Disclaimer: I don't own anything, least of all The WB's Supernatural.
Author Note: Sorry it took so long to update, and I know this one is a little shorter than the others, but I'll try to have the next chap up soon, maybe even tonight. Maybe. Of course I should point out that when I get lots of reviews it inspires me more and helps me to getchaps up quicker. Hint hint. By the way, I only have a loose idea of where this is going, so if you have any suggestions or anything, or if there's more or less of something you want to see, whatever, let me know. Until then...on with the story!
"Ow!" Dean jumps up, his hand instinctively flying to the back of his head where a new dull throb has developed. It takes him only a fraction of a second to regain his senses, shake off the fog of sleep and turn quickly to see what exactly it was that hit him. Upon turning though he sees something that causes the adrenaline to fade from his veins, and all the color to leave his face.
"Dad?" Sam too is now standing, just behind Dean. Both men face their father and though they naturally recognize him, the look on his face is foreign to them. Anger, rage…something else too.
"What in the hell are you doing here?" he spits out at them. Neither answer, they simply stand in shock. John bends down and picks up the cell phone he recently flung at his son's head, and sets it back on the table where he found it. When he looks back at them his face is somewhat softened, the fury fading despite his desire to keep it burning. They shouldn't be here. What were they doing? What the hell did they think they were doing? Could none of his children do as they're told? Oh, he was angry, but there was something else he was feeling as well. Despite all of that a huge part of him was thankful to be looking into his sons' faces right now. He had missed them so.
"Dad?" Sam says again absently, and John glances at him, meets his eyes and lunges for him. Tears roll lazily down his cheeks as he embraces his son, reaching out for Dean as well and pulling him into the group hug. They found their father, or he found them. And so for a moment, one long yet seemingly fleeting moment, they allow themselves to feel relief, and more importantly, to feel his presence.
"What are you doing here?" John asks again, gruffly, as he pushes away from the tangle of arms. He wipes the tears from his face and Sam and Dean watch as anger again fills his features.
"Us?" Sam says, coming into some anger of his own. "What are you doing here?" He doesn't even attempt to mask the rage and bitterness in his voice. This man had alluded them for months, told them next to nothing about where he was, what he was doing, whether or not he was all right. And now that he was here, standing in front of him safe and sound, or alive and uninjured at least, he couldn't help but hate him for putting them through all of that fear and worry. Not to mention the fact that he was hiding things from them and had been all along.
"Sam," Dean utters softly, a calming warning for his brother. Sam takes heed and turns so that he doesn't say anything more. Dean turns to his father. "Tessa was here," he says simply.
"Yeah, I know that. What – "
"She's missing. I guess. She's not here."
"I know that," John says again, clearly annoyed.
"We got a couple of weird emails from her and couldn't get a hold of her. So we tracked her down…to see if everything was okay."
"You boys are really developing a penchant for that, huh?" he says with a scoff.
Sam turns quickly, his eyes burning into his father's as he speaks. "She needs our help. Not everyone can develop a penchant for abandoning their family."
"What did you say to me?"
"Some of us actually want to be there for the people we love instead running the opposite direction."
"What – "
"Sam," Dean chimes in, the warning more forceful this time. But it does no good as both men ignore him and continue to berate each other. Their voices get louder as each tries to talk over the other.
"How dare you – "
"We get nothing for months – "
"You don't the first thing about – "
"And then you call and say…surprise! Nothing!"
"I had to stay away – "
"Nothing about where you are or…and this thing about a demon…"
"I had to keep you safe!"
"And you say you know, that's what did it, and you'll take care of it!"
"And I will! It's not you concern!"
"It killed my mother! It killed my girlfriend!"
"It's not safe! Damn it, why won't you listen to me!"
"Maybe because all you ever seem to do is lie!" Smack! The sound of Sam's head banging into the wall reverberates throughout the room and Dean jumps into action, trying to maneuver himself in between the two men as he works to loosen John's grip on Sam's collar. "What are you gonna do?" he asks through clenched teeth. "Hit me? Hit me!"
"Dad!" Dean screams as he continues to work the fabric of Sam's shirt out of his grasp.
"Selfish little punk," John spews. "It's all about you, isn't it?"
"I'm not the selfish one, you bastard."
"Hey!" Dean shoves his father, hard, and he loses his balance, bringing Sam down with him. He finally lets go of his shirt and they both look up at Dean from the floor, still fuming. "You're both fucking selfish!" he says jumping over his brother's leg and into the bathroom where he reaches down and grabs the towel soiled with Tessa's dried blood. He throws it down in between them, intent on making his point clear. "This isn't about either of you! That," he says, pointing at the towel, "is why we're here."
All three of them remain still, stuck in place for a number of minutes while they work things through in their minds, calm themselves down. Work to do, can't be emotional when there's work to do. Each of them think about this as they steady their breathing. John rises slowly and asks, "How much do you know?"
