Chapter 18
Disclaimer: Still don't own them.
Thanks for Soar the the beta, any left over mistakes are completely my own,
Dean finished his shower and headed towards his room. He entered and grabbed his duffel, getting a change of clothes. He dressed and was debating what to do with himself when he heard a knock on the door. He looked up and saw his father standing there.
"Hey, Dean, you busy?" John inquired.
"Not really," Dean answered as he rubbed his sore shoulder. He glanced at his father and instantly felt his defenses rise. He knew that his father had something on his mind.
"You, okay?"
"Fine," Dean answered, irritation starting to leak into his voice.
"You better put this back on," John said as he handed his son the discarded sling.
"Is that an order?" Dean snapped as he reached out and grabbed the sling from his father's hand and gave it a fierce glare. John knew that if looks could kill, the sling would have caught fire and John frowned. So far, this wasn't starting off well.
"No, more like a friendly request. Besides, do you want Bobby to see you without it?"
Dean thought for a moment before answering. Bobby had always insisted that he take care of himself and that meant following doctors orders. "No," he replied as he put the hated contraption back on with a long suffering sigh.
"Can I go now?" Dean asked his father. John was standing in the doorway though because he knew that he had to prevent Dean's escape if this had any chance of working.
"No, I want to talk to you," John replied as he took a deep breath, his body seeming to expand to fill the doorway completely. He knew there was no point in beating around the bush. They both knew why they were there.
"About what?" Dean asked as he went still and quiet, as if he was gearing up for the conversation, but John knew the truth. Dean's breathing increased and his eyes widened as he began to search frantically for any alternate escape route. Finding none, he squared his shoulders and waited for his father to speak.
"First, I want to say I'm sorry," John said cautiously.
"About what?" Dean asked.
"About Frank. I'm sorry I didn't tell you the whole truth. You were getting along so well with your grandfather that I didn't want to see it end. I didn't what you to get hurt."
"Great strategy there, dad," Dean said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes and flashed his father a thumbs up sign.
"I understand you're upset, but..."
"Dad, don't worry about it okay. Let's just move on. I'm sorry I took off," Dean said hoping that would placate his father. He didn't want to do this.
"No, son, it's not okay. We need to talk about this. I understand there's not a lot more I can say about not telling you the truth about your name that wasn't covered by Bobby, Sam or Frank. Just let me say once again, I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean much, but I hope you know that I mean it," John said sincerely.
"Why didn't you just tell me the truth? Like I told Sam, I'm not going to break. Sure, it would have hurt, but how do you think it felt having it thrown at me like that, coming from my own grandmother. Then, to find out you and Sam knew the whole time. You all lied to me, you, Sam, Frank, even mom. You said family doesn't keep things from each other. I..." Dean's rant stopped abruptly, as if he had said too much.
John took a step back as Dean's good arm gestured wildly as he was making his point. As daunting as it was, this was the reaction that he had wanted, Dean needed to get this out, although he hadn't expected it to come this quickly.
"You're right, I should have told you. I hope you can forgive me?" John asked.
"Sure. Are we done now?" Dean asked.
"Not even close. We're just getting started," John said firmly and he took a decisive step forward.
Dean looked like he was about to protest, so John quickly closed the gap between him and his son. He put his arm on Dean's shoulders, like he had seen Bobby do on numerous occasions, and John tried not to show how hurt he felt when Dean flinched.
"Let's sit, son, there's something I want to say." John and Dean took a seat on the edge of one of the beds. Knowing that Dean would never sit of his own free will, John exerted some gentle pressure. He left his hand over Dean's shoulders, not only because he wanted to maintain contact with his son, but now that he was no longer in front of the door, he didn't want Dean escaping. John took a deep breath and began. He found himself praying he was doing the right thing.
