Death Becomes Him

Disclaimer: Come on. If I owned Supernatural, I would be writing the episodes, not fan fiction.

Author's Note: So sorry this has taken so long to update. I really like this story and I know where it's going, so I'm going to try to get it all up before this season is over. And now that I actually have time on my hands, I'll do my darnest to do so. So hang on and don't forget to review, cause it is my beer and chocolate. Ummm… yeah, I need 'em. Enjoy!

Chapter 3: History is the Future

The truck rumbled to a stop, pulling into the hotel parking lot. John twisted the key, turning the engine off. Looking into the front windshield, he stared into the motel room he and Dean were currently calling home.

John could see Dean thru the window. He was sitting with the laptop in front of him, apparently completely wrapped up in whatever he was doing to even notice being watched.

John sighed. Gonna have to give him a talking to. He's getting lazy. No, not lazy. Depressed. Dean has lost something. That spark that he had always had when he was hunting. What had made him as good as he had been. He lost his Sam.


"Chow time!" John called out as he opened the front door. He paused, watching Dean stare back at him. John hadn't missed Dean's reaction. Him jumping, the flurry of key pushing followed by a face as guilty as OJ's. Neither man moved, both afraid to speak, both aware the other had seen. John decided to make the first move.

"What'cha doin' there?"

"Nothing" Dean replied, a bit too quickly.

"That's something alright." John moved to the beds, placing the food bags on the top sheet. "Dean, don't lie to me. What do you have there?"

"Internet porn" Dean said, his face completely straight. "You went out, I figured I could enjoy some alone time. You should check out the site. Nice double Ds."

"Couldn't have been much fun with your pants zipped up."

Dean's jaw ticked, the only response he gave. "Now are you going to show me what you've been working on for the last ten minutes while I've been sitting out in the parking lot watching you? Or am I going to have to show myself?"

Dean's breath stopped, his eyes widened slightly. In Winchester language, you never let Dad show himself the mess you made. Owning up, even if it was bad, guaranteed a punishment that wasn't as harsh. Dean sighed in defeat. He pulled the laptop closer to him as John sat across the table. He pushed a few keys and spun the laptop around to face his dad.

John grasped the laptop, letting his eyes skim he page before settling on a single name. Samuel Winchester. John looked up, his face still as stone.

"Dean, this is the investigation report." Dean nodded. "Sammy's report." Another nod. "You broke into police records?" A third nod, accompanied with a raspy voice.

"He… he showed me a few tricks. In case I had to do something without him here." Dean gave a small smile, which fell away almost before it was formed. "You know computers today. System's complicated. And he was always the geek boy." Dean finished with a whisper. Almost five months now and I still have trouble getting his name out. When won't I feel like a traitor every time I try to say his name aloud? Soon, I know. Always soon. Fucking healing should go faster.

"Dean." His father's voice snapped Dean back to reality. "Why were you looking at the report?"

Dean lowered his head and picked at his jeans. This was not how he wanted to tell his dad. "I ummm… I never knew his name."

"What?" Whose name?" John asked, confused and completely caught off guard.

"The truck driver. The one who killed… him. I wanted to know his name. where he lives. If… if he's living his life. If he has moved on." Dean lowered his head, staring in his hands clasped in his lap.

John leaned back into the chair, letting his breath out. He slowly wiped his face with his hand, gathering his thoughts.

"So what is it? What's his name?"

"Brian Carter." Dean glanced up, waiting for a reaction.

"Dean." John leaned toward his son, placing his arms on the table. "Why would you think you had to hide this from me?"

The young man shrugged. "Cause it was stupid. And wouldn't change anything. It was… it was just something I had to find out." Dean raised his head, his eyes shinning slightly. "I'm trying, dad. I'm trying real hard. But I don't know how much longer I can feel like this."

"Dean? What do you mean?"

Dean shook his head, his mouth twitching in what could be a half smile. "No, Dad. I'm not talking about killing myself. It's just… I have to move on, don't I?" Dean turned his eyes to the laptop, where Sam's picture stood smiling between the two men. Slipping his hand into his pant pocket, he gave the small bag a squeeze. "Sam would want me to be happy, right?"

John nodded, his jaw too tight to even try talking. This was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for. His son was going to be okay.

A few hours later found the two men lying calmly on their respective beds, bellies filled with food. John flipped lazily thru the channels, not taking in what the screen was showing. Glancing over to the other bed, he smiled as the sight of Dean's head resting calmly on his pillow, his eyes closed in sleep. The laptop, which had been perched on his lap, had leaned off to the side. John reached over and grasped the laptop, pulling it slowly off his sleeping son. Might as well find our next hunt if I'm not sleeping.

John jiggled the touchpad a bit, waiting for it to come out of sleep mode. He couldn't help but stare at Dean. The peaceful nights were rare and far between, but when they came, John felt happiness wash over him.

Clicking on the search browser, John decided to use a site he had used in the past. It was reliable and usually gave the most updated facts. John made a few clicks, waiting for the usual site to pop up. His mouth turned to a frown as an error message appeared. A couple more clicks and typing gave him no answers. The hunter shook his head. No way. Dean wouldn't have… he wouldn't have a reason. Unless…

John cursed. He flipped open his phone, scrolling down the names until he found the one he wanted and pressed send. While waiting for the pick-up, John cursed once again. He had waited too long. Dean had lied. There had been more. Finally he heard a click and a muffled hello.

"Joshua, I need a favor. Yeah, I know it's too early for anything of the non-evil variety to be awake, but listen up. I got a computer and the work history has been wiped out. And I mean completely wiped, beyond my skills. Can you fix it?" John waited a moment, nodded, and glanced at his sleeping son, seeing him in a new light. His peaceful slumber was for a different reason. "Good. I'm leaving now. I'll be there by late afternoon."


The dark figure stood by the window of the motel. The sun would be rising in a few hours. Most of the items needed had already been gathered. That just left one ingredient left. He smiled in the dark, watching as John Winchester placed his bag in his truck and sped off, leaving his son slumbering in the room. Finally. The figure smiled. Now I can get to work.


Author's Note: Interesting enough? It's slowly moving along. And it was a bit short, I know. But either the next chapter or the chapter after that will have a big reveal and then the story will just keep rolling. So keep checking for updates cause apparently, the alarms are down. Please review cause it makes me inspired. Salt and Burn, Baby!