When John saw him, his heart stopped. He knew those eyes. They were Mary's eyes. Here stood his son, a son he hadn't seen in 18 years, a son he believed dead. He was filled instantly with both happiness and dread. His eldest son was alive! That was a miracle. Dean stood before him, an alive and happy young man who was now a hunter. However, Dean's survival meant John failed as a father. For eighteen years his son had lived without his father, his true father. John evidently didn't search enough, he wasn't there for his son when he needed his father. And yet, wasn't it funny how their paths were still brought together? How dean still became a hunter, still was dedicated to finding and killing the yellow eyed demon Azazel.? If John believed in god, he would praise and thank him for returning his son to Him. But it seemed like these events were the work of the devil. He had lost his son, believed him dead, only to find him happy and completely oblivious to his true family.

It still hurt to look at his son and know that dean didn't know who he was, didn't remember the games they played, the way Mary would sing 'hey Jude' to him at night, give him tomato rice soup when he felt ill. There was a great insult and pain in seeing dean's relationship with Joe, the relationship dean didn't have had with Sam. John would bet it hurt Sam even more. But John couldn't deny it, couldn't deny the affection Lucy and Mike held for dean. The way it was reciprocated. They had given up their lives, joined a dangerous one for a son that wasn't theirs- not biologically anyway. But John would take dean any way he could, and would find a way to restore his broken family and make it whole again. In the meantime, he would continue to watch his son. He knew that dean was probably creeped out by his staring if Deans looks were any indication, but John couldn't help it. Dean had Mary's green eyes, with occasional hints of brown and blue depending on the light. But Dean's hair was like his, dark. Deans baby fat had gone, he had filled out and matured. Soft flabby skin had become hard, his jaw solid and shoulders sturdy. His hands were calloused from extensive use of guns. From what John could see, Dean had a few scars. On his wrist was a burn. A faint one that he probably got a long time ago. He also had a ring on his finger, a silver one. It was John's duty as a father to know how Dean got those scars. If it was from a hunt, John should've been by Deans side hunting monsters down together.

At least they were together now. They could find the son of a bitch who destroyed their lives. John would also try to find out why he could never find dean. He had certainly done tracking spells, ones which yielded no results. The lack of a location pointed to dean being dead. Eventually John did give up, something he now knows was too hasty. That was a decision he would regret. Mary must be turning in her grave now. John knew that he had failed her. His wife died, leaving him and his young sons alone without a mother. Instead of assuming the role of both mother and father to his sons, john instead neglected them. Turned to the bottle, to Jim, jack and Jose for comfort instead of raising his sons. Whilst he wallowed in his guilt, he allowed his babies to do the same. He destroyed their childhood, raising them around guns and death. It was ironic, john thought, that whilst he spent so much time leaving his sons to save other people, other people and their children, he was unable to save his own son when it mattered. And wasn't that a kick in the balls? But john had been given another chance, one he would not squander down. In the entire 26 years of Dean's life, John had only been a good father for the first four of them. It was a grave mistake, one he would have to make up for entirely.

But for now, John would just sit and wait until he could find out all the details. Another issue, who was this Castiel? Apparently, he was a 'friend' who just happened to stay by Dean's side 'all the time' to protect him from harm. John was sceptical. This castiel seemed awkward, and dean didn't seem entirely comfortable or even understanding, of what to call their relationship. But john would reserve judgement for now, and quietly scope out everyone in his son's life to determine whether they posed a threat or not.

Sam:

When Dean was taken, Sam was young. As he aged, his memory of Dean grew faint. That was what happened when you didn't regularly see a person, or even have many pictures of them to look at. There were things about Dean that Sam would always remember. He used to call him 'Sammy', something Sam hated because it always made him sound like a baby. Many times, he would tell Dean to call him 'Sam'. In return, dean would call him a bitch and he would call dean a jerk. It was their own personal brotherly trend. Sam remembered how dean would make him food when dad was gone. Dean would stick to traditional breakfast like cereal – he even let Sam take the last of the cereal, even if dean really wanted it. But dean would also make unconventional things, like mac'n'cheese with marshmallows in! he would do anything Sam did. No matter how much Sam found dean overbearing or like a father, he did love Sam – that was something Sam knew for sure. So, when dean was gone, it ripped Sam apart. Dean was the one consistent thing in his life- dean and baby. Dean was his mother, his father, his brother and his friend. To lose not just one, but all of them, left Sam in a broken state. He couldn't comprehend that his brother was gone, was dead. He knew it was hard on his dad and bobby, but for him… for him it was unexplainable. Words couldn't explain – not even a fraction! - of the loss Sam suffered. He truly believed that he and dean were of the same soul. He felt deans' absence every day, like a growing pit in his stomach, a widening wormhole that took all the warmth and love from his soul.

