Chapter 6:

The headache continued to persist through the next few days. He also found himself feeling nauseous when he woke up. He groaned as he got out of bed, looking to the chair that usually housed his friend. Finding nothing, he got up and immediately dressed. Making a brief stop at the bathroom once out of his room to help with that queasy feeling in his stomach.

He went out to the kitchen, finding Castiel sitting at the table, reading a news paper. His friend seeming to have taken the liberty of raiding his drawers for the third time in the week. Today, sporting a pair of jeans, slightly too big, and a plain grey shirt he had that made his eyes more pronounced.

Looking around, he saw that they where alone. Good.

"Morning." He greeted, sitting down with his friend.

"Good morning Dean." Castiel greeted. Turning the page of the paper.

"So, I've got a question." Dean started. "What's with the act for the past couple of days? You know, stealing my clothes, eating, not zapping me around everywhere."

"I thought, given your father's history, to act human for the time being would be best. I find it also beneficial to keeping my grace stored for any future issues." Castiel answered, continuing to look at his paper.

Dean took this in, and believed that it might actually be a good idea. But that brought a couple more questions to mind. He looked to Castiel, taking in dark circles and redness around his eyes.

"So your sleeping to?" Dean asked.

"Yes, it actually helps to replenish the grace I do use. I've been showering as well." Castiel answered.

"Right, that's a good plan. So how long you plan on keeping this up?" Dean asked, recalling all of Castiel's other attempts at acting human.

"For as long as I am able." He answered, getting up and busying himself with the coffee pot.

"Okay then." Dean said, slapping his hands down on the table to push himself up. This, if anything, was going to be a fun thing to watch. "Well, if your sure about this, will it be safe to continue to spare with me?" He asked, worry evident. He needed some way of working off some of the extra energy the mark was giving him.

"That is the only thing my grace is being use for at present." Castiel answered with a small smile. "Are you needing a session at the moment?"

"Yeah, I do." Dean said, tilting his head down a bit.

"Well then, we should remedy that." Castiel said, heading in the direction of the gym. Dean moving quickly to follow.

Dean slammed into the mat for the third time in the past hour, feeling the tight ball in his chest loosen. He let out a pained laugh and slowly got up. Castiel standing over him with a smile. His hands at his sides, and his chest rising and falling with each breath.

"Are you done, or would you like to go again?" Castiel asked, keeping his smile in place, and having a slightly playful look in his eye.

"Yeah, yeah. You beat my ass again." Dean said, rubbing his shoulder and wincing.

Castiel offered a hand to Dean to help him up. Dean grabbed on and lifted himself while Castiel pulled, feeling the heat from his hand spread through his body. These work-outs, while not the only physical thing he would be liking to do with his friend, where definitely a big help. Though he was starting the think it wouldn't be Castiel squirming underneath him, if the way he fought was anything to go by.

"Let's just go and make some breakfast before Sam get's in there and starts making something healthy." Dean said, patting Castiel on the back and walking out of the room. He needed some water.

He walked through the halls, back into the kitchen where the prepared coffee pot set, hot and ready. He retrieved two mugs from the counter, feeling his hands shake while he was holding them. He looked down at his hands, he hadn't noticed the shaking earlier. But now that he'd noticed it, he couldn't seem to make it stop. Maybe if he just focused on doing something, keep his hands busy. Nodding to himself, he went to the cub-bards to see what to do for breakfast.

Pulling down some pancake batter, he measured out the suggested amount, some spilling out on the counter when his hand gave a violent jerk. Cursing to himself, he looked over his shoulder to find he was alone. Maybe Castiel had opted to take a quick shower while Dean was cooking. Regardless, he was thankful. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but he definitely didn't want anyone seeing it.

He added the water and eggs, and began stirring the mixture, happy that his movements where manageable while doing so.

While he was pouring a portion of the batter onto the pan, the scent hit his nose, and another wave of nausea hit him. He made quick work of heading to the bathroom, leaving the pancake on the pan.

