Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 56: Prove It

[justinedelarge]

Title: Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 56: Prove It
Author: justinedelarge
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warning: Wincest
Word Count: 5000
Disclaimer: I don't own what I don't own. But I do own what I do own, such as my original characters.
Summary: Reggie puts together the pieces of the puzzle. John decides on his next move, and Bobby lays it on the line. Sam tries to be less of a burden on Dean, but Dean's having none of it.

From Denver, Reggie went on instinct and headed east to Dodge City, the famous frontier town of cowboy legend. The boys loved cowboys, so he thought maybe they'd seen that name on the map and gone there. He was bitterly disappointed, though, finding no indication they'd ever been there. He backtracked to Pueblo, cursing his mistake and the precious days it had cost him, and headed back up north checking out the part of the road he'd skipped due to his detour.

Christmas Day found him in a seedy little motel in Raton, feeling lost and discouraged, where he called Marcus just to hear a friendly voice.

Reggie lay on the bed after the call was over, playing back parts of the conversation in his head.

"You find those boys you were looking for?"

"Not yet."

"You hurry up and do that, now. Then you come see me. Get that lasagna dinner I promised."

When he'd wrung all the pleasure out of this promise he could for the time being, he called Bobby to touch base. Bobby was relieved to hear the boys had been spotted a few days ago, and told Reggie that Dean had called him the night before, on Christmas Eve. "I couldn't exactly make him tell me where they were, you understand. Gotta keep him wanting to call me. Trusting me. As much as he does now, at least." Bobby's voice got more gravelly. "Anyway, he said they were holed up licking their wounds. Said they were in a good place, somewhere safe."

"Yeah?"

"He said they couldn't be any safer."

The hair on the back of Reggie's neck went up. "Did he now."

He promised to keep Bobby informed of anything he found out, and hung up the phone. Couldn't be any safer. This phrase dug its teeth in, tugged at him.

He busied himself packing up his few belongings, singing a Stones cover song that was suddenly stuck in his head. "…plan to motor west…" He folded his pajamas neatly and put them in the bottom of the bag. The song stuck with him as he brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth, spitting mouthwash into the sink. "..go through St. Louie down to Missouri, Oklahoma City looks oh so purty…you'll see … Amarillo…and Gallup, New Mexico…"

He checked out of the motel, threw his bag in the car, and got in the driver's seat. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the head rest, grey hair spilling over his shoulders.

Something was right there beneath the surface. A clue. An answer, perhaps. He just sat there, allowing that something the time and quiet it needed to emerge.

Couldn't be any safer.

He tapped his fingers on his knee, the song still needling at him.

His eyelids snapped open, piercing blue eyes bright with realization. Sitting bolt upright, he grabbed the map, traced his finger down the squiggly line from Raton into Texas.

To Amarillo.

"Christ on a crutch," he murmured. Reggie had heard tell of a hunter's Sanctuary somewhere in Amarillo. But the information was hard to come by, kept as sort of a secret of the hunter elite, so that pantywaist hunters scared of their own shadow didn't camp out there and ruin it for everyone. It wasn't fair, perhaps, but there was not enough shelter of this kind to go around, and a place like the Sanctuary was rare; special. Practically sacred. He was sure that Sam and Dean hadn't been told about it. John certainly didn't know about it. Not even Bobby knew about it, or he'd have put the clues together himself.

"Smart, smart boys." He tapped the map with the tip of his finger. "But how in the hell did you find it?"

Reggie pulled a toothpick from the container in his jacket pocket and nestled it between his teeth. Then he put the car into gear and peeled out onto the road, a clear destination finally in mind.

Bobby made up the basic staple breakfast: strong black coffee, bacon and scrambled eggs. Out of habit, he made enough for four, realizing as he stared at the stack of bacon and steaming eggs that it was far too much food for just him and John, all that were in the house now. He heard sounds from upstairs as John took a shower and then thumped around his bedroom. Finally, John emerged, fully dressed. His boots thumped as he strode into the kitchen to get some coffee.

"Well, ain't you all dolled up." Bobby eyed John warily.

John put four slices of bacon onto a plate and sat down with his coffee. "Yeah. I'm heading out."

