Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was great to finally have a night off after one hell of a week. It had begun with a salt and burn that involved a seriously pissed off poltergeist, who had been very much present at her grave, and had tossed Dean and Sam around like rag-dolls to protect her bones. Had it not been for Cas using an Enochian chant to trap her for a few minutes, the Winchesters never would have gotten that grave dug up.
After that, they were all set to leave town, when a damn wraith started getting sloppy and began leaving obvious bodies in it's wake. In true hunter fashion, they'd found the brain sucking bastard and stuck a couple silver blades in his heart. Of course, that wasn't before he'd put up one hell of a fight. He'd left Dean with a few bruised ribs and a dislocated shoulder, and Sam in need of five stitches and a few of Dean's painkillers for the headaches.

But tonight they were taking a break before searching out their next hunt. Dean needed to rest his shoulder before he did anything too strenuous, even if Sam had popped it back in like a pro, and the younger Winchester wanted to have his stitches out before he went and did something that would require he get more.
So tonight, Dean had ordered them all Chinese food, then found a video store with a half decent selection of what he deemed "classics". He had long since forced Sam to watch most of them with him, but Cas still had yet to see Braveheart. Unacceptable. As soon as Dean saw that bad boy on the self, he hadn't hesitated to grab it. Cas was gonna learn why Mel Gibson was a total bad ass with a sword.
After a great supper which had consisted of egg rolls, dumplings, chicken fried rice, and at least four different kinds of noodles that were all a little spicy and very tasty, the hunter popped the DVD into the player. He had to fiddle with the TV a bit before he found the right setting, but eventually, it was all set up.

"Sam, get off that laptop and come sit down. You drop everything when Braveheart is on."

Sam sighed affectionately. He'd been saying for a long time that Dean was a little too obsessed with all the movies he was into, but he wasn't touching that topic with a ten foot pole tonight. Dean had told him he was going out to find a movie, so Sam had already been ready for his brother to bring back one that he'd decided Cas just had to see.

"Fine." the younger brother conceded. "You're lucky. If you'd grabbed one of those Clint Eastwood monkey movies, I'd have gone back to my own room."

Dean held out his arms in mock offence.

"Hey! First off, his name is Clyde, and he's an orangutan. Second, those movies are great, you just can't appreciate good cinema."

Cas watched the brothers with amusement, knowing their arguing was only teasing, a way they showed affection. Sam just rolled his eyes, but smiled as he pulled up a chair next to the bed.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Dean asked. "This is a king, there's plenty of room for all three of us. That chair isn't comfy."

Dean gestured to the empty other half of the bed. Surprisingly, Dean was a cuddly person and had him and Cas tucked close together on one side, the hunter's arm wrapped around the angel, who happily leaned into him, his own hand unconsciously playing with Dean's where it dangled over his shoulder.

"Uh, Dean you know I'm totally cool with you and Cas, but I'm not sitting on a bed that you two have been sharing for a week. You guys really aren't that quiet."

Cas actually blushed, ducking his head in minor embarrassment, while Dean just smirked. Once he had finally told Sam about him and Cas, about a month after there was a him and Cas, Sam had been the fully supportive, non-judgemental brother Dean had always known he would be, reassuring Dean that as long as he was happy, that was all that mattered. Bobby had been just as easy tell. Of course, it wasn't like the older hunter hadn't had a good idea that Dean wasn't straight before he told him.

The older Winchester inwardly winced at the memory of his seventeen year old self getting caught macking on the high school linebacker in Bobby's junkyard. It had been one of the rare occasions John hadn't dragged him along on a hunt, Sam was over at some temporary friend's house, and Bobby was in town talking to the sheriff. Dean had thought him and Kyle were alone, when a gruff and surprised "Dean?" nearly made him shit himself in the back seat of an old Pinto. He could remember practically leaping out of the car, and telling Kyle to go home, quickly whispering that he would see him at school later.
Even at seventeen, Dean had already taken down all sorts of nasty, terrifying things that went bump in the night. He'd been used as bait and kidnapped a couple times when John hadn't quite been quick enough, so he'd become accustom to staying calm in tense situations. He'd never pleaded, never shown fear in the face of any monster.
But, when Kyle had taken off and Dean had been left alone with Bobby, the first thing he did was beg the older hunter not to tell John. He didn't care about Bobby's reaction, too busy working himself up into a hysterical fit to notice the soft look he was getting from the man who was like a second father to him. He vaguely remembered being told to calm down, and that it was okay. Bobby reassured him he wouldn't breathe a word of what he'd seen to John, and that he himself didn't care if Dean had a thing for guys.

The hunter was brought out his revery by a loud banging at the door. He looked to Sam, who returned his confused look. The younger Winchester pointed to his brother, mouthing a silent "Did you...?". Dean shook his head no.

As quietly as possible, the two hunters stood and each grabbed an angel blade from their own bags. Dean turned and saw Cas standing nearby, looking confused and a little worried. Dean motioned for the angel to hide in the bathroom. Cas was barely at half power, and while he wasn't totally defenceless, Dean was not gonna let him get hurt.
The brothers crept to the door on near silent feet. Years of tracking and hunting had trained them in the art of stealthy movement, even despite their size. Dean checked to make sure Cas was out of sight, then threw a quick glance to Sam, who was positioned so that the door would block him from sight when it first opened, allowing him to back up his brother without being seen.

Dean braced his blade wielding hand against the wall, keeping the blade hidden in case it was a maid or the manager at the door.
He nodded to his brother, before gripping the handle and slowly turning it. He opened the door a fraction to peek, freezing at what he saw. His grip on the handle went lax, and the door swung open of its open accord.

"Dad?"

Standing at the door, was a perfectly fine and healthy, if a little exhausted, alive John Winchester. He smiled at Dean, then at Sam who was peaking around the door from his own spot.

"Hey, boys." he said, his voice soft, almost sad with nostalgia.

After the initial shock, both Dean and Sam hardened. Their faces became cold, angry masks as they slipped into their professional hunter attitude.
Dean pulled out a flask, quickly unscrewing the cap and splashing John with what John was sure was holy water. Nothing. Still, that didn't matter much. Lots of monsters didn't react to holy water, there were even some demons who could easily bathe in the stuff without steaming. The next test was salt, provided by Sam. John once again had no reaction. Dean pulled out his silver switch blade, opening it with a practised flick of the wrist. He cautiously grabbed John's arm, holding it out and nicking it with the blade. No reaction.

"Satisfied?" John asked, pleased that his boys weren't getting sloppy in their cautionary measures.

Sam was bigger and bulkier than the last time John had seen him. He wasn't baby faced anymore, and his shaggy hair was now even longer. He seemed more sure of himself, more confident, less cocky.
Dean didn't look quite as different. He seemed... Older. More mature maybe. He'd lost a lot of the softness in his features, and John could see the beginnings of permanent frown lines in his son's forehead and around his mouth. He wondered how many years had passed since he'd died, and what his boys had gone through in all that time. They both looked... weathered for lack of a better word.

"Dad?" Dean asked again.

John stepped forward and pulled Dean into a hug. Dean hesitated, tensing when he felt his dad wrap his arms around him. He slowly returned the embrace with less enthusiasm.
John released his oldest and pulled Sam in next. Dean saw the same hesitation in Sam's reaction, before he patted their dad on the back.

John stepped back again. He had tears in his eyes, but he was smiling.

"Can I come in?"

The brothers moved back into the room, clearing the doorway so their father could enter. They watched their dad give the room a quick once over, eyes pausing when he saw the Chinese food cartons.

"You got any of that left? I'm actually starving."

They both just nodded dumbly, letting John sit down and dig into the last few egg rolls, rice and noodles. Dean snapped out of his shock first.

"Uh, dad... How- How- Why...? What the hell, dad?"

John paused shoveling the food into his mouth.

"I don't know. I just appeared by the Impala. Took a chance it was yours and that this was your room."

Dean mumbled something about going to get Cas, then headed to the bathroom, leaving Sam with their dad.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Sam asked.

John swallowed part of an egg roll with a thoughtful look, before taking a swig of the whiskey Dean had left on the table earlier.

"I remember the hospital. Talking to you and Dean. And... Something about a cemetery."

Sam hadn't been sure his dad would remember his escape from Hell, but it seemed he had some fleeting memories of it. Sam wondered if John knew that when the fight they had been training twenty three years for had finally happened, he was right there with them. The Winchester hoped that his dad didn't remember what had happened to him between the hospital and the cemetery though. Eighty years of torture isn't something anyone would want to remember.

"How long ago was that?"

John's voice caught Sam's attention pulling him back to the present.

"The hospital was five years ago."

John choked on his drink. Setting down the glass, he beat his chest as he coughed.

"I didn't think it'd been that long. No wonder you both look so different."

They both turned when they heard the bathroom door open. Dean came out first, followed closely by Cas.

"Who's this?" John asked. Both brothers could hear the mistrust and caution immediately.

"Dad, this is Castiel. Cas, this is my dad."

Dean's rare use of Cas' full name didn't go unnoticed by Sam, and he smiled a little at how his brother was so proud of his boyfriend he made him sound as impressive as possible.
He could also see his dad giving Cas a once over, trying to get a read on him. Cas did the same, and both brothers were pretty sure Cas was doing some in depth soul scanning, trying to make sure John really was John.

"What is he to you?"

Dean panicked a little, thinking his father's question was directed specifically at him. He could never lie to John. It wasn't like he's never tried, but somehow his dad was always able to tell. And if Dean lied now, John would be suspicious. He wasn't ready to tell his dad about him and Cas yet. God bless Sammy for swooping in right then and taking over.

"Cas is family, dad."

Dean hid his sigh of relief. He was so glad Sam had picked up on his reluctance to tell his dad what Cas was to him specifically. Of course, Cas could not to keep his own mouth shut.

"I'm an angel."

John barely even hesitated before scoffing in disbelief.

"There's no such thing."

He looked to his boys for back up on this. When neither of them denied Cas' claim, the older Winchester's eyes widened.

"There's lots of new things been popping up in that last few years that we've never dealt with." Dean said.

John gave Cas a more skeptical look.

"I always figured if you guys were real, you'd be... I don't know. Bigger. Taller."

"This is just a vessel. My true form is...immensely bigger and taller."

Obvious anger flared up in John.

"You mean you're possessing some poor schmuck?"

Dean subconsciously moved so that he could get between Cas and his dad if the need arose. Cas, on the other hand, was cool as a cucumber, watching John with what could almost be a bored expression.

"No, the man this body belonged to is... Gone." Cas seemed a little sad saying that. It wasn't that he missed Jimmy, it was actually more freeing without him, but the angel felt guilty about what had happened to the man's family. He had promised they would be safe, and he had failed. They were nearly killed, Jimmy died to save them. "He was very devout, he gave me his permission to occupy his body before I took control of it."

John didn't seem convinced, so Dean stepped in.

"Dad, he's telling the truth. We met the guy, Jimmy told us he let Cas in."

Dean was relieved to see his dad relax a little. At least he still trusted Dean's judgement.
The older hunter swayed in his seat, only avoiding doing a face plant by getting a death grip on the edge of the table.

"Dad? You okay?" Sam asked. Despite how often him and their dad had fought, Sam still cared about the guy and had missed him when he was gone. Now that he was back, Sam worried about him again.

"Yeah, yeah I think so. Just real tired."

Sam nodded. Whatever had brought John back would have had to put his body back together too. Being recreated and then having your soul shoved back into your body must be exhausting.

"Okay. Come on. You can sleep in my room, I'll take the couch."

That caught John's attention. The boys had always stayed in the same room, it was safer that way. They could watch each others' backs at night, and it was less likely anyone or anything would try something.

"Why aren't you and Dean sharing a room?" he asked.

Dean felt that same panic from earlier flare up again. John couldn't know. Not yet. Dean wasn't ready for him to know that his son was bi and essentially in a steady relationship with a guy.
He watched the same panic, on a lesser scale, appear on Sam's face. His brother shot him a questioning look. Dean subtly shook his head.

"Uh..." Sam said intelligently. "Cas stays with us, and this time him and Dean are splitting a room."

Thankfully, John was too tired to question it further, and followed Sam out of the room.

"I'll call Bobby." Sam said as he left. Dean just nodded.

As soon as the door shut, Dean released a huge breath he hadn't known he was holding. His knees went rubbery, and he practically collapsed on the bed, flopping onto his back.

"Holy fucking shit."

How in the hell was any of this happening? Why was his dad back, and why now? As far as they knew, John had gone to Heaven after he escaped Hell, but then, they couldn't be absolutely sure. So who brought him back then? They must have had a reason, things like this don't just happen 'cause someone was in a generous mood.

Dean dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and groaned as he felt a headache developing with all these thoughts fighting for attention. He felt the bed sag near him, and he sat up properly next to Cas.

"Are you all right?" Cas asked, clear concern in his voice, emphasized by the hand now resting on Dean lower back and rubbing gentle circles. Dean sighed explosively, letting his eyes shut as he leaned back into the touch.

"It's just a lot for one night, you know? I mean, why is he back? There's got to be a reason, right?"

"There usually is." Cas agreed.

Dean sighed again, slumping against his angel. "We have so much to tell him." he mumbled into Cas, shoulder.

Suddenly, Dean's eyes flew open and he shot off the bed like it had bitten him. Cas watched him with concern.

"Dean?"

"We have to tell him about us." the hunter said, motioning between him and Cas.

The angel was genuinely lost on why that was scaring Dean. Even if he had never been in a proper relationship, surely letting his father know he was in one now couldn't be this terrifying. It seemed simple, and really, Cas wondered why Dean hadn't said something during the introductions.
Dean picked up on Cas' confusion. Normally it was cute, watching Cas struggle to learn the ins and outs of normal human interaction, but tonight he was too stressed to find it endearing.
Cas had told Dean this was his first relationship, and in a way, it was Dean's too. Before Cas, he would have said Cassie was his first serious relationship, but really, a few weeks of sex during a hunt, and one hook up years later didn't really count. At the time, he had been sure he loved her. Thinking back on it now, he'd only ever loved the idea of her. A confident, sexy woman who said what she thought and wasn't afraid to go after what she wanted. But he had never really been fully committed in the first place, not like with Cas. Cas was different.

"Cas, it's just...my dad isn't exactly open minded when it comes to stuff like this."

The confused head tilt which always made Dean smile was present now.

"This...?"

"A gay couple, Cas."

The confusion on the angel's face cleared, soon replaced by what Dean was sure was anger. Anybody other than Dean would have missed it, but the Winchester was an expert at reading his angel by now.

"Why should that make a difference? I care about you more than I've ever cared for anyone, will that mean nothing to him simply because this vessel is male?"

Dean's breath hitched, thinking of all the colourful names and words his dad would spew when he found out his son had a boyfriend.
Cas must have seen the worry on his face, because his features softened as he stood up and moved to stand closer.

"Do you wish to keep our relationship a secret?" the angel asked.

Dean sighed heavily, not sure what to do.

"Cas, you know I'm not ashamed of you, right? I don't want to hide you, but... Can we not tell him yet?"

His angel nodded.

"If it will be easier for you, I'm fine with us acting simply as friends around your father until you feel ready to tell him otherwise."

"Thanks, Cas."

Dean pulled the angel into a tight hug, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Somehow, Cas always knew how to relax him, even if he was a little nerdy, awkward guy. Pulling away, the hunter sucked in a shaky breath and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Shit." Dean turned away from Cas and started pacing the room. "We have so much to tell him. He needs to know about the yellow eyed demon, and the seals, and- Fuck. What is he gonna do when we tell him about mom? Or-"

Dean's worried ranting and pacing was halted by the feeling of strong arms circling his waist from behind.

"Breathe, Dean."

The hunter did as he was told, taking in a gulp of air and letting it out in a sigh. He leaned back into Cas, savouring the warmth and tenderness in the embrace. Castiel rested his head on Dean's shoulder, hugging the hunter tighter to himself as he did.

"We will figure this out as we need to. Together."

Dean sighed again, feeling the tension leave his shoulders as he relaxed into his angel. Reaching over his right shoulder, Dean cupped the back of Cas' head, running his fingers through the messy hair.

"I know. Thanks, Cas."

They stood like that for a few minutes, soaking in each others' presence and relaxing. Eventually, Dean's arm got tired and he let it drop, which set both men in motion. Cas gave him one final squeeze before he pulled back.

"We should try and get some sleep." Dean said groggily. He felt drained.

After both striping down to boxers, because it was way too hot this close to Nevada in July to wear much else, they both climbed under the thin motel sheet. Dean immediately rolled on to his side, and held his arm out in an obvious invitation to Cas. The angel smiled as he scooted in close.

When he and Dean first became more than friends, Castiel had been pleasantly surprised to find that, while Dean was tough, loud and cooky around others, he was surprisingly tender and cuddly when it was just them. The hunter liked to spoon at night while they fell asleep, to have an arm around Cas if they were sitting next to each other, to kiss for no reason other than the joy of kissing. Cas loved it immediately. In all his millennium of existence, simple physical contact for the sake of physical contact was still new to him, and he found it quite comforting and relaxing.

Dean waited until they were pressed flush back to stomach, before wrapping his arm around Cas, nestling it comfortably in the dip between his hip and his rib cage. His free arm was tucked under his and Cas' head, acting as a pillow. He felt the angel's arm settle over his, before their fingers intertwined. Dean knew he was already dangerously addicted to this.
On the rare nights when Cas wasn't with him and Sam by the time they turned in, Dean had trouble sleeping. He would toss and turn, waking up off and on all night, only getting half an hour here and there, because apparently even in his sleep, he was aware that the other half of the bed was empty. The nightmares would come back too.
Sometimes he dreamt of Hell, scorching hot and yet at the same time freezing cold, Alastair's cruel smile as he cut into the hunter, or his own maniacal one as he dealt out some of the pain himself.
Other times, he dreamt of Sam dying, of holding his baby brother in his arms and listening to his ragged, wet breathing slow down until it stopped, feeling his body grow heavier as he lost the energy to hold himself up.
Tonight, it wasn't a problem. Tonight, he had Cas in his arms, pressed against his stomach, all the little noises that he made while asleep reminding Dean that his angel was here with him. That they were in this together. Tonight, Dean slept soundly.

The next morning, Sam awoke first. Slowly, he arched his back and stretched his arms above his head, wincing when his back cracked. Usually it felt really good, but he still had a twinge in it from getting thrown around on the last two hunt, so it was a little tender. Sighing, he let his body relax into the couch again. He knew he would be sore today, he was just too big to sleep on something that small. He hadn't been able to stretch out all night, and had woken up every time he'd needed to shift. Still, it wasn't like he wasn't used to sleeping in worse conditions. If he could sleep in a tent way out in the middle of butt fuck nowhere in January, with nothing but a sleeping bag to cushion the ground and keep him warm, and his snoring brother less than two feet away, then he could tolerate a damn motel couch for a night.

Bringing his arms back from where they were currently resting above his head, Sam tiredly rubbed his eyes. He didn't know what time it was, but he was awake now, and there was no way he was gonna fall back asleep. Sighing again, he forced himself to sit up. The hunter ran a hand through his hair, making a mental note to wash it the next chance he got.
Swinging his legs down onto the floor, Sam threw a quick glance to the bed, where he could barely make out the shape of his sleeping father.

Sam still wasn't sure how he felt about his dad being back. On the one hand, there were things he'd wanted his dad to know, and he and Dean had both missed him after he died. Even after he'd dragged them all over the country for most of their lives, raising them to be something they never wanted to be, yelling and threatening whenever either of them dared to step out of line, for some reason, Sam still loved the guy.
He grabbed his bag from the table and headed to the bathroom, deciding a nice shower would feel great, and would help him clear his mind.

