Bittersweet Reunion

Title: Bittersweet Reunion Part III
Author: Darkestangel
Summary: Dean recalls the first time he was claimed by his father
Author’s Website: www.darknessprevails.com
Comments: darkestangel@darknessprevails.com
Archive: Yes, to Supernatural archive, yes to others with permission
Warnings: WINCEST, coerced sex, mention of underage sex, dark themes, a manipulating John
Pairing: Dean/John
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: set in Salvation
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Warner Bros., Wonderland Sound and Vision, McG, Eric Kripke, and Robert Singer. I am only borrowing their characters for my own personal pleasure and no permanent harm will come to them.
Author’s Notes:
1. I tend to write dark stories and this one is no exception.
2. This is a missing scene from Salvation. There are exact quotes of dialogue from the episode used throughout this installment to help build the emotion and back-story of John and Dean’s sexual relationship. This scene serves as a flashback of a memory from Dean’s sixteenth birthday. This flashback occurs while Dean is out buying the fake Colt for John to give to Meg.
3. You definitely need to read Bittersweet Reunion Part I and Bittersweet Reunion Part II before reading this installment.
4. Flashbacks are in italics.
5. Thanks to Phoenix for her dates verification. I did make up the dates for John and Mary’s anniversary and Mary’s Birthday.

**************************************************************
Salvation, Iowa


“Lincoln…warehouse…Come alone,” Meg demanded before hanging up on John.

“So you think Meg is a demon,” Sam asked hesitantly.

“Either that or she’s possessed by one. Doesn’t really matter,” John replied looking at his youngest son filled with concern for Sam.

Dean stepped forward packed with anxiety, “What do we do?”

John turned his attention to Dean, “I’m going to Lincoln.”

“What,” Dean asked wildly.

“Doesn’t look like I have a lot of choice; if I don’t go, a lot of people will die, our friends will die,” John explained patiently to his sons.

“Dad, the demon is coming tonight for Monica and her family. That gun is all we got! You can’t just hand it over,” Sam fervently replied.

John looked back and forth between his sons, “Who said anything about handing it over? Besides us and a couple of vampires, no one has ever really seen the gun. No one knows what it looks like.”

Dean stared in disbelief at this father, “So what, you’re going to pickup a ringer at a Pawn Shop?”

“An antique store,” John replied calmly.

“You’re going to hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn’t notice,” Dean asked frantically.

“Look, as long as its close she shouldn’t be able to tell the difference…”

“Yeah, but for how long, what happens after she figures it out,” Dean interrupted filled with apprehension.

Unlike his eldest son, John controlled his emotions and coolly explained his plan, “I just need to buy a few hours, that’s all.”

Sam arched his eyebrows in understanding, “You mean for Dean and me.” Sam looked at his father skeptically, “You want us to stay here and kill the demon ourselves?”

“No Sam, I want to stop losing people we love,” John began. “I want you to go back to school and for Dean to have a home,” John turned his back on his sons, “I want Mary alive…” He turned back around and looked hauntingly at Dean, “I just want this over.”

******************************************************

Dean Winchester sat in his Impala staring at the fake Colt he had bought just moments earlier from an antique shop. He knew that Meg would never fall for the fake, but his father seemed to think that he would be able to fool Meg long enough for his sons to kill the demon with the real Colt. The Colt had proven to be effective against vampires, so the Winchesters could only hope that the legend of Samuel Colt and his special weapon would be effective against the demon that had killed Mary Winchester and any hopes that Dean had for a normal life.

Dean thought back on the scene in the motel room with his father and Sam. “I just want his over,” John had revealed to his sons filled with emotion. Had his father meant the battle with the demon or something more? The intense glare he received from his father during his confession had filled Dean with questions and doubts. Was his father feeling guilty over the recent sexual advances he had made towards Dean over the last couple of days and wanted to make right the situation by leaving? Was his father truly a martyr who wanted to sacrifice his life for his sons so that they could kill the demon and revenge the death of their mother? Or, had his father satisfied an itch by using Dean’s body and now wanted to leave him behind leaving Dean to pick up the pieces once again?

“I want Mary alive,” his father had admitted eyes pooling with tears. Dean felt the sadness of the loss of his mother as much as any child could, but he had not expected the spike of jealousy that he felt from his father’s declaration. After all they had been through together over the last 22 years, after the years of an intimacy that no father and son should share, John Winchester still wanted his wife alive, why, so that he could kick Dean out of his bed, so that he could finally have the real thing back and dump the replacement outside with the trash?