"Planning on saying where?"

"Lawrence."

Bobby cocked his head. "What…Missouri?"

John nodded, mouth full of bacon.

"Thought she told you everything she knew already. Demon was trying to get to Sam, Mary protected him, demon took her out."

"Been thinking about that." John swallowed a gulp of coffee. "Been thinking a lot about that." John practically inhaled another piece of bacon, as though he were ravenous. "At the time… I wasn't in my right mind. But even then, I wondered if she was holding something back. And now…" Another gulp of coffee. "Bobby? Now I'm sure of it." John waved his hand in the air. "With all that crap out of my system, now I can think straight. For the first time since…"

"Since Mary died." Bobby's face was serious.

"You sure don't mince words."

"It's the truth. And you know it. You were halfway inside that bottle before you even lost Mary. And when she was gone, you crawled in and stayed there."

John's eyes squinted, anger glimmering within them. "I became a damn good hunter, is what I did. The booze didn't hold me back a bit from that."

"But it sure helped make you a piss-poor father."

John shoved his chair away from the table, and stood up. "Robert." His voice made it clear Bobby was on dangerous ground.

"You're not my dad. Don't call me Robert to put the fear of god into me." Bobby stood up too, putting them on an equal level. "And if you claim you want to get your head clear now, don't try and hide from some of the shit that makes you uncomfortable to face up to."

John breathed fast and hard, hands clenched, biting back on his words.

"You said you didn't want to lose your boys. Did you mean it?"

John struggled to even out his breath.

"Did you mean it?"

John bowed his head. "Yeah. I meant it."

"Then you have to face up to everything. It's not just what you—"Bobby fumbled with the words. "—what we did to that boy. I got my own atoning to do for that. But your part of that…that's not the only part you have to make up for. Not by a long shot. And if you're gonna do this, you gotta own all of it." Bobby walked around the table and put his hand on John's shoulder. "I love you like you were my own brother. You know that. But if you want to have a chance in hell at fixing this, man up, sit down and listen."

John eyed Bobby for a long moment, weighing everything. Then he sat down, palms flat on the table.

Bobby sat opposite him. He was silent, choosing his words carefully. Then he spoke. "Sam and Dean are scared to death of you."

John's mouth flew open, words of protest about to spill out, but Bobby held up his hand.

"I said listen."

John bit his lip and listened.

"They're scared of you. Have been since Mary was killed and you changed. You stopped being their father and became…a drill sergeant."

"How do you—" John couldn't bite back the words.

"How do I know? Because they told me!" Bobby yelled. He wiped his hand across his mouth, and sat still until he regained his composure. "Dean was all of seven years old the first time he said something about it. Sat right here with me drinking his chocolate milk. Saying how you yelled at them all the time. He said you acted like a prison guard." Bobby leaned forward, looking John straight in the face. "Said you scared the hell out of him." Bobby closed his eyes at the memory of Dean, such a little boy with such an old look on his face. "Then he said, 'I miss my dad. But we don't have a dad anymore.'"

A tear welled up in John's eye and trickled down his face.

"And Sam. The sweetest little boy on the face of the earth, always looking to you for approval. For love. And all he got was 'Don't disappoint me, Sam. Why can't you do it like your big brother? Why can't you be more like Dean?'" The echo of John's voice resonated in Bobby's, so many times had he said those exact words. "And when you'd drill Dean on lore or Latin, and he'd mess up? What did you say to him? 'Damn it, boy. That was a stupid mistake. Why can't you be smarter like your brother?'"

The wrinkles on Bobby's face stood out, the anger of the memories tightening the muscles of his face. "Sam used to crawl into my lap and ask me what he'd done to make you not love him."

"Oh god," John whispered.

"You never noticed them flinch every time you walked into the room?"

John looked stricken. "Bobby, I—"

"I know. I get it. You're a good man, but you're broken. And you did the best you knew how. You had to get them ready for what's out there, both of them. And you were great at that. They're damn fine hunters. That's something you can be proud of."

John looked up in surprise, eyes wet with tears, at the kindness he had not expected to hear from Bobby.

