Title: Butterfly, Fly Away

Summary: Sam and Dean relive the best moments of their time with John as they say good-bye.

Disclaimer: I don't own show or characters. I don't make money off of this story or songs.

Butterfly, Fly Away

Sam walks down the hallway with the cup of coffee John asked for, just as he liked it. He was debating on how to ask for John's forgiveness on running away to Stanford and leaving him and Dean behind. He wanted to make a fresh start with his brother and father now. No more running away, no more tug-of-war. He was running with the family now.

Something caught his eye and he turned to look to see his father collapsed on the floor.

"Dad?" he said in shock. He dropped the cup and ran to his father's side. "Help! Somebody, help!"

Hours later Sam and Dean watch as John's body burned, respecting their father's wishes and cremated him. It was kind of symbolic in a way. Mary died in a fire and John wanted to be cremated, like he wanted to connect with her a final time.

Sam went back to years ago when he was still just a child. Back then he thought monsters where things of a child imagination. His father stayed longer back then, wanting to make sure his sons stayed safe.

Say your prayers little one Don't forget, my son To include everyone Tuck you in, warm within Keep you free from sin Till the sandman he comes Sleep with one eye open Gripping your pillow tight

"Daddy, tuck me in!" said little Sammy as he ran toward his father. They were staying in a small camper their father rented for the summer in Arizona. The days were scorching hot and Sam and Dean were grateful for the pool that was open in the afternoons till late evenings. Fans were on in every room and Dean was currently lounging in front of one blowing a blast of icy air from the ice bucket in front of it.

"All right," said John picking up his youngest. "Tuck you in and you go to sleep."

"Story! Story!" said Sammy. "I want story."

"About what?" asked John tucking his son into the pull out couch bed. "Do you want the one about the werewolf or the witch?"

"I want one about Mommy," said Sammy clutching Yogi, the stuffed bear he always brought with him.

"For God's sake, Sammy!" yelled Dean. "It won't make a difference stories you hear. Mom's not coming back…"

"Dean!" snapped John. "Sammy's only five. It won't do any harm for him to know his mother. Go check the lines." Dean growled and around checking the windows and door. John turned back to Sammy. "All right there, Sammy?"

"Why does Dean hate Mommy," asked Sammy in a low voice, Yogi covering his face as he stared at his brother in a frightened voice.

"Dean doesn't hate her," said John. "He just…He just misses her."

Sammy stared at his father for a moment. "You miss Mommy too, Daddy?" he asked. John nodded.

"Yes, Sammy. I miss her very much." Sammy thought for a moment and pressed Yogi in his father's hands. "Sammy, why are you giving me Yogi?"

"So you won't be sad anymore," said Sammy. "No more crying, Daddy."

John softly smiled at his son. "Thank you, Sammy. Now how about that story?"

"All right," said Sammy and snuggled into his blankets. John settled back and cleared his throat to start the story. In the kitchen are Dean sat at the table with his back turned, but his attention solely on his father.

"Once up on a time there was a woman named Mary, and she was the prettiest girl in Lawrence. All her life she wanted a family and one day she met a man named John…."

Something's wrong, shut the light Heavy thoughts tonight And they aren't of Snow White Dreams of war, dreams of liars Dreams of dragon's fire And of things that will bite Sleep with one eye open Gripping your pillow tight

Dean looked over at his brother as the flames consumed his father's corpse. John was the only parent his brother ever knew, never knowing what Mary was like before she died. It had been the hardest decision John had ever made to bring his sons along with him to hunt the thing that had killed her.

Eight year old Dean watched as his father paced the room, a book in hand and muttering to himself. He had never seen his father act like this, not even when his mother died. It had only been two years but in that time little Dean watched his father fall deeper and deeper in himself, hardly leaving the house and constantly calling all of Mary's old friends. From what Dean knew John had finally called up one that could answer some of their questions. A man named Daniel Elkins. Now John was walking back and forth, rubbing his head and muttering to himself.

"Dad, what's wrong," asked Dean walking up to his father. John looked up at him in surprise.

"Dean, how long have you been standing there?"

Dean shrugged. "You look upset. What's wrong?"

John sighed and went to his oldest son. "You should be in bed."

"Dad…."

John sighed and knelt next to Dean. "Son, how would you feel if I moved? Around? A lot?"

"You're going to find it, aren't you?" asked Dean. "The thing that killed Mom. That tried to hurt Sammy."

"Why do you say that, Dean?" asked John.

"You mutter when you think aloud." Dean smiled at his father and John smiled back.

"I guess I do. I just don't know if I should take you and Sammy along, Dean. It won't exactly be the life of a child. There will be very few toys, television, we'll have no home…."

"But we'll be together," said Dean.

"I just want you safe. If I put you in a foster home, in someone else care then…."

"We won't be together. I want us together. I'll take care of Sammy while you're away. I want us together."

John sighed and nodded. "There'll be some things I have to teach you. How to shoot for one, but you have to do exactly as I say. No going against the rules. You'll still go to school, but you'll either be ahead or behind. Just do the best as you can."

Dean nodded. "Okay, Dad," he said. John smiled at him.

"Okay."

"Daddy?" Dean and John looked over at the stairs to see little Sammy walking down with a stuffed rabbit clutched in his hands. "I had a bad dream. Can I sleep with you?"

"Sure, Sammy," said John and smiled at Dean. "What do you say, Dean? Want to sleep with your old man tonight?"

"You ain't old, Dad," said Dean smiling at him. John smiled at him, picked Sammy up as he placed a hand on Dean's shoulder and they walked up to his room, Sammy already half asleep on his shoulder.

Hush little baby, don't say a word And never mind that noise you heard It's just the beast under your bed, In your closet, in your head

They didn't leave till it burned to ashes. In a jar they gathered as much as they could and Dean placed John's wedding ring on top of the pile. They tightened the lid on and they watched the sun rise above the tree tops.

"Bobby put Dad's truck up for sale," asked Sam without looking at his brother.

"Yeah," said Dean. "A truck in that good of a condition would sell for quite some cash. I told him that he could keep Dad's gear."

Sam nods. "Okay." This time he did look at his brother. "So, what now?"

"We move on." Dean looked over at his brother. "We keep doing what Dad wants us to do."

"The family business," asked Sam looking down at John's journal in his hands. He had thought about throwing it in the fire along with their father's body, but it was something that had been John's. It seemed like a horrible thing to just throw it away.

"Yeah. The family business."

They both looked over at the burning ashes as they flew in the slight wind. When the sun had fully risen Sam turned back to his brother.

"I heard about a few murders in San Antonio. Worth checking out."

"I'm not doing any hunting till my car's fixed," said Dean walking back to John's truck, his father's ashes tucked under his arm.

"We still have one stop to make," said Sam as he slide into the passenger seat. Dean set the jar firmly in a cup holder and turned on the ignition.

"Yeah," said Dean. "We can do that when we're in the area. No need to waste gas. It is a long way to Kansas."

Sam nodded and agreement and looked ahead as Dean drove.

Exit light Enter night Grain of sand Exit light Enter night Take my hand We're off to never, never land

END

-The title of the story comes from the song "Butterfly, Fly Away" sung by Miley Cyrus and her father, Billy Ray Cyrus. The lyrics come from parts of the song "Enter Sandman" by Metalica.