Dean placed the brown paper bag which housed the fake Colt into his inside jacket pocket, put the keys in the ignition, and started the Impala, “Jesus Dean, get a grip on yourself. You should be glad that he wants her instead of you. The only problem being is that she’s dead and I’m her replacement.” Without thinking, he punched angrily at the dash of the Impala, “Fucking bastard!” Dean looked at his reddened knuckle and cursed under his breath, “I fucking hate him…”

He stared out at the streets of the sleepy town of Salvation watching children and their mothers crossing the street to go to the Cineplex to watch yet another family-friendly movie. He thought back bitterly on his childhood. The only family movies he had seen were in the houses of family friends on small televisions sitting beside Sammy, both waiting anxiously for their father to return; never in a theatre, never at a family outing, because John Winchester didn’t do family things. There were no picnics, baseball games, or camping, unless they were hunting some creature that lived in the woods, and there certainly wasn’t trips to the beach or family vacations to Disney World or to the Grand Canyon. The closest times Dean had ever come to experiencing a true family outing were the numerous times they had waited “as a family” in emergency rooms waiting to be treated or waiting to hear news on the health of each other.

Childhoods were suppose to be filled with love, forgiveness, learning from example and mistakes, and getting inspiration to aspire in life, but Dean had never experienced any of those things from his father. He only received and experienced reprimands, orders, dismissals, and vengeance from his father. Before his sixteenth birthday, Dean rarely received affection from his father and if it weren’t for Sammy needing his love and help he would have ran away from home years earlier to escape the life his father seemed determined for them all to have. After his sixteenth birthday, things changed forever for Dean. His father talked to him differently, treated him with affection at times, treated him like a whore other times, but the truth be told, despite the awkwardness and shame of their sexual relationship over the last several years, he was grateful that he occasionally received tenderness and love from his father even if it was a good long fuck session. Anything was better than being ignored and scolded constantly while Sammy received everything he needed from his father.

Dean clenched his hands tightly around the steering wheel in anger, “Why are you doing this to yourself you stupid asshole? Why do you always want to blame Sammy for that bastard’s cruelness?” Dean had always known that Sam was special to John and his suspicions were confirmed earlier at the cabin in Manning. His father had informed both of them that the demon was hunting babies who were sixth months old and that Sam had survived the demons visit all of those years earlier. Sam immediately wanted to blame himself for Mary and Jessica’s death, but John insisted that it wasn’t his fault that the women were dead, and that he was special and had to live. Watching the two men together had made Dean want to vomit in disgust. All the times John had ordered him to protect Sammy and to not let him out of his sight suddenly made sense. Has father had used him to defend Sam with his own life if necessary for all these years because Dean wasn’t as important as Sammy in John’s eyes. Sam was to be protected and sheltered while Dean was to be used and abused in the process. Sam was the special child who could do no wrong, except when he left for college, and even then their father constantly kept silent watch over his youngest son’s life. Sam wasn’t the best hunter, he couldn’t follow orders for shit, he constantly argued with his father; yet his father piled heaps of affection on Sam encouraging him to become the best man possible.

Dean felt the tears falling down his face and wiped at them furiously with the sleeve of his shirt, “No wonder he treats you like a bitch…How many times has he told you that men don’t cry?” Dean hated himself when he got all analytical about his shitty life, but the events of the last couple of days was hitting him hard. He couldn’t stop the bitterness which was spreading into his every thought and action. His father’s return and subsequent treatment had uncovered the depression and resentment that Dean tried to keep hidden from everyone; including Sam, but he felt his façade of toughness slipping with each passing hour. He knew that it wasn’t Sam’s fault that he was treated special while Dean had been treated like an employee of the family only there to serve a certain purpose. Dean was the child who could never do anything right, the child who became a better fighter and hunter than any father could ever wish for, a child who always followed orders without question; yet his father only piled more responsibilities on his shoulders, while keeping Dean close and dependent upon him so that Dean would only be able to become the best man John Winchester allowed him to become.

By the time Dean was sixteen, the man that Dean had become was a friend, brother, and mother to Sam; listening to Sam’s problems, protecting Sam from the dangers of the world, and taking care of Sam’s every need by cooking, cleaning, and nurturing Sam when they were growing up. Dean had also became the dutiful, obedient son and wife to his father; obeying all commands and orders without argument and taking care of his father’s needs by taking care of Sam and the so-called homes they lived in, but on his sixteenth birthday Dean became his father’s lover and nothing had ever been the same since that faithful night.

****************************************

Tuesday, January 24th, 1995
Oklahoma City 5:30 P.M.

