Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

NOTE TO READERS: I haven't decided how long this story is going to be, and what I'd like to do and what I'm going to be able to do may be vastly different. All do in part to life. However, I will try to not make you wait too long between updates, and hopefully I'll be able to give you the story in its entirety and not some shortened version just in order to finish and not leave a story lingering out there for readers.

Also, as a reminder when there are grammatical errors in dialogue, and it's Sam's … I know they are there, and they are intentional… he has a speech deficit. Also, I write dialogue in a casual spoken form of language that often sounds like slang. So, when I say something like, "you got enough" or a similar truncated speech pattern that appears grammatically incorrect it is intentional. And, yes, sometimes as I write in haste to get a chapter posted you may encounter the errant comma here and there or missing all together, well … I can only proof read so much, and sometimes mistakes will make their way through. I'm not perfect.

And, I wanted to say a BIG thank you to everyone that takes the time to review when you're finished reading. I appreciate it.

Chapter Sixteen

Mending

By Dawn Nyberg

"…Through all the happiness and sorrow, I guess I'd do it again. Live for today and not tomorrow. It's still the road that never ends…" Excerpt by Ozzy Osbourne, Road to Nowhere

October 31, 2007, Halloween

Dean came into the kitchen through the door from the garage and tossed his keys into a basket on the counter. "Hey, Lucy …I'm home," he did his best Ricky Ricardo imitation. He spotted two bags of candy on the counter near the fridge and picked them up looking at them. One bag was peanut butter cups, and the other mini candy bar assortments.

"Don't get any ideas," John said as he walked into the kitchen. He was glad that Dean had felt well enough to return to work a week ago, and he could see the healthy color back in his son's cheeks. "That candy isn't for us."

"Then whose it for?" Dean eyed the candy bars. There was a Hershey bar with is name on it, and he wanted one.

"The kids," John answered absently as he opened a cabinet and pulled a box of spaghetti out. "We're having pasta tonight," John commented. "What kind of sauce do you want? Meat or Mushroom?" Dean was still trying to figure out the kids remark.

"What kids? Last time I checked it's just us."

"Trick or Treat," John remarked. "It's tonight from 6:00 to 8:00 and we live in the middle of suburbia Dean it's a given." Dean looked at his father as if he'd just sprouted horns and cloven hooves. "What?" He looked at his son with a dead pan expression.

"Who are you and what have you done with my father?"

"Well, we can't very well turn off the porch light and not answer the door. It's two hours," John replied. "It won't kill us."

"It might," Dean suggested. "Tons of screaming kids begging for a sugar fix." Dean glanced at the bags of candy. "This enough?"

"It'll be fine Dean," John assured.

"Where's Sammy?" Dean asked as he realized his kid brother hadn't made his way into the kitchen yet.

"In his room," John answered. "He's in a bit of a snit or something. He wouldn't tell me what it was about."

"Well, did something happen at the library today?" Dean cast a worried glance toward the other side of the house.

"I asked him," John countered. "He told me the library was fine. He's been quiet and moody all day Dean. Maybe he'll talk to you."

"Yeah, maybe," Dean agreed. He started to leave the kitchen.

"Hey," John called out.

"Yeah?" Dean said turning.

"You never answered," John said as he held up to jars of sauce. "Meat or Mushroom?"

"Sammy hates mushrooms dad."

"Damn, that's right," John groused. "Okay, meat. You know…" he began before Dean left. "If you hadn't gone on and on about them being fungus when he was six he would have never stopped eating them." Dean smiled. He and his father hadn't reached a complete truce, but they had some common ground and things were good, as much as Dean hated to admit that … they were good. His dad had stuck around when he was sick and had been there for him and Sam. He still didn't trust that he wouldn't up and leave, but at least for now he was here.

John went about cooking up some dinner for himself and the boys. Dean walked toward Sam's closed bedroom door. Dean knocked quietly. "Sammy?" No answer.

