Chapter 21: Dad's Deal

"Dean, you're all I have," Dad said softly. When his head lifted, his eyes had an odd watery look. "I lost your mom. I pushed Sam away." He sighed heavily and extreme sorrow seeped through the guilt, settling over the guilt and pressing it out of the way. Dean felt tears well in his eyes at the oppressive emotion, an offending drop escaping to streak down his cheek.

"I thought I lost you," Dad told him in slow measured tones. "You've always..." His jaw clenched, a muscle jumping under the skin. "You're always there for me. I can't imagine..." A short laugh, harsh and bitter, broke out of Dad. "I can't even say it."

His head hung low again and turned from side to side. Dean waited, but Dad seemed to have run out of words. His emotions, however, churned more violently than Dean could ever remember except, maybe, right after Mom died. It was difficult to remember things from when he was little, but a few memories were sharp and clear, forever etched in his mind with precision detail. One night after Mom was gone, when it was just the three of them living in some dump of a motel, Dad sat in the floor holding a clear bottle full of brown stuff in his hands while he stared at the bed Dean shared with baby Sammy. Dean peered over the pillows surrounding them, there to keep Sammy safe in bed, to watch Dad. Tears poured from Dad's eyes and the expression on his face was...just like the one Dad wore now.

A shudder ran through his body at the memory. Even though he wouldn't have been able to put it into words, Dean was pretty sure this was how Dad felt that night too.

Crap. He couldn't even stay mad when he wanted.

Dean swung out of bed, landing lightly on his feet by his father. He dropped to one knee in order to draw Dad into a loose embrace, unsure how exactly this would play out. To his shock, Dad leaned into him, burying watery eyes in his shoulder. Not knowing what he was supposed to do, Dean did the only thing he could think of, he tightened his hold. Dad's hands, rough from years of hunting yet always gentle when checking for injuries or cleaning open wounds, fisted in the back of his shirt and pulled him in even closer.

"It's okay, Dad," Dean heard himself murmur comfortingly as his own cheeks grew wet. "It's all right." He rubbed one hand in large circles over Dad's back, trying to calm his father down. At least if Dad calmed down, he wouldn't have to feel this torrent of sorrow and despair. Being an empath could be downright depressing.

Now that the floodgates had opened, John was powerless to close them. They had threatened to burst the night he saw Dean fall, the night he had believed Dean was...gone. Dean should be furious with him, probably was, but his son held him and whispered comforting phrases while he fell apart.

Finally John managed to pull himself together enough to wipe the tears from his face and pull away from his son, though the act of loosening Dean's hold nearly killed him. He held on with one hand, unwilling to let Dean go far.

"We never deserved you," he choked out.

Surprise flashed across Dean's face. "What?" His head shook before John could answer. "Come on, Dad. The floor is killing me."

Dean made him sit on the bed, one strong arm over his shoulders. John wanted to lean into it, to bury his face in his son's shoulder again, but pride prevented it this time. He was supposed to be the parent here, and there were a few things his son needed to know.

John scrubbed both hands over his face, trying to hold it together long enough to explain.

"You've always been there for me," John said slowly. "You took care of me, Dean, and you shouldn't have had to do that."

"Dad-" Dean began to protest, but John shook his head and his son fell silent.

"You took care of me and Sammy. Both of us. And we never appreciated it, Dean. We took you for granted. You know, I remember..." John swallowed hard as a few more tears trekked down his cheeks. He brushed them away with the back of his hand. "I'd come home from a hunt and be just wrecked, from the things I'd seen. And you, you'd come up, put a hand on my shoulder, you'd look me in the eye and tell me, "It's okay, Dad."" He chewed his lower lip. "I'm sorry, Dean."

His son looked genuinely confused and startled. Good God, had he leaned so hard on Dean that the boy thought this was the way his life was supposed to be?

"For what, Dad?" Dean asked gently.

He felt the tears threatening again. "You did all that," John choked out, "and never complained. Not once." He swallowed hard. "You never should've had to do that, Dean. Not any of it. That's my fault."

Dean frowned and shook his head. "Dad, are you feeling all right? Maybe we should go see Hank."