Dean stared down at the present in Sam’s hands and smiled, “Sammy, you didn’t have to get me anything. I know you don’t have the money.”

“Dude, it’s your sixteenth birthday and I wanted to get you something, so stop making a big deal out of it and open it up.”

Dean excitingly opened the gift from his eleven-year old brother. A smile spread across Dean’s face when he saw what was inside, “Yes, Die Hard Two! Sammy, this is perfect. You know that this is like one of my all-time favorites.”

Sammy smiled ear-to-ear, “Can we watch it tonight?”

“You got it dude, but first you have to get your homework done,” Dean replied while taking the cellophane off the video box. “Dad should be home soon. Maybe he’ll want to watch it too,” he added full of hope before walking into the tiny kitchen which was connected to the eating area.

Sam unzipped his book bag and sat down at the kitchen table, “Is he working at the shop today or is he really working?” Sam opened up his Social Studies textbook and began filling in a blank map of Western Europe, “He mentioned to me yesterday that he was following some leads up in Tulsa.”

Dean began breaking up the spaghetti noodles into the boiling water, “What sort of leads?”

Sam erased his misspelling of Stockholm frowning in frustration, “Some sort of dog that supposedly disappears into thin air. I don’t know what the hell he was talking about.”

Dean stirred the noodles into the water and added salt, “Heck Sam, not hell.”

Sam looked up from his homework, “Huh?”

Dean looked at his younger brother smirking, “You said hell and you know you’re too young to be talking like that.”

Sam rolled his eyes and smiled, “Oh please…sometimes all you say is four-letter words, so why can’t I cuss?”

Dean lifted the cover on the meat sauce and shrugged his shoulders, “Whatever dude, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when Dad up and pops you in the mouth for cussing.”

It was Sam’s sixth grade year in school, and he was having a hard time understanding the concept of Social Studies and Science, since they were rarely taught in Elementary School and it didn’t help that Sam had attended nine different schools before he turned twelve; including three his fifth-grade year alone, while Dean had attended twelve schools before he turned sixteen. John Winchester had moved his family to Oklahoma City determined that his youngest son’s first year in Middle School would be successful. They had settled down to a familiar pattern of school and practicing for the hunt during the week, and the weekends for Dean and John were spent hunting while Sam sat in the Impala and watched.

Dean had appreciated the feeling of having a home over the last few months and the small house that their father rented was modest but comfortable. Dean took care of the housework; including cooking and cleaning, while Sam reluctantly began to learn how to operate a lawn mower and took out the trash. Meanwhile, John worked as a mechanic ten miles down the road, and he made enough money to support the hunting operation by playing poker in the back rooms of run-down biker bars.

Dean took plates from the cabinet and began setting the table for three noting the look of confusion on Sam’s face, “What’s the matter?”

Sam scratched his head in confusion, “Why do I have to do a Western and Eastern European map when they are one continent? I think that Mr. Hansard just wants to confuse us.”

Dean laughed softly and recalled to mind what he had learned about Europe from his own schooling experience, “Europe was split into Eastern and Western Europe once the Iron Curtain and the Berlin Wall were put into place; thus they have different cultures, so many people treat them as separate regions even though they are one continent.”

“Iron Curtain, there’s a piece of iron running down Europe,” Sam asked even more confused.

“Metaphorically speaking, there was an invisible boundary between the two regions because of their different ideologies on government,” Dean smartly replied going back into the small kitchen to check on the noodles.

“Meta what,” Sam asked in frustration.

Dean sighed, “Never mind, you’ll learn about it when Mr. Hansard teaches you about the history of Europe.”

“You need to be in those smart classes in school Dean, but you’re barely passing, why is that,” Sam asked continuing to label his map of Western Europe.

Sam was right, Dean barely passed every year because he missed too much time healing from injuries and moving around so much had made it hard for him to be placed into more challenging classes, and instead he found himself bored in school and refused to do simple assignments that didn’t challenge his intellect. “I’m just lazy dude. I’d rather be hunting or chasing girls than doing that boring school crap, but you seem to really like school so I want you to keep working hard at it.”

Sam knew Dean was smarter than he let on but he allowed his brother to pretend otherwise, “So, what do you think Dad got you for your special birthday.” Sam didn’t miss the frown that shattered the happiness on Dean’s face, “Dean, you know he got you something, it’s your sixteenth birthday, and he got you something last year, remember?”

“Yeah…because the ten inch bowie hunting knife was exactly what I wanted,” Dean sarcastically replied wishing that just once he could get a regular birthday or Christmas gift like a CD player or a Nintendo Game Boy.

