Part 2
Dean took a deep breath, planted a smirk on his face and opened the door to Room 121. "We're supposed to meet Caleb and Mac at Jim's."
Sam was still sitting on the bed, and his father had remained in the blue upholstered chair. There had been no further conversation between the two men. "We could leave now."
"I'm not going to sleep tonight." Dean looked at his father. He didn't want to let the man out of his sight, afraid it would all be a twisted dream.
"I'll still be here in the morning." John stated, standing up. He had nothing to pack; all of his belonging had remained with the boys. "Let's go."
"I'll check us out," Sam said as he left the room. Dean understood, his brother also needed a break to work through his emotions.
Dean packed them up; his father swept the room with his eyes, picking up the habit of old. They walked out to the car.
John placed a hand on the Impala. "How've you been old girl?" he said fondly, and with his hand tried to remove some water stains.
Dean winced. "I restored her," he said softly, wanting to show he did love the car, and had taken proper care of it. To prove he could be trusted with responsibility.
John opened up the back door. "I want to stretch out." He had gracefully handled an uncomfortable situation. Sam would remain co-pilot in the front passenger seat.
They waited for Sam, patiently. The younger Winchester sauntered to the car, happy to see the passenger seat was vacant. He needed all the normalcy he could get right now.
They pulled away from the Super 8. Dean slipped in an Eagles tape, but respectfully kept the volume low. Sam was the one to break the silence. The time spent gathering his thoughts lead to how best to encourage a confrontation.
"Dad, do you want to talk about where you've been?"
Dean elbowed his brother, silently mouthing the word, 'What!'
Sam tightened his lips, and ignored his brother.
John watched the little interplay as he decided how to answer. "Do you want me to tell you that I suffered? I think that's a given. . ."
Dean glared at his brother. He attempted to smooth over Sam's faulty inquisition. "I know we dumped some stuff on your lap. I'm sorry. We've been doing all right. It was hard after-." The older Winchester brother swallowed.
Sam shook his head, helping his brother. He wanted his father to talk to them in order to find some way to place access over the tension-filled chasm. "We met Ellen. Went to the Roadhouse." The brothers had, after all, gotten the information from their father's cell phone.
"She treat you okay?" John asked. The older hunter never thought about warning his boys about Harell's establishment. He admonished his boys for their inability to follow unsaid orders. "Wished you hadn’t gone and done that."
"Right." Sam replied flatly. He seemed unable to find the correct footing to speak to his father. He sighed in frustration, wondering why he was incapable, with the opportunity given, to speak freely to his father.
John had swung his legs onto the backseat to relax. He shifted them again, planting them on the floorboard. "You boys want to tell me what else you've been up to?" He began realizing he had missed too much, Mary had sacrificed for him and he would not be able to help at all. "Sam, you had anymore visions?"
"Yeah, I have." Sam turned so he could be in eye contact with his father. "I've been trying to get a better grip on my abilities."
"Really." John stated. Mackland and Caleb had stepped in. They always wanted his youngest to have some training, but John had thought it best to wait. Sam never would have gone to college if he knew about his abilities and would have known about the demon's plans too soon.
"Yes, I should have a long time ago." Sam said, using an accusatory tone.
"Sam-" Dean interrupted. The crux of the matter was John Winchester, their father was back. They were grateful for his return. It afforded them another opportunity to tell the man they cared for him, even loved him, but then John had caused them pain too. It was a slippery slope. Any discussions were bound to bleed out, and not be held back for too long.
Sam's thoughts had been lanced, and he was bleeding. "What? God, Dad I mean you're back and it's incredible. I missed you, and realized that you weren't the asshole I made you out to be. But, I'm mad - for what you did and didn’t do." He looked to Dean for support. His brother had called their father an ass on many recent occasions. Now, Dean seemed to be backing down, retreating into dutiful soldier.
John began reacting to his youngest son's tirade. "I'm not too thrilled that there's a war coming, the FBI following you and God knows what else - did I teach you anything?"
