Chapter 16

"Dean, what the hell is wrong with you?" The screen door did its nerve scrapping screech and slammed back into the frame. "You've done nothing but mope around the place for the last few days. Did something happen? Are you coming down sick or something?"

Dean felt a flare of anger and resentment at the sound of his father's voice, something which had been occurring with increasing frequency of late. At least it meant he could still feel something, because otherwise all he was was numb.

Sammy was gone. Despite everything he'd tried to do, every angle he'd tried to work on, Sammy was gone. Probably forever. He just hadn't done enough, pushed enough. It was his fault. His and his father's…

"Son?"

Dean plastered a happy go lucky look on his face and glanced back over his shoulder at his father. "I'm okay, Dad. Just been thinking."

"Oh?" His father moved to sit on the steps beside him. It took everything Dean had not to flinch, stomp off, lash out, or something, just to get his father to back away, to pay a little for keeping him trapped here, babysitting him for the last two years to stop him from doing something stupid – time he could have spent at Palo Alto working on Sammy in person, trying to make things right, to eventually bring him home. But now it was too late for that – too late by far.

"What's on your mind then?"

Dean grabbed the demon head pendant hanging at his chest and squeezed hard, using the pain from the sharp edges to help him focus. It was time. "Well, Dad, I was thinking that if you didn't have an issue with it, we might get more done if we started taking separate jobs every once in a while."

He didn't look at his father as he waited for a reaction, having done nothing but rehearse and perfect the pitch for the last two days.

"I see."

Non-committal and emotionless as always. Had his father been this way when Mom was alive? Or was this a by-product of her death? Most of his memories that far back were fuzzy, though there were a few moments that would be crystal clear till the day he died. Like the night his mother died.

Dean almost jumped when his father put a hand on his shoulder. He had been stressing over this so much his whole body ached.

"That's probably not a bad idea. Good thinking."

Dean glanced at him, not sure he'd heard right. His Dad was okay with this? The anger flared again and behind it was an echo of pain. His father had tortured himself almost to death over the son he drove away, worried about the dangers waiting for him out there, but didn't bat an eye about splitting from Dean. Maybe he should feel flattered. Maybe his father actually thought him competent enough to take care of himself out there. And maybe his father and Sam would give in, call each other and apologize, and they'd all get back together again and live happily ever after. Right…

"There's some weird happening down in New Mexico I thought I could go check out." Hadn't he always given everything he had for his father, for their family? He'd always pushed to be the best son he could be, to do everything he was told, to take care of everyone as best he could. But sometimes, he felt like his father wasn't even aware of it, or just took him for granted. Sammy thought Dean was their father's favorite, but he couldn't be farther from the mark. "I thought I'd leave tomorrow, if that was okay."

"Whatever you think best." His father squeezed his shoulder then stood up to go. Dean didn't watch him leave, his fists bunched at his sides.

And every once in a long while, like today, Dean wasn't even sure if their father knew he really existed at all.