Despite dads aims, he was unable to replace dean. Wasn't that weird? Dean was such a good dad to Sam, that his own biological father could not replace dean and step into the shoes of a father.

Deans position as Sam's father was a sore on with his dad. A few years after Dean had gone, Sam had brought up dean's loss. No matter how much john disliked mentioning dean's death, Sam occasionally brought it up. It was during the season of Christmas when Sam and john's simmering anger and resentment eventually exploded.

Christmas time.

"Look alive Sam, this is the year you finally get to have a beer" Bobby grunted, entering his living room from the kitchen. Sam was seated on the sofa, a dusty book in his hands that was occupying all his time.

"really? That's great" Sam said but his face did not display the fake enthusiasm his voice projected.

"What's wrong Sam?" bobby asked, sitting down beside sam. Sam looked up at bobby, seeing his face frown in growing concern for Sam's apparent sadness.

"I miss dean, bobby" he confessed. Bobby nodded, understanding that the loss of dean was a persistent pain that Sam would never overcome.

"I know sam. I know. Your brother was a good lad. He- "

"is there a ritual that will bring him back? One that I can use?" Sam asked eagerly, staring up at bobby with evident hope and desire.

"…Sam" bobby sighed, running a hand across his face. "sam. No – not the way you think. If a ritual could, it would ask for a wonderful thing. For your life, or worse, your soul. And what's to say you would stop there? Once you brought back dean, you would want your mom. If your dad died you would want- "

"-no! I don't need anyone but dean. He's everything bobby" Sam implored, eyes tearing up. "dean was my mom, my dad, my brother. He was everything. And his loss is – "

"what do you mean?" John's deep voice interrupted the quietness of the room. Sam looked up quickly, eyes widening at the sight of his dad standing there. It was clear that john had been drinking. His eyes were squinting, speech slurred. Oh- and the beer bottle in his hand was nearly finished.

"what?" Sam asked him, standing up quickly. Bobby stood between them, as if he decided he must be a barrier between Sam and john.

"I asked what you meant, when you said that dean was your mom and dad! How dare you Sam, how dare you belittle all that I've done- all that your mom- "

"how dare I?" Sam asked, his body trembling with growing anger. "HOW DARE I? How dare you? You don't even realise what dean did, do you? Mom died. I don't remember her. Her voice, her smile. Anything about her! But I remember dean! I remember that it was dean who made me breakfast, who took me to school, who sat by me when I had nightmares! It wasn't you. Where were you? WHERE WERE YOU? Where were you when I broke my arm? When I had nightmares? When dean was sick? WHEN DEAN DIED? WHERE WERE YOU? You, our apparent father, WHERE. WERE. YOU?" Sam cried out, years of pain and anguish rising, unstoppable. Surging like a wave. John staggered back, eyes widened. His mouth opened, but no words came out. This moment, was the first and truest moment where Sam had truly said all that he had meant.

"WHERE WERE YOU?" Sam cried out, moving forward. Bobby's arm wrapped around him, just in time as Sam dropped to the ground, bent over, body heaving. Tears ran down his face. "Where were you, dad?" he asked mockingly, voice just a whisper now. "When your wife died, where were you? When your son died, where were you? In between that, where were you? Drinking? Hunting? But never raising your children. So, when I say that Dean Winchester was my mother, and my father, and my brother, believe me. Believe me, because we were all I knew, and is all I ever know. You pale in comparison to him. You are nothing compared to him. You, a grown man, could not compare to a four-year-old who became my entire world. Remember that."

John had never forgotten those words, neither had Sam or Bobby. It had plagued them all since that day. Sam meant every word he had said, and perhaps that was why it was so haunting. He had never told Dean how thankful he was for him; he had never praised him for the sacrifice he had made. Dean had given up his own desires and wishes to raise Sam because John didn't care enough to raise his children.

Needless to say, that Christmas was tainted by the memory of dean, and the cruel, but true, words of Sam.

It seemed like Sam might finally have the chance to tell Dean that he was grateful for him, that he loved him. Because he knew, within his heart and his soul, that this man was dean. It took merely a glance, one look, and it was as though his soul had called out to Dean's. this was his brother standing before him. Sam would protect him, would love him, would care for him. He would never allow dean to be taken so cruelly from him ever again. He would not accept dean's absence evermore.

Dean's loss of memory was a setback, but Sam would find a way to restore dean's memories and remind him that Sam loved him. Every moment in his life was nothing compared to this. This was a chance for his family to be prepared. Without dean, Sam and john were just too men of similar blood living together. There was no true connection, because that was Dean. Dean was the one who bonded them, who gave them a home. It may perhaps seem like he was overemphasising Dean's importance, especially considering how young dean was when he disappeared, but Dean was needed in Sam and John's life. He was the missing part of it.