The shower did nothing to clear his head. The second he'd stepped under the hot spay, his mind had wandered again. He wondered how Dean was holding up. Ever since his brother was four, he had always been trying to make their dad proud, and in trying to do so, he had been forced to hide a lot of who he was. Only within the last couple years had Sam begun to get a peak at who Dean really was, and he would hate for their dad to ruin any tentative progress Dean had made. Him coming out formally as bi to his remaining family had been huge, and Sam knew he never would have done it if John had still been around. Sam had seen the fear on his brother's face when their dad asked who Cas was, so like the awesome brother he was, Sam had swooped in and given Dean time to plan his strategy when it came to telling John about Cas. As much as Sam loved the guy, he was worried his dad would mess everything up when he found out.

He walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later, dressed in fresh, clean clothes and towelling his hair dry. John was up, sitting on the bed and frowning at what Sam guessed was the news channel. He looked up when he heard his son.

"Hey." Sam offered, if a little reservedly.

"Hey." John returned.

Sam awkwardly stood on the spot, shifting his weight like a little kid, while his dad watched him from the bed, seemingly at a loss for what to say. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, Sam moved to start gathering his stuff up. There really wasn't much rush, though.
Him and Dean had planned to leave sometime today, but it probably wouldn't be for a couple hours yet. It was still a little early, plus Sam knew his brother slept in when he could. So it wasn't like he had to pack right now, but he needed the distraction, something to break the tension of him and his dad just staring at each other. They hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms, and Sam knew it wouldn't take much for them to start butting heads again.

"So..." John broke the silence first, fiddling with the remote. "How long has the angel been hanging around you guys?"

Sam ground his teeth and forced in a slow breath.

"Cas has been around here and there for about two years now, but in the last five months he's been hanging around more. It's actually pretty rare that he's gone now."

John got that look on his face, the one that Sam knew meant his dad was getting into interrogation mode.

"Why?"

Sam shrugged, tried to play off what he said next as casual, hoping that would make the small fib less obvious.

"He figured he could help more people by working with us."

It wasn't a lie, not really. It was the truth with a lot left out, but it was still the truth. Sam turned to keep organizing his duffel, avoiding his dad's scrutinizing stare. He was sure John somehow knew what he'd told him wasn't the whole truth. Thankfully, he let it slide, changing the subject a little.

"How did you guys meet him? Was it a hunt, or...?

Sam hesitated, and John saw that immediately.

"Not... exactly." Sam started.

John stood up, unable to read the different flashes of emotion on his son's face. He was sure he'd seen fear and grief, mixed with guilt and nervousness.

"Sam," he said carefully, his voice commanding and firm. "How did you boys meet the angel?"

Dean lay stretched out on the motel bed, still panting slightly and unable to open his eyes. His muscles felt like jelly and he was pretty sure nothing short of Divine wrath could make him move. Cas really did know some wonderful ways to relieve stress, and Dean wasn't gonna lie, having Cas wake him and just tell him in a matter of fact voice that he was gonna blow him had been all kinds of hot.
Finally, after what felt like minutes but was probably only thirty seconds or so, Dean managed to sit up somewhat, using his forearms to hold himself. He looked down at Cas, who was still crouched between his legs and smiling at him.

"Better?" the angel asked.

Dean could only huff a weak laugh that sounded more like a wheeze and smile back before falling back onto the bed. After a few seconds, he felt the bed dip at his right side, and turned his head enough to look at his angel now laying beside him. Cas was on his side, head propped up by his hand. His free hand rested on the hunter's bare stomach, drawing slow, lazy symbols with his finger tips. He stopped when he was interrupted by Dean leaning in and kissing him. It was slow and lazy, but Cas knew the meaning behind it. With that kiss Dean could communicate all the things that were too hard for him to say out loud.
The hunter pulled back after a few minutes, resting his forehead against the angel's. Castiel moved to get up, figuring this was the end of their morning moment, and that he should start to get ready, but a warm hand low on his stomach stopped him. He looked back to Dean, and saw a mischievous smile on his hunter's face. Leaning in for another kiss, Dean slowly trailed his hand lower.

A loud knocking on the door interrupted them, and Dean paused, hoping it was room service and he could tell them to come back later.

"Dean!"

Dean sighed and hung his head. Shit. That was Sam. His brother was a damn cock block sometimes. Of course, he knew all he had to to was let out a moan and Sam would leave them alone.

"Dean, open up. It's me and dad."

The hunter's eyes flew open.

"Just a sec!" he called back.

He quickly jumped off the bed and pulled his boxers back up. Cas sat up too, a little slower and obviously a little annoyed at missing his own turn. Dean offered a weak smile and whispered a quick sorry as he pulled on a t-shirt. The angel leaned in and kissed Dean once more before saying he had to take a shower. Dean nodded and ushered him off.
Now dressed in a t-shirt and a loose pair off jeans, Dean did a quick once over of the room, making sure there was nothing incriminating left out that would give him and Cas away. Deciding they were in the clear, the last thing he did was run his fingers through his hair to try and fix it a bit. He hoped it look more 'I just woke up and haven't showered yet' messy than 'I just got some mind blowing head' messy.

Dean barely had the door open before his dad shoved it the rest of the way and stormed in. Before Dean could react or try to move, John grabbed his shirt with both hands and shoved. Dean was vaguely aware of Sam yelling at their dad to stop, before he felt his back collide solidly with the wall. The air rushed out of him in a thick grunt, and his head started pounding immediately after it bounced off the bricked wall.

"Dad, what-!?"

"You sold your soul?!"

Dean shot a confused look at Sam, who returned it with an apologetic one. That was all the clarification he needed. He met his dad's angry glare, and felt his own rage flare up. In one quick move, he moved his arms between where his dad was holding him and pushed out hard, knocking John's grip off of him, then shoved as hard as he could against his dad's chest, giving himself room to get into a light fighting stance. Legs at shoulder width and his left shoulder turned in slightly, hands clenched in loose fists. He mussed that his dad was lucky Cas wasn't in the room when he decided to pull that little stunt, or he would have been met with angelic wrath. Dean knew getting punched by an angel was like getting blind sided by a sand bag. He met his dad's angry glare with his own.

"Did you?!" John demanded.

Dean clenched his jaw and steeled his nerves.

"Yeah. I did."

John turned away, seemingly unable to meet Dean's defiant gaze any longer.

"God damn it, Dean-"

"Don't." Dean's cold anger interrupted John, who turned to look at his son in shock. Dean had never been mouthy, or acted defiant like he was now.

"Excuse me?" he asked, giving his voice a warning lilt, telling Dean to back down.

"I said don't. You went to Hell for me, you have no right-!"

"Yeah, I did! I went to Hell for you. Did you think I was willing to go through that so that you could throw your own life away two years later?!"

Sam was about to step between the two, but Dean shot him a look that quit clearly told him to stay out of it.

"You made watching out for Sam my number one job since I was four! He always came first! I always took care of him before I took care of myself! You told me to! I went to Hell to save him! So don't you dare stand there and tell me what I did was wrong, when it's the reason he's alive!" Dean finished angrily, his left hand pointed to his brother.

Sam knew Dean wasn't accusing him or saying he was a burden, only stating that their dad had put too much on his oldest son's shoulders at much too young of an age.
John stood in place, nearly vibrating in anger and taking in shaky breaths. He clenched and unclenched his fists, looking ready to hit something. Sam eyed him warily. He didn't like his dad looking at Dean when he was in a mood like that, and Dean wasn't too far behind. His brother wouldn't just take a punch anymore, Sam was sure of that. This time, if it came to it, he would fight back with vigour. He'd shown as much when he'd shoved their dad back, clearly done being the punching bag he'd been growing up.

Surprisingly, John dropped eye contact first. He looked around the room, as if searching for something.

"Where's the angel?" he demanded, his voice still carrying residual anger from before.

Both brothers were surprised their dad had changed the subject. John was an extremely stubborn man, but he had apparently decided that either Dean was right, or he just didn't want to continue this fight now. Sam was sure their dad had been expecting Dean to simply let himself be pushed around, mumbling apologies. He wasn't ready for how much Dean had changed in the last few years.

"Cas is taking a shower."

Dean was still just as tense as before, but clearly willing to go with the subject change. Sam decided Dean and their dad could be left along for the fifteen minutes or so it would take to run across the street to the diner and get breakfast. Sam was hungry, and he was sure everyone else was too. And, if anything should happen in his absence, Cas was around. Even at less than half power, the little guy was stronger than any of them, and would have no problem pinning John to a wall if need be.

"I'm gonna just, uh, make a food run."

John and Dean nodded, more to let Sam know they'd heard him than agreeing.

"We'll talk more about the last few years when I get back." Sam stepped out of the room before anything else could happen. He hoped Cas would be able to handle John until he got back.

The unbearably tense silence was broken minutes later when Cas stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of jeans and a Led Zeppelin shirt, both of which he'd borrowed from Dean.
The hunter had told the angel a couple months ago that he couldn't wear the same suit and over coat all the time. Not only did they start to stink, but he stood out more, and they were all trying to keep a low profile right not. But they had been pretty busy for the last few month, and hadn't had the time to go shopping to get Cas his own clothes. Plus, Dean would admit that secretly he really liked seeing Cas in his old clothes.

"Hey, Cas." Dean greeted, a smile lighting up his face as he watched the angel standing in the doorway.

"Good morning, Dean. John." Cas nodded towards Dean's father. His own features, which had gone soft upon seeing his hunter, hardened when he looked at John.

The shower hadn't been loud enough to cover the noises of yelling. Cas had nearly come out when he'd heard it, his instincts to protect Dean much stronger after the last four months, but in the end, he hadn't, knowing if he was truly needed, either Sam or Dean would have called for him. And neither of the brothers were incompetent, both Winchesters had proven time and time again that they were very capable of taking care of themselves and each other.

John didn't return his greeting with anything more than an untrusting glare which Cas didn't understand. Dean broke the tense silence, awkwardly clearing his throat.

"So, ah...Ready to go after that he-witch today, Cas?"

The angel quit his staring contest with Dean's father in favour of walking over to where Dean was sorting through papers on the table. Maybe he stood a little too close, but after what had happened a few minutes ago, he didn't care. He skimmed through the papers over the hunter's shoulder, most of the information he already knew.

"Yes. I'm quite sure it's the supply manager. We should-"

"Wait a minute," John interrupted. "You're on a hunt?"

Dean set the papers down and turned to face his dad.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't we be?"

John looked like he was about to say something, but caught himself. He shot a quick glance to Cas, obviously not wanting to talk in front of the angel too much. Dean sighed, wishing his dad would just trust him and believe Cas was a good guy.
John watched as Dean gave Cas a look he couldn't read. The angel looked as if he was going to protest at first, but a shake of his oldest son's head halted him. The angel gave John an untrusting, almost warning stare before he just disappeared. The older hunter wasn't sure what to be more surprised by. The fact that the guy just...vanished, or that he and Dean had obviously built up enough of a bond to be able to communicate clearly without saying anything.

Dean stood by the table silently, clearly waiting for John to say whatever he hadn't wanted to discuss in front of Cas.

"Don't you think you have other things to be worried about right now? I would have figured the damn Apocalypses might have taken priority over some witch!"

Dean, surprisingly, didn't cower under John's anger. He didn't look away and mumble something about 'yes sir'. Instead, he held his ground and tensely asked; "What did Sam tell you?"

"Enough." John huffed back. "Enough to know that you could fix all this."

"Oh yeah? Did Sammy tell you he's Lucifer's vessel? That if I say yes, Michael is gonna use me to kill Sam? Or that half the planet could be roasted alive if this fight goes on long enough?!"

"Yeah, he did. And you know what happens if you don't say yes? Everyone dies! Everyone we have ever saved, everyone you love, Sam, Bobby, they all die."

Dean was gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were bone white. Mostly he was just trying not to launch himself across the room at his dad.

"If you had just listened to me when I told you if you couldn't save Sam you would have to kill him, we wouldn't be in this fucking mess!"

Dean very nearly saw red.

"Fuck you! You should never have told me that! Did you really think that I would kill Sam? I would rather die!"

Unable to stand his dad anymore, Dean grabbed his keys and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. A few seconds later, John heard the engine of the Impala rumble to life, followed by the squeal of tires as Dean pealed out of the parking lot.

A few minutes after Dean took off, Sam and Cas came back carrying food from the diner. When Cas asked where Dean was, John angrily said he took off. He ignored Sam when he asked why while setting out the food, but he couldn't ignore the dark look he got from the angel before he disappeared again.

"Where's he off to?" John asked, sitting down and halfheartedly picking through his breakfast of sausage, pancakes, eggs and hash-browns.

"Probably went to wherever Dean is. Dad, look," Sam said, setting down his own plastic fork. "Cas is... He protects Dean the way Dean protects me. Cas will always be on Dean's side, no matter what."

John stopped chewing his food.

"So what are you saying?"

Sam paused, choosing his next words carefully.

"I don't know what happened while I was gone to make Dean storm out like that, but... I do know that if Cas had been in the room when you shoved Dean against the wall earlier, he wouldn't have just stood there."

John huffed, turning back to his food for a moment.

"I think I can pull a gun faster than it would take him to get to me."

"Guns don't work on angels."

John paused at that, and Sam could see the worry beginning to creep into his features.

"And neither will any of your knives." The younger Winchester added.

He could see John's momentary panic before it was replaced by anger.

"So what then? I should grovel for his approval?"

"No," Sam said, sounding light and a little bored, as if he hadn't just mentioned Cas might kick his dad's ass. "Just watch what you do and say to Dean."

Sam could tell it unnerved his dad, starting to realize he wasn't in control anymore. He'd never really been in control of Sam, the younger Winchester did what his dad asked because he chose to, but John was used to Dean being obedient and loyal. Now he had to deal with the fact that his oldest was becoming his own person, and was standing up for himself. John didn't deal well with being the low man in the pecking order, but it looked like that's where he was for now.

"And by the way, dad, I'm on Dean's side too."

Dean showed up an hour later. The low rumble of the Impala alerted the two Winchesters to his arrival before he entered the room. When he came in, he did his damnedest not to look at John, ignoring his father's very presence in favour of talking to Sam.

"Me an' Cas got a solid lead on the he-witch. You coming?"

Sam nodded and went to his room to grab his bag. Dean went around his own room, packing up all the weapons he and Cas had laid out to clean earlier.
Dean turned to head back to the door, and saw John gearing up to head out, lacing up his boots.

"You're not coming with." Dean's voice was cold and firm. Final. Had it not been directed at him, John might have been impressed by his boy's ability to take control so confidently.

"Dean-"

"No."

Sam reentered the room then, glancing between his dad and his brother.

"Ready to go?"

"Yup." It was Dean's usual sarcastic anger again. Acting happy when he was actually moments from tearing out someone's throat with his bare hands.

Dean followed Sam back out of the room, stopping in the doorway when John once again made to follow.

"No. You're staying here."

"Dean, I can help-"

"No! Just stay here and...rest."

And with that, he left. John watched from the door as Dean hoped into the car, tossing his bag on to the middle seat. He was surprised to see the angel in the front seat, and Sam in the back. Since when did that happen? Dean didn't even look at him when he left, just pulled out a little quicker than necessary, and floored it onto the road. John guessed that his oldest hadn't wanted to come back here at all, and probably wouldn't have if it wasn't for needing to pick up Sam.
John sighed and hung his head. He went back inside the motel room and closed the door. It was only ten thirty and he already felt exhausted. He sat down on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair.

How much had he missed in these past years? What had his boys gone through that changed them into who they were today? Especially Dean. Sam had always been rebellious and likely to talk back. John could see now a lot of it had been simply because he hadn't always explained why he was doing what he was doing. Sam needed to be in the know and feel like he was part of making the decisions, he hated blindly following orders without knowing the whole story. And maybe if John had been more understanding of that earlier, his relationship with Sam wouldn't be as fucked up as it was now. All Sam had demanded was respect, and that wasn't such an outrageous thing to push for.

Dean, on the other hand, had been totally different. He was fine following orders, doing exactly what needed to be don and asking questions later. He'd tried his best, and all he ever wanted was to make people proud. He was fine hopping from town to town, school to school while he was a kid. He never made friends or girlfriends that he missed, and when John said it was time to go, Dean packed his bags and told Sam to get a move on. He had tried to be just like John, right down to the leather jacket and the Impala, but after the older Winchester died, John guessed Dean had decided he was in charge. Dean understood Sam better though, knew to include him in all the decisions and planning, and to make sure Sam knew they were partners in this.
But John also knew, while Dean had idolized him, Sam had idolized his big brother. He resented their dad for dragging them around their whole lives, and maybe that was part of why he had never wanted to listen to John in the first place, and why he listened to Dean.
John supposed he would never really know. He had missed out on so much of Sam and Dean's lives when they were growing up, that he really didn't know much about them.
Where Sam had kept secrets in an obvious way, angrily telling John it wasn't any of his business, or making up weak lies, almost flaunting that he had a secret, but wouldn't share, Dean had been far more subtle. He played everything off, acting nonchalant and aloof. There were times John couldn't decide if Dean just didn't have secrets at all, or if he was just more careful about them than Sam.
Maybe Dean had always been like this. Maybe, deep down, he'd wanted to rebel and stand up against his father too. Why he hadn't done it more often, John wasn't sure. It couldn't have been fear, Dean was many things, but a coward was not one of them. Had he really wanted to, he could have put his foot down and said 'no' once in a while, but he'd chosen not to. He just went along with his orders. Every now and then, John had seen resentment or anger cloud his oldest boy's face, but he'd rarely acted on it. The few times he did were usually on Sam's behalf, and usually because his brother and his dad were fighting again, and Dean didn't want it to escalate to someone throwing the first punch.

John groaned and rubbed his eyes with the heals of his hands. Did he really know so little about his own sons that he could only theorize why they acted the way they did? Thinking back on it now, he realized that they had probably never really been themselves around him, not completely. In their own ways, they had been secretive and superficial, probably only ever relaxing and truly being themselves around each other or alone.

The need to stop thinking for a moment was rapidly becoming a priority for John. He stood up and looked around the room, desperate for something else to do.
Dean had taken all the guns and knives with him, leaving nothing for John to clean or sharpen. He still had his own .45 with him, but after he'd gotten it back last night, he'd cleaned and serviced it before putting it under his pillow. The three inch blade on his switch blade was sharp as ever, the edge put back on by his boys after every hunt they'd used it on. While he was proud of them for being so thorough, not leaving weapons or fake ID's behind, it left him with few options for things to pass the time.

John walked over to the little dinky table under the window. The food Sam had brought back was long cold, and even though he knew it was a waste of money, John threw it out. He didn't think he could stomach food right now, and he was sure they would all be leaving town after this hunt, so they couldn't have leftovers.
With that done, he once again sought out something to occupy the hours it would take the boys to wrap up the hunt and get rid of the body.

There was always the TV, but it was eleven o'clock on a Wednesday, and daytime TV was worse than silence. Still looking around the room, John noticed it was fairly well kept. No wrappers on the floor, no empties stacked on the table, no dirty towels hanging on doorknobs. Hell, even the damn bed was somewhat made.
John's train of though screeched to a halt. The bed. The only bed. The only bed in a room being shared by two guys. How had he just noticed this? He felt confusion and worry building up in his chest, but he tried to be reasonable. The parking lot had been pretty full last night, maybe when the boys had checked in, this and Sam's room, both two king rooms, were the only two left. Maybe Dean or the angel was using the couch. John tried to reason that even if they were sharing a bed, that didn't necessarily mean anything. Dean used to shared a bed with Sam, it was just something they did when there wasn't enough room. Dean was just being accommodating.
John felt himself calm down. Everything was fine. His boys might have changed in the past five years, but they hadn't changed that much. Especially not Dean. He was a ladies man if John had ever seen one, the older hunter wouldn't be surprised if his son had bedded more women then he had.

