Crown of Thorns
Title - Crown of Thorns
Summary - It was a demon John wasn't expecting, a hunt that he didn't count on going down exactly how it did. All he knew is that this demon got into his mind, twisted his thoughts around into a pile so dark that he couldn't even remember his own sons. This demon who somehow managed to take away everything he held dear, to make him lash out against his oldest son. It was this demon who changed his youngest son's opinion of his father forever.
Rating - PG-13
Part of 'The Dark Horse' series
"Crown of Thorns"
"Chapter Three: Bull by the Horns"
John knew there was something wrong when he pushed Dean away from him and then swung a fist up to uppercut the boy. There was no part of John that screamed for him to stop; there was no sympathy as the kid stumbled backwards onto his ass. The kid's eyes were wide as he clenched his chin in pain. John's head pulsated as his mind registered Dean as an enemy. The kid was no longer his son, no longer his best friend - he was the reason his life spiraled downhill so quickly.
"Dad?" the kid panted heavily as desperation clung to his words. "Dad!"
"Oh, Dean," he said mockingly, "I should have killed your sorry ass when you murdered my wife."
Twisting his torso, he scrambled backwards away from his father and towards the hallway to the room where Sammy sulked. Except, he didn't even make out of the living room before a callused hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. The kid bit down hard on his lip as his eyes rolled back to try to see his father's face.
"You and Sammy just mess everything up," his voice was even as he spoke. "You two have your own special little club of eye rolls and smirks. I know all about it. I know about Sammy. I know what he did, and I know you're covering it up for him."
Sliding his hand up the kid's neck, he twisted his fingers into the dark blonde locks to pull him farther backwards. It was nearly impossible to grab hold of the hair, so he'd have to come up with something else. Sammy's hair, on the other hand, would be perfect.
"Dad, please," he begged, "please, do whatever you want with me but just don't hurt Sammy."
He threw the kid forward against the bookshelf filled with books about demons, ghosts, monsters. The volumes from the top sprinkled down onto Dean who covered his head with his arms. A book of demons fell right in front of the kid, and John then knew the truth.
"Are you working for it? You are, aren't you?"
Dean looked beyond petrified as his head jerked from side to side. Whether it was a denial or simply looking for an escape route, John didn't know nor care. In that moment, all he could think about was killing the boy in front of him and about killing his brother in the next room. Dean bled, and John wanted nothing more than to taste it.
Grabbing the kid by the front of his shirt, John dragged him up from the floor and looked at the blood pouring from his nose and the gash on his forehead. Dean gripped his father's wrists tightly and tried to pry them away from his neck.
"What's going on?" called Sam.
"Perfect."
"Dad, listen to me. This isn't you. A demon did-"
"A demon did this to me? I'm just seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, Dean-o."
Shoving the teenager back into the wall, John's hand shifted upwards to lock his fingers around his neck. Sammy came jogging into the room. He stopped dead in his tracks at the scene in front of him. His brow furrowed as he looked at the scene in confusion. Never before had Sam seen his father so much as raise a hand to his sons. Sam stood shell-shocked at the sight of his big brother pinned to the wall, bleeding and gasping for breath.
"Dad? Dean?"
Turning his head, John looked at his youngest with a smirk gracing his features. His grip on Dean's neck tightened as a new thought occurred to him. Who cared about Dean? What would he ever amount to? No, Sam was the real threat just like the demon that had possessed Bill Harvelle’s body had said
John's grip loosened on the teenager's throat. Dean slid down the wall onto the floor gasping for air. Sammy stood a moment in confusion and quickly reaching for a lamp off the end table. Before he even got a chance to hurl the lamp at his father, John snatched the kid's wrist and banged it down onto the table. The lamp shattered against the wood as he twisted Sam's wrist backwards.
"Dad? Dad, stop it! You're hurting me!"
Out of nowhere, a body slammed into him and they went flying down to the floor. He vaguely registered Sammy scream. All he could see was Dean above him battling with himself: protect Sam or John? Before he could decide, John flipped the kid onto the ground and pinned him to the floor.
"Sam, run!"
Before John knew what was happening, his fist collided with the kid's face and pounded into his gut. Unexpectedly, John felt the impact, the object shattering against his skull. He saw the black dots - watched as they overtook his vision and mind. John fell to a heap on the floor. His dark hair became sticky, clumping together. Crimson stained the cream carpet. Sammy stood above him with pieces of the vase surrounding him.
