John Winchester tried to open his eyes. It was a challenge. His eyelids seemed to weigh a ton and refused to respond to his brain's instructions. He finally decided to give up, let himself rest, and try to remember what had happened.
He'd been driving through the small Michigan town, looking for a place to set up as HQ as he continued the search for his son and Dean. He'd been driving by a ratty-looking motel when he'd seen the Impala parked out front. It had been a happy coincidence.
He'd watched the motel, and had seen, much to his dismay, Sammy and the monster walking out of the room after nightfall. He'd given them a slight lead and then followed them, staying downwind, to the park.
He'd kept away from them, still downwind so the wolf wouldn't catch his scent. He'd heard the sounds of a scuffle. As he'd run to see what that thing had done to his son, he'd been stopped. The man that stood between him and his son had been tall and strong, and had grabbed his shoulder and looked into his eyes. That was the last thing he remembered.
Once again, John tried to open his eyes. He succeeded and found himself in a small, slightly run-down motel room that smelled of gunpowder and wet dog. He didn't recognize the place, even though it felt like home. After a while, all motels begin to feel like home if you stay in enough of them.
He was lying spread-eagled on the bed, his wrists tied to the bedposts. Grunting, he shifted, bringing his legs together and into a more comfortable position. He was about to call out and see who had tied him up when he heard voices coming from another part of the room, behind the partition that hid the bathroom.
"I say we leave him." He knew that voice. It was Sammy. His Sammy. His son had found him.
"No." Dean's voice. Harsh, a little confused. John felt a shiver run up his spine. Every nerve in his body started screaming at him to run. The thing he'd been hunting for three months had wound up capturing him. He would be mauled, at best.
"What do you mean 'no?'" Sam again.
"I mean, this thing is like other vampires, Sammy. Once it gets a scent, it's got it for life. That's how it tracked down those kids. It sniffed 'em out. It doesn't let its meals live. Dad's next."
"So? He's been hunting you down, Dean, trying to kill you. Maybe he deserves it."
John barely held back a gasp. He'd known that Sam didn't always agree with him, definitely didn't agree with him on this particular issue, but leaving him to die seemed cruel.
"Nobody deserves that," Dean shot back, "look, I know what he's been trying to do, but if we leave him tied to the bed and get outta town, that thing's gonna drain him."
"He can get out."
"We tied him pretty tight."
"He'll be fine."
"No, Sammy. I'm not gonna leave him to die. Besides, this might be our chance."
"What chance?"
"The chance to change his mind about me."
"What are you talking about?" Sam asked.
"If we save him, he'll know I'm not a monster. But if I run away with my tail between my legs and he gets out, he's just gonna keep on doing what he's been doing. He'll never stop. You know how stubborn dad is."
"Which is exactly why he'll never change his mind."
"I dunno," Dean said, and John could hear the smile in his voice, "you changed yours."
"That was different."
"All I'm saying is that we should try to save him. He is our father, after all. And if he doesn't come around, we can always leave him on the bed and run. OK?"
He heard Sam sigh, a sound made to stall for time as he thought up a better argument. Finally he conceded. "Ok. We'll tell him when he wakes up."
"You'll tell him, you mean," Dean said as he headed around the little wall that separated the room into two sides, "I get the distinct feeling he likes you better."
Sam grinned, rounding the corner behind his brother. "Just stay behind me, ok?"
John cleared his throat, looking at the men he'd abandoned six months before, his heart aching. Sam looked so much older, more mature, as if the weight of the world had fallen on his shoulders. His eyes were harder, more threatening, daring him to try and make a move.
Dean, on the other hand, actually looked younger. The dark circles that had sat just below his eyes since he was four had disappeared almost completely and there was a healthy glow about him. His eyes, however, were the same: haunted and troubled, a window into a fragile soul.
"Dad," they said at the same time, though Sam's voice was louder and harsher, where Dean's was barely a whisper.
"There any reason you tied me up?"
"What do you think?" Sam barked, stepping in front of his brother and narrowing his eyes.
John sighed, really not in the mood for a fight unless he could stand nose-to-nose with his son in an attempt to make him back down. "What was it?"
"Psychic vampire," Dean reported quietly, stepping around to his brother's side, "we were hunting it last night when we found it attacking you. It saw us and ran off. I chased after it and Sam made sure you were all right."
John nodded. "Since you seem to be the calm one here, why don't you tell me why I'm tied up?" He didn't mean to put that cold edge in his voice, really, but he couldn't help it. It seemed to be second nature whenever he was talking to something that wasn't human.
"We didn't want you to do something you might regret," Dean answered slowly, refusing to meet his father's eyes.
"What might that be?"
"We didn't want you to kill him," Sam snapped, startling everyone with the ferocity of his words.
"You're not acting like yourself, Sammy," John muttered, thinking aloud, "what happened? Did he bite you?"
"No, dad, he didn't bite me. Did you ever think that I could be acting like this because you're trying to kill my brother?"
"That's not your brother," the old hunter answered calmly, wincing inwardly as he saw Dean flinch and edge closer to Sam.
"Yes, he is."
"It's not even really a he anymore, Sammy, it's an it. And it's gonna kill you if you let it."
"Dean would never hurt me. You know that."
"That isn't Dean."
"Prove it."
"What is he when the moon rises, Sam?"
Sam straightened up, jutting his chin out and glaring down his nose at his father. "He's. Still. Dean."
John shook his head. "You can't see it, can you? Can't see that he's no different than-"
"Would a monster want to save you?" Dean shouted suddenly, tearing his family out of their argument. Two sets of shocked eyes turned to him.
"What?" John asked.
"Sam wanted to leave. He wanted to leave you here, tied up in this motel, to die. If it hadn't been for the fact that you could wake up and start following us again, he would have left you in that park, too. That thing's gonna come back and it's gonna try to finish the job. I'm not gonna let it. He was."
John stared at him, eyes hard and unemotional, face set. "Saying you'll save me to get me to trust you. It's a good trick."
Dean sighed, slumping his shoulders and running a hand through his hair, which, John noticed, he'd let grow out a little since the last time they'd all been together. "Fine. Be like that. But I'm still gonna save you from that vampire." He turned to Sam. "I'm starving. You want anything?"
"Burger and fries," the younger man replied, glaring at their father. Dean nodded, grabbed his car keys from the dresser, and headed out the door.