A/N: I'm sorry I've been so late with this sequel. For one, my computer has been having some issues. I didn't want to bother writing something, only to have my lovely laptop shut off on me in mid-sentence. Not fun. Second, I almost decided to ditch this story for personal reasons. Recently there has been a cancer diagnosis within my own family. I'm not going to go into personal details, obviously, but it seemed a little too personal to go on with this sequel, even though it involves the aftermath of John's deal and not Dean's personal experiences. But I know that a good number of you have been patiently waiting for this, so I'm going to continue anyway. Needless to say, this will definitely be the last of the cancer fics for me, for a while, at least. Thank you all for your wonderful support these last few years, and your patience. And on a lighter note, I hope all my American friends/followers have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

One

Before, John Winchester had been a relatively patient man.

He'd served in the Marines in 'Nam, and while he had always followed orders like the true soldier he was, he had never been one to jump in, guns blazing, into action. It was how you got your ass killed. When he was back Stateside, the young man had adjusted well, settled down with Mary and had lived the cliched American Dream. Even after Mary's death, and he had been forced into a life of hunting, John had been willing to take his time, make sure he got it right before ganking the monster, before allowing little Dean to be trusted with a shotgun, even before jumping the gun on the identity of his wife's killer. He was a firm believer in the age old motto of getting it right the first time, a fact which resulted in a gruelling twenty plus year wait in identifying the demon with the eerie yellow eyes.

But that had been when he had the time. When he could afford to cross all the "t"s and dot the "i"s. Before he had endured the bitter taste of the demon's kiss when he had sealed his fate a few weeks earlier. One simple action, the act which was supposed to be one of love, lust, gentle intimacy, had very neatly signed his death warrant. He would do it again, in a heartbeat; anything to save his boys, and Dean had literally been on death's door. A diagnosis of liver cancer earlier that spring had left his eldest in a coma, and Sam nearly inconsolable. That one kiss had reversed his son's fate, and had ultimately sealed his. And now, as the days, hours, minutes slipped away, John Winchester realized that he really was, in fact, not as patient as he had once believed himself to be.

It was late October, nearly two months into his one year contract with the devil. Signs of demonic activity were popping up in California: electrical storms, cattle mutilations, the usual MO. Right from the start, John had been unsettled at that fact. He should have been elated that he was finally on the demon's trail, that he could potentially corner the sonofabitch and kill it once and for all, or die trying. It wasn't long before the hunter recognized that the demon wasn't just in California, but in southern California. Near Palo Alto, in fact.

Sam. Did the demon know that his son studied at Stanford? Had been on the west coast for about four years now? It could very well be a coincidence. But then, it wouldn't be the first time a demon would mess with one's family. It was practically written in the job description. And then there was the fact about his youngest, how he had been singled out as one of the demon's "special children". As to what that meant, John had no clue. But he had known the significance of his son's involvement for a while now, and while he was not sure which piece he was playing, he seemed to be more than a mere pawn. And now Yellow Eyes was in the area, near the anniversary of Mary's death.

He had sworn that he'd stay away from them. He didn't want his boys to find out about the deal, try to welch his way out of it. Not only could it potentially risk Dean's relapse (and who knew, this time the cancer could return with a greater vengeance), but he just couldn't bear to see his boys again. To see the anger, confusion, hurt in their eyes. He had done what he had to do, he'd saved his son's life, and he would do it again for either of his boys in a heartbeat. But to put on that false bravado, to hide the fear that sometimes would rear its ugly head in the dead of night, would be too much.

But he'd also made a promise: to Mary, to his sons, to himself, that he would finally find the demon who'd murdered his wife, who'd cursed Sam, who'd made him into the hardened man he was now. To protect his boys, especially his youngest, who just couldn't understand how much he truly loved them. And so, John Winchester had crossed the state line in the early hours of October 24th, a little over a week before the anniversary of the fire, determined to finish it once and for all.

XXX

"What do you mean, Dad's on a hunting trip?"

Dean Winchester sighed, staring into the eyes of first his brother, and then the beautiful woman at his side. Jessica Moore looked up at the man she had helped care for weeks earlier, the man who had been one foot in the grave just last summer. The man who now had a look of determination in his green eyes that was downright terrifying. She could stare someone down just as good as the meanest guy at the bar, and Dean actually found himself glancing downward for a moment. He quickly regained his composure, however, the gravity of the matter outweighing any potential discomfort.

"Like I said, he left me a note, said he was on a hunting trip, and not to expect him. I don't just mean a few days, either. I mean..."

"Yeah." Sam sighed, looked at his fiance. "I'm sorry, Jess, but I need you to excuse us." The blonde looked up at him, slightly irritated at being left out. The desire to call him out, to point out that in a year or so she'd be his damn wife hit her; it was on the tip of her tongue to say something. But after a moment she nodded, heading out to the bedroom. "There's a good book I've been meaning to finish," she called over her shoulder. For a moment, Sam watched her leave, and a feeling of guilt threatened to call her back into the room, family business be damned. Why should he have to hide this from her? He was going to marry her, for Christs' sakes. If they were keeping secrets of this magnitude even before their wedding... Sam closed his eyes, the beginnings of a stress headache threatening to explode. He knew damn well that this was one secret he was going to have to keep Jess out of the loop from. Sure, it could lead to a massive shit storm down the road, but it was a risk Sam was willing to make. Anything to keep her free from the supernatural world. There was safety in silence.