"Sammy?" Dean called out in a raspy tone as his own vision clouded. "Find the keys to the Impala."
"Wh-what happened?"
"Not now. We gotta get Dad to the hospital."
Dean propped himself up onto his elbows and took in the blurry scene around him. There were two Sams who looked down at him with a mixture of anger, confusion, fear - but above all else there was also trust. Trust was, ironically enough in the situation, the foundation of the Winchester family. The trust between Sam and Dean was stronger than ever, but the trust in John crumpled completely in Sammy's eyes because of a demon - a sick and twisted demon that put John up against the sons he loved more than anything else in the world.
"Dean?" the kid's voice cracked slightly.
"Dad's hurt badly. Let's go. I'm driving."
"You can't drive like this!"
Standing up shakily, Dean gripped the couch as though it were his lifeline. Sam rushed to his brother's side and offered support, but Dean stubbornly refused Sammy's help. He had to drive in the condition he was in, so he had better get used to walking by himself.
"Help me get Dad out to the car," Dean ordered as he tried to push back the sleep that was quickly consuming him.
"Why? So he can attack us again?"
The promise he made to his dad about keeping Sammy in the dark vibrated in his mind. It was better not to tell the kid the horrors of hunting… except the kid would believe his father was a sociopath who finally snapped. In Dean's eyes, it was a lose/lose situation.
"He's sick," Dean decided to say. "He, uh, has this… brain tumor."
"That's doesn't even make sense!" Sam screamed. "He would have told me! Stop lying, Dean!"
"He didn't tell you, because he didn't want you to worry." Dean swallowed the hard lump in his throat as he shook his head to clear his vision. "Don't worry, m'kay? I'm gonna take care of you. When we get to the hospital, you're going to say Dad is your uncle, all right? Uh, Pastor Jim, say that Pastor Jim is your dad."
Sam nodded his head to show he understood as he helped Dean drag John outside and into the Impala. They situated him in the backseat. Dean stumbled behind the wheel and twisted the key in the ignition as Sam scrambled in the passenger's side.
The road seemed endless as the lanes blurred together. The car drifted into oncoming traffic more than once. Every time a car honked, Dean thought his head was going to explode. He could hear Sam breathing heavily next to him and could see him grip the seatbelt tightly out of the corner of his eye.
It seemed like hours of near misses in a fiery car crash before they reached the hospital. Dean tumbled from the Impala and fell down onto the pavement. His hands throbbed as he heard his name being called in a wave of distortion. He saw a blotchy Sam wander into his line of vision before a swirl of majestic colors filled his head.
"I need help!" he heard Sammy yell as his cool hand touched his brother's cheek.
Everything then became black.
Dean didn’t know how much time had gone by between passing out in the parking lot of the hospital and waking up in a hospital room to the sound of the annoying constant beeping. Turning his head to the right, he made out Sam's mess of hair. His face was somewhere between his brother's side and under his arm. Reaching towards his baby brother, Dean brushed the kid's hair. They were safe.
His major headache and aching ribs were no more. He felt as though he were on cloud nine, all his troubles seemed to have gone out the backdoor. His mind contemplated the type what sort of pain medicine he could be on when Sammy stirred. The kid's face wiped against the stiff sheets as he twisted around to see his brother was now awake with hazy eyes.
"Hey, Dude, how ya been?" slurred Dean.
"Sprained wrist," he replied quietly as he showed his brother his wrapped wrist. "I told the doctors that Pastor Jim was my dad, and he's on a business trip so I stayed with my uncles."
"I'm too young to be your uncle," Dean said sleepily.
"I told them you were twenty-one, and Dad had a brain tumor. Dean, the doctors took scans and stuff of his brain and then asked me if I was lying."
"What'd you say?"
"I told them that's what I was told. They said they found some pressure on his… uh, some kind of lobe in the brain. I think they said there was an aneurism too? I don't know. They were really vague and really wouldn't tell me anything. Anyways, he's in surgery right now."
Dean reached out a hand and rested it on the kid's shoulder. He gave Sammy a soft smile as he squeezed the flesh lightly.
"That's good."
"Dean?"
"Hmmm?"
"Are you okay?"
"Mm really tired. This medicine is like… really good."