The atmosphere at the Road House was still tense. John and Sam could barely keep their eyes off dean, something dean's family was now noticing. However, they all individually and mentally agreed to cast off their suspicions, as they all had one goal: kill Azazel the yellow eyed demon. The next step of their plan was to travel to Bobby's house, as he had dozens of old books and tomes that possibly continued valuable and rare knowledge they could use to defeat Azazel. Of course, dean nor his family could tell the Winchesters that their friend Castiel was an angel of the lord who could instantly transport them to bobby's, and possible knew a great deal more about Azazel than the books did. So, there they were, ready in the morning to move out.

"okay" Bobby commanded. "I'll drive in my car, you'll all follow us behind. John, you'll be with Sam and Ellen in one car. Dean, you with your family. And I'll be leading the front. Any issues?" bobby growled, the deadpan of his tone making it clear he didn't want or expect there to be.

"yes!" jo piped up, "I want to go with you." Her stern faced was matched instantly by her mothers.

"Joanna- "

"don't you Joanna me, mom! I have every right to go. This demon is threatening people I care about!" she argued, her blond hair whipping around in anger. She slammed her fist on the table.

"and you're just a little girl. Barely a woman let alone an adult!" Ellen growled out.

"but I'm older than Sam, than joey too! I've been raised in this life. I know how to kill vamps and weres, salt ghosts and – "

"yes, you do. But do you know how to fight a demon? Fight plural demons? You don't know what you're risking, and you won't truly know because you're not going. So, get your ass back around that bar, put on a smile for the customers and start serving bear. OR SO HELP ME GOD!" Ellen yelled, her tone becoming louder and louder with righteous anger. The inhabitants of the bar were reluctant to intervene in the familial argument. But it seemed it was over, considering the rage on Ellen's face and the way Jo had stepped back.

"Now" Ellen released a sigh, "we're going to put our stuff in the bar and leave. Ash" she turned to the man who was gulping down cans of beer like it was water, "keep an eye on her" she commanded. Then Ellen turned away, stalking towards the door. John quickly stepped out of her way, allowing her to breeze past him. Looking uncertainly at the door, john gestured for the rest of them to follow him as he made his way out of the door.

Once they were all locked up and loaded, Bobby made the first move, driving down the highway. The rest of them followed in the cars, making their way after him.

Dean shuffled in the backseat of the car, shifting impatiently as his mother drove.

"Dean, what's the matter now?" she asked, turning her head quickly to look at dean's frustrated face.

"this is my friggin car! And I'm not driving it. Hell! I'm not even shotgun. I'm stuck in the back like a baby" he growled out, running a hand across his face.

"well technically honey, you are a – "

"don't you even dare! "dean snapped before his mother could finish that sentence. Shifting once more, dean growled out. Then, turning to his side, he shut his eyes in an attempt to sleep, faintly aware of joey snickering next to him. "yeah, laugh it up bitch. See what happens" he threatened.

Shutting his eyes, dean welcomed the darkness.

Dean was sitting on the beach, by the sea. Still clad in flannel, with his heavy boots on, he was on the black sand. He picked up a handful, letting it fall through his palms. It was warm, bordering to hot, on the touch. He was facing the sea, blue waves crashing loudly over one another and the rocks. The smell of sea water drifted to him, embracing him. The sun was shining down on him, the skies devoid of cloud. Looking around, he noticed there were no other holiday makers. It was just him, sitting on a beach alone.

There was a fluttering beside him. He turned his head, meeting the eyes of a pale skinned, black eyed and haired man. he could've been mistaken for normal, if not the fathomless depths of dark within his eyes.

"hello dean, isn't this peaceful?" he asked serenely, his gaze turning from dean and focusing out on the ocean.

"yes, it is. But tell me, where are we. Why are we here?"

"we are in your mind dean. You are dreaming" the male told him, his left lip quirking up in humor.

"really? If we're in my dream, why are we on a beach? Why aren't we in a bar, or in my bedroom or something?" dean asked sceptically. Of all the places he could be, he was here?

"ah, you do not remember this place. You came here as a child with your mother. She often enjoyed the beach. You sat in this spot, eating ice creams together and pointing out the shapes of the clouds"

"cut the crap Michael, what do you want?" Dean asked, fed up with the nostalgic memories. What was the point of telling him a memory he could not remember? To just make it worse?

"You are currently journeying towards the home of Robert Singer" Michael stated blandly.

"yes" Dean replied just as tonelessly, not even blinking as he looked at Michael.

"Stop copying me Dean. It is- "

"weirding you out?"

"unnerving, yes. You must stop on the path. Find a man called Scott Carey"

"and what's so special about this Scott?"

"Scott Carey is a special child. His life is currently at threat by a hunter named Gordon Walker"

"why? What has he done?"

