orders and he was becoming self destructive and a danger to hunt with. John realized it was time to take action, serious action when he found the drugs hidden in Dean's bag. He had to get his son help before he succeeded in destroying himself. However, convincing Dean of that was probably going to be more challenging than hunting the demon itself.