"But that doesn't let you off the hook. You were hard and angry and barely there. You didn't even keep them properly fed half the time. You raised two fine soldiers. But you forgot they were also your little boys. They needed love from you. Not just discipline."

John listened to the truth, mouth quivering. Finally, he spoke, not able to look Bobby in the eye."All this time…this is what you thought of me. Saw in me. Why didn't you say something?"

"Because if I had, you would have socked me in the jaw and cut me out of your life, and those boys needed me. So I kept my mouth shut and took care of them as best I could, every way I could. I tried to fill in the gaps." Bobby barked out a harsh laugh. "And the sad thing? Even with everything you did, everything you didn't do, they loved you so much. So goddamn much."

John made a wounded sound and buried his head in his arms, shoulders shaking. Bobby came back around the table, knelt at John's side and slung his arm around him. "And they still do." He rubbed his shoulders. "They still do. So you still have a shot. Just…stay sober. Get a hold of your temper. Be real sweet to them. Tell them you love them. And show them. Tell them how proud you are of them. And tell them why. And when they're mad at you and scream at you—and they're going to, and they'll be within their rights to do it—you just take it. You let them. You tell them they're right, and you're sorry."

John cried it out, and Bobby kneeled at the side of his old friend and helped him do it. When John had cried himself dry, Bobby poured out his cold coffee and brought him a fresh, hot cup. "Before any of that, though, you gotta find some way to help Sam."

John took the coffee gratefully. "I will."

"So, you're gonna go make Missouri tell you what she held back all this time?"

John smiled the smile of a hunter not to be trifled with, his bloodshot eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's right."

"Good." Bobby poured himself more coffee as well, scooped out a plateful of warm scrambled eggs and set it in front of John. "Eat hearty then. She's a stubborn old hen."

John shoveled eggs into his mouth, while Bobby drank his coffee. "How are you going to get her to cough it up now?"

John let out a deep breath. "She wants something I have."

Bobby eyed him sidelong.

John burst out laughing, a welcome sound with the heaviness of the atmosphere in the room. "Oh god. Not that."

"No?"

John shook his head.

"You're sure? Because she was one feisty lady, if memory serves."

John shook his head no, vigorously.

Bobby grinned. His smile was genuine and warm. Suddenly, fresh tears appeared in John's eyes.

"I used to say thanks, when I'd come pick them up. But I never really thanked you. If it weren't for you…" John fell silent.

"It was my pleasure."

"It's not easy for me to say this—"

"Hush. You don't have to say a damn thing."

John shook his head. "Actually, I do. Isn't that on a list somewhere? Make a list of the things you fucked up, tell everyone you hurt exactly how you fucked up, say you're sorry, and make it right?"

Bobby laughed. "John Winchester's Four-Step Program." John looked confused and a bit stricken, and Bobby waved him on. "You were saying?"

"So yes, I need to say this." John swallowed hard. "I resented it. I resented you."

Bobby blew out a breath and rubbed his palms on his jeans.

"How good you were with them. How easy and happy they were with you. I was jealous." John's eyes fluttered shut. "So jealous. But the fact is…" John physically squirmed with the discomfort of it, but he forced himself to sit up, look Bobby in the eye, and speak the truth. "The fact is you were as much their dad as I was." He winced, raised a finger, and corrected himself. "More. You were a better father to them than I was."

Bobby's mouth worked, but no sound coming out. Finally, he managed to croak out four words. "Thank you for that."

"And the next time I talk to our boys, I'm going to tell them the same thing."

Bobby's mouth dropped open.

"I have a whole lot to make up for." John's voice was rough. "I don't even know if I can. But I'm going to try." John clenched his coffee cup tight, apprehension tightening his chest, as he prepared to embark upon the hardest thing he'd ever attempted to do in his entire life.

Sam finally pulled away from Dean, eyes bloodshot from crying. He sniffed. "I need to blow my nose." He excused himself and went to the bathroom, where he blew his nose and splashed cold water on his face. Drying his face on a bath towel, he stared at his reflection in the mirror, at his reddened nose and eyes. "Snot-nosed pain-in-the ass," he said softly. "Always a problem." He didn't even whose remembered words he was parroting, John, rendered harsh by the alcohol, Dean, driven to exasperation by his little brother's whining, or Sam's own inner monologue. He wiped his face off again, and went back to the living room.