“Pastor Jim says we should be grateful for all gifts received even if we wanted something else,” Sam reminded his older brother.

Dean placed napkins and silverware onto the kitchen table, “I am grateful you little shit.”

“Crap Dean, not shit,” Sam laughed.

Dean smacked Sam softly on the back of the head and looked down at Sam’s map of Europe, “You spelled Mediterranean wrong Mr. Brainiac, and last time I checked, Madrid was in Spain not France.”

“It looks the same to me man,” Sam grinned erasing his mistakes.

“How can you read Latin and understand all that mumbo jumbo and yet you can’t read a map of Europe,” Dean asked draining the noodles into a colander.

“Because I need to know Latin for demon possessions and stuff, but I’ll never need to know the capital of Sweden or where the Alps are located,” Sam replied disgusted with his homework.

Dean poured the drained noodles into the sauce and began stirring, “You never know, maybe one day we’ll go on a European hunting trip and you’ll need to know that stuff.” Dean brought the spaghetti over to the table, “I bet there are lots of evil bitches over there in those castles and manors.”

“Britches Dean not bitches,” Sam smiled grabbing his fork off the table.

“You’re such a loser,” Dean teased grabbing his own fork.

The two brothers ate for a few moments in comfortable silence, but Sam noted that with every other bite or so, Dean would look expectantly at the kitchen door. “Don’t worry, he’ll be here soon, and we can all sit down together and watch your new movie.”

Dean nodded his head and softly smiled, “Sure that would be great…”

…Six Hours Later…

It was nearly Midnight on a school night and Dean had sent Sam to bed two hours earlier after they had finished watching Bruce Willis saving Washington D.C. in Die Hard Two. Their father had not come home yet and he had not called them to let them know that he was going to be late. Dean sat nervously on the couch worrying that something had happened to his father. John wasn’t the best father in the world, but he sheltered and fed them and Dean didn’t want the additional responsibility of earning a living added to his already full plate.

Dean also knew that this time of the year was always difficult for his father because it represented some of the happiest times in his life; yet each year, the special dates reminded him of what he lost with the death of Mary. John and Mary Winchester were married on January 17th of 1977, had given birth to Dean on January 24th of 1979, and celebrated Mary’s birthday every January 19th, never realizing that there would be no more birthdays for Mary after November 2, 1983. Dean knew that John struggled to get through the months of November and January each and every year due to Mary’s death, birthday and wedding anniversary being so close together, and the fact that his eldest son’s birthday was within the same time period was at times a painful reminder that he no longer had a wife to take care of his children or to hold him in bed at night.

When John strolled into the house slightly drunk and depressed, Dean wasn’t at all surprised and he wished instantly that he had already went to bed so that he could have avoided his father’s drunkenness, but he had been worried about his father’s safety.

“Where have you been,” Dean asked his father who was practically staggering across the living room.

John Winchester didn’t appreciate his son’s tone of voice and he stared wildly at Dean, “Working.”

Dean sighed in disgust, “You could have called. We were worried, and what kind of work were you doing.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that you were my wife,” John hotly replied prying off his jacket and tossing it onto the recliner.

“You treat me like one at times,” Dean mumbled.

“What did you say,” John asked angrily. He was quickly losing his alcohol buzz thanks to his annoying son, “You think I treat you like my wife?”

Dean stood up from the couch, “Just forget I said anything.”

John shoved Dean back onto the couch, “No…you started it, let’s finish it.”

“I cook and clean for you,” Dean began. “I take care of Sammy for you, protect him, and keep him out of trouble, and you boss me around not letting me speak my mind.”

“And I put food on that fucking table and keep a roof above your head you ungrateful brat,” John yelled.

“Hush, you’ll wake Sammy,” Dean warned.

John nodded in understanding and took a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to calm down, “I don’t need my own son telling me what I can and can’t do.”

“I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just asking for some common courtesy when you know that you’re going to be late,” Dean explained. “You nearly bit my head off last year when I got home after ten on a school night because I hadn’t called.”

“That was different Dean,” John began sitting down on the couch next to his son. “You’re my son and I was worried that some monster had killed you or worse yet some pervert sodomized you and threw you into a ditch to die.”

Dean swallowed hard in surprise, “You would think some guy would do that to me?”

John ran his hand across his face and held it over his mouth for a few seconds in thought, “I don’t know what scares me more, the fact that you are too naive to know men would do that to you, or the fact that my fifteen-year old son knows what sodomized means.”

“Sixteen,” Dean mumbled softly.

“What,” John asked.

