A/N: I just noticed as I'm posting this. Patricide has over one hundred reviews. Thank you all very much!

Chapter 12 – free bird

The days at the farmhouse were fine. I had a harder time in the mornings. Kept thinking I'd wake up and find a note on the kitchen table, or a message on my cell. I'd have some kind of special project to keep me occupied until Dad came back, like digging a ditch with a teaspoon, or using my pen knife to make a bear trap out of one of those trees out back. I'd be ditched and having to make do with busy work, instead of out hunting with my Dad, where I want to be.

I try not to think like that. Do I need any more whine with that cheese? We got a job to do. People could be dying out here, or worse, and I'm whining like a little bitch 'cause my daddy left me.

And then I'd wonder why he'd ditch me, wonder if there's something wrong with me in the first place.

I kept myself busy, so busy I didn't have time to think like that. Cleaned everything in the weapons stash, even gave the Impala a tune up. My girl was running kinda rough. Made rock salt cartridges for the shotguns. Hell, by the time I got through we had another duffel bag full of the damn things. Had to fish that extra duffel out of the trunk.

Dad's cell phone went off at least a couple of times that I know of. He'd take the call and move off, away from me, talk so low I couldn't hear what he was saying.

Who the hell am I kidding? I didn't want to hear. It's not like we were joined at the hip or something. I get that. I do.

So I got myself ready for it. I could hear Dark inside my head, laughing.

Gonna ditch you, Deano. Gonna wake up tomorrow morning and Daddee will be gone bye-bye. See how you feel then.

Punk bastard.

I had a hard time sleeping some nights. When I woke up in the morning I'd creep through the house.

And Dad was still here.

I played it off. Yawned and acted all nonchalant and shit. Soon as I turned my back on him I started grinning, wide and stupid.

He didn't ditch me. Damn.

In the morning I'd go into the kitchen, fix breakfast from the stuff we had in the refrigerator. Heat up, mostly, but Dad seemed to like whatever I put on his plate. He never has been fussy like that.

We did stuff together. Real father son stuff, right? I know that sounds lame.

Dad sent me on a search and evade exercise in the woods nearby. I managed to sneak up on him and snag that shirt he left out on a branch as a decoy without getting tagged. Had to run like hell so Dad couldn't catch me. I was sitting on the porch when he came back. I hooked the shirt onto the porch railing and the wind had it up and flapping like a battle flag.

When Dad walked out of the woods I raised the water bottle in my hand as a salute and took a drink.

"Nobody likes a smartass, Dean." He sounded rough, but I could tell he really didn't mind.

We'd go for long distance runs in the woods. We played cards, watched cable. Hey, what was he going to do? Wasn't like he was going to take me to a baseball game out here, right?

Six days later Dad winked at me. "Time to hit the road, Ace."

I wasn't that broken up about leaving. I was getting kinda restless. I feel better when I'm moving, you know? I'm good at lying in wait. Staying put like that in one place? Not so much.

Doesn't mean that I don't dream about home. Back in Lawrence, I mean. I dream about Mom all the time. I remember how it was, how Dad was back then. That's not me anymore. I mean, what are the odds that I'm gonna live to be thirty, or even forty? Or Dad's age? I think about it sometimes, how it would be to live like Joe Normal. Maybe I could get a job working on cars.

I'd like that.

Go to school, maybe. I wonder about that, too. I'm good with my hands. Made an EMF reader out of a busted Walkman we had lying around. I know I'm not as smart as Sam, and my grades in school weren't that good. I got bored easily. I'd stroll into the classroom like I really didn't give a damn, and most of the teachers I had seemed to agree with me. They bought the act. Most of the time they just thought I was a roughneck, a juvie or a neer'do well.

A couple of times I had teachers that weren't fooled. They saw me, figured I could do more. That never lasted. Dad would come and pick me and Sam up from school. Another job, another hunt. Another town.

Well, shoulda, coulda, woulda. Too late for that now.

I drove when we left that day. First stop was Blue Earth. I don't know if Pastor Jim wanted to see for himself if I was okay. Probably. He was glad to see me, but I didn't ask him about what happened a couple of years ago. Yeah, he could've called, could've let me know what was going on with Dad. He didn't. Shit happens. No problem.

I can hear Dad now: "Dean can handle things. Don't have to call him."

Okay. I'm fine with that.