John drew in a deep breath as he turned to face his oldest. He gripped Dean by both shoulders and held on tight. "That night when you came to find me, I thought I'd lost you to the things we hunt. I couldn't believe what a failure I had been. I blamed myself for not paying enough attention, for taking it for granted that you would always be on my side, for..." He shook his head, unwilling to give voice to the rest of the idiotic things he had been thinking that horrible night. "Then you fell."

John swallowed hard, the memory as sharp and clear as broken shards of glass, his emotions from that night just as horrible and frightening as if it were happening now.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't know what I was doing. Believe me, if I could take it back, I would," Dean assured him, the innocence on his face making him appear so damned young.

"No," John whispered. "I got what I deserved, son. Exactly what I deserved." He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering the strength to continue without dissolving into an emotional mess again. When he opened his eyes he found Dean staring at him curiously. "I deserved to see what it felt like to lose you, because I never considered it before. All those times I used you as bait, that I led you into situations without telling you all the facts, not once did I ever consider the possibility you wouldn't walk out of there with me. Not once." He shifted his hands from his son's shoulders to frame his face, to force Dean to look him in the eye. "I guess maybe I thought of you as indestructible."

Now Dean's face split in a grin with a chuckle. "That's not me, that's you, Dad." But there was still indecision in those mossy green eyes when John dropped his hands back to the broad shoulders which had held too many burdens.

"I don't think it's either of us," John admitted reluctantly. "And I don't want you hunting alone. You can take the lead, sometimes, but from now on I want you to have back-up. Your Professor friend has been hounding me about it for the past week. He seems to think you're too valuable to risk out hunting at all." He gave his son a sad smile. "But I told him I wouldn't order you to quit, that's your call."

Dean shook his head. "I don't want to quit, Dad. You know that. Saving people, killing things, it's the family business."

John smiled as he noted Dean held saving people above the rest. "I really don't deserve a son like you."

Dean squirmed like a little kid, clearly unable to handle a little praise. "It's kind of creepy to hear you talking like this, Dad."

"Get used to it," John snapped. "It's how I should've been talking to you your whole life. I can't fix the past, but I can change now." He ran a hand up the back of Dean's head, ruffling the short strands as best he could. "I'll probably screw up a lot, start sounding the way I used to, but I promise to work on it. Just...don't die on me. Deal?"

He waited for an answer but Dean sat there with a bewildered and nearly vacant look on his face. "Deal?" he pressed, squeezing his son's shoulders.

"You're going to keep seeing him, aren't you?" Dean asked, stiffness creeping into his shoulders.

God, Dean normally asked for so little. "I'd like to," John admitted. "But I won't if you don't want me to." He wet his lips before making his request. "Before you make up your mind, why don't you meet him?"

Dean's eyes bugged out. "Meet him? Why the hell would I want to meet the kid you've actually taken to a ballgame?"

Oh, crap. "You might like him, Dean. He's a good kid." John shrugged. "He's not you, of course."

Dean's eyes rolled, a much more natural gesture. "Okay, enough already." He let out a large sigh. "I don't know, Dad. I'll have to think about it."

"But our deal?" John pressed. "I was serious about that."

The oh-so familiar lop-sided grin appeared, instilling hope in John. "The one where you're going to be nice if I don't die?" He chuckled. "Yeah, okay, sure thing, Dad. Now go to your room. I need sleep."

John stared at his son for a moment before grabbing him in another bear-hug. He was gratified when Dean returned it instead of trying to squirm away. John returned to his room hoping tomorrow would be a much, much, much better day.

Dean had enough time to stretch out in bed again when there was a knock at his door. Jesus, now what?

"Who is it?" he demanded without bothering to sit up.

"Logan," came the gruff answer.

Dean rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "It's not locked."

The door opened with a whine of the hinges, Logan stepping into the room still dressed in jeans and a work shirt. "Hey, kid," he said as he closed the door behind him. "So." Logan turned to face him. "How are, uh, things?"

Dean glared at him, feeling Logan's emotions ranged from pissed off to concerned. "You heard the whole thing with Dad, didn't you?" he guessed.

"I got good ears," Logan replied with a shrug. "So talk."

With a groan, Dean swung his legs off his bed yet again this evening. So much for a good night's sleep. "About?"