Dean briefly watched Sam nod his head as tears poured down his face. He was about to ask his brother what was wrong when he blacked out. Sam swallowed a lump in his throat as he furiously wiped the hot tears off his face with his sleeve. Everyone was lying. He didn't know who to trust. He didn't know whether his dad was really sick or if he had finally snapped.
Social workers found their way to Dean's room and asked Sam to walk with them. There was one thing that he had been taught ever since he could remember. Social workers were not on the Winchester's side. They were ignorant people who didn't understand the world of hunting supernatural beings.
Sam blocked out his father's grave words of being taken away from him and Dean to be dumped in a stranger's home. He didn't care about anything his father said to him in the past. So Sam walked into a small conference room with a nice looking man and lady, who asked him what exactly had happened. Sam battled within himself as he noticed the cop standing in the corner of the room with a notepad out and pen at the ready. Cops were another type of person that his dad always condemned stating that they just didn't understand.
"Dean said that Uncle John had a brain tumor, and it caused pressure on his brain so he lashed out."
"Dean's the young gentlemen whose room you were in?" the lady asked in a sweet tone as he nodded. "Can you tell me who Dean is?"
"My br- uncle."
"Your brother or your uncle?"
"Dean always says I'm more like a brother to him than a nephew," Sam whispered as panic rose up in his chest.
"We tried to contact your father-"
"He's out of town," Sam rushed. That's why I was staying with Uncle John and Uncle Dean. I called my dad's best friend. He's on his way to look out for me until my dad comes back."
"Okay, who's your dad's friend?"
"Caleb Lyons."
It was the first name that popped into Sam's head. Last month, they went to Lincoln, Nebraska to Caleb Lyons' shop. He was an arms dealer who supplied hunters with weapons and ammo. Caleb had always been nice to Dean and him, and he was the only person close enough that he could think of.
"Where does Mr. Lyons live?"
"Nebraska."
"All right, Sam, thank you for your time. You may sit with your uncle. If Mr. Lyons is not here by nightfall, then you will have to be taken into custody as a ward of the state. Once Mr. Lyons gets here, we can hand over temporary custody to him as long as he doesn't leave the state, all right?"
Sam nodded numbly and realized he only had a few hours for Caleb to get to South Dakota. He left the conference room in a hurry to get to a pay phone. Digging out spare change from his pocket, he punched in the number to Caleb's business. The phone seemed to ring forever before a man picked up on the other end.
"Lyons' Arms. What can I do for ya?"
"Caleb, it's Sam…" he lowered his voice as his eyes darted around the room, "Winchester."
"Sammy? Is everything all right?"
"Can you get to Sioux Falls, South Dakota in two hours?"
"Why? What's going on? Let me talk to John or Dean."
"You can't. Dad's in surgery, and Dean's so hyped up on pain meds that he doesn't even know what's going on."
"Whoa. Whoa. Wait, little fella, tell me what exactly happened."
Sam went into the shortened version of what happened. His tale made John out to be completely incapacitated mentally that Caleb had a hard time believing what he was hearing. It was only when Sam told him he'd be a ward of the state by sundown that Caleb promised he'd be on the next flight out and hung up abruptly.
For the next two hours, Sam sat in Dean's hospital room anxious and nervous. The door opened to the room, and Sam was sure he stopped breathing. Then he saw familiar dirty strawberry blonde hair, warm grey eyes, and a whisker-stubbled chin. Caleb Lyons, who was in his early thirties, walked into the room and softly closed the door.
"You okay, Sammy?" he questioned as he took a seat next to the young boy.
"I guess. Did you get me out of being a ward of the state?"
"Uh, yeah, so don't worry about that." Caleb cleared his throat. "John's out of surgery if you want to go see him."
"Yeah," Sam scoffed, "after what he did?"
"Look, I know John and I know the people he's close with. Everyone says he'd give his life for you boys."
"Then why'd he do it?"
"You said he had pressure on his brain?" He nodded. "Sammy, when something's wrong with the brain people can change. I'm sure he's better now and can explain everything."
Sam nodded and made up his mind to face his father. Standing up from the uncomfortable hospital chair, he gave Caleb a weak smile before leaving the room.
Author's Notes - Here's another chapter that finally explains what exactly happened between John and Dean. Anyways, I hope you're still enjoying this heavily ironic piece in the series. Also, props to my new beta Shannon who is just freakin' amazing. Leave a small review before you click back.