"Your grandfather, not Frank, my father, was a good man. He loved my mom, much like I Ioved Mary. My mom died just before our wedding and ever since then, my father's health began to go down hill. He eventually died of a heart attack, just after you were born, but I think it was of a broken heart. He held on for as long as he did because he wanted to meet his grandson. He told me that there was no greater joy than a parent meeting their child for the first time. As soon as you were born, they took you away from us, before we could even catch a glimpse of you. No one would tell us anything, we didn't know if you were alive or dead. Then finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they came and got us. I took one look at you and understood exactly what my dad had been talking about. You weren't much bigger than my hand, but to me, you were perfect."
"No so perfect, obviously," Dean mumbled under his breath. It was so low that John almost missed it.
"Pure perfection, Dean," John said in a tone that left no room for argument. "Your grandfather, Frank, he never saw you, just the machines that were keeping you alive," John explained.
"You two rehearse this or something?" Dean accused, a hint of anger coloring his voice. "That's what he said."
John cursed himself. He really hoped that he hadn't undone any of the damage control that Frank had accomplished. "No, Dean, that's just what he told me after we started to patch things up. Your mom was a lot like you. She didn't like to stay mad at family," John explained. "It was over two months before we could bring you home. I still remember the first time that I was alone with you. It was the second day you were home and your mom had to go for a check up. That's my favourite memory of you. I made a promise then that I was never going to let you go."
"Why are you saying this stuff?" Dean asked, his tone making him sound like a confused little boy rather than the lethal hunter he was.
"You need to hear it and I'm concerned about you," John said gently.
"You don't have to be, I'm always okay," Dean responded with a glance toward the wide open door.
"You're not okay. Not by a long shot," John instantly refuted.
"Like you would know," Dean mumbled.
"Why would you say that, Dean? Why would you think that I wouldn't notice or care that you were gone?" John repeated with a frown and he could feel the tension grow in Dean's body. John knew that an explosion was not far away. He was going against every instinct that John had as a father not to upset your kids. Too little, too late, he thought to himself.
"Nothing, forget I said anything, it must have been the concussion. I didn't mean it," Dean tried, but John was not about to let him off the hook.
"You said it, Dean, so you obviously meant it. Now tell me why you would think that," John ordered, not willing to let this go.
"I said I didn't mean it," Dean restated. He threw up his good arm in a gesture of frustration.
"Dean!" John warned. He could tell that Dean was getting frantic and John knew he was about 30 seconds away from throwing off John's hold on him and making a break for the door. In a preventative measure, John released his hold on his son. Dean shot to his feet, but John's quick reflexes allowed him to block the door first.
Sighing in frustration, Dean walked to the other of the room and turned his back on his father. He was seriously contemplating just charging his father in order to get out.
"Dean, why do you think I don't care?"
"Okay, you do alright," Dean ground out just wanting this to be over.
"Nice try, now why do you think I don't care?" John persisted.
Dean whipped around to face his father. Anger was pouring from every ounce of Dean's body and John braced himself for Dean's explosion. Dean, however, was never one to be predictable and he did the last thing that John expected. The tension never left him, but he looked his dad square in the eye and said quietly, "Watch out for Dean."
John's confusion showed in his face. He was about to prompt Dean to continue when Dean did it on his own.
"Whenever you went away on a hunt, you left instructions. Lock the doors and the windows, and close the shades. Don't leave the room and don't answer the phone, if it was you, you would ring once and call back. Most importantly though, watch out for Sammy," Dean quoted. He paused, as if to gather his thoughts, and then continued. "Whenever we stayed with Bobby, or Pastor Jim, it was the same thing. Never once did you leave instructions to watch out for Dean, or if we were by ourselves, you never said to take care of yourself," Dean said and his heartbroken voice pierced John's heart.
"Dean," John began.
"I know, you're sorry, right," Dean said in a forced tone.
"I was going to say that I did leave that instruction, you were just never around to hear it, and if you don't believe me, you can ask Bobby," John defended himself. "You were always so capable, Dean. After the fire, I lost it, but you didn't. You took care of me and Sammy and you were all of four years old, Dean. The only reason I didn't say it when you were by yourself is because I knew you could and would. I guess I felt like I was insulting you if I said that," John explained heavily.