Now he was on the receiving end of a nasty glare. "Kid, you just found out you got another little brother. Don't that bother you at least?"

"Logan," he said on a sigh, "I'm totally exhausted. The last thing I want to think about is... Holy crap. I have another brother?" Dean's eyes snapped to Logan's. "Shit, I never thought about it like that. As if Sam weren't enough to deal with." He collapsed back on his bed, feet still planted firmly on the floor. "Well this is just frigging wonderful."

"You said Sam don't exactly talk to you," Logan said slowly. "This kid could be different."

Dean lifted one hand to rub over his face. "Dude, I can't think about this any more today. It's just too much."

"Yeah, well, I'm next door." He heard the squeak of the hinges. "You don't have to yell loud."

"Obviously," Dean mumbled.

"I heard that!" Logan said through the closed door.

Dean couldn't help smiling to himself. Being a freaky mutant wasn't so bad with guys like Logan around. He had no idea what to do with Dad's roller-coaster emotions right now, which were partially his fault, but it was pretty clear that he would have to figure it out because Dad wasn't going anywhere. Feeling more relief at the realization than he thought he would, Dean stretched out on the bed again. Maybe now he would be able to sleep.

Dean opened his eyes to bright light shining from under his door. People were up. He rolled over to grab his cell to see the time. Eleven? As in, he slept through the morning? Not believing the digital read-out, Dean slammed it against his palm a few times.

"No way," he muttered. "Crap!" He jumped out of bed, yanking his shirt from yesterday off. After swiping hurriedly at his underarms and applying fresh deodorant, he pulled on a fresh shirt. Dean opened his door to an empty hallway and sunlight streaming in from the stairwell. Crap, he really had overslept. A loud grumble from his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten since last night.

Making a bee-line for the kitchen, Dean realized halfway down the staircase that he was still in his socks. Well, hell, shoes would wait for after breakfast or, uh, brunch. Nah, only sissies ate brunch. He could skip straight to lunch.

No one was eating lunch this early and the cooks were still preparing the meal but Dean really couldn't wait. Not only was his stomach bitching and complaining, but he was kind of light-headed too. As he cut through the large cafeteria heading for the staff kitchen where he should be able to scrounge something up without being in the way, he heard his name, his real name.

"Dean!"

A glance over his shoulder revealed Dad hurrying over. Dean maintained his pace for the smaller side kitchen and waved a hand inviting Dad along. After watching his father dissolve into a mushy emotional wreck last night, it was good to see some normalcy this morning. Er- today. He hit the doors without slowing, bursting into the nearly empty staff kitchen. Hank was in there waiting on his tea to boil.

"Hunter," Hank greeted. "Where have you been? I missed you at breakfast."

"Overslept," Dean said as he yanked open the fridge. Oh, what was that? It smelled great and most of it was left. He snagged it with one hand and glanced around for where they kept the forks while kicking the door closed.

"Here," Hank offered, fork in hand.

"Awesome, thanks," Dean said as he made a grab for it. Oh, God, yes! It was sweet and creamy and delicious. "What is this stuff?" he mumbled around a mouthful.

"Cheesecake," Dad said in his normal deep voice, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Doc, since he's obviously planning on eating the whole thing, by himself, is that all right? Or do I need to find some real food for him?"

"First time you've eaten today?" Hank asked, his furry brow wrinkling up like one of those dogs with too much skin. Dean nodded, shoveling in more. "In that case, I would suggest finding foods high in carbohydrates and proteins for after dessert." He turned to look at Dad. "After not eating for over twelve hours, your son requires the sugar and fat for quick conversion to energy."

"On it," Dad said sharply, as if addressing a superior officer. It was weird to hear Dad taking orders, especially from someone with blue freaking fur. Dean chuckled as he watched, setting his food down on the counter while he ate. Like a seasoned pro, Dad rummaged in the cabinets and refrigerator. He set out potatoes, bacon, onion, fresh bell peppers, butter and some seasonings. A skillet and cutting board appeared next. Dean continued to decimate the cheesecake (why hadn't he heard of this stuff before? It was awesome!) while watching Dad. First everything was washed before being set on the cutting board, except the bacon. Dad chopped up all the potatoes and some of the onion and bell peppers.

