Chapter 17: Personal Demons

A/N: I was absolutely shocked by the positive reaction to the last chapter. Thanks again for the reviews and your positive feedback. I am sorry for the long wait but I have been unable to uplaod on FF for almost a week now. Very weird.

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Dean woke up to the sun shining on his face. He rolled over to ignore it hoping to get a little more sleep but then the need to go to the bathroom made it clear that he wouldn't be getting any more rest today. He sat up groggily and stretched out the kinks in his back. He saw Sam still asleep in his bed. Dean stood up and took a moment to look Sam over. Sam seemed fine so Dean went on to the bathroom and followed it up with brushing his teeth.

He stepped into the kitchen and flipped on the coffee pot. Then Dean went to the living room to turn on the TV and catch a little news but stopped dead when he entered the room. His father was passed out on the sofa and the bottle of Jack Daniels which had been for medical emergencies only now lay empty on the floor.

"Shit," Dean grumbled to himself. Dad had been sober for weeks. What in the hell would have caused the man to suddenly grab a bottle and get wasted? Dean sighed as he realized he knew exactly why his Dad was wasted. Dean had told the man off the night before in no uncertain terms. Hell, he had even threatened to take Sam and leave him. No matter how much Dean might want to, he couldn't feel sorry for the things he had said last night. He would protect Sam, even if it meant protecting him from their father.

Speaking of Sam, his baby brother could not wake up and see this. Dean grabbed the bottle and took it to the kitchen where he buried it at the bottom of the garbage can. Then he hurried back to the living room and shook his father.

"Dad, wake up!"

"Huh? Dean?"

"Yeah, Dad, let's get you in to bed. I do not want Sam to see you like this."

"Leave me be. So what if Sam sees me? It's time that boy grow up. He needs to face some cold hard facts."

Dean shook his head in disgust.

"Cold hard facts," Dean seethed. "Cold hard facts are all Sam knows. Now get up." Dean pulled at his father's shoulders and got the man into a sitting position. "Come on, just a bit more."

John stood up and stumbled a bit as Dean led him to his room. "I'm your father."

"Yeah Dad."

"I'm in charge around here."

"Sure Dad, keep walking." Dean pulled his father to his room and dropped him rather unceremoniously onto his bed.

"You and Sam need to show me more respect. Ungrateful…both of you."

Dean suddenly couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed his father by his shirt. "Stop it. Sam and I both love you. We are both grateful for the fact that you kept us alive all these years and that you prepared us for what's out there, but sometimes, just sometimes, we needed a father too, not just a drill sergeant. What the hell are you doing Dad? You were the one who came to us a few weeks ago wanting things to change. You wanted us back in your life and we're here, but if you become a drunk again you won't have to worry about me taking Sammy away because he'll leave all by himself. Nothing personal but you're an asshole when you're drunk and he won't put up with it anymore."

"And I just bet if he left you'd go with him wouldn't you?" John demanded.

"Sam is my responsibility," Dean said by way of an answer. "Dad, we've been happy the past few weeks, even you. Damn it do you really want to lose all of this again? Do you really want to push Sam and me out of your life once more?"

John just glared at Dean but didn't reply.

"I have worshiped you my entire life. You were perfect to me in every way, but you walked out on me and it opened my eyes just enough to see that you aren't perfect. Right now I don't see my father the hero. I see a man who is too weak to deal with reality so he crawled inside of a bottle instead. Shit Dad, one fight! That was all it took for you to fall of the wagon? One damn fight? What the hell?"

Dean's words must have hit their mark because suddenly John looked away in shame. He had never wanted his sons to see him look weak and yet here he was and for the first time in Dean's life he realized just how pathetic John really was.

"Dean, I'm sorry."

"Me too, Dad. Now please, get some rest, sober up, and don't do this again."

John rolled over and soon was in a deep sleep. Dean stepped out of his father's room and shut the door. Then he quickly opened the door and clicked the lock into place on the inside and shut it again. He didn't want Sam to enter the room before Dad was past his hang over. Dean grabbed the keys to the truck but realized the truck would make too much noise and wake Sam instantly. He grabbed Dad's wallet, fished out several bills and put on his coat and shoes.

In less than ten minutes Dean had walked to and from the corner store where he had purchased a replacement bottle of Jack Daniels. He poured some out into the sink so it looked like it did after Sam had some and put the bottle back under the sink.

God, it had been years since Dean had had to hide Dad's drinking from Sammy yet he fell into the old routine like clockwork. He went back into his bedroom and was glad to see that Sammy was still sleeping. He had rolled over since Dean last saw him but he was still deeply asleep.

