John's small bark of a laugh was quiet, clearly strained, and ultimately reflected no amusement. "I know that's rich, coming from me, given that your mom never told me about the hunter life or that deal she made, that I kept things from you and Dean, that I didn't tell her about me or Dean going to Hell when she got here, but you have to understand something – I still knew her better than anyone, and she knew me better than anyone. It's harder now, with all those years she and I experienced but didn't live, she in that damned house and me in Hell, but she still knows me better than anyone, better than I know myself, and the same goes for me knowing her."
He leaned back, eyes slightly unfocused with the memories. "We used to fight, big fights even, with yelling and stomping and so much stubborn it would have choked a person to be in the same room." He closed his eyes. "Still have those fights now, even, though we don't have them right out in front of all of you. And Mary, she'd banish me to the couch for whatever I'd done, then be out a few hours later, telling me to take the bed because I had to work and needed the bed more. Pissed as hell at me, but couldn't stop worrying about my sleep. And we'd go back and forth a few minutes about who should sleep where and then we'd talk and make up."
He sighed, not smiling, but for a moment, his features a little softer. "Despite those nights like that, we never really went to bed angry, never fell asleep without being honest and talking things out. We fought, we stood up to each other, because we were ourselves with each other. The fights were good for our marriage, still are, as your mom is the one who keeps me in line, and I do the same with her even thought she has to do it for em a hell of a lot more than the reverse."
He opened his eyes, turning to look at Sam again. "So yeah, while you should tell her the truth about what's happened to you, just like we all deserve to hear you say it when you're ready to tell us, in the end, that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about all the times I see you back down when she gets upset, or see her back down when you get upset. And that's just the stuff I see unfiltered on those boards or here around the house."
He nodded in the direction of the house where the master bedroom was. "Your mom and I, we want what we have for the both of you, to see you both happy. You both have had too damn much unhappiness in your lives, it's time to find some, so in those darkest times, it's still there, waiting to get back out again. If you can work this out, prove me dead wrong about all of it, then that's good. But if it turns out that both of you finding what we have together means you and Heather... find it with other people, it doesn't mean you can't still love her, you can't still be a damned good dad to your kid and support Heather as the dad to her mom."
He turned entirely now, facing Sam, gaze direct. "Tell me something honestly," he said, a trace of the tone that meant he was expecting the best answer Sam could give, whether it was "yes", "no" or "I really don't know, Dad", as long as it was honest. "You want her happy, you're hiding big parts of yourself to make her happy – but are you happy, son? And if you're not happy, what will make it so someday you can be happy? Being just a lawyer or being one by day and a hunter by night? Just being married to someone, as long as it makes you look normal, or promising all of who you are to a woman that, in that strange unexplained way, makes you happiest when you've let her see all of you? Being the guy with the picket fence and the two kids and the mortgage – the whole Leave It To Beaver kind of package, or being a dad with all the complications and fears that come with it, including maybe being a dad that isn't married to your kid's mom when your kid is born?"