Summary - It was a demon John wasn't expecting, a hunt that he didn't count on going down exactly how it did. All he knew is that this demon got into his mind, twisted his thoughts around into a pile so dark that he couldn't even remember his own sons. This demon who somehow managed to take away everything he held dear, to make him lash out against his oldest son. It was this demon who changed his youngest son's opinion of his father forever.
Rating - PG-13
Part of 'The Dark Horse' series
"Crown of Thorns"
"Chapter Three: Bull by the Horns"
John knew there was something wrong when he pushed Dean away from him and then swung a fist up to uppercut the boy. There was no part of John that screamed for him to stop; there was no sympathy as the kid stumbled backwards onto his ass. The kid's eyes were wide as he clenched his chin in pain. John's head pulsated as his mind registered Dean as an enemy. The kid was no longer his son, no longer his best friend - he was the reason his life spiraled downhill so quickly.
"Dad?" the kid panted heavily as desperation clung to his words. "Dad!"
"Oh, Dean," he said mockingly, "I should have killed your sorry ass when you murdered my wife."
Twisting his torso, he scrambled backwards away from his father and towards the hallway to the room where Sammy sulked. Except, he didn't even make out of the living room before a callused hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. The kid bit down hard on his lip as his eyes rolled back to try to see his father's face.
"You and Sammy just mess everything up," his voice was even as he spoke. "You two have your own special little club of eye rolls and smirks. I know all about it. I know about Sammy. I know what he did, and I know you're covering it up for him."
Sliding his hand up the kid's neck, he twisted his fingers into the dark blonde locks to pull him farther backwards. It was nearly impossible to grab hold of the hair, so he'd have to come up with something else. Sammy's hair, on the other hand, would be perfect.
"Dad, please," he begged, "please, do whatever you want with me but just don't hurt Sammy."
He threw the kid forward against the bookshelf filled with books about demons, ghosts, monsters. The volumes from the top sprinkled down onto Dean who covered his head with his arms. A book of demons fell right in front of the kid, and John then knew the truth.
"Are you working for it? You are, aren't you?"
Dean looked beyond petrified as his head jerked from side to side. Whether it was a denial or simply looking for an escape route, John didn't know nor care. In that moment, all he could think about was killing the boy in front of him and about killing his brother in the next room. Dean bled, and John wanted nothing more than to taste it.
Grabbing the kid by the front of his shirt, John dragged him up from the floor and looked at the blood pouring from his nose and the gash on his forehead. Dean gripped his father's wrists tightly and tried to pry them away from his neck.
"What's going on?" called Sam.
"Perfect."
"Dad, listen to me. This isn't you. A demon did-"
"A demon did this to me? I'm just seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, Dean-o."
Shoving the teenager back into the wall, John's hand shifted upwards to lock his fingers around his neck. Sammy came jogging into the room. He stopped dead in his tracks at the scene in front of him. His brow furrowed as he looked at the scene in confusion. Never before had Sam seen his father so much as raise a hand to his sons. Sam stood shell-shocked at the sight of his big brother pinned to the wall, bleeding and gasping for breath.
"Dad? Dean?"
Turning his head, John looked at his youngest with a smirk gracing his features. His grip on Dean's neck tightened as a new thought occurred to him. Who cared about Dean? What would he ever amount to? No, Sam was the real threat just like the demon that had possessed Bill Harvelle’s body had said
John's grip loosened on the teenager's throat. Dean slid down the wall onto the floor gasping for air. Sammy stood a moment in confusion and quickly reaching for a lamp off the end table. Before he even got a chance to hurl the lamp at his father, John snatched the kid's wrist and banged it down onto the table. The lamp shattered against the wood as he twisted Sam's wrist backwards.
"Dad? Dad, stop it! You're hurting me!"
Out of nowhere, a body slammed into him and they went flying down to the floor. He vaguely registered Sammy scream. All he could see was Dean above him battling with himself: protect Sam or John? Before he could decide, John flipped the kid onto the ground and pinned him to the floor.
"Sam, run!"
Before John knew what was happening, his fist collided with the kid's face and pounded into his gut. Unexpectedly, John felt the impact, the object shattering against his skull. He saw the black dots - watched as they overtook his vision and mind. John fell to a heap on the floor. His dark hair became sticky, clumping together. Crimson stained the cream carpet. Sammy stood above him with pieces of the vase surrounding him.
