It happened so fast and John barely had enough time to throw his arm out infront of Dean,but by the time John had shoved Dean's fae away from the gruesome scene, it was too late.
Cradling Dean in his arms, John made it back to their hotel room, where he pointed to his youngest,Sam.
"Sammy, grab me that blanket and help me wrap it around your brother."
Even at 5 years old, Sam knew that tone. Serious, but also scared. He did as he was told and looked between his brother and father. "Daddy, what happened? Is he okay? Where's his kitty?"
Dean had found a stray cat around the hotel room and some how convinced his dad to get a few cans of food to feed it. John, needing a while to recover from a nasty werewolf hunt, allowed it.
After the initial shock lessened, John crouched in front of Dean and tried to console his 9 year old. "Buddy, I know he was your friend, and you did such a great job taking care of him."
John would never forget the shock and devestation in Dean's eyes when he saw the cat run into the road and get hit by a 18 wheeler.
Dean understood, in his own way, about dying. There were days that he would be really quiet. Especially on the anniversay of Mary's death,..
"It was just a stupid cat." Dean said defensively,but his eyes were swimming. John's heart broke. "Dean, I'm not mad. You don't have to be tough for me."
Dean's bright,shiny green eyes looked at his dad,bottom lip quivering, "You say that I need to be brave and tough. "
John rubbed his son's arms absently,shaking his head, "Deano, you're brave with out me telling you to be. Being tough doesn't always the best way. "
Sam was sat beside Dean,looking anxiously between the two.
"You're tough and brave though.." Dean's voice was so small,shaky. John smiled sadly,"Not all the time. "
There was quiet for awhile,John watching his son processwhat he witnessed,the loss,the struggle of feelings - Helpless. Sam grew sleepy and eventually crawled under the blankets on his own and fell into a sleep.
It was near midnight when Dean crawled down from is perch and onto his father's lap. Suddenly he felt so small,..a kid. A son sniffling and getting snots all overhis fathers plaid shirt, crying for a friend he would never see again.
Dean had cried himself into a deep sleep. Tucking him in beside Sam,John pulled up a chair and sat vigil at the bedside.
There were days on end where he would have to be brave and tough. Defend himself, defend his boys.
Scrubbing hands over his face, John sighed. Soon, he would have to teach Dean to be 'tough and brave'. He dreaded when that day would come,but it was going to happen.
John sat there,watching over his boys, the dark room the only witness to him not being brave or tough.