Chap. 9

John found him in the garage under the hood of an old beat up Mustang. Sitting on a stool just beside the car was Sammy, chattering a mile a minute. Smiling to himself, John leaned against the door facing and watched. Some things never change. Dean would always find working on cars relaxing and Sam would always shadow Dean jabbering about everything and nothing at the same time. When Sammy was younger, the shadow routine was more about emulating his cool as hell older brother, now though; John knew the stalker act was more about protection than anything else. Sam had finally realized just how bad things had always been for Dean and the mother hen in him surfaced in full force. Dean had always taken care of him, now it was his turn to return the favor.

Dean picked up the scent just as Sammy handed him the wrench. No immediate threat, just Dad, lurking in the doorway. What the hell was up with the man? This wasn't the dad he remembered. This dad was not the tough marine drill instructor of his childhood. This version of Dad was softer around the edges and since no one would ever hear this, especially Dad, Dean could admit that the Dad like thing was a little doughy around the middle as well.

"You do realize that I picked up your scent the minute you walked up, right?"

John stepped out of the shadows and conceded the lose. Dean was a better hunter than he would ever be. Hell, Dean had been a better man at four than John could ever hope to be.

Sam peeked around the hood and instantly stopped talking. He didn't know what had happened after the panic attack between his father and Dean, but he knew it couldn't be good. Dean was still shaken by whatever had transpired.

"You guys want a beer?"

"Yeah, Sammy that'd be great. Thanks."

"Dad?"

"Sure."

As Sam headed for the kitchen, John approached his son only to watch as the kid stepped back and away.

"Why are you so skittish around me, now?"

"I'm sure Bobby did ever test known to the hunting community when you showed up, but I'm still not convinced. You're different. My father would have never taken time away from a hunt for something like this."

"Maybe I just realized some things were more important than hunting."

"You realize that just now or after Bobby told you I'd been some perverts little bitch for years?"

John dropped his head and sighed.

"I guess I deserve that."

"No you don't. I'm sorry. I know you were looking for that thing that killed Mom. Sammy demanded enough from you, I just didn't want to cause any more trouble. I didn't want you to think I couldn't take care of Sam. I could. I can. I never let anyone touch him."

"And I am so proud of you for always watching out for him. You do a great many things that make me proud of you, but why couldn't you just trust me with this? Why not just say something? How many times did I leave you guys with Larry? Dozens? Damn it Dean!"

"I'm sorry. I know he's a friend and now this complicates things. I never wanted you to find out. I never wanted anyone to find out. He's a great asset to the hunt, don't let this ruin that."

Dean was not expecting the choked out watery laugh that barked from his dad's throat. He wasn't expecting the tears in his dad's eyes, either. Dad didn't do emotions. They were useless. They were for the weak and helpless.

"I don't care how much of an asset he is son. This is not ok. This is not a price I was ever willing to pay!"

John watched as Dean shrank away from him.

"I'm sorry. You told me to protect Sam and I did. I don't regret that. I don't understand why you're so angry."

The explosion died on his lips as John realized that Dean really had no clue. The kid couldn't understand that the anger was for all the injustice that had been done to him.

"I never told you to look after yourself, did I? Where's that beer when you need it?"

Dean watched as John disappeared through the door. It was going to take more than a beer to drown this. Maybe some of Bobby's old rotgut would suffice. Why did he have to fuck everything up? Damn it!