#9:12

John pulls over and parks at a truck stop. He doesn’t say anything until they are seated and ordered, a beer in his hand.

“So, about Sammy,’ Dad says.

“What about Sammy, Dad?” Dean tries to be civil as he moves his glass of ice water away from his swollen eye. Lowering his voice, he says, “You didn’t have to punch me. Dad” Dean emphasizes the last word with a hard d at the end.He flinches again when the glass once more hits his skin.

Dean’s words don’t affect John at all.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, son. It’s the only way he’d let me do it.”

“Who? Let you do what?” Dean’s growing increasingly upset, but lets his dad continue.

“I couldn’t do it anymore, Dean. All those sounds you two make. I couldn’t block it out any longer.” Dean just freezes. His heart tightens and he finds it hard to breathe.

“Jesus, Dad, you’ve...known? You’ve...heard?” Dean’s hand tightens on the glass. He’s shocked that his dad...knows. “How long?” Dean keeps his voice steady, finally sets the glass on the table with shaking hands. His eye stings.

John runs his hand down his face. He doesn’t answer.

“Sam’s not who you think he is.” John doesn’t look up.

“What the hell does that mean?” 

“Dean, remember the shapeshifter from a few days ago?”

“Uh - huh. Crazy son of a bitch got away. Why does that -”