'Dad,' Dean exclaimed happily as the door flew open to reveal the tall, rugged figure of John Winchester.
'Boys,' John nodded, his eyes flickering around the room, looking for anything untoward, but all seemed well.
His sons were okay.
:
While Dean greeted his father contentedly, Sam's eyes remained fixed on the table where a shaky construction of string, cardboard and bits of plywood took pride of place.
'What's that,' John asked, giving the makeshift structure a superficial glance.
'School project' was the sullen reply.
'Yeah, well. It's gonna have to wait, Sam. Get your stuff together. We're leaving.'
:
Sam's skinny shoulders tensed like two guitar strings, but he didn't utter a word of protest. It would've been useless. His dad's orders were law, though that didn't stop a dismayed Dean from trying.
'Dad,' he pleaded quietly, grasping his father's coat-sleeve. 'Can't we stay another day. Sam's project is due tomorrow morning. He's worked his ass off building it.'
'Sorry, son. It's urgent we leave now. We've duties to perform which don't allow for personal activities.'' John replied before disappearing into the bathroom
:
'Sammy, I...'
'It's okay, Dean,' the eight-year old said in subdued tones. 'I had fun making it.'
Dean pulled Sam close and hugged him, his heart bleeding for his sibling's disappointment. 'It would've won first prize, kiddo. It's totally awesome.'
Sam remained silent but the older boy felt a dampness penetrate his shirt, and he held onto his little brother even tighter.