Driving through upstate New York was boring. All there was to see were trees, rivers and farms. Dean couldn't wait until they stopped for the night; at least a motel would have cable. He didn't even notice the foliage, turning yellow, orange and red in the cool breeze of autumn. An eight-year old just didn't care about that stuff.

"Daddy, are we stopping soon?" Sammy asked from the backseat, propping his chin up on the top of the bench seat between his father and brother.

"Sit back," John told him without taking his eyes off the road, "Are you wearing your seatbelt?"

"Yes, Daddy," Sam assured him, even as he clicked the locking mechanism back into place.

"We've only been driving for two hours," John reminded, "We still have a bit farther to go."

"But I'm bored," Sammy whined.

His father said nothing.

To occupy himself, Sammy started kicking the back of Dean's seat.

"Stop it," Dean growled, twisting around to glare at him brother.

"I'm bored," Sam announced again.

"So?" Dean grumbled.

"Play with me," Sam demanded.

"Dean, play with your brother," John told Dean.

The eight-year old sighed, "Fine, how about I-Spy, Sammy?"

Sam shook his head and looked out the window.

"Apples!" he cried, the sight of hundreds of bright red apples hanging from trees in an orchard they were passing catching his eye.

Dean turned to look too, "There's people out there!"

"I want an apple!" Sam cried and kicked the back of his brother's seat again.

"Dad, can we go apple picking? Please?" Dean asked.

John quickly glanced at the orchard, "We have to get to-"

"Please, Dad?" Dean asked again, "It looks like fun. Can we? Huh, please?"

John began to slow the car down. Although he wanted nothing more than to keep driving, he knew if he did he'd have two very upset kids on his hands; and Sammy wasn't afraid to still have the occasional temper tantrum if he didn't get what he wanted.

Pulling a U-Turn, John drove the Impala up the orchard's long gravel driveway and up to a makeshift parking lot.

A woman wearing a yellow and orange vest came up to the car.

"Are you here for the apples?" she asked, smiling in at the small family.

"Uh, yeah," John muttered.

"It's ten dollars a person and kids under ten are free," she told John who raised his eyebrows at her in surprise.

"I've got two under ten," he told her as he fished his wallet out and handed her a ten-dollar bill.

"Then its your lucky day," the woman smiled.

John nodded and listened as she gave him directions to the orchard. He thanked her and got out of the car, waiting while his sons exited. Sammy, excited, nearly ran ahead of them but John reached out and grabbed the back of his hoodie.

"You hold your brother's hand," John scolded the four-year old.

Sam sighed as though this were a great hindrance and held his hand out to Dean. As soon as his older brother grabbed his fingers, Sam started tugging, trying to make him hurry.

"C'mon Dean," Sam dug the tips of his sneakers into the muddy ground as he pulled, "Go faster."

Dean just chuckled, "The apples aren't going anywhere, Sammy."

They walked up a dirt path, past trees already barren of their fruit, following the sounds of laughter and chatter. Five minutes later they stood at the entrance of the orchard, the trees heavy with apples, lined up in neat rows, people of all ages walking in amongst them carrying baskets.

There were a collection of baskets sitting on the grass at the entrance to the orchard and John bent down to pick one up.

"I want one too!" Sam announced and reached for a basket for too large for him.

"We won't have enough room in the car if we all take a basket," John told his youngest son.

Sam's lower lip stuck out and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why don't you and Dean find me the best apples and I'll carry them, okay?" John asked, thinking quickly.

Sammy smiled, "Okay!"

He turned and ran off into the trees.

"Not too far, Sam!" John shouted before Dean took off after him.

John sighed and started walking after his sons. He was surprised at how many people were out here, many of them families with young children, but there were also couples, both young and old.

The hunter's throat suddenly constricted and his eyes stung; he and Mary had always wanted to do things like this with their sons before she had died. The sight of so many happy families only reminded John of ruined plans and lost memories.

"Daddy!" a gleeful cry caught John's attention and he cleared his throat, smiling as Sam hurried forward, holding out a red apple the size of a softball.

"Look at what I got!" Sam exclaimed, holding the apple in front of John's face.

"That's great, Sammy," his father praised him, "Put it in the basket."

John lowered the basket and Sam dropped the fruit inside before running off again.

"First time?" a male voice asked and John glanced over to see a man around his own age with his own basket half-full of apples.

"We're just passing through actually," John told him, "My boys wanted to stop."

The man smiled, "Well, this is the best orchard around. Cheryl, that's my wife, and I have been taking our girls here since they were babies."

The man lifted his chin and John looked around to see a woman with short brown hair holding the hands of two little girls around Dean's age.

"The twins love it," the man continued, "They wait all year for the fall just so they can pick apples."

John nodded.

Dean was approaching, his arms loaded down with apples. The eight-year old dumped the fruits into John's basket, smiled at the man his father had been talking with then ran back through the trees.

W

It didn't take the Winchesters long to fill their basket to the brim and although Sam wanted to get another one, John reminded them that it was getting late and they had somewhere to be.

"Okay," Sam muttered but he smiled.

John carried the basket of apples to the Impala and set it into the trunk. Before closing the lid, he reached in and grabbed a couple of apples and handed them to his sons.

"Don't complain that you're hungry for the next week," John told them with a smile, "Because I'll just give you apples to munch on."

Dean took a large bite out of his, the juice running down his chin, "I won't."

Sam, taking daintier bites, looked up, "Can we do this again next year?"

John shrugged, "We'll see."

The next few miles went by quickly, the only sound in the Impala was the contented sound of two boys eating apples.

Author's Note:

Please leave a review if you enjoyed.

Although this story has nothing to do with the holiday, I want to wish all my fellow Canadians a very happy Thanksgiving!