Title: Paint it Black 4/9
Pairing: John/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3190
Disclaimer: If only John and Dean were mine... *sigh*
Warning: Drug abuse, Sexual abuse, Violence

Summary: Dean's been keeping secrets. His family's not sure how to deal with that.

A/N: Yay! It's finally being beta'ed! Thanks to wickedlilwitch, who finally recuperated from Unrelated. If there are mistakes, blame her. J/k. Any mistakes are my fault as always.

Chapter Four

One Week Ago…

"So… you seein' anybody?" Dean's voice was relaxed for the first time in a long time as he slouched on the couch next to Sam.

Sam felt his face warm in a blush. "Sort of."

Dean gave him a knowing smirk, but Sam noticed that the shadows were still in his eyes. Whatever was bothering his big brother was still there. "How do you sort of see somebody? Either you are or you aren't."

"Her name is Jess."

Dean's smirk turned into a toothy grin. "She hot?"

"Dude! Is that all you think about?"

Dean softly kicked him in the shin, and Sam suddenly realized that this was the first time Dean had touched him the entire time he'd been staying here. "That a yes or a no?"

"Yes, Dean. She's… gorgeous."

"Have you managed to get past second base yet?"

Sam shook his head and blushed. "I cannot believe you, man."

"Oh, com' on! I'm your big brother. If you can't tell me, you can't tell anybody."

"Yes, okay. Our relationship is… serious."

"Is that code for your having sex?"

"Dean!"

"Sammy!"

"You're such a dick."

"I'll take that as a yes." Dean snorted and took a sip of his bottled water, some of his good humor slipping away. "That's good, man. I'm happy for you."

"How about you? I mean, I know you used to slide into home with a new girl every week, but there anybody special yet?"

"Yeah, there was one person."

"Really? Who is she?"

"He."

"What?"

"It's a guy."

Sam stared at his brother. "You're gay?"

"No… 'M bisexual. And I lean strongly towards bein' straight. The number of men I've been interested in can probably be counted on one hand. Okay, maybe two. Two and a half. That's my story and 'm stickin' to it. Anyway, I just… happened to fall in love with one of 'em. Can't explain how. Doesn't even matter now, though." Dean sounded suddenly sad. "It's over."

"How the hell did I not know you're bisexual?" Sam asked, bewildered. It wasn't like Dean was private or even tactful about his sex life. There was no hint of embarrassment in his admission that he'd been almost as prolific with men as he was with women, either. So how had Sam not realized this?

"Like I said… I liked girls more. And I had a hell of a lot more experience with them."

"Does Dad know?"

"Yeah, Sam," Dean said as if it had been a crazy question. "Who else do you think I talk to about potentially confusing shit?"

"I dunno. Bobby. Pastor Jim."

"Yeah. Sometimes I talk to them. Hell, sometimes Dad sends me to 'em. But no, I usually go to Dad first. The first time I had a crush on another guy, I thought there was somethin' wrong with me. Dad straightened me out though." He laughed at his unintentional pun. "Figuratively speaking, anyway."

"So he was cool with it?"

"Yeah. What'd you think he'd do? Kick me out? Tell me I could only look at girls? He bought me lube and told me to be careful about which kinds of condoms I used."

"Why?"

"I guess he didn't want me to catch somethin' that might make my dick fall off, Sammy."

"No… I mean why did you have to be careful about which kinds of condoms you use?"

"'Cause some degrade with certain types of lube. Don't they teach this stuff in sex ed or somethin'?"

"I'm not gay or bisexual. Why would I pay attention to that?"

Dean looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "You do know straight people have anal sex too right?"

"Uhm, yeah."

Dean snorted softly. "Dude, you are so vanilla."

He scowled at brother but didn't take the bait. "How'd Dad know about the lube and condom thing?"

"He's Dad. He knows everything. Besides, you know him. He's as bad with researching everything as you are. When he found out I was bi, he looked up everything he could find. I'm shocked he didn't join PFLAG."