"Sammy?" Dean called out in a raspy tone as his own vision clouded. "Find the keys to the Impala."
"Wh-what happened?"
"Not now. We gotta get Dad to the hospital."
Dean propped himself up onto his elbows and took in the blurry scene around him. There were two Sams who looked down at him with a mixture of anger, confusion, fear - but above all else there was also trust. Trust was, ironically enough in the situation, the foundation of the Winchester family. The trust between Sam and Dean was stronger than ever, but the trust in John crumpled completely in Sammy's eyes because of a demon - a sick and twisted demon that put John up against the sons he loved more than anything else in the world.
"Dean?" the kid's voice cracked slightly.
"Dad's hurt badly. Let's go. I'm driving."
"You can't drive like this!"
Standing up shakily, Dean gripped the couch as though it were his lifeline. Sam rushed to his brother's side and offered support, but Dean stubbornly refused Sammy's help. He had to drive in the condition he was in, so he had better get used to walking by himself.
"Help me get Dad out to the car," Dean ordered as he tried to push back the sleep that was quickly consuming him.
"Why? So he can attack us again?"
The promise he made to his dad about keeping Sammy in the dark vibrated in his mind. It was better not to tell the kid the horrors of hunting… except the kid would believe his father was a sociopath who finally snapped. In Dean's eyes, it was a lose/lose situation.
"He's sick," Dean decided to say. "He, uh, has this… brain tumor."
"That's doesn't even make sense!" Sam screamed. "He would have told me! Stop lying, Dean!"
"He didn't tell you, because he didn't want you to worry." Dean swallowed the hard lump in his throat as he shook his head to clear his vision. "Don't worry, m'kay? I'm gonna take care of you. When we get to the hospital, you're going to say Dad is your uncle, all right? Uh, Pastor Jim, say that Pastor Jim is your dad."
Sam nodded his head to show he understood as he helped Dean drag John outside and into the Impala. They situated him in the backseat. Dean stumbled behind the wheel and twisted the key in the ignition as Sam scrambled in the passenger's side.
The road seemed endless as the lanes blurred together. The car drifted into oncoming traffic more than once. Every time a car honked, Dean thought his head was going to explode. He could hear Sam breathing heavily next to him and could see him grip the seatbelt tightly out of the corner of his eye.
It seemed like hours of near misses in a fiery car crash before they reached the hospital. Dean tumbled from the Impala and fell down onto the pavement. His hands throbbed as he heard his name being called in a wave of distortion. He saw a blotchy Sam wander into his line of vision before a swirl of majestic colors filled his head.
"I need help!" he heard Sammy yell as his cool hand touched his brother's cheek.
Everything then became black.
Dean didn’t know how much time had gone by between passing out in the parking lot of the hospital and waking up in a hospital room to the sound of the annoying constant beeping. Turning his head to the right, he made out Sam's mess of hair. His face was somewhere between his brother's side and under his arm. Reaching towards his baby brother, Dean brushed the kid's hair. They were safe.
His major headache and aching ribs were no more. He felt as though he were on cloud nine, all his troubles seemed to have gone out the backdoor. His mind contemplated the type what sort of pain medicine he could be on when Sammy stirred. The kid's face wiped against the stiff sheets as he twisted around to see his brother was now awake with hazy eyes.
"Hey, Dude, how ya been?" slurred Dean.
"Sprained wrist," he replied quietly as he showed his brother his wrapped wrist. "I told the doctors that Pastor Jim was my dad, and he's on a business trip so I stayed with my uncles."
"I'm too young to be your uncle," Dean said sleepily.
"I told them you were twenty-one, and Dad had a brain tumor. Dean, the doctors took scans and stuff of his brain and then asked me if I was lying."
"What'd you say?"
"I told them that's what I was told. They said they found some pressure on his… uh, some kind of lobe in the brain. I think they said there was an aneurism too? I don't know. They were really vague and really wouldn't tell me anything. Anyways, he's in surgery right now."
Dean reached out a hand and rested it on the kid's shoulder. He gave Sammy a soft smile as he squeezed the flesh lightly.
"That's good."
"Dean?"
"Hmmm?"
"Are you okay?"
"Mm really tired. This medicine is like… really good."
