New Chapter...sorry if its a little long. There is a gift at the end for all you fine readers. Now...about the spoiler I apperntly let rip...sorry if i ticked anyone off. I'll be more careful in the future. But i do still plan to obliterate someone in fiction.

He always thought he knew everything about his father. He had never taken off his wedding ring…not even once. He wore a size 11 ½ wide shoe. He knew his father cried every year on his childrens birthdays. He took his coffee with cream. He shaved his face from right to left, although really he preferred a beard because it aided in anonymity. He loved Sam more than he ever let on. Reality sacred him. But Dean was realizing that maybe all of these things didn't mean he knew his father, just that they had become comfortable with each other as adults and revealed intimate parts of themselves. He didn't think he knew the hunter who asked him to kill his own brother. He felt like he had never met this man who had denied him his dying wishes. He was sure he had never become acquainted with this person who had laid the weight of the world on his shoulders and never even blinked. Sure John always relied on Dean to take care of he and Sammy, but what he had done to Dean now was more than Dean could deal with. He just didn't want to believe that his father had done what he did.

"So, if they bind their souls, does that mean that if one of them dies the other one will too?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"The binding of their souls will not damn either. Their choices are still their own. Repercussions will be felt only by the offending soul. What we do here today will hurt no one, only help." Rougon tried to speak reassuringly as he pulled a stick of incense, a small blade, and more herbs from his satchel.

"What are you going to do?" Dean spoke up.

"You and your father will share blood, literally".

"You're not going to hurt him", Sam stepped in front of Dean in a show of possession and protection.

"Calm yourself Samuel", Rougon waved a hand in front of Sam. "You father and brother will share a sanctified blood bond to seal the incantation and bind their souls. I assure you, no harm will be brought to anyone".

"Sit down Sammy. It's okay", Sam could feel Deans hand on his arm. When he looked back at his brother sitting on the edge of the bed next to their father, he saw trust in Dean's eyes and had to believe him.

"Now", Rougon started as he lit the incense and used the end to stab the apple in front of him. "John and Dean, please take each others hands".

The two elder Winchesters did as told. The Priest closed his eyes and started more of his nearly inaudible ramblings.

De nos jours… vieux garcon… pere… amier… ame (in our time…son…father…love…soul)

The Priest reached forward and picked up the blade. Sam watched him carefully, shifting his weight back and forth. Rougon took Dean and John's joined hands and parted them. The blade came slowly down to John's palm first. He didn't slice the skin, but pricked it to draw a small round swell of blood. He carefully did the same to Dean before pressing their hands back together. He continued on to take the ashes that had fallen from the incense and parting the hands where blood had mingled, he mixed the ash in, continuing his chanting. Then he suddenly pulled John's shirt open and placed Dean's bloodied hand over his father's chest.

Amener…avoir besion…recevoir…ame…deux virer un…amier (take…in need…receive…soul…two become one…love)

Dean's eyes snapped shut and John's flew wide open. Dean was accepting his father's soul as a part of him and with his soul, came all of the truths that John hid from the world. He couldn't breathe as he was assaulted. Images flashed in front of Dean. Images that comforted him, images that hurt his own heart, and images that terrified him.

When the flood stopped Dean could finally breathe again and he dropped his hand.

"We are done here", Rougon spoke softly. "Please do not take for granted how precious what you share is. Strong hearts joined as a strong family. You must always believe in each other and trust one another".

And then, as quietly as Rougon Bishop came into their lives, he walked out.

"Thanks Bishop", John called to the door as he gathered himself and buttoned his shirt.

Rougon turned and smiled a comforting smile and spoke softly in his native language. The words fell from his lips and to the unknowing Winchesters it sounded kind.

"Fou fils de putain (crazy son of a bitch)".

John just smiled back, believing it was a kind parting or some sort of blessing. Yeah

Sam went into protection mode instantly. He started looking over Dean and wiping the blood from his hand. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah", he was hesitant, not looking at his brother. "Can you give me and Dad a minute?"

"Yeah sure. I'll go find Missouri and Bobby", he touched the top of his brother's hand then turned and left.

Dean looked down at the red stain on his hand and then slowly let his eyes fall on his father. He knew things now that his father had known all along. Things his father had lied to others about under the pretense of being completely honest. He knew things about Sammy and Mary. He knew too much and still not enough.

"Dad?"

John turned to Dean.

"What happened when I was three?"

John knew instantly what Dean was referring to. "No son, you were four. Your mother died when you were four", he dodged.

"That's not what I'm talking about Dad". Dean's eyes welled with anger and frustration as he pulled at a lone string on his blanket. "With mom and me and…what was wrong with me? What happened?"

"I don't know what you're talking about Dean. Maybe you should rest for a little while", John reached out to run his hand along his son's cheek. But Dean jerked away.

"I saw dad. Now tell me what happened".

John took a deep breath and weighed his options. Dean was grown, he had saved his fathers soul…he could tell him now.

"You were a few weeks shy of your third birthday and up to that point everything had been fine. You were a good baby, a happy toddler. You were always so full of energy and laughing constantly. Your mother loved you more than she loved me. I'd never seen her as happy as when she was taking care of you". John rubbed the graying beard on his chin and looked down as he continued.

