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“Dean! Get in the damn car; we’ve got to get moving.”
Dean scowled but obediently moved faster and jerked open the car door. As soon as he pulled the door shut, his dad hit the gas. Rolling down his window, Dean removed the borrowed tie he was wearing and let the wind rip it away.
“Hey, Dean, wanna see the cool plane Uncle Bobby gave me? He said he needed something to keep me out of his hair since you weren’t around. Where’ve you been?”
“I was—,” Dean began but John cut him off.
“Dean tried to go on a hunt by himself and got lost,” he said with a stern look at Dean.
Dean swallowed bitterly and said, “Yeah, Sammy. I was stupid and I screwed up. But it’s cool now; I’m back.”
***
The next day at a motel in Lancaster, New Hampshire, John tossed some newspaper clippings at Dean. “What do you think, Dean?”
Reading through them, Dean replied, “Gnawed on corpses in a funeral home. Sounds like a ghoul.”
“Good call. We’re going after it tonight.”
Dean stared at his father in surprise. “You’re taking me on a hunt? What about Sam?” He didn’t want to admit it, but Dean was a little excited about the prospect of going on a hunt. Since leaving Sonny’s he’d felt pissed off and resentful. He’d love to be able to vent a little bit of that anger. Two months of normalcy and freedom. Then his dad showed up and it was back to being responsible for someone else’s happiness instead of his own.
***
They entered the funeral home locked and loaded. Dean was in front so that John could watch his back. John was focused on protecting Dean and didn’t notice the funeral home director coming up from behind.
Dean heard a cracking sound and whirled to see his father slumping to the floor. The ghoul raised the urn he’d bashed John in the head with and rushed Dean. He barely had time to brace himself before the monster barreled into him. They crashed into a large vase of flowers, causing a cascade of water and roses. He managed to keep hold of his gun but couldn’t get a shot off. Instead, he grabbed the monster’s shoulders and drove his head forward into a head-butt. As the monster staggered, Dean raised his pistol and put three in its head.
Dean rushed to his dad to check for a pulse. Finding one, he began lightly slapping John’s face, trying to rouse him. John groggily opened his eyes and Dean sighed in relief.
“What the hell happened?” rasped John.
“Ghoul clocked you from behind, that’s what happened. I put him down.”
Groaning, John pushed himself to his feet and said, “Let’s get out of here. Looks like you’ve already hit the showers.” He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around Dean’s shoulders. “Here, put this on. It’s cold out there and you’re soaking wet.”
***
Back at the motel, John turned to Dean before opening the door. “Keep the jacket. I know you didn’t want to come back, but you did good tonight son. I’m proud of you.” He clapped Dean on the back and headed inside.
Dean gave a pleased half-smile before following his dad.