Dean slept through to nightfall and was still out when John decided to call it a night and follow his sleeping son's example. Checking that Dean was still dead to the world, John ducked into the bathroom for a quick shower before bed.
When he got out twenty minutes later, he was just in time to see Dean start from sleep and struggle to a semi-upright position in bed.
John knew his boys and their nightmares, too.
"Dean?"
Dean wouldn't look up at his father. He kept his eyes downcast, locked on the sheets, as he took in quick, deep breaths.
John started toward Dean.
Dean seemed to sense it and forestalled John with a hasty, "No, I'm okay."
"You don't look okay."
"Just… clown dreams, you know?" Dean said dryly.
John remembered how that would have made Sam laugh. It worked to deter the youngest of the Winchester clan, but John was not so easily derailed.
Now a few steps closer, John could see a sheen of sweat on Dean's brow. John frowned and moved forward to check Dean for fever.
Without once lifting his eyes, Dean turned away from John's advance and lay down on the bed with his back to his father. "Dad… towel."
That made the older hunter falter. John was still standing around in his towel from his shower.
By the time John pulled on a pair of underwear and shirt for bed, Dean was drifting off again, probably by sheer force of will to avoid another confrontation, and John didn't have it in him to pull Dean from it. Dean clearly needed rest.
But John didn't like how Dean wouldn't even look at him.
To Be Continued…