Sam snorted. "Whatever, man. So what happened with the guy you were with?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why's it over?"

Dean shrugged, shutting down again. "It just is. It wouldn't have worked out in the long run anyway."

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

Seven Years Ago…

"Why don't you take your brother outside, Dean?"

The boy looked from John to Jim and back again nervously before nodding. "Yes, sir."

John watched as Dean herded his little brother out of the house. "I don't know who the hell he is anymore, Jim," he blurted as soon he was sure the boys were out of earshot. "Worse, I'm startin' to feel like I never knew who he was. Has he been playin' me like this his whole fucking life?"

"John… you did know him once. This kid, the one who's been lyin' to you every day, is not Dean. It's the drugs. Until he's completely sober, he's gonna lie, cheat and steal. But once he gets sober, you'll have your son back again. Not that there won't be differences, but he won't be this."

"He's off the drugs now."

"That doesn't mean his sober. Just means he's dry. Addiction is a disease that doesn't just affect the body. It affects the mind, every relationship, the entire way he sees the world is warped and twisted by it. He has all sorts of distorted thought processes right now. If lying is the easiest way out of a situation at any given moment, he's gonna lie. He's gonna choose the path of least resistance at the moment without a thought to what might happen down the line. He literally cannot understand long term consequences right now. Like trying to leave the night you caught him with the drugs. Where was he gonna go? What was he gonna do? Go off to some abandoned building or a friend's house and stay high for a few days? Then what?"

"How did I not see it? I'm his father. I'm supposed to protect him from this shit."

"I've seen a lot of families torn apart by addiction, John. You probably made some mistakes. But all parents do. You can't go there, man. You can't sit around tryin' to figure out what you did to cause this. Addiction is a complicated thing and no one factor got him to this point."

"Then what do I do?"

"Got to meetings. It's not enough to drop him off at NA every day. If you're gonna help him through this, you need to go to Al-Anon meetings. Find out how to deal with an addict, to tell the difference between when it's Dean talkin' and when it's his addiction. He needs someone who can call him on his bullshit. Until he starts working on the ways that his drug use has distorted his thinking, that's gotta be you. And hopefully his sponsor."

"Bullshit a theological term, pastor?"

Jim chuckled. "I was a Marine before I was a pastor. You and Dean will find your way again, John. I may disagree with you about some things, but I know how much you love your sons. And I know how much they love you."

Jim gave him a book on cleansing, told him that it would probably be a good idea to completely clean Dean's system out.

He went outside to find his boys in a tree. He squinted up at them. "You mind if I borrow your brother for a few, Sammy?"

Sam glared at him and uttered a sullen, "Fine."

John often didn't know what to do with Sam. Did the boy want more time or less? The things that worked with Dean didn't work with Sam. Of course, the things that he thought worked with Dean obviously hadn't worked with Dean either.

Dean jumped down from the tree and they walked a few yards away before John showed him the book. He groaned he saw the list of things he'd have to avoid for the next 30 days. Red meat, refined sugar, processed foods.

"You really wanna complain," John asked darkly.

Dean sighed. "No sir. I guess I deserve it."

"It ain't a punishment. It's to get you healthy again. You lost twenty pounds. It's not like you had twenty pounds of fat on you. The detox taxed the hell out of your system. You're entire body needs to recover. Jim thinks this is a good way to do it."

"Life without French fries, Dad? That's not a punishment?"

"It's only 30 days, kiddo. You'll be back to eating cheese burgers with extra onions and peanut M&Ms before you know it."

"Thirty days is forever."

John would have laughed it off if it hadn't been for his conversation with Jim. "You're 18. How much is 18 times 12?"

Dean squinted an eye for a second as he quickly worked it out in his head. If the boy was any slower at how fast he was with numbers, John couldn't tell. "Two sixteen."