"Sammy, can I come in?" Again, silence was his only answer. He put his hand on the door knob and tried to turn it. It was locked. Okay that's new, Dean thought to himself. Sam had never locked his door since moving into the house, and now he apparently wanted to keep the world out. "Hey, Sammy," Dean spoke a little louder. "What's with the locked door, huh? Come on let me in." He paused for a moment. "You okay? It couldn't be that bad." Dean put his ear against the door and listened. He didn't hear anything on the other side … no rustle of paper or the springs in the bed moving it was quiet, too quiet.

"Okay Sammy!" Dean raised his voice. "You're startin' to worry me. Open the door!"

John heard the urgent timbre in his son's voice and turned the sauce down on the stove and went to see what was wrong. "Dean? What's wrong?"

"He's not answering and the door's locked." Dean's eyes were wide with alarm. "Sam, I'm not kidding man … either open up or I'm kicking the damn door in."

"Sammy? Son? It's dad," John spoke to the door. "Come on and open up." There was no reply.

"That's it," Dean stepped back to kick it open and John stopped him with the simple raise of a hand. "What?" Dean hissed. "Something's wrong."

"He'll come out when he's ready," John answered.

"Are you kidding me? He's not answering and the doors locked. I'm not going to sit around to see if you're right. He could be in there turning blue for all I know." John understood Dean's alarm because he felt it too.

"Sam?" John spoke gently and evenly. "I'll tell you what," he suggested. "Just tell us you're all right and we'll leave you alone, okay? And, if you want … we'd like to see you for dinner at 5:00 in the kitchen." Dean looked at his father like he was nuts. In his head he had all ready concocted a medical crisis for his brother. All he saw on the other side of the door was his brother unable to speak and turning blue. John could almost read his oldest son's thoughts and he raised a single finger indicating to wait, and then it happened.

"I'm fine," the voice was quiet, but unmistakably Sam's voice.

"Okay, Sammy," John spoke softly. "Will we see you at 5:00?"

"Yeah," quietly made it through the door.

"Okay, kiddo," John answered. "We'll see you then." He paused. "Do you need anything?"

"No."

"All right, see you in a bit."

John motioned Dean out into the family room. "Just let him be Dean. He obviously wants to be alone, and he's entitled to his privacy."

"Dad, you know it's different with Sammy. He's got a seizure disorder that could escalate, and it's just different …" Dean's voice trailed off.

"And, I think he knows that Dean," John suggested. "Look, he hasn't had a break through seizure since he went on his medication, so don't go looking for problems. If it's not broke … don't fix it. He's a smart kid and knows we treat him with kit gloves most of the time like he's a little boy still, but you and I both have to remember that he's a grown man."

"I know, but it's…" Dean rubbed a frustrated hand through his hair.

"It's harder to let go of the memories of him being hurt and helpless," John suggested.

"Yeah," Dean reluctantly admitted.

"It's the same for me too Dean. But, when I see him I'm either torn between seeing my little boy still in overall's playing in the mud or I see him staring at the walls blank and he's not there. I think he just wants some of his independence back, and I think we have to give it back to him or at least on some level."

"Yeah, you're right, but I worry ya know? Sammy can walk and talk now Dad, but there's things he still doesn't understand and I just feel like I gotta keep an eye on him."

"I know," John conceded. "But, we both gotta loosen the apron strings on him."

"Loosen, huh? Not cut?"

"Yeah, well, I doubt that'll ever happen," John answered. "But, more loose I think we can both manage. Agreed?"

"How about I agree to try?"

"Works for me," John smiled.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Dean and John both tried to engage Sam in conversation by asking him about the library and how his day had gone, but Sam responded with simple one and two words replies. It was obvious that he didn't want to be social tonight. "Sam?" John broke the moment of silence. His youngest son looked up from his plate. He still had difficulty with utensils, but John had solved that by buying silverware with a wider and not so refined grip area. Sam still couldn't manage the fine motor skills required to hold a knife and cut, so either John or Dean would cut up food for him when needed. Sam hated it.

