The New York Hotel

Guilt

Dean sat down in the Impala, staring at the steering wheel, the note that his father left on the dashboard. Two days. Two days since he found his dead father's body. But, according to the coroner, he had been dead for about two weeks. Two weeks before Dean had even thought about his father or his apartment. All because he was too wrapped up in actually being happy. He pursed his lips, anger and hatred rising inside his body. He was so mad at himself. How could he have been so selfish?

"Dean?" he heard a familiar voice ask, although it sounded distant, as if he were far away. Dean quickly grabbed the envelope and then looked up at Jody who was watching him with concern.

He got out of the car and looked at her. "Hey Jody." he said gently.

"Why are you here?" she asked. "And why do you look like you've been through Hell and back?"

Dean sighed. "Um, because I pretty much have been."

Jody frowned and she wrapped her arms around him tightly, her body radiating warmth and love. "Come on inside. It's cold out here anyways."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and they walked into the warm house that seemed to always smell of apple pie. As they walked in, Bobby rolled into the living room. He looked over at Dean with a grim look and Dean knew he knew. "Jody, you might want to sit down." Dean said softly.

Jody frowned but then sat down on the couch, Bobby rolling next to her. He grabbed her hand with his and Dean felt a weight on his chest. He wished he had brought Castiel along, but he told Cass that he had to do this alone. And Castiel agreed with him.

"What's going on?" Jody asked gently.

"Is Sam here?"

"No, he's at school." Jody said. She turned to Bobby. "Why are you acting as if someone died?"

"Because someone did die." Dean said quietly. "John... he... he took his own life."

Jody inhaled sharply while Bobby's eyes closed tightly as if he was in pain. He sighed and Dean felt himself slowly lose control once again. He let a tear slip but he didn't try to stop it this time. And soon, one tear became two tears, and then four tears, and then six and so on. Dean slowly sat down, exhaling as he finally said out loud what he had been denying for the last two days. "John's dead. And it's my fault."

Bobby grabbed Dean's hand, something that Bobby has only done once before-when Mary died-and looked him square in the eye. "What your father did... that is not on you, son."

Dean's eyes shook as his lip started to tremble. "I-I should have checked on him. I should have let him take Sam and myself home. But instead, I got wrapped up with Castiel and with trying to keep Sam safe..."

Bobby shook his head. "You did the right thing. Keeping yourselves away from John like that. What John did was his own fault. He should have gotten help. He should have tried to be a better father. But he was in over his head." he watched Dean intently. "Son, look at me." Dean's eyes shot up to Bobby's. "Sometimes, people's demons get the best of them. You didn't kill your father. His demons did."

Dean exhaled shakily and then lowered his head. "Had I known dad was even thinking about suicide... I would have stayed by his side..."

Bobby gripped Dean's hand tightly. "I know, Dean. I know."

______

Telling Sam was the hardest part. Dean waited outside of Sam's school and then picked him up and took him out for ice cream. As if ice cream would make up for a dead beat father. Once Dean and Sam visited and got caught up with each other's lives, Dean looked at Sam with fear in his eyes.