Title: Unrelated, 1/9
Art by: beelikej
Pairing: John/Mary, John/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Total Word Count: 5766
Warnings: Explicit slash
Disclaimer: If only John and Dean were mine... *sigh*

A/N: See all the great art, along with all my other stories on my LJ (john-n-dean dot livejournal dot com). Dean is not a Winchester in this story.

Chapter 1

The day was hot, one of the first truly hot days of the year. The kids would be out of school on break soon, and the Winchesters would take their annual camping trip. Maybe one or two to a local theme park or a cross country drive. Today had been a slow day at the garage, so John had closed up shop early to give his girl some TLC. His coveralls only covered his legs today, the top portion rolled up and the arms tied around his waist to keep them up. The two-car attached garage behind him was even hotter than the air outside and he could feel the heat radiating from the open door. He was hot, sweaty and most likely smelly. And starving, his stomach suddenly reminded him with a growl that he swore could be heard in the next county. It was almost dinner time.

He could smell something cooking in the house and he wondered what Mary was making for supper. He hoped it wasn't something vegan again. He needed meat and potatoes. His wife always insisted that you needed something light on a hot day, but he was craving something substantial. After a long shower and before bed in the air-conditioned cool of the house. He hoped this early heat wave wasn't a sign of things to come. He wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow.

The thermos full of water he'd been sipping on wasn't as ice cold as it had started out anymore, but it still felt cool on his parched throat. What he really wanted, though, was a beer. But he was already sweating like a bitch. He didn't want to get dehydrated. He snorted in amusement and called himself a pussy. There was a time when he wouldn't have even thought of dehydration, would stand out in the sweltering heat with a cooler at his side, knocking back cold ones from the time he popped the hood until he closed it again. Maybe even have one last one as he basked in the satisfaction of having a perfectly maintained classic and polished his fingerprints off the hood. Obviously, he was turning into the Colonel. There were worse people to be, he guessed.

All he'd have time for today was a tune up. The oil change would have to wait until the weekend. A drop of sweat tickled as it slowly made a path between his shoulder blades. He flexed his shoulders absently, annoyed. Glancing up at the swish of baggy jeans and saw his oldest son walking up the drive through the heat haze rising off the sidewalk. He did a double take.

"What the hell happened to you, Sammy?"

"I got jumped after school…"

"Jumped?" John grabbed his son by a skinny bicep and pulled him closer and began a thorough field exam. At fifteen, Sam had just hit one hell of a growth spurt. The short, pudgy kid John was used to was now a tall, willowy boy on the cusp of manhood. The boy was only a head shorter than him now, and he was beginning to suspect that his son could possibly grow taller than he was. Most of the men on his side of the family were tall and he had no doubt now that Sam was going to take after them.

"Dad!" Sam tried to evade his father's probing hands, but it was in vain.

"Be still, son," John said firmly. The boy stilled immediately, but it was obvious that he didn't want to. Sam always had to make sure John knew that he obeyed under duress. That he felt John's ability and willingness to force his will on him was a travesty of justice. Maybe that was why the boy was dead set on becoming a lawyer. Fighting the system, his own spin on what his mother had done before him.

"You should see the other guys."

John froze for a second, mid-poke in his mission to make sure none of his kid's bones were broken. He'd never taught Sammy how to fight. Mainly because the boy didn't want to learn and had played him and his peacenik wife off each other like a freaking pro. Which, as their eldest son, he definitely was. So, if Sammy didn't know how to fight, how could the other boys possibly be in worse shape? Unless the boy knew how to fight naturally. He'd seen it before, kids who somehow managed to find their legs when thrown into a fight and hold their own despite never having fought before. But he never would have guessed his son would be one of them. "What do you mean?"

"This guy… he saved me!" John felt his heart drop in the face of his son's excitement. If the boy would let him teach him just a little self-defense then maybe he wouldn't need saving like some damn damsel in distress. Even his sisters knew how to defend themselves. He suspected that Sam didn't want to learn simply because John wanted to teach him. His boy could be willful like that. "You should've seen him, Dad. It was like somethin' out of a movie."

"Yeah?" John resumed his examination, a small smirk on his face. For such an ardent pacifist his firstborn sure did love violence. At least from afar. "That was awfully nice of him. Although if you had let me teach you to fight, you wouldn't've needed saving."

