Dean heard
their father moving around in his room and told his brother to pack their
things and load them in the car. The teen
knocked on his dad’s door and heard a murmur.
He opened the door and entered.
“Dad, we're loading up. I figured you’d want to
leave as soon as you were ready.”
John
stared at his son and nodded.
“Can I
make you some coffee or a bowl of cereal?”
John shook
his head and finished dressing. Dean
left the room, confused at his father’s attitude. Castiel stared at the man and wondered what
he was up to.
John
walked out of his room and found his son waiting with the med kit. His eyebrows raised and he sat down at the
table and let Dean check the hand. It
was badly bruised, but there were no breaks.
His son wrapped the hand and made a sling for him.
“I don’t
need the sling. I have to drive.”
“I can
drive, Dad.”
Two pairs
of eyes stared each other down.
Thirty
minutes later, Dean pulled out of the parking lot of the motel. John rode shotgun. Sam and Castiel sat in the back seat. The angel had a smug look on his face.
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