"Then one day the laughing stopped and we weren't sure why. We'd ask and you never told us anything was wrong. So your mother took you to the pediatrician who sent you to a specialist". A tear came to John's eye and fell into the stubble on his cheek. "When I got home that night your mother was sitting in the dark, holding you and rocking you. There were pamphlets all over the floor around the rocker. When I asked her what was wrong, she wouldn't say anything, she just started crying and holding you tighter to her body. So I turned on the lights and picked up one of the pamphlets and I understood".

"What? What was it Dad?" Dean urged him to continue.

"The doctor told your mother you had cancer. Lymphoma. He didn't give her much hope that you'd live to see four years old", John explained.

"Holy shit", Dean gasped.

"Now, I didn't know about anything she had done till about a year ago", John prefaced. "She had a friend who was…well…Victoria was into dark arts and things. They got together one night and she taught your mother how to summon a demon. And when she did, the yellow eyed demon showed up".

John took a deep breath and stared Dean in the eye as he spoke now. "She made a deal to save you. He only told her that one day he would come to collect and that she wouldn't be able to deny him what he asked".

"Mom", Dean mumbled.

"She never knew he would ask for Sammy. Never thought he would kill her and make him a psychic. Your mother was a good woman. She never meant for any of this to happen".

Dean thought of his mother and all the trips they'd take around Lawrence when he was younger. Looking back now he thought he could remember the trip to the doctors office and the way Mary had smothered and coddled him in the dark as she cried. He felt sure in his heart that she would have told him when he was old enough to understand. But not his father.

"So you never told me that I was mysteriously healed of terminal cancer? You never thought to tell me or Sam that mom had a friend like that? And you knew…you knew for the last year about all of this". Dean was screaming now, arms flying around, head bobbing. "I have been driving around for the last twelve months with Sam trying to figure out why he has these visions, why he is the way he is, why his life is ruined. And all along you knew. You knew and you saw what it was doing to both of us and you never said anything".

Dean hung his head, trying to make his decision, then looked back up to his father.

"I want you to leave. I don't need you here and God knows Sam never has", Dean stood up and pointed to the door. "Get out and don't come back here. If you really believe that you care you'll leave us alone".

"Dean…" John stepped forward.

It came down so hard and fast and unexpected. Dean reared back and swung a powerful right hook that landed square on his fathers jaw, knocking him to the floor. John inched back, a palm to his face, then stood on shaking legs. He stared Dean in the eye and saw the resolve and obstinence he had taught his son, and knew he had no choice. He turned back to the chair and picked up jacket then moved to the door. He opened it and stood defeated in the threshold. "I'm sorry son", he whispered, then disappeared.

Dean was sitting quietly on the edge of his bed facing the window when Sam came through the door with Dr. Naylor.

"Hey, Missouri and Bobby said they'd be back tomorrow", Sam called his attention, "Where's Dad?"

Dean cleared his throat, "He left for a while. What's going on?"

Sam thumbed at Naylor.

"I want to do a scan and then we need to talk about that stint we put in", Naylor told Dean.

Dean reached back and touched the back of his head, feeling the thin bump at the base of his skull, "yeah okay".

Sam thought his brother looked a little flush, "You alright Dean?"

"Yeah…always", Dean offered his brother one of his trademark grins.

"Okay", Naylor interrupted. "Lets get you down to radiology and have a look and then we can get things going".

Dean stood up and pulled the IV stand around the bed. He was headed fo rhte door when Naylor stopped him in his tracks. "Sorry Dean. You've got to ride in a wheelchair. Hospital policy."

"I can do that". Dean was already weak in the knees, drained by his emotions, and put up no fight.

A nurse appeared with a chair and took Dean away. He was gone for thirty minutes before he was brought back to Sam. The doctor left him to go and look over the results.

"Where'd Dad go off to? I wanted to talk to him about getting the colt back". Sam was talking but Dean wasn't really listening. "Hello? Dean? Are you listening to me?"

Dean didn't meet his brother's eyes. He just climbed back into the bed he had been confined to not so long ago. He rolled over on his side and closed his eyes. "I'm tired Sam. Just let me sleep".

Sam heard the defeated tone in his brothers voice and his own heart fell. "Yeah, absolutely. You should get some rest".

Sam dropped into the chair next to the bed, feeling a little like they were back peddling, and used his phone to call his father. But as usual, John didn't answer, it just rolled over to the voicemail.

Dean had fallen asleep and into another dream. This one far less cryptic than any of the others. He was in the house in Lawrence, watching Mommy stir a pot of something hot. A man in a dark coat came into the kitchen and sat down next to Dean. There were tears in Mommy's eyes as the man touched Deans chest. Dean saw himself perk up instantly. Mommy yelled for the man to leave and the man hit Mommy, telling her that the price had just gone up. He reached out and touched Mommy's stomach, laughing manically before he disappeared.

"I don't know what you and that strange man were doing in here earlier, and I almost don't believe it, but you're fine Dean. No edema, no bleed. You are dare I say, one of the healthiest men I've seen in a long time."

