Chapter Ten.

They'd spent the night at Bobby's in favour of a motel, Dean spread across the sofa with his eyes closed and a pack of ice pressed to his face, Bobby trawling through his vast library of the supernatural for mythology on tricksters and John sitting quietly, staring off into space.

"You don't want to go after this thing?" Bobby had asked in quiet incredulousness, both men making sure that Dean was asleep before continuing their talk. Despite knowing something had gone on back at the house Dean had yet to properly ask, although as with almost everything else they knew it was only a matter of time before he did.

John had sighed,

"Bobby – ," the truth was John wanted to rip the thing to shreds for putting Dean through what it had, for the being the cause of even the tiniest bruise on his son, but at the same time John had to admit it had given him one hell of an opportunity. Dean was a capable hunter, he'd known that – it had practically been his life's work – but he'd always seen his eldest son as his back up, the steady pair of hands behind his. The chance to see Dean on his own had been in many ways a terrible blessing and as the hours had rolled by John had begun to feel like a burden was being lifted from his shoulders. Now was his chance to do what he'd always said he was going to. Now was his moment to dedicate himself fully to the hunt for the yellow-eyed demon, which for just over twenty years had sat buried beneath fatherhood and hunting, calling out to him for retribution.

He had nothing else he could teach his sons. They no longer needed him.

"You going to give him the banshee case?" Bobby had asked instead, interpreting the silence. He knew John well enough to know what he was thinking, knew the voracity with which he read reports of nursery fires, the obsessiveness that lead him to link them and track them. Ever since Mary Winchester had died John had been preparing himself for the final battle with her killer. With Dean heading off on his own he would finally get that chance. Maybe he would wait a month, maybe he would wait a year, but one day John Winchester was going to disappear.

"Yeah," had come the reply, low and weary as John turned his head to take in his sleeping son, wondering just when the years had started to fly by so quickly and at what point Dean had stopped being a child and turned into the man lying before him. Probably sooner than was right – that was almost a given. No wonder Sam had started to rebel too, that boy had been watching Dean his whole life and his mutiny was probably as much on his older brother's behalf as his own. It was probably also why Dean had refused to take sides and why he'd continued to be his brother's keeper even throughout the fiercest of the arguments. John had sighed heavily, shaking his head in disbelief, "When did I get to be so blind Bobby?"

There had been no answer, only words of comfort.

"You love those boys and no matter what they say, they love you. You've always done your best for them John, no one could ask for anything more."

But they were hollow words when he knew that his best hadn't always been good enough. Sometimes it had been nowhere near and yet there lay Dean, still with him. For a little while longer at least.

"You got the girl back home?" John had asked absently in the silence, suddenly remembering the shaken blonde from earlier in the day, the final hurdle that had apparently been Dean's finest hour. Bobby had nodded,

"Yep, if you could call it that."

"What do you mean?"

"Only wanted me to see her as far as the lawn, wouldn't go inside 'til I'd left. She said she was posting leaflets for some neighbourhood church group, what's why she was at the house, only I didn't see any pamphlets inside and let's face it, we were in that damn entrance hall a bunch of times."

That much was undeniable. John had looked at him,

"Trickster?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," A flash of annoyance had followed, "Some day I'm going to get that son of a bitch, you mark my words."

John had smiled wearily,

"Consider then marked."

"And I suppose I'd better tell someone about Clyde, although what that damn thing did to him is anyone's guess. Looks like we got off lucky."

"For now."

Bobby hadn't been listening,

"What in the hell was Clyde thinking anyway? Taking some girl on a hunt with him? I'd have half a mind to kill him myself if I'd known that…"

It had taken another five minutes and then John had fallen asleep in sympathy with his son, Bobby's grumpy mutterings still audible over the crackle of the comfortingly warm fire. In the morning he was going to have to let Dean go, but for the first time in his life the thought was mixed with a fragment of hope instead of blind fear.

