Faith

"You were right Sam."

I was so shocked to hear those three words out of my father's mouth that I would have started reciting an exorcism right then and there if I hadn't witnessed him cross the salt line this morning to get breakfast and then again when he came back. Are there demons that can cross a salt line? Shapeshifter maybe? Where exactly was my silver knife?

"Oh, stop looking at me like that Sammy. I can admit when I'm wrong. It just happens so infrequently that you can't remember." I refused to feel all warm and gooey about the open affection in his tone and expression. Instead, I rolled my eyes at his smirk and he sobered. "I couldn't come, but I should have called when Dean was sick. I started to a thousand times. I just didn't know how the hell I was supposed to make a phone call like that. What the hell do you say? 'So I hear you're dying son. Sorry I can't make it. I'll miss you.' How utterly fucked is that? I just kept remembering the day he was born, when they put him in my arms. He was so tiny and perfect… A father's not supposed to outlive his children, Sammy. I've been through a lot of shit in my life, but I don't think I could survive either of you dying. I was supposed to protect him, both of you. Die doing it if I had to. And I failed. I just couldn't bring myself to face up to that. So there you have it. You were right and I was a bastard and a coward."

And just like that I understood. I didn't want to. I wanted to be able to hold that against him for the next thirty years. It was proof that he really didn't give a damn, that I wasn't so wrong in leaving the way I did. But really it was because he cared too much. He couldn't deal. It was wrong and fucked up, but it wasn't malicious or a sign that he was too obsessed with the hunt to care. He was just… scared. As much as I hated to admit it, I could relate. It was the same reason that I never called when I left. I was terrified that one of them would be dead. The not knowing was horrible, the separation was like having a limb or two amputated, but the idea of knowing for sure that one or both of them was gone forever was somehow worse in my mind. I smirked. Dean always said that Dad and I were alike.

"You're not a coward, Dad. You're just human. I remember… I remember when you'd go out hunting alone and you'd come back all fucked up sometimes. Dean and I would have to patch you up and one day I finally really understood that you weren't a superhero, that you might really die, it got to the point that I was terrified that you just wouldn't come back one day. We'd never find out what exactly happened to you. You'd just be gone, like you never even fucking existed. It's one of the reasons that I decided to leave. It was killing me. That and Dean… God, I was so afraid that Dean would get himself killed protecting me. That's what all my nightmares were about. All the bloody, painful ways the two of you could die."

Dad snorted and smiled humorlessly.

"What?"

"It just never occurred to me that you'd be afraid that I'd die. I was so focused on not losing you that I didn't even consider that you'd be worried about losing me. What a pair we make."

It wasn't like my father to be this open. Not that I hadn't wished for it a thousand times. Was it what happened to Dean that was making him all warm and paternal? Somehow I doubted it. Not that finding out your oldest son had been raped wouldn't change your behavior, but John Winchester always had an end goal in mind for everything he ever did. That's just who he was and I doubted anything would ever change that, ever really break that iron control he kept himself under for more than a few moments at a time. "Dad, not that I don't appreciate it, but where's this little heart to heart coming from?"

He smiled wryly. "I need you to understand what I'm going to do." He was studying my face, his stare so intense that I wondered for half a second if he could read my thoughts.

Great. I didn't like this plan already. My gaze flickered protectively towards the closed door of the bathroom where Dean was taking one of his ridiculously long showers. If Dad was going to just take off now, so help me God I really was going to kill him. Of course I'd have to hide the body before Dean saw it. The upside was it would take at least six months before Dean suspected anything. "Which would be?"

"I'm taking Dean with me on a hunt. It's dangerous, and I need you to put up your usual fight, but you have to curb that tongue of yours. None of that good little soldier bullshit you like to throw around. No belittling your brother because he actually trusts me."

"What the hell? Hasn't he been through enough? Now you're going to risk his life?" Okay, so him taking off wouldn't have been the worst thing he could do. This was. Dragging his already traumatized son into the middle of his insane mission. Not obsessed with revenge my ass.