With his mind made up, John abandoned that train of thought and settled down on the couch. He pulled the coffee table closer, and pulled out his .45. He knew that after serving in the army, then hunting for over twenty years, something as simple as field stripping a weapon was second nature to him, but it never hurt to practice a bit anyways. And trying to beat his best time would kill some of the boredom until his boys got back.

The hunt was easy. Cas had been right in guessing the witch was the supply manager at the factory, and if they'd had any doubts, walking in on him about to start another ritual had pretty much sealed the deal.
One bullet to the head and a fast drive out of town to the nearest field later, and the he-witch was taken care of. In all honesty, Dean had been disappointed. He didn't like being thrown around or cursed, but the dude had barely even put up a fight. For someone determined enough to learn witch craft and kill two people, he'd been pretty pathetic when two Winchesters and an angel burst through the door, guns raised with purpose.
Usually Dean would have loved a nice, simple hunt. Hell, the hardest part of this one had been hauling the body out of the storage room he'd been hiding in, but the Winchester wished the whole thing had taken longer. He really wasn't too keen on going back to the motel and seeing his dad just yet, especially because as soon as they picked him up, they would have to be back on the road again, and then all four would be confined to a car for a couple hours. Dean just hoped if he blasted some music everyone would take the hint and shut up.

They got back to the motel around nine that night. It was still bright out, which meant hitting the road without the cover of darkness. Dean hated that. He was pretty sure no one had seen the Impala at the warehouse while they ganked the guy, but still, he could never be sure. He loved his car, but hell if it didn't stick out. If anyone saw it, it would be easy to ID. That's why they hit the road after every kill, couldn't take chances like that. But leaving during the day was riskier than at night when it was harder to see, and there were less people out. Dean guessed they didn't have a choice this time, but it was like digging up a grave or burning a body in broad day light. It made him feel naked and vulnerable.

They left the bags in the car, only going into their rooms to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything and to get their dad. Dean told Cas to stay in the car as he went in. Partly because he knew Sam would claim shotgun if the chance arose, and Dean knew their dad would hate having to sit in the back seat with Castiel for hours, and partly because Dean knew if he was gonna be able to get through this drive, he was gonna need Cas beside him. With the cover of the bench seats, it would be easy to casually reach over and hold his angel's hand once in a while.
Dean went into his and Cas' room, thanking every god he didn't believe in that he always put their supplies back in his bag every morning if they were used the day before, because he knew he wouldn't have remembered to hide them this morning before his dad burst in, and he certainly wouldn't have been slick enough to grab it before he'd stormed out. He could just imagine what would happen if his dad found a nearly empty bottle of lube in the bedside table, tucked in between a box of condoms and the bible. Yeah, that would be a great way for him to find out about his son played for both teams.

His dad wasn't in the room at the moment, Dean was sure he'd just headed back into Sam's room after they'd left. He appreciated not having to see John just yet.
Doing a final, much more thorough search of the room, Dean grabbed the few stray shirts left in the bathroom, and tucked them into his duffel. With everything packed, he headed back out to the car. He could see Sam's room door was open, the light shinning through, and though he couldn't distinguish words, he could hear the low rumble of his dad's voice, as well as Sam's slightly higher one. Dean tossed his bag into the trunk, then slide into the driver's seat.

"Are you alright?"

Dean inwardly groaned. Cas, who couldn't pick up on social cues or body language half the time, could read Dean like a book.

"Yeah, Cas, I'm just... Tired. I guess."

It was obvious Cas could tell there was more to it. When he and Sam had returned to the motel with food earlier that morning to find Dean gone and John in a bad mood, Cas had immediately been concerned for Dean. Having not known what had happened in his absence, and fearing that perhaps Dean had told his father about them and been met with disgust or hate, he'd flown to him immediately.
Cas had found his hunter just out of town, the Impala parked on abandoned property, with Dean practically shaking on the hood. Cas just sat down next to him and waited for the hunter to talk. He sat and listened as Dean told him what his dad had said, and how he could never have killed Sam, no matter how bad it got. Cas didn't say anything as Dean paced and ranted, letting out years of built up frustration that stemmed from how his father had raised and treated him and Sam. By the end of it, Dean was exhausted and close to crying. The hunter sunk back down next to the angel on the hood of the car, eventually leaning into him with some encouragement. Cas still hadn't said anything. He wrapped an arm around Dean's waist, squeezing gently to comfort the hunter as he placed a chaste kiss to his temple.
Eventually, Dean's breathing had evened out and he'd let out a huge sigh. Cas felt the tension in his hunter's shoulders ease slightly, and he was glad for it. Dean was already so stressed, he didn't need more added on.

A few minutes later, Sam and John came out, effectively cutting off any further questions Cas might have had. Dean's grip on the wheel tightened until his knuckles were white, and Cas could see his hunter grinding his teeth. He wanted to reach over and hold Dean's hand, but he knew he was still meant to act as nothing more than a friend. While his knowledge of normal human interaction was still expanding, he was fairly certain holding hands was not something friends normally did.

No one said anything when Sam and John climbed into the back seat. John wouldn't meet Dean's angry gaze in the rear-view, and Sam did his best to look out the window and avoid what was going on between his dad and his brother.

After half an hour or so on the road, the sun had set and John had fallen asleep in the back seat. Dean relaxed a little under the new circumstances, but he was still tense and angry. Castiel couldn't stand it any longer. He knew he probably wasn't meant to, but the oldest Winchester was asleep, so he figured it was okay. He reached across the seat and gripped Dean's free hand in a reassuring squeeze. He watched as the tightness in his hunter's shoulders and face slowly ebbed away, and felt the hand in his grasp squeeze back. Dean looked away from the road to shoot him a weak smile, but it was enough to let Cas know he was thankful.
They reached the next town half an hour later, Cas hadn't let go of Dean's hand for the rest of the ride. Once they found the nearest motel, the hunter parked his Impala by the office and started to move to get out.

"I got it." Sam volunteered. He'd seen the little exchange between his brother and the angel, and he'd also seen Dean's reluctance to give it up just yet. He could only imagine how stressed Dean was, especially considering he didn't know what had gone on between him and their dad while he was gone, only that Dean had stormed out and refused to talk about it when he'd come back. Sam was pretty sure Dean hadn't told John about him and Cas. If he had, no doubt John would have said something about it, or asked Sam questions earlier.

Sam came back a few minutes later and handed Dean two sets of keys. He leaned in, resting his hands on the window frame of the car so he could easily see his family.

"Mine and dad's room is two down from yours and Cas'. You two go ahead, I'll get him." He said, gesturing to John, who was still passed out in the back seat.

Dean smiled gratefully. Sam moved to allow Dean room to get out, watching as his brother opened the trunk and grabbed his and Cas' duffel, as well as his own weapons bag. Sam had noticed that Cas rarely wore the overcoat and suit getup anymore, unless they had to pose as FBI or reporters. Now, he mostly borrowed Dean's stuff. Sam had asked his brother about it one day, and all Dean had said was that he had been meaning to get Cas shopping for his own clothes, but they hadn't had the time or extra money. Meanwhile, it meant they didn't have to carry a third clothes bag, and no one was complaining. Except for that one time Cas had worn one of Dean's favourite Zeppelin shirts on a hunt, and had gotten it sprayed with blood. Dean had definitely complained then. Thankfully all the blood had come out in the wash.

The hunter and the angel headed for room 8, while Sam woke their dad and told him they were at the next motel. John stumbled out the door, still groggy and disoriented from sleep. He waited while his son grabbed a backpack as well as a duffel. He guess the latter was a weapons bag, and was glad his sons hadn't slacked off on their safety measures while he was gone.

"Where'd Dean and the angel go?" John asked. He still sounded annoyed, but was evidently not awake enough yet to be properly mad.

"To their room. You and me are bunking together again."

John just nodded. He assumed it was because Dean was still mad and didn't want to share a room with him. After all, he hadn't said one word to him since he'd come to pick up Sam for the hunt earlier that day, and John got the feeling he would continue to do so for a while longer. Sam didn't bother clarifying.

After getting his dad settled in, a process that took less than ten minutes, Sam quietly snuck out to go to Dean and Cas' room. He'd been surprised at how fast John had crashed again, simply kicking off his shoes and flopping on the nearest bed. He'd mumbled something about salting the windows before he was out like a light. It seemed he still hadn't fully recovered from coming back, something the younger Winchester reminded himself they needed to research as soon as John and Dean could talk to each for more than five minutes without fighting.
Sam was just closing the door to his room, when the door two rooms down opened. Dean, who clearly didn't need to sneak out, caught his brother's worried look before closing the door and tucking the key into his jeans.

"I'm going for a drink." He said, glancing at the bar a block and a half away.

The small bar was still clearly open, though the lack of cars out front could change that soon. It was already getting close to one in the morning anyways.

"I was just coming over to see how you're doing." Sam carefully allowed, waiting for Dean's reaction. He wandered closer to Dean as he spoke, until there was only a few feet between them.

His brother sighed and ducked his head a bit.

"You know, Cas weasels enough chick flick moments out of me for the both of you."

"Dean, shut up." Sam didn't really sound annoyed, just tired and a little frustrated. "What happened at the motel this morning?"

Dean huffed and looked towards the bar again, clearly wishing he was there instead of talking to his brother here.

"And don't say 'nothing'." Sam warned. "I know damn well it's something."

Dean seemed to contemplate simply ignoring his brother and heading up to the bar, or maybe going back into his shared motel room where Cas was probably already asleep.
For a moment, Sam wondered if he'd pushed too far. It was always a delicate thing with Dean. His brother was very emotionally stunted, forced to be that way to deal with his life after their mom died and their dad started a new career. He'd developed a way to go numb to his feelings, especially after Hell, but sometimes it took a lot to snap him out if that numbness. He could get angry easily, sure, that was a primary aspect of his personality, but he avoided being hurt like the plague. He'd taken enough blows in that department for a lifetime.
To Sam's total and complete shock, his brother neither stormed off, nor told him he was fine.

"Dad was trying to guilt me into saying yes to Michael. He said that if I'd done my job and killed you when he'd told me to, we wouldn't be in this apocalyptic mess."

Sam understood now why Dean had reacted the way he had. After their dad died and Dean had told him what John said about saving him or killing him, Sam had been nearly livid. Not only that his father had been ready to kill him, but that he'd tried to push that job onto Dean. The younger of the two brothers had known right from the start that Dean would never kill him, no matter what happened. He'd hated his dad for putting that on his big brother. Dean had raised him, taught him how to read, helped him with his homework when he could, stole for him, lied for him, protected him. Dean had given everything for him, including his life, there was no way he would ever have killed his brother.
And now that John was back, he was still the same controlling, overbearing, single minded bastard he'd been before. Only this time, it wasn't going to work out the way it always had. This time, Dean wasn't going to quietly take orders and blindly follow their dad, and Sam was above fighting over the little things. He no longer felt like he needed to prove himself and rebel against their father. Another thought occurred to Sam, and he felt his little nagging worry worsen.

"But he doesn't know about...?" Sam gestured awkwardly to Dean and the door. Does he know about you and Cas? Does he know you're bi? Does he know Cas isn't the first guy you've gone out with?

Dean shook his head.

"No."

Sam sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It wasn't like he didn't understand Dean's reluctance to tell their dad about Cas, but still, they couldn't keep this up forever. Eventually John would find out.

"Dean, you're his son, he'd get over it and come around eventually. Why don't you just tell him?"

There it was. Dean tensed, his jaw clenched and his fists curled reflexively. There was a flash of panic in his eyes, before it was replaced with a careful neutral expression.

"For the same reason I never told him I'm bi. 'Cause he'd flip his shit."

John's homophobia hadn't been lost on Sam growing up. The channel abruptly changed when the pride parade was on, being ushered across the street after his dad spotted two men kissing ahead of them, words like 'faggot' and 'queer' had been normal to hear growing up. Sam had never understood why his dad was so disgusted by it. As a little kid, the younger Winchester had never seen anything wrong with it. No one ever sat him down and said it wasn't normal, or that he should look down on men who loved other men, so he never did. He'd just accepted it. It had taken his years at Stanford to learn that there were more sexualities than just straight or gay.
When one of his friends told him they were demi-sexual, Sam hadn't had a clue what that meant, and after some research, he'd been surprised to learn that there were dozens of differed sexual orientations and terms. Some overlapped, some were very similar, but most were fairly clear, and he'd found one website that gave great definitions and examples for each. So, after hours of reading up on proper term and definitions, Sam had simply accepted them, and started identifying himself as an ally. He'd vehemently defended his friend when she was mocked, and had supported her and the others on campus who didn't identify as straight and cis-gendered. He was a big guy who had proven he knew how to fight, his support wasn't taken lightly.
So when Dean had reluctantly come out as bi, Sam had actually known what he meant, and hadn't cared. He'd told Dean as much and said that no matter what happened or who had a problem with it, Sam would always be on his brother's side. That didn't seem to matter as much right now as it did then.

"Sam, do you remember when you were about eight, we were staying in a motel in Tulsa while dad was on a hunt? He'd only been gone about three days before he'd come back angry and told us we were leaving?"

Sam thought back, but he could only remember John angrily storming into the motel room, packing their things and telling them to get in the car. He didn't remember getting an explanation, or even asking for one. He'd been pretty young and very tired at the time, he hadn't really cared why they were leaving again so soon. Dean continued before Sam could answer.

"I asked him about it later, after we were a couple towns over in a new motel and you were asleep. I was twelve, and I had helped him research the hunt, so I knew there had been a pattern to the disappearances of teenage boys."

Sam didn't like where this was going. His stomach flipped and he nearly winced, but caught himself before he could.

"I asked why he abandoned the hunt, and he told me that he'd found out all the victims were gay boys who'd come out in the few days before they were killed."

Sam sensed there was more to this story, and he definitely did not like where this was going.

"I didn't understand why that was a big deal, so I asked him again why he didn't kill the monster what was hurting people, and you know what he said? 'Let the fuckin' fags disappear.'"

Sam stood in shock for a few seconds, trying to take in this new information. John, his father had- had left a hunt unfinished because-

Sam was livid now, his blood boiling in a blind rage he so rarely let take over. He turned on his heel and was only a few steps from flinging open his motel door and pummelling his dad senseless, before he felt a strong hand on his arm. He shook it off, and it was replaced by two hands gripping the back of his jacket and yanking him back. He tried to struggle but was spun around and pinned against the wall. Just because his brother was shorter than him, didn't mean he wasn't a fair match. Dean pushed his forearm against his brother's chest, his free hand busy holding his little brother's arm against the wall. Sam tried to push off the wall, and was effectively slammed back against it.

"Dean, let me go." His voice was dripping with rage and intent.

"Sam-" Dean warned.

"No! He let those kids die! Just because-"

"I know." Dean's voice was angry too, but more patronizing, like he was holding in his own fury in favour of calming his brother down. "I know. Okay? Look, I called Bobby that night after dad was asleep, I told him what happened, he went and took care of it. Alright? No one else got hurt."

Sam was still pissed, and Dean knew if he let him go, he would still go into that room and drag their dad out of bed, screaming and hitting. But he couldn't let that happen.

"Look, man, I never forgave him for that, and I never will. It was wrong, and some days I hate him for it, but right now it's end times. The friggin' devil is loose, and it's all hands on deck here. We need dad for this. You think he's gonna stick around if you go in there and beat the shit out of him?"

Sam broke eye contact with his brother, looking down the street then at the ground.

"And what are you gonna tell him when he asks how you found out, huh? If you say I told you, don't you think he's gonna wonder how we got to talking about that?"

Sam couldn't meet Dean's gaze. As much as he wanted to go in there and beat his dad, he refused to out his brother like that. It wouldn't be fair to Dean. Sam sighed explosively and relaxed. He didn't move when Dean slowly released his hold and backed away a few steps.

"Me and Cas are gonna tell him soon, okay?"

Sam nodded. He was a little ashamed of how he'd reacted. Not that his dad didn't deserve it, but he'd reacted without thinking of the consequences. Had Dean not stopped him, things could have gotten bad.

"You wanna come with for a drink?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded.

The bar closed an hour or so after they'd shown up. They had been the only people in there, other than one waiter and the bartender, and the waiter had left twenty minutes after they sat down. Both brothers had downed two double whiskeys, and a shot of brandy each. By last call, they both were a bit more relaxed had a pleasant buzz, Sam more so than Dean, who had the tolerance of an alcoholic in rehab. They tipped big, and thanked the bartender for letting them stay a while.

"No problem guys. Have a good night." he called as they headed for the door.

"Yeah, you too." they called back. It was halfhearted and only done out of politeness. They were more relaxed, but neither was in any mood to have a good night.

As they walk back to the motel, neither said a word. Much like at the bar, their company was enough, and they didn't feel the need to fill the silence with words.
Dean fished his room key out of his pocket, and quietly unlocked the door. He turned to Sam, and watched his brother's face harden as he hesitated to enter his own room.

"You wanna crash with me and Cas tonight? The room has two beds."

Sam looked like he was about to decline and say it was fine, so Dean reacted quickly.

"I promise we won't have loud, athletic sex while you are in the room." he half joked.

Sam cracked a smile and huffed.

"I'll hold you to that." he said, walking back to Dean's room and following his brother inside.

Sam watched with a sappy smile as his brother climbed into bed with Cas, the angel instantly moving to him in his sleep. Cas curled into Dean, his face tucked up under the Winchester's chin in what Sam was sure was a familiar position. To comfortably lay like that, they needed to overlap their legs, and in the barely there light, Sam could just make out the shape of his brother's leg under the covers, worming it's way between the angel's. Dean carefully moved his arm under Castiel's neck and head, creating a sort of pillow that would ensure the hunter's arm didn't go numb. Finally, he wrapped his other arm around Cas, holding his angel against him.

Sam couldn't help but smile at them. He so rarely saw his brother act sweet and loving like this, voluntarily cuddling and so obviously happy to do it.
Sam knew that for all Dean acted like a macho, man's man who slept his way across the country and never looked back, he was a huge sucker for stuff like this.

"You just gonna stand there fangirling, or are you gonna lay the fuck down and sleep?" Dean mumbled sleepily, not even bothering to open his eyes.

Sam didn't say a word, only smiling wider as he climbed into the free bed. He really was happy for Dean, and if his dad knew anything, he would be too.

Dean woke up the next morning in exactly the way he had come to love. Naturally, comfortably warm, not hung over, and still tangled up with Cas. His eyes fluttered open in the soft, morning light, slowly focusing on the empty bed across from his and Cas'. He didn't bother looking around for Sam, figuring his brother was in the bathroom or had left. Instead, he yawned and attempted to stretch without waking Cas. He managed to stretch his arms and one leg before the angel stirred, opening unfocused eyes and tilting his head to blink bleary eyes at the hunter.

"Hey." Dean said softly, his voice rough from the disuse of sleep.

"Hello." Cas said back, his gravely, deep voice amplified as well.

"Did I wake you up?"

Cas yawned and stretched his neck before settling back down.

"No."

"Liar." Dean said with a soft smile.

