Foreword: TRIGGER WARNINGS. John-Dean incest, underage. From Dean's POV

Dean would give everything for his family. Ever since John told him that his job, his life was to protect Sam's and support the family, Dean understood what he was for. Dean was not meant to be anything more than an aid, something to help push his family along and live their lives. And Dean accepted that, Dean knew it was what he was good at. He cared for Sammy and helped his father hunt, he would throw himself in harm's way to protect either of them and do so much more.

And then John got angry one night. The hunt had gone very bad; the creature got away from them and they had to chase it. When they caught up it had smashed the window of the Impala and grabbed Sam where he was waiting inside. Before John could shoot it scratched Sam up badly. He didn't need to go to the hospital but his arms were bandaged up thickly and his left eye was black and blue. John didn't say a word the entire drive back to the motel room and Dean felt the deep sinking feeling coiling in his stomach. John told Sam to go to bed, that everything would be alright, and he needed to speak with Dean outside.

Dean forced himself not to shake as he muttered, "Yes, sir," and followed him out.

Dean barely closed the door when the yelling started. Dean didn't even try to defend himself, just held his head down and took it.

Dean could handle physical blows. He could fight back then and usually it resulted in snuffing out a supernatural bastard. John had only raised his hand to Dean twice in his life, and both times Dean had mouthed him off and he quickly learned not to ever disobey his father, his father was always right.

But the yelling he couldn't stand. He knew he screwed up, he knew it. Feeling those words slice into his skin - protect Sammy!, you failed, what good are you?, both could be dead, your fault!, why do I bother? You want to be a man or not?- was making Dean tremble and it took everything in him not to cry. God dammit, he was sixteen years old and still felt like a child.

John barked at him to look him in the eye and Dean didn't know if letting his dad see his blood shot eyes was worse than disobeying his order. Dean pretended like he didn't hear, and John was yelling more. But his words this time freaked Dean out.

"So you think this was okay, then? That you can just bounce back all the time? You think you're a man, Dean, think you have what it takes? Well maybe you don't need me, don't need my money and my care, you can take off with your little brother all by yourself! I'll leave in the morning Dean, and you get to be the big man."

Dean felt anxiety and panic flood his senses and Dean really did start to cry then, because of everything Dean feared, his Dad leaving him behind freaked him out so badly he couldn't even breathe. He felt John grab him by his chin to force his head up and he screamed, "Do you hear me, boy?"

Dean just looked him in the eye and sniffled, tears making his eyes and cheeks hot. He couldn't gather the breath to respond so he shook his head vigorously, crying harder until his breaths were reduced to gasps and loud, breathless sobs.

John sighed sharply and pushed Dean away, making him stumble a little bit into the car. He turned his back on Dean and in a moment of irrational fear he thought John really was going to leave him.

Dean managed to gather enough air to sob out in a few desperate breaths, "P-please, please Dad don…don't leave! I'm-, Dad I'm…s-sorry! I'm sorry!"

Nonono please, please don't let John leave them he couldn't survive, he couldn't live. Dean didn't know anything but obeying his father. He couldn't survive without his orders.

John turned back to Dean and for that moment he looked surprised, but scoffed and shook his head. He said nothing but didn't turn away again, just quietly fumed and let Dean get control of himself.

Really, Dean knew that half of his angry words were born of panic from seeing Sam hurt. That the creature could have taken someone else away from them. They still didn't hurt less, and the other half of that anger was still directed at Dean. And that threat of leaving was still looming over Dean's head and he needed to make it better, he would do anything, anything to make it all better.

"Dad," Dean choked, "I'll make it up to you, I swear. I'll do anything, just give me a chance! Let me do something to fix this!" Just let me try, please don't leave us!

John was still mad, the adrenaline and anger still coursing through his veins and he grabbed Dean roughly by the front of his shirt and hauled him close and up so Dean was almost eye level and his feet were barely touching the ground.

John seethed as he spoke and Dean could practically hear the words echoing in his mind, "What can you possibly give me, boy? You are a child. You aren't even old enough to drink or fuck yet."

Dean flinched away a bit; his hands grasped tightly over John's large forearms to keep him balanced. Dean thought about that statement for a long time. No, he wasn't old enough to drink, but Dean couldn't help but think that being able to kill outweighed the legal aspects of alcohol. And, well, Dean may or may not have tried some things with girls already and he knew a couple of people in his class had already gone the whole way. He knew he was old enough to handle that.