“Sixteen, I turned sixteen today,” Dean replied looking at the television which was currently showing a repeat of Beverly Hills 90210.

John burped loudly, “Shit, it totally slipped my mind; I’ll pick you up something tomorrow.”

Dean again stood up from the couch shaking his head in disgust, “Don’t bother. I know you only get me something to make Sam think that you care about me, but we both know the truth don’t we?”

“Are you fucking PMSing or something,” John asked hysterically standing up. “Who the fuck has put these crazy thoughts into your head?”

“You have!”

“What the fuck are you talking about,” John asked grabbing one of Dean’s arms roughly and dragging him towards the front door, “We’re both going to wake Sammy up, so let us take this outside.”

“No,” Dean exclaimed digging his bare feet into the carpet. “I want to go to bed.”

“You don’t drop this bomb shell on me than expect to not talk about it,” John insisted pulling his wavering son out the door, down the small porch, and out into the yard away from Sammy’s bedroom window. He pushed Dean towards his car, “Now you tell me where you got this crazy idea that I don’t care about you.”

Dean laughed hysterically, “Where should I begin?”

John’s head hurt from too much Booze and Dean’s uncontrolled laughter was pushing the limits of his patience, “Son, please stop laughing and talk to me.”

Dean stood silently running his fingers over the smooth black finish of his father’s 67 Impala wishing that his father gave him as much attention as he did his car. “When’s the last time you told me you loved me?”

John snorted, “Are you serious?”

“When’s the last time you told me you were proud of me, or told me thanks for doing stuff for you,” Dean continued. “When’s the last time you asked me what I wanted to do with my life or with my schooling?”

“Dean you’re fifteen…I mean sixteen years old, you don’t know what the hell you want to do with your life!”

Dean turned to look at his father and straightened in determination, “I know I don’t want this life with you, hunting this demon for revenge.”

John’s feelings were hurt and he struck out with angry words, “What does a “D” student like you want for his life, you want to be a garbage man, a burger flipper,” John began.

“There’s nothing wrong with those things if that’s what I want to do with my life,” Dean interrupted.

“You honestly think you can make a living and be happy flipping burgers,” John asked stepping closer to Dean.

Dean backed up against the trunk of the Impala, “It would be better than staying here with someone who loathes me because I remind them of their dead wife.”

John rushed towards Dean with clenched fist. “Shut the hell up Dean or I will…”

“You’ll what,” Dean interrupted. “You’ll hit me and add physical abuse to the emotional abuse you already give me?”

“I do not abuse you Dean! You have been watching too many nighttime dramas if you think that I am an abusive father,” John hotly defended.

Dean felt the cool metal of the Impala’s trunk against his back but he refused to back down from his father’s anger, “You are a lousy father who only shows love to one son while he treats the other one like shit, and you know that I’m right John.”

“Don’t call me that,” John warned. “I am your father and I demand that you give me the respect I deserve.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing my entire life but it has never been good enough for you,” Dean said with unshed puddles of water in his eyes. “Why can’t you love me like you love Sammy?”

John felt his own chin tremble, “Dean…I do love you son, I just…can’t…”

Dean felt the tears slipping out of his eyes but he refused to wipe them away in an attempt to hide them from his father, “You can’t what?”

John placed his hands on the Impala’s truck trapping Dean’s hips within the small space, “I can’t love you like Sammy…”

“Why not,” Dean begged.

John looked down at his son’s face, which was illuminated by the half-moon, wishing that it was a full-moon so he wouldn’t have to be at the house fighting with Dean and instead would be out hunting for Werewolves and such. He noticed the soft freckles on his son’s cheek, which had gotten lighter over the years, but still bitterly reminded him of Mary’s freckled complexion. “I can’t love you like Sammy because I want more than that from you.”

Dean looked up at his father in confusion, “What do you mean?”

John looked at his son’s long lashes, pouting lips, and perfect cheekbones and cringed at the desires running through his mind, “Dean, I push you away because I don’t want you to get close to me.”

“I don’t understand. Why would you want to push me away,” Dean innocently asked.

“Dean, I’m a man and I miss your mother very much…and I sometimes think about things I shouldn’t think about with you,” John attempted to explain. Dean looked perplexed so John continued on with his poor explanation, “When I feel certain urges towards you, like you know…needing you to be a true wife for me…I push you away with hateful words, do you understand?”

Dean’s brows arched in understanding, “You want to sodomize me like the perverts you talk about?”

“Sodomize is such an ugly word Dean. I just want to be near you, hold you, love you the way I did your mother,” John replied filled with self-disgust.

