I am so sorry it's taken so long to update but I've been really busy. I went on holiday with friend, got a job and working full time and I'm just have some trouble balancing everything. Also this chapter has really been a pain to write, I have all these ideas for later chapters that I can't wait to write and getting past this chapter has been hard. Anyway, really sorry and I promise the next one wont take so long.

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There were not many moments in Dean's life where he had been completely lost for words, his mind unable to cope with what was in front of him. In fact, he liked to think that over the years his ability to deal with whatever crap was thrown his way had improved greatly and there wasn't anything he couldn't deal with.

He was wrong.

So very, very wrong. Seeing his long dead father standing in Bobby's kitchen was enough to short circuit his brain and sent him reeling. Accepting Sam's return was easy, after all, it wasn't first time one of them had come back from the dead, but not John. John who had died long before Alistair and Lilith, before Lucifer and Michael, had no place there. He had lived in a time when spirits, werewolves and shifters were their biggest concerns, when demons were almost unheard of and angels a thing of myth. That time felt like a lifetime ago.

And then there was Crowley. Dean was pretty certain his dad wouldn't approve of his demon lover. Not that Sam would either, but Sam wasn't a problem. His brother would whine, and bitch and stomp his feet but John was dangerous. John could cause serious problems. Dean could feel the warm metal of the ring Crowley had given him burning against his finger.

He never took it off and half the time he forgot it was there but at that moment he had never been more aware of anything in his life. It was like a beacon, standing out sharply and calling attention. He fiddled with it absently, twirling it around with his thumb. Crowley often teased him for wearing on the ring finger of his left hand but it was the only finger it fit comfortably on.

He began to feel light headed and realised with a start it was because he'd stopped breathing a while ago. Forcing air into his lungs was difficult as his body recovered from his brain's little holiday. His attention came back to the room and the back of his neck became hot when he noticed everyone was staring at him.

"You ok son?" Bobby asked hesitantly, clearly not wanting to be the first to break the silence.

Dean snorted and made a beeline for the liquor cabinet. It didn't escape his notice the nasty look John sent Bobby's way at calling Dean son. "Not really no." he choked out, grabbing the bottle of Johnnie Walker and holding onto it like a lifeline.

"I thought you'd stopped drinking spirits?" Bobby pointed out.

Dean laughed bitterly and poured himself a drink. "Yeah well, I thought my brother and dad were dead and yet here we are."

Bobby was right though. He shouldn't be drinking. It had taken him nearly a year before he stopped needing alcohol to sleep or just to get through the day. However, his world was currently crashing down around him so a bit of liquor was justified right? Taking hold of the full glass he leaned against the kitchen counter and stared at Sam and John, trying to think of anything to say.

"Why are you so upset about this?" Sam asked finally, hurt colouring his voice. "Didn't you miss me?"

Dean shifted as the wave of guilt washed over him. Smiling apologetically he walked over and pulled Sam into a crushing hug, trying to ignore the lump in his chest. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't.

"Of course I missed you Sam. You have no idea how much. I'm happy you're alive and I hope I'm wrong, but when has one of us coming back ever been a good thing? Someone bought you two back for a reason, there are going to be strings attached, there are always consequences and those consequences always end up fucking us over!" he explained once he'd pulled back from the embrace.

He could feel John's presence near him and knew the older man was expecting a hug also. Pretending it didn't feel awkward he pulled his dad into a strong one armed hug and moved away much sooner than he had with Sam. Why it felt awkward he didn't know and reminded himself to think on it later. Heading back to his drink he leaned against the counter.

He raised the glass and had every intention of downing it in one shot but something stopped him. He'd worked too hard and for too long getting his life together to throw it all away. He didn't want to end up a drunk like his dad, like Bobby and Rufus. So he put the untouched drink back on the kitchen counter and pushed down the desire to drink it. Thankfully John provided a distraction.

"What took you so long to get here? You on a hunt?"

Dean's head started spinning once more when he heard that deep, rough voice for the first time six years. "No. I wasn't on a hunt. I live in Minnesota."

"You moved out?" Sam asked, surprised.

"Yeah. Bout a year ago."

"So how do you hunt?"

Dean had really been hoping not to have this discussion with John. It was going to be unpleasant.

"I don't. I….retired."

"Retired? What do you mean retired?" John's voice was beginning to take on a very familiar tone. The 'you better not be saying what I think you're saying' tone Dean knew so well.

"I mean retired. As in, I have a mortgage, a nine to five job. I pay bills and taxes. I have a life."

"There's no such thing. You're a hunter Dean! And a damn good one! You can't just quit!"