"A lot. You taught us a lot." Sam replied. "But there’re some things you should have told us." The darker haired hunter shifted his gaze to his brother. "And Dean you should be angry too!"
Dean lifted his right shoulder as if it was going to provide him protection from his brother's disappointment in him. "I'm not. Dad gave his life for mine, Sammy."
The blond hunter looked in the rearview mirror. John didn’t lift his gaze, but the silence was confirmation of the truth, which until now had only been a prior allegation. John had given his life and the Colt to the demon so his son could live. How do you rage against a man when you needed to beg forgiveness from him?
The Impala was plunged in silence for an hour until John extended an olive branch. "Who won the Superbowl?"
"The Colts," Sam answered.
"Peyton finally did it," the older hunter replied, trying to put those menial facts back into his broken thoughts. John continued to ask questions to catch up on the year he had missed.
" Brittany dumped K-Fed." Dean added with a smirk.
"Yeah, that and the war in Iraq are the two biggest news stories." Sam rolled his eyes.
It was a peace offering they all accepted.
Dawn was creeping up the horizon as Pastor Jim's farm came into sight. It lacked the liveliness the old minister had brought to the land by his very presence. John's truck was in the yard, oddly placed when its former owner was in the Impala instead of behind the Chevy's wheel.
"Caleb's here." Dean stated the obvious. "He took the truck after. . ." The older Winchester brother still had a problem with the pre-death, death and arisen concept. He didn’t want to mention the stage between pre-death and alive again.
"Yeah, that Jeep was looking bad, like my truck does now." John shook his head as he exited the Impala.
Sam gave a quick knock at the door, and then the threesome entered the screened in porch. Scout was waiting for them as their initial greeting party. The dog ambled over to Sam and Dean, sniffed John and waited to be patted. He followed them as they entered the main house to be greeted by Reaves, pointing a 9 millimeter at them.
"Damien, what the fuck? Put the gun down." Dean stepped in front of his father.
"Sorry about the warm greeting. I have to make sure." Caleb gestured with the gun for the brothers to move away from John. "Step away. I know it's you two. He wouldn’t expect anything else." Caleb jutted his chin towards his mentor. Dean remained in front of his father. "Step away, Deuce."
"Dean. . ." John placed a hand on his oldest son's shoulder. He let it linger for a moment. Other than the hug there hadn’t been much physical contact with his boys. John tapped Dean's shoulder, signaling he wanted the boy to stand down. John grinned at Caleb. "You always wanted to shoot me."
It took only a moment for Reaves to verify that the real John Winchester was before him. He tucked the gun away in his waistband, and embraced his mentor. "Damn, what did you do to make them spit you out?" He pounded John on the back, and sucked in the emotion he could feel brewing. He backed up, studied the lines on John's face. "Did you make some sort of Persephone deal?"
John couldn't hide his wince. His voice faltered as he answered. "Demeter had more say in her arrangement."
"Not funny, Damien." Dean growled. He hadn’t thought about his father's resurrection as being a temporary condition.
One of Caleb's eyebrows darted up. "Not much is, Kid."
"Truck looks like shit." John walked past Caleb, and headed into the kitchen. It was always the main meeting place amongst the hunters.
Reaves frowned at the two boys. "You taking it back?" he called after John's retreating back as he followed the older man.
"No, God knows what you've done in there." John smirked. He crossed his arms, feeling uncomfortable without Jim there fussing over them. He had hoped the blue and white kitchen would have the same solace. "Where's your father? Figured The Scholar would want in on this reunion."
"Mac your friend does." Ames came in through the kitchen door, dropping his leather bag at the door. He strode in a few steps, grasped John's forearm and then pulled him into an embrace. "John, you've been missed."
John didn’t reply, caught up in the unabashed emotion of the other man. He had missed them all. It was all becoming a heady feeling tempered only by the fact that his wife had made an incredible sacrifice. "Heading up the Triad's aged you."