Dad and I roamed up and down the eastern seaboard. Word must've gotten out that the Winchesters were a man short, because fuglies were coming out of the freakin' woodwork. Nailed a 'geist in this suburb right outside New York City, ran into this nest of goblins down in New Jersey. I don't know what the fuck goblins were doing in New Jersey, of all places, but people were dying before we got there.

Stopped that shit real quick.

Got a call from one of Dad's ex-Marine buddies. Seems this Devil Dog owned a Thai restaurant in Richmond, Virginia, and there was some weird shit happening at night. Stuff was disappearing in plain sight. When the dude came to open up in the morning the tables and chairs were stuck to the ceiling.

It was hard not to laugh when I saw that.

Turns out it was pixies.

Yeah, pixies. I didn't stutter. Turns out they were pissed because the owner wasn't giving them their due. Dad talked to the guy, convinced him to leave out some cheap shiny jewelry, plates of food for the little sonsofbitches.

It worked. Last thing I heard was the restaurant was even more popular than ever. All the pixies wanted was a little gratitude. Sometimes the things we hunt are easier to understand than humans.

Hunted a kappa in South Carolina. Damn thing nearly killed us, but we finally got the bastard. Three days later there was this black dog hanging around this rest stop just inside the George state line. Fido developed a taste for kids. Dad and me put him on a short leash back down to hell quick. The local authorities claimed it was the work of a wild dog pack.

We knew better.

Let's see, there was this vengeful spirit in Alabama, couple more black dogs in Pennsylvania, and I almost forgot that phantom hitch-hiker on Route 9 in Connecticut.

I thought about Sam every day. Little brother had gone normal and that just didn't include me or Dad. I wondered what Sam would do if I showed up on campus one day. That's all that was…wishful thinking. Would he have pretended he didn't see me, would he have cursed me out? When he left he was pissed off at me too. Sam thought I was Dad's "good little soldier", and he just didn't see any farther than that.

I knew Dad was keeping tabs on him, at least, he had been before that business at the rec center. Of course, there wasn't any way I could duck out and spy on the brat, and it didn't seem like we were going to swing by Cali any time soon.

I was up for any and everything Dad came up with. Didn't want to seem weak. That's one thing I can't stand. Being weak. Dad's got enough on his plate every single damn day, without me adding to it. I tried to make Sam understand that, and I woulda gotten more understanding out of a friggin' boulder. Sam had his way of seeing the world and that was that. I was either for him or against him, and I'll be damned if he thought I was against him most of the time.

Months passed, and we kept right on rolling.

I remember this one gig in Pennsylvania. Dude's name was Jerry Panowski. He had a 'geist tearing up his house. Real nasty fucker. This was definitely a two man job. Dad and me finally handled it, but what got me was Dad mentioning to Jerry several times that he was really proud of Sam.

If I ever see Sasquatch again I don't know if I'm gonna even mention that. He'd probably think I was lying anyway.

We took the southern route out to the desert southwest. Hunted a bruja in New Mexico. Sam was one state away, and I could tell Dad was thinking about him. I could see it in his eyes.

I didn't have any warning. I got up that morning and I noticed Dad's bed was already made. I knew the drill, checked my cell for messages, and was kinda surprised when there weren't any. No notes on the nightstand, either. About an hour later I looked out the window and sure enough, Dad's climbing out of this big ass black truck.

He walked in a minute later, flipped me the keys to the Impala.

"She's all yours now, Dean. We can cover more ground that way."

Felt like the keys burned my skin when I touched them.

We split up after that.

Felt kinda funny putting just my stuff in the Impala's trunk. I felt hollow inside. Empty. My hands started shaking and for a moment I was afraid that Dad would see that. I got myself together pretty damn quick.

I pulled out first. Hugged the old man, patted him on the back and then away I went. I had my game face on, and I didn't look back.

The good news is, I'm driving the Impala.

The bad news is, I'm driving the Impala and I'm alone.

'm headed for Oklahoma City. Dad's headed for Texas. He was all "keep in touch, call me if you need anything," (and I know I better not need anything) only this time I'm on my own, for real.

Free as a fucking bird.

I'm thinking that at least now I can go look in on Sam if I have the time between jobs, if I time it right and shag ass. Isn't like Dad's gonna know, right? Hell, he's gonna do the same thing. Don't ask, don't tell is one of our family mottos. Might be fucked up, but there you have it.

I'm okay. I'm all right. Couldn't expect to ride with Dad forever. We got a job to do out here, remember? Saving people, hunting things.

I got work to do.

Tuesday: one more chapter from John's POV. And after that, we're finished, folks.