Dean smiled at Sam, hoping to lighten his mood. "Hey, wanna spar? If you're up to it. It's been a while." It had been quite some time before the boys had sparred, or had done any sort of physical activity, actually. Granted, they were having enough sex for a Nevada cathouse, but as athletic as it was, it wasn't the same thing as running five miles, doing calisthenics, or practice-fighting. "Don't want to lose our edge."

Sam's smile was sad. "Maybe tomorrow. I'm… not feeling up to it right now."

Dean pulled Sam back down on the couch and wrapped his arms around him, part comforting, part playful. "It's ok, Sam. I like taking care of you."

Sam bit back the words. You've sure had enough practice doing it.

"And it's all good now, right? So much food here, I'm gonna get fat."

That brought a smile to Sam's face. "I'd like to see that."

Dean looked shocked.

Sam looked away, then back at Dean. "I'd know for sure you got enough to eat."

Dean closed his eyes, feeling keenly now how much this new knowledge was digging at Sam, hurting him. Knowing that Sam was only partially present in the room with him, the rest of him flung backward in time, revisiting countless memories from their childhood, feeling sting after sting as he relived those moments, filling in the blanks.

At least some of them. Sam could never know what Dean had been forced to resort to sometimes to keep food in their mouths and their rooms paid for.

"Ok."

Sam's head snapped back in surprise. "What?"

"If it would make you feel better to fatten me up a little, ok." Dean stretched, and settled his palm on his stomach. "Just a little. Just for a little while. And no making fun of me."

The grin on Sam's face, a dizzy sort of glee mixed with love bordering on worship, made everything worth it. Just like it always did.

"Speaking of food…I'm thinking surf and turf for dinner. Sound good?"

Sam shook the hair out of his eyes, clearing his mind. Dean could practically see him slip back into the here and now. "Yeah. Sure."

"Awesome. Ok. I'm gonna go ask Danny if he knows how to cook lobster tail. When I get back, shower. And then we kick back with a movie, maybe work up an appetite?"

Sam nodded his acquiescence. Dean grinned like a little kid to see Sam normal again, tears all gone away. He kissed him. "Love you. Be right back." He called Danny to make sure the hallway was clear, and then went to the common room to learn how to cook expensive shellfish.

As soon as the door was shut, Sam went into the bathroom and stared at the shower, like a pit full of vipers that he had to get through. He closed his eyes, thinking of all the times Dean had done for him. Taken care of him. All his life. Carried him, protected him, done for him. And how little Sam had ever done for Dean in return. And after Sam grew up, there was the kidnapping and torture, and Dean was stuck with a helpless little baby again. He'd literally carried him, dressed him, fed him. Bathed him. Because Sam couldn't even wash himself without Dean helping him.

"Time to man up." Sam swallowed hard, pushing the welling panic down, stripped off his clothes and turned the shower on. He peeled off the bandage covering the mark Dean had cut into his skin, tracing the D.W. with his fingertip, clenched his teeth and stepped into the spray.

Danny was waiting for him in the common room. "What can I do you for?"

"Lobster."

"Don't have any."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I do. That's the problem. Paul picked it out and I don't know what to do with it."

"Gonna make a nice romantic dinner for your boyfriend, huh?"

Dean flopped onto the couch with a sigh. "Yeah. Because I'm that guy."

"Yeah." Danny fixed Dean with a look that said I see through the stereotypical man bullshit. "You are."

Dean looked down quickly, then back up at Danny, his cheeks slightly pink. Danny guffawed. "Ok, what do you have, the whole thing or just the tail?"

"Two tails."

Danny went to the huge library of books and perused it, clicking his tongue against his teeth, scanning through tomes on Creole river demons, Haitian loas, and spectral apparitions in the Paris Catacombs. "Here we go. Found the bible." He pulled out a book with a white dust jacket and a bright red and blue name. "Joy of Cooking." Looking through the index, his finger tapped on an entry. "Lobster, tail, grilled."