Sam blushed, but refused to rise to the bait. "Can I invite him to dinner this weekend? Please?"

"Sure. Why not… least we can do for the guy who saved our firstborn. Just make sure you clear it with your mother too." He put his hands on the boy's bony shoulders, satisfied that none of his injuries were serious. "Speakin' of which, you thought this was bad? Just wait and see what your mother'll subject you to once she sees you all black and blue like this."

Sam groaned and trudged towards the house like a condemned man heading for the gallows. John chuckled and went back to work on his girl. Maybe just one beer wouldn't hurt.

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

The first time John saw Dean swaggering up his drive it felt like the bottom dropped out of his stomach. He was just twisting the oil cap back on his girl's engine after finishing up the oil change he hadn't had time to do the week before when he looked up to see the most stunning boy he'd ever seen in his life. A small shy smile showing off perfect teeth, striking eyes in an unusual shade of green, a light dusting of freckles on his flawless skin, long lashes. It was difficult for him to wrap his mind around the fact that this kid had taken on three bullies and walked away with all that gorgeous unmarred. He also had to admit to himself that he found the kid so damn attractive that he could already feel his brain turning into mush, and that was not a good thing at all.

"Dean Jacobs?"

"Yes sir. Mr. Winchester?"

He grunted softly and nodded in the affirmative, approving of the boy's manners. "So, I hear I have you to thank for the fact that my son's still breathin'."

Dean blushed and looked down. "It was nothin', sir. I don't like bullies, you know?"

It wasn't as hot as it had been the previous week, a cool breeze making it almost perfect outside. John regarded the kid silently as he wiped his hands off on his coveralls. Looks, character and modesty. Nice combination. He closed the hood of the Impala. "Well, come on. Let me take you in and introduce you to the clan. Hopefully you'll be able to fend for yourself while I wash up."

The kid went wide eyed at that comment and John chuckled. Dean swallowed hard and blinked at him. He put his hand on the kid's shoulder and steered him towards the house.

"Don't worry. They don't bite. Least not lately."

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

"Where'd you learn to fight?" Sam asked in the middle of the meal. John was grateful that it was roast beef today, not a hint of tofu to be found. "Did your father teach you?"

"I wish my old man coulda taught me to fight," he said, his mouth still full of food. He was oblivious to the younger children staring at him with a mixture of disbelief, awe and nausea. John fought to keep a straight face. The kid had almost no table manners, but he was charming – and attractive – enough for that to be nothing more than a minor annoyance. "I had to learn the hard way."

"The hard way?"

"Let's just say, I'm very thankful that I heal up so good. And I really don't think I'm as good as I could be, you know. If I had some real training."

"If you want, I can show you a few moves." Even as he felt the words coming out, John knew he was making a huge mistake. If nearly twenty years of marriage had taught him anything, it was that you avoid temptation at all costs. You don't put yourself in the path of it. Honor wasn't cheap or painless, and it was too damn easy to throw away in a moment of weakness.

The boy's face lit up like a kid at Christmas. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Dude… why did you need to learn to fight?" Sam cut in before John could respond. Clearly the boy thought that Dean was his friend and didn't want to relinquish his attention so easily.

"Dude! Have you seen this face?" Dean pointed at himself with his fork, a small smirk tugging his lips upwards on one side. "When I was a kid, people used to think I was a girl. The only color I wore for the first five years of my life was blue. So guys see this much pretty and they think I'm soft." John snorted quietly at that. So much for modesty, he thought as he listened to Dean, who seemed completely in his element now. Or maybe he just knew his strengths and vulnerabilities. "Once they get the impression that you're soft, they will have absolutely no mercy. In fact, you probably need to get Mr. Winchester to show you some moves too. The minute I'm not around those jackasses'll be back for more. And they'll likely want to take the beating I gave 'em out on you."

"Oooooh!" Shauna said, sounding scandalized the way only an eight year old could be. "He said a bad word! Daddy, he said a bad word!"

Dean gave John another one of his deer in the headlights stares and he had to laugh as he threw the poor kid a conspiratorial wink. The boy blushed. He seemed to be an odd mixture of swagger and humility. There was more to Dean than met the eye, and John found himself wanting to know him. He turned to Shauna, her wide light brown eyes almost golden in the overhead light, looking up at him like he would right this great wrong. It was a look that never failed to make him melt. She was still young enough to think he could make anything right. He dreaded that day when she figured out the truth. "I know, kiddo. He's new, though. What do you say we cut him some slack, just for today?"