"It still would have been nice to hear it," Dean admitted sadly.
"You were always so reliable, so capable, I guess sometimes, it was so easy to forget that you were just a kid," John replied softly.
John and Dean regarded each other silently, both wanting to say more, neither one really knowing what to say next. John could tell that his eldest still had a lot on his chest that he needed to get out and had started with what he felt was the safest thing, something he was sure that his dad would be able to explain away easily.
"We done now?' Dean asked again.
"I said we weren't even close," John stated.
Dean's shoulders slumped. "What do you want from me?'" he asked his dad dejectedly.
"I want you to be honest with me," John replied.
"I'm tired," Dean tried.
"Talk to me, Dean, please. Why would you think I don't care?" John begged.
This time he got the explosion he was looking for.
"BECAUSE YOU NEVER HAVE!!!!!!"
John was startled by this because this time, he wasn't ready for it. What Dean said surprised him so much that he took a step back. He had shifted his position slightly and Dean saw his opening. If he reacted fast enough, he would have just enough time to squeeze past his father and that's exactly what he did.
"Dean, wait," John called out to his retreating form as he took off after his first born.
Dean managed to make it out the front door and John was debating whether or not to follow him when Sam, Frank and Bobby came around the corner. All three spoke at once.
"Johnny, what happened?
"Dad, is Dean alright?"
"John, what's going on?
"I screwed up again. I don't know how to get him to talk to me," John said. Defeat radiating off him.
"I'm going to go find Dean," Sam said as he started for the door.
"I'm coming with you, Sam," Frank added.
"Both of you freeze," Bobby ordered.
"He shouldn't be by himself, Bobby," Sam said worriedly.
"I know, but he's not going to be, Sam," Bobby assured the youngest Winchester.
"Maybe you should go, Bobby," said Frank. "You seem to have the magic touch with Dean."
Bobby turned toward John and looked at the man he considered a brother, even more so than his own brother. "Your call, Johnny."
"There's nothing I want more than to let you go out there, Bobby," John said honestly. "But it's got to be me. With what he just said to me, if I don't go out there, then it's just going to re-enforce that belief."
John took a deep breath and went out the door after his son. He knew just where Dean would go. He went straight for Bobby's garage, Dean's favourite place to go when he got upset, or when something was overwhelming him. When he got to the garage, his heart broke again.
John found his boy slumped against the wall furthest from the entrance. He was sitting down, his head bowed and his arms wrapped around his legs. John wondered where his sling was. He knew that in that position, his shoulder must really be hurting, but John suspected that was the point. Dean was using physical pain so he didn't have to deal with his emotional pain.
John walked over to his son and called his name softly, so as not to startle him. Dean didn't react so John did the only thing he could think to do. He sat next to his son and put his arm around his good shoulder and pulled him close, all the time whispering, "It's okay, buddy, I'm here," much like he had when Dean was four.
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It was a couple ofmonths after the fireand Dean had been admitted to the hospital with a high fever. That night, there had been a freak snow storm and it knocked out power and phone services for two days. The roads were impassable and it took those two days before John had anyway to contact the hospital. When he got there,Dean had been practically catatonic, thinking his father had goneaway, just like his mom had. John had crawled into bed alongside Dean and gathered him in hisarms, repeating how sorry he was and that he was here,and what a brave boy Dean was.
It had taken about two hours,but Dean had finally comeback to him and whisperedDaddy. It was sweetest sound John had ever heard. It was shortly after that, that John had come across a teddy bearwith angel wings in a gift shop. He brought the bear and the next time Dean was in the hospital, John had told him that his mom had sent it to Pastor Jim, so that he would know that she was with him if John couldn't be.
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I wish you were here now,Mary, John thought.
Dean felt the presence beside him and knew that it was his father, and as much as he wanted to pull away when he felt his father's arm around him, instead he leaned into the embrace. He always felt safe when he was in his father's arms.
