Sam didn't blink. He just stared, eyes narrowed, at his father. John stared back with equal resolve, eyelids twitching with the strain of remaining open. Both men were stubborn, both refused to back down, both believed that he was right.
"Let me go, Sammy," John finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen as soon as Dean had slammed the door. "Let me go and we can take it out. We can end this, son."
"How can you say that?" Sam demanded, "it's Dean. "We're talking about Dean. The man would give his life for you!"
"The man would."
"It's still him," Sam argued, "he's exactly the same, dad."
"No. He's a monster, Sam, something we hunt. You just can't see it because-"
"Because what? Because he's my brother? Because he raised me? Because he forgave me for leaving him? Because he was there when my girlfriend died? Because he sits up with me when I have nightmares? Because, no matter what, he always puts me first, even before himself? Please, dad, enlighten me as to the reason of my apparent stupidity."
"He isn't like a little lost puppy that you can bring home and housebreak, Sam. He's dangerous."
"He can control it," Sam stated for what seemed like the thousandth time. Why did his father have to be so stubborn? Why couldn't he see what was right in front of his eyes? Dean was Dean. He'd always been Dean, and he would always be Dean. Nothing had changed, not really.
"So you've said," John muttered, his patience obviously wearing thin. He'd almost forgotten how hard it was to reason with his son when he truly believed that his way was the right way. "But for how long? How long before he slips up? How long before he cracks and somebody dies? How long before you see that a monster is a monster, no matter its past?"
"He's careful," Sam pointed out, "it's harder to control it when he first changes, so he locks himself in the bathroom. He only comes out when he's sure that he's all right."
"He could break down the door," John reasoned, "you know that. He's strong. I saw the window in that last motel room, son. He could get out if he really wanted to. He could still hurt you."
"He makes me sleep with a knife under my pillow, dad. A silver knife. It's right there." He pointed to the pillow that lay under his father's head. "He actually gave me permission to kill him if he ever wigs out in the middle of the night. Does that sound like a monster to you?"
"It's all a trick, Sammy."
"He saved me," Sam argued, growing more frustrated by the minute, "that werewolf you sent me after- the one that bit him- caught me off-guard in the forest. It would have killed me, but Dean jumped outta nowhere and scared it off. He saved me. He wants to save you, too, which I don't get. I mean, you've been hunting him down to kill him for nearly half a year now. It's still Dean."
"You can tell me that until you're blue in the face, son, but it doesn't change the fact that he was bitten."
"It's not his fault," Sammy said, tone pleading, eyes begging his father to give in and understand, to finally abandon the hunt that threatened to tear their family apart, "it's ours. Don't you get it? You left, I left, and he couldn't handle it. He was alone, he felt unwanted, and he got reckless on the hunt. What's the point of being alive and well if no one wants you around?"
"He told you that?" John asked, voice and eyes softening. He'd seen the look in his eldest son's eyes as he'd left, had acknowledged the raw pain and desperation there and chosen to ignore it. Sam had a point.
"No," the younger man shook his head, "'course not. He's Dean. He doesn't share and care. But while you were hunting him, I was watching him. He's happiest when we're together, that much I know for sure. It's even easier to see when he changes. I get the feeling that, no matter how hard he tries, he's never gonna be able to control that tail."
John couldn't help but grin at that. "He has a tail?"
"Oh, yeah," Sam nodded, "and a cold wet nose, and one bent ear, and," he paused, smiling, "and incredibly wet tongue."
The older hunter cocked an eyebrow. "What was that last one?"
Sammy shrugged, still grinning. "It's nothing. We got into a shoving match the other day, wound up rolling down a hill, and he pinned me down and licked me. Just typical brother stuff."
John smiled, his body relaxing, expression softening. "You really believe this, don't you?"
"If I didn't, do you think we'd be having this argument?"
"Good point." He sighed. "Tell you what. You untie me, and I'll stick around town long enough to kill the vampire that attacked me. That should be enough time for you two to get out of town and lay low."
"You'll stop hunting him?"
John closed his eyes, blocking out the hopeful look in his son's eyes, the same look he'd seen in Dean's eyes so many times before, when he'd been promised a holiday spent as a family or something that he'd begged for or for John to stay just a little longer. "I can't promise that."
"After all of this-"
"I can't just let him go knowing what he is. It's things like him that kill people, that killed your mother."
"He is nothing like that demon."
"Just untie me and leave."
"No."
"Why not?"
Sammy sighed, running a hand through his shaggy hair. "Because Dean wants to save you. Thinks he's got something to prove. Like saving your life is gonna change the way you think about him. But you and I… we both know it won't change anything, will it?"
John opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as the door opened and Dean walked in, carrying a couple of bags of take-out. "Lunch time!" the werewolf announced happily.
o0o0o0o0o0o
One of the many joys of fatherhood, John had discovered over the years, was getting to play mediator. That task was a lot easier when he wasn't tied to a bed, though.
"We can't leave him alone!" Dean shouted for the seventh time, a number John knew with certainty because he had counted.
Sam replied with an eye roll. "Well, we can't stay here and hunt for the vamp at the same time, now, can we, Dean?"
John watched his sons, dreading the spark in his oldest boy's eye that meant that he had an idea. "Yes, we can," Dean said slowly, "if we split up."
"No," Sam snapped.
"Why not? I can stay with dad-"
"No way. If anyone's staying with dad, it's gonna be me."
"Not sure if you've been keeping track, Sammy, but the moon's full for more than one night in a row, and you had a point in the park. I'm not exactly as inconspicuous as I could be. Besides, dad's tied up."
"What if he breaks out?" Sam argued, trying to ignore the fact that his brother had a valid point.
Dean shrugged. "I knock him out and tie him up again."
"What if-?"
"Look, Sam, I get that you're worried, but you don't have to be a girl about it. I can take care of myself, and it's the only way. We need to be ready whether it comes back for dad or not."
Sam sighed, slumping his shoulders in defeat. He wasn't happy about it, and still didn't trust his father, but the conversation he'd had earlier in the day with the man had given him hope. Hope that the hunt might end, that John would come to his senses, that Dean could get his family. He wasn't sure if that hope would last if John saw his oldest son transform into a furry freak of nature, though. After all, the supernatural racism that all hunters seemed to be susceptible to ran deep and would be difficult to combat. Hell, Dean even hadn't gotten over it completely.
"I guess that settles it," John said, startling the brothers. In their fight, they'd actually forgotten he was there.
Dean nodded, his eyes averted from the bed that held his father. "Guess so."
Sam looked at Dean, turned to John, and then looked back at his brother. "Don't take your eyes off him," he warned the werewolf.
"Don't worry," Dean replied quietly, staring up at Sam with determination in his eyes, "I won't."
Sam nodded, not fully comprehending why his brother wasstill so faithful to the man that had trained them to kill, the same man that had abandoned, hunted, and tried to kill him, but knowing that the subject was closed.