Dean briefly watched Sam nod his head as tears poured down his face. He was about to ask his brother what was wrong when he blacked out. Sam swallowed a lump in his throat as he furiously wiped the hot tears off his face with his sleeve. Everyone was lying. He didn't know who to trust. He didn't know whether his dad was really sick or if he had finally snapped.
Social workers found their way to Dean's room and asked Sam to walk with them. There was one thing that he had been taught ever since he could remember. Social workers were not on the Winchester's side. They were ignorant people who didn't understand the world of hunting supernatural beings.
Sam blocked out his father's grave words of being taken away from him and Dean to be dumped in a stranger's home. He didn't care about anything his father said to him in the past. So Sam walked into a small conference room with a nice looking man and lady, who asked him what exactly had happened. Sam battled within himself as he noticed the cop standing in the corner of the room with a notepad out and pen at the ready. Cops were another type of person that his dad always condemned stating that they just didn't understand.
"Dean said that Uncle John had a brain tumor, and it caused pressure on his brain so he lashed out."
"Dean's the young gentlemen whose room you were in?" the lady asked in a sweet tone as he nodded. "Can you tell me who Dean is?"
"My br- uncle."
"Your brother or your uncle?"
"Dean always says I'm more like a brother to him than a nephew," Sam whispered as panic rose up in his chest.
"We tried to contact your father-"
"He's out of town," Sam rushed. That's why I was staying with Uncle John and Uncle Dean. I called my dad's best friend. He's on his way to look out for me until my dad comes back."
"Okay, who's your dad's friend?"
"Caleb Lyons."
It was the first name that popped into Sam's head. Last month, they went to Lincoln, Nebraska to Caleb Lyons' shop. He was an arms dealer who supplied hunters with weapons and ammo. Caleb had always been nice to Dean and him, and he was the only person close enough that he could think of.
"Where does Mr. Lyons live?"
"Nebraska."
"All right, Sam, thank you for your time. You may sit with your uncle. If Mr. Lyons is not here by nightfall, then you will have to be taken into custody as a ward of the state. Once Mr. Lyons gets here, we can hand over temporary custody to him as long as he doesn't leave the state, all right?"
Sam nodded numbly and realized he only had a few hours for Caleb to get to South Dakota. He left the conference room in a hurry to get to a pay phone. Digging out spare change from his pocket, he punched in the number to Caleb's business. The phone seemed to ring forever before a man picked up on the other end.
"Lyons' Arms. What can I do for ya?"
"Caleb, it's Sam…" he lowered his voice as his eyes darted around the room, "Winchester."
"Sammy? Is everything all right?"
"Can you get to Sioux Falls, South Dakota in two hours?"
"Why? What's going on? Let me talk to John or Dean."
"You can't. Dad's in surgery, and Dean's so hyped up on pain meds that he doesn't even know what's going on."
"Whoa. Whoa. Wait, little fella, tell me what exactly happened."
Sam went into the shortened version of what happened. His tale made John out to be completely incapacitated mentally that Caleb had a hard time believing what he was hearing. It was only when Sam told him he'd be a ward of the state by sundown that Caleb promised he'd be on the next flight out and hung up abruptly.
For the next two hours, Sam sat in Dean's hospital room anxious and nervous. The door opened to the room, and Sam was sure he stopped breathing. Then he saw familiar dirty strawberry blonde hair, warm grey eyes, and a whisker-stubbled chin. Caleb Lyons, who was in his early thirties, walked into the room and softly closed the door.
"You okay, Sammy?" he questioned as he took a seat next to the young boy.
"I guess. Did you get me out of being a ward of the state?"
"Uh, yeah, so don't worry about that." Caleb cleared his throat. "John's out of surgery if you want to go see him."
"Yeah," Sam scoffed, "after what he did?"
"Look, I know John and I know the people he's close with. Everyone says he'd give his life for you boys."
"Then why'd he do it?"
"You said he had pressure on his brain?" He nodded. "Sammy, when something's wrong with the brain people can change. I'm sure he's better now and can explain everything."
Sam nodded and made up his mind to face his father. Standing up from the uncomfortable hospital chair, he gave Caleb a weak smile before leaving the room.
Author's Notes - Here's another chapter that finally explains what exactly happened between John and Dean. Anyways, I hope you're still enjoying this heavily ironic piece in the series. Also, props to my new beta Shannon who is just freakin' amazing. Leave a small review before you click back.