He motioned for Dean to join him at the wide kitchen counter, and spread the book open for him. They studied the sketch on how to cut open the soft under-cover of the lobster tails, and how to slightly crack the hard upper shell so the tails would lie flat. "You can skip the marinating it in lemon juice and oil, though. Just salt it and brush it with melted butter, and put a wedge of lemon on the side. Four inches under the broiler, five minutes a side."

Juliane drifted through the room, nose in a book. "Are you boys up to purposes?"

"Gene's making a big old romantic dinner for his fella."

"I can in fact kill a man with my bare hands," Dean reminded Danny.

"So can I," Danny smirked.

Dean kept it to himself that he actually had. Because maybe Danny had too.

Juliane perked up at the mention of romantic dinner. "What are you going to make?"

Dean explained his plan of surf and turf: broiled lobster tails and filet mignon. "Steak, I can do. It's just…" Dean waved his hands helplessly over the book. "Things with shells and claws and…antennae." Juliane listened to Dean and Danny talk about what side dishes to make, if Dean should use garlic or not.

"No garlic. I was always taught no garlic on dates," Dean protested. Danny countered with "Garlic on a date is ok if both of you are eating it, but if it's just one of you, forget it."

Sam stood under the spray, head bowed, water running through his hair and dripping off his chin. Hand on the back of his skull, plunging his head into the bright orange bucket, sounds of their laughter muffled, a strange tang in the water from whatever had been stored in it before it had been repurposed as a torture device. He shuddered, throwing his head back, pressing his back flat against the tile at the end of the shower. "Standing in a shower. Tons of air. Look at all this air," Sam told himself, hands clenched tightly. "Just a damn shower." He remembered Dean's idea of the military shower, and turned the water off. He pressed his cheek to the tile and gasped for air. His fingers scrabbled for the shampoo. He lathered his hair quickly, and rather than waste precious seconds grabbing for the soap, simply used the shampoo to wash his body too, running his hands over his skin hastily. He began to shake uncontrollably.

"Almost there," he muttered, turning the water back on. The spray hit his chest, and he shuddered. Chest about to burst, lungs needing to expel the air in them, trying to hold onto it because it was the only air they had. Opening his mouth to scream as the panic flooded him, water pouring into his mouth. Thinking of Dean. Seeing Dean's face, the brilliant green of his eyes, the curve of his mouth. Heart somehow calming, knowing—not fearing, but knowing—he was going to die. Going to leave Dean behind. Then, his head pulled out of the water, allowed to violently expel the oxygen-depleted air in his lungs, to suck in one huge, desperate breath, before being plunged back into the water. He turned his back to the shower spray, arching neck, canting his head back to rinse his hair without the water touching his face. "Dean went hungry for you. You can damn well do this," he told himself, shaking his fingers through his hair frantically to get all the suds out. But the air was thick with moisture. With water. In his nose. In his mouth.

In his lungs.

Dean wrote out a few things on a piece of paper so he wouldn't forget, and then headed back to the apartment. Inside, he heard the sound of the shower running. He immediately tensed, on full alert. "Sam?" He ran lightly, efficiently, toward the bathroom, and opened the door. "Sam!"

Sam was naked, hunched over the sink, hands braced on the edge, hyperventilating. He looked up at Dean, eyes wide and panicked, his face contorting in what Dean took a second to identify as shame.

"Come here, baby." Dean quickly turned the shower off and pulled Sam, shivering and gasping, into his arms. "Come here. I got you." He flicked a towel down off the rack, and rubbed it softly over Sam's hair, his face, his chest, drying him off as best as he could while holding him up, speaking to him softly, calming him. Sam swayed, dizzy now. Dean picked up Sam in his arms like he weighed nothing. He carried him across the hall to the bedroom, and lowered him gently to the bed on his side. He lay behind Sam and reached over him, pulling the comforter over his naked body to warm him up."Feel my chest. Sam. Feel how I'm breathing." He spread the fingers of one hand wide on Sam's chest, pressing him against Dean. Sam kept hyperventilating, shaking, so panicked he couldn't concentrate to follow Dean's breathing pattern. Dean swore.

