Sam wanted to tell Dean not to answer but he knew that would have a waste of time. Dean always answered their father.
"Yes sir," Sam heard from the lips of the man he'd just kissed.
A series of 'yes sirs' followed and Sam could scarcely hide his contempt for the man he'd made love to. He barely registered the rest of the conversation until he realized Dean was addressing him.
"Dad has our stuff. He's going to wait by the pier for me. I just have to find my way to the main road and hitch a ride," Dean said, not noticing Sam's irritation. "You wait here and I'll be back as soon as possible."
"I don't have much choice, do I?" Sam asked, wrapping the tarp tighter around him.
"Sam, Dad didn't mean to shoot at us, he just freaked out."
"Dad never freaks out. Did you stop to ask him why he was here in the first place or why he didn't bother to let us know he was coming?"
"After that incident in Chicago with your girlfriend, I should think that would be obvious," Dean answered sharply.
"Or just maybe," Sam said, rising to his feet, "dad knew something was about to happen and came here to stop it."
"What are you saying Sammy? Dean asked, stalking up to the taller man, " that dad knew you were going to change and deliberately tried to kill you?"
The semi-darkened room hid the tight set of Dean's jaw but not the strain in his voice.
"You know him better than anyone, you tell me."
"Sammy, I'm going to meet dad," Dean answered firmly, "and get our stuff including clothes for you. I hope you'll be here when I get back."
Dean stormed out the door fishing in his pocket for his compass. He had no idea where he was or if he and Sam were even in the same town. His one objective was to find the main road, meet his father and get back to Sam as quick as possible. He knew Sam's concerns were not unjustified, but right now they needed their father's help. If Sam didn't trust their father, that was fine, but after what they just shared together, Dean had hoped Sam would trust him. As he walked further towards what he hoped was the direction of the highway he whispered, "Please be here when I get back."
It would be daylight in a few hours. John was hoping whatever had happened to his younger son, he could get to him and keep him out of sight before sunrise. He knew he could count on Dean to follow instructions. Sam was another story. Hopefully Dean had more influence over his brother that he did. The fact that the two of them were hunting together gave him some hope. When he left Dean to pursue the thing that killed his wife alone, he offered his son no explanation. It was his way of protecting his son. He'd left his diary behind as a resource book of things he'd encountered. He hoped it would help Dean should he decide to continue to hunt. He knew the things he'd seen in the last twenty-two years were just the tip of the iceberg. He was sure Dean would encounter things far more sinister. It was a comfort when he finally called Dean and heard Sam's voice on the other end of the line. Dean was not alone.
Although it concerned him that Dean wasn't sure where he was, he had decided to wait by the pier anyway. Dean had assured him that Sam was stashed away safely but was in desperate need of clothing. John Winchester drove his car to the pier after moving Dean's car further into the woods. He only hoped they could meet up before dawn.
As he sat in his car waiting, John wondered how much he should tell Dean when he arrived. Priority was the welfare of his sons. Apologies and explanations would follow as soon as he could get them somewhere safe. John worried if that were possible. The last time they had all been together, it had been a set up. He and his boys had agreed to go their separate ways for their own safety. John wondered if being here now was such a good idea. He only hoped that it wouldn't be necessary for Sam and Dean to part ways as well.
Dean was thankful for small favors. About half an hour's walk and he heard the sound of a truck roaring down the road. He made his way toward the sound. It was early morning. Three a.m. by his watch. He managed to hitch a ride after another twenty minutes and by four in the morning he was back in Harlan, headed for the pier.
When he saw his father's car, he hesitated. All Sam's worries flooded his brain. His hand shook as he felt around for the gun he had on him earlier that evening. It horrified him that he was actually thinking about shooting his father if necessary. He wondered if Sam had any idea how far he was willing to go to protect him.
He approached the car stealthily but knew his father probably already knew he was there and was just watching and waiting. They didn't hug when they finally acknowledged each other's presence. Hugging wasn't part of their relationship. John Winchester always reserved the small amount of affection he had left for his younger son. Dean pushed down some of the bitterness that threatened to rise up inside of him and focused on the issues at hand, clothes for Sam and getting his car. He'd figure out Shane's angle in all this as soon as his Sam was secure. 'My Sammy.'
"Dean."
"Yes sir."
"Get in and I'll take you to your car. Your bags are in the back. I secured some food for the two of you and here is some cash. We don't have much time. Approximately another hour and a half until daylight."
It relieved Dean to hear his father talking this way. This was the John Winchester he knew; calm, cool and collected. Dean got in. The two spoke no words until they turned off into the thicket where John had stashed his car. John ignored the musky scent of sex emanating from his son. He knew what Sam was so he forced himself not to be surprised by what may have occurred between his two sons. Normal and acceptable had long since left his vocabulary.
"Son," John said, reaching for Dean's hand as he attempted to exit. "Thanks for trusting me."
Dean let go of the door handle and turned to face his dad.
"Why are you here?" He asked. "Did you know what was happening to Sam?"
The senior Winchester studied his son a moment before answering. "Missouri and I figured a few things out. We weren't sure what was going to happen exactly, we just knew that I needed to find you as soon as possible."
"Were you trying to kill Sam?"
Dean's straightforward questions were slightly unnerving. John had been watching his son as he approached his car back on the pier. He noticed the gesture as Dean had checked for his weapon. Missouri had been right again. Dean's function seemed to be that of protector.
"Dean, as crazy as this seems to you, from time to time, even the most experienced soldier makes mistakes. I'm only human."
John suppressed the wild laughter that nearly took him over earlier. Dean had no idea what the implications of his last words meant about he and Sam.
"Go to Sam. Help him; I'll be in touch later. We'll arrange a place to meet and I'll tell you everything I know."
Dean nodded and exited the car. He leaned back in and with the coldest eyes said to his father, "Don't follow me. We'll be in touch."
As the door slammed, John tried to control the shiver that ran down his spine. John wasn't sure he could trust his own sons but he needed to tell them everything. At this point, his own journal couldn't help him figure out how to handle what was happening to his boys.
The cold was unbearable and Sam found himself drifting off to sleep huddled in his brother's jacket and the cold tarp. Fingers stroked his cheek gently and a familiar voice whispered in his ear.
"He's going to betray you. Come with me now. I'll protect you."
Sam sat up, tossing his covering off and peeling off Dean's jacket. It was happening again. Sam doubled over in pain. 'Hurry Dean,' he prayed silently.
"Come to me," the voice demanded.
"Noooo," Sam screamed. His body convulsed in pain.
"It doesn't have to hurt. You can control it. Come to me, there's not much time. I can help."
Sam opened his eyes and saw a shadowy figure lurking in the corner. Full feathery wings rustled behind it. Sam stood shakily. The pain was decreasing.
"That's right. Don't fight it," the creature said stepping forward.
"Shane?" Sam asked cautiously.
The winged creature stepped out of the shadows and held out a hand. Sam reached tentatively for it.
Dean memorized the stretch of road he'd hitchhiked along and knew exactly where he'd left Sam. It was nearing daylight. His dad seemed to think it was important to get back to Sam before sunrise. He drove his car as far in as he could before grabbing Sam's bag and the food and started running as fast as he could towards the cabin.
"Sammy I'm...," Dean stared in disbelief.
He walked in and knelt by the discarded fabric and jacket. He dropped the bags he'd carried into the shelter and grabbed up his jacket in his arms, hugging the material tight and burying his face deep within it. He could still smell Sam's scent in the thick material.
"Sammy."