There was a part of John that was entirely ready to bolt, his fingers already searching for the door handle behind him. How long had it been since heâd really seen Dean? It had been decades since heâd died, but even before that, how long had it been since heâd taken in his son and how much heâd grown. Hell, John could still remember when Dean barely reached his knees.
After sacrificing himself a second time for his oldest son, John had gone to Heaven. It was a quaint little place; a perfect world where John could have the life he always wanted. There was some essence of his family there. The kids (6 and 10, respectively) were still children, their minds protected from any of the crap that had happened in the real world. Mary was there, too. He knew they werenât real, that his wife was dead and his kids were off fighting monsters, but he couldnât shake the pure joy he felt when he was playing ball with Dean or building some little lego contraption with Sam.
It was hard to forget the kind of innocence that radiated off of the kids he saw in Heaven. And yet that look in Deanâs eyes in that diner, it was enough to wash all of that away. Johnâs perfect world came crashing down with one look into those hazel-green eyes.Â
He felt his chest tighten, but against his own will his feet started to move across the diner, bringing him to the table that his eldest sat at. He allowed himself to sit in front of the boy, offering him the faintest of smiles.
Just as he opened his lips to say something, anything, the waitress appeared at his table with a bright smile. The name tag read Tina, but John didnât think this woman needed that- as she had introduced herself the moment she arrived. âI donât sâpose youâll be wantinâ a slice of that pie, wouldâya?â She asked, tilting her head just the slightest in the direction of Deanâs pie.
John offered the woman a smile. âJust a coffee, is fine.â And when she left, he finally spoke to Dean. âI still donât know how you can eat that sugary crap.â But it was all in jest- a reminder of the light back and forth that they used to have in diners just like this one.
Dean sat there, shell-shocked, as John walked over and sat down. He didnât even look up at Tina as she offered his father pie- a pie he knew he wouldnât take. âWell, usually with my mouth, dad.â It was a joke, obviously, but try telling his face that.
People were coming back- Dean knew this- but he was finding it so hard to believe that this man was his father. How many years had it even been since he had sold his soul for him? Far too many. Cas had been brought back countless times along with him and Sam, they had busted Bobby out of Heaven once, Amara had brought back mom, and this whole town was practically a walking talking graveyard, but Dean just couldnât wrap his head around this.
Out of nowhere, Dean had reached into his pocket for his flask of holy water and was quickly splashing it in Johnâs face. When nothing happened, he reached for his silver knife and handed it across the table- carefully so as not to alarm Tina and the rest of the room. âCome on, you know the drill.â