Mackland chuckled, and pointed to the white patches of hair above his ears. "I blame your sons for this and this."
"That was there before," Dean commented with a smile. They all felt it - the warmth of their dysfunctional family being together, like old times.
The adage, 'It's five o'clock somewhere,' came into Sam's mind as Caleb opened the refrigerator and removed a six pack of beer. The freezer was stocked. The pantry had main staples. The barn had the chickens producing eggs and Jim's brew was in the pit. They were all set for awhile.
Around the kitchen table with plates emptied of bacon and eggs the hunters talked of their plans.
"You need to stay here." Mackland stated, opening the dishwasher and loading his plate inside. "The other hunters need to remain oblivious."
Caleb was onto his second beer. There was one more six pack in the refrigerator. "How about some plastic surgery?"
"Plastic surgery?" Sam laughed, looked at his father and pictured another face.
John glared at Caleb. "You don’t mess with this."
"He can come and go, locally." Mackland sat down again. "Other people can see him, just not hunters."
"They don’t come around here anymore, since Jim . . ." Caleb looked at the silver Budweiser bottle. He had found the body, prepared it, salted and burned it. He had tried to stay detached, but kept faltering throughout the whole process. Jim Murphy had been his anchor and a steadfast force for many.
Ames gave a reassuring nod to his son. "I would invite you to New York City to blend in with the crowd, but I'm being watched."
"Watched? Who?" John glanced at the others, surprised at their mundane reaction.
Sam leaned back in his chair, nursing his beer. "Other hunters planning their next attack."
"It's gotten that bad?" The oldest Winchester had always known about the factions within The Brotherhood, but never would have believed they would move against The Triad and its future.
"Yeah, Sam was set up, Caleb taken out of the picture and it looks like we got revenge. . ." Dean explained as if he was reciting a grocery list.
John felt responsible. As the Knight he should have protected Jim and Mac. The Pastor's death especially weighed on him. He gestured with his beer bottle to Reaves. "How's the Knight job working for you?"
"Full time gig with no benefits." Reaves grinned. It was strange to have to tell John about what he missed. "I gave up the day to day operations of Tri-Corp."
John blinked. There was just one bombshell after another. It was difficult to assimilate the information even with the feeling of camaraderie brought about by being with his sons, Mac and Caleb. "Wow, didn’t think my death would lead to all this."
"Don't get delusions of grandeur." Caleb smirked, and winked at Sam who shook his head at the Star Wars reference.
"We aren’t too happy to have Damien up our asses all the time." Dean punched Caleb's shoulder. "Turns up like a bad penny."
John grinned. "Could have told you that the Knight's job is dealing with all the whiners."
"Pardon me?" Mackland interrupted the conversation, feeling as if a joke was being made at his expense. Doctor Mackland Ames was not a whiner. "I know you are not talking about me or Jim, for that matter."
John shrugged in response.
Caleb cleared his throat, and brought John's silver ring from his jean pocket. "I think you should have this back." He placed it in his palm, and held it out to his mentor.
John took the ring, and studied it.
"Might want to wear it this time. It provides protection from possession." Ames suggested, showing the silver Scholar ring he wore on his right hand.
"The job's still yours, Caleb." John slipped the ring on his right hand, leaving his left hand to wear his wedding band. "I'm relegated to consulting for now."
Reaves just nodded, not really sure if he was relieved or not. He looked at his two charges. Dean and Sam Winchester did not make the Knight position easier.
Sam was talking to him, and broke his reverie. "Are you going to get Dad a new identity?"
"Yeah, yeah," Caleb scratched his stomach. How long had they been sitting in the kitchen? "I'll have Sawyer work on it."
Dean frowned. "You're going to tell him about Dad?"
Unfortunately, no one outside the five at the table would know about John for now, although Bobby would have to be considered. "No, I'll work around it. Don't worry." Caleb tried to punch Dean's shoulder, and was surprised when it was blocked.
