When Dean flumped down softly on the rooftop, his
booted feet making a sound roughly equivalent to a
pair of moths wrestling in feathers, he felt only the
tiniest amount of disappointment when his father
grunted without turning around, "Took you long
enough."
Yep, only a tiny amount of disappointment. The
resignation waaay overwhelmed it.
He took the pair of thermal-eye binoculars that John
was holding out and squinted through them,
unconsciously baring his teeth. "There's activity,
all right," he said. "Extreme cold spots popping up
all across the roof."
"So you think there's multiple occurrences?"
If you'd asked anybody if Dean Winchester was a deep
thinker, they'd probably laugh in your face before
they asked if you'd been drinking. So yeah, he was
definitely more of a both-barrels-blazing kind of guy,
but that didn't mean he was reckless or thoughtless
about stuff. He wasn't brought up that way. He
didn't really have the luxury.
What he did learn to do was think on his feet,
especially with his dad regarding him levelly in the
hot darkness.
"No," Dean said, and saw John nod approvingly. "With
all the stuff they've got going on in there, they're
bound to need some cooling units. It could be those
we're picking up on."
"Except then we'd see corresponding black spots where
the units produce heat."
"Right," Dean said. He didn't elaborate. Anything he
said now would either make him look like he was
covering for himself or he was incompetent for not
mentioning it in the first place. He coughed briefly
and said, "Y'know, dad, I don't think we really need
Sam in on this."
John gave him a flat stare. "Sam knows what his
responsibilities are," he rumbled. "There's no middle
ground here, Dean. He has to do his job."
Dean shifted, letting his thigh muscles relax briefly
before taking up his crouch again. "I'm just saying.
I'm just saying...maybe his job is graduating from
high school with a scholarship, not running around at
night fighting evil."
"Nobody's forcing him to do anything he doesn't want
to." John stood up, shoulders squared and broad.
"But he's either in or out. His fooling around could
get us all killed." He stepped out onto the ledge of
the rooftop. "Come on."
"Some day, he's gonna take you up on that," Dean said,
but John was already gone in a swirl of black, his cape making less sound than Dean had made landing on the roof.
Taking a deep breath, Dean tikked on the night-vision
lenses in his mask, shooting out his own de-cel line
to follow his father into the night.