"Yes?"

"I thought you could hand out candy to the kids tonight for trick or treat," John suggested. Sam shook his head.

"Well, I think it'll be good for you, and you like kids. Of course, I could stick Dean on kid duty."

"What? NO way!" Dean chimed in. "Hey, you bought the candy why aren't you doing it. I mean … since when did we become the Norman Rockwell family anyway? We don't do holidays, and we never did Halloween." John gave his son an exasperated look.

"Hey, you used to love trick or treat when you were a kid," John commented. Me and your mom…" John's voice died off at the mention of his wife. Dean looked stricken as his father stared at his plate of pasta with haunted eyes. The table was quiet.

Sam never really cared for Halloween, but he'd rather face those kids instead of watching his brother try the task.. "I'll do it," Sam answered quietly. "Dean would eee…eat all the ccc…can…dy any…way and scare the kkk…kids."

"Would not," Dean rebutted.

"Would too," Sam countered. "Mean and sur…sur…ly." John laughed and both boys looked at their father.

"He's got a point Dean," John offered with a look of amusement.

"What? He's callin' me mean and surly, and you're agreeing with him," Dean feigned being hurt. "I'm not," he grumbled under his breath. "I like kids … I do," Dean added when he saw the look both his brother and dad gave him. "Hey, what about Lucas? Huh? I think I proved I like kids." Sam nodded. John felt out of the loop on this one.

"Who's Lucas?"

"Huh?" Dean said looking at his dad. "Oh, yeah, I guess you wouldn't know," he commented realizing that he had no idea about their lake adventure. "It was a job we went on last year," he answered. "An angry spirit in the lake was drowning people in the lake or wherever the lake water could go."

"Hmm… sounds like it was an interesting job. You boys got the spirit?"

"Ah, well, it kind of got what it was after and went away." Dean answered. "Long story."

"And, Lucas?"

"Just a kid we helped out," Dean replied. "Him and his mom." John nodded and looked at his watch.

"Well, we better finish with dinner pretty soon because that doorbell is going to start ringing."

Dean and John watched Sam from the family room where they were watching a college football game on the TV. It seemed the young man was coming out of his shell from earlier with each little kid that came to the door. Dean listened to his brother talk to the newest arrivals with a smile as did John.

"Oh, Darth Va…der, huh? How old are you?"

"Five," a little young voice answered.

"Wow, that big, huh?"

"My sister is a punkin' see…" the little boy turned and pointed to his infant sister in a stroller dressed as a tiny orange pumpkin with a green stem hat to finish the costume off. She looked about seven months old and seemed very interested in all of the strange creatures and fairy princesses walking past her stroller.

"I see," Sam answered with a smile.

Finally, Dean and John heard the door close a few minutes after eight as they each drank a cold beer having finished the college game on the TV and finding something else to watch on ESPN. Sam walked into the family room with an empty candy bowl. "So, the little vultures cleaned you out," Dean commented. "Man, and you didn't set anything aside," he complained. "Geez, what a way to treat your bro…" his little tirade was ended abruptly by getting smacked in the side of his head with a miniature Hershey bar.

John chuckled, "You were saying?" Dean's cheeks flushed slightly. Sam just stood there with an amused look on his face. Sam disappeared into the kitchen to put the bowl down and came back into the family room. He seemed to pace for a moment and then sat down looking at his family.

"Sammy? You okay?" Dean said sitting up from his lounging position. John clicked the TV off.

"What is it Sam?" John asked.

"I'm sss…sor…ry for to…night. I shouldn't have lll…locked the door. I know you both worry."

"It's okay Sammy," Dean countered quickly. "You can have your privacy. Dad and I talked and I guess we both have been a little … suffocating." He relented.

Sam smiled. "A little?" Dean and John both smiled.