He ran into an empty bathroom, and stood at the toilet as the queasy feeling over took him. Depositing the little contents of this stomach, felt his hands shaking horribly. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the cold sweat that had accumulated there.

"Damn it." He swore, walking over to the mirror and looking at his pale complexion. He breathed deeply a couple of times before rinsing his face off with cold water. "What is wrong with me?" He asked his reflection. Not being able to find an answer, he walked back out to the kitchen, seeing Sam at the stove. Flipping a golden brown pancake in the pan. The remains of Dean's first attempts at breakfast sitting to the side. Burned to a crisp.

"Hey." Sam greeted, his hair wet and freshly showered. "What happened to you? You don't usually leave the stove on for things to burn." Sam said, turning to his brother, and stopping at the sight of him.

"What?" Dean asked, going to the liquor cabinet. Maybe he just needed a drink.

"Are you okay? You look sick." Sam said, voice rising in concern.

"I'm fine. Nothing a bit of Jack won't fix." Dean said, opening the cabinet, and reaching up without looking. His hand however, meeting nothing but air. He looked up to see the thing completely bare. Slamming the cabinet shut, he took a deep breath and looked to his brother. "Where's the liquor?" He asked his brother who was busying himself with the pancakes, refusing to look at him.

"I poured it down the sink." Sam mumbled, flipping a pancake in avoidance.

"Sam?" Dean asked, inclining his head closer to his brother to hear him better. "Didn't get that."

"I poured it down the sink." Sam repeated in a slightly louder voice. Dean looked at him with a blank expression before it turned quickly into irritation.

"Okay, I'm gonna ask this once." Dean said, holding up a hand and pointing at his brother. "WHY?"

"Well, I may have let slip to Dad that you where detoxing, as a excuse for your anger. But I couldn't really tell him about the mark, you know Dad. He would have gone ballistic and ended up doing something to hurt you, or get himself hurt. So..." Sam hedged. "I had to tell him something that would be a reason to keep you here. Otherwise he would have found a hunt in a matter of hours, and tried to drag us along with him. Which is not a good idea in your current state."

"Get to the point Sam." Dean ordered, he really was not in the mood.

"I may have told him that you where an alcoholic." Sam admitted, bowing his head down in shame.

"You what?" Dean asked, face going red.

"It was the only thing I could think of Dean." Sam explained. "I mean, you do have a bit of a problem with it. It wasn't that far fetched."

"Great." Dean started, lips rising on his face in a mockery of a smile. "Just great. So now, I have absolutely no way of dealing with the stress from this thing." Dean said, gesturing to his arm. "That is making me want to kill people. Brilliant idea Sam. Now what am I supposed to do." Dean yelled.

"Well, you've been sparing with Cas all week long." Sam defended. "Are you saying that's not helping you at all?"

"Not as much as you think." Dean answered, before grabbing his hand and groaning as another wave of nausea washed over him.

"You sure you're okay?" Sam asked, turning off the stove and walking over to his brother.

"Fine." Dean bit out, swaying a bit.

"No, your not." Sam said, helping his brother to his room. "Come on, back to bed."

"I'm fine, Sam." Dean argued, before stopping in his tracks and running to the bathroom again.

"Sure you are." Sam said sarcastically, following his brother and waiting out in the hallway. "Go to bed, Dean. I'll bring you some soup later." Sam said, heading back to the kitchen.

When finished, Dean thought maybe going back to bed was a good idea. He left the bathroom, walking through the halls. He walked past the library, seeing Castiel bent over a mountain of books. His faced scrunched in concentration. Dean figured he was probably looking up some way of curing the Mark, and kept walking. If he laid down, maybe all this stuff will go away.

"Came on, back to bed." John heard Sam say, as he led Dean out of the kitchen. He looked to the stove, seeing the batter and pancakes. Walking over to it, he turned the stove back on and started finishing the batter for breakfast. Thinking it best to let Sam handle whatever was going on with Dean. Knowing his oldest was most likely to lash out at him, if he's not feeling well. Dean was always angry when he was sick.