Shauna sighed and nodded.

Andrew had speared his slice of roast beef with his fork and was nibbling on it. John frowned at him for a second. "You want some help with that beef, son?"

"Nah… I'm good."

"You sure about that?"

The boy shrugged his thin shoulders. "Whatever works."

John chuckled softly and ruffled the boy's hair. It was what he always said, it was the philosophy he'd been taught growing up, the one he'd lived by in the Corps and the one he taught his kids. When you have an objective, you do whatever works to achieve it. It doesn't matter if it's pretty… and what the five year old was doing with that beef definitely wasn't pretty but there was no doubt but that it was getting eaten. He was just going to have to hose the kid down later. "Oorah, son. Oorah."

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

One of the best things about having so many kids was that clean up went a lot quicker than it did when it was just John and Mary. John had the post dinner clean up running like a well-oiled machine at this point. Within ten minutes of their guest leaving, everything was wiped down and rinsed off, and the dishwasher was loaded and put on a six hour timer. Just in case someone got the munchies in the middle of the night. John was laying on the couch watching a documentary about the Battle of the Bulge on the Military Channel, Shauna curled up on his lap wearing her pajamas, already sound asleep. He ran his fingers through her silky blond hair. Andrew was clean and sprawled out on his legs, also asleep.

He felt thin fingers in his hair. Mary stood behind the couch, a small smile on her face. It was clear that she thought the whole thing was adorable. "You want me to take one of them up?" she asked softly.

"Nah. I got 'em. I'll be up as soon as this is off."

She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead before going upstairs. He watched her go, loose golden curls bouncing, curvy hips swaying gently. She was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

There should be a law, Dean thought as he stood under the spray of hot water in the shower. Married men old enough to be your father shouldn't be sexy. They shouldn't have gorgeous dimpled smiles that made their eyes sparkle. They shouldn't wink at you conspiratorially or have thick curly hair that your fingers itched to run through. They shouldn't have deep, rumbling voices that made you want to hear them say your name while you were giving them head.

He groaned when he finally gave into the urge to touch himself, a soapy hand wrapping around his half hard cock. He'd been half hard all night, trying to think of anything but how incredibly hot John Winchester was. His wife wasn't bad either, and he would have thought he'd develop a crush on her. But sometimes who he was attracted to was completely unpredictable.

He'd pretty much always known that he was bisexual. It had confused him at first, why he wanted to kiss Brian AND Amy in third grade. He'd never been the type to worry about things like that, though, so he'd just gone with it and eventually ended up kissing them both. Amy had sworn that they would get married. Brian had stared at him wide eyed, like he didn't know if he should kiss back or punch him in the mouth. He'd chosen to run away and he never let himself be alone with Dean again. It didn't take him long to start understanding the difference beyond the obvious surface ones. He learned to figure out which boys wanted to be kissed, and which would likely try to rearrange his face for him.

John… there was something about the man that made him think that maybe John was one of the boys who wanted to be kissed. But he had a gorgeous wife, and Dean had seen the way he looked at her. Mary Winchester was no beard. So, even if John were bisexual like Dean, he was taken. And he was in love with his wife. John was off limits. But that didn't stop his fantasies.

He closed his eyes and let his mind wonder. He imagined John's hands on him, standing behind him in the shower and whispering dirty things in his ear. He groaned loudly when he came, shuddering and leaning heavily against the wall. He was so screwed.

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

"I like girls. But sometimes… I like guys too." Well, damn. Dean had no idea why he'd blurted that out. Luckily, they were alone this time. Usually it was a group lesson and John taught his girls how to fight the same way he taught his boys. They'd met at the garage before dawn and John and the older boys would spread mats over the cold concrete floor.

Judging from how good all the rest of the kids were, Dean would have thought Sam would know more about self-defense than just curling up into a little ball until the blows stopped coming. It didn't take him long to realize that Sam just hadn't wanted to learn for whatever reason. The boy was quick and had good reflexes, so it didn't take him long to get the basics down. He didn't care to learn more than it would take to keep from getting his ass handed to him again, and Dean guessed he understood. Sam wasn't the type of person who enjoyed fighting with his hands… he liked fighting with his words. No that that would help the kid with bullies, but Dean's father was like that so he knew the type.