Before Dean could really understand what he was saying, he stuttered unsteadily back, "I-I'm old enough, sir. I c-can do those things."

And Dean had no idea what he was offering to his dad's face, not exactly. Dean had an inkling, but it was half-formed and he knew that no way was John thinking that, he was his father. Yet look in John's eyes had wavered past angry and something unrecognizable kept flashing between worry and frustration.

John stared Dean down, disbelief now evident in his eyes and creased brow, and he lowered him to the ground. Dean held his gaze, straightening his back and trying to look sure of himself despite his red-blotched face and burning eyes. At least he had stopped crying.

After a long moment of silence John said, "Do you even know what you're offering, boy?"

And that feeling in his gut was starting to raise now, that maybe he was right about what that look had been.

"Y-yes sir," Dean replied, mad his voice had cracked.

John's eyebrows arched a little and with a hard push on Dean's shoulders forced Dean down to his knees, his face now level with his father's crotch.

"Are you sure?" His dad asked in a clipped tone, obviously not believing his oldest son.

Dean's eyes widened then, because John could not have made it more obvious if he had told Dean outright. The reality of it made Dean scared for a moment, unsure if this was something he was willing to give. But Dean quickly reminded himself that he had screwed up, and now his dad was giving him a chance atone for his mistake and let them move on from this. Dean was willing to do anything for his Dad, anything so that John wouldn't yell at him, and John could be happy with him if only for a second. After all Dean adored his father in every way, he admired him, wanted to be everything to John. His son, his partner, his tool, his soldier. He wanted to give his dad everything he could.

But he never thought about this. Dean found it didn't disturb him as much as it probably should have.

Dean made his decision, and managed to whisper another, "Yes, sir."

John was quiet, and then let out a sharp exhale, his eyes lidding slightly as he said, "Then get to it."

Panic clawed at Dean's head again, this was going really fast and he stuttered, "I-I've never-"

"You'll learn," his dad replied, firmly but softly.

Dean had opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped himself. If he continued to fear this he would make John think he was changing his mind and he really didn't want his dad mad at him again. He could do this.

With shaking hands Dean started to unbuckle his dad's belt, sliding the thick leather loose enough from him to reach the opening of his jeans. He unbuttoned the fly and slid the zipper down, each clank of the metal loud in Dean's ears. He tugged the denim down to John's knees and then, with a moment of hesitation, his boxers followed.

John had already started to grow thick and Dean swallowed hard again. The farthest he'd gotten sexually was feeling up Melinda from science class. They had skipped lunch to hide in a closet, and it had been short because they needed to run to class before anyone noticed them gone. This was a hell of a lot different. But Dean wanted to, needed to please his father. Dean could just die if he didn't please John.

Dean leaned forward and nuzzled his father's length briefly, feeling the skin and inhaling his father's scent. He was familiar with the musk, but it was headier here, stronger and Dean groaned a little. He felt John jerk slightly above him and his gaze quickly darted up, worried he had done something wrong already. But John's gaze hadn't changed, lidded eyes watching Dean intently. Dean lowered his gaze again, bringing his hands up to steady himself on John's thighs. He gently pressed his mouth over soft skin, feeling the pulse against his lips and the length hardening more. Dean more or less started guess work, kissing it and licking it, finding that when he used his tongue John's breath would hitch. When his dad was fully hard and leaking pre-come, which Dean had lapped from the tip and made John groan lowly, he felt a hand tangle through his hair and tug him back, making Dean wince and pull away to look up.

"Stop messing around," John ordered, a slight breathlessness in his tone. Dean nodded; he knew he had been stalling, but it was now or never.

He slowly, hesitantly, put his hand around the base of his father's cock and drew him into his mouth, sucking softly until he felt the head bump the back of his throat and he gagged, drawing back a little. He tongued at the base and moaned a little at the salty taste. Dean heard a small, shuddering gasp come from his dad and he looked up, searching for approval of what he was doing. John's brow was creased, his mouth slightly slack. His eyes still bored into Dean's, but the pupils were dilated now. Dean felt a sense of pride knowing that he was giving his father pleasure.

