Nothing in this universe is written in stone, but when you've come to accept a certain behaviour as fact, it's equivalent to a punch to the stomach when you find out just how wrong you were.
Eighteen year old Dean Winchester experienced this phenomenon one evening when pissed at his father, who was supposed to have returned two days ago to the motel where he and his sibling had been ordered to wait, hadn't yet shown his face.
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John had taken the Impala, leaving Dean and his younger brother without wheels.
In an emergency, Dean would have had no trouble hot-wiring a car but he'd never been good with hanging around waiting, and that's exactly what he'd been ordered to do.
He'd lost count of the number of times he'd cleaned his weapons and had his eye-balls frazzled watching the grainy black and white TV.
Even baiting his baby brother had lost its charm!
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To make things worse, they were out of cash. The money John had left for food had been well and truly spent.
Sam was a growing boy after all and Dean could hardly let the kid starve.
If dad didn't show up tonight, Dean would have to either beg, steal or borrow, or more likely go hustle in the nearest bar!
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He pulled out his cell-phone to check the time. Nine-o'clock.
Each time he'd tried to call his father it had gone to voice-mail. But that was the norm where John Winchester was concerned.
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Sam was lying on the bed, fast asleep, the text-book he'd been reading abandoned on his chest.
A fond smile graced Dean's face as he contemplated his sibling. Sammy was growing like a weed, stumbling along like an ungainly colt, all knees and elbows.
Dean heaved a sigh. He didn't like leaving his brother on his own but they needed the money. At this point there was no guarantee Dad would show up tomorrow and that would mean chewing on their leather boots for breakfast if he couldn't come up with something.
He hung on another half-hour in the hope of hearing the rumbling roar of the Impala's engine drawing up outside, but when nothing was forthcoming he surrendered, scribbled a note to Sam, made sure all the salt lines were drawn, locked the door and set off on foot towards whichever bar, complete with pool table, turned up first.
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Just to piss him off, the nearest one didn't!
Dean rolled his eyes and walked on. The second was as empty of clients as his pockets of cash. No point in hanging around hoping it would busy up, but the third was just perfect, filled with gonzos ready to lose their cash to a very needy Winchester.
He grinned to himself. Shades of the 'Three Little Pigs.' He hoped the bar would be as lucky for him as the third house of bricks for the pigs!
Pulling out the ten dollar bill he always kept in the bottom of his duffel for emergencies, he fingered it wryly, hoping it would be enough for a first wager, then pushed open the door.
He checked out the area where the tables were set up and saw there were a couple of games going on.
Plastering on a smile, he moved forward, when out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a very familiar figure, one he'd seen looming over him since his earliest childhood memories.
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For a moment he was confused. If Dad was back why hadn't he come straight to the motel?
When a fat guy that was blocking his complete visual of the table where John Winchester was seated, moved away, the reason was quickly revealed.
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As far as sex was concerned, Dean didn't have a shy bone in his body, but watching his father as he leaned forward to place a kiss on the attractive woman's lips, he felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. Against all logic, he wanted to turn on his heel and run.
Though it was a simple kiss, Dean felt as if he was watching something intimate, something he shouldn't... didn't ...want to witness.
Since his mother's death, he'd never seen his father show any interest in another woman, except maybe when he was immersed in a hunt where everything was legit as long as it was focused to ganking the relative monster.
This was different.
Dean didn't understand why he should feel that way, but he did. Whoever this was, it wasn't anything to do with the supernatural.
But as if hypnotised by a cobra, Dean couldn't tear his gaze away.
He watched open-mouthed as John cupped the woman's face, one hand going to caress her blond hair before leaning in for another kiss.
She smiled back at him. the warmth in her eyes proof of an on-going affection for her partner. She was no bar-chick John had picked up for a one-night stand. There was a deeper feeling between them that could only have been caused by a lengthier relationship.
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Suddenly, Dean could take no more. His dad hadn't noticed him and that was fine.
This wasn't anything he was ever going to talk about with his father.
He felt as if something had broken inside of him, as if their lives, the sacrifices he and Sam were making, were less important than before.
There was no denying his father's obsession with tracking down Mary's killer, but just how did this woman fit in?
Why had Dad never mentioned her? He and Sam might have been surprised at first, even pissed but there was nothing wrong with a long-time widower cultivating a new relationship.
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When the Impala drew up in the middle of the night, Dean had been lying awake for hours feeling like a mother waiting up for her teenage kid on his first date, wondering if Dad would say anything about the mystery woman.
When John acted no different to the way he usually did, putting his lateness down to an unexpected complication with the hunt, Dean didn't know whether to be pissed or relieved.
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As the years passed and the Winchesters had their hands full with all the crap that chased after them, Dean had all but forgotten the incident, but when he sat down next to Sam at a table in an anonymous diner and watched a young kid called Adam slipping into the seat opposite him, he remembered.
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The End