Six years ago Dean would have backed down when John shot him that look and spoke in that tone. He would have apologised and conceded that John was right and he was wrong. But six years ago he hadn't fought demons and angles. He hadn't stood up against Satan himself and all the might of Heaven. Six years ago he hadn't been to Hell and back, hadn't sat across from Death and held his own. He had stood up to much more powerful things than John Winchester and won. And he'd be damned if he was going to let John order him around like a child.

"I can't?" every once of self control was needed to keep himself from screaming. "I am thirty-two years old. I stopped needed your permission a long time ago. You have no idea about the things I've done, the sacrifices I've made! I have done terrible things but you know what, I've done a lot of good as well. I saved the fucking world, how many people can say that? So I'm done! It's someone else's job now."

"Your job is to save people Dean!"

"I've saved enough people. I deserve to live my own life." Dean growled. No one had any right to tell him he'd hadn't done enough. He'd spent the majority of his life saving strangers. He'd earned the right to be happy.

"Can we not do this? Not here, not now." Sam cut in, pleading softly.

Dean bit back the nasty words he so desperately wanted to throw at John. Sam was right, Now wasn't the right time. Thankfully living with Crowley had done wonders for his anger management skills. Living with a cocky demon you learned quickly how to avoid getting angry, otherwise he would have strangled Crowley months ago. Sighing heavily he turned his attention to Bobby and ignored John's sour face. If he was so angry about Dean quitting, he didn't even want to think about how livid he would be when he found out about the whole demon lover thing.

"Do we know anything? Or are we completely in the dark?" he asked Bobby.

"They arrived separately, hours a part. Sam was first, I was dealing with him when John knocked on my front door. Thought I'd finally lost it. I mean, Sam coming back from the dead stopped being shocking the second time it happened, but John standing on my front step? That's a new one." Bobby shrugged.

Dean sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. He wondered if there was any chance he could just back in the car, drive home and curl up the couch and pretend none of this was happening. Probably not. "So we have nothing?"

"Pretty much."

"Fantastic."

Bobby shifted uncomfortably for a moment, glancing between Sam and John before motioning Dean to follow him into the hallway. "I need to speak to you."

Dean frowned but followed him, wondering what he didn't want to say in front of Sam and John. As soon as the they rounded the corner, out of sight and hearing from the others Bobby rubbed his face tiredly.

"You have to take them to yours." Bobby demanded suddenly.

"What? Why?" Dean asked shocked, he couldn't take Sam and Bobby to his house.

"Look Dean, my patience hasn't gotten any better over the years. John has been here for five hours and I already want to blast him full of buckshot! You have to take him!"

"I can't take him! Either of them! I have a fucking demon boyfriend sitting in my lounge room." Dean hissed, careful to keep his voice down.

"You don't have a choice. Sam is going to want to stay with you and John won't stay with me. What are you going to tell when they ask why they're not allowed at your home?"

"It's not fucking happening!"

…

"Get your shit, you're both coming home with me." Dean muttered sullenly. How the fuck did Bobby get him to agree to this?

Sam smiled and headed upstairs to his old bedroom where his stuff was kept. Neither Dean nor Bobby had the heart to throw it away after he died to it was still sat exactly where he left it. John left to go and raid the garage for the guns he'd left at Bobby's year ago and Dean took the opportunity to slip outside and get some much needed fresh air. He was busy contemplating how he was going to explain to Crowley exactly why he needed to disappear for a few days when his phone rung.

"Hello?"

'I'm not going to be home when you get back.'

"Crowley?"

There was no way he could be that lucky.

'Who else could it possibly be? Fuck, you better hope you never loose your looks Darling.'

"Shove it. Do you know when you'll be back?"

'No.'

Dean desperately wanted to know what Crowley was up to. It must be something massive or he would just get someone else to deal with it. But he didn't ask because he had bigger things to worry about and he was learning quickly not to ask Crowley what he was doing because he very rarely liked the answers.

"Right well, pop by whenever you can."

'I always do.'

The phone went silent and Dean realised the demon had hung up on him. Crowley's complete lack of sarcasm and wit told Dean just how serious whatever he was dealing with was.

"You ready?"

Dean jumped guiltily. He'd forgotten how good his dad was at sneaking up on people.

"Not yet. Waiting on Sam."

John nodded absently and leaned against the car next to him. "We're going to discuss this whole retiring business." he promised after a moment of silence.

"That's going to be hard considering there's nothing to discuss."

"You never used to talk to me like that." John growled.

"You've been dead for six years. Things change."