"OK, Sam, you trust me?" Sam nodded frantically. Dean reached up and pressed his finger to one nostril, sealing it closed. Sam struggled. "Sammy. You gotta trust me. Let me." His voice was soothing, warm. "You're getting too much air. Just breathe like this." Sam sucked air in through his one open nostril, exhaled, inhaled quickly again. "Slow down, baby boy." Dean nestled behind Sam more closely, pressing his body against him all the way, keeping his right nostril sealed shut. "There you go. Nice and slow." Sam slowly calmed down, breathing slowing enough that Dean put his hand back on Sam's chest. "Breathe with me. Yeah. Just like that. In and out, nice and slow." Sam's breathing finally matched up with Dean's perfectly, and they lay there for a long time, breathing in sync, until Sam was calm and still.

"Why'd you jump the gun like that, Sammy?" Dean kept his voice low, soft. Reassuring. "You know how much I love taking a shower with you."

Sam just sniffled and snuggled against Dean, staring at the far wall.

"Is this because of… the food thing?"

Sam nodded. Dean propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at Sam. Even only able to see his profile, he could read the misery on Sam's face. "I didn't mind," he whispered.

"That's not what… Dean. You always have to take care of me. You always have. And no one ever takes care of you." The anguish in Sam's voice was palpable. "And now… I can't even take a goddamn shower without you. It's…pathetic."

Dean laughed, a soft, chuffing sound. "Wanna know a secret?"

Sam craned to look back at Dean.

"Promise not to tell anyone?"

Sam turned in Dean's arms to look at him.

"I like taking care of you."

Sam rolled his eyes, formulating words of protest. Dean laid his finger on Sam's lips, ever so gently. "I honest to god like it. I don't do it because it's my job, Sammy. I do it because I want to take care of you." Dean brushed his lips over Sam's mouth. "When you let me do things for you…it, uh, makes me happy."

Sam frowned, not sure if he should even try to believe Dean.

"And someone does take care of me, Sammy. You do."

"No, I don't—" Sam began.

"You do. The way you look at me. Like I'm… like I'm the best thing you ever saw in your life. Sam. I need that." Dean exhaled. "You have no idea how bad I need that. I don't need you to wash my clothes or buy me a car or whatever you got in your head that you think you should be doing for me." Dean's voice was hoarse. "I need you to keep looking at me like that."

Sam watched Dean's face carefully. He meant it.

"That's how you take care of me, Sammy. You…love me. Like no one else ever has. No one. I need that. And you take care of me every single day. You always have." Dean brushed the hair back from Sam's forehead. "Of course…it's gotten a little more fun recently."

Sam laughed, and then choked. He coughed until his lungs were clear. "Just a little?"

"Little like the Titanic." Dean looked down at Sam like his chest was going to burst from how much love was welling up inside him. "Like the Grand Canyon. Like…whatever the biggest thing on the planet is."

"Fresh Kills landfill."

Dean stared at Sam in a mixture of admiration and horror. "Seriously?"

"It's the biggest thing on the planet. Biggest man-made thing, anyway."

"You so would know that."

"The largest natural feature is the Great Barrier Reef." Sam looked perfectly serious, like he wasn't teasing Dean at all.

"Well, ok. Being with you is fun the size of the Great Barrier Reef."

"Yeah?" When Sam smiled with all his heart, like he did in that moment, it melted jagged little things inside Dean that had been lodged there, hard and brittle, for years.

"Promise me you won't try that again?"

"What…try not to be a burden on you? No. I won't promise you that."

Dean shook his head. "Promise you won't rob me of the fucking delight it is to take a shower with you and get you all naked and wet."

Sam shivered, but not from anxiety or fear. "You like me all naked and wet?"

"More than just about anything."

Sam threw back the comforter, exposing his naked body to Dean's gaze, and brushed his hand through his wet hair. "Prove it."

And Dean did. He proved it thoroughly, and well.

