The Pay-Off For Having Faith

25

When Castiel disappeared abruptly, taking the psychiatrist's body with him, Bobby nearly collapsed. He was sitting now on the couch next to John; both men looked shell-shocked.

Sam's eyes shifted from his father and uncle, to Dean. He met the other's green gaze, and Dean moved to his side.

"Okay, Sammy?" the older teen asked softly, reaching out to brush a finger down his cheek.

He nodded and shot the other as much of a smile as he could manage. His brother had been right. Twelve years in the hospital, at the hands of that demon doctor, when he had been right all along. He swallowed hard, hands shaking suddenly as the adrenaline of earlier began to wear off.

Sam turned his gaze to John as the man muttered a low curse almost beneath his breath. John ran a hand over his face before raising his eyes to Dean.
"Dean, I'm – I was – I'm sorry. You were right, all these years and – I didn't know. I'm sorry."

Dean stared at the man for a moment, before shifting his eyes to Sam. Sam reached out and caught hold of his brother's hand as Dean moved closer to him. He glared at his father, a silent challenge, as the man's eyes fell on their locked hands, then raised to look him in the face.

There was no way in hell he was letting go of his brother. Not for John, not for all the demons on the planet, not for anything. Never again.

John saw the challenge etched in Sam's features, and he saw the wariness etched in Dean's. He remained silent, biting down the urge to demand that Sam release his hold on the older teen. There were, he figured, more important things to consider right now. Like the fact a demon had just been in his living room. Like the fact an angel had killed the demon, and then whisked his body away into thin air.

Like the fact that he had left his son in a mental hospital for twelve years, and the boy had been right about the supernatural beings he had been claiming were real all along. Like the fact that the doctor he had entrusted with Dean's care had been the very demon Dean had tried to warn him about.

His fingers tugged at his hair as he ran a hand through it. It wasn't like it was something easy to believe – even now he could barely believe it. He hadn't had any proof, any indication that those things existed.

Realization struck him, yet again, as he raised his eyes to his sons. He hadn't tried to believe. The notion that demons and angels and other supernatural beings were real had been so far-fetched, that he had blown off any consideration that Dean was speaking the truth. That his son wasn't as .. hell, as crazy.. as he had believed. Schizophrenia aside, Dean had been right.

Sam had listened, though. He had tried to convince John to consider that maybe there was some truth in what Dean had been, for years, trying to tell him. His younger son had listened, and had actually taken in what Dean had been saying: hell, he had been the only one listening, apparently.

He muttered another curse as guilt rose up in him. His eyes fell on Dean – the young man was watching him with a look of uneasiness and, yes, mistrust – on his face. John shook his head and rubbed at his temple: this was too much to process. All of it.

John looked over at Bobby as his brother asked suddenly,
"How many of those – how many are there? An angel, that's what your friend is?"

Dean shrugged a shoulder, eyes on the far corner of the room. "Don't know," he answered, "Don't have a headcount. Cas is the only angel I've ever met, except maybe Gabriel. Demons though, seen a couple of them since being out, and before, in the hospital."

"Gabriel?" John stared at the teenagers for a moment, "Sam's Gabriel?" He shook his head – again, too much to process right now.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he told his oldest son again, eyes meeting the young man's. Dean only shrugged a shoulder, before moving to slip his arms around Sam and press his face against the younger boy's neck. Just as he had in the hospital. Just as he did every time he needed to feel safe. That realization struck John like a hard slap to the face, and he closed his eyes as that guilt clawed at him again.