Summary: John is reminded of the one thing he should be seeing in his sons all the time. Hurt Dean and hurt Sammy with added Papa Winchester angst.

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Sometimes out of the blue he was reminded that he needed to look for it but most days it was forgotten, until that night.

It was a simple hunt, or at least that was how it started. A little research, a little grave digging, a little salt and burn, that's all it was suppose to be. To bad the spirits had other ideas. What John had no way of knowing was that the grave they were digging did not contain the body of one, but the bodies of several murdered people, all seeking revenge on the person responsible for their deaths. John had done what he thought was the necessary research. Only one news account about a young man missing and not a word about the other 5 people they found when they opened the unmarked grave.

They were attacked almost immediately. The spirits now released started taking their revenge on the three people closest to their remains. John still deep inside the grave found himself battling not one but two angry spirits while the remaining four attacked Sammy and Dean up above.

Sammy took one out quickly while Dean, desperate to help both his brother and his father, fought hard at the edge of the grave. He was able to get off a couple shots of rock salt at the two fighting his father and was trying to reload when he felt his body being lifted up and tossed several feet in the air.

The sound of Dean crying out and then the silence made John's blood chill as he desperately scrambled to get out of the grave and help his sons fight off their attackers. John came out shooting and was able to take two more out as Sammy took aim at the one closest to him and missed.

His gun now needing a reload, Sammy was forced to use it like a bat against the remaining spirits. John knew he had to help his youngest son but at the same time, he knew it was up to him to light the bones on fire. Sammy saw his father reaching desperately for the can of rock salt, and the lighter fluid knowing he had to give his father time to do the necessary deed.

Sammy struggled and found himself knocked down to the ground. One of the spirits grabbed his shotgun, and was pressing against his neck, while the other went back after John. Finally John lit the grave and the two remaining spirits disappeared. As Sammy laid there gasping for breath, John raced over to him checking him over immediately for injuries while the grave burned brightly behind them.

"Dean…" Sammy said, still gasping for breath. John immediately turned around and searched for Dean in the darkness. He found him laying in a heap several feet away, blood pouring freely from a gash on his forehead. He moaned as John rolled him over.

"Dean!" John said leaning anxiously over Dean as he struggled to regain consciousness. Dean blinked his eyes several times before finally opening his hazel eyes and trying to sit up.

"Easy son." John said leaning Dean against a nearby headstone, fingers probing the gash. Dean winced and John instantly pulled his fingers away.

"How many fingers am I holding up Dean?" John asked holding up two fingers. Dean was forced to blink several more times before he was able to get his eyes to focus.

"Two." He finally answered. John gave Dean a weak smile and was relieved to see it returned. Sammy dropped down at Dean's side, breathless and anxious to see if his brother was okay.

"Dean, oh my god are you alright?" Sammy asked, his voice still a little horse from the attack and the billowing smoke which was now surrounding them.

"Yeah Sammy." Dean said reaching up to examine the bruising starting around Sammy's neck.

"We've got to get out of here." John ordered offering his hand to help Dean up. Dean grasped it and let John pull him to his feet. Still woozy, he wobbled a bit and Sammy put his arm around his brother and the three of them headed for the car.

John got in the drivers seat after dumping their stuff in the trunk and sped out of the cemetery without another glance. A few miles down the road, still somewhat shaken by what had just happened, John looked in the rearview mirror at the boys sitting close to each other in the backseat. Sammy still wide eyed and frightened, returned John's look before turning to adjust the gauze bandage he had wrapped around Dean's head. Dean himself was staring off into the distance seemingly unaware of the unspoken conversation that was about to start between his brother and his father.

When Sammy caught his father's eyes again, it was to give him an accusing look, which John acknowledged with a silent nod. He was to blame. Both boys could have died tonight and there wasn't a single person John could blame but himself. Scolding himself silently, John told himself there would be plenty of time for recriminations later. Right now he had to find them a motel room for the night and check the boys thoroughly for injuries besides the obvious ones he had seen back in the cemetery. Sammy was sure to be sore, but it was Dean he was most worried about.

During the ride Sammy was hard pressed to keep his older brother awake. Several times John could hear Sam pleading with Dean and he would wait, holding his breath, for Dean to answer.

Finally John spotted a Motel 6 and pulled into its parking lot. Taking one last look in the backseat he was shocked to see how demoralize both boys looked. How had he missed the dark circles under both their eyes and the presence of utter desolation emanating from their young faces? He wondered if they saw the same look on his face that night. With guilt he knew he owed them both so much more in their lives. There should be joy and not pain in their eyes. Happiness and not sorrow in their hearts. Anticipation and not fear on their minds.

He cursed once again that he was forced to put his children through this life when they should have been enjoying what all teenagers did at that age. At 17 and 13 the boys had seen far more than their share of horrors and it was sadly clear now it was beginning to take its toll. John made silent vow to give his children the kind of life they truly deserved. Sadly it was a vow he would not be able to keep.

They took turns sitting up with Dean throughout the night even though he initially fought them on it. John sat off to the side cleaning their weapons during his watch. Sammy took his turn sitting next to Dean on his bed watching what ever nonsense was on late night television, until exhausted, he fell asleep. It was the middle of the night when John got up to take his turn again and saw Sammy asleep on Dean's shoulder. Still awake, Dean looked up as his father came closer. John came over to the side of the bed and was about to move Sammy over to the other bed when Dean stopped him.

"Don't bother Dad." Dean said with a whisper. "The kid just fell asleep and I'd hate to wake him up now."

"You need to get some sleep yourself Dean. You got hurt today and I don't want him keeping you up." John said checking the gash on Dean's head.

"He won't Dad, besides I kinda like knowing he's close by, you know, so I can keep an eye on him. He really got freaked out today, so if it's okay with you can he just stay in my bed?" Dean looked over at his brother before looking back up at John. John nodded back silently.

"Okay but next time I check in on you two I expect you to be asleep as well. No more watching this crap on TV. Sleep, that's an order."

"Yes sir." Dean answered settling in against the pillow he had propped up behind his back.

True to his word John continued to check in on his boys. It was then that he saw it. Long gone from their faces John almost missed it. Leaning against each other asleep, just they had done so many times when they were younger, they looked so peaceful, and so innocent. John held the moment a little longer, taking the snapshot in his mind, before going back to the kitchen with a heavy heart to start researching their next hunt.

The end