"Not enough," Sam says, anger still clearly evident in his voice. He gets up and moves to the bed, takes a seat and forces himself to push the emotion away. He takes a deep breath and lets out a long sigh. "We know she was on to something, about Mom maybe. And we know that someone or something was on to her."
John sits down on the bed, though careful not to be too close to Sam. "I told her to stop," he mumbles under his breath. Then more clearly, "She never listens."
"How'd you know she was here?" Dean asks, still leaning up against the doorjamb.
He takes a moment before answering, drops his face into his hands and moves slowly, running his fingers through his hair, pulling at it as he goes. He only wanted to keep them safe. That's why he didn't say anything. He just wanted his children to be safe. But now… "Baz told me."
There's silence as Sam and Dean exchange confused looks. They wait for their father to go on, but he doesn't, so Sam prompts him. "And Baz is…?
He looks up at his son, desperation in his eyes. Don't make me say it. Don't make me tell you this, the look says. He turns away before speaking. "He's an old friend, someone who's helped me out before, over the years."
"And Tessa knew him?"
"I've never heard of him," Dean says. He thought he knew all of his dad's contacts. Why wouldn't he share this one?
"I haven't talked to him in years," he says, as though that might explain why his sons knew nothing about him. "I don't know how she found out. I think it was almost an accident, just sort of stumbled across him. But that's why I told her not to get involved."
"Involved in what?" Sam asks. "Is this about mom? About Jess?"
"You know I never wanted any of you to get caught up in all of this. I knew from the beginning that it would be too dangerous. You're mother wouldn't have wanted it either; she'd want you safe."
Sam lets out an indignant snort. "She probably wouldn't have wanted us to put ourselves in danger fighting evil then either, now would she? But that never stopped you."
"No, it didn't," he says rather defeatedly. It's not the response Sam expected, no hint of anger or defensiveness. "I thought if you knew what was out there, if you knew how to protect yourselves, you'd be safe. I just wanted you to be safe."
"You said that already," Dean chimes in. "What about Tessa?"
"Oh," he says sighing, "you know your sister. She gets an idea in her head and runs with it. I think…I told her not to worry about it, not to look into Mary's death. At all. But I think, maybe because…I don't know…she felt like she had to."
"And she found something?"
"She found a lot of somethings."
"Things you already knew, or thing she told you about?"
"Both."
"Why did she leave?" Dean asks, suddenly changing the subject. "Why did she take off last year?"
"Because I told her to stop. She was getting too close and I told her to stop and she refused."
"So you let her leave?"
"What was I supposed do, Dean?"
"I don't know, not let her."
"I can't control her. I couldn't control Sam."
"You could have told me what was happening, what she was doing. I could have kept a closer eye on her…"
"I kept tabs on her, followed her sometimes even."
Sam shifts and turns to his father. "You two still talked? Did she tell you about what she found out?"
"Not at first. Then she spotted me in Mississippi. Like I said, I can't control her. I guess I figured if she was going to do this thing, well, I shouldn't let her do it alone. We compared notes. I wanted her to stay strictly on the research end, I'd do the actual investigating. But…"
"You two were working together," Dean says sneering. "Unbelievable. This whole time, you're out there and you don't tell me a damn thing, where you are, what you're doing. But her? I'm supposed to be your second in command. Me not her."
"This isn't the military, Dean."
"Bullshit! You raised us like that, always giving orders, orders that I always followed."
"So what, you're angry I didn't inform you of my mission," he says mockingly. "Consider it classified. Top secret covert operations."
Dean crosses his arms over his chest, shakes his head back and forth as a smile plays on his lips, an unbefuckinglievable smirk. And he tries to hold back the tears that sting at the back of his eyes. Betrayal. Lies. Sneaky bastards.
"Do you know where she is?" Sam asks as he tries to ignore his brother's plight, ignore the fact that he feels the same thing.
"No. Not now."
"But you talked to her? She called you when you were in Sacramento, right?"
John gives him a confused look. "No," he says slowly. "I haven't talked to her in weeks, not since she found out…" he stops short, lets his words trail off and hopes they don't notice.
"Found out what?" Sam asks excitedly. "Found out about the demon, the thing that killed them?"
"No," John says. "No, something else."
"What?"
He refuses to look at either of his sons as he speaks. "She found Baz…and he told her."
"Told her what, Dad?"
"He told her about what I did. Ten years ago. He told her what I did when she died, to bring her back. And he told her what I hoped was only me being paranoid. But it wasn't. It's all a part of the same thing. What I did. What happened to you mother." He pauses briefly and turns to look Sam in the eyes. "What happened to Jessica." He drops his head, shaking it back and forth and feels tears collect in his eyes once again. "It was me, Sammy. I'm so sorry. It was all me."