He was saved from John's angry retort by the arrival of Sam. He pushed himself off the car and slipped in the drivers seat, waiting for Sam to throw his duffle bag in the boot. John sat in the passengers seat and Sam climbed into the back seat. Without a word he started the car and sped off down the driveway.

OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO

They drove in silence for most of the way and Dean was beginning to think that maybe they would reach their destination without any fighting. Once again, he was proven wrong. He was so focused on the road that he didn't notice the light from the street lights catching on his ring and drawing John's attention.

"That's a nice ring."

"Yes it is." Dean muttered, not liking the direction of the conversation.

"Looks like a wedding ring." John pushed.

"Well it's not."

"What kind of ring is it?"

John really wasn't going to let it go and Dean swallowed a curse.

"It's a Luckenbooth. It's an old Scottish love token." Sam chimed in, having leaned forward to see what John was talking about.

"Thank you for sharing that Sammy." Dean hissed, sending his brother a glare.

"You're seeing someone." John grunted, disapproval seeping from every pore in his body. "And it's serious judging from the ring."

"I don't want to talk about it." Dean's tone made it perfectly clear the subject was closed and thankfully John let it drop. For the moment at least.

He hated himself for not wanting to tell his dad about Crowley, after all it seemed hypercritical after his declaration of not caring what his dad thought. But as much as he loathed to admit it, a tiny part of him still cared about John's opinion. Twenty years of being taught to take orders from the man had ingrained it in him and it was a hard habit to beat, especially with John sitting next to him.

He hated it. It had taken years for him to stop listening to his dad's voice inside his head telling him he wasn't good enough, that he'd never be good enough. Years to overcome the constant self doubt and an hour with his dad caused it all to unravel and he was back to being old Dean again.

Thankfully his words halted the conversation and they continued the drive in silence but he could still feel the combined heat of Sam's questioning glancing and John's disapproving ones. The rest of the journey passed quietly and as they pulled into his driveway, Dean couldn't help but smirk at the look of shock on Sam's face.

"Christ Dean. You went full on domestic."

The words drew a huff from John and Dean was sure he could actually feel his own blood pressure shoot through the roof. It was becoming clear that the same words and attitude that would once have caused waves and quilt and a sense of failure now only caused contempt and the urge to break something, preferably his dad's jaw. He would definitely have to keep an eye on that.

He stepped out of the car and headed up to the house. Walking up the five steps to the his front door had never caused such twisting in his stomach. He was trying to remember if he had anything in the house that would give Crowley and himself away. Thankfully neither of them liked posing for pictures so that wasn't a problem.

The only thing of Crowley's he had was a blood stained suit but that was already in the laundry basket so it wouldn't be a problem. By the time he'd finished mentally scanning the house, Sam and John were standing behind him with their bags. So with a quiet sigh and ignoring the voice inside his head telling him this was a very bad idea, he unlocked the door and gestured for them to go inside. They stepped into a dark hallway and Dean flicked on the light before throwing his keys onto a small table near the door. He guided them into the living room and rubbed his eyes, it was getting late and his eyes were burning.

"There's a spare bedroom at the end of the hall but someone is gonna have to take the couch." he muttered, taking of his jacket and throwing over the back of the arm chair.

"I'll take the couch." John spoke up before Sam could speak.

Sam shot their dad a thankful look and Dean was beginning to think their time apart had done John and Sam good. If he was lucky they would get through this with as little screaming as possible. Well at least until they found out about his little demon love affair and then the screaming would probably wake the neighbours.

He had no delusion that he would be able to keep it a secret for much longer. They were both tired and still reeling from the past few hours but tomorrow would come and so would the questions. If you're living with someone, where are they? Can we meet her? What's her name? Why wont you tell us Dean? If it's not serious, why are you wearing what looks suspiciously like a wedding ring? Dean, why are there another man's clothes in the laundry?

"Right well. I'm going to bed. Yell if you need anything." Dean sighed turning away and leaving the room before John or Sam could say anything.

He knew he was acting like a child and his dismissive nature towards them was both hurtful and unnecessary. It wasn't their fault this was happening but he just couldn't deal with it at the moment. He dragged himself to his bedroom and closed the door behind him. He kicked o his shoes across the room, followed by his jeans and shirt.

He stared at the mess and was glad Crowley wasn't there to yell at him for not picking up his clothes. For someone who spent a lot of his time elbow deep in blood and other bodily fluids, Crowley really was anal about keeping the house clean. Throwing himself on the bed he buried his face the pillow with a groan. He should be in the middle of another round of mind blowing sex right now but instead he was in bed alone, dreading the morning.