"Okay, a lot," John conceded as he chimed in. "So, kiddo do you want to tell us what was wrong?"

"Stupid," Sam replied as he stared at his hands.

"Hey," John replied. "Don't say that okay? If it matters to you … whatever it is," he began. "Then it's not stupid, and your brother and I certainly aren't going to think it either." Dean nodded in agreement.

"So what's up Sammy?" Dean questioned. "Maybe Dad or me can fix it." Sam shook his head sadly.

"Wish that you could," he said simply. "It's just…"

"What?" Dean's eyes were serious as he leaned toward his brother that sat across from him.

"Jess," came his shaky reply and that was all either of the older Winchesters needed to hear.

"Oh, Sammy man … I can't believe I didn't remember. It was two years ago today that I showed up and hauled you to Jerrico to look for dad. I climbed in your window on Halloween."

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Last time I sss…saw her alive. Next time she was …" John stood up and walked over to Sam and took a seat right next to him. He put a comforting arm around his son's shoulders.

"It's okay Sammy," he comforted. "I know it's hard … I do." And both Sam and Dean knew their father was right … he did know and he understood this loss completely. Sam leaned into his father's comfort and in that moment the months that John Winchester had been gone didn't seem so important. He was here now and Sam let go of the little bit of anger he had kept silently to himself since his father returned. Sam allowed a slight smile to creep up at the edges of his mouth. Dean felt thankful for their father in that moment because he had been able to help Sam in a way he knew he could never truly understand his brother's loss the way his father could and did. However, the family had an anniversary coming up that they were all to familiar with and they'd be together for the first time in a long time to get through it.

November 2, 2007

Sam walked through the lobby of Ivy Ridge having just finished his out patient rehab for the day and he had tomorrow, too. Today, his session had ended a few minutes early and he sat in the lobby waiting for his brother to pick him up. There Dad had agreed to work an hour over and Dean would have to get Sam.

Sam knew what today was and it was an all around horrible day and he knew that his Dad and brother knew it too, but they hadn't said anything. Two years ago today you died Jess, Sam thought to himself and he stared at his hands as he fidgeted in his seat. And, Mom, it's been so long. Twenty-four years ago you died for me, Sam lamented. He lost track of time while he was lost in his own thoughts until his brother's voice and hand on his shoulder startled him out of his ruminations.

"Sammy?" Dean's concerned eyes met with his brother's distant ones. "I've been outside waiting for ten minutes. I had to park the car to come look for you."

"Sorry," he answered quickly.

"You okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, I was just lll…lost in thought."

"Apparently kiddo." Dean offered him a hand to stand and he took it. "So how did rehab go today?"

"Good."

"Man, Sammy don't talk all at once," Dean joked with is kid brother at his complete lack of elaboration. "Define good." Dean and Sam continued to walk out to the car in the parking lot.

"The same as usual Dean," Sam complained. "PT with Mel, and speech with April."

"No occupational?"

"Yes, I had to try a checkbook." Dean glanced at his brother not completely understanding what he was trying to say.

"Try a checkbook?" Dean remembered that as part of his brother's rehab he would be relearning certain life skills that his cognitive delays had affected.

"Write checks. Balance." Sam had reverted to his fragmented speech and Dean knew he was frustrated. "But I can't hold damn pen," Sam hissed. "Dar…lene had to and I told her what to write. She made me use cal…cu…lator, but buttons ttt…too small."

"Look Sammy I don't have a clue how hard this is, but I see what you go through. I know this isn't easy and that you want everything to be like it was, but things take time kiddo."

"Hate that I nnn…not under…stand. I know I know how …" he paused. "But it not come." Dean's heart ached for his little brother. He looked at Sam and saw the same little brother he had always known. The same brother he grew up with and the same one he had shared the road with hunting not so long ago, but somehow all of it seemed a lifetime ago when he really thought about it. And, no matter how much Sam was his Sammy there were differences that he couldn't ignore and unfortunately his little brother was beginning to notice his deficits more than he used to and it angered him.