Comments

[masja-17.livejournal.com]

Sammy almost took a shower himself, and really didn't need to, Dean wants to share!
Loved how the comment from Bobby told Reggie where they are! I think Sam and Dean will be happy to see him.
And finally(!) John saw straight! Acknowledging Bobby's role in their upbringing. I'm just wondering how much he will freak out if he ever finds out the truth about how deep their love goes.

I wonder what it is that John has that Missouri wants.... (Would love to see her back in Show!)

<3

Edit: You know I'm making a pdf of this, right? Just now this story is 147 200 words!! WOW!!

[sammichgirl]

Oh Reggie - of course he knew about The Sanctuary - I love that man! And so good at puzzling it all out, he's got an uncanny connection/link with the boys.

Bobby - I could kiss your face. John needed to hear every damn thing you said, even if it hurt and dug into wounds trying to heal. And John was in a place to not just hear it but listen in his heart.

John - your acknowledgement of Bobby and his being a father, that's something I really liked seeing. His admittance of jealousy, I bet that whole breakfast scene made his heart feel lighter, coming clean with an old friend and both of them letting go of so much pain between them.

Nothing is fixed yet, but it's a very good start.

I worry for what John will find out from Missouri - what he will think of Sam then. Not just about his boys being lovers, if and when he finds that out, but about Sam and the demon blood...or what's left of it (IMHO) in Sam. And wondering what Missouri wants from John?

Sammy. Oh he tried so hard, he is still so brave, and what he will do for Dean, like what Dean would do for him. These two and their love, it's heart melting.

[imaginecoolname.livejournal.com]

Another perfect chapter, hon! So good to see Reggie again, figuring it out and making his way back to the boys. Hopefully it'll be a good reunion. I also absolutely adored Bobby in this, for finally making John face the truth about how he brought up his sons. Also yay for John actually accepting it and being so determined to atone for everything and for acknowledging what an important role Bobby's always played in the boys' lives. I'm looking forward to John's encounter with Missouri as well, I always wondered why they never brought her back to the Show, she was such a great character.

My heart broke for Sam forcing himself through the shower alone, not wanting to burden Dean. And then Dean's little speech about how much he likes taking care of Sam, and how all he needs is for Sam to keep loving him! Aww, I melted into my sofa squeeing. :) And this: Sam could never know what Dean had been forced to resort to sometimes to keep food in their mouths and their rooms paid for - immediately made me think of Dean selling himself for Sammy, which is actually part of my head!canon, and I appreciate you sneaking that in. ;)

So in short: so many wonderful details as always, and I loved it and am very much looking forward to more!

[sandycub.livejournal.com]

This is such a great chapter!! Loved seeing Reggie in it and him figuring out where the boys were based on what Dean told Bobby! Reggie is so smart. Sam just breaks my heart! He is going to tear himself up over the thought of Dean starving himself so that Sam would have food to eat. Even though he always knew that Dean would take care of him to really be faced with the reality of it is rocking him to the core. Brave Sammy trying to shower by himself since he feels like a burden to Dean, he almost got through it too! He needs to understand that after what he went through what he feels, his fears are normal and it will take time. It definitely does not make him pathetic!! Dean is so sweet with Sam, trying to make him a special dinner, willing to get 'fat' for him, comforting him! The part with Bobby and John was just amazing - I would have loved to see this so much! Bobby really laying it out for John about how much of a father he wasn't to the boys, how he put them down and made them feel! To me this is canon right along with Bobby being careful through the years of what he said to John about it because he didn't want to lose the boys in his life, lose the chance to be there for him as best he could!! I love John getting sober and owning up to things, outright telling Bobby that he was as much a father to Sam and Dean as John is, if not more!! Calling them "our boys"! Cannot wait to see when Reggie catches up with them!

[dont-hate-me01.livejournal.com]

Happy that John and Bobby talked things over, we can only hope that John will stay sober, but it scares me to think what he will do when he finds out about Dean and Sam.

Felt so proud for Sam when he tried to take a shower on his own! And Dean saying he liked taking care of Sam, just makes me smile!

Wonder how Reggie will find them, will his "need" be great enough!

Wonderful chapter!

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

Angst.

There's more to say than that. Love and trust and comfort and Sam trying his damnedest to be stronger than he needs to be or any person could be, but the angst. Wow.