"Scott Carey accidentally killed two friends of his by touching them. He possesses the power of electric shock. His murders have raised awareness, particularly considering he has told his therapist that he communicates with a yellow eyed demon who encourages him to kill people. If you do not intervene, Gordon Walker will murder him."

"and why don't you intervene huh?" dean asked, growing antsy. "you're apparently all knowing, all powerful. Why don't you fly over there and take out Gordon, or protect him? Why me huh?"

Michael remained as calm as ever. Without raising his voice, he replied. "because you must learn to hone and refine the talents you have. Because I am not all knowing, nor am I all powerful. I too must follow commands. I am disobeying as it is by informing you"

"you, Michael. The archangel, the big powerful brother is rebelling how, exactly?" dean asked him snappily.

"I am not following the paths my brothers are on. By informing you of my presence, by teaching you, granting my powers, I am already disobeying."

"and what's this greater purpose again?... oh yeah, you still haven't told me"

"Dean, rust that I do this all for you. You will understand in time, but not yet. Now, are you ready to train?"

"yes" dean replied standing up and dusting off the black sand from his jeans.

"now, I wish for you to levitate those rocks dean. A simple task" dean rolled his eyes at the pompousness of Michael, but still did as commanded. Dean knew how this would play out. First, Michael would have him carry out mundane and easy tasks, such as levitating items. Then, he would make dean perform more elaborated tasks, such as breaking things apart. Finally, he would spar with dean. Dean, with his mental talents and a knife would fight Michael. He had nothing on the archangel, but he was getting better. Together they spared, moving quickly and lithely. Where dean stabbed, Michael dodged. Where Michael appeared instantly behind him, dean pushed him out the way using his talents. Dean didn't know what exactly to call the talents he had. He wasn't a special kid, wasn't born with telekinesis. But he had bonded with Michael, or some crap like that. Michael had apparently given him some grace, something that allowed him to move quicker, punch stronger, move things with his mind, destroy things with his mind. They were working their way up to demon killing. Michael had granted dean a dagger that would kill nearly all supernatural creatures, demons guaranteed. However, dean was not permitted to share this information with anyone.

He had met Michael after castiel had entered their lives. However, he only met Michael in his dreams. When Michael first appeared, dean distrusted the shady bastard. But Michael promised dean that he meant him no harm, that all he did was for deans – and the worlds- benefit. After time, dean had begun to establish a friendship? Or something of that sort with the grouchy angel. Michael had proved useful, telling dean what creatures he was hunting, how to find them and kill them. Dean was still angry, and suspicious, that he was not granted permission to tell his family or castiel of the archangel's presence in his mind.

Dean was still not allowed to meet Michael in person, something that annoyed him. Michael was apparently hiding out, trying to fulfil his father's wishes. He didn't want any of the angels to sense his presence, so he was under a powerful cloaking spell. As such, being around dean who was such an important figure, he was bound to be sensed or spotted if he revealed himself. Dean was unhappy with it, but acquiesced nonetheless.

After vigorous training which dean would not feel physically once he awakened, Michael halted the training. "I must go, someone else is attempting to penetrate your mind"

"what the hell does that mean?" dean asked, shooting a worried look at Michael.

"not to worry, it is merely castiel. I must leave before he is alerted to my presence"

"okay mike. I'll see you later" Michael raised an eyebrow at the nickname, but still nodded and disappeared. Then dean was alone once more on the beach, enjoying the waves. The peace was not for long as castiel soon arrived.

"Dean" he intoned.

"Cas" dean intoned back, grinning at the uncomfortable look on cas' face as he copied his demeanour. It seemed it wasn't just Mike who didn't like Dean copying the 'stoic angel' act. "what's up?" he asked cas, patting a seat on the ground beside him. Castiel obliged, sitting down next to him.

"you are asleep, so I must enquire as to your health in your mind. How are you?" he asked, peering closely into Dean's eyes. Dean gulped at the closeness, but shrugged.

"yeah I'm cool Cas. You?" he asked the angel.

"I am of perfect health. What do you think of the new hunters?" he asked

"they're interesting. Have a grudge, could be good to work with" he responded. "it's not like I'm best pals with them or something. Why? Is there something wrong with them?" he asked the trench-coat wearing angel.

"…no dean" he replied, pausing only for a moment. "they will be good to work with and will not harm you" he offered him.

"now dean, we must talk. How are you, really?" he asked.

"I'm fine Cas, why?" Dean asked. What was up with cas? He knew cas cared about him, but there was nothing going on.

"Are you sure? Because I care about you Dean." How he could utterly it with ease made Dean vaguely uncomfortable. He could never imagine mentioning his feelings so blasé to Cas. Just the thought made him uncomfortable and weird inside.

"Thanks Cas. You know I- that I also"

"you also care for me dean. I know. You and I share a profound bond" Cas informed him, his eyes glowing almost unearthly.