"Sam," Dean began. "Every rehab and study time at home helps you get better. I know the changes don't seem like a lot to you or are too slow in happening, but believe me I was there when you were still fighting to come out of your coma completely," Dean took a breath. "I see how much your hard work has paid off and continues to. You just gotta be patient man." Sam ducked his head in acknowledgement. Dean was about to say something else when his cell phone rang. He saw the Caller ID and couldn't ignore it, Dad.

"Hey Dad?" Dean answered as he and Sam stood by the Impala. "Yeah, I'm just getting Sammy from rehab we're still at Ivy Ridge." Sam stood listening to one side of the conversation. "Yeah, okay," Dean's voice sounded hesitant. "Suits? What for?" Sam ears perked up toward his brother. His mind wondering what was his father was talking about on the other end of the cell phone. "Yeah, Sammy and I both do. Okay, we'll be home in twenty minutes or so. Okay, bye."

"What does dad want?" Sam asked slowly.

"Beats the hell out of me," Dean looked puzzled. "He wouldn't say. He just asked if you and I had suits. I told him yeah. He said to meet him at home and to get cleaned up and put on our suits."

"Why?" Sam looked as perplexed as his older brother.

"I just told you Sammy," Dean chided. "I don't know what he wants … he didn't say."

Both Winchester boys sat on the sectional couch in the family room as their father stood in front of them surveying them. John was clean and shaven and wearing something neither boy could readily remember ever seeing their father wear … a suit. Dean and Sam both wore dress pants and shirts with ties, and each wore a blazer. John wore black pants with a cobalt blue dress shirt and a tie with a black jacket.

"When did you get an outfit like that?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I kept it around for certain recon jobs … can't very walk into government facility or hospital wearing jeans and flashing a badge, at least not always," he said with a grin. "I could ask you boys the same thing."

"Work related," Dean said pulling on his tie. "So what are we in these monkey suits for?"

"We're going out to dinner and I made reservations," John commented. "Look, you boys know what today is, and so do I." John replied. Both boys looked at each other and then back to their father. "I want us to go out as a family tonight and do something for the three of us. It's a family dinner … it's not much, but it's better than a greasy spoon or eating here at home. I want to take my boys out for a nice dinner."

"Yeah, sure," Dean answered first. He couldn't deny the warm unfamiliar feeling in his gut. This moment was what he had wished for since confessing to Sam in Chicago. Sam looked at his father and his brother and could see the slow mending taking place in their relationship. There was still a lot of ground to be covered between Dean and their Dad, but tonight was a major move in the right direction.

"Yeah, Dad," Sam answered with a smile.

"So, where we eatin' at?" Dean asked. John smiled.

"I made us reservations at Houston's."

"You're kidding, really?" Dean's eyes got big. He had heard of that restaurant and their reputation preceded them when it came to their steak preparations. His mouth was watering just thinking about it.

"I'm not kidding," John answered. "I thought a classy steak place would wet your appetite."

"Oh, man, I got a T-Bone with my name on it and a big fat baked potato loaded with sour cream and butter. Mmm … Good."

"Come on boys," John urged. "Reservations are for 5:00." John watched his boys walk out the front door ahead of him, and he watched his son's and smiled. He felt completeness wash over him that he hadn't felt since Mary passed.

Houston's Restaurant

The food arrived and the table was filled with lively conversation. John noticed that as Dean talked to him and Sam was laughing about something his brother was saying that Dean was cutting Sammy's steak for him. It was automatic and he never skipped a beat while talking, and John was fascinated that Dean's apparent casual approach seemed to work because Sam either didn't notice or didn't care that his big brother was cutting his meat.

"So, dad how many days is the shop going to be closed for the holiday?" Dean asked. "I mean, Larry closing the shop for three days for us." John smiled at the notion of spending a holiday with his son's and actually observing it.