“Like in a bed or something,” Dean asked nervously.

John risked removing one of his hands from the trunk of the Impala and ran his hand tenderly down the side of Dean’s face, “I want to show you how much I love you, but it’s not right for us to be together in that way.”

“Would it make you happy to touch me like her,” Dean asked enjoying the affection he was receiving from his father.

“I don’t know Dean, it might make me feel worse for taking something from you that I have no right to take,” John remarked running his hand down Dean’s neck. “It’s just that you remind me of her so much and I miss her.”

Desperate for attention and love Dean took the plunge, “I want you to love me like that.”

John smiled sweetly, “You don’t have to do that for me Dean.”

“It’s for me too,” Dean whispered as his father’s mouth moved closer to his own mouth.

“Alright, but just this once and if you don’t like it, I’ll never do it again,” John promised as he kissed Dean lightly. John’s tongue probed gently into Dean’s mouth enjoying the warmth and taste of Dean’s mouth. John pressed his body into Dean’s body and wrapped his arms around his son trying to block out the fact that he was kissing his son.

Dean pulled away from the kiss to catch his breath, “Could we go a little slower?”

“I thought you were experienced with this type of thing,” John teased.

“Dad, I’ve never kissed a man before, and I’m not that experienced with girls yet,” Dean bashfully smiled.

“Have you had intercourse with a girl yet,” John asked running his hands down Dean’s sides to rest on his slim hips.

“Not really,” Dean began. “I got the very tip in this one girl, but she chickened out and made me stop.”

“What a cock tease,” John laughed. “So you’re a virgin?”

Dean looked past his father not wanting to look him in the eyes, “Are you ashamed of me?”

“No baby,” John kissed Dean again. “I’m very happy that I’ll be your first sexual experience.”

Dean put his hands on his father’s chest and held him away, “This is fucked up on several levels. You know that, right?”

John dropped his hands from Dean’s hips and stepped back, “Fine, we’ll pretend this never happened. Just warn me before you leave us so that I can break it to Sammy.”

Dean grabbed for his father unwilling to go back to the cold hostility that he was accustomed to, “Dad, please wait. I don’t want to leave you and Sammy.”

“That’s what you said you wanted Dean .Why don’t you fucking make up your mind? If you tell me to fuck off and not touch you again I won’t, but don’t fucking tease me, it’s cruel,” John pleaded.

“I’m scared,” Dean whispered.

John walked back over towards Dean, “Of what baby?”

“Scared that you’ll hate me more if I’m not as good as she was in bed,” Dean shamefully admitted.

John was stunned, “Dean, how you could think something like that? You’re not a replacement for her. You remind me of her with your freckles and hair and soft features, but trust me; I know that you’re not her. How fucked up do you think I am?”

“From where I’m standing, we’re both pretty fucked up, but I’m willing to try this if you want to,” Dean admitted.

John nodded in approval, “Then lots stop talking about it and do it.” He reached for Dean’s hand and pulled him towards the house, “On second thought, you might be loud and I don’t want Sam to hear us together.”

“I can be quiet,” Dean argued.

“You don’t know what you can do yet,” John grinned. “I hate this but I think that we should do it in the Impala so Sammy can’t hear us.”

Dean looked at the backseat of the Impala dumbfounded, “You want my first time to be in the backseat of a muscle car?”

“Where was your almost first time with that girl,” John asked knowingly.

Dean pretended to look at his nails embarrassed to admit the truth, “It was umm…in the back of her Mustang.”

“Need I say anything else on the subject,” John laughed pulling Dean towards the Impala. John opened the back door and led Dean down on his back onto the leather seat. John looked into his son’s terrified eyes and felt a stab of guilt running through his soul because he knew that he was taking advantage of his son’s desperation for affection. Affection that should have been giving willingly without sex, but John was tired of being alone in his bed. He prayed a silent prayer for forgiveness from Mary as he unzipped Dean’s jeans and began pulling them and his boxers down his legs. “Take your T-shirt off for me Dean.”

As Dean did as was instructed, John reached around to the front of the car and opened the glove compartment where he kept a container of Vaseline for dry lips and skin. He didn’t have a condom and didn’t feel that he needed it with his virginal son. He looked back down at his naked son and smiled eagerly, “Damn, you’re fucking beautiful.”

Dean felt the blush crawling up his skin, “Kiss me.”