Cas smiled back, an occurrence that was slowly becoming less and less rare. Dean couldn't resist. He was comfy and warm and not hung over and in bed with Cas. He was happy. He leaned in, thankful Cas' remaining mojo kept him from getting morning breath, and pressed a chaste kiss to the angel's lips. Cas reciprocated without hesitation, and one kiss became a second, and a third. They were unhurried, unassuming, simply gentle and reassuring. After everything that had happened in the past few days, or months even, everything they were still up against, sometimes they needed easy, tender reminders that they were both still here. Still alive, still fighting, still together.

Dean thought he could continue like this for a while before his need to pee overwhelmed his desire to stay in bed. That is, he could have, had someone not loudly cleared their throat and interrupted them.
Dean sighed and rested his forehead against Cas', resisting the urge to kiss him again just to annoy his brother. He looked to the end of the bed, where Sam sat at the small table under the closed window. Now Dean saw that the closed curtains were the only thing making the lighting in the room soft. Sam was on his laptop, and didn't even bother looking up as he spoke.

"I'm still here and still holding you to your word."

Dean huffed, but pulled away from Cas. He slipped out from under the covers, mindful not to lift them too high and let a draft in. He pulled on some pants and his t-shirt from last night, hoping they didn't smell too bad. He would change after he showered anyway. Hopefully with Cas, if he played his cards right.

"How long you been up?" he asked his brother, already slowly heading for the bathroom.

"About an hour."

Dean grunted in acknowledgement, then headed to the bathroom to relieve his bladder.
He wandered back out a minute later, slowly starting to wake up more. Cas was still in bed, though he'd moved to were Dean had been, absorbing the residual body heat as he slowly tried to get his brain working. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed closest to his angel. He cupped the back of Cas' head, pulling him up for another lazy, happy kiss that left them both smiling. Sam said nothing this time, though he tried to hide his own smile by looking at the curtains.

"I think I found us a case in Illinois."

Dean looked up at that, his little moment broken.

"Dude, we're on a case. We need to be figuring out what brought dad back."

Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heals of his hands.

"I know. Look, I've been looking since he showed up. The only things that could have brought him back were one or two different gods, the fates, or angels."

Dean quickly racked his mind for any other monsters that might have the juice to do something like that, but he came up blank. No way any demon had that kind of power, unless a deal was made, and other than Dean or Sam, who would give that much to bring John back?

"Okay, and?"

"And... If I'd found something I would have told you. The gods' MOs don't match how he came back, the fates have the power to bring someone back, but they never have, it goes against everything they were created for."

Dean nodded. It made sense. Why would beings created to decide when and how people die suddenly bring one back? And if Sam said it wasn't a god, Dean believed him.

"What about angels then?"

Sam nodded, glancing at his laptop.

"Still checking into that. Cas? Do you think it was the god squad?"

Castiel seemed to consider that. He squinted in thought, something Dean would never admit to finding cute.

"It's certainly possible." he finally said. "Though I don't see why they would bring your father back, if it was them."

"Is there any way to check if it was an angel?" Dean asked. "Like a mark on his soul or something?"

Castiel shook his head.

"If he was brought back from heaven, which I assume he was, there would be nothing."

Dean sighed. So they had two dead ends, and a possible but apparently not probable, impossible to verify lead.

"Alright, what's the hunt in Illinois?"

The shifter had been tough to take down. Even with three hunter and an angel on the case, and everyone having the courtesy to act professional, the bastard had still been incredibly elusive. In the end, the thing had taken over a week to track down. Eventually, they'd found it's hold up, and just had to wait for it to come back.
Despite working well together, unless they were talking about the hunt John had practically been ostracized by the other three. Dean was still pissed, Cas was taking his side, and now that Sam knew about Tulsa, he'd hardly said a word to his father. When they did have to talk, it was always curt and to the point. John didn't know what Sam's sudden problem with him was, unless Dean had told him about their fight. Either way, everyone was doing their best to ignore him while they piled wood and poured gas onto the shifter's body.

Just as they were finishing up, everyone was surprised by the sudden heavy flap of multiple wings. Sam and Dean immediately tensed. John watched as each pulled a strange blade from their jackets, and the angel let one slip from his sleeve into his hand. Zachariah stood patiently, three other angels behind him, all in uniform black suits, darker than Zachariah's grey one. They stood silently, waiting for orders like attack dogs.

"Hello, boys! Having fun dodging your responsibilities? You are aware that one of you needs to say yes to a certain archangel before the planet burns, right?"

"Screw you, Zach." Dean spit, consciously moving slightly in front of Cas. He knew rebel angels were either killed or imprisoned. He couldn't stand to seen either happen to Castiel. "I already told, you I ain't saying yes if Michael's gonna roast half the planet."

Zachariah smirked. Whether it was a cocky certainly that Dean would change his mind, or covering the fact that he didn't know what to do next, neither of the brothers were sure.

"We could always make you say yes."

Dean smirked, cocky and pushing his luck.

"You haven't yet."

Anger flashed over Zachariah's face, and in the next second Dean doubled over in pain, coughing up blood.

"Dean!" Sam and John both shouted, rushing to the Winchester's side. Castiel, on the other hand, didn't hesitate to attack. He disappeared and reappeared behind the guard responsible, shoving his blade through the angel's back, rage in his eyes. A blinding light shone before the lifeless body hit the ground. Dean immediately stopped coughing blood, and began panting for air.
A second guard made a move on Castiel, but though he'd been well trained, he lacked the experience Cas had of fighting in a life and death situating. Castiel had been lead into many battles, once he'd been a proud seraph, one of the best in the garrison. Close to fighting as well as Anneal. The guard never stood a chance. Two well placed blows and an easy block later, and Cas shoved his angel blade into the second guard's throat, shoving him to the ground before he was dead. Zachariah held up his hand to stop his last guard from attacking.

"Michael will have a vessel, one way or another." Zachariah said, before him and the other angel vanished.

No one moved for a few seconds. Cas broke the tension by rushing to Dean.

"Dean? Are you alright?"

The obvious concern in the angel's voice probably went further than just friendship, but no one really noticed.

"Yeah," Dean panted out. "Yeah, I think so. Those bastards are getting more creative."

Everyone slowly relaxed. Despite the blood and sweat running down his Dean's face, Castiel had to keep himself from hugging the hunter to himself.

"Who the hell was that?" John asked.

"Zachariah." Sam said. "An angel. Pretty high in the pecking order."

"He is one of the angels in charge of the garrisons." Castiel supplied, still watching Dean to make sure he was okay. He only spared John a brief look, long enough to see the confusion on the older hunter's face.

"There are several garrisons, each has one angel in charge of it. Such as how Anneal was in charge of my garrison.” He added, more for Sam and Dean's benefit. “Zachariah is among the angels in charge of organizing all the garrisons so they don't conflict. In army terms, I suppose he would be similar to a colonel."

That seemed to clarify things some for John. He could guess why the other angel was here, judging by what had been said between him and Dean.
The Winchester in question pushed himself up off the ground and stowed his knife back in his jacket.

"We're gonna need more wood. Cas? Can you help me move these guys closer to him?" Dean said, nodding to the shifter.

Cas nodded, gripping the arm of one dead angel and beginning to dragging him with ease the twenty feet to the shifter. Sam asked John to help him get more wood and spread out what they had, and the two started moving some of the branches and small logs for the dead vessels.

As Dean passed by Cas on his way for the second body, he reached out and let his hand brush against the angel's. It was quick, and they had passed by close enough that with only the poor lighting from the Impala's headlights, it would have been impossible to see unless someone had been watching for it. Dean had known that Cas was still worried and hadn't calmed down, so the hunter afforded him the few small touches he could to reassure him he was okay. Cas' only reaction was a quick glance, before he continued moving the bodies.

After staying to make sure all three bodies were well and truly disposed of, the three hunters and one angel piled into the Impala. John didn't even bother questioning why Sam was riding in the back again, sitting behind his brother, while the angel took shotgun. It was clear to him now that they were sitting near Dean because they were on his side, and were ostracizing John.
No one said anything when Dean said they were only a few hours away from Bobby's, and asked Sam to call ahead and let him know they were coming. Once Sam hung up, the near unbearable tension was back. However, this time, Dean was exhausted and blasted the radio to keep himself alert. Unfortunately, that meant no one was going to be able to sleep on the drive.

They arrived at Bobby's around six in the morning. The sun was barely up, softly lighting the piles of cars and run down, boarded up house in an orange hue. It was misleading really, the early morning light made the place seem calm, almost peaceful, with the beauty old, abandoned things have. Bobby's place was anything but. The house was always busy.
Phones rang all day, interrupted only by urgent emails and texts asking the older hunter for advice or back up. When he wasn't posing as Animal Control or the FBI or the Homeland Security, Bobby was reading up on all kinds of monsters and ways to slow them down or kill them.
Usually he only let the brothers and Cas sleep at his place, since they were often on the bad side of most other hunters, but he sometime let friends he trusted spend the night or stop by to rest. Garth and Rufus were two of his few exceptions. He never turned the clingy little dude or the rough, co-alcoholic away.
On top of all that, Bobby was one of the best field medics the hunting community had. He was skilled at patching up wounds that couldn't be explained to doctors, so it wasn't really rare if a hunter in the area needed help they arrived at Bobby's, sleeping in the panic room or on the couch until they could take care of themselves.
But today, there were no strange vehicles parked outside the older hunter's place. It really was fairly quiet.

Bobby answered the door, looking just as bleary eyed and ready to pass out as the others. He barely acknowledged them with a 'hey' as he let them in. They all dragged their feet as they moved further from the door, shoulders hunched, eyes droopy.
Dean said a gruff "talk to ya later" to Bobby as he tiredly plodded up the stairs to the spare room, and the blissfully comfortable queen sized mattress, Cas in tow behind him.

"I call the couch." Sam said, heading into the living room and collapsing face first onto the lumpy, somewhat smelly thing, groaning as he stayed awake long enough to roll onto his side so he could breathe while he slept. He was out like a light almost instantly, having been the last asleep the previous night, and the first up this morning. Bobby grunted in mild amusement at the boys' exhaustion, knowing full well he'd probably be in worse shape had he had a similar day.

"There's another couch upstairs in the back room, or you can take the cot downstairs."

John tiredly rubbed his eyes, barely able to function at this point. He knew he should have the most energy out of all of them, he'd done nothing but sleep since he'd gotten back, but he was still exhausted.

"The angel went upstairs with Dean, so I'm guessing he took the couch up there. I'll take the cot."

Bobby seemed to wake up a little at that, frowning at John.

"Those two idjits have a fight?"

Now it was John's turn to be confused. Why would Bobby think that? Was it a regular thing and he was just asking in general? Or had John said something that made the older hunter think something had happened between Dean and the angel?

"What?"

"Well, I just figured if they aren't even sharing a bed, something had to have..." Bobby trailed off, his sleep addled brain slowly catching up with his mouth when he saw the slight confusion on John's face bloom into full blown morbid curiosity.

"Balls!" Bobby muttered to himself. Fucking hell! John didn't know, Dean hadn't said a damn thing to his dad about Cas and him yet. Shit!

"Bobby..." John asked slowly, as if deciding on exactly what to say. "Why is my son sharing a bed with an angel? A guy angel?"

Bobby groaned and rubbed his face before opening the front door.

"Let's talk outside."

John followed him out, watching him the whole time, waiting for an answer. Once they were on the porch, Bobby kept walking, only looking behind him once to let John know he expected to be followed. The Winchester sped up his pace until he was shoulder to shoulder with his old hunting buddy. He waited until they were about fifty yards away from the house before he planted his feet.

"What the hell is going on, Bob?"

Bobby wasn't enough of a jackass that he'd spill everything about Dean and Cas, but he also didn't want John in his house when he figured it out. He would be lucky if the yelling wasn't heard from here.

"It ain't up to me to tell ya."

"The hell it isn't! I'm brought back from god knows where four years later, my boys have both grown up, they tell me things I never believed in are real, then fucking shun me for days! Now you tell me if my boy is fucking an angel in a guy's meatsuit!"

Bobby stood silently, arms crossed, unimpressed by John's little rant. If Dean and Sam were ignoring their daddy, they had a good reason. They'd put up with shit that would've had most people plotting patricide, so John must have royally fucked up for them to shut him out like that.
John was slowly turning every colour of red there was as he connected the dots. The shared motel rooms, the fucking single bed, the nervous glances whenever he'd asked about it.

"Fuck! I didn't raise my boy to be some fudge packin' faggot!"

Bobby winced. He desperately wished he could take back what he'd said. He hadn't been thrilled to hear John was back, but he'd decided he could be civil if John could. Now, here he was at god knows what hour in the morning, listen to a man on the verge of disowning his own son for being in a committed, exclusive relationship.

"When the fuck did this happen!? I know my boy! He ain't some pansy-ass, shit shover! He's a ladies man!"

Despite John's white hot, misplaced anger, Bobby actually snorted. He didn't know why, a few seconds ago he'd been working up to take a swing at the oldest Winchester, but hearing John say he knew his kids, then saying Dean was completely straight was just funny to him for some reason. John, for his part, ignored him, too busy throwing his hands up in the air and screaming out curses at the top of his lungs. Something Bobby now realized, Dean would be able to hear if he woke up.

"John!"

John paused halfway through trying to reason that this was just a faze, which Bobby knew was absolutely ridiculous, and turned to face the older hunter.

"What? Now you've got something to say?" John snapped.

"Would you shut the hell up for a second?" It wasn't really a question. "This is Dean, alright? This is your boy, your flesh and blood. He's family. What difference does this make?"

John sputtered, looking torn between shock and anger.

"It makes a huge difference! He's a goddamn dandy boy now!"

Bobby ground his teeth and curled his fists. Dean might not be his son, but he was as close to it as anyone could get. Bobby loved that little shit, no matter what, and he wasn't gonna let John hurt him for this.

"John Winchester, you're gonna shut up, and you're gonna stay shut up when we go inside." Bobby growled, dangerously low. "And then you're gonna go into the panic room and cool off while the boys sleep."

John looked like he was ready to angrily protest, but Bobby silenced him with a glare and slightly raised fist.

"Then, you aren't gonna say jack shit to Dean about this until he brings it up first. And-" he warned, cutting off John's beginning protests. "If I hear you breathe one word to him like what you said out here, I'm gonna beat your ass with a tire iron 'till your mouth won't hold soup."

John fumed, but knew better than to say anything more. Bobby was a lot of things, but a liar he was not. If he said he was gonna kill you, he would. If he said to never step foot in his house again, and to lose his number, you did just that. And if he told you he would beat your ass unless you were civil, you could bet your ass he was prepared to follow through.

John stomped off to the house, Bobby following behind to make sure John didn't go up to Dean and Cas' room. The Winchester slammed the doors as he made his way through the house and into the basement. Bobby sighed and tiredly rubbed his eyes.
He knew he had to warn Dean, 'cause he had really fucked up on this one, and he wasn't gonna let that boy find out from John that someone had spilled the beans on him and Cas.

Hesitantly, the older hunter plodded up the stairs, wincing at each squeak of the old house. When he reached the door to the room Dean and Cas shared when they spent the night here, he listened carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was walk in on any extra curricular activities. He'd only done it once since the two idiots had finally gotten together, and that had been because Dean was an inconsiderate little shit who never thought to lock the door or put a sock or something on the knob. Of course, now everybody knew that odds where if they were left alone long enough you needed to be cautious interrupting them.
This time, however, Bobby couldn't here any telltale signs that he needed to book it back downstairs and pretend he'd heard nothing. Quietly at first, then with more severity, he knocked.

"Dean? Cas? You boys awake?"

There was a muffled groaning and the sound of sheets rustling, followed by Dean cursing and the low murmur of Cas' voice saying something Bobby couldn't understand. He was at least relieved that it was obvious the groaning and swearing were only protests to him waking them up after less than half an hour of sleep.

"You boys have ten seconds to cover whatever needs to be covered, then I'm coming in."

There was more rustling, another groan, then silence.

"Come in, Bobby." came Dean's gruff reply.

The older hunter opened the door and walked in. The early morning sun that shone through the window was more than enough to light up the room, throwing beams of orange light onto the floor and bed in the middle of the room. In it, a very tired, obviously annoyed hunter and an equally tired, less annoyed angel glared at him. They had the white comforter pulled up to their waists, and where both sitting up, though very slouched. Dean had pillow marks on his face from the wrinkles in the case, while Cas just had a red spot on his forehead from it being pressed against something. Both had messy hair and bloodshot eyes from being woken suddenly.
Bobby entered further and gently shut the door. He looked around anxiously, not sure where to put himself. He settled for awkwardly standing against the door jam, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"I... I owe you boys, especially you, Dean...a huge apology."

Both looked confused, being not fully awake wasn't helping them either.

"At six in the morning?" Dean asked, still squinting his tired eyes in the faint light.

"I was talking to John, after you two and Sam went to bed, and... Dean, I really didn't mean to, but..."

"What?" Dean asked, really wanting Bobby to just get to the point so he could go back to sleep.

"I let something about you and Cas slip."

And just like that, Dean was wide awake. He sat up ramrod straight in bed, tense and shaking, any fatigue in him gone.

"You did what?"

Dean hated the way his voice shook and came out weak. Beside him, Cas was switching between watching him and watching Bobby.

"I'm so sorry, Dean. He'd been with you guys for two weeks, I just assumed."

Dean's breathing was speeding up, he couldn't stay sitting in bed anymore. He got up, flinging the blankets back as he did. Bobby spared a quick thank you that the boys never slept completely in the buff, so a pair of black boxers helped ensure he wouldn't need brain bleach later.
Dean paced back and forth, anxiously clenching and unclenching his fist as he did so. Cas and Bobby felt helpless to do anything to calm him down. Bobby had seen first hand just how accepting John would be of Dean, and Cas knew enough from what Dean had told him to guess at the reception their relationship would get.

"Well, how much does he know?"

"Look, after my slip up, I clamped up like duck in a power dive. All he really knows for sure is that you two usually share a bed, but I'm sure he's already made tons of assumtions."

That didn't reassure Dean at all. Sharing a bed with another dude was more than incriminating enough for John to make the next logical step. But at least it did let him know he had some control over to situation. His dad didn't know about his previous boyfriends, or that he'd known he was bi since he was fifteen, so that left a few things he could chose to tell him or not.

"Dean, I told him to go cool off until morning. You still got some time to figure this all out, okay?"

Bobby's voice was soft and concerned. He couldn't remember seeing Dean in a panic like this before. The boy was this side of a panic attack. Thankfully, Cas could see that too, and reacted quickly. The angel got out of bed, also clad in nothing but his grey boxers. He stood in front of Dean and braced his hands on the hunter's shoulders, effectively stopping him.

"Dean-"

"Cas, he-he knows! He knows! And now-"

"Dean, look at me." Cas continued quietly.

Dean was looking around the room as if he hadn't heard Cas, eyes wide with panic.

"Look at me." Cas said again, more firmly this time.

Bobby watched the angel move his hand so it rested over the fading burn he left when he'd pulled Dean from Hell. Whatever he did seemed to get Dean's attention, and soon the hunter focused his gaze on the angel, the panic induced confusion fading somewhat.

"Dean, I want you to match your breathing to mine."

"Cas, I- I can't-"

"Yes, you can."