"That went well," Dean joked once the brothers were safely out of Jessica's earshot. Sam shot him one of his trademark bitchfaces, and the elder Winchester chuckled faintly. Sam finally broke the awkward silence by reaching out his hand. "Ok, Dean. Let's see it."

"Huh?"

"The note." Sam gave a slightly exasperated sigh, and extended his arm further. "You said Dad left you a note. Not exactly something new for him. So I wanna see it." Nodding, Dean reached into his jacket pocket and pulled up a piece of looseleaf, now crumpled from the constant unfolding and refolding of one who has read over something many times. "Yeah, sure. Guess you figured that Dad wrote a little more than 'I'm going on a hunting trip', huh?"

But Sam said nothing. He stood there, reading the neat script his father had written on the page in horror. The note was short, to the point, just like John Winchester himself, but there was a horrible tone of finality in those words, as if he were saying goodbye:

Boys,

I hate leaving you like this. But I'm close to getting whatever killed your mom. This is gonna end soon. Dean, take care of your brother. Not that I need to even ask you that. You've been watchin' Sammy since you were four. And Sam. I know I've never really said it to you, but I'm proud of you, son. I know we always kinda butted heads when you were growing up, but I want you to know it was to keep you safe. You probably don't understand now, but someday, son, you will. Keep your heads up, boys. See you around,

Dad.

Was that really their father? Could he have honestly written something like this? Sam stared at the paper in shock, unbelieving that their father could have ever written anything like this. John Winchester had never had a sympathetic bone in his body. Maybe he had talked like that to their mom before the fire, but this... this was not the John Winchester he knew: that either of them knew.

"Yeah, weird, isn't it?"

Sam looked up, saw his brother nodding his head slightly in agreement. "Read that god knows how many times since I found it. It's Dad's handwriting and all..."

"But there's no way Dad could have written something like this."

Dean nodded again. "Definitely. It sounded like something from a chick flick. But definitely not Dad. Something's up, for sure. Not sure what yet, but I have a bad feeling about this."

"Yeah, me too." Sam glanced once again at the note, eyes wandering across the page. Dean was right. This was definitely John Winchester's handwriting. So either someone had forced him to write this, or something terrible had happened. Was he sick? Had he been so all this time, and neither brother had noticed? Of course, Sam's mind had been on his brother's own illness, and would have likely not noticed anything wrong with their dad, but still...

"The good thing is, though, Dad did leave us a clue here."

Sam thought a moment, and then nodded in agreement. "He's chasing the thing that killed mom. He said something about it being a demon."

"And demons tend to leave a pretty obvious paper trail behind 'em."

"And the only thing that sounded like Dad was when he mentioned that he had a lead on what killed Mom. So he's gonna be hunting it down. Making it easy for you to track down."

"Yeah, about that..."

Sam's eyes suddenly narrowed. Dean wasn't seriously suggesting he go with him, right? Just drop everything he had worked for and just go with him? No. It wasn't happening. Especially now when his life was finally getting back to normal.

"Dean, you know I can't go with you, right? I'm going back to school. I'm getting married. I said I left the life, and I meant it."

"Sam. I need your help, man. Dad could be in trouble, could need our help. We can't just abandon him like this."

"Like he abandoned you when you were sick."

Dean froze, eyes narrowed. A look of pure anger flashed across his face, one Sam had rarely seen growing up unless directed on one of the creatures he hunted. To Sam's surprise, his brother grabbed at the collar of his shirt, pinning him to the wall. "Don't you dare pull that card, Sam," he hissed, green eyes bright with anger. "He was there in the end. Sure, he wasn't there twenty-four- fucking seven, but in the end, he was there, all right? So don't you ever talk like that about Dad, you got me?"

"Why do you always idolize that man, huh? What did he ever do to us, to you, other than train us to be soldiers in his war? It's nothing but revenge, man." For a moment, Dean looked as if he were about to punch him. But a moment later, he relaxed his grip on his brother and leaned against the wall beside him. "Look man, I get it," he admitted. "You two didn't exactly see eye to eye. But this is Dad we're talking about. He could be hurt, or worse. And we have a chance to do something about it. And yeah, I get it if you want to stay here with Jess. Have that apple pie life or whatever. But he's our family, Sam. We can't just ditch him."

Sam opened his mouth in protest, once again about to remind Dean of how their father had been almost too little, too late when he had been on death's door. But after a moment, he simply nodded his head. "I can help you research," he finally conceded. "But that's about it. I can't involve Jess in this shit, Dean. I love her and I'm not about to risk her life when Dad's probably fine anyways."

"You don't really believe that, Sam," Dean mumbled. But he nodded his agreement, relishing in this small victory. If he could convince his brother to research what was going on, that was a small step into his ultimate goal: for Sam to join him on the hunt for their dad. That would likely prove to be tough, if not next to impossible, but it was a start at least. He grinned as he watched his brother pull out his laptop, firing up the device, and helped himself to the kitchen for a beer. It felt good to finally be able to enjoy one, his cancer diagnosis having preventing him from indulging. Grabbing one for his brother, Dean popped the top and downed a generous swig before handing one to his brother. "Gonna be a long night, Sammy," he said, pulling up a chair. "We've got work to do."