"Yeah, Dan is doing the same thing. We actually are getting off at 2:00 on the twenty-second. And, Thanksgiving is the following day. Hey, Sammy, you still have rehab on the twenty-second, right?"

"Yeah," he answered casually.

"Hey Sammy, I can drop you off that day, but maybe Dad can pick you up since he gets off earlier than me. Can you dad?"

"No problem. What? Larry keeping you a full day?"

"Not exactly … he's letting us go at 3:30, and it'd take me a while to get out to Elston to pick Sammy up, so…"

"Not a problem. You know Sam you're about due for your monthly report at the center. Dr. Myers likes to meet with us near the end of the month to discuss your rehab and progress."

"I know," Sam commented. "I need ttt…to make an app…appoint…ment."

"I can do that Sammy," Dean replied. "It's not a problem."

"I can do it," Sam countered. Dean caught his father's eyes and understood the unspoken dialogue.

"Sure thing Sammy. Maybe try to get an appointment for the week before the holiday. I think 4:00 oughta be good. I can leave work early. Just do it on a rehab day Sammy, and that way you finish at 3:30 and then the meeting will be right after." John nodded.

"Yeah, Dean and I will just drive together to get you and then we'll meet with Dr. Myers, sound good?"

"Yeah."

"Good." John smiled at his youngest son.

Dinner was relaxing and the conversation was jovial and tension free for a change. John was thankful for this quiet time. Today, wasn't a happy day for any member of this family, but they were getting through it as a family, and that was all that counted.

Thanksgiving Day, 2007

"God, Dad," Dean groused as his father stacked another container in his arms. "What did you get? It's just three of us. You feedin' the neighbors or something." John chuckled. He had preordered a Thanksgiving day dinner from a local grocery store knowing full well there was no way he and his boys were going to pull off anything as intricate a turkey without food poisoning. He was thankful that the store had offered holiday pick-up hours until 11:30 AM, so he had been able to pick it up still warm and ready to be eaten.

"Hey, as much as you two boys can eat you'd think I was running a free kitchen for all of Jefferson City."

"Ha-ha," Dean replied sarcastically. "What'd you order anyway?"

"It's Thanksgiving Dean," John answered lightly. "I ordered the standards." Dean could smell the hot turkey under his nose in a sealed tin-foil container.

"Is it a whole turkey?"

"Yeah, something they said would feed a family of four easily, so I figured it'd be enough, plus there are a lot of sides."

"Smells damn good," Dean commented his mouth watering.

"Where's your brother?"

"He was setting the table the last time I saw him."

"Well, come on the sooner we get the grub inside the sooner we can eat. I'm starved."

"You are? I haven't eaten at all today. I'm nearing malnourished." John chuckled as he followed his son in through the open kitchen door.

Dean and John both carried in containers and bags placing them down on the counters. Sam turned to look at them just as he finished putting down some paper napkins. John and Dean looked at Sam's handy work and smiled. "Looks good Sammy," Dean praised.

"Your brother's right Sammy. Nice job." John smiled warmly at his youngest son.

The went about opening containers and John transferred the dinner rolls to a basket that Sam had set out, and filled some bowls with the side dishes leaving the empty Styrofoam containers discarded on the counter in a brown paper bag.

Finally, everything was ready and they all sat down. Dean started to reach for a roll. "What are you doing?" John asked casually.

"Huh? I'm getting a roll." Dean answered looking at his father as if he were nuts because it was very obvious what he was doing.

"We should say grace." John replied. Dean was at a loss for words. He stared at his father dumbstruck trying to process what he knew he had heard. John smiled at his eldest son clearly in shock. "You might want to close that mouth before a bug flies in."

"Grace? Dad … when have we ever?" Dean finally found his voice.

"It just seems like the right thing to do Dean. I mean … we're all here together, and we're safe. We have a lot to be thankful this year; at least I know I do. Sam's recovery and your pneumonia …" he suggested.