Dean grinned and stood up. "I'm making a beer run. Think it's time we break out something special."
He went out the kitchen door and walked to the nearby barn. He pulled open the door, and smiled at the smell of hay. He went to the root cellar, or the 'Pit’ as it had been called when his father worked on cars. There was enough of Jim's brew to take them through a lot of special occasions. There was only one occasion that mattered - when the demon was finally stopped.
Dean picked up a case, lifted it on to the level ground and eased out of the cellar. He looked up as the door opened, and continued dusting himself off. "Don't trust me to bring enough back?" he stated to Caleb as he closed the root cellar doors.
"No, thinking you may drink it all to take the edge off that scene." Caleb stepped forward, and sat down on the crate so Dean would be unable to avoid a conversation.
"What? Man, did you look at him?" The younger hunter paced slightly. His father’s appearance showed the signs of what he had experienced, looking worn and tired. "And we told him about all our screwups, expecting him to fix them." Dean added to his already suffocating guilt. The brothers had burdened their father.
"Not right this minute, but give him time. . ." Caleb had confidence in John. The older man had the ability to fight adversity. They had all gotten a second chance. They would be damned if they didn’t take the opportunity and use it for their advantage.
Dean understood the psychic. There was a war coming, and they needed every available man, but this was his father. John shouldn’t have suffered. It should have been Dean. "I did this."
Caleb shook his head. Dean was only one part of a complicated equation - parents sacrificing for their children, love, revenge, conspiracies, and the supernatural as the backdrop. "Seems like everyone made choices."
"I wasn’t given a chance," Dean replied. "I just want to runaway. Forget everything, everyone. . ."
"And find yourself?" Reaves aptly finished the sentence. Caleb and Sam had been able to attend college, be exposed to another lifestyle while Dean remained locked in. "I don't think you have that luxury anymore."
The psychic saw the other man's disappointed demeanor.
"Deuce, you're the only one I know that's always known your direction, never faltered. . ." Caleb tried to bolster the younger man. Dean had been bristling over the Winchester brother's erratic state of affairs.
"There's a first time for everything." Dean didn't want to talk anymore and gestured for Caleb to move off the crate. "We better get back."
Reaves respected the younger hunter's decision to discontinue the conversation. "Yeah, your father started to look under the kitchen sink for the tequila." Caleb took one end, the younger hunter the other and they brought the beer into the house.
Night fell, a few steaks, and more beers later the men moved to the living room where the beagle, Harper Lee, lay in front of the fire place. Scout remained by Sam who sat hunched down in the overstuffed chair in a slight stupor. "So truth or dare?" The youngest hunter asked as he wiped the beads of sweat from the brown bottle.
"What?" Dean was sitting on the floor, his back against the couch.
Sam narrowed his eyes, and lifted his beer towards the other men in the room. "They're all keeping secrets."
Mackland shifted slightly in the other overstuffed chair. Caleb and John sat on opposite ends of the couch.
Reaves toed Dean's shoulder, Dean stood up, and extended a hand to Sam. "Okay little brother. . . One big conspiracy theory." Dean chuckled.
"It is!" Sam moved the glass bottle in an arc; his brother took it out of his hand. "Dean, they know stuff and not the little things like college baseball scouts checking you out, but big things. Dad too - big." Sam stretched his arms out wide.
Dean shook his head and helped his brother stand up. "He's a maudlin drunk. We're calling it a night." He pushed Sam towards the stairs.
"Not before he made an ass out of himself." Caleb called out. "Dad, guess that talk didn’t help."
"Evidently not," Mackland commented as he looked at John.
"Need something to tease him about later." Dean kept prodding his brother forward.
"Shut up." Sam mumbled.
When they got to their room on the second floor Sam sat down on the bed and allowed Dean to pull off his sneakers. More than a few beers left him as gangly as a twelve-year-old.
"John Winchester is a great man. A. Great. Man."
