okay, so another kinda short chapter, i know...but once again, i felt this chappy should end just the way it has. Hope everyone agrees...thanks for reading and for all the awesome reviews!! Bambers;)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

"Dean, can I have a word with you?" John asked, his voice low and as close to pleading as Dean had ever heard.

"Thought I already told ya that I had nothing left to say to you." Dean flinched at how cold and harsh his own voice sounded to his ears. Before Dominic had entered their lives and virtually destroyed the foundation on which the Winchesters lived, Dean never would've considered speaking to his father in such a manner. "An' besides, I really don't wanna leave Sammy alone for too long," he added when he saw the profound hurt reflecting in his father's eyes.

"I'm jus' askin' for a few minutes. Bobby an' Deacon will keep an' eye on Sammy."

It was on the tip of Dean's tongue to tell his father to go to hell, but when he looked into the eldest Winchester's sad, heartbroken eyes, the words died away on his lips. "Okay, but make it quick cause I wanna get back to Sam."

After telling Bobby and Deacon where they were going, John and Dean strode down the long hospital corridor in silence. From lowered lashes, Dean chanced several glances in his father's direction, noting how his shoulders drooped and his stride held little of the confidence that had always been a constant in John's stature. Dean realized with startling clarity at that moment that Dominic had broken John as well, his deep-seeded scars were just not visible to the naked eye.

For all Dean's anger and hatred toward his father, John had done his best to rescue Sam and him from the cult. His father had put aside his need to hunt the Yellow-Eyed Demon to come to their aide when they needed it the most, and Dean had just cast aside that hard cold fact as if it were nothing. But for whatever John had done to help them, Dean couldn't forget that Dominic had been right about several things.

John had raised him to be a hunter; Dean's own wants and needs had never been important and had been casually tossed aside as if they meant nothing to the eldest Winchester. His father had made it abundantly clear over time that Sam was more important than Dean. His life held untold value unto which Dean could never hope to equal. Although Dean never had begrudged his little brother the place he held in his father's heart, just once Dean wanted to know that he mattered. He wanted to know that what he felt and hoped for in life was every bit as worthwhile as his brother's needs and desires. John had failed miserably in that respect, and that had been just the kind of thing that had made it very easy to believe whatever Dominic had told him.

Once they had reached the chapel area of the hospital, John pushed open the door, let Dean walk inside and followed. John gestured toward a pew in the far back corner of the room, and once seated, his father sat beside him.

For what seemed the longest time, John remained quiet with his head lowered. With hands loosely clasped, resting on his thighs, he leaned forward to glance up at the large ornamental cross on the altar.

"When your mother died," John began is a low strain voice, "I really thought it was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. She was my life an' my heart." Tilting his head to the side, he looked Dean in the eyes, tears shimmering in his own. "I believed at the time that the demon had stolen everything from me, but I couldn't jus' lay down an' die no matter how much I wanted to."

A sob caught in John's throat as his shoulders sagged a little more with the weight of his overwhelming sadness. Clearing his throat, he once again lowered his head. The shame his father was feeling washed over Dean as his own guilt surged within his soul.

"I had no idea how to raise you an' Sammy. An' God only knows I made a lot of mistakes along the way. But all I knew was that you two were a part of her, an' I needed to protect you both from what had taken her from me."

"Dad, I — " Dean tried to stop his father from saying more, but his father quickly cut him off.

"No, Dean, let me finish." John took a slow deep breath as he wiped the tears from his cheeks. "More times than I care to imagine, I pushed aside what you and Sammy needed cause I thought I was doing right by you both. But, Sam," he let out a wry chuckle, "well, that boy always had a mind to do whatever he had his heart set on, and it usually was exactly what I had told him specifically not to do. So I guess I probably worried about him more. An' I know he hated me for it most of the time, but I jus' couldn't afford to let him make mistakes that could've gotten him killed."

"Dad, Sam loves you," Dean uttered, feeling his father's sorrow coming off of him in crashing waves. "He's just always had a mind of his own. Even when he was little, he always questioned everything."

"Yeah, I know that. But this isn't about Sam . . . it's about you." John shifted in his seat to look at Dean, and let out a weary sigh. "Most people seem to think that I jus' see you as the good little soldier, doing whatever I ask without question . . . that's jus' not true, Dean." he shook his head as he rested his hand on Dean shoulder. "You're a part of me, Dean . . . you're my heart, so much like your mother that it scares the hell out of me most of the time. An' the demon knows it . . . so I distanced myself from you, an' I know that's wrong . . . an' I know it makes you think I don't care, but God, you have to know that I do."

"Sometimes I jus' needed . . . ." Dean's voice trailed off, eyes blurring with tears as he thought of all Dominic had said and done to him. He was fairly certain that he could have lived through the pain of all the torture, but the words had eaten away at his soul until there was nothing left but the certainty that he was worthless in the eyes of his father.

