John poured for both of them, then sat back his gaze never wavering from Cas as he spoke. His expression may have been a carefully crafted mask, but it was not difficult to miss the growing agony in his eyes.

When Castiel concluded his narrative, the only sound at the table was the sharp crack of the glass giving way beneath John’s hands. He looked down and absently began picking bloodied shards of glass out of his palms. The pain was welcome, it kept him focused while he mind tried to process what he had been told. Dean going to hell for Sam? Sam setting Lucifer free? His boys dying? It was too much to for anyone to take in at once; as a father, it was almost impossible.

Had it been anyone else who had admitted to being a part of a scheme to manipulate his sons into being the weapons of both Heaven and Hell and bring about the Apocalypse, John wouldn’t have hesitated to reach across the table land at least one good punch. The only thing that kept that from happening was the battered old watch that Cas wore on his wrist.

A badly shaken father looked into Castiel’s face. "But even then, you had your doubts, before you decided to fall in with Dean and Sam?"