He hoped both Sam and his father would sleep for at least another hour or two. By then both would be over the worst of their hangovers.

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Dean was in the kitchen cooking breakfast when Sam emerged from the room an hour and half later.

"Well good morning sunshine," Dean mocked.

"Huh," Sam groaned.

Dean just smiled and set two aspirin on the table with a glass of water for Sam. Sam had a seat and downed the pills.

"How's you head?" Dean asked as he went back to work on the scrambled eggs.

"It's not that bad, really. I feel a little dizzy but otherwise okay."

"That's good."

Dean set up two plates with eggs, toast, and sausage patties. He put the plates on the table and then poured two cups of coffee.

"Thanks," Sam said. "I don't know if I can eat this though."

"I know it probably doesn't look appetizing but trust me, you'll feel better if you do."

Sam picked up his fork and took several bites to please Dean.

"Where's Dad?"

"He's still sleeping," Dean replied. "I heard him shuffling around pretty late last night. I think he was wound up from the hunt and had a hard time relaxing so he could fall asleep." He watched to see if Sam would buy his bullshit story.

Sam looked at Dean for a moment. He seemed to have a memory of something from last night but he couldn't pull it forward.

"Did something happen last night?" Sam asked.

"What do you mean?" Dean said, playing dumb.

"I…I'm not sure. I think Dad was mad. Did I do something last night…say something bad while I was drunk?"

"Nope," Dean said. "You sang a horrible rendition of the Barney song and nearly freaked out over naked baby pictures, but no, you didn't piss Dad off. Sounds like you were having some freaky alcohol induced dreams last night."

"Yeah, maybe." Sam had the feeling Dean was keeping something from him but he didn't know what that could be.

"Eat up," Dean ordered. "After breakfast I need to change those bandages."

"Dean, are you sure something didn't happen last night. I just…I have this feeling."

"Dude, nothing happened. I don't know what you dreamed or imagined but other than you asking me if I believed in heaven and whether or not mom and Jessica were up there together, nothing happened."

"I said that?" Sam gasped.

"Oh yeah. You were convinced that mom was showing Jessica naked baby pictures of you."

Sam laughed. "No way."

"Dude, way," Dean laughed. "I said it last night but I'll say it again since this time you are sober enough to actually comprehend the words. We need to build up your tolerance to alcohol because your behavior last night was embarrassing."

"His behavior wasn't that bad," came a deep voice from the living room doorway. John was standing there leaning against the door casing.

"Good morning," Sam greeted.

"Morning, Dad," Dean also greeted, though his greeting wasn't necessarily as chipper as Sam's.

"So I wasn't as bad as Dean is making me out to be?" Sam asked.

"Oh no, you were that bad, but I've seen other men act a hell of a lot worse," John replied.

Dean had to give Dad credit. He knew his father had a hang over but he was managing to completely mask it from Sammy. Dean watched as his father walked to the bathroom and shut the door.

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John made it to the bathroom and dropped down on to the toilet and rested his head in his hands. Damn he felt like crap but it was obvious from the way Sammy spoke to him just now he knew nothing of his father's lapse and Dean clearly didn't want Sammy to know. John stood up, popped three aspirins, brushed his teeth for a full five minutes and then took an extra long shower.

By the time he stepped out of the tub he actually felt half way decent. Back at the mirror he saw how blood shot his eyes were and quickly grabbed the eye drops and put several in.

By the time he stepped back into the kitchen no one would have suspected anything were wrong with him. He smiled as he saw Dean set a plate of breakfast and coffee in front of him.

"Where's Sam?"

"Getting dressed."

"Dean, thank you."

"You really want to thank me, don't put me in that position again."

"Does Sam know?"

"No."

Dean put the dirty dishes in the sink and went to sit on the front steps. He was afraid that he might not be able to keep his temper in check and he didn't want Sam to suspect that something was wrong. It surprised him just how angry he was with his father. He had waited five years to have his family be whole again and the thought that his Dad might screw the whole thing up infuriated him.

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Sam came out of his bedroom and saw his father eating breakfast. He had a seat at the table.

"Dean said you were up late last night. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, Sammy. I just needed some time to relax before going to bed. How are you feeling this morning?"

"A little sore but I'm good really."

"Good."

"What about you? How are your hands?"

"They're okay. They should be fine for me to go to work tomorrow. Um, Sam, so…how did you like Stanford?"

"Huh?"

"School, I mean, did you like it there?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, shocked that his father was asking him about this. "The campus was beautiful and what's not to love about California?"