"You've already lived through more than two hundred and sixteen 30 day periods, kiddo. It's not forever. It's just a few weeks out of hundreds."

Dean blinked at him and nodded. "Yeah. I guess it's not really that long."

"No, it's not. And when you're finished, you'll feel stronger. Think of it as special training. Like Rocky before a big fight. We'll even drag Sammy out of bed at the ass crack of dawn to go runnin' with us before school."

"You're gonna… you're gonna do it with me?"

"Of course. I told you I'd be right there with you every step of the way. I'm even gonna start goin' to meetings too."

"You're comin' to my meetings?" The boy looked alarmed and John couldn't help the laugh that he barked out.

"Dude! I'm not going to NA with you. There are these meetings called Al-Anon. They're for family members."

"Oh. Will it ever be like it was again? Between you and me?"

"No, son. Least I hope not. I want it to be better. I wanna trust you 'cause you tell me the truth, not 'cause I think you are. I want you to trust me enough to tell me the truth. I want you to believe that even if I might get mad and yell and maybe even say a bunch of stupid shit I don't mean 'cause my temper's too damn short, I will never turn on you."

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

Three months later, John was leaning against the Impala at a gas station waiting for his sons to come out of the bathroom when Sammy came running out like his hair was on fire.

"Dad!" he yelled before he got halfway to the car. John rushed to meet him halfway. "These guys… they attacked Dean! You gotta help him."

"They… what?"

"They slammed his face into the mirror and hit his head on the corner of the sink! There's blood everywhere!"

"Get in the car!" John handed the boy a gun and shoved him into the driver's seat. "Do not leave this car. If they come out and head your way, drive away."

"But Dad…"

"Sammy, I can't help Dean if I can't trust you to do what I tell you. How many? Are there guns?" He called out as he popped the trunk.

"Three. I didn't see any guns." Sam clenched his jaw shut and watched his father through the open door.

John felt like time was passing too quickly and he was moving too damn slowly. He grabbed two guns from the trunk and headed for the bathroom without a care for the people who saw them in his hands and started to panic. He found the door locked, but he could hear sounds on the other side. He landed a solid kick against the door next to the nob, sending the door flying inward in a shower of splinters.

Sammy hadn't seen a gun, but he knew that didn't mean there wasn't one. Thankfully, though, there still were none in sight as he entered the room and pointed the guns as the heads of the two nearest boys. Dean was slouching in the corner with one eye swollen shut and glaring with the other. The boy was bleeding badly from a head wound, the entire side of his face black and blue. Both his hands were loosely fisted and held up in front of him, the upper part of one arm pressed against his side.

The other boys were standing in a semicircle around him, just out of reach. Their attention was immediately on John and the two guns pointed in their direction.

"Am I interruptin' somethin'?" John asked, the casualness of his voice belying his anger.

"You a cop?" One of the boys sneered at him.

"Nope."

"Then this ain't none of your business old man," a vicious looking mutt who seemed to be their ring leader snarled.

"That's my son you got corned. That would make this my business."

The boy glared at him. "What're you gonna do? Shoot us? Steal the rest of our drugs?"

"What?" John looked from the kid to Dean and back again. "Look. I don't know what he did and frankly I don't really give a damn. You're leavin' right now. Or I'm gonna start shootin'."

The boys left, the ringleader glaring at Dean before walking away. "This ain't over."

John rolled his eyes. Talk about an idiot. If he were a different kind of man all he'd have to do was pull the trigger to make sure it was. Once the boys were gone, he went to his son. He cupped the boy's face and winced as he looked over the damage.

"Dad-"

"Not now, Dean. Do you need a hospital?" Dean pressed his lips together and shook his head. "You absolutely sure?" There was a nod. "Okay. I'm gonna take you home and clean you up there. You can tell me all about it tomorrow. Tonight we get outta dodge."