It would be fine, which was what he was still telling himself the next morning as he watched Dean checking through the inventory in his trunk, still unaware that his own independence was imminent.

John and Bobby stood on the porch, talking quietly, the older hunter holding a handful in notes in one hand.

"Hey Dean?" John called after a brief pause, beckoning his son over with a tilt of his head and watching him comply instantly, "Bobby's got a new hunt,"

"Banshee. Minnesota."

Dean took the notes quietly, eyes skimming over the details before nodding slowly,

"Real nasty critters," Bobby continued from beside him, "But easy enough to get rid of in the right hands."

He exchanged a look with John, the move not going unnoticed by Dean.

"O-kay," he offered slowly, eyes flicking between them, "Why do I get the feeling there's more to this than you're telling me?"

"It's a straight forward case son," Bobby replied instead, neither answering nor denying his question. Dean sighed heavily, realising that whatever the secret was, it was going to remain unspoken for a while longer.

"Fine," he turned to John brightly, folding the papers and tucking them into his jacket, "We heading there now? Because I could really do with a burger before I kill anything else."

"That's up to you," John replied cryptically as Dean slammed down the lid of the trunk, hands resting on the bodywork as he frowned in confusion at the two men standing before him,

"What's going on here?" he asked in bemusement, "You doing a two-man tribute to the Riddler or something?"

Picking up his few belongings, Dean hauled them onto the backseat of the Impala, turning in continued bewilderment to watch as his father stood seemingly glued to Bobby's front porch.

"Dad, you coming?"

"Not this time."

"What?" He'd heard all right but for a moment he wasn't sure he had because what it very much sounded like was that he was getting his own job, which couldn't possibly be true since just the day before they'd had a blazing row about the very same thing and the subsequent impossibility of it happening. It also begged another question. Just what the hell had happened in that house? "You're…not coming?"

"No."

Dean was still struggling,

"So that means – ,"

"Oh for God's sake boy!" Bobby interrupted with an infuriated smile, "You're getting your own damn job all right? Now get out of here and do it before the thing gets bored of waiting to be killed."

Abruptly the grin that had been threatening to form on John's face broke out across it and he laughed, throwing in a shake of his head for good measure. Those two…

"Dad?"

Dean was looking at him, asking for permission, looking for the order to be released. John nodded.

"Go on son,"

The pride that swelled across Dean's face was like he'd been given a thousand Christmas' at once, only he wasn't a kid anymore and his own sense of pride didn't even amount to a fraction of what John felt. Dean nodded once, a formal acceptance of his task, eyes shining with excitement.

"Yes sir."

As he climbed into the driver's seat John almost shouted don't let me down after him, before abruptly realising that even in the unlikely event of Dean failing he could never let him down.

"Any problems you phone okay?" Bobby was yelling through the closed window, stepping towards the car with an apparently last minute list of instructions, "In fact you phone me problems or not. I don't hear anything from you I'm going to come down there and kick your ass myself, y'hear?"

Dean was grinning through the window, starting up the engine and miming in exaggerated terms that he couldn't hear a word the older hunter was yelling.

"Boy – ," Bobby growled, only getting within a hand's reach of the car before Dean threw it into reverse and slid out of grasping-range.

As he drove away from them Dean offered back one last look, earning a confident nod from John. He was going to be fine, it was no longer just a mantra it was the truth. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he'd finally done the right thing for both of his sons even though each decision had half-killed him at the time.

Sighing angrily Bobby came to stand beside him, shaking his head at the disappearing car and one last reminder on his lips,

"And don't fall through any damn porches either you idjit!"

Yeah, Dean was going to be just fine.

Well there you go, happy endings all round!

If anyone's been keeping up with this I'd love to know what you thought and to everyone that has already reviewed you've been lovely and I've appreciated every single comment – as always!

Back to business with the two boys again in the next few days, so look out for that. In the meantime, peace out everybody and happy readings!