Dean was anxiously waiting for the imminent showdown to get started. The anticipation alone was enough to make him hurl. He shuttered slightly as he replayed the scene at the bar in his head. What the hell was he thinking? Obviously he wasn't hence the predicament he was in now. He tried to think of the worse thing John could possibly do to him. Hit him? Naw, he would have done that already. It didn't matter where they were or who they were with; if John thought one of his boys deserved a smack, they got it. The fact that they were in a crowded bar wouldn't have mattered one bit. Speaking of which, where the hell was his dad? He had ordered him back to the room over an hour ago. Maybe this "solitary waiting" ploy of his was a new sick method of punishment that John thought up. God only knew what went on in that man's head.
Dean spun around and his stomach lurched when he heard the key in the lock. "Showtime."
Father and son exchanged a momentary glance but neither said a word as the older hunter entered the room. Immediately thankful for the extra time he allowed himself in the truck John calmly walked over to the table and pulled out one of the wooden chairs. He set it in the middle of the room.
"Have a seat."
Dean subconsciously crossed his arms in defense. "I'm good."
John sighed as if he had anticipated his son's response. He strode towards Dean and paused for a brief moment before grabbing a hold of the boy's shirt and slamming him hard onto the chair.
"Sit, while you still can." he said dryly.
"Whatever." Dean muttered.
"Excuse me?"
Dean's shoulders dropped as he slumped a little stretching out his legs. "Do whatever you want; it doesn't matter."
John kicked his boots implying that he should sit up. "What does?"
Dean adjusted himself in the chair again knowing the repercussions if he didn't. He shot John a slight look of confusion due to the question, but said nothing.
"I'm beginning to think that nothing matters to you these days." John's statement was met again with stone-cold silence. "Terrific." He thought to himself. "Damn kid is 99.9 Mary from head to toe and the lousy .1 he had the great misfortune of inheriting from me just had to be the freaking Winchester inability to communicate.
He wiped a calloused hand over his tired eyes and down his face. "Look, believe it or not I miss him too, but Jesus Dean. You have to admit you've been more than a monster pain in the ass these past few weeks. Not to mention you're completely off your hunting game. You've deliberately disobeyed direct orders and you've been out every night this week doing God knows what so you better start talking or you and me; we're going to have problems, now speak."
Dean, at a total loss for words, lowered his gaze. He just didn't have the emotional strength look his father in the eye.
"Dammit Dean, answer me!" John growled this time using both his hands as he grabbed a hold of his son.
Dean's hands flew up and covered John's. He hadn't realized he'd stopped breathing until his father released him and shoved him back onto the chair. His breath returned in short gasps.
John moved behind him regretting having been the cause of the fear he just saw in his eyes. It was obvious to him, now, that his standard method of parenting wasn't going to work. Not this time.
"Fine." He began. "You don't want to talk to me; that's fine. But you are going to talk to someone whether you like it or not. The drinking I can deal with. The mood swings I can tolerate, to a point, but the drugs? No way Dean; not on my watch. I will not stand by and watch you destroy yourself. Not now, not ever.
John's voice trailed off and Dean's eyes grew wide. Drugs??!! Son-of-a-bitch!!! His mouth went dry at the realization that his father must have found the pills he had confiscated from Sam a few months ago. Dammit Sammy! You're not even here and I need to cover your sorry ass.
"Dad; I swear, it's not mine." Dean blurted out so forcefully that John almost believed him.
"O.K., who's is it?" He half-sat on the corner of the table keeping one foot on the floor ready to spring in case his son decided to try and bolt. . "Look around you Dean." He spread his arms out wide. "There's no one else here."
He watched as the young man's eyes danced, struggling to find the right words. John knew his kid's body language well enough to know when they were lying or trying to hide something from him; especially Dean.
Come on, I'm not stupid. I was your age once too you know. I'd be lying if I said I never experimented, but I don't even recognize that shit.
"Dad, I… uh, its…."
John waited for him to continue but when it was obvious that he wasn't he stood up and approached the chair. Dean's body went rigid.
Soothing his tone as best he could John looked down at his son and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He felt Dean relax a bit.
"O.K., listen to me cause I'm only going to say this once. There's a woman in the next town. Her name is Alex Bales. She's a Psychologist or Psychiatrist or whatever, shit, I can't remember what the hell she is but Jim told me she's really good at dealing with this kind of stuff. You have an appointment with her tomorrow morning at 9:00 am."
Dean closed his eyes and shook his head in defeat. "Great, Pastor Jim's thinks I'm a strung out junkie too? Sam, you are so going to get your ass kicked for this." He went to protest but closed his mouth when his dad's hand pressed harder into his shoulder.
"This isn't a request Dean. Miss this appointment and you won't go hunting for quite some time. I'll see to it that you spend all your time with me talking about your feelings and listening to all my worldly, fatherly advice. Understand?"
Dean knew it was useless to argue. "Yes sir".
"Good boy". He said clapping him on the shoulder before he headed towards the light switch. He stopped and shot his son a knowing look.
"Oh, and if you're thinking of leaving, don't bother, you can't. I've rigged both cars and there are no buses or taxis within a hundred miles of here. And yes I know you're good with cars but never forget; I'm better."
John winked and smiled smugly at the look of horror that crossed his son's face. He flipped off the lights. "Don't worry kid; I didn't hurt your baby. Night son."
Dean threw his head back and groaned. "Great, just freaking great."