John got on top of Dean’s body, careful not to crush him, and kissed Dean tenderly wanting the boy to enjoy his first time so that there would be more times to come. He savored the flavor of Dean’s mouth as one of his hands snaked itself down Dean’s chest, caressing and teasing sensitive nipples, stroking and teasing Dean’s young hard prick, and pulling the sexiest moans and whimpers out of Dean’s pretty little mouth.

John sat up straddling Dean’s thighs, “I wish I could take my time with you baby, but Sammy could come looking for you, so I’m going go ahead and prep you, okay,” John asked taking the top of the Vaseline off. “I promise you that the next time will be in my bed if you want a next time.”

Dean felt the cool leather on his back, thighs, and ass and licked his lips in anticipation, “I probably want last longer than a minute anyway.” Dean pinched and twisted his own nipples as his father greased up his right hand with Vaseline, “I’m might explode before you even get inside me.”

John eyes burned with lust as he took in Dean’s eagerness, “That’s okay baby. I won’t last long tonight either.” John slid off of Dean’s body, knelt down outside the car, and pulled Dean’s ass to the edge of the backseat to get a better angle at Dean’s hole. Thankful that he parked on grass, John rested on his knees on the ground, and looked at his son’s virgin entrance and licked his lips. “You’re perfect Dean…so fucking hot.”

Dean smiled at the nicest thing his father had said to him in years. He could definitely get used to hearing affectionate complimentary things coming out of John Winchester’s mouth rather than harsh demanding comments he was used to hearing from his father. “Touch me,” Dean begged beautifully.

John took in a shaky breath and placed his greased up fingers at Dean’s entrance, “I’m going to put one finger in you first to get you use to being filled.” John placed his index finger at Dean’s puckered hole and circled it teasingly. He was encouraged when he felt Dean shiver in pleasure. John gently pressed his finger inside Dean’s tight channel closing his eyes in amazement at the intense heat he felt within his son’s body. “How does that feel?”

Dean felt an awkwardness that he instinctively wanted to push out of his body, “It feels strange.”

“Just relax and don’t push,” John ordered curving his finger so that he could hit the bundle of nerves inside Dean’s body that he was sure would drive his son crazy in pleasure.

“Oh God,” Dean giggled. “Do that again.”

John laughed playfully at his son’s reaction and touched Dean’s sweet spot again, “You like that?”

Dean clenched his fingers into the Impala’s leather, “Yeah…but I want more.”

“Greedy little boy aren’t you, “John rhetorically asked as he added another finger into Dean’s willing body. John feverishly prepped Dean’s body feeling his own cock ache in need and threatening to release its pleasure just from Dean’s wanton moans and whimpers. John wiped the sweat from his upper lip and pressed his palm up against his jean-clad cock to stop himself from shooting cum into his pants. “Jesus, you’d think I was sixteen too,” he whispered.

“Are you okay,” Dean asked.

“Yeah, you’re just making me come undone here,” John admitted while twisting and scissoring his fingers inside Dean’s heat.

“Then make me come undone too,” Dean teased.

John shook his head in astonishment. “You’ve been watching too much of those damn nighttime dramas,” John remarked while unzipping his pants to release his throbbing cock.

“No I haven’t. I watch too much porn,” Dean chuckled.

“Porn, where the hell are you seeing porn,” John asked pushing his jeans off his hips.

“Duh…cable,” Dean grinned widely lighting up the car with his bright flawless smile.

“That’s why I didn’t want us to get cable,” John joked as he pushed Dean further back inside the car and placed one of Dean’s leg on the back of the front driver’s seat and the other leg on top of the backseat near the rear window.

“But I wouldn’t get to watch The Larry Sanders Show,” Dean pouted.

“You are so bad,” John laughed placing one of his knees in the floorboard and the other one on the edge of the backseat. His head was pressed up against the top of the car, an uncomfortable position for sure, but getting inside of Dean was well worth the discomfort. “Are you ready for me?”

Dean sucked on his bottom lip, took a deep breath, and nodded enthusiastically as his father began pressing his thick long cock inside his body. Dean felt an intense pinching and burning as his father pressed into his body, “It hurts.”

“Breathe Dean. Relax. Let me in,” John responded tenderly as he bent down to place a kiss on Dean’s mouth. Dean swallowed John’s tongue eager to find something to keep his mind off the discomfort of his father’s claiming. John carefully rocked inside Dean’s body feeling the ring of muscle slowly giving in allowing his cock to slip further into Dean’s tight body. “That’s it baby, open up for me,” John encouraged as Dean’s sphincter relaxed and allowed him entrance into Dean’s warmth.

