Hey folks,

cool! Thanks for the reviews. Sorry it took me some days for the new chapter, but right now I can't keep up daily updates, because there's sooo much work to do ;)

Enjoy the new chapter!

4 days later...

John sat, watching his sons. Sam sat on the carpet at Bobby's home, playing noisily with some Hotwheels, while Dean… Dean seemed to be even more gone since their last encounter with the Supernatural.

John had grown accustomed by the silence coming from this oldest, but now it seemed every sound had gone around Dean. He sat most of the time on Bobby's table, drawing pictures, using only black and red for colors.

But it wasn't only that. Ever since Dean had woken up, he had refused to meet his fathers eyes. His gaze cast to the floor as soon John tried to get his attention.

Sighing deeply, John stood, walking by Sam and tousled the small boy's hair, stopping at the table and looking at Dean's handiwork.

"Nice one, sport." He started nonchalantly, laying his hand on Dean's shoulder, feeling the boy tense.

He knew Dean knew he was there, but the boy just kept on drawing, his gaze on the piece of paper.

"Is that a rainbow?" John asked puzzled. "You need much more color than black and red to paint a rainbow…"

He wasn't prepared for the reaction he got as Dean's head suddenly jerked up, looking his father straight in the eye.

Dean stared at him with suddenly quivering lips, the crayon he had held falling from his hand as he shook his head no.

"Dean? Hey… buddy…" John crouched in front of the small boy, pushing the chair around so they faced each other. "What is it? I was just thinking… black is…"

A slight tug from behind let John turn around. Sammy stood there, his face serious, his Hotwheels forgotten on the carpet.

He shrank as Dean used the moment of diversion to bolt from the chair and up the stairs to his and Sam's bedroom.

John felt torn between hurry and follow Dean and to listen what was so urgent for Sam, that it couldn't wait.

The little boy tugged again, his face still serious.

"Rainbow's bad." Sam said, watching at his dad through long lashes.

"What are you talking about Sam? Dean just would need some more colors…"

"Nooo, Daddy… Dee says Rainbow's bad." Sam explained, nodding at his words.

"You… Dean says?" John exclaimed baffled.

"Dee says." Little Sammy confirmed.

John scooped Sam up in his arms, walking over to the armchair he had occupied earlier, sitting down he asked: "So, what else does Dean say?"

"Not much." Sam whispered, lying his head onto John's chest. "Dee's sad." He continued then.

John who'd played with his baby-boys hair, stopped with the movement.

"How… why do you say that?" he asked, stroking up and down Sammy's back.

"'Cause Dee cries and has bad sleeps." Sammy explained to him.

John nodded to himself, while hugging his little son. He had known about the continuing nightmares. Also Dean didn't seem to let him in, he knew he searched solace from his little brother. Every evening the boys were tucked in in their own beds. And every night, John checked on them Dean's bed was abandoned and he found both boys cuddled together, sleeping.

He just couldn't understand why Dean kept him in the dark, why he wouldn't want his Daddy to help… and that let him stay awake every night. He lay there, tossing and turning, waiting for sounds of another nightmare. But they never came. Dean even remained quiet during those.

And what about the Rainbow's Dean continued to draw and Sam had told him were bad.

Coming to an decision he got up putting Sam down on the carpet with the Hotwheels.

"Hey, I gonna go talk to Dean, okay? You go ahead and play. When we're done we come back and have dinner, how does that sound buddy?" he told Sammy, trying to sound lighthearted.

Sammy grinned at him and replied with enthusiasm in his voice: "Can I have fries?"

...

John opened the door to his boys room, stepping in quietly and closed it. He saw Dean laying on his stomach, his head in his pillows, shoulders shaking.

Not able to suppress a sigh, he headed for the bundle of blankets, sitting down gently on the edge, again reaching out for the small boy.

Dean flinched at his hand, turning around with a sniffle.

Seeing the sadness in his boy's eyes was almost more then John could handle.

With a husky "Ohh Dean!" he pulled the boy upwards and in his arms, one of his hands holding Dean's head to his shoulder as he rocked back and forth, feeling the sobs that wracked the little body.

"What is going on with you?" he whispered, his voice not strong enough to speak out loud. "I'm here to help. Let me help you… please… just tell me what's wrong?" he felt devastated, holding onto his boy, hugging him so hard, almost as if trying to force him to speak, but Dean remained quiet, clinging onto him, while he continued to rock them both to and from, tears stinging his eyes…

TBC...