Father and son sat there for a good half hour before either one moved, neither wanting to be the first one to break the embrace.
Dean looked at his father and said quietly, "I tried, I tried so hard."
"Tried what, Dean?" John asked just as softly.
"To be the son you wanted me to be."
"You are,Dean," John said firmly.
Dean gave a soft smile, but it never reached his eyes, and John knew that Dean didn't believe him.
"I'm sorry I was such a screw up," Dean murmured.
"Dean, stop it. You're not a screw up," John stated just as firmly.
"I am," Dean repeated with conviction.
"Then tell me why, Dean, why do you think that?" John asked, his tone implying that it was on order.
"Because I couldn't do anything right. I mean, you trusted me to look after Sammy and I almost got him killed," Dean started as he remembered the incident with the Shtriga.
John wanted to say something, but instinct told him to remain quiet. He had a feeling that Dean wasn't done and if he interrupted him, Dean wouldn't talk anymore. He was right.
"I was always getting sick, and you couldn't hunt because you had to be at the hospital with me. I could barely string two words together when I was in school and you were always getting called in. I almost got Sam taken by social services, and it was my fault that Sam left." Dean stopped there and looked at his father. "Do you want me to go on, or do you get the point?" Dean said bitterly.
"I want you to listen to me, Dean and listen good. None of that stuff was your fault. You were born two months premature, Dean, you got sick because your immune system wasn't as strong as other newborns. Don't you dare blame yourself because I was at the hospital with you, that's where I chose to be. After what happened when you were four, I didn't want that to happen again. If you're sick or hurt, then that's where I want to be," John said.
"Then why didn't you come see me or call me back?" Dean asked as he shifted his eyes toward his father. "Dad, I called you from Lawrence, Sam called you when I was dying. You never came," Dean accused sadly.
"I was in Lawrence, Dean. I came as soon as I got your phone call," John admitted. "I didn't know if it was safe for me to show myself and, Dean, I hope you believe me because I swear, if I thought for one second you couldn't handle it, I would have showed. Dean, when I got that phone call from Sam, it nearly killed me. I couldn't let you die. I knew I had to find a way to save you."
"What are you saying, Dad?" Dean asked suspiciously.
"I was in Nebraska. I had a lead on the demon, but while I was there, I heard about the reverend. I had my suspicions about what was going on and I was getting ready to send the co-ordinates to you and Sam, but then I got that message from your brother. I contacted Joshua and asked him to pass the message on."
"You did that? Some guy is dead because of me," Dean spat out.
"I feel bad for that guy's family, Dean, I do, but I couldn't let you die."
"Did you ask the reverend to make sure I got on stage?"
"No, Dean, you did that yourself. I had a feeling you would. I was there, in the shadows. He said he saw into your heart and that's what caused him to pick you. If you hadn't been healed, Dean, I swear I would have been there."
"But some guy died because of me. You shouldn't have done that. I was ready to face death. It's a dangerous gig. I'm not a child, you had no right to make that decision for me," Dean said, his pain and guilt written across his face.
"You're my child," John stated emphatically. "A parent isn't supposed to out live their child. I would have done anything to save you, Dean, even if it meant making a deal with old yellow eyes himself."
"NO!!!!" Dean cried. "Dad, you can't, promise me."
"I can't do that, Dean. If it was the only way to save you or Sammy, I'd do it in a heartbeat, without thinking twice. I almost didn't survive after I lost your mother and without you, I definitely wouldn't have. If something happened to you or your brother, I wouldn't make it. I wouldn't want to." John admitted.
"I'm not worth it," Dean said.
"You are!!!" John emphasized. With that, he cupped Dean's face in his hand and gently turned it so they were looking eye to eye. "You're my son, and that's reason enough. You make an instant impression on just about everyone you meet, Dean. Your mom, me, my dad, we all fell in love with you from the minute we laid eyes on you. Even baby Sammy was fascinated with his big brother."
"Not everybody," Dean muttered.