"Well I would think the earthquakes would put a damper on things," John smirked.

"The first couple freaked me out I'll admit," Sam laughed. "I would have thought that there wouldn't be too many things that could spook me after all the things we faced but when the ground begins to move and things fall down it is a little unnerving."

"So what were your favorite classes?"

Neither of them noticed as Dean came back into the house and had a seat in the living room. He pretended to be reading a magazine but he was listening very carefully to their conversation.

"Just about all of them," Sam answered. "Seriously. Obviously I was partial to the pre-law ones, but I also liked the history and literature ones. I took two Latin classes which I totally aced."

"That's not surprising since you've known Latin from the age of ten," John commented.

"I also really liked my anthropology and psychology courses. Ancient religions and civilizations were fascinating too."

"Don't take this the wrong way," John said, "but with the exception of you law classes it sounded like the classes you enjoyed the most were the ones that would help you hunt."

"What?"

"Research Sam. It sounds like you spent four years researching stuff that is supernatural."

"No," Sam replied. "You have to take that stuff to meet your liberal arts requirements."

"Really, those exact classes, ancient religions and civilizations, history and literature, anthropology and psychology, Latin…"

"The Latin was for my law classes," Sam defended, but he was seeing a pattern in what his father said.

"Just out of curiosity, how did you do in parapsychology?" John asked.

"How did you know?" Sam asked. He hadn't even told Dean that he'd taken a course in that.

"I didn't, I took a wild guess. Sam, you knew didn't you? You knew that at some point this would be your life again."

Sam sighed. "Not really. Some of the classes I took just because they sounded interesting and some of them I took just to confirm to myself that we weren't crazy. The parapsychology class that I took was more to see what other people thought about this sort of thing. I was actually a bit surprised to see how many people are actually open minded about this stuff, but then most of them are also full of crap claiming to see or hear things that aren't real."

"When did the visions start?" John asked.

"About six months before Jess died. At first they were no big deal. I would dream of a conversation with someone and then a few days or maybe a week later it would come true. I didn't think anything of it. Then one night I had a nightmare of a girl on campus being murdered. I really believed it was just a nightmare. A week later I saw her face in the newspaper. She had been murdered by her boyfriend."

"Why didn't you try calling me or Dean to tell us what was going on?" John asked.

"Dad, you made it pretty clear that I wasn't welcome anymore. I didn't think you would even speak to me. Besides, I didn't want to believe I had a problem. I chalked it all up to being some freak incident. Then the dreams about Jess started. I had them for weeks and I made a point of keeping an eye on her, watching out for some sign of danger, but nothing happened and I figured I was just being paranoid. But when she died, I knew the truth."

"Sammy, the day you left I said a lot of things out of anger. I was just so damn scared I wouldn't be able to protect you. If I could have that day back I would do a lot of things differently."

"Let me guess, you would have tied me to the bed," Sam joked.

"No, I would give you my blessing and wish you luck. I would tell you to call us at least once a week and let us know how you were doing. I would tell you that I'm proud of you."

"That would have been nice," Sam admitted. "But it's a little late now." He tried to keep his voice flat, not letting any resentment creep through.

"A day late and a dollar short," John agreed. "It's the story of my life. I am sorry, Sam. I know you don't believe this but I never wanted to hurt you or push you away. I just wanted to keep my family together."

"I know Dad. After this past year, well, let's just say, I get it now. I mean, there are a few things I still don't get, but the way you raised us, I understand that."

"What is it that you still don't get?" John enquired.

"I don't understand why you wouldn't talk to us for a year."

"I had my reasons," John said.

"Yeah, but you never really explained them to us," Sam replied.

"I knew Dean and I were being hunted. At the time I really thought the thing was after me and that if I left Dean then he would be safe."

"But you were wrong," Sam said.

"I was wrong. The thing was never after me. It was after you. The only reason Meg set a trap for me was because I was getting too close and it knew I would try to stop whatever they were planning to do to you."

"What I don't understand is why it didn't just take me. Dean and I split up once after a fight. That was how I met Meg. I didn't suspect a thing. It would have been so easy to grab me. Even in Chicago there were plenty of times when I was alone and they could have grabbed me with you guys none the wiser. If this demon wants me so damn badly why hasn't it just taken me yet? I don't get this game they are playing."

"Neither do I," John admitted.

As Dean listened to the conversation he was glad to see his Dad making an effort to get to know Sammy better. He was also glad that he father didn't mention anything about solo jobs. Dean was starting to believe that he father realized Dean had been right and hopefully everything would be okay now. Hopefully his father saw how important it was that they stay together.