Bobby had never seen this side of either of them before. Cas being thoughtful and caring and actually knowing what to do, while Dean was panicking and unable to focus. It was strange.
He watched as Cas deliberately breathed deeply and slowly, patiently waiting for Dean to follow suit. A minute or so and Dean had at least regulated his breathing enough to begin to calm down.
Castiel moved the hand not currently on the hand print to behind Dean's neck, squeezing gently, silently asking the hunter to lower it. Dean complied, moving his head low enough so that he could rest his forehead against the angel's.
By now Bobby could sense this was moving into something private, and that he should take his leave, but this was his fault, he needed to stay until he could be sure Dean was okay. Plus, he was strangely fascinated with seeing two people he'd know for years show a side of themselves he hadn't known existed.

"Dean, no matter what happens, no matter what he says, just remember you still have me and Sam and Bobby." Cas' lowed voice was surprisingly soothing. "I promise, I will be there with you the whole time."

Dean nodded, letting out a shaky sigh. Bobby felt the need to say something, to try and help clean up the mess he'd made.

"Dean... Me an' Sam know what Cas means to ya. We're gonna be behind you a hundred percent through this, your daddy be damned. If he can't see how happy you are and be glad for ya, his opinion ain't worth shit."

Dean smiled weakly.

"Thanks, Bobby."

Bobby ducked his head.

"Anytime." He said, dropping his gruff demeanour for just a second and letting a softness into his face.

"Now," And the moment was gone. "You two look like shit warmed over. You both need some sleep."

Dean nodded, and let Cas lead him back to the bed. Bobby took that as his queue to leave, and opened the door while he heard the hunter and the angel settle into the bed. He turned as he closed the door, just enough to glance Dean with Cas wrapped up in his arms like a big teddy bear.

Dean tensed up the second he heard someone walk into the kitchen behind him. Guys in the military would kill be be able to stand up that straight. The hunter could hear his heart beating out a panicked rhythm against his ribs, and his breath catch in his chest as his hands froze, hovering near his Irish coffee. Quickly, he spun around to see who it was. Relief flooded through him, making his knees weak when he was only greeted by his brother.
Dean had been walking on egg shells all morning, knowing that any second John might come up those stairs. Despite being warm and in a comfortable bed for the first time in weeks, he'd barely slept after Bobby had informed him of his slip up, half expecting his dad to come barging into his and Cas' room, screaming and throwing a fit. He hadn't, but that was almost worse. It meant he was just sitting down there, stewing in his own thoughts and anger, slowly getting ready to explode.
It didn't help that Bobby had to make a run into town, and left half an hour earlier, promising to be as quick as he could. Or that after that, Dean had been trying to distract himself on his laptop, found possible demon omens two towns over, and asked Cas if he could zap over and check it out. The angel had, of course, tried to refuse at first, reluctant to leave Dean without Bobby here. Dean hadn't wanted him to leave either, but he refused to be selfish just because he was being a wuss about what his dad might do. He'd insisted, saying it wouldn't take Castiel more than twenty minutes max to check the whole town. And that he would pray to him the second his dad was up, so he could come right back if need be. Cas had reluctantly accepted, saying he would be back in twenty minutes at the most.
So that just left the three Winchester boys in Bobby's house, and Dean slowly working up to a full blown panic attack.

"You okay?" Sam asked, quickly picking up on his brother's off expression. Dean breathed out shakily, but it did nothing to sooth him.

"Dad knows." He said, his heart speeding up again at the thought. Sam didn't say anything at first, though he was clearly surprised.

"You guys told him? How did it go? What did he say?"

Dean shrugged.

"Probably nothing good." He huffed, a nervous laugh punched out of his body. He kept going when he saw Sam's confusion. "Me and Cas didn't tell him. Bobby let something slip."

Sam gaped before finding his voice.

"Do you know what happened?"

Dean had a pretty damn good idea what happened. If Bobby had woken him and Cas up to warn them about this, he highly doubted his dad had simply said "good for him." and left it at that. Bobby even said he told John to go cool off, that meant his dad had flip his shit.

"Not really. But I doubt I'm gonna get a big 'congrats' when he gets up."

Sam huffed, clearly annoyed as he turned and walked into the living room. Which pissed Dean off enough to make him follow his brother.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is this hard for you? Did this keep you up last night? Are you about to be disowned by dad?"

"Screw dad!" Sam exploded. "Just- just fuck him. He- he fucking kept us in the dark our entire lives and dragged us into hunting for his own stupid obsession!" Sam's shoulders dropped their tension, and his near permanent frown momentarily eased. "Dean, I've never seen you as happy as you are with Cas, that should be all that matters. Dad's approval shouldn't mean jack shit to you!"

A creaking in the doorway drew their attention to Bobby. The older hunter stood there, his arms loaded with bags and books, clearly just getting back from town.

"He's right, Dean. If you're happy, your daddy should be happy for you. If he ain't, that's his own problem."

Without waiting for a response, he continued into the kitchen to unload everything.

Moments later, they heard the creaking of the basement stairs, signalling John was up and making his way upstairs. Dean briefly wondered if his dad had heard the yelling earlier, but he didn't think Sam had been loud enough. The walls of the panic room and basement were pretty thick, you pretty much had to scream at the top of your lungs to be heard upstairs. At most, his dad might have heard Sam's voice, but not what was said.
The door opened, and an exhausted looking John came out. Clearly he hadn't slept much either. Dean didn't know if that was good or not today.
As was the new usual, neither of the brothers said anything to their father as he came into the living room. Dean remembered telling Cas he would call when his dad got up, and shot a quick mental "He's awake." to the angel.
Within seconds, the heavy flap of wings sounded, and Castiel appeared in the room behind John. The older hunter jumped and spun around, pulling his .45 and aiming.

"Dad, come on. It's just Cas. Relax a little." Dean said wearily, his slowly fading nervousness transforming into annoyance.

He was tired of John pulling a gun every time the angel showed up. Sure, sometimes he or Sam jumped at Castiel's arrival, but only if he landed near them with no warning. Their dad spinning around while reaching for the gun in the back of his jeans was irritating and pointless.

John lowered his gun slowly. From what Sam had told him about angels, a bullet wouldn't do much anyway. Clicking the safety back on, the oldest Winchester slowly returned the gun to the back of his jeans. He wondered if he could get to one of those blades he'd seen the boys take out when those four angels had shown up. He was sure one of those could kill an angel. Then he would have some sort of weapon if this one turned.

"Well, I still don't trust him. You two shouldn't either."

At John's words it was like someone flipped a switch in Cas. His face darkened in anger and he marched over to the boys' father. He was too quick and too strong for John to push off, and within seconds Castiel slammed John into the wall and pinned him, the angel's arm pressed against the hunter's throat to hold him still.

"I killed two angels this week. Those are my brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled, and I did it, all of it for him." Castiel growled out. John knew he meant Dean. The trench-coated angel wasn't done. "And he failed. And I lost everything. And still, I stayed." Castiel stared John down, slowly leaning in closer. He didn't raise his voice, but it held a low, dangerous tone to it that made the oldest Winchester wary. "So keep. Your opinions. To yourself." The angel put emphasis on each word, making himself crystal clear.

John may have been one incredibly stubborn man, but he wasn't an idiot. He knew when to back down. He looked away first, glancing at his sons, who seemed mildly concerned, but offered no help, Dean least of all. He glared back at his dad nearly as strongly as Cas did.
The angel finally let his stare fall away and he backed off, releasing his hold on John. The tension didn't leave the room. Dean piped up, clearly pissed and getting defensive about Cas. His dad insinuating anything about Cas not being the honest, upfront guy he was now was the straw that broke the camel's back, and everything Dean had wanted to say to his dad just spilled out.

"Dad, I'm only gonna say this once. You are not in charge anymore. This is not a dictatorship, it's a partnership, and you don't get any say in it. You don't know everything, you have no idea what we went through after you died. Once, when we were young and inexperienced and needed directions we took them from you, but things have changed. Me and Sam have seen things and learnt things that you've never dreamt about. We're more experienced and know more than most hunters ever will. We grew up, and we changed."

John huffed at that last bit.

"Oh, you changed alright."

Dean stiffened at that, his mouth drawing into a tight, thin line.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" He ground out.

He didn't know why he suddenly wasn't petrified of this moment anymore. Why he didn't want to cower and change the subject or deny everything. Maybe it was knowing Bobby and Sam and Cas were behind him on this. Maybe it was knowing he was in the right, and that John needed to get that. Maybe it was finally saying that he was his own person, and believing it this time. John huffed again.

"I'm not stupid, Dean." he sounded beyond irritated. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?" he asked, pointedly looking at the angel, then back to his son.

Sam saw Dean's jaw clench tightly and his fists curl, his gaze becoming a hard glare. This was it, everything was about to go to Hell in a hand-basket. The younger Winchester was worried fists would fly if John said the wrong thing.
Castiel could see that Dean was shaking, whether it was from rage or fear at what his dad might say next, the angel couldn't tell. He was expecting Dean to yell, or storm out of the room, or, even though it would hurt them both, deny everything. He was not ready for the hunter to move to his side and gently take his hand, staring down his father defiantly, as if daring him to say something. Cas squeezed his hand in support, and as a thank you.
John stood stock still, his mouth opening and closing dumbly, trying to say something. His eyes locked on to where his son's hand clasped the angel's.

"I didn't raise you like this." He finally said, somewhat shocked. Even though Bobby had pretty much told him this last night, it was nothing compared to actually seeing it.

"Like what?" Dean countered sharply, his tone demanding and daring.

He wasn't backing down now. He'd spent years hiding who he was from his dad, only ever hitting on women when they were together, never letting on that he'd had boyfriends too, and he was sick of it. He'd done it all through high school, on every hunt with his dad, and for years after his father had died. Firmly denying any interest in men, John's homophobic comments too deeply ingrained in his mind. It had taken him a long time to come to terms with how he felt about Cas, even longer to actually tell Cas and make a move, and he was not gonna go back to his inverted, scared teenage self. Damn it, he was a grown man, John had no say in his life.
Of course, John didn't see it that way, and Dean's new tone didn't sit well with him, it only angered him.

"Like some cock-sucking faggot!"

Sam nearly intervened, his own face tight with rage, but when he took a step towards John, ready to chew him out and defend his brother, Dean shot him a quick look and subtle shake of his head. He had to do this himself. Later, when the doubt and the over-thinking arose, then he would let Cas and Sam help.

"I didn't think you were this stupid! That you would sink this low. It's disgusting enough that he's a man, but-"

Dean stood stock still, head raised high, still holding Cas' hand. Anger clouded his face, and everybody could see the tension in his shoulders.

"He's an angel, Dean! You can't trust him. He's probably just toying with you. As soon as he doesn't need you, he'll be gone!"

Dean wasn't sticking around for any more of this. His dad could say whatever the fuck he wanted about him, but he would not stand here and let John tell him Cas was a traitor.
Without letting go of Cas' hand, head still held high, Dean lead Castiel out of the living room.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" John demanded.

Dean ignored him, not stopping or hesitating as he lead Cas right out the door, slamming it behind them. John huffed, turning to pace the living room. Sam was still standing in the doorway, looking torn between going out after Dean and Cas, or staying to yell at his dad.

"Any other ways he's gotten worse since he started fucking men?"

Sam seriously had to use all his will power not to start swinging. Not because his dad didn't deserve it, but because Sam knew it wouldn't end after one punch, and years of piled on frustration and hatred, plus the last few weeks would come out, and Sam wouldn't be able to stop himself from beating his father unconscious, or worse.

"Dad, shut the fuck up."

Had he been calmer, Sam probably would have taken great pride in the shock on his father's face, and possibly been a little leery of the anger that followed.

"Don't speak to me like that, Sam." his dad growled. Sam was still on the verge of snapping, and John was really pushing it. He glared at his father.

"I'll speak to you," his voice was dangerously low, intimidating, especially coupled with the way the huge hunter stalked towards his father. John didn't even notice he was backing up until he hit the wall again. Sam was now inches from his face, eyes blazing, fists clenched and shaking. "however you deserve to be spoken to."

Sam had never really been little. Ever since he was born, he'd always been big for his age. Taller than all the kids in his class in every school he attended, the same height as his brother by the time he was fifteen, it was just a normal thing for him. But now, with his youngest son pissed off and defensive, towering over him like this, John really saw him as the terrifying hunter he was. And for the first time, his son actually scared him a little.

John's body was still in pretty good shape, he'd found out on the last hunt, and he still knew how to fight like before, but Sam had almost every advantage on him. His was younger, bigger, in better shape, and he'd been sparring since he was nine. He was a challenge for the best street fighters, certainly more than capable of taking his old man. The only thing stopping him from throwing the first punch was knowing that it would only make everything worse for his family.

Sam only crowded his dad long enough to make him uneasy, then turned on his heel and stormed outside after his brother, slamming the door as well on his way.
John would later deny that he sighed in relief after Sam left, or that said sigh reminded him he'd been holding his breath since Sam backed him against the wall. He had never been intimidated by either of his sons, even before when Sam had been younger, and they had been at each others' throats everyday, he'd never felt threatened by his youngest, only disrespected. His son had been young and cocky and just wanted to have his way, and argued. But now, now Sam had a confidence about him, a maturity brought by years of fighting and frustration and loss. He didn't need to yell to prove himself, cold, factual anger was more than enough.

John pushed off the wall and started walking to the kitchen. He needed a drink after all that.
Bobby was in the kitchen when John walked in. He was seated at his table, a half full glass and a nearly full bottle of whiskey his only company. John didn't bother asking if he could join him, just grabbing his own glass and the bottle off the table, ignoring the glare he got. He drank the first couple fingers of whiskey immediately, wincing at the burn but swallowing anyway. After pouring himself another, he handed back the bottle.

"Guess you heard all that, huh?"

Bobby was still glaring. John couldn't help but notice the tire iron in the tool box on the counter, the older hunter's earlier threats still clear in his mind.

"Yeah, I did. John," John was sure he wouldn't enjoy what came next. "You are one stupid, narrow-minded son of a bitch."

"Now, hang on-" John began to defend himself, but Bobby was having none of it.

"No, you just shut up and listen!"

John's mouth snapped shut. Frankly, he was tired of being yelled at and chewed out today, but Bobby was the last person he was gonna try to change that with.

"Cas saved Dean's life, Sam's too, more than once. He's risking his ass twenty-four seven by helping us, but that ain't stopping him."

John said nothing, knowing Bobby wasn't done.

"He rebelled. You know what that means for an angel if they're caught? Torture or death. Or both. John, he's openly going against his family and everything he's believed in since he was created, and he stuck around after everything went to shit and we failed, so if your only problem with him and your boy being together is that they're both men, you are one dumb son of a bitch."

John didn't know what to say to that. He hadn't been fully aware of how much the angel had done for his boys. Sam had unintentionally left most of that out.

"And," Bobby warned. "If you don't hurry up and make things right with Dean, you're gonna lose him and Sam for good."

Bobby sat and watched, waiting for that to sink in. John, unfortunately, valued his sons' loyalty a little too much, especially Dean's. Disbelief clouded his face as he finished his drink.
Bobby just sat there, slightly stunned by John's blindness. Sure, he hadn't been around for a couple years, and he still remembered Dean as the obedient little soldier John had fashioned him into, but how could he possibly think Dean was still like that? Especially after he stood up to his dad like that and stormed out? Dean hadn't taken orders from someone for years, it shouldn't be too surprising that he wasn't going to fall back into that roll.

Bobby stubbornly remained sitting at the table, staring John down. No one was gonna make him storm out of his own kitchen. Whether John finally took the hint, or just decided to leave on his own, Bobby didn't know. What he did know, was that the narrow-minded, self-centered bastard was gone for the time being.
Bobby sighed heavily and topped off his drink. John had really fucked things up this time. Things were tense enough between him and his boys after the way they were raised, without adding new baggage. John had messed up bad with Sam when the kid left to go to school, and the youngest Winchester still wasn't over that. He'd practically been disowned, told never to come back. That ain't something a kid can just get over. And now, John had practically disowned Dean because he was with Cas. He would rather risk losing his family than try and see things their way and work it out. The man was ridiculous.

The day had started off a little cloudy and dreary. The weather channel on the radio was calling for rain all day, and now it was starting to look like it might happen. The wind had picked up a little, and heavy, low clouds rolled in from the west.
The worsening weather was lost on Dean as he meandered around the junk yard, his head hung low and his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his hoodie. After his defensive, defiant flare up, followed by storming out on his dad, Dean had only made it around the first pile of car, out of sight of the house, before his knees gave out and he slumped against an old Plymouth. Cas stood by him worriedly, gently rubbing his back as the hunter breathed in and out in shaky heaves.
Even now, after he'd calmed down, he still couldn't believe he'd actually done that. He'd actually stood up to his dad and told him about Cas. It was still a terrifying thought, especially because it was obvious he and John would need to talk about this more eventually.
Cas walked beside Dean quietly, not really know what to say. The angel felt guilty, knowing it was him John had a problem with. He felt bad for putting Dean in such a conflicting situation. In a way, Cas understood having to chose between family and love.

"I knew he would do this." Dean said after a few minutes. He didn't look up from the ground or stop walking, but Cas knew he wasn't talking to himself. The angel wondered what he should say. He didn't know the proper response in this situation.

"I am sorry, Dean." He finally said, his gravelly voice almost sorrowful.

"It's not your fault, Cas." Dean mumbled.

It wasn't hard to tell the hunter was thinking deeply on what had happened a few minutes ago, and what would happen now. He frowned a little at the ground, kicking a stray, empty beer bottle away, he watched it spin until it came to rest against the flat tire of some old beater.

"Perhaps not," the angel allowed. "But I do not like it when you are upset. Is there anything I can do?"

Dean was quiet for a while, but Cas waited.

"Don't worry about it, Cas. Dad's my problem."

Castiel stopped in his tracks. He grabbed Dean's arm and turned the hunter to look at him. For the first time since they'd left the house, Dean met Cas' eyes.

"It's not your problem, Dean, it's our problem. I told you, we are both in this together." the angel said with conviction.

Dean felt like telling Cas that dealing with his dad really was up to him. The angel and his father hadn't even had a full conversation yet, and John didn't even trust Cas, how could the angel convince John to like him? Besides, it was Dean he was angry at and disgusted with. Dean couldn't help but think, if John had learnt to trust and maybe even like Cas' before they told him, maybe things would have gone a little differently. It was unlikely, and didn't matter now any way.
But, Cas did have a point. If John was against both of them, it was their problem. They would deal with this together, like they always did. The hunter nodded.

"Okay. Thanks, Cas."

Dean offered a weak smile. He felt Cas' arms circle his waist, pulling him in closer. The hunter obliged him, his own hands coming up to rest on the angel's shoulders as he leaned in, his forehead resting against Cas'. Dean let his eyes fall shut, and for just a moment, he felt calm and happy, like he and Cas could take on anything, including his dad.

"Aw, you two are having a moment."

Dean jumped away from Cas at the sound of a new arrival. Trust Zachariah to ruin his day even more. Growling a little under his breath, Dean angrily turned on the new angel.
He was standing about thirty feet away, near a pile of scrap cars. His grey suit was clean and neat as always, that smug smile still firmly in place, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“Very touching.” the angel jabbed.

"The hell do you want, Zach?" Dean demanded, already moving into a protective mode, his hand reaching into his jacket for his angel blade.

"No need for that, Dean." Zachariah warned, even though Castiel had already taken out his own blade. He glared at Zachariah threateningly, the message clear. Hurt Dean, and I'll kill you.

"That's debatable." Dean threw back, tensing up more as Zachariah started to move closer.

"Are you enjoying having your dear old dad back, Dean? Things seemed a little tense between you two earlier."

Dean said nothing, his cold glare the only answer Zach was gonna get. The angel faked a concerned frown.