"Even Frank. Like I said, he never saw you when you were a baby, and when he did, he fell in love with you too. Let's not forget Bobby. This is something I never told you, Dean. When Caleb sent me to Bobby, he gave me a warning. He told me that Bobby wasn't too happy about having kids around and was only allowing it because he knew I had no other choice. We weren't even there for a week and he was inviting you down to his salvage yard. He told me he hadn't even let his brother's kids down there until they were into their teens. He didn't trust them. That should tell you something."
"What about my grandmother, she made her feelings toward me loud and clear," Dean said dejectedly.
"Dean, please don't judge yourself based on Margaret. She's a miserable, hateful, spiteful old woman who only likes herself," John explained. "Did you know that she didn't even like your mother?"
Dean looked at his father in surprise.
"It's true, you can even ask Frank. Your mom was too much of a free spirit. She was interested in doing more than just getting married to some rich guy. She did her own thing. When she started to date me, forget it, Margaret practically disowned Mary. She didn't come to the wedding and refused to even acknowledge that I was her son in law. She didn't know you, she made a judgement based on the fact that I'm your father. You want something to judge yourself by, look at the impression that you made on Frank's friends. He told me that Ian really enjoyed meeting you, and he told me all about Paul and Michelle Ames, and what you did for Steven. Frank also told me that his associate, Andrea, couldn't stop gushing about you, and Sam told me about Lucas. You want me to keep going or do you get the point?" John said.
"I get the point," Dean said softly. He was starting to get uncomfortable. He didn't feel like he deserved the praise.
"Good, now I'm going to say this once and for all, and then we're never going to mention the situation again. It was not your fault that social services came around. I told you that you protected us. Now I have a confession to make," John admitted.
"What?" Dean asked warily.
"After about six months, they stopped coming around. It was the first time since your mom was killed that I really got to be a father to you boys. I didn't want to give that up," John said
Dean looked at his father. "You what?" he asked in disbelief.
"I know you hated that school, Dean, especially after what happened. Maybe I was selfish, okay I was selfish, but I liked us being a family," John explained.
"Me too," Dean admitted softly. "Even you and Sammy got along pretty good. Why'd you leave?"
"Honestly, I missed hunting and I know you did too. With you graduating and turning 18, social services couldn't touch you anymore. Plus, you did so well, Dean. I didn't want to take you away. You were pulling almost straight A's by this point and I would say getting a full scholarship to MIT proved just how far you came."
John felt all the tension re-enter Dean's body and he cursed himself for bringing up Dean's marks.
"Brilliant me," Dean said sarcastically.
"I promised myself that I was going to try to avoid I'm sorry, because a lot of times, it sounds so hallow, but this is one area where I do owe you an apology, Dean, a big one. It was so easy just to believe the teachers when they said that you weren't applying yourself. If I had taken the time to look, I would have seen that you were trying and I'm sorry I didn't. Then, Ms. King told me you might have a learning disability, and I would need to give you a lot of support during the testing period. I got so wrapped up in that hunt that I failed to give you that support."
"They made me do stupid stuff, dad. They asked me to identify letters, like I didn't even know the alphabet, and read words that a four year could read, and even read words that didn't exist. I couldn't do it," Dean said miserably.
"They were tests designed to see if you had dyslexia. The fact that you couldn't confirmed it. I should have taken time to explain the tests to you and I should have been there for you period, Dean. I hope you can forgive me for not being there. Same with when you were reading that Shakespeare play," John said contritely.
"I tried to study by myself, but I didn't have time. They laughed at me, dad. Do you know what that was like?" Dean said trying unsuccessfully to keep the hurt from his voice.
"No, son, and I hate the fact that you had to go through that. I wish I could go back and re-live that day. I truly am sorry, Dean" John said sincerely. "Can I ask you something?"
"What?" Dean asked.
"That day, after I got back from that meeting with Ms. King, I found that test in the garbage pail. Why didn't you tell me about it?"