Dean wrinkled his nose. He hadn't watched his little brother. They were all drinking too much, talking too loudly and enjoying their time together. "What the hell did you drink tonight?"
"Not enough, man. Not enough." Sam lay back on the bed, sprawled horizontally.
Dean sat on the edge of the bed, his back to his brother. "Are we gonna have a conversation that I'm gonna hope you forget in the morning?"
"Probably." Sam sighed. "What other person on earth can even understand what I'm going through?"
Dean didn’t answer. The boys were having separate experiences. Dean was racked by guilt because his father gave his life for his. Sam's guilt stemmed from having embraced being a hunter after his father had died. John's return from the dead may have caused a reevaluation in Sam's choice of atonement.
"There's no reference point, Dude." Dean didn’t know anyone that went through this. "It's Dad. He's back. I mean our dad is back."
Sam moved to the side of the bed, no longer taking up all the room. "He came back to us, his ungrateful sons. Anyone else would still be down there celebrating." The darker haired hunter rambled. "It's been a roller coaster ride—I'm so confused."
Confusion was something Dean could understand. One moment he wanted to bask in the return of his father, the next moment he wanted to distance himself from the emotional turmoil. "Mac and Caleb are getting their chick flick moment with him."
"I know. What I'm saying is that everything just got more complicated." Sam closed his eyes; too many beers affected his thought process. "It’s a mixed blessing." He curled to his side, towards his brother.
"Sammy, we don’t get many breaks." Dean lay down; he hadn’t removed his boots so he let his feet hang over the edge of the bed. "This is a break, and I'll take it."
"He'll shoot me if I go evil." Sam opened his eyes. "Won't even flinch."
"Stop it." Dean's stomach lurched. He had forgotten the burden now was not solely his. "It's Dad. He loves you, Sam. And no one is going to shoot you. I told you. I'm gonna save you."
Sam gave his brother a tight grin. "Who's gonna save you, man." He had watched his brother falter. "I can see the guilt eating you up."
Dean shrugged. He had gone well past his endurance, but kept persevering. It had been his only solution. "Wish Pastor Jim would . . . he would fix everything." He remembered Jim's ability to temper John's narrow mindedness when it came to the hunt and life. John, Mac and Jim together had always made for better times. "The Triad used to take care of everything - like magic."
Sam closed his eyes again, too tired to continue on. "Tomorrow we should visit his grave."
"Yeah, maybe." Dean watched over his brother. Caleb had burned Jim's body then took what ashes remained and sprinkled them in the pond. Just like his mother, the grave just contained a marker. There was no spirit or body buried beneath. "You know you, me and Dad-we should give this up. Go to Mexico."
" Mexico? No longer hunters?" Sam's eyes remained closed. "What about Caleb, Mac and our other friends?"
It wasn't a well thought out plan; it was a spur of the moment decision. "We can have some sort of commune. Let Griffin have The Brotherhood."
Sam turned his head, opened his eyes and looked at his brother. "You don't mean that."
"I do." Dean focused on the cracks in the plaster ceiling. "Maybe the magic is over. Cut and run while we can. Save ourselves." It was blasphemy speaking the words under Jim's roof. He wondered if the deceased Guardian would threaten him in his dreams again.
Sam burped then closed his eyes. "Dad won't go for it. Mac won't and neither will Caleb. And you can't give this up either because there are too many people to protect."
"Take care of your own, first," he mumbled under his breath so his brother wouldn’t hear him. He twisted his ring. He had wanted the ring so much. Now when it became difficult he considered leaving like a fair-weather friend. Taking care of his own first meant taking care of The Brotherhood. He wanted a return to the glory days of The Brotherhood. He couldn’t let others tarnish the secret group. There was a standard of honor amongst most of the hunters. He was committed, married for better or worse.
Dean waited for the telltale even breathing of his brother. He went to the door and listened, hearing the murmured conversation below. He remained listening to what was being said, wondering if his father would listen to Caleb's and Mac's advice. Dean tuned out the voices. He needed to distance himself from all the things that reminded him of how ‘not in control’ he felt. He shut the door, went to the window, opened it and stepped on to the roof of the porch.