Dean started bobbing his head then, using his hand where he couldn't reach with his mouth and sucking his father as hard as he could. John moaned Dean's name and bucking his hips against Dean's mouth, making him gag a little before pulling back. John kept his hips very still then and Dean knew he was holding himself back. So Dean tried to take more in, fighting his gag reflex to swallow around the head and bob his head a little faster. John cried out softly, his fingers digging into Dean's shoulder and the hood of the Impala. He used his tongue to press into the vein and tease the head, something that made John's knees shake and Dean reveled in that knowledge. Spit leaked from the corners of his mouth and his jaw ached from keeping his mouth wide but he didn't care, he was making John happy and he wasn't going to stop. Dean registered his own arousal pressing painfully into his jeans, pulsing and aching in its confined state but his hands were too busy keeping him from collapsing and touching John to do anything about it.

John was cursing and moaning Dean's name, strings of barely-intelligible words falling from his mouth –god Dean that's so good, your mouth is perfect, so hot, holy fuck don't stop- and if Dean could have smiled he would have. Both of John's hands moved to Dean's head and he shallowly fucked his mouth, letting Dean control how much he took in, and now that slide of flesh against his lips and throat was turning Dean on and he moaned desperately at the sensation, his own hips bucking up as his body begged for contact. He braced his arms on John's thighs and grasped his hips lightly, keeping his head still and swallowing around the head each time it hit the back of his throat; it helped keep him from gagging and he learned quickly that John liked it a lot. He let his dad fuck his mouth, the rocking picking up until John was burying himself deep with each hard thrust. Dean felt his nose brush coarse hairs around John's crotch and found himself proud he was able to take in so much.

Dean heard a few strings of John's babbling again, like lips and eyes like your mother, so gorgeous baby boy, just like her, oh FUCK but he was too far gone to register what it meant. John was holding Dean steady enough that he could move one hand down to his crotch and kneaded himself through the thick denim, his long moan muffled around his father's arousal pressed completely inside his mouth.

John growled out he was about to come and Dean sucked him harder, looking up at his dad for the first time in a while. John's pupils were blown completely, moaning in-between harsh pants. When they locked eyes Dean saw his dad's eyes glaze as his brow creased together, letting out a loud, stuttered moan and squeezing his eyes shut. Dean felt his father swell in his mouth and John jerked forward, burying himself deeper in Dean's mouth than he had before and pulsing thick, hot come down Dean's throat. The sensation of his father throbbing so hard made Dean whimper and it was enough to drive him over the edge, his own hips jerking as he came inside his jeans.

John slipped out of his mouth and turned to lean heavily against the Impala, both of them panting for breath. Dean wiped his mouth off and shakily stood, uncomfortable with the cooling mess in his pants but pushing that to the back of his mind. He held his eyes down respectfully and waited for his father to talk, affirmation that he had atoned for his screw-up, and that he was dismissed. Dean was never allowed to leave without first being given permission.

He kept his gaze away as John pulled his boxers and jeans up and tucked himself back inside, zipping his pants and buckling his belt in silence. The quiet between them was heavy and quickly growing awkward and Dean wondered if he had done something wrong.

"Dean," John finally said, and Dean immediately looked up. John stared into his eyes for a moment, darting momentarily over to Dean's lips and hair before going back to his eyes. Dean knew that his lips were swollen and that his hair was a mess. He felt his face growing hot under his father's scrutiny but held his gaze.

John grimaced slightly and something like pain flashed in his eyes before he looked away. Dean's brow creased and he opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but John beat him to the punch.

"Go get some sleep, Dean. You can use my bed; you don't have to share with Sammy."

Dean felt something heavy knot in his stomach and the panic was coming back.

"D-Dad, what do you-"

"I need time alone," John responded, his tone sharp but his eyes didn't match the authority. He looked pained, guilty. Why? Did Dean do something wrong again?

"Dad, I'm sorry, I don't know what I..."

John chuckled, but no mirth was in it, and said, "You did nothing wrong, son."

His dad still wouldn't look him in the eye. Dean couldn't shake that unease.

"I-is it something I did? Let me fix it Dad-"

"Dean," John snapped, "You are dismissed."

The challenge was there now and Dean snapped his mouth shut in obedience.

"Yes, sir," Dean muttered softly, shaking slightly as he turned his back and walked back into the motel room.

Please let Dad be here in the morning, please...

A/n:

I, uhm. I don't even know where this came from. I don't even like John/Dean, it creeps me out like mad. Usually. Kinda. I don't even know anymore.

I'm almost tempted to continue this story. It's complete on its own though, so we'll see what feedback I get. Feedback would be MUCH loved.

...I'm going to go back to writing that other thing now. *scurries away*