But none of the Winchester kids were here now. They were off with Mary doing something today, so it was just him and John. They were sitting on the floor of John's garage, drinking water and sweaty after a round of sparring, and he was obsessed with a droplet of sweat running down the side of the older man's neck. He desperately wanted to lick it off. Before he realized he was even speaking, his confession slipped out.

"You're bisexual." John said matter-of-factly.

Dean nodded, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow him already. "Yeah. I don't usually tell people that. Most people don't understand."

"First thing you need to know about people? Lion share of 'em are idiots. The minute you come to terms with that fact, it cuts out most of your sources of frustration."

Dean snorted softly. He hadn't expected John to be so accepting. Normally, he didn't really expect anyone to be accepting. Even gay men tended to wonder what the hell he saw in women. Maybe… maybe he was right about John being bi. "I want to be a Marine. Like you were."

"Really? I think you'd do well in the Corps."

"Yeah? You don't think my… sexuality will be a problem?"

"Not as long as you understand you don't sign up to have fun. The men you serve with won't care once you prove yourself and they know you're not pervin' on 'em in the shower. I mean, honestly, who wants to get naked in front of someone they're completely unattracted to if they think that person's gonna be wackin' off to the image later? Once they know they can count on you and that you have honor, it won't matter what they find out about who you sleep with. Bein' a Marine is like bein' a member of a family. You look out for each other no matter what and the only thing that can get you kicked out is disloyalty."

"Disloyalty?"

"Anything that threatens the unit, or the individuals in it. You don't shit where you eat. Meaning, you don't fuck with who you serve with, in any sense of the word. Or their spouses, or girlfriends, or boyfriends. That's disloyalty."

"So, I should go for it?"

"Yeah. If you wanna serve in a specific area, let me know. I might be able to help you out. I'll give the Colonel a call."

"The Colonel?"

"My father."

"You call your father the Colonel?"

John blushed slightly. "Don't start. Everybody calls him the Colonel. Even my mother."

Dean frowned at him and tried to imagine calling his father anything but Dad. Especially by rank or title. "Wow. Is he a hard ass?"

The older man shrugged. "About some things. But he's a fair man. A good man. Everybody respects him, so if he puts in a word for you people will listen."

Dean nodded and tore his eyes away from John's profile. He really should stop coming, but he knew he wouldn't. He was obviously a masochist.

One day, Dean thought he finally had John pinned to the mat. But the older man was already three steps ahead of him. He was always three steps ahead of him. It should be annoying, but somehow it wasn't. He ended up sprawled out on the mat trying to figure out how it happened. They were alone again, because everyone was in school. Dean had a senior skip day so he'd stayed when everyone else left, grumbling that senior skip days were grossly unfair. They only felt that way because they weren't seniors yet. Right now, though, he almost wished he were at school too. That someone John's age could throw him around like that was just plain wrong.

John looked down at him, his head cocked. "You gonna get up anytime soon, kiddo?"

"What, I'm not already standin'?"

The older man snorted and held out his hand. Dean took it and pulled himself up. John was like a mountain. He was barely an inch taller, but he was broad and solid. His mouth went dry as he looked into warm hazel brown eyes. There were flecks of gold in the irises. The thought of being held down and taken was doing funny things to his breathing.

"You okay, Dean? Did you hit your head?"

Dean shook his head and backed up. "Yeah… I mean no, I didn't hit my head, but yeah I'm okay. Just got the wind knocked outta me is all."

"Maybe we should call it a day," John said in his deep, rumbling voice as he walked to the small refrigerator and pulled out a beer.

"Can I have a beer?"

John gave him a measuring look as he twisted off the cap. "You do know you haven't reached the legal age yet, don't you?

He rolled his eyes. "Like that means anything."

John snorted and shook his head. He took a long pull before he answered. When he looked at Dean again, his eyes were sparkling with amusement. "Tell you what. You manage to pin me? And I'll give you a beer."

It took nearly a year for Dean to earn his first beer from John. These weren't the street fights that Dean had cut his teeth on. The old man was tough. And he fought dirty. "No such thing as a fair fight, kiddo," he'd say.