"That's just the thing. I told your brother that I don't see him any differently, but he's not going to completely accept that until I prove it. I can only prove it by taking him with me and letting him watch my back. He needs to know that I still trust him with my life. The last thing I can do is coddle him. That would just break him for good. I stayed up all night trying to think of what to do and that's the best I could come up with. If you got any better ideas I'm all ears."

That last sentence cut me off at the knees. Because, really, I didn't have any better ideas. I didn't have any ideas at all. I knew that Dean had to learn to trust himself again and that probably the only way for him to do that was to know that Dad still trusted him. I was his kid brother and I was supposed to trust him. In Dean's mind, that was like a natural law or something so me still believing in him didn't really count. But Dad's trust wasn't easy to come by or hold on to. If Dad could show Dean that he could still count on him in a tight spot, that would go a long way to rebuilding my brother's shattered self-confidence. I looked away and folded my arms, trying to keep myself from flying apart at the seams. It was bad enough that Dad was out there doing God only knew what stupid reckless things to try to run that Yellow Eyed bastard to ground, but now he wanted to take Dean with him. That means my whole damn family would be out there in danger and there was nothing I could do to even try to keep them safe. "I don't. But that doesn't mean I have to like yours."

"You wanted me here to help, Sammy. This is me here helping."

"Reminding me that you violated my privacy last night isn't helping with the trust factor here, Dad."

"Dean's the best hunter I've ever seen." Dad snorted, that look of pride shining in his eyes that I had always been so jealous of. "Damn sure better than me. He can handle himself. If I can just get him to believe that again… if I can just repair some of the damage those sick fucks did to his self-confidence, he can finish mending. There'll still be a long way to go before he's himself again. There aren't any magic cures for something like this. It's going to take time and patience. You've done a really good job so far."

I turned my head to look at him so quickly I swear I have a mild case of whiplash. Was that actually approval? "Thanks, Dad."

"Except for the whole not calling me part."

I snorted in amusement. "Do you always have to ruin the moment?" Dad laughed and I enjoyed the sound of it rumbling up from his chest. Dad didn't laugh often. "He needs you too, Dad."

"And I need the two of you safe."

"Which means you're going to leave again soon." He was silent, neither confirming or denying, which was the same as a confirmation. "Hunting evil supernatural creatures isn't exactly a low risk occupation."

"There's evil and then there's evil."

I closed my eyes a took a calming breath. I'd forgotten how good Dad was with the cryptic. "What the hell are we supposed to do if something happens to you?"

The look that flickered through his eyes made my blood run cold. He was expecting to die. My legs went week and I barely made it to one of the cheap chairs before they gave out on me. Dad dragged the other chair around the table and sat down in front of me. "Sammy, control your breathing son. You're gonna pass out."

Was that wheezing me? I forced my breathing to slow and deepen, until it mimicked Dad's. The lightheadedness slowly disappeared and I became aware that Dad was petting me. One hand on my cheek, the other in my hair, smoothing it out. "Good boy."

"Dad, you can't… God, Dad."

Sammy, you and Dean will have each other. You'll be okay."

"We can help you. It won't be so dangerous with the three of us together."

"No! I won't have you anywhere near that bastard."

"But, Dad-" Dean chose that moment to emerge from the shower, before I had the chance to remind him that this was our fight too. It was our mother that was murdered. My girlfriend. My brother really did have the world's worst timing.

"What ? Who died?"

And that was just too much. I practically ran out of the hotel room, slamming the door behind me. Dean was broken – mending yes, but still broken – and my father was on some crazy suicide mission. What the fuck was going to happen to Dean when Dad got himself killed? For that matter, what was going to happen to me? I slumped against the cold bricks of the motel for what seemed like an eternity before I felt a warm hand on my neck.