"Oh. Are things not going well? Does he know about your little angel boy toy here?"

Zach nodded in Castiel's direction. Dean visibly faltered, mentally cursing himself for it. Zachariah smiled, a small victory in trying to throw Dean off his game.

"Hmm, so he does. Not the most open minded person, is he? I'll bet he had some colourful things to call you."

"Why are you here, Zach?" Dean demanded. He was getting tired of the taunting. For a moment, it looked like Zachariah might keep trying to push Dean about his father, see if he could get a rise out of him, but in the end he didn't.

"You boys figure out who brought him back yet?" Zachariah asked, looking almost bored.

Dean, on the other hand, had calmed back down into his cocky, confident hunter masquerade.

"I figured it was the halos. You guys love sticking your noses in everything."

Zachariah smiled a little. It unnerved Dean and Cas, but both were masters at hiding it.

"Very good. Gold star for you." Zach teased. "Alright, question number two. Did you ever stop to wonder why?"

Dean said nothing.

"No? Why am I not surprised? You hairless apes are so rarely smart."

Dean ignored the jib, waiting for an explanation. Zachariah seemed all too happy to give him one.

"It's so unfortunate. We were watching you years before Castiel pulled you from Hell. You once took orders so well. You were an obedient soldier, rarely talking back to your father. It seems we should have brought him back sooner."

Dean frowned, still confused as to what Zach was getting at. The angel rolled his eyes.

"We still want you to say yes, Dean. But when you continued to refuse, we decided we needed to think of a different approach. And then you had to go and blow it by standing up to John the whole time he's been back."

Now Dean was sure he understood.

"So that was your big plan, huh? Bring my dad back to try to get me to say yes?"

Zachariah smirked.

"Not entirely."

Dean was getting really fed up with this cryptic shit the angels loved to pull. They could never just get to the point, could they? They had to tease and beat around the bush.

"Then what? A family get together?" Dean snarled.

Zachariah rolled his eyes again, disappointed with Dean's snark.

"Dean, you might be Michael's true vessel, but you are not his only vessel."

Zachariah watched Dean, he could see the exact moment everything became clear. The hunter's frown cleared and his face went slack, letting his mouth open slightly. The blood line. Anyone from their family could be an angel meatsuit. Including John.

"You brought him back as plan B if I keep telling you no."

It was a statement, not a question, more said to himself than anything. Zachariah smiled again, that condescending, arrogant, toothy grin.

"You might say no until the end of time, but John won't. He'll say yes in a heartbeat to save the planet. He's self sacrificing like that. It's one of the few useful traits you Winchesters have."

Dean refused to rise to Zachariah's taunting out of sheer stubbornness. He forced a cocky smirk, hoping Cas would just stay quiet and follow along like he had been. Dean scoffed at Zachariah, taking no small pleasure in the way the angel frowned at him.

"Wow, that's your plan? Man, you guys are more stupid than I gave you credit for. My dad's not gonna risk half the planet. And even if he would, why would he trust you enough to say yes to Michael?"

Zachariah said nothing, he settled for glaring at Dean instead, which brought on a genuine chuckle from the hunter.

"You guys are shit out of luck on this one." Dean said with a wide grin.

The angel in the grey suit was quiet for a moment, then a slow, obviously forced and fake smile spread across his lips.

"We have ways of getting what we want."

Dean wasn't sure of the implications of that threat, but he didn't like the sound of it. He knew angels were more than capable of torture, and they could do it without even lifting a finger. Both younger Winchesters had been on the receiving end of that kind of angelic pain, and it was agonizing. Knives could only cut so deep, whatever the halos did hurt much deeper and much worse. Or would that try to bribe his dad? Would they offer to bring back Mary? Dean wasn't sure what his dad would do if that option was put on the table. Mary and him were set up by the damn cherubs, they were meant to be together. Dean wasn't feeling too sure about his father's refusal anymore.

"If you don't say yes soon, we will move on to your father. One of you will say yes."

And with the heavy flap of wings, he was gone. Dean just stood there for a moment, trying to absorb what had just happened. He turned and saw Cas looking equally worried, frowning at the spot Zachariah had occupied a few seconds ago.
Now, every second counted. They couldn't just fall back on Dean's refusal, now they needed to figure out a way to kill Lucifer soon.

"We need to talk to Sam."

"So Zachariah is gonna talk to dad?" Sam asked, incredulous. "Do you think dad would actually say yes?"

Dean was leaning against a work bench, his arms crossed across his chest as he frowned in thought. Castiel stood beside him, watching the interactions between the brothers, adding in his own comments on what he thought the angels might do. Dean was vaguely aware of the rain starting to fall outside, the steady thrum of it hitting the roof giving away how hard it was falling. He was glad they had all decided to have this conversation in Bobby's garage. They were dry and mostly out of the wind, at least until they tried to go back to the house.
Dean didn't want to go back to the house though. He wondered how long he could stay out here. He could always work on the Impala, it could probably use a tune up by now anyways. Bobby's house wasn't small, but it wasn't exactly huge either. Dean and John were bound to run into each other if they were both in there, and the younger Winchester wasn't ready for that yet. Despite the problem at hand, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering back to that morning.

/"Like some cock-sucking faggot!"/

/"I didn't think you were this stupid! That you would sink this low.”/

Hearing the hate and disgust in his dad's voice was rattling to say the least.

"Dean? Dean!"

Dean looked up at Sam. From the look he got in return, he guessed his brother had been trying to get his attention for a while.

"Huh?" he said intelligently. "No. I don't know!"

He honestly wasn't sure what his dad would do. He didn't know what the angels would do to him or offer him if he didn't say yes immediately. Dean knew John could stand torture, he'd held out for eighty years in the Pit, but the question was, would he want to? There was the possibility their dad would just say yes if he thought doing so would save the planet.

"We need to figure something out before Zach goes to dad. I figure we have a couple days before the god squad try to recruit him." Dean reasoned.

"Right, but Dean," Sam's voice came out a little higher pitched than normal, the worry there obvious. "How are we gonna figure something out in of couple days, that we haven't been able to figure out in a month?"

Everyone had been hitting the books hard on this one since the day Lucifer got out of the Cage. Bobby was translating dozens of scriptures and ancient texts from his rare book collection day and night, only stopping to sleep a few hours, or make a run into town. He also had his most trusted feelers looking for anything that might be useful.
While Bobby pretty much ran the research end of the operation, Sam, Dean and Cas were running all over the country, hunting down every high up demon they could, trying to find out if anyone had information on how to kill the devil. Not many talked, those who did simply said they didn't know. The Winchesters hadn't been able to find Crowley again, they figured if anyone knew anything, it would be that limy mook. So far, nothing. They knew no more now on how to kill Lucifer than they did a month ago after the Colt failed.
Dean knew it was a pipe dream that they would find something within a couple days. They'd asked Cas about it, in fact, it was the first thing they did, but the angel didn't know anything. He'd told them that if any of the angels could help, it would be the archangels. Unfortunately, Michael was out of the question, Raphael wanted Cas dead, and Gabriel was AWOL again, not that Dean would ask him for help even if they could find him.

"What about Ash? He's good at diggin' stuff up, he might be able find something." Dean suggested.

Ash had helped them out on several occasions, he was a handy little dude. After Ellen and Jo died, Ash had disappeared for a couple weeks, pretty much falling off the map while he tried to cope. When he'd popped up again, it was in the drunk tank of some small town jail all the way down in Mexico. Shortly after, he'd made contact with Bobby and asked if he could help out with the research end of a hunt. Everyone wanted to know how he was doing. He'd known Ellen and Jo better than the Winchesters, they'd been his only family for years. But Ash wasn't willing to talk, he just dove into work mode. Dean could understand that, so he'd rolled with it.
Since then, Ash had helped with a few cases, most of the time over the phone. No one knew where he was half the time, and it was damn near impossible to get a hold of him unless he called first, his number change five times a month at least as he moved around. Last they'd heard from him, he'd picked up part time work at a bar a couple states over. Apparently, he was drawn to the drinking atmosphere. They hadn't contacted him in a while, but hopefully he would still be at the same number.

Sam puffed out his cheeks and let the air escape in a loud huff. His hands rested on his hips, something he did when he was frustrated and thinking. The bags under his eyes were becoming more pronounced, and the constant stress was rapidly giving him deep, permanent frown line.

"Okay." he said. "Give him a call."

After sending Sam to root around in the house to find the number of the bar, their luck took a swing for the better when they found out Ash was still working there. Dean managed to talk to him long enough to bring him up to date on what was happening, and ask him to look for a way to kill Lucifer that didn't involve a huge grudge match between the archangel douchbags. Ash promised to get right on it, and told Dean to call again in forty seven hours. Dean had long since learnt not to question Ash on his math or methods. Really, as long as he got results, it didn't matter.

After he hung up, Dean started looking for things to do outside or in the garage. It was raining, so that really narrowed his possibilities down. Sometimes, though not so much lately, Dean would take one of the cars around here that was in okay shape, and fix it up for Bobby. It was nothing spectacular when he was done, nothing like the time or detailing he put into his baby, but enough that the car ran without stalling or over heating. An extra car was always handy, and sometimes, if it was good enough, Bobby would sell it. It was actually nice to earn honest money once in a while, even if it all went to ammo and whiskey.
But today was too rainy and windy to be working outside, even if Bobby did have a half decent '69 Ford Mustang sitting out there that Dean would just love to get his hands on. It needed a couple parts, most of which Dean knew Bobby had, or could be taken from another car. New wheels for sure, and Dean would be willing to bet he would have to rip out all the carpet and probably a seat or two. The older cars that had been sitting out in the field were always infested with mice and rats. Dean had joked that Bobby needed to get a cat, but he knew that idea wouldn't fly. Besides, it would probably take at least ten cats around here to even start keeping the mice in check.
So, there would be no working on a new car today. That's not to say he couldn't work on his own. The Impala was still running smooth, but on the drive in, Dean thought he heard her engine making a funny noise, and he did want to check that out before they took her on the road again. He'd parked her in the garage, so she was nice and dry and ready to work on.
Truthfully, Dean would have worked on her anyway, regardless of whether or not he thought she needed it. He would rather sit in here, bored out of his mind, staring at the car's engine, than risk going inside that house.

The thing was, Bobby's toolkit was in the house, and Dean needed things out of it to work on the car. But, what Bobby called a toolkit was really more of a tool chest. The thing was extremely heavy, and though neither Dean nor Sam were weak, Dean knew Sam couldn't carry that thing if his life depended on it. And, because either Dean or John had always taken care of the car themselves, Sam never learnt much about how to fix it, or what tools were needed. He wasn't completely ignorant, but he always had to check with Dean that the tool he grabbed was the right one, and it was usually just easier for Dean to do it himself. The Winchester thought about asking Cas to grab what he needed, but the nerdy dude knew less about cars and tools than Sam did. Plus, no way Dean was gonna send Cas in there with John. And there was no way he would call Bobby in the house and ask him to bring out everything he needed. He wasn't that childish. If he wanted to work on the Impala, he would need to man up and go into the house himself.

The porch door to Bobby's house had never looked so menacing. This was usually a safe haven. Dean and Sam had hidden out here countless times, whether it was from the cops, other hunters, or supernatural nasties, Bobby's place had always been the one place Dean really felt safe. Of course, all those times he and Sam stayed here, John hadn't been around.
Several times while they were growing up, John would dump his boys with his hunting buddy and take off for weeks at a time. Dean hadn't wanted to admit it at the time, but having a break from his dad had been nice. Not that John was around much before, but Dean still always knew he was coming back in a week or so. Sometimes it was nice, after looking after Sam for so long and feeling responsible for him, it was a relief when his dad got back to help shoulder that load. It wasn't like Dean ever really got a break though, he always felt like Sam was his responsibility, whether or not Bobby or John were around.

Dean looked around anxiously as he walked through the spitting rain. He had his mind made up. He would just walk right in there, head right for the kitchen without looking around or hesitating, grab what he needed, then get the hell out of Dodge. Dean nodded to himself as he went, not sure who he was trying to convince.

The pealing white door squeaked loudly as the Winchester pulled it open, Bobby really needed to oil the hinges. Dean cautiously stepped into the house, listening for voices or footsteps. So far, it seemed quiet, which was almost worse. At least if he'd heard something, he could try and pinpoint who was where. No such luck.
The door slammed shut behind the hunter, making him jump and wince at the noise. Any hope of getting in and out unnoticed were gone. Taking a moment to breathe deeply in a futile attempt to calm his nerves, Dean listen again for noise. Still nothing.
He crept towards the kitchen as quietly and quickly as he could. He relaxed when he made it to the doorway, foolishly thinking he was home free.

Dean rounded the corner, stopping dead when he saw his father sitting at the table. His head was bowed, a beer in his hand that looked mostly empty. There were at least three empties on the table, and a glass with what looked like the remains of whiskey in the bottom. John was just sitting there, completely still other than his thumbs toying with the loose corner of the label on the sweating bottle. He looked up when Dean entered the doorway. The two locked eyes for a moment, both frozen in place. Dean immediately put up his defensive, hard front. His eyes glazed over, the nervousness and hurt hidden behind cold anger and disappointment. John, on the other hand, didn't look angry. He met his son's eyes, but didn't put up a barrier like he almost always did. Dean could see the raw emotion there, and it shocked him. It almost looked like regret, but Dean brushed that off immediately. John didn't regret anything.
He didn't regret dragging his kids around the country, teaching them how to track down and kill anything none human. He didn't regret kicking Sam out when the younger Winchester wanted to go to college, and he certainly didn't regret what he'd said to his oldest son.
When John opened his mouth as if to say something, Dean clenched his jaw and turned away, heading to the toolbox. He rooted around for a minute or so grabbing the tools he needed. A couple wrenches, a funnel and pan because he might as well change the oil while he was at it, and a few other odds and ends. He was all set to walk out. It hadn't gone exactly as he'd planned, certainly running into John wasn't high on his list of things he wanted to do, but he hadn't had to talk to his father, so that was a plus. He wasn't even sure why he was scared. He was a grown man, damn it! What he did with Cas was between him and Cas, it wasn't anyone’s business but thiers, least of all his dad's! It wasn't like they were hurting anyone.
Lastly, before he left, Dean grabbed three beers out of the fridge. With one hand, he held the bottles by their necks, in the other, he held his tools. Satisfied that he was all set, Dean headed for the door.

"Dean-" John called out to stop him, his voice surprisingly soft and quiet. Not loud and rough like Dean had anticipated.

The younger Winchester, however, didn't care. He'd given his dad enough free passes when he was a kid. He'd forgiven the drunken beatings, the money and food running out when his dad was gone too long, the yelling and screaming when anyone stepped out of line. Dean was done just letting everything be okay. He spun around and shot a silencing glare at his dad, watching John's mouth slam shut in surprise.

"Don't." Dean practically growled. When John said nothing else, the younger hunter turned and left, letting the door slam behind him.

The next morning, John trod tiredly up the stairs. His feet dragged on every step, and he nearly stumbled twice, barely catching himself with the shaky railing. He'd hardly slept, kept awake by thoughts of his boy and that angel. He'd thought over what Bobby said, but he still couldn't quite wrap his head around the idea. Would Dean really chose some gay fling fuck buddy over his own family?
Sam and Bobby seemed to have firmly chosen Dean's side, but that didn't surprise John. He and Bobby had been butting heads for as long as they'd known each other, and Sam was always infinitely closer to his big brother than to his father.

John could remember little about last night. He'd gotten pretty drunk after Dean stormed out, he could remember becoming very upset about what Bobby had said, and trying to talk to Dean when the boy came back in, only to get a glare and a firm "Don't" before his son left again. Thank god he hadn't started spewing out apologies and acceptance speeches.
It still didn't make any sense to him, though. When had Dean turned into... this? John had thought about it a lot, he couldn't remember a single incident that ever gave him any indicating his oldest was gonna be a poof. Dean had always been a smooth talking ladies man, John had never once seen his boy so much as second glance a guy.
That thought made him pause mid step. It was true, he'd never seen Dean check out a man, but with all the times John had left his sons alone on hunts for weeks, sent Dean off on his own solo cases or left him and Sam at Bobby's while he buried himself in research, Dean had actually been alone plenty. Plenty enough to sneak around with certain people and do certain things John did not approve of.
Of course, at the time, the older hunter had simply assumed Dean was responsible enough to know better, but apparently he'd assumed wrong. Up until he'd found out about the damn angel, John had assumed the worst thing Dean had done while he was gone was smoke pot. He'd never caught his boy at that either come to think about it, but it was hard to miss the lingering smell.

Resuming his steady climb out of Bobby's dingy basement, John thought he could hear shuffling and bags being dropped upstairs. It sounded like someone was getting ready to leave.
Opening the basement door, John's guess was confirmed. Two duffels sat by the door, packed full of what the hunter could only assume were clothes and the like. Sam was just coming back inside, looking like he'd been up for a couple hours.

"I got the trunk loaded."

"So we all good to go?"

John turned at the sound of the second voice. He hadn't noticed Dean standing there at first, and judging by his son's next reaction, Dean hadn't noticed John either.

"Where are you boys off to?" The older hunter asked.

Dean couldn't help the way he jumped at his dad's voice. Spinning quickly to his right, he saw John standing in the basement entry, dark bags under his eyes and his clothes rumpled from sleeping in them. It only took a moment for Dean to snap out of his surprise. His features hardened again and his jaw clenched tightly as he turned away. Grabbing the duffel bags near the door, the Winchester shoved past his brother and out the door, which Sam barely caught before it slammed.

"We, uh... Got a tip for a hunt a couple states away." Sam said, the hesitation to tell his dad clear in his voice. Had he and Dean had it their way, they would have been on the road before John was up.

John nodded, knowing right away that neither of his boys wanted him along on the hunt. He shifted a little uncomfortably in the doorway, taking a few steps toward Sam before he remembered his youngest backing him against a wall the other day. Not really wanting a confrontation this early in the morning, he stopped.

"Am I gonna keep getting the silent treatment for him?" John huffed, nodding towards the door his eldest had just walked out.

Sam's demeanour changed instantly. Before, he'd been mostly calm, if a little tense around his dad, waiting for him and Dean to have it out again. Now, it was almost like Sam was the big brother. He stiffened, his hands subconsciously clenching at his sides.

"You'll get the silent treatment from everyone if you don't apologize soon."

Without waiting for an answer, Sam followed his brother out the door, leaving John standing alone in the hallway.

The Impala rumbled smoothly down the highway, the hum of the tires on pavement and the absence of his father doing great things to sooth Dean's nerves. He'd been wired since John found out about Cas, and the constant stress and the sneaking around had been making him fidgety. Even at night when he and Cas were upstairs in their room, Dean could hardly relax, ready for his dad to snap and come barging in. He'd nearly felt his knees give out with relief when the opportunity to leave arose, gladly finishing up the work on his car, and packing a bag for him and Cas the night before they were going to leave.
The angel had been doing his best to sooth Dean ever since John came back, but even he was relieved when the hunter told him they were gonna hit the road the next day. He knew how badly the two oldest Winchesters needed a break from each other to think.

"Does dad have any idea what we're doing?" Dean asked, turning his head slightly to Sam in the back seat, but without letting his eyes leave the road.

"No." Sam answered. "I told him we were going on a hunt, he doesn't know we're going to see Ash."

Dean nodded, still focusing on the road, letting the vibrations of his baby calm him with it's constant buzz.

"It's a day long drive to get there, so we should be right on time."

"Has Ash shared any theories yet?" Castiel asked, watching Dean from the back seat attentively.

