Just over a week later, they were packed up and back on the road. John sat, steering wheel in hand, with Sam next to him in the front seat. The only sounds came from the roaring of the engine of the 67 Impala and the low hum of Led Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven playing through the speakers. John had just wrapped up his latest hunt and it was time to move on. He had already found his next case, but had decided it was time that Sam had a break. The young boy was obviously clueless to what John actually did for a living and he wanted to keep it that way as long as possible. He had subtly started teaching him how to handle himself when the inevitable time came for Sam to start hunting; taking him for shooting lessons, teaching him how to draw sigils and devils traps - albeit in crayon but at least he would be prepared. For now, though, Sam had been on the road long enough and it only felt fair to give him a vacation of sorts.

Singer salvage wasn't exactly the top vacation spot in the country, but for them it was as good as any. They rolled into the yard just as the sun was setting, a sleepy eyed Sam struggling to stay awake. "C'mon kiddo" John nudged him gently "Time to go and see uncle Bobby" Sam yawned and rubbed his eyes, mumbling almost unintelligibly.
"Okay Dean, we're here…"
"No, Sammy, it's Daddy" John frowned, getting out of the car and walking around to the other side to lift Sam into his arms. Sam laid his head on his dad's shoulder as they walked round to the house. The crunch of gravel under John's feet only interrupted by loud, angry barking coming from Bobby's truck.
"Shut it, ya mangy mutt." Bobby grunted as he walked down his porch steps towards the pair approaching him. The German Shepherd known as Carter soon settled when he knew there was no danger and sat back at his post on guard duty. Bobby stood aside, patting John on the back as the Winchester walked past to bring his son into the house and settle him down on the sofa where he could sleep. John sat by his feet, and brushed the long brown bangs out of Sam's face. He was fast asleep, breathing heavily, and, squirmed as his dad stood up. John stopped and stared at him for a moment, in case he'd woken him, but he slept straight on. Once he knew Sam was okay, he headed straight for the kitchen, specifically the fridge to grab himself a beer.

"That's fine, just help ya self" Bobby scoffed sarcastically, yet gestured for John to pass him a bottle too. They drank in silence for a moment as John took a seat at the table in the middle of the room. He put his hand over his mouth and drew it down, rubbing his stubble, before sighing. Taking another swig of his drink, he could feel Bobby's eyes watching him. The elder man scoffed, adjusting himself as he leaned on the counter "C'mon, spit it out." John's eyes looked up as Bobby spoke, meeting the other man's. "What's going on with you and that kid?"
"Not now, Bobby. We just got here."
"And I know that look. You ain't planning on sticking around." John Sighed again, Bobby was right. He was planning to be back on the road again by morning, if not before. In his mind, the earlier the better.
"There's nothing going on, Bobby."
"Hell there ain't! I know those looks you're giving me, and I can tell when there's something wrong with that boy whether he's sleeping or not. That face of yours says it all." He sighed "Whether he's alright or not you ain't, and that way you were looking at him when you laid him down? Something's gone on." He paused "This about Dean?" John swallowed hard, looking back down to the table and shifting in his seat. At the mention of Dean's name, the tension in the room seemed to rise almost as quickly as the colour drained from Johns already sickly, tired looking face. The silence between the two men was anxious and impatient, putting a pressure on the Winchester man that would seem to either force him to speak or eventually choke him.
"And Mary." The answer was short and urgent, almost trying to avoid the question.
"This ain't just that. You've been shooting for revenge for almost the past 6 god damn years and-"
"Sam doesn't understand." He looked up, and cleared his throat "He doesn't get it. His mother? He doesn't seem to have a problem with that but-"
"John, that boy was six months old. He never had a Dean to know, to understand that Dean was there." Bobby cut him off, as had been done to him a moment earlier. "You tellin' him stories, of course he's gonna be going through some shit. Alone on the road out there ain't no life for a kid like that. You know I respect you, John and I will do my damn best to support you and especially that boy, but don't go taking it out on him cause he's lonely and feeding off some happy ending you been telling him"
"Not this again, Bobby." John's tone grew agitated. They had discussed this far too many times already, and John did not want to talk about it, not right now. Okay, being a hunter wasn't an ideal life for a child like Sam, but what other choice did he have? He was doing fine so far. He was a little quiet, but apart from that Sam was as normal a kid as any. "As for that happy endings bullshit?" He sighed, before explaining exactly what had been happening. For months now, Sam had been muttering Dean's name-sometimes talking as if Dean was actually there.
"He's just a kid. He needs his father. He needs ya to-"
"I think it's best to leave him here for the next few days, a week or two tops." John interjected in an attempt to change the subject. He swallowed, and watched as an angry disappointment set into Bobby's features. There was a harsh pause before his face softened again, after obviously deciding to let the previous subject drop, and John could continue. "Let me finish off my next case, give him a break. Maybe some decent food for a change."
"Don't know if i'd call what i'm serving up decent to a kid" He smiled slightly, as he stood up straight and placed his now empty beer bottle in the trash.. "Never gonna say no to having that boy, but you're the only blood he got left. Always said that family don't end with blood, but sometimes blood is just the family ya need the most. Don't forget that, Winchester." With that, he vanished upstairs for a second, giving John time to think. He returned with a blanket, which he carefully placed over the sleeping Sam on the couch, before going back to the kitchen. "You know where blankets are if you need em'. Spare rooms free but that boys exhausted, I'm not risking waking him. Get some sleep. You probably got a long journey ahead of ya."
"Will do, Bobby." John nodded, and raised his hand a little off the table in a small salute as Bobby disappeared back up the stairs. John took a final heavy sigh, finishing off his beer before deciding it was also probably a good idea to retire for the night. He settled himself on the floor in the study next to Sam's couch, and was asleep only moments after closing his eyes. The next morning when Sam woke up, tucked under the covers of the bed in Bobby Singer's spare room- an empty beer bottle left on the kitchen table and Impala tracks on the dirt driveway outside were the only signs that John Winchester had ever been there that night…