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

"Teach me?"

That's how Dean's internship at the garage started, with a tentative request. John could have pretended not to hear. He had a feeling that if he had, Dean wouldn't have repeated it. But it was the start of a disturbing trend of him not being able to say no to the boy, let alone ignore him. For the next two years, the boy showed up on time every day. It only took six months for him to get certified and after that he was every bit as dependable as John's own sons, sometimes more.

John couldn't say when during that time his feelings deepened from just wondering what the boy's lips tasted like or what kinds of sounds he'd make if John just gave in one day and bent him over. Of course, the only thing that he'd be giving into was his own sick little fantasies. Dean would likely be horrified if he tried anything and that would be the end of that. He'd likely think John was some sort of dirty old man and never come back again. After all, the kid was only two years older than Sammy.

You got to know a person when you saw them as much as he saw Dean. The was a quick learner, and knew how to follow directions. At least John's directions. Respect had to be earned with him, and until it was he tending to look at everyone with suspicion. What John couldn't figure out was what the hell he'd done to earn it. Dean was also easy to talk to. They could talk for hours. John would often lose track of time when he was talking to the boy, which was odd for him. There had even been a few times when he'd have things to do or somewhere to be, but he'd carry on the conversations anyway because he didn't want it to end. He didn't want to be somewhere else.

During the time that Dean worked full time at the garage, he went camping with them twice and on of couple of their other vacations. All the kids loved him, and Mary seemed to have some sort of motherly connection to him. She would fuss over the boy and make sure he always had enough to eat or fuss at him when she didn't think he was adequately dressed. Sometimes even John couldn't tell the difference between the way she treated Dean and the way she treated their children. It just made him feel even more like an old, sick fuck. If Mary could treat this kid like one of theirs, what the hell was wrong with him?

There was nothing fatherly about his feelings for Dean. All he wanted was to be close to him, to talk to him, to know everything there was to know about him. It was becoming an obsession, and John couldn't stop it. It made him feel helpless, like some sort of addict craving his next Dean fix. It also made him feel like a cheater. Like he was betraying his wife.

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

Dean should have said no when John first asked if he wanted to join the Winchester clan on their annual camping trip. Yet, here he was sitting around the campfire with them listening to John tell war stories. He knew John's six kids like they were part of his family by that point. Of course there was Sam, who was basically his shadow since he'd saved his ass. Then there was Michael who was shy and intense, Riley who was a total tomboy and took more risks than anyone else Dean had ever met, Shauna who was the girly girl always wearing pink and ribbons but who could skin a rabbit without blinking, Robert who was a complete jock and knew everyone, and Andrew who had all of Mary's passion combined with all of John's interests.

Most of the arguments in the family were between Sam and Robert, and Riley and Shauna. All the Winchesters were strong willed as far as Dean could tell. None of them liked being wrong, and none of them liked giving an inch of ground. Mary tried to get them to be tolerant. "You're no more right about most things than they are," she'd say. "You can't force your views on anyone. You have to learn to respect your differences." John tried to get them to think through how important what they were arguing about was, and let little things go. "You can't die on every hill," he'd say. "If you think they're bein' stupid, you just have to let them be stupid. They're not doin' it just to annoy you. And even if they are, is bein' annoyed gonna kill you?"

John and Mary were clearly in their element in the great outdoors, but the whole experience had just taught Dean that he hated camping. The only thing he really enjoyed was John teaching him to hunt. All the kids knew how to hunt with rifles and with bow and arrow, even Sam. They all knew how to dress a fresh kill and how to cook the meat. He was triumphant when he shot his first deer, until John explained the ritual to him. He didn't want to believe it, but the interesting shade that some of the kids turned told him that the man was completely serious.

"And you couldn't have told me about this before I killed it?" He stared at them wide-eyed. Suddenly this whole thing was a lot less awesome.

"Because I didn't want to distract you. Don't tell me you're too afraid."

Dean bristled at that. "Why would I be afraid? Grossed out, definitely. I mean, who the hell eats the eyes, anyway?"

"It's a survival technique. You have to be willing to eat the entire animal. The eyes are the part that gives people the most trouble. If you can get past that, then you'll be fine with the other unsavory parts."