"You needed what, Dean?"

"I . . . I needed to know that I meant more to you than jus' bein' another worthless hunter in a battle we have no hope of winning." Dean drew in a breath, and swiped away the hot tears trailing down his cheeks as he looked into his father's eyes. "I could take you walkin' away to do your job if I knew for sure tha' you loved me as much as you love Sam, an' were proud to call me your son. I — I don't know that . . . I never did."

His father's face crumpled, his body trembling as he choked on a sob. Pulling Dean into a crushing embrace, John's heart-wrenching cries filled the sanctuary, and tore at Dean's battered soul. "I c-could never be any prouder of anyone than I am of you, Dean. I need you to know that."

John fell silent as he looked to the cross on the altar once more. His lips quivered as he drew in a staggering breath, his heartache so painfully evident that it stole away Dean's breath. "Sam called me no less than twenty times to tell me tha' you were missin' . . . an' I don't even know how many times Bobby called after the calls stopped coming from your brother . . . I didn't even bother to call Sam back . . . you both could've died, an' was so caught up in tryin' to kill the demon that I couldn't see anything beyond that."

Dean leaned forward in his seat, laid his elbows on the back of the pew in front of them, and lacing his fingers together, rested his face against them. Although it wasn't surprising to hear that his father had ignored Sam's pleas for help, Dean's heart still clenched painfully. If John had just listened for once, had taken the time to make one simple phone call, maybe Sam wouldn't be in the hospital right now. If he had just returned at least one of those calls for help, maybe Dominic would be dead right now instead of hiding out somewhere just waiting to hunt them down again.

"You should've called back, Dad," Dean breathed softly, with his heart lodged firmly in his throat. "I can understand your reasoning, but I can't forgive you for it. Cause with what we do, there's always gonna be a next time . . . another town, another chance that we might need you, an' you're not gonna be there." He squeezed his eyes closed as more tears slipped down his cheeks. "An' I'm sure you think that it'll never happen again . . . that you'll be there . . . that you'll answer that call in the middle of the night. But you won't. An' I know that cause I know you probably better than anyone else. I may not be as smart as Sammy, but there are some things I know for certain, an' you not bein' around is one of them."

For a moment, Dean thought his father might try to argue, might try to say that Dean was wrong, that he would be around if they needed him in the future, but the silence grew deafening as he waited for a response that never would come. But to Dean it was almost a relief that he had said nothing because a silent truth was better than a spoken lie. And truthfully, if he had said he would answer the next call for help, Dean would always be waiting for the next disappointment, and didn't think his heart could take the pain again.

"But that's jus' who you are . . . it's what you've been since the demon killed Mom. An' you know what . . . ." Dean hesitated as he turned to look at his father and saw the pain so clearly etched in his dark eyes. "You've always been my hero . . . the one person I always thought was out there protecting people from evil . . . an' ever since I was little, I wanted to be just like you. But I don't want that anymore . . . I just wanna be the man my little brother can count on to protect him when everyone else has turned their backs on him. I don't need anymore heroes, Dad, cause eventually they always let you down in one way or another."

From the broken expression Dean saw on his father's face before John lowered his head, Dean realized that nothing he could have said would hurt his Dad more, but couldn't find it in himself to take it back. He had always forgiven his father for every time he had been careless in his regard toward taking care of Sam and himself. He had made more excuses for the eldest Winchester's lack of concern than even he cared to admit. Had always found reasons why the hunt was more important than family, but he just couldn't do it anymore. If his father couldn't figure out that family was more important on his own, then he really didn't deserve the excuses Dean made for him.

"You're right, Dean," John finally managed to choke out, his voice heavily laden with emotion, "I'm no one's hero, but I've never claimed to be that either. I do what I do out of revenge a lone . . . an' maybe some good has come out of it. I've saved some people . . . an' I'm pretty sure they're grateful for what I did. But I've never been able to save those I've cared about the most. Your Mother . . . you an' Sam . . . I've always been jus' a little too late when it really mattered." Scrubbing his hand across his beard, John peered around the sanctuary, and then his glistening gaze settled on Dean. "But you, Dean, you've always been different than me. Before you, I'd never known anyone besides your mother who cared more for people. I can see your heart in your eyes, an' it makes you special . . . more than just a cut above the rest. From the time you took Sammy in your arms an' saved him from the fire, you've always been someone's hero . . . an' truth be known, you've always been mine."

Dean swallowed hard as more tears sprang to his eyes. The sincerity in his father's words meaning more to him than all the torture he had endured. "You d-don't mean that," he uttered, not quite believing that he had heard his father correctly.

"With all my heart an' soul, I mean it, Dean," John wrapped his arm around Dean's shoulder, "I'm so damn proud you're my son . . . an' I don't want you to ever doubt that again."