"Son-"

"I just… make sure that both of you come back safe."

He squeezed gently. "I will."

I hugged him then. He hesitated briefly before returning it. Winchesters weren't big on hugging. "Just promise me that you'll try to come up with a way to finish this that doesn't include you dying?"

He sighed. "I'll try." He pulled away. "I have to go pick up some supplies. I'll be back in about an hour."

Translation: I'm giving you time to go talk to your brother… make sure you behave.

I nodded and returned to the hotel room. I found Dean packing, his back to the door.

"Go ahead an' say it," he said without turning around.

"Say what?"

He glanced at me for a second before he zipped up his bag. "That 'm nothing but Dad's good little soldier, that 'm just following him blindly. I know you're dyin' to."

And fuck, that look in his eyes right then? The way he avoided looking directly at me… the rape didn't do that. I did that. Maybe the rape had made it easier to see, but that was all me. I felt sick. How many times had I belittled Dean since we'd been back on the road together? Implied he was stupid, laughed at his homemade equipment, treated him as if everything wrong in my life was his fault, acted like I was better than him? All because I was hurting and Dean could take it, right? Dean was tough. He'd never break. Dad had seen it, what all that had done to him. "I'm an asshole."

"What?"

"I said I'm an asshole. There's nothing wrong with you, Dean. I'm the one who said to hell with the rest of the world as long as I could live in my safe little bubble."

"Don't say that Sam. You just wanted something for yourself. Wanted a better life."

"Yeah. I wanted to become a lawyer while someone else stopped all the child-eating clowns and the shapeshifters who framed innocent people for murder and homicidal ghost trucks. Yeah, I'm real fucking noble. Besides Jess, how many other innocent people do you suppose died because I was a selfish bastard?"

"Sammy, come on! That wasn't your fault!" Typical Dean. I beat up on him and he just swallows it until he can't anymore and gets angry. I beat up on myself and he's instantly defending me.

"Dean, this isn't a guilt trip. The truth is that if I hadn't left, if I hadn't tried to pretend that I could just walk away and all that evil would just let me go she would still be alive. Knowing what I knew, and I didn't even have any protection sigils up? Didn't teach Jess what to look out for? That's just fucking negligent, Dean and don't make excuses for me."

"You don't know that she'd still be alive." And really that was all he could say because I was right and we both knew it.

"Maybe not, but I'm reasonably sure that Yellow Eyes would have much given a damn about her if it weren't for me. But you… you're the most selfless person I know. Your whole life is about saving innocent people."

He snorted as he sat on the bed next to his duffle. "I am so not selfless. Just ask the tail of women I left all over the damn country."

"Dean, they weren't expecting marriage and a white picket fence. They got what they wanted too. You didn't take advantage of anybody."

He shrugged. "Yeah, maybe."

Dean insisted that I go to Bobby's until they were finished and I wasn't in the mood to argue. Probably a first in a long time for me that being treated like I was still six didn't make me want to argue. So that's where I am tonight, four hours later. Bobby asked if I wasn't too long in the tooth to need babysitting. I just smiled and said that I loved him too. Thankfully he dropped the subject. So now I wait and hope that my faith in Dad isn't misplaced.


A/N: Wow! I got a lot of reviews. I'm glad so many of you liked my take on John! I have a John centric fic you might like too,

Being John Winchester. Check it out if you get the chance. I intended this to be the last chapter, but the way it came out it seems to be evolving into something that could last a while. Let me know if you want me to keep going or just resolve the main plot. Of course, the main focus will still be what happened to Dean and how that affects everything and vice versa. If you want me to keep going, I'll probably try a different POV.

Thank you so much, VindictiveMuse, standabvthcrwd1, Zerestor, supernaturaldh, DeanBean, Yammy1983, riquity, greendaypumpkin, cHoCoLaTe-cHiHuAhUa & deangirl1! I keep making myself cry so I'm glad I'm not the only one.

-Angie