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It was almost five o'clock, and still John could not take his eyes off the futon where his sons slept. Sam was tangled in the sheets, head buried in his feather-pillow, mop of hair obscuring the little bit of his face showing. Dean was almost spread-eagled on top of the covers, and lying diagonally, head resting on one corner of Sam's pillow with an arm slung across his forehead.

John fondled Dean's cell phone, thinking. Unable to put it off any longer, he flipped it open and punched in the number he'd considered calling all night. It rang. And rang. Then picked up.

"Jim, it's me…yeah. Yeah, I'm okay, the boys are okay. Did- Dean ever call you? I told him when I left that you'd…uh-huh…oh." John adjusted his position on the barstool. "A red-eye, huh? That's interesting…No, I agree, better to leave the trail cold and let 'um move on. No good approaching a demon like that from the front…yeah, no, Dean's okay. They're both okay- they're…" John stared at the sleeping boys again. "They're just fine." John's hand clenched and loosened on the phone. He moved it to the left ear, cooling the right one. "Jim I've got some bad news. It's about Bill Harvelle…it's uh…well, it's hard to explain."

John stood up off the barstool, and began to pace, the emotion of the previous night catching up with him for the first time. "We were at the Devil's Gate Reservoir in Cali. He had a trap to set, asked for my help. Things uh…spun out of hand." John kneaded his forehead. His throat began to close. "Jim he's dead. I had no choice, he was…He's dead, Bill's dead." Neither of them spoke for awhile, and it was an uncomfortable silence. "I don't know what to…I have to call Ellen…yeah I know, but I can't drag the boys down to Nebraska right now…Jim, they need this. They need the break from moving around, and they need…just a few days, okay. Just two days without having to think about this stuff." John smiled ruefully at Jim's response. "Yeah. And me too." He searched the ceiling for resolve. "Jim I feel like a coward. But I can't face Ellen and tell her what happened, I can't…I don't want to see Joanna and know that I…what's happened to her daddy cause of me. It's just better this way. It's better them not knowing the whole truth." He took a deep breath. "Yeah…I know it. I know…Alright, Jim, you take care. Uh-huh. Buh-bye."

The sun began to rise about an hour later. John ducked out around six o'clock and returned twenty minutes later with groceries. He was pleased to see that the boys were still sound asleep.

Dean awoke to the refrigerator as usual. He swung his socked feet out of bed and stretched his sore limbs. His blue jeans had left little dents in his legs and cut off the circulation in his left knee, but after a few moments, he felt quite together and went into the kitchen, rubbing his porcupine hair.

John was there, sitting at the kitchen counter with a newspaper. When he saw Dean, he folded it and smiled. "Morning."

"Morning," Dean responded groggily, going to the cereal cupboard. He swung it open and paused. "Hey, where'd the Fruit Loops come from?"

John shrugged, opening his paper again. "Went to the store this morning, thought you boys could use the sugar." Dean raised his eyebrows. "You'll need the energy to help me fix up that room again. The bunk bed's gonna need repair."

"The other shoe," Dean sighed dramatically, popping the box open and digging out a handful of rainbow-colored O's. "What about school?"

"I think you two can play hooky for a day. But you, mister high school dropout, are going back to school after the weekend."

"I only dropped out so I could get a job," Dean pointed out defensively.

"Yes you did. But if your mom was here, she'd want you and your brother getting and education if at all possible."

"Yes sir," Dean muttered, grabbing a fresh fistful of Fruit Loops.

"Dean?" They both looked at the futon and saw the back of Sam's head just barely peeking over it. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and his messed-up hair. Then he turned and he saw John. He gasped. "Dad!" Sam bounded out of bed and into the kitchen. John dropped his newspaper and went at brisk walk to Sam, taking the boy's face in both his hands, examining his eyes, his hair, and his injuries. The obligatory health-and-emotion-check, Dean thought with a distant smile.

Sam braced himself for the demand, for an explanation or reprimand of some kind, but it didn't come. John smiled at him, running a thumb over the dried blood. "I missed you Sammy."

"I missed you too." And John hugged him. Both arms wrapped around him, one hand on the back of his head, he held him tight and then let go like he didn't want to.

"Let's go get you cleaned up."

"Okay," Sam replied, and followed John down the hallway.

Dean watched them go, munching absently on Fruit Loops, and felt a wave of inexpressible relief cover him. Like finding a happy ending to a story that seemed like it could only end badly. Like being cut loose from a horrible debt. Like…being happy again. Dean swallowed embarrassment that comes hand-in-hand with unbridled honesty. Right now, he was happy.

"Hey Dean!" He looked up to see Sam had come pell-mell back down the hallway.

"What?"

"Leave some Fruit Loops for me."

"Aw have a little faith." Dean dug into the box as though feeling the very bottom. "I think I've got…four? Five left? I'll save 'um for ya, don't worry."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Baby."

"Jerk."

Dean grinned. "Get lost, kid." Sam turned and pattered back to the bathroom. Dean took a seat with the box of Fruit Loops and began dropping them a pinch at a time into his bowl, listening to the high little, plink plink as they hit the sides. In the bathroom, he could hear John and Sam's voices resonating faintly.

"Alright, lemme see this-"

"Hss- ow!"

"Okay, okay…"

"Ow ow ow-"

"Hold still."

…plink plink plink…

"Ah- it stings."

"It's Bactine; it'll cool off in a sec. Just hang in there, okay?"

"'kay."

…Plink plink plink…

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to tell me about what happened?"

…Plink plink…

"No. I'm…I'm fine, Dad, don't worry. It's okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Plink plink…

"So you're okay now."

"I'm okay now."

"Good. Let's get you a Band-Aid."

Dean popped the last Fruit Loop into his mouth and pounded it between his front teeth, coating the crevices in lime-green powder. He licked them clean and sat back in his chair, listening to the bathroom sink run. "That's my boy, Sammy."