"I tried," Dean snapped. "You wouldn't let me. You just wanted to believe the worst. I was worried that if I showed it to you, you were going to accuse me of cheating,"
That admission floored John. "Dean, you are as honest as the day is long. I knew it wasn't in you to cheat. I'm so sorry I made you feel that way, son."
"I tried so hard, Dad," Dean admitted. "I just wanted to make you proud."
"You did, Dean," John said.
"No, I didn't," was Dean's reply.
"Why would you say that?"
With that, Dean jumped to his feet. John thought that he was going to bolt again, but he just walked to the other end of the garage. Then he turned and gave his second explosion.
"IF I MADE YOU SO PROUD,WHY DID YOU WANT TO SEND ME AWAY?"
It wasn't often that John was speechless, but this was one of those times. "Dean, I…"
"Please, dad, don't insult both of us by pretending that you don't know what I'm talking about. I heard you talking to Pastor Jim that night," Dean admitted.
"Dean, I was just frustrated. I didn't know how to help you. I thought that if you had some stability with your schooling, it might have helped. I didn't want to send you away, Dean," John said.
"You thought it would be for my own good. Is that it? Why didn't you? Did Pastor Jim not want me either?" Dean ground out.
"He did, Dean, he would have taken you in a heart beat. He made me see that it wasn't the best idea and that it would have done more harm than good. You were never meant to know about it, Dean."
"What if I didn't have dyslexia, what if I was just a screw up, what would you have done then?"
"I would have gotten you a tutor anyway. That's what Jim suggested. I promise, Dean, it was a rash decision, not one I would have followed through on," John explained truthfully. He just hoped Dean believed him.
"You probably would have been better off," Dean said and John frowned. Did Dean really think so little of himself? "I mean, you obviously thought so."
"Dean, I admit that I made a mistake by thinking about sending you to Pastor Jim's, but why would you say that I would be better off without you?" John asked curiously.
"Because you ditched me the first chance you got. You said I could handle the job in New Orleans and you sent me there, then you left. I couldn't reach you after that, I didn't know if you were alive or dead," Dean explained.
"That wasn't why I left, Dean. I finally found out what had killed your mother. I left to pursue that lead," John tried to explain.
"You could have told me," Dean muttered sullenly.
"I was worried. I was afraid that it would come after you and Sammy," John said
"Don't you think we could have been better prepared if we knew that truth?" Dean questioned reasonably. "I guess it was the right thing though, considering. I mean, I screwed up in Chicago and you almost got killed. Sam almost got killed that time too, and because I was such a screw up in school, even Bobby could have been killed. Maybe you would have been better off if you let them pull the plug," Dean muttered.
John instantly felt his temper flare up. He immediately closed the distance between himself and Dean and he grabbed his son by the arms and whirled Dean around to face him. Dean flinched as it pulled at his sore shoulder. John wanted to slap Dean for that remark, but instead, he just pulled Dean into the biggest bear hug that he could. Dean tried to pull away, but John just held on tighter.
"Don't you say that, Jonathan Dean, don't even think it," John said forcibly. "You and your brother make my life complete and I don't ever want to hear that kind of talk again. Understand?"
Dean remained quiet. "Dean," John prompted just as forcibly.
"Yes, Sir," he said so quietly, with eyes downcast.
"Now you listen to me, Jonathan Dean Winchester Junior," John said as he let go of Dean and cupped his face so that Dean was forced to look his father in eye. "You take that thought out of your head. You are not a screw up. You never have been and you never will be. You had no choice but to call me in Chicago. And Dean, Bobby was never in danger. I was just in a hurry to get out of there, I wasn't really listening to what you were saying. I knew by saying that, you would let me go. I'm so sorry for dismissing you like that. As for the leaving, I have to admit that a lot of times, I got so caught up in the hunt that I sometimes forgot about you and your brother's needs. I knew I could do it because I knew that I had you at home, taking care of things."
"But..." Dean started.