The conversation between Dean and Ash had only lasted two minutes tops. The guy phoned the night before, telling them he thought he was onto something, but that he wouldn't talk over the phone. After confirming the address they could find him at, they'd both hung up.

"No," Dean answered.

Normally he would have been put off at having to drive this far on a maybe, but with everything going on between him and his dad, and with Zachariah, Dean felt good getting out of the house. They couldn't tell Bobby much with John close by, other than to make sure the angel proofing stayed up, and to keep John in the house if he could.

"Ash doesn't like talking on the phone. He's worried someone might have tapped the line or something."

Castiel said nothing, leaving Dean and Sam to deal with their eccentric friend. He'd been told by both of them that Ash was a genius, and if the man had already found a possible lead, they couldn't be wrong.

"You think he's found a way to kill Lucifer without you or dad saying yes?" Sam asked, leafing through a book in the passenger seat. Dean couldn't see what it was, but there was what looked to be Enochian written on the front.

"I hope so." the older Winchester said.

The visit with Ash had gone pretty quickly.

After arriving at the bar he was working at around eleven that night, Ash had quickly ushered them behind the counter and into a dim, slightly muggy basement storage room. A quick introduction between him and Cas, and they had gotten right down to business. The bartender hadn't found out much yet, but he had a pretty promising lead.

"So, we know you can't kill the devil, right? Too risky in the long run. But, you might be able to trap him again."

That picked everyone's interest. Castiel had seemed especially curious, as he had assumed as an angel, he would have known about all this.

"There are keys to his cage, you need to collect them all to unlock it, then you can jam him back in there."

Of course, everyone had been hoping for more information than that, especially Sam, who was more determined than any of them to fix his own mess.

"That's all you got?" Dean asked, a little annoyed. The pressure was really on now to stop the devil before half the population had to pay for this slip up.

"What? You got anything better?" Ash asked Dean. The hunter didn't answer, he knew he shouldn't be criticizing when Ash was the only one to have found anything so far.

"Ash, how did you find out all this?" Sam asked.

The mullet sporting man sank down until he was crouching low enough to root through the bottom shelf of one of the shelves on his right. After moving some things out of the way, he pulled out what everybody could only assume had been a laptop at one point. Now, wires and cables stuck out everywhere, connecting to each other and to the laptop frame. The keyboard was pretty much gone, only a few of the keys left, the others appeared to have been ripped off to make room for more wires. The thing was definitely Ash's work.

"I rewired this thing, made some modifications to the original design, all that. Took me about an hour."

Sam, the nerdy geek he was, looked like a little kid who was just given a puppy. He stared in awe at the strange computer, looking like he had a thousand questions.
Dean, on the other hand, was less impressed. He didn't care how Ash got his info, as long as it was correct and quick. He was about to ask what the hell the computer did, but before he could, it was turned on. The screen was blank white, with wavy blue lines scattered all over it. Ash clicked on one, and instantly a high pitched ringing emitted from the computer. Dean could remember hearing the noise before, only on a much louder scale.

"Is that angel radio?" the hunter asked. How had Ash managed to pick up that?

"Yup." Ash said, not sounding the least bit proud of his achievement. In fact, he almost made it seem like the task had been easy. "That's Enochian. I'm fluent. Any time any of the angels chat, I hear what's being said."

The brothers both stood and stared at their friend, a little shocked and more than impressed. Castiel only looked at the computer screen with sadness. He didn't regret rebelling to help the Winchesters and to be with Dean, but sometimes he missed Heaven. And he hadn't heard the angels talking since he was cut off from the host.

"I've been tuned in to the higher ups mostly, the foot soldiers don't know much."

Dean and Sam listened to the high pitched ringing for a moment, wondering how Ash could could understand it at all, when there didn't seem to be any variations in the sound.

"Anything else?" Dean asked, eager to start getting a plan together.

"Something about the four horsemen, but I don't know what. They come up a lot when the angels talk about the cage."

Dean didn't like the sound of anything to do with the four horsemen. In all their extensive research about Lucifer and the Apocalypse, they had read plenty about the horsemen being risen by the devil, and doing all kinda of nasty things. So far, they'd been keeping an eye out on the news, and they'd seen some odd things that they thought might have been the work of Pestilence, or Death, but they couldn't be sure. Besides, they had no idea how to stop any of the riders, even if they did know where they were. When Ash saw Dean's disappointment, he became a little defensive.

"Look, it ain't crystal clear, alright? It's kinda like listening to a conversation through a door, I only get bits here an' there."

Sam, being the mediator, quickly stepped in.

"Thanks, Ash, really. This is more than we would have ever found."

The guy nodded, closing his monstrosity of a computer and putting it away back under the shelf.

"You guys might as well head back. Give me a few more day, and I'll call with an update."

Dean grumbled a little to himself, but nodded and thanked Ash for all his help. They all went back upstairs, and after a round of beers on the house, they headed for the nearest motel to crash for a couple hours before making the long drive back.

They got back to Bobby's around six the next day. Everyone was exhausted after the thirteen hour drive, coupled with getting up at five to leave after only sleeping a few hours. Cas was falling asleep in the back seat, and Sam was leaning heavily against his window, blinking slowly.
Dean turned down the dusty road into Bobby's yard. He couldn't wait to flop down on a real bed with Cas and just sleep for a couple more hours. He was hungry too, but right now that was second to his desire to be unconscious. He could eat later.

As he neared to house, he could see his dad outside, carrying duffels to Bobby's beat up van.

"What's he doing?" Dean asked out loud, prompting Sam to sit up and take a look as well.

"I don't know. You wanna head inside and I'll ask?"

Dean was pretty sure John was leaving because of him. They'd been at each others' throats since the oldest Winchester got back, and a couple days ago it had finally come to a head. John found out about Cas, and now he was pissed and wanted to leave.

"Nah, I'll ask. Can you take Cas with you though?"

Sam nodded, glancing at the sleeping angel in the back seat.

Dean pulled up past the van before he stopped the engine, ignoring the fact that his dad hadn't so much as glanced in their direction when they pulled in.

Sam and Cas grabbed the bags from the truck while Dean stretched. On the way past, the angel shot Dean a questioning look. It was obvious he didn't want to leave the older Winchesters alone together after their last encounter. The hunter faked a reassuring smile and nodded towards the house encouragingly. He watch Cas go until he was out of ear shot, then stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked over to his father.

"What's going on?" Dean asked, looking around the yard to distance himself mentally as much as possible.

John didn't bother looking up from organizing his things in the back of the van.

"There's a hunt a few towns over."

Dean chose to ignore the fact that since the day of their argument, his father hadn't looked at him, and that he still wouldn't. The younger hunter strongly suspected John's "hunt" was really just an excuse to go get drunk somewhere else. Most likely he would go into town and spend a few nights a motel, after going to a bar. But even so, with Zachariah ready to pounce, Dean didn't want John leaving by himself.

"If you give me five minutes, I can grab my bag and go with you."

The words were so forced that Dean really was surprised he'd gotten them out at all. He hated that he'd volunteered himself to go, but dad and Sam never got along even before this, Bobby had been putting up with him for days already, and like hell Dean was gonna send Cas.

"I'm going alone. Besides, I wouldn't trust some limp-wristed poof to cover me on a hunt."

Dean felt his heart drop into his stomach, at the same time it felt like all the air had been punched from his lungs. He stared at his father's back, speechless. He just stood there, frozen, trying to process what his dad had just said. John didn't think he could do his job anymore? What the hell kind of bullshit was that!?
Dean couldn't stand there anymore, he couldn't be this close to his dad. Turning on his heal, he practically ran to the house, but stopped himself out of sheer stubbornness. He was not going to let his dad know how much that had hurt.

By the time Dean got back to the house, he was royally pissed. Part of him wanted to go back out there, demand that his father look at him, and then beat the shit out of him. That would certainly prove he hadn't lost his touch. But the other part just wanted John to leave. He wanted him gone for good, damn the consequences.
The look on his face must have said a lot, because he didn't make it three feet into the house before Bobby asked what happened. Dean really wasn't in the mood to talk at the moment, so he just shouldered past the old hunter and headed for the stares. He only made it another two feet before someone grabbed his arm and spun him around.

"Dean, what happened?" Bobby demanded.

The younger hunter was surprised to realize he had to swallow around a lump in his throat before he could get anything out, and even then, he had trouble looking Bobby in the eye.

"Apparently hunting is too dangerous for a "limp-wristed poof" like me."

Before Bobby could say anything, Dean pulled out of his grasp and stormed upstairs.
It took Bobby all of two seconds to decide what to do. He threw open his door and marched outside, his jaw set and his fists clenched.

"John!" he called once he was about halfway to the hunter.

John shut the door of the van and turned to face his old hunting partner, only to be met with a solid right hook before he was even half way done turning. Being so close to the van, when his head recoiled it hit the rusted side of the vehicle in with a loud thud. An instant headache bloomed in his temples and base of his skull, and he was having trouble getting his bearings. He managed to face Bobby, but couldn't even get the words "What the hell?" out before he was slammed back first against the van, knocking all the air out of him.

"If you ever say anything like that to Dean again, I swear to god I'll come after you with a shotgun!"

It wasn't often that Bobby screamed at someone. He was well respected in the hunting community, and even when he faked being the FBI, or Homeland Security, he spoke with a kind of confidence that made people listen and believe whatever he told them. He could usually make his point with a few sassy remarks or a pointed look, and despite everything going on, he was generally calm. But when he did snap, it was for a damn good reason, and he would go right off the rails on whoever he needed to. Lately, that was John.
But John on the other hand, snapped much quicker. He was usually grumpy to begin with, so any slight thing could set him off. He exploded on people all the time, and after gaining a reputation as one of the best hunters out there, he didn't put up with other people trying to tell him anything.
Using the same move Dean had a few days ago, John knocked Bobby's hands off of him and shoved him back.

"It's none of your fucking business, Bobby!"

"The hell it ain't! I've been helping you raise those boys since they were three and seven! I've taught them a lot about the job, I'm helping them try to stop the god damn Apocalypse for fuck sakes! They are just as much my boys as they are yours! Every bit of this is my business!"

John huffed as he turned away from Bobby, ready to just get in the van and go.

"Would you be actin' this way if Cas was in some girl's body?"

John clenched his jaw and refused to look at the other man. He tried to move for the van door, but Bobby grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around, knocking him against the vehicle again. If John was gonna leave, Bobby at least wanted him to realize that his only problem with Castiel was Jimmy.
"Look me in the eye, and tell me you would still be blindly hating Cas if he was in a different meatsuit. Tell me that if he was a girl, it still wouldn't matter how much he's done for all of us, especially Dean."
John glared defiantly at the man who'd once been his friend, his lips pressed in a thin line, before stubbornly looking towards the road. His silence was answer enough.
He felt Bobby's death grip on his jacket slowly loosen, until the hunter's hands fell away. The man in the ball cap stood in stunned silence, the surprise on his face slowly clouding instead with anger.

"You're unbelievable, John." he finally said, slowly moving away from the man he no longer wanted anything to do with. "Get the hell off my property." he demanded with a dismissing wave.

Bobby didn't bother watching John get into his van, the slam of the door and sound of gravel flying was enough to let him know the bastard was gone. The older hunter wondered how many people John was willing to cut out of his life before he realized he had no one else left to abandon.

Castiel stood in the doorway to his and Dean's room, watching with nervous concern as the hunter paced back and forth in front of the bed. Dean was shaking as he stared at the floor, and at this point, Cas wasn't sure if the shaking was from rage, stress, or fear.
Dean hadn't spoken much about his father since the day John found out about them, and Castiel didn't want to pry if the hunter didn't want to talk about it, but he was concerned. He didn't know exactly how things were between the Winchesters, other than Sam was on their side. It pained the angel to think any parent could do this to their child, that they could turn on them for something as simple and pure as who they loved.

"'...wouldn't trust some limp-wristed poof to cover me on a hunt.' What the fuck does that even mean? What? He thinks I can't still do the job? What kind of bullshit is that?!"

Castiel didn't know what to say to comfort the human. He knew Dean was one of the best in the hunting community, but he didn't think telling him so would help right now.

"He honestly thinks that all of a sudden I'm weaker? That I can't hold up my end? Just 'cause I'm with you?"

Dean wanted to fight. At this point, he didn't care who, he just wanted to hit something, or break something or scream. This was the man he'd once idolized, once stuck up for, risked his life for? He was John's son! His own flesh and blood, how could he just be disowned like he was nothing?

"I always did whatever he asked! I've given everything I've ever had to help him. I was exactly who he wanted me to be, and even that was never good enough! And now... This is what I get for being honest? Fucking shunned?!"

He threw his hands up, looking at Cas as if the question weren't rhetorical. The hunter let his arms drop, slapping his sides as the rage slowly left him, replaced instead by despair. His gaze was drawn around the room as a lump built in his throat, steadily making it harder for him to breathe. Castiel was still watching him, his blue eyes concerned and sympathetic. He wished he knew what to do to comfort the man who had come to mean so much to him, but Dean usually rejected comforting. The hunter always tried to stay strong, to carry everyone's burdens with his own, but it weighed on him. And when things got really bad like this, he couldn't handle it.
Green eyes locked onto his blue ones, and Cas very nearly couldn't stand to see the anguish and hopelessness in their depths. In a broken, quiet voice, Dean had to force his next words out.

"I don't want him to hate me."

The angel didn't hesitated this time to cross the room and pull the hunter into a tight embrace. He waited patiently while Dean slowly decided to accept it, and finally pulled Castiel closer to himself. The Winchester tucked his face into the crook of the brunet's neck, and Cas felt his heart sink even further as the first warm, salty drops touched his neck.
For once, Dean didn't try to bottle the emotion again immediately. His sobs grew harder, his breathing more ragged, and his arms tightened around his angel even more. Castiel simply stood where he was and held Dean, wishing there was something more he could do.

"I know he dragged me and Sam into a dangerous life, I know he wasn't there when he should've been, I know he put too much on me way to young, but..." Dean trailed off, a sob interrupting his sentence.

Castiel only held him tighter as the hunter clung to him.

"But he's still your father, and what he thinks still matters." the angel finished for his human.

Dean could only nod against his shoulder, shaking as another sob forced it's way out of him.

The wheezing screech of the van's engine could not be drowned out by the blasting radio. John cursed loudly as he sped down the highway, slapping the wheel every couple minutes in a surged of frustration.

"Fucking Bobby kicking me out of the house. They're my fucking kids! What right does he think-"

John never finished his sentence. Before he could, Cas poofed into the dusty van's passenger seat, causing the Winchester to jump and swerve into the oncoming traffic lane. The hunter quickly regained his composer after he swerved back into the right lane, the scowl on his face deepened as he glared at the unwelcome angel in the seat next the him. The angel, for his part, stared out the front window, unmoved by the hunter's anger, or his potential accident a few moments back.

"Are you fucking crazy!? You coulda gotten me killed!"

John waited for the angel to say something, but he never did. The hunter finally conceded.

"What do you want?" he asked. "Did Dean send you here to kick my ass or something?"

The angel didn't bother looking at him. In fact, he hadn't so much as spared John a glance since he'd appeared in Bobby's rusted van.

"You know, your bible gets more wrong than it does right. Homosexuality isn't frowned upon by God as so many people think."

John only huffed.

"I don't give a fuck. It's disgusting."

The angel still wouldn't look at him.

"John, Dean has idolized you since he was three. He has always tried to make you proud of him, to gain your approval."

John huffed again.

"Well, he doesn't have it now."

For the first time since he appeared in the vehicle, the angel looked angry. More than angry actually, he looked furious.

"And why is that? I do not believe you know me well enough to disapprove of my character. Though I suppose character doesn't come into it when you cannot see past my male vessel."

John stared out the front window, doing his best to ignore the other passenger. Even so, he could feel the tension in the van. The air practically crackled with it.

"You're hurting him more than you can imagine by doing this. He doesn't need your approval, but he needs to know you do not hate him."

For the first time since this tense conversation started, the angel turned to look at the hunter.

"John, I know that family is the most important thing to you, it's the reason you became a hunter. I wish to tell you that you risk loosing what little family you have by doing this."

Without waiting for a reply, the angel poofed out again. The heavy flap of wings and slight breeze the only signal he'd gone. John sighed heavily and started looking for the nearest bar.

Thankfully, the small town of Sioux Falls, though lacking in malls, movie theatres and department stores, was abundant in bars, taverns and cold beer and wine stores. John had only been within the town limits for three minutes before a promising looking bar was in sight. He pulled up out front, shut the POS van off, and threw his shoulder into the door to open it. As he stepped out, he was pleased to see a two story motel three blocks down the street. Walking distance after he got shit faced and decided it was time to black out.

Three double shots of brandy and a double whiskey later, and John finally felt like he could breathe again. He was sitting up at the bar, leaning over heavily on his forearms. He hadn't bothered with a booth, up at the counter the drinks flowed faster.
His head was still pounding. The lack of sleep, the booze and Bobby's right hook were all slowly coming together, until it felt like someone had stabbed red hot knives into his temples and behind his eyes.
He must have looked worse than he thought, because after a few minutes, he noticed the bartender watching him with concern.

"Hey, buddy? Maybe you should slow down a bit."

As if in defiance, John downed the last few dredges of whiskey in his glass in one swallow, wincing a little at the burn.

"I need it." the hunter said, motioning for a refill.

When the bartender, Dave according to his name tag, only gave him a single, John tapped the rim of his glass, demanding a double. Dave raised his eyebrows at John, but conceded and poured the older man a double.

"So what happened?" Dave asked.

John looked up at the kid. He looked about twenty-six, twenty-nine at the most. Not built, but not a scrawn either. John figured if he stood up, the brunet would be a little shorter then himself.
The hunter said nothing, choosing to stare into his glass instead. Dave took the hint and walked off to check on his other costumers.
John had discovered, early in his drinking career, that he was a talker when he got drunk. It wasn't something he was proud of, in fact, he hated it. It hadn't been much of a problem when he was younger. Other than the war, he really didn't have anything much to talk about. Besides, he hadn't been a big drinker, so it hadn't been too often he got drunk enough to rant.
But after what happen to Mary, and after talking to Missouri and finding out a little about the supernatural, the Winchester quickly gained three best friends by the names of Jack Daniels, Jim Bean and Johnny Walker. Only now, getting that drunk around people could be dangerous, least he start ranting about the monsters, or Mary.
Another downed drink later, John was more than buzzed, but not yet as shit faced as he planned to be. He felt more relaxed than he had in the last few days.

The bar was starting to empty, only a few patrons in a booth against the back wall, and John up at the counter were left. The bartender was starting to close down, taking the bowls of peanuts from the bar and pouring what was left back into a can. He spared John a glance, eyes silently questioning why he was in here drinking like it was a contest. Normally John would have just ignored him unless his glass was empty. It wasn't, so really, he had no reason to so much as look at the bartender, let alone speak to him. But the kid kept looking at him all concerned and a little wary, glancing at John every time he passed by. It was starting to annoy the hunter. In logic only a booze addled brain could follow, he decided maybe if he told Dave why he was drinking, the guy would understand and stop watching him like a hawk.

"I met my son's boyfriend the other day." he started, only slurring a little.

Dave stopped short and glanced around. Once he was sure his costumer was talking to him, he leaned back against the wall so he was facing John.

"Oh yeah? What? You don't approve of the guy?"

"I don't approve of any guy! I didn't raise my son to be some nancy boy!" John snapped.

Dave, not at all intimidated by the older man's anger, didn't apologize or remain silent like some bartenders might have. He didn't care if this lost him his tip.