He cleared his throat as he looked down at the deer, laying on the ground. The eyes were staring sightless at nothing. "So… do we at least cook 'em?"

Just about everyone snickered and Dean scowled at them. "No, kiddo," John answered gently, like he was afraid Dean would freak out. He had to admit he was close to freaking out, but he'd be damned if he was gonna lose his shit in front of the man. "We don't cook 'em. Just dig 'em out and suck 'em down like oysters."

Dean could either punk out – and likely never live it down – or just man up and do it. It took him three tries to swallow the first one and he nearly gagged once he did. He glared at the second before closing his eyes and choking it down too. John slapped him on his back and smiled at him proudly.

"Good. Now, you get to learn how to dress it. Venison's awesome when you cook it right."

"I think I lost my appetite," he said glumly. He'd been looking forward to the venison, but he was no longer sure he could hold anything down. His stomach was already threatening rebellion.

Sam snorted. "Like that's even possible."

John squeezed his shoulder before it fell away. Dean didn't want the older man to stop touching him. "Come on… you'll be alright."

The minute they returned to the campsite, Mary took one look at Dean and her face softened in sympathy. "He made you eat the eyes, didn't he?"

"Course I did," John spoke up. "It's a family tradition."

She sighed softly and shook her head. "And you wonder why I became a vegetarian." She handed Dean a cup of strong coffee and rubbed his shoulder as he sipped at it. It made him feel guilty, the way Mary treated him. She was like a second mom to him, and he was lusting after her husband like some sort of perv. But nothing would ever happen, because John didn't want it to happen. He had a really cool wife and six really cool kids. The man's life was perfect. What would he want with Dean? No, John was just a nice guy who'd let him be a part of his family.

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

John couldn't sleep. Well, he probably could, but every time he started to drift off he would begin to fixate on Dean. More to the point, he kept thinking of things he wanted to do to Dean. It unsettled him and so he'd given up trying to redirect his subconscious and come out here to watch the night sky. He heard Dean long before he saw him. He knew his footsteps now, the way he knew Mary's and his children's. The boy sat down next to him and he suddenly wanted to move away. Not because he didn't want to be close to him… because he wanted it so badly. Because being close to Dean made him feel like some strange cross between a dirty old man and a kid with his first crush. He tried to treat the boy like one of the kids the way his wife did, but he couldn't lie to himself. He knew what was in his own mind.

John had thought the boy was beautiful the first time he'd seen him, but who Dean was on the inside had turned out to be a thousand times more beautiful than who he was on the outside. It didn't take much to make him happy, to make him grin until he practically glowed. He was hard to upset, quick to get over it. He never argued and rarely complained. John never failed to be fascinated by the way he saw the world, how he built complex theories around things that most people never even gave a second thought to while giving almost no thought at all to things that most people worried themselves sick over.

"What're you doin' up?" he finally asked when they'd sat in silence for a few minutes, both looking at the stars. That was one of the things he liked best about Dean. They could sit in silence without either of them feeling the need to fill it up with useless chatter.

"Couldn't sleep. Kept thinkin' about how those eyes felt goin' down."

John snorted. "You'll get over it."

"Yeah."

"You did real good today, Dean." The boy smiled at him then, glowing in the moonlight and John was hit with the sudden desire to kiss him. It wouldn't take much. The distance between them was so small; all he had to do was lean over a little. It would be so easy. He pushed the desire down. "I'll teach you to use a bow if you decide to come with us again next year," he said instead. Because spending more time with the kid was going to make this go away, he told himself sarcastically.

"You'd want me to?"

"Sure. You're part of the family now. The only way out at this point is death. I ain't sure if even that'll work, kiddo."

Dean was silent for a moment, his face shrouded in shadow, before looking back up at the sky. "I had no idea there were so many stars."

"Yeah. You can only see the brightest ones in the city. Too much ambient light. But out here… out here you can see 'em all."

Dean shifted and their shoulders touched. John gasped softly at the jolt that went through him at the contact. He stood up a little too suddenly and had to put a hand against the tree they'd been leaning on to steady himself. Dean was staring up at him with wide, frightened green eyes. Did the boy know what he'd been thinking?

"I'm gonna walk the perimeter and then turn in. Don't stay up too late." He didn't wait for a response before disappearing into the brush.