The tension in his body was making his head hurt and he rolled over onto his back. Closing his eyes he breathed deeply as his hand drifted over his chest and inched down to the hem of his boxers before slipping inside. He hadn't done this in a long time but desperate times called for desperate measures. He relaxed his muscles and allowed his favourite fantasy to take over.

OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO

The morning came sooner than Dean would have liked and with a headache already beginning he made his way to the kitchen. Any hope of the night before being a highly realistic dream was dashed when he saw Sam sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper and his dad was rummaging through his fridge. Fuck me.

Dean moved over to the kettle and made himself a coffee before leaning against the kitchen bench, staring at his dad who was swearing at a bottle of orange juice.

"What are you doing?" he asked finally.

"Where's the beer? You have three different juices but no fucking beer." John grunted unhappily, pushing aside a packet of butter as though the beer was hiding from him.

"It's seven in the morning." Dean pointed out. Apparently being dead for half a decade hadn't done anything for his dad's drinking problem.

All he got in answer was the crash of the fridge door being slammed shut and a disgruntled look.

"What happened to you Dean?" John asked, sitting down next to Sam.

"I grew up." Dean answered simply, taking his place at the table.

John snorted and stood up suddenly, leaving the kitchen with a huff. Suddenly Dean didn't feel so bad about acting like a child, apparently it ran in the family.

"So what's her name?" Sam asked suddenly, gesturing towards Dean's ring.

"Crowley."

Sam froze and blinked at him stupidly. Dean's eyes widened as his brain caught up with his mouth. His stupid, stupid mouth. That was not how he'd planned on telling Sam and he thanked every god he knew that John had already left the kitchen. The silence between them was deafening as Dean waited for Sam to speak. It took a moment but he eventually saw the understanding spark in Sam's eyes and his jaw clenching in anger.

"Are you shitting me?" Sam hissed angrily, leaning over the table. "Crowley? Crossroad demon Crowley?"

"No, the other Crowley we know."

Sam's eye twitched and Dean cursed silently. So not the time for jokes Dean.

"You're fucking Crowley?"

"Kind of?"

"Kind of? Yes or no Dean?" Sam pushed and Dean could almost hear Sam's teeth grinding.

"Yes."

Sam leaned back in the chair and shook his head in shock. "I knew it! I knew you were too close! You know you have to stop right? Dad will have a heart attack."

"I can't do that Sam."

"You have to! Find someone else to fuck."

Dean sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. He was just thankful Sam was yelling, something he had a feeling would change in the next ten seconds.

"We're not just having sex Sam. We live together, have done for a year. I love him." Dean whispered. There were only two people he'd ever admitted that to.

Sam cocked his head and looked at Dean liked he'd just grown a second head. Dean become worried when Sam hadn't blinked in a while.

"I'm not sure what to do that information." Sam muttered slowly. "This is so wrong I don't even know where to begin. You have to end it Dean."

"No. I have a life with Crowley and I'm not giving that up. Not for you, not for dad, not for anyone."

"Dad's right Dean. You've changed, and not for the better. What happened to the Dean who used to dry heave whenever he was in the same room as a demon?"

"I'm not going to explain myself to you Sam."

"Fine. Then how about you explain yourself to dad?"

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam's not so subtle threat to tell dad. He suppressed a snort, his little brother had a lot to learn about offering ultimatums.

"You know what Sam, that is a excellent idea! And after you've told dad about Crowley, I bet he would love to hear all about Ruby and your little demon blood addiction don't you?"

Sam shifted in his seat uncomfortably and glared at Dean.

"Or, you can mind your own god damn business and we'll both keep our mouths shut. How does that sound?" Dean asked, smiling innocently.

Apparently one of the better skills he'd picked up from Crowley was how to blackmail someone successfully.

"Where's dad?" Dean asked, suddenly realising John hadn't returned from his storm out.

"Look, fine! I'll keep my mouth shut!" Sam was clearly terrified of John finding out about Ruby.

"Yeah that's great. But seriously, where's dad?"

Dean stood up, his stomach twisting as his instincts kicked in. Something was wrong. He hesitantly made his way to the lounge room, Sam following behind him.

"Dad?" Dean called out, not liking the silence that answered.

The lounge room was deserted but there was something in the air that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Cursing his utter lack of any weapons, his stomach jolted when he saw his dad spread out unconscious on the floor behind the couch.

"Fuck!"

A sharp pain to the back of the head.

Darkness.

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Well there it is. I know it's not very long but I did my best even though I don't really like this chapter very much. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and please review.