Dean Winchester was bored. If you thought that was dangerous when he was corporeal, you wouldn't believe how bad it was once he lost his body
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It was interesting how losing half your family woke up something inside you that you couldn't quite recognize.
What was even more interesting -- and considering the thoughts and emotions this thing had filled him with, that much worse -- was that John didn't want to identify it. He wanted answers over introspection, and above all else, he couldn't shake that need to make someone hurt for his loss.
He didn't want to go that route. Even though something told him Dean might agree with the idea, Mary wouldn't want it. And for a while, he'd tried to respect that decision. He'd kept an eye on Sam -- even though that never quite seemed to end well since he rarely knew what to say to him -- drank plenty, and tried to keep going as he had before.
Naturally, that couldn't last. And John told himself that was fine, to a point. He'd look for the answers. Not just for himself, but for Sam too. As he walked to the library, it seemed only right. And if he found out who was to blame for all this?
Dean is sitting across from him, chin resting in his hand as he watched him pour over the books. John was still John. There was still that part of him that Mary fell in love with, and almost none of the man that Dean knew as his father. But there was something about seeing him here, in this setting, that brought back some fonder memories for Dean, and he couldn't help but smirk a bit.
And decide that he had to disrupt it.
It took him a moment, before he idly reached for one of the books and picked it up, leafing through it and shaking it out as though he was looking for something.
How the hell he was supposed to get through any of this was beyond him, but John still isn't walking away. The need to throw some of these books across the room nonwithstanding. What the hell was he even looking for, anyway
( ... )
Dean paused for a moment, watching as he reached for the book, before closing it and handing it over to John, smirking a bit. Okay, maybe this could be fun. He reached for another book once John took the first one, starting to flip through it again, trying to figure out what he was researching.
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What was even more interesting -- and considering the thoughts and emotions this thing had filled him with, that much worse -- was that John didn't want to identify it. He wanted answers over introspection, and above all else, he couldn't shake that need to make someone hurt for his loss.
He didn't want to go that route. Even though something told him Dean might agree with the idea, Mary wouldn't want it. And for a while, he'd tried to respect that decision. He'd kept an eye on Sam -- even though that never quite seemed to end well since he rarely knew what to say to him -- drank plenty, and tried to keep going as he had before.
Naturally, that couldn't last. And John told himself that was fine, to a point. He'd look for the answers. Not just for himself, but for Sam too. As he walked to the library, it seemed only right. And if he found out who was to blame for all this?
He'd deal with that when the time came.
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There was a sight he never thought he'd see.
Dean is sitting across from him, chin resting in his hand as he watched him pour over the books. John was still John. There was still that part of him that Mary fell in love with, and almost none of the man that Dean knew as his father. But there was something about seeing him here, in this setting, that brought back some fonder memories for Dean, and he couldn't help but smirk a bit.
And decide that he had to disrupt it.
It took him a moment, before he idly reached for one of the books and picked it up, leafing through it and shaking it out as though he was looking for something.
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