For once, Sam didn't complain about leaving town in the dead of night. He even packed his own stuff in record time so he could help Dean, who had at least one cracked rib in addition to a whole chorus of bruises and scratches. And he didn't complain about the necessity of leaving most of his books. In fact, he didn't even have to be told to cut back on what he was packing. It was such a refreshing change that it almost eased the knot of tension in John's stomach. He decided to go to the cabin for a few days, get his bearings and figure out what they were going to do.

He drove through the night to get there. He wasn't going to spend another night somewhere he wasn't sure his boys would be safe. Once he got the boys settled in and Sam was dead to the world he went outside to think. He was sitting outside on the front porch staring up at the early morning sky when Dean came out. The boy was so black and blue just looking at him hurt.

"His name is Sugar and he's a drug dealer."

"Sugar?"

Dean shrugged with one shoulder, his arm wrapped around his ribs. "I stole a hundred pills from him."

John frowned at his son. "You stole drugs from a dealer?" He repeated slowly. He had to stop himself from asking why he wouldn't have just broken into a pharmacy. At least they wouldn't try to hunt him down and kill him.

"I had to replace the pills I took from the kit before our next hunt! I was desperate and he wouldn't let me buy them."

"He wouldn't? Why?"

"He wanted to… he wanted to barter instead."

"Barter? What the hell did he want? Did he want you to steal somethin' for him?"

Dean shook his head. "He's a pimp too. He was pissed that I wouldn't… that I'd rather steal or run a scam then… he said I'd make more money on my knees and even more if I… went all the way. But I told him that I didn't wanna do that and I wasn't a whore. That I had the cash and I could get more other ways, but he laughed at me. Said I was a whore if he said I was a whore. I just… freaked out. I punched him and took the whole bag he had on him and ran."

Son of a bitch. He suddenly regretted not shooting the little bastard. It wasn't enough that he had John's boy out there stealing and scamming for cash to give him for drugs. He wanted to make even more money off Dean by selling his ass on the street and keeping him under control with a steady flow of pills. As stupid as stealing the pills had been, it was probably the better alternative. Of course, the best thing would have been for Dean to walk away altogether. John couldn't let himself ignore that, couldn't allow himself to make excuses for Dean's behavior. "And you didn't think the angry drug dealer slash pimp that you'd just humiliated and stole from would be lookin' for you?"

"I'm an idiot, Dad, but I'm not that stupid. He didn't know who I really was or where I lived. I made sure of it. He lives two towns over. Just dumb luck he saw me outside that gas station."

John sighed. "You're not an idiot, son. But you've been lettin' the drugs do all the thinkin' for you for too damn long now. What if he'd seen you when I wasn't around? What if they'd grabbed Sammy too?"

Dean stared down at his bare feet. "I didn't think of that."

"I know you didn't. I know you'd never put Sammy in danger on purpose. But you're not thinkin' straight yet. Is there anyone else that would want you dead for any reason? Anyone else you stole from or scammed that would be lookin' for you?"

"I don't think so."

John sighed. That would have to be good enough for now. "How about the rest of the pills you stole? There should be at least 75 more somewhere. Well, I tossed the 30 or so you had in your pocket, so 45."

"I gave 'em to a friend. She probably used 'em all by now."

John was glad they were gone. He never wanted to see another Oxy pill the rest of his life. He sighed and put an arm around his son and pulled him close. The boy melted against him, trembling slightly. "I won't let anything happen to you. You just gotta stick close for the next few months and make sure you stay armed. Keep your eyes open."

"I'm so fucked up, Dad," the boy said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"I know, kiddo. But you're gettin' better. Every day, you're gettin' better."

"In some ways it was better when I was on drugs. No matter what was wrong I could just pop a pill and it would all go away. Only it wasn't gone. I was just too fucked up to care. I don't wanna go back to that, Dad. I don't wanna be numb anymore. But this… this hurts."

"I know. But the pain's how you know you're alive."

Dean snorted softly. "Then I'm really, really alive right now."

"Yeah. Me too, kiddo."