Dave had been the main bartender and partial owner here for three years now, and had hired everyone working here himself. He was good friends with the owner of the bar, an older man in his sixties named Jake Barr. Jake had been wanting to sell the bar for a couple years now, but rather than sell to the highest offer, he was letting Dave make payments on the place. Dave had always ensured that this place was a safe for everyone, even when he started here as a waiter. He'd noticed, after a while, that he gained more costumers than he lost by doing this. For every loudmouth drunkard he'd had tossed out, he'd gained new regular costumers who'd heard about a regular bar that was more than accepting. So when someone came in here and started spewing off offensive slurs, the bartender would not hesitate to say something, even going as far as to kick out well paying patrons who would not shut up.

"You fuckin' bible thumpin' breeders makin' life that much harder for anyone who isn't straight and cis. It doesn't matter how your kid was raised, bein' gay or bi or pan, or whatever he is, ain't a fuckin' choice!"

John was a little taken back by the venom behind the bartender's words. More surprising, was that a total stranger was defending his kid, someone he'd never met.

"'Course it's a choice. It ain't natural." John wasn't yelling yet, but he certainly wasn't whispering either.

Now Dave was really getting riled up. Uneducated bigots were almost as enraging as bigots who blindly hated. It seemed this stranger was somehow both.

"Did you chose to be straight?" Dave asked, barely suppressing the urge to scream. For once, John said nothing.

Dave tried to relax and think about this logically. He could always toss this asshole out of here, then he wouldn't have to deal with him. But what was this guy's son going through? Had he been hiding this for a long time? Or had he just figured it out? Had he known his father would react like this? The bartender wondered how old this guy's son was. He hoped the kid was at least old enough to leave if he needed to, or, even better, had moved out already.

"Look," Dave started, sounding a little sad, and almost nostalgic. "My old man and little sister used to be really close. She was his little girl, they were always doing stuff together. Right from the time she was five, it was rare those two weren't at the track or the garage together. She idolized him, always tried to be like our dad."

John had an idea of where this was headed, but he was too drunk to stop Dave or get up and leave.
The bartender paused in his story, smiling a little at the memories of happier times. He shook himself out of his revery, looking upset all of a sudden. His attention was now on the mug he'd picked up again. He watched his hands clean the glass, clenching his jaw against the newer memories.

"Then one day, during grade 10, Susan came home from school with another girl. Julie. Dad didn't think anything of it, he figured it was just a friend of hers. Then he saw Sue kiss Julie before she went home."

Dave had to stop for a minute. He looked back up at John.

"I don't think I've ever seen my dad that mad. He screamed at her, called her horrible names, tried to hit her. Would have succeeded if I hadn't gotten between them."

John saw the bartender wince, and in that moment he knew Dave had taken a beating for defending his sister.

"He kicked Sue out that night. She went to live with our mom a state over. Her and dad haven't spoken to each other in fifteen years. My dad has never met his daughter in law, or his two grand kids."

John was silent. He stared at the bar counter, fidgeting with a coaster, unable to meet the bartender's accusing eyes. He was vaguely aware of Dave cursing, before yelling at the waiter to come over.
A man a good head shorter than Dave hopped behind the bar. He was evidently not only smaller, but at least six years younger than his boss.

"Jerry, take over for a couple minutes. I'm going out back for a smoke."

The waiter nodded, comfortable with managing a near empty bar.

Dave paused at the door, one hand on the knob, the other already in his jeans pocket, feeling around for a lighter. He looked back at John, who was still acting mesmerized by the wood grain of the counter.

"I saw what it did to my dad to lose his daughter like that. I'm serious man. Don't be like him.

Without another word, Dave slipped out the door. The waiter watched him go, then turned to John.

"Anything else for you, sir?"

John could only shake his head mutely. His eyes were glued to the bar top as he sat deep in thought. Bobby's voice rang clear in his head.

"If you don't hurry up and make things right with Dean, you're gonna lose him and Sam for good."

John hadn't really believed Bobby when he'd said that Dean would pick the angel over him, but after how he'd been criticizing and shoving Dean around since he'd gotten back, would it really be so surprising? And the things he'd said to him...

/"I didn't raise you like this."

"Like what?"

"Like some cock-sucking faggot! I didn't think you were this stupid! That you would sink this low. It's disgusting enough that he's a man, but-"/

/"I'm going alone. Besides, I wouldn't trust some limp-wristed poof to cover me on a hunt."/

John hung his head and let out an explosive sigh. He ran restless fingers through his hair, messing it up worse than it had been before. Suddenly, the thought of booze wasn't as enticing as earlier. He paid for his drinks, told the waiter to keep the change, and stumbled out the door.

John sat slumped on his lumpy motel mattress. The room stunk like sweat and cheap air-freshener, the walls and carpet were stained, and the heater rattled loudly against the wall, but the hunter hardly noticed. His buzz was doing nothing to help relax him or take his mind off things. If anything, it had only made things worse.
It was all that stupid bartender's fault. If he hadn't gone all bleeding heart on John about his sister, the Winchester never would have started seriously considering he might lose his family. Honestly, he'd been half expecting Dean to call and ask him to come back. No such call had been made, and it was looking less and less likely there would be one. On some level, John knew it had been an incredible long shot.
The hunter was still surprised at how quickly Dave had defended someone who was a stranger to him. The way he'd called John out of everything, making demands and laying out facts, using terms the hunter had never even heard. Cis, bi, pan... John figured those were kinda like 'gay' or 'straight', but different. They confused him. He'd always just thought in terms of you were either straight, or you weren't. Now he guessed there were all these fancy new titles.
But if Dean were bi or pan or whatever, why did he only ever go for women? It just didn't make sense to John why now all of a sudden his boy was screwing around with some guy. Then John remembered his train of thought from a couple days ago. Just 'cause he'd only ever seen Dean go after girls, didn't mean his son hadn't had plenty of free time to chase after boys too.
So it was perfectly possible, even probable, that his boy had been interested in boys for as long as he'd been interested in girls. So what did that make Dean? If he liked guys and girls? John wished he'd had the sense to bring one of Bobby's laptops. Then he could have read up on some of this a little more.
The hunter toyed absentmindedly with his wedding band, spinning it on his finger, watching the silver shine in the crappy light. He wasn't sure how he'd still had it when he'd come back, but none the less, he'd been relieve to discover it was still on his hand once he'd had the sense to check for it. His mind wondered to Mary, as if often did, and he wished she was here. He wondered what his wife would have thought about all this. About Dean and Cas. He had the feeling that she wouldn't have cared. Hell, she might have even seen this coming. She probably would have cornered Dean and flat out told him she knew and that he could quite sneaking around and getting Sam to cover for him.
Despite himself, John couldn't help but smile at the thought of Dean, wide eyed and surprised, as his mother told him next time that boy snuck into his room at night, her son ought to have the manners to ask him to stay for breakfast.
As he thought about how supportive Mary would have been, a second thought popped into his head. Mary would have been furious with her husband for acting the way he had. If she was still around, she probably would have kicked him out long before Bobby did.
John sighed again and let his head drop further. He'd really fucked up this time.

"Ash, please tell me you found something?"

Dean anxiously tapped his fingers against his phone, hoping for good news. He, Sam and Bobby were all still researching as much as they could about the devil and possible ways to stop him, but Ash was the only one making any headway. With a direct line to the angels, he was really their best shot at stopping the Apocalypses and Lucifer.

"I've been listening, dude. I think I'm getting close to figuring out what the keys are."

Dean managed to keep from sighing, though he did tiredly rub his eyes in frustration. He let his body slump against the wall, as his head fell forward. He felt exhausted. Really, he hadn't slept well since John came back, and now with the very real possibility of the end of the world looming over them, his stress level was maxed out.

"Alright." he said tightly. "Keep us updated. We need to figure out something before Zach goes after dad."

"I know. Call me back in... Sixty two hours."

Dean fought the urge to scream that they didn't have sixty two hours. Zachariah said they only had a couple days, for all they knew, he'd already talked John into being an angel condom.
But Dean reined himself in from snapping. Ash was the only one to get any result yet, and really, he was only taking a couple days to do something that would have taken the Winchesters months.

"Ok. Call you then Ash. Thanks."

"No problem dude."

Dean snapped his phone shut and tucked it back into his pocket, finally letting out the sigh he'd been holding in. He let his head fall back against the wall as another wave of fatigued washed over him.
On some level, he knew he was doing all he could to stop this. They all were. But at the same time, it felt like he was pushing a rock up a hill, only he wasn't moving. There was absolutely nothing in any of Bobby's books, none of his sources could find anything, and other than the progress Ash had made, they were basically still where they had been a month ago. They didn't have a plan, they didn't know where Lucifer was, and they didn't know if they could stop the big showdown. John had taken off yesterday, and if he hadn't said yes already, it was probably only a matter of time.
Dean was pulled out of his pessimistic thoughts by the sound of a screeching motor pulling into Bobby's yard. Pushing off the wall, Dean peered out the window to see who was here. He wasn't sure how he felt when he saw the rusted van park next to the Nova, his dad in the driver's seat. Why the hell was he back? Apparently Bobby was wondering the same thing.
Dean watched as the gruff hunter stormed outside, reaching John before the Winchester could take two steps away from the van.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" Bobby demanded as he crowded John in against his van.

John let Bobby back him up a few step before he spoke.

"I want to talk to Dean."

Despite seeing how exhausted and calm John was, after the last few days, Bobby wasn't gonna let this man hurt his kid anymore.

"Yeah? About what?" the older hunter spat.

"Bobby." Dean interrupted.

Bobby turned just as John looked around him at Dean. The Winchester stood on the front porch, his arms crossed over of his chest, feet braced shoulder width apart, his head held high as he glared at his father.

"It's fine. I'll handle it."

Dean never took his eyes off his dad, even as he addressed the other hunter. Bobby nodded at the younger Winchester, then turned to John, lowering his voice so only the other man would hear it.

"If you upset him again, I promise, they won't be able to use dental records to identify your body." his voice was low, dangerously calm, and John nodded in understanding. Bobby had already given him too many free passes.

The hunter in the ball cap stalked off without another word, leaving the two oldest Winchesters alone.
John didn't move from his spot near the van, and Dean made no indication he was going to come any closer.

"What do you want?" Dean asked coldly, not bothering with formalities.

John didn't want to have this conversation outside, thirty feet away from his son. As he began walking closer, he noticed Dean never dropped his defensive stance.

"Can we go inside?" John asked, looking up at his son somewhat hopefully.

For a second it looked like Dean was going to refuse, maybe tell his dad to stick it where the sun don't shine and get the fuck out of here. But after a few tense moments of silence, he let his arms drop and lead his father inside.
Once they were in the kitchen, John sat down at the table, and motioned for Dean to do the same. Dean stayed standing. He resumed his closed off stance, arms crossed in front of his chest, head almost defiantly high. John cleared his throat in discomfort.

"So, uh... Where's Sam?"

"In town." Dean replied curtly.

John nodded, glancing away from his son.

"Where's the angel?"

"Cas isn't here."

John had wanted to find a way to ease into this, but Dean wasn't giving him the chance. He was pissed and to the point, barely resisting the urge to throw punches.

"Listen, Dean.... We... I said some things I shouldn't have-"

"Like calling Cas a traitor? Or saying I couldn't do my damn job properly anymore? Or how about all those names you called me?"

John sighed in regret, unable to meet his son's angry glare.

"That and more. I want-need to apologize."

"Damn right you do."

"Will you please let me say what I came back to say?"

Dean remained silent. Grinding his teeth, he simply watched his dad. John took that as his cue.

"Look, it was just the way I was raised, Dean. When I was growing up-"

"It was the way Bobby was raised too, but you don't see him throwing a fit."

John breathed out heavily through his nose. He looked down at the worn out table, tracing the wood grain pattern for a moment.

"Fine. I won't try to make excuses. I shouldn't have said those things, I know you are one of the best hunters out there, and... for upsetting you, I'm sorry."

Dean didn't even flinch.

"Fine."

John was taken aback. What did he mean by that? He still looked royally pissed.

"Fine?"

"Fine. You're sorry. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

John felt his heart drop. This was it. What the bartender had warned him about. He'd pushed Dean too far, and now Dean was pushing back. He was severing all ties with his dad and telling him to hit the road.

"Dean-"

"No!" the Winchester exploded. "Dad, you don't just get to come back and apologize, and expect me to forgive you and have everything be fine. I'm pissed, Cas is pissed. Sam and Bobby are pissed for fuck sake!"

Unable to sit any longer, John pushed away from the table and stood. He tried to move closer to his son, but as soon as he took his first step, Dean dropped his arms and curled his hands into fists. John saw the slight bend in his boy's knees, the subtle way he shifter his weight forward, the less subtle way his look changed from angry to analyzing. This wasn't going to work. John couldn't talk to Dean if his son thought he was getting ready to fight. John took a step back and held his hands up, showing Dean that hadn't been his intention. He watched as his boy slowly dropped his fighting stance, switching instead back to his closed off anger.

"I know. I messed up, okay?" John's tone was as near to pleading as his voice ever got. "Right from the day I got back I didn't act the way I should have. Especially not after..."

Dean let out a noise that could only be described as a cross between a huff and a sigh.

"Look, dad... Cas isn't the first guy I've been with, okay? You need to understand that this isn't some random, out of character thing for me. I'm bi, I've know that since I was 15, so it sure as shit ain't changing. If you've got a problem with that, your stuff is already packed and in that van."

John hesitated a moment, carefully thinking over what to say. This was his only shot to try to begin to patch things up.

"Dean... You and Sam are all I've got left. Sam is on your side, and... I know the angel is more important to you than me, especially after how I acted. I don't want to lose either of you over this, I want us to be a family again."

Dean didn't let up. If John wanted him and Sam in his life, he needed to understand Castiel was part of the package.

"And Cas?"

John hesitated. He knew he needed to say this properly.

"You know, you remind me so much of Mary. Her dad didn't like me at all, but she didn't let that stop her." he paused as memories of his wife sneaking out of her house flashed before his eyes. That felt like ages ago. "You boys obviously trust him, so... If... Cas means as much to you as I think he does, I will try to get used to it. For your sake."

Dean could see how forced his dad's words were, even though the sincerity was genuine. Dean knew his father better than anyone else, and he knew his dad wasn't lying when he said he would try. Even if his acceptance was reluctant, at least it was there. The younger Winchester was still pissed about what had been said to him earlier, the names he'd been called, and how Cas' loyalty had been questioned, but he agreed with his dad on one point. Him, Sam and John. That's all they really had left. Family would always be the most important thing to Dean, and now he had been given the chance to try to make things work with his dad. John seemed to understand that they could never go back to how things had been before, that system just wouldn't work after everything that had happened in his absence. So, if the oldest Winchester was standing here, genuinely apologizing and saying he wanted to try, then Dean wanted to try too. He knew there was the chance it might not work, he knew his dad might not be able to get used to his son being with another man, but since when did the Winchesters ever give up without easily? It would take a long time for Dean to forgive his dad, and in all reality, he didn't know if things would ever be fine between them again, but at least John was taking a step in the right direction.
Dean slowly nodded, letting out a sigh as some of the tension from the past couple weeks drained out of him.

"Okay."

John looked incredibly relieved to hear his son say that. For a moment, it almost looked like he was gonna sink to the floor. This is what Mary would have wanted. All her boys under one roof, doing their best to make it work.

"Dad," Dean said after giving his father and himself a few moments to process everything. "There's something else you need to know."

John turned his eyes to his son, waiting to hear something else about him and Cas. He felt a little ashamed of his relief when he didn't see a ring on Dean's finger. For a moment he'd been ready to hear about an engagement.

"Yeah?"

Now Dean paused. He would hate for this to ruin the fragile, tentative progress he and his dad had made.

"About me being Michael's vessel... I'm not the only one."

John furrowed his brows at his son. Dean nearly smiled at the gesture he come to think of as Sam's. Even though his brother had never really gotten along with their dad, he had picked up some of his mannerisms and personality.

"You're a vessel too. The angel, Zachariah, had you brought back as a kind of plan B."

Dean watched the different emotions flicker over his dad's face. Confusion, clarity, astonishment, then questioning. Before he could say anything, Dean interrupted.

"We're all looking for a different way to stop Lucifer without the big blood battle. Ash is actually really close to figuring out how to trap him again."

John was silent for a moment as he tried to absorb all the new information being explained to him. He could stop this whole thing. If he decided to say yes to Michael, he could stop the Apocalypse and save millions of lives. But Dean and Sam had both already told him, the death toll would be in the billions. Half the planet would be roasted when the two archangel's fought. If there was a safer way to fix this, they needed to try it.

"I can't promise I won't ever say yes to Michael," he started slowly. Dean felt his heart drop into his stomach. "But," John added. "As long as we have other leads, and this doesn't get too out of hand, I won't say yes yet."

Dean sighed in relief. They really needed John on their side during this. Dean was pretty sure the progress they'd made in the Cas department would have been pretty much shattered if they'd been forced to lock John in the panic room.

"Okay. Good."

The two stood in only slightly uncomfortable silence for a few moments, processing everything that had happened in the past couple minutes. John was the first to break the silence.

"I'm gonna go unload the van."

The minute he was out the door, Bobby came in and instantly went to Dean. The younger hunter hardly noticed the tire iron clutched in the ball capped man's hand.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his tone a mix of residual anger, and genuine concern.

"I think it will be." Dean answered, already sending a mental prayer to Cas, asking him to come back. He needed to see him.

Sometime around eleven thirty that night, John was sitting on the steps of Bobby's porch, a cold beer in his hand. Despite everything, he felt more relaxed tonight than he had since he'd gotten back. Sam got back from town a couple hours ago, and John had watched from the kitchen window as Dean met his brother before he got inside. The two were out there talking for a good twenty minutes before Sam grabbed the groceries out of the back seat, and Dean helped open and close the door. Though his youngest hadn't said much to him yet, at least he wasn't glaring at him every time they were in the same room. Cas seemed cautious around him, as if he was waiting for him to snap and do something to Dean. Bobby still hadn't talked to him yet. Even if he would never admit it, on some level, John knew he deserved it, and knew it would take a while for everyone to feel comfortable around each other again.

John was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of laughter coming from the junk yard. Curious, he pulled himself off the step and snuck around the side of Bobby's house. Once he rounded the corner, he stopped short at what he saw.
Sitting on the hood of the Impala, were Dean and Castiel. Dean had his arm around the angel's should, holding the man close to him. Cas leaned against Dean, casually sipping on the beer he'd stolen from the hunter a minute before.

John watched as the angel would point to the sky every so often. His face would go serious as he said something or other about a certain star, or constellation. Dean just sat and watched him with a look of adoration on his face, smiling gently. Sometimes the two would both stop talking for a minute and just look at each other, like they'd forgotten about the rest of the world around them.

John remembered similar times with Mary, on the hood of that very car. In fact, the first time he'd told he he loved her, they'd been out in the middle of a field, watching the stars as they laid back against the window. He smiled at the old memory, and the new one he was watching now.
The hunter turned when he heard a noise beside him, and saw Bobby now standing beside him.

"You wanna tell me what's wrong with that?" the gruff old hunter asked.

John watched as Cas said something to Dean, making his son throw his head back in laughter as the angel smiled. Dean turned to look at the man beside him, and his smile turned soft.
John knew without a doubt he'd never seen his boy that happy. Dean looked so relaxed and comfortable and smitten that John couldn't help but feel happy for him. The way his boy looked at that angel, the John knew his son was in love.

"Nothing."