Dean hadn't said anything since he'd woken up. Sam wanted to believe that his brother was tired form all of the things he'd been through, but something just wasn't right. Dean had woken up with a start and wouldn't tell Sam anything. Right now all Sam wanted to do was get his brother out of there and get back to being themselves.

"So", Naylor interrupted again, "what are you doing tomorrow?"

"Excuse me?" Dean asked, confused by the man's odd question.

"The stint still needs to be removed. I can get you back in the OR tomorrow morning around seven. If you're not busy". Naylor was trying to be funny but Dean wasn't laughing and Sam wasn't even looking at him. "It'll only take about an hour and you'll be out before you know it".

"That's fine", Dean said.

Sam was a little surprised that Dean didn't look to him before he made the decision, but it was ultimately Dean's choice, so he went with what his brother wanted.

"Alright. The nurse will come for you around six and I'll see you at seven". Naylor nodded at the boys in salutation and left.

"You hungry? We can get you some real food. Maybe a burger?" Sam asked.

"Sure, that's fine". Sam had expected Dean to jump at the chance to have some solid food.

"Are you sure you're okay Dean?"

"I'm just tired Sam". Dean looked up to see worry written all over Sam's face. He could see Sam wavering. "But maybe I'll feel better after I eat something".

Sam perked up immediately. "Good. Cheeseburger, right?" Sam asked as he slipped his jacket on and dug the keys to the Ford out.

"Sure", Dean said, smiling his best 'do what Sammy needs you to do' smile. "Just wake me up when you get back".

And Sam left.

Dean was alone with the truth he knew. He had to make some decisions, and it had to be soon. Should he tell Sam what he knew…what their father knew? Could he tell Sammy what John had asked him to do or that he had sent their father away? He turned it over in his brain over and over. But in the end, his heart made the decision. He thought about Sam and what the kid meant to him and how he would handle all of this and weather or not Dean could pull him through.

Sam left the hospital on a high, happy thoughts running through his head. Dean's gonna live. Score one for the good side. Demon doesn't get my best friend. He was being careful, driving five below the speed limit and minding the ice warnings on the radio. The road was narrow and he watched the shoulders and driveways carefully. That's when he saw his father's truck parked in front of a cheap motel that shared its parking lot with a truck stop. He had anger in his heart for his father, anger over the deal he had made and the fact that he had put that weight on Dean's shoulders. But his family had just been reunited, his fathers soul was saved, and his brother was going to live. So he pulled off. He was thinking John should come back to the hospital with him…they could all eat dinner together. Like the old days.

Sam parked the whale-of-a-sedan and knocked on the motel door. When knuckles met wood, he called his father, "Dad. It's me, let me in." He waited but no answer came, so he knocked again, harder this time. He called his father by his name, "John! Open the door".

Something caught in Sam's chest, he felt a river of cold and fear wash over him. He looked into the lone window on the room and realized the shades were not drawn. That's not like Dad. He saw a line of salt on the sill and let out a deep breath. He banged again on the door and received no answer from the other side. He suddenly felt a wave of 'Dean' hit him. He stepped back and kicked the door in.

The salt line in front of the door had been broken…kicked. He felt his heart race and sweat poor down his brow, despite the bitter cold that surrounded him. He had no gun, he'd opted not to carry a piece while he was in the hospital with Dean. Shit. He pulled his pocket knife out of his jeans and whipped it open, the brand name 'Winchester' emblazoned on the handle. He crept slowly around the duffels on the floor and the door that hung loosely from the doorframe.

He held the knife in the air, just above his chest in a defensive position as he stepped around the end of the queen size bed.

"Holy Shit! Dad!" Sam dropped his knife and lunged to the floor. He wrapped long arms around his father's shoulders and pulled him close. "Dad? Come on, look at me Dad! You gotta open your eyes Dad!"

But John didn't. Sam just kept calling his father's name and shaking him in an effort to rouse him. But John didn't answer him and Sam could feel that familiar sense of loss and darkness creeping into his heart again.

OMG – WTF!! (By the way, I want a license plate that says that). I swore I wouldn't kill John and now you're all mad and steam is coming out of your ears! Put the chair down, don't throw it! And please…bring no harm to your computers! I didn't do it. He's not dead…but I know you all thought he was. I said I wouldn't do it. I won't do it. Everyone breathe.

But that was fun, right? The shock, the horror, the anger. Sorry, I had to do it. But at least I told you!!

So maybe two more chapters. I just couldn't get out all I wanted to say in this chapter so I need an extra one! Hope you like it! Please send me reviews…they make my muse happy. And when my muse is happy he dies this little dance and…well…we all remember who my muse looks like right?

And last…Jumper thinks its great that I speak Cajun French and English and says its cool I can drop some in my story. So I am going to teach him to say certain phrases and I thought you guys might enjoy it too! So here are some SUPERNATURAL/DEAN & SAM appropriate words in my (other) native tounge.

Son of a bitch – Fils de putain (cause it's Dean's favorite expression)

Ghost – revenant

Werewolf – rougarou

Rock salt – sel de roc

Happy Hunting!! You guys rock!!