"My tea is ready and I have a lot of work to do. Gentlemen." With a nod of his head, Hank excused himself from the kitchen. Dean waved a full fork as Hank walked past.

Next Dad shifted his focus to the stove. He heated up the skillet. After cooking the bacon and laying it out on paper towels to absorb the grease, Dad poured the grease out into an empty can he found under the sink. Next he added all of his chopped ingredients to the hot sizzling skillet with plenty of butter. He sprinkled some seasonings over the whole mess before stirring it all up. Dean used his fork to scrape up the last remnants of the cheesecake while he watched. Dad seemed happy enough cooking away. There weren't any turbulent emotions or that horrible worry. After depositing his dirty dish in the dishwasher, Dean hopped up on the counter to sit and watch.

"Did you make this up?" Dean asked curiously.

"Huh?" Dad stirred his creation.

"I said, did you make this up?" Dean repeated.

Dad shook his head. "I was on a hunt in this little nothing town, you know the type. It took me about a week to figure out who was haunting the local school." He never turned around, maintaining his focus on the skillet. "Every morning I ate breakfast in the same diner, because it was the only one around. They called this breakfast potatoes."

"Have you ever cooked it before?" Dean asked.

"Just for me," Dad replied with a shrug. He grabbed the bacon, which had been cooling on the counter, to crumble over the sizzling potatoes. "You and Sammy were into the Lucky Charms about then."

Dean chuckled. "Sammy always got the last freaking bowl, too. I think he knew when I'd been saving it."

Dad paused to look thoughtfully over his shoulder at Dean. "Really?"

Dean nodded with a grin. It was nice hanging out with Dad like this and it felt like a huge weight had been removed from his shoulders. He could breathe easily. Before he knew it, Dad was handing him a plate and a clean fork.

"It'd suck mixed with that cheesecake," Dad explained, using one hand to hop up and sit on the counter next to Dean. "Go ahead. Try it."

Dean stabbed a large chunk of potato with his fork to place tenderly in his mouth since it was steaming hot. He chewed gingerly until it cooled to the temperature of his tongue. "Mmmm," he mumbled. "Not bad."

Dad snorted before taking a bite himself. "It's perfect," Dad stated defensively with a cheek full of potato. "You know, we're going to have to replace that cheesecake." He motioned to the dishwasher.

Dean eyed his father apprehensively. "How?"

"The grocery store," Dad said giving him an odd look. "You know they sell stuff like that there, right?"

Dean shrugged as his fork dove back to his plate. "Oh, that reminds me, I need to buy shampoo. You can buy that there too, right?"

Dad's plate lowered slowly to his lap. "Son, you are messing with me. Right?"

Dean shrugged as he shoveled in more food. "Uh, yeah. Sure." He swallowed what was in his mouth before asking his next question. "So I need to go to the, uh, shampoo store?"

One of Dad's hands lifted to rub at his forehead. "I'll go with you to the store after your class. Show you around."

"Usually I just use what the motel has," Dean tried to explain. "I don't shop many places other than the gas station convenience store. Logan's sharing his with me, but he's about out, so I owe him a bottle too."

A new guilt, one Dean had not felt before, came from his father. "Dean, I said I'd show you around the store later. Now eat before you pass out."

"Yes, sir." As he ate, he noticed a new emotion from Dad, this one of barely suppressed amusement. "What is it, Dad?"

Dad grinned broadly and shook his head. "I can't wait to show you the frozen foods aisle."

"Why?" he asked. "What's the big deal with ice cream?"

Dad shook his head again. "It's not the food, son. It's the fact you haven't been shopping there." He chuckled lightly. "Believe it or not, it's a great place to meet women."

Dean looked at his father in disbelief. "Now you're messing with me, right?"

Dad laughed with a huge smile. "Son, it's good to know that I still have a few things to teach you." Dad tossed him a wink and Dean puzzled over his father's good mood. Well, maybe he hadn't been the only one who needed a decent night's sleep.

John really wanted to ask if Dean had thought about meeting Adam, but between Dean's good mood this morning and his own, he couldn't force himself to bring it up and potentially spoil things. Instead he focused on the here and now, sitting with his son and enjoying a really late breakfast.