Chapter 2

After a rather long but totally warranted fish-out-of-the-water look had been passed between John and Dean, did Dean finally mustered up enough energy to open his mouth.

"Dad?"

There wasn't a reply to be heard. He was getting seriously worried and just about contemplating to check the signs of stroke in his father, while Brad, who technically was the reason if his father did die of a stroke, continued to stand in silence behind him. The only sound his kid did let out on occasions was the sound of suckling as he sucked the syrupy essence out of his cherry flavored lollipop, which he had acquired from somewhere in between his father and grandfather's staring match.

"Ho-wha-whe-huh,?" John asked him, something he was sure was supposed to come out as every word of the wh family of the English language. But sadly, what the older man did manage to let out didn't mean a damn thing in any language of the world.

"I'm pretty sure that's not a word," spoke Brad in a sage voice around his lollipop. Dean shushed his little Shakespeare, who was the last person to comment as he didn't even know his ABCDs all that well until the very last month, and instead turned toward his father.

"I can explain."

"Oh, you damn well will."

John, apparently, had regained his ability to form coherent English words and ordered sternly before he swiftly left the room, shutting the door after himself.

After making sure that the salt line at the doorsill wasn't disturbed and the door was firmly shut behind him. Dean moved to have possibly one of the most weird conversations he had ever had with his father in all his twenty-eight years of being alive.

"Explain. Quickly. Now," John ordered, his inner drill sergeant self coming to make an appearance.

Single words. Not even full sentences. So his dad was still very much shocked. And pissed. Huh. Well, if the situations were reversed, he would have been none the wiser.

"So, um, he's my son."

John waited, and when no further explanation poured out of Dean. He sighed in frustration, and it must have been visible on his face. If Dean's subsequent paling and the pace at which words started rushing out of him were anything to go by.

"Obviously, you know that now," Dean said with a sheepish grin that did nothing to change the expression on John's face in the slightest. He sighed but moved on to explain, "So, you see. I met this chick on a hunt you had sent me on with Caleb in New Orleans. About six years ago. And one thing led to another and..."

He trailed off, not really wanting to explain how biology works to his dad. When the very man was the one who had given him 'the bees and the birds talk' when he was twelve. He had given it himself to Sam when he was sixteen. The kid had his head buried in books so much so that it took him four more years than Dean did to realize what wonder the opposite gender really was. Though Sam did already know everything, and granted, there wasn't much to offer him in terms of knowledge. But Dean did tell him about some of his own personal experiences, which he thought might help the kid down the road, regardless of Sam thinking (and loudly protesting) otherwise. He shook his head, kind of getting off track.

"Do you remember what I gave you on your twelfth birthday?" John asked, more tired than angry as he dragged his hand down his face. Thinking back on Dean's childhood and his way with the women, he should have already been expecting this. He didn't know why he was even surprised. Women (young or old) were attracted to Dean the same way flies were to honey. Though he had instilled in both his boys the right way to treat a lady and to know when to back off.

How could anyone forget your parents giving you a box of condoms as your birthday gift? Dean may have been a little bit 'couldn't keep it in your pants sort of guy' even in his teen years , and he had made good use of the 'gift' since the time he had turned thirteen and a very long time after that. But the point remained that it was embarrassing as all hell.

"I should have asked you some follow-up questions after our 'talk' to see if you have truly understood. You were rather weak in biology," John muttered to himself but loud enough that Dean heard it pretty clearly.

"How long since you have known?"

"About ten months."

Dean winced as his dad swore. He was feeling quite guilty about not telling his dad about Brad.

"Why, Dean?," John asked, and Dean was sure he saw hurt in his father's gaze as he waited for an answer.

"I thought you would want me to give him up. And I can't do that. I won't. " Dean answered truthfully. He still wasn't sure what his dad really thought about Brad. But he won't give up his kid for anyone.

"Dean Michael Winchester -"

Dean shivered at the use of his full name in that hard tone of voice he recognized so well. When he was a kid, this very tone was usually followed by a trip to his father's knees. Thank fuck, he had grown too old for that.

"-listen to me. I will drive a bullet to my heart before even suggesting such a thing as abandoning my grandson." John said with conviction, his fist clenched at his sides, his gaze so intense that Dean had to avert his eyes for a moment before he could muster up enough strength to look at his father again.

"While I'm not pleased with the way you felt as if you had to hide him from me. But he's a Winchester, my grandson. And despite what you and your brother think of me, I'm not that heartless."

Dean felt his insides twisting up in guilt as his dad pinned him with a hurt and disappointed look. He honestly didn't know what he had been thinking. His dad hadn't been answering his phone then, and suddenly, there, he had been out of nowhere being informed over a phone call that he had a son. What was he supposed to do?

"Dad, I... you weren't picking up my calls. And neither was Sammy -"

Dean ignored the way his father tensed as he said that he was trying to contact Sam. As if he could ever stop himself from checking up on that kid. He didn't comment on it. He just continued speaking, "So what was I supposed to do? I couldn't exactly leave a voice-mail saying, 'Hi dad, just so you know you're a grandfather now so come meet your grandson', now could I?"

There was silence after his explanation, more like exclamation, which was only broken up by the sound of his father's palm hitting soundly with the back of his head.

"Ow!"

"Drop the attitude, Dean. Or I will do it for you."

"Yes, sir."

"Where's the kid's mother?"

"She died in a car accident. That's when I got a call about Brad." Dean didn't elaborate, and John didn't ask him to. They stood there in silence as if paying their respects to the woman they never knew. Besides only knowing her as the one who had given birth to the youngest Winchester in their family.

After a while, John asked softly, "What's the name of my grandson?"

"Bradley James Winchester," Dean replied in an equally soft voice and watched as a smile took over his dad's rugged face.

"Well, come on now. Don't just stand there, Dean. Introduce me to my grandson," John ordered, and before waiting for him to say anything, he turned on his heel and started walking towards the room.

Dean continued to stand there. And he thought about how he never got a chance to tell his dad that he was now not only a grandfather but a grandfather to a child warlock. May be that could wait. Yes, he didn't want his dad to die of a heart attack now, did he. The man almost had a stroke when he first heard he had a grandson. God only knew what would happen when John learned that his grandchild was a child wizard.

"Dean!"

Dean shook himself and followed his dad into the room as John yelled his name.

A/N: Hey, y'all.

I hope you are still enjoying this story. Please drop a review and let me know what you think.