He heard Sam come back into the kitchen, and start pouring himself some coffee.

"So, what's wrong with your brother." John asked, looking to his youngest and offering him a plate of pancakes.

"Vomiting, tired, headache, you know. The signs of early detox. No big deal, he just feels like crap." Sam said, taking the plate and walking to the table. "He'll probably sleep a few hours and then be his usual cheery self when he wakes up." He finished, adding syrup to his short stack. John gave him a disbelieving look. "Okay, maybe not cheery."

"I didn't think so." John said, sitting down across from his son.

They began to eat in silence, just the scraping of knives and forks on plates, with the occasional gulp of coffee was heard throughout the kitchen. John watching his youngest as he ate, taking note that he had let his hair grow out, and he looked a lot more adult then he'd been ten years ago. Which was understandable. But while he was here, alone with Sam, there where several things from the other night he wanted to get more information on. He hated having to destroy the peacefulness, but it was eating at him.

"So." John started, Sam looking up from his plate. "The other day, your brother mentioned something about Adam. You guys met him then?" He asked, he didn't really know the kid very well, but he was his son. John was going to be concerned about him.

Sam seemed to stop and think before answering. Whatever he was going to tell him, John had a feeling he wasn't going to like it. He seemed very reluctant to tell him anything about the topic. John steeled himself, realizing that he was about to get some bad news.

"No, we never actually met him." Sam answered slowly, looking back down at his food and not meeting his father's eyes. This course of events was easier for him to hear.

"Boy, look me in the face when you talk to me, and tell me what you mean." John said, his father's skills kicking in. Sam was a grown man, he needed to look ahead and talk to someone with confidence, no matter who it was.

"Sorry sir." Sam said looking up. "No, we never actually met him. We got a call on your phone a couple years ago from him. We didn't believe it at first, so Dean ran all the test. But then he told us that he called because his mom was missing." Sam started, looking at his father's face. No matter the differences they had in the past, or how long he'd been dead, he still understood that tone of voice. That no nonsense tone that demanded obedience. "When we got there, we found a lot of blood in the vent under her bed. Later we found out, Adam wasn't even Adam anymore." Sam said.

"What do you mean?" John asked, a cold feeling creeping into his stomach.

"He'd been eaten by Ghouls, and they where using his form to try to coax you into a trap. Apparently you missed a couple when you where in that town. Only killed the dad." Sam explained. "Unlucky for them, you where already dead. Unfortunately, that didn't stop them from trying to kill us. But at least we knew how to defend ourselves." He finished, then added after a thought. "I wanted to thank you for that, by the way. I know I hated you when I was a kid, but now...I'm glad I know how." He finished, sending his father a grateful look.

"I just did what I thought was best by you boys. I thought I was doing the same with Adam, keeping him away from all this. I was so stupid. I didn't really have a choice with you two, but I thought he would have had more of a chance. But I guess I was wrong." John admitted, trying his best to keep himself calm. What Sam had said was affecting him more then he'd care to admit, but he'd lost a son, due to his dishonesty. As well as his inability to keep himself under control. He should have at least used protection when he'd hooked up with that nurse.

"Dad, I understand now. A lot better then I did before." Sam consoled. "But I am going to remind you. Dean and I are adults now. We have our own system, and it's been working pretty well with us for the past few years. I know once this is done, your going to want to go on hunts again. But we can't just be ordered around like soldiers. This is just a heads up to let you know. That way, we can avoid as many arguments as possible."

"I understand that." John said, he had made a vow to himself to change. Be more of a father, and not a drill sergeant. "I've been given another chance to be a better father, and I'm gonna do it. It's gonna be tough. But I'm gonna try." John agreed. He had been given another chance, and he's going to make it a good one.

Okay, there is another one. Dean's symptoms are going to start picking up on him. John's made a promise to be a better father, but how well will that go, I wonder?

Anyway, hope you liked.