I don't own what you recognize.
Looking at the calendar, John inwardly cringed. Valentine's Day, February fourteenth. Mary had hated the holiday, mostly because she was allergic to roses but she swore up and down that that had nothing to do with it. John would nod along and would send her sunflowers on February thirteenth, then he would swear up and down it was 'just because' and not because of Valentine's Day.
He returned his attention to his journal. After writing for a few minutes he glanced at the clock, 2:37 AM. Damn, was he tired. Closing the leather bound journal, John turned off the small lamp and went to bed after checking the salt lines and making sure his sons were sleeping.
The next morning he awoke to a quiet shuffling. John's hand silently slid up under his pillow and gripped the gun he'd had for years.
"Daddy!"
John relaxed and removed his hand from under the pillow.
"Sammy, Dad's sleeping. Leave 'im alone."
"But—"
"Give it to him later, Squirt."
"I'm not a squirt, dumbo!"
"Whatever you say Princess Samantha."
"Dean!"
"Sam!"
"Boys!" John had finally had enough. It was—he looked at the clock—seven in the freaking morning and he had had a rough hunt the night before, seven in the freaking morning was not the time for his boys to be arguing and—
"Look what I made you at school!" Sam's excited face popped into view. Well, there went his sleep. John pushed himself up and leaned against the headboard as Sam crawled onto the bed. The six year old was small for his age but still had an endless amount of energy. Sam handed his father a small red card. "Do you like it?"
John looked at the card and wasn't sure if he was looking at a heart drawing or a picture of meatloaf. He opened it up and tried to read the illegible words, throwing a quick glance to his oldest. Dean shrugged, he wasn't completely sure what the words said either. John nodded when he set his attention on the six year old staring at him intensely, eagerly. "I love it, Sammy. Thanks."
Sammy grinned widely, "Miss Powell said we could make cards for whoever we wanted so I made one for you and for Dean but Dean's is pink because he called me a girl but Miss Powell and Cindy said pink wasn't always for girls and they said it was okay if I gave him a pink card because that was the only color besides red and yours was already red—"
It still amazed John how the boy could say so much without taking a breath. He sent another look at the calendar, this time he didn't cringe as much.
I don't 'believe/support' Valentine's Day but this went into my head and wouldn't go away. I thought it was just a cute little one-shot from John's POV since I never write from his POV. Reviews keep me breathing! Actually, oxygen does but reviews are the second best thing!