“Oh God,” Dean hissed as he was impaled on his father’s hard prick. He felt the burn of penetration slowly turning to intense pleasure as his father angled his cock and hit that sensitive spot hidden deep inside his body. He sucked on his father’s tongue and lips as he was filled to capacity with contentment; not only physical bliss but emotional bliss as well. Dean ran his hands and fingers frantically up and down John’s back encouraging his father to go faster and harder.

“I not going to last long Dean… too fucking tight, so fucking hot,” John moaned. John grabbed Dean’s cock and stroked it to completeness. Dean arched his back as his warm milky release spurted into his father’s fist and onto his flat hairless stomach. “That’s it baby…going to fill you with my cum,” John roared as he erupted inside Dean’s velvety heat.

Both men struggled to catch their breath, “Please tell me we’re going to do that again,” Dean purred as he closed his eyes in total gratification.

“Most definitely,” John enthusiastically replied. John slowly pulled out of Dean’s body and kissed Dean softly on the mouth. “Happy Birthday Dean,” he whispered into Dean’s ear stroking his soft face with his lips.

********************************************

As far as Dean was concerned, things were perfect that night but they weren’t always so tender and loving. “Just this once and if you don’t like it, I’ll never do it again,” John promised. “Yeah right,” Dean remarked as he slowly pulled out of the parking place out onto the streets of Salvation, Iowa. His father had not kept his promise and took from Dean’s body whenever he pleased after that night, but Dean accepted any love he could get from his father even if it was at times cruel and he felt dirty afterwards. When his father had abandoned him over a year ago in New Orleans with nothing but a journal and a measly fifty bucks, he promised himself that he would never let his father use his body again, but he already felt himself falling back into the old pattern of submission and he knew that it wouldn’t be long before he fell back eagerly and willingly into his father’s bed.

Dean drove up behind the truck watching his father and brother messing with the weapons hidden in the bed of the truck and got out of the Impala. “Did you get it,” John asked as Dean approached.

Dean took the brown paper bag out of his jacket and handed it over to his father, “You know this is a trap don’t you? That’s why Meg wants you come alone.”

John took the fake Colt out of the bag pleased with Dean’s purchase, “I can handle her. I have a whole arsenal loaded for her.”

Dean looked at his father with tears threatening to fall. “Dad,” he asked softly.

“What,” John asked quietly.

“Promise me something,” Dean begged.

John attempted to swallow down the emotions he felt threatening to escape, “What’s that?”

Dean licked his lips nervously, “If this thing goes south, just get the hell out. Don’t get yourself killed. You’re no good to us dead.”

John smiled softly, “Same goes for you.” He fought back the tears he felt burning in his eyes, “Listen to me. They made the bullets special for this Colt, only four of them left. Without them, the gun is useless. You make every shot count.”

Sam watched the exchange between his brother and father oblivious to the real emotional conflict underneath the surface. “Yes Sir.”

John looked back and forth between his sons resting his hand on Sam’s shoulder, “Been waiting a long time for this fight, now it’s here, and I’m not going to be a part of it. It’s up to you two boys now. It’s your fight. You finish it.” John looked directly at Dean. “You finish what I started. You understand,” he asked handing Dean the real Colt.

Awkward silence followed, things needed to be said but instead they were kept in the silence of their hearts. “Yes Sir,” Sam finally reassured his father.

John waited for Dean to verbalize his understanding but he knew that Dean understood the importance of the Colt, so he gave one last smile towards Dean and walked towards the front of the truck.

Dean stared as his father got into his truck to head off to certain death against Meg. Part of him wished that his father would stay and kill the demon, while the other part of him wanted his father to go to Lincoln alone and get himself killed, or at least disappear for a really long time. Dean felt guilty for wishing harm to his father because he did love his father despite all of the abuse because he knew that John Winchester used to be a great man; a man who loved his wife and his two sons, a man who had been changed overnight into a strict militant with misplaced anger thanks to a fucking demon. Dean had no doubts that if the demon had never came into their lives his father would have been your typical American father who took his sons to baseball games, talked to them about the birds and the bees, and took them on manly camping trips to learn how to fish and to cook bacon by a tent; not to hunt supernatural beasts with rock salt, bowie knives, and crossbows.

Ultimately, Dean decided that he wanted to see his father again even it was on his father’s terms, so he watched his father’s truck leaving down the dirt path with a trail of dust in its wake and hoped that John Winchester would survive Meg and her plans and find himself back home to his boys. “Later,” Dean whispered wishing that his father knew exactly how much he wanted him to survive even it meant Dean had to break a promise he had made to himself just a year earlier. After all, wasn’t his father’s special brand of affection better than none at all?

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