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.

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