"You coming bbb…back," Sam suggested with a lopsided grin. John smiled in return. He felt comforted by his youngest son's response.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Dean replied. "But, who's saying it? I don't have the first clue."

"Yeah, it's been a while for me too," John offered. "Hey, Sammy how about you say grace." Sam felt a mixture of emotions. He was pleased his dad would ask him to and mortified that he was asked to all at the same time.

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean encouraged.

"But, it might ttt…take for…ever to say," Sam spoke softly.

"We aren't going anywhere kiddo," John assured.

"The food will ggg…get cold," Sam replied with an embarrassed smile.

"Just try Sam," John coaxed. "That's all we ask."

"Dad's right Sammy. Just try," Dean smiled.

"Okay," Sam sighed. He extended an upturned hand to each of his family members. Dean quirked up an eyebrow at his brother.

"What? We gotta hold hands?" Sam nodded. Dean rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh, just kill me now," he groused. John merely chuckled and took Sam's hand. Sam lowered his head and his brother and father followed suit.

Sam searched his mind for the words, and although his family wasn't highly religious at least in terms of praying and church going he felt he had to thank the proper channels. He took a shaky breath. "Ggg…God," he stammered with nerves and John gave his hand a gentle squeeze to reassure him. "We www…want ttt…to thank you for this past year. We're thankful for Dean bbb…being out of the hos…pit…al and fff…feeling bbb…better. And it's good that dad is back and here with us. I'm thankful that I'm getting bbb…better. I'm thankful for my …" he paused a second. "For my family and having us to…ghether. And, thank you for the fff…food. Amen."

"Amen," Dean and John replied in unison. Dean didn't trust his voice to say moreright away as he fought the emotional tightness in his throat. John felt a hot sting in his eyes, and smiled.

"Well done Sammy," John broke the silence. "And since you did such a fine job you get first dibs on the turkey. How much do you want?" Just stood up with a carving knife to cut off slices from the turkey. Sam pointed and John cut. "Is that enough?"

"Yes," Sam held his plate up and his father put the meat down.

"You still like dark meat Dean?"

"You know it," Dean chimed in as Sam busied himself by looking over the various side dishes Dean deftly cut his brother's thick turkey slices into more manageable bites. He finished just as his father severed off a turkey leg and held it up on a serving fork to put on Dean's plate.

Later that Night

The Winchester men all lounged around the TV watching sports on ESPN. Now, having cable was a treat and all three men seemed captivated by the 200 digital channels that lie at their fingertips. "I'm stuffed," Dean complained.

"Well, if you hadn't eaten like it was your last supper maybe you wouldn't be ready to explode," John's voice was amused.

"I feel fine," Sam answered with a combination smug amused look.

"Bite me Sammy," Dean grumbled. "You eat like a girl."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Boys," John's tone dropping into parental warning.

"He started it," Dean turned wide innocent eyes to his father.

"Uh-huh," he said surveying his boys. "Well … I'm finishing it."

Dean was about to give his father a wiseass rebuttal when the phone rang. "I'll get it," Dean said as he reached beside the couch to the end table for the phone. "Hello?"

John watched his son's face and could see a fleeting moment of tension cross his face. "Yeah, it's been a long time," Dean said to the mystery caller. "Uh-huh, let me get him." Dean pulled the phone down from his ear, and handed the phone to his father. John looked at his son confused, and whispered.

"Who is it?"

"It's Joshua." John's face took on a serious look and now he understood why Dean had tensed up. It seemed their quiet family life was finally being invaded by the old familiar life of the Winchester family … hunting and the Supernatural world had finally found them and came calling again. Dean and Sam exchanged looks as John got up and carried the cordless phone into the kitchen.

To Be Continued

Many thanks in advance for any and all reviews … they are excellent motivation. I appreciate them. Let me know what you think of this chapter or the story. Thanks.

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