DISCLAIMER

Supernatural belongs to the WB, which will soon be the CW. I only own anything you don't recognize.

Hours later at the camp site, John watched as his sons sparred as he cooked hotdogs over a fire. A soft smile came to his features as the boys mock-fought. He heard their karate yells and shook his head. At least Sammy looked more relaxed. He had been so tense lately. And it had nothing to do with hunting. Suddenly, a burnt smell reached his nostrils.

"Uh, boys?" he called, just a bit sheepishly. The two turned towards their father. "Dinner's ready," he announced holding out a burned sausage. Sam and Dean were laughing as they walked up.

"Dad, you can barely work a toaster. What made you think you could cook a hotdog?" Sam wondered.

"Well, it's better than what happened the last time we went camping," Dean stated.

"Why? What happened?" Sam wondered. He didn't remember any other camping trips. Just training exercises with military rations.

"Oh, yeah. You were just a baby when we went camping last," Dean remembered.

"I was?" Sam queried. Had this been when Mom was still alive?

"Yeah, I remember that trip. Mary was worried that the campfire would make Sammy too hot," John recalled.

"Really?" Sam asked. Seeing that his youngest was truly interested, John decided to continue with his story.

"Yeah. She was all, 'John, don't get him too close to the fire. He could get flushed'," John mimicked. Dean chuckled softly. He remembered that. She had been so worried. And Dad had just played it off.

"Oh, she sure doted on you," John murmured. Sam's throat muscles constricted.

"She did?" he questioned.

"Oh, yeah, Sammy. She loved bein' a mom. No doubt about it," Dean confirmed. Sam sighed heavily. He wished he was able to remember her.

"Didn't Mom have this song she used to sing?" Dean questioned.

"Yeah, she did," John answered. He frowned in concentration. What had the song been? It was so long, he wasn't that he remembered it. Then, it hit him. Without warning, he began to hum. Concerned, Sam and Dean stared at each other. He wasn't gonna---was he? Their dad was a lot of things, but a good singer wasn't one of them. Their fears were founded.

"No. No, no, no, no. Dad, don't---" Dean's protest fell on deaf ears as their father began to sing loudly. And off-key. Sam and Dean placed their fingers in their ears, trying to block out the noises.

"This is your fault," Sam growled.

"Bite me," Dean snapped back.