With careful footsteps, he climbed down to the ground below and made his way to the lake to seek solace.
In the living room the three men continued their vigil as the brothers went upstairs, refusing to give into sleep. Caleb stretched out his legs on the couch. "God, Johnny, I missed you." He placed the beer bottle on the carpeted floor, next to the other bottle he had finished. Laziness and his low alcohol tolerance prevented him from getting a third. "Things just weren't the same."
"Another maudlin drunk," John quipped. He patted Reaves's legs. "So, giving away your possessions? What, did you find Jesus?"
Caleb bent his knees. He wished he had a lot more faith. "More like I found a whole hell of a lot of responsibility."
"Losing you and Jim was too much." Mackland added. "I know for you it's difficult because Mary made a heartbreaking choice only a loving person could make." Ames wanted to recognize John's pain. They hadn’t spoken of it. "I am grateful." The Brotherhood was bigger than all of them, and there was a reason why there were three people in control most of the time. Mac did not want to see The Brotherhood fractured by factions. He didn’t want it all to end with him. It would have been a disservice to Jim and to John's work. "It's selfish because you are suffering." Again he reverently thanked Mary. "I am truly sorry."
Caleb nodded, not able to add anything more to his father's statements. "Me too."
John rubbed the back of his neck. When it came down to it, The Brotherhood would always lose to his wife. He wasn’t as good of a Knight as he should have been. He shouldered the blame for bringing about the issues within The Brotherhood. He should have been more steadfast. He hoped his sons would be less selfish when they came into their positions, if they came into them. "What else has happened?
"Dean knows Sam's the next Scholar," Reaves stated, losing that warm feeling that had permeated his body earlier.
"How about his role?" John asked. His boys were smart. He had agreed to let them be trained to be part of the next Triad in the belief it would provide protection for them, but now he seemed mistaken.
"No, though I think Samuel knows, as was indicated by that scene earlier." Mackland folded his hands. "Right now it’s the elephant in the room we are trying to ignore."
"Are you going to tell them? I think it might be damned time." At least with knowledge they could protect themselves.
Caleb placed his feet on the ground and sat up, at the alert to defend his father. "Says the man that never wanted them to be told."
For John it had been family first and The Brotherhood second. But over time the line had blurred and these men had become his family. "People change."
"I hope so, Johnny." Caleb bent down and picked up his bottles. "Picking up the pieces you left behind. . ."
"Pieces?" John frowned. He was the one who had been alone, his soul forgotten. His boys remained together with others standing with them.
"Dean trying to keep it all together after you burdened him with that fuckin' secret. Kill your brother if he turns evil?" Caleb wished he had gotten that other beer. He had mourned John until Dean had told him in New York City what John had said. The fond memories had become clouded by John's final act.
John recalled his words. It had seemed so long ago. "Or save him. Dean can save him."
"Well, seems as though Sam extracted another promise from Deuce when he found out." Caleb tried to remove the anger in his voice because, like Dean, he hadn't wanted to burden his mentor. But, it was impossible to refrain from releasing the months of buildup.
"I heard," John answered coldly.
Mackland interrupted what was becoming a heated exchange. "You need to talk to both of them," he said to John. "They need their father."
John looked away. This John, raised from death, did not know how to deal with his sons and their current situation. "I need Mary. We can't have what we want."
"You have to try," Mac prompted, seeing how lost his friend was.
"It isn’t like they are going to kick your ass back to hell." Reaves stood up and shifted both bottles to his left hand.
"Probably could right now." John picked at the blue shirt his son had given him to wear.
"I wouldn’t let them hear you say that." Reaves laughed and his father gave in with a chuckle of his own.
"Calling it a night, boys," John announced.
Caleb put out his hand; John accepted it and allowed the younger
hunter to pull him to his feet.