"No, let me finish. As for the shtriga and the fear demon, you didn't screw up. I did. You were nine years old, Dean, you should never have been in that situation in the first place and, Dean, what I said to you that night that we battled that fear demon, I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to myself. Unfortunately, you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It got to me to and I took it out on you," John admitted.
"You don't think I'm pathetic?" Dean asked in a small voice.
"Never. You, Jonathan Dean Winchester Jr, are not now, and have never been, a screw up. Just look at how many people are alive because of you."
"Not as many as you," Dean said.
"I was able to take so many hunts because I knew that you were taking care of things on the home front, so indirectly, you saved their lives too. Now, Dean, I am truly sorry that you got hurt over this whole mess with Frank, but in one way, I'm glad he asked your mom and me not to name you after him because you don't know how proud I am that you have my name," John admitted wholeheartedly.
"I'm proud to have your name too, dad," Dean also admitted shyly.
"Do you want to me to start calling you little Johnny, or JJ?" John teased lightly as he tested the waters.
"No offense, dad, but I like Dean," Dean said with a small grin.
"Me too, kiddo, it suits you," John replied. He dropped his arms to his side and then he gave in to the impluse to ruffle Dean's short hair, much to the younger man's chagrin.
"Dad, in that journal that mom left for me, she told me everything, even stuff that was hard to read, like the doctors wanting to pull the plug, why didn't she tell me the truth about grandpa?" Dean asked.
"Your mom, she told me that she was in charge of naming any children we had. She claimed that was her right after carrying you for nine months. I could never say no to your mother. She never really looked at it as not telling you the truth. She named you after me because she thought you had my strength. She loved you with everything she had, right from the moment she found out she was pregnant with you and she was proud, Dean, please don't doubt that," John said firmly.
"I miss her," Dean admitted as he began to swallow convulsively and John knew that he was dangerously close to tears.
"Me too, kiddo," John said as his own eyes filled up. "Come here," John said as he opened his arms back up to Dean. Dean hesitated briefly and then practically jumped into them.
"I'm here, Dean," John repeated once again and Dean could no longer control his emotions, but much to Dean's surprise, John's flood gates opened as well. For a long time, they remained that way, in each others arms and taking comfort in one another's presence, neither wanting to be the one to break that embrace and during this time, father and son took a giant step towards healing.
John, knowing that Dean had to be exhausted and in pain, reluctantly pulled back. He kept his remaining arm over Dean's shoulders, not wanting to lose all contact. "Come on, Dean, lets get back to the house," John suggested.
"One sec," Dean said as he walked over to the tool bench where he had thrown his sling when he had gotten to the garage. He gave his dad a tiny smile. "Wouldn't want Bobby to see me without it, I don't want to sleep on the porch," Dean joked.
"Good idea, son." John said. "But if you show up without it, it won't be you sleeping on the porch. Dean, I honestly think you could burn down Bobby's garage, on purpose, and he would still forgive you," John said as he waited for Dean to join him. When Dean was back at his father's side, John's arm found it's way back to the now familiar place around Dean's good shoulder.
John led Dean back to the house. Sam, Frank and Bobby, knowing that Dean would be in no shape to discuss what had taken place between father and son, made themselves scarce. They could talk to them in the morning. Dean first went to the washroom and even though it was early, he was exhausted. It was a testament to just how tired he was that he was ready to admit it. When he got back to his room, he saw his teddy bear sitting by his pillow.
Dean smiled, a true smile. He was glad his dad had brought it. He was seriously regretting leaving it behind. Instead of putting it back into his bag, he left it where it was, he didn't even care if Sam saw it later. He climbed into bed, looked at the bear and said "Good night, mom. I'll do my best to continue making you proud. I love you.'" With that, he rolled over and promptly went to sleep, he was gone before his head hit the pillow.
Unbeknownst to Dean, John watched his son from the hallway. He smiled when he saw Dean crawl into bed and leave the bear where John had put it when Dean was in the bathroom.
"That's my boy," John said fondly and with pride.
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