A/N: Um…enjoy!
Chapter 6: Macaroni and Old Trucks
John walked slowly up to the motel room, battered and exhausted. That poltergeist had given him one hell of a fight and in the end he'd had to settle on hoping the damn bastard was gone. He'd left a nine year old Dean at the motel alone with a five year old Sammy over night. He'd only planned on being gone a few hours, which is why he hadn't dropped them off at Bobby's. He had barely kept his eyes open on the drive home and at the moment all he wanted to do was collapse on the bed and sleep for the next day and a half. As he reached out for the door handle he could hear hushed little voices inside and then suddenly the door swung open and shut within the blink of an eye, or at least for as long as it took John Winchester to blink his eyes, which happened to be a lot longer than normal. He looked down at Dean who was standing protectively in front of the door. At first they just stared at each other. John, so tired that he could hardly comprehend how his oldest had gotten in and out of the room so fast, and Dean, looking nervous and a little bit like he was trying to hide something that he shouldn't have been doing. Deciding that he couldn't come up with a comprehensive sentence, John reached over his son for the door handle.
"No!" Dean swatted his hand away.
"What'd ya mean no?" John snapped.
"Uh…Sammy's in there," Dean said.
"Where else would he be?"
"I mean, he's in there sleeping," Dean explained.
"I just heard you two talkin' in there," John pointed out.
"I was…reading him a bedtime story," Dean answered.
"At nine in the mornin'?" John asked doubtfully. Instead of answering Dean pressed his back up firmly against the door. "Come on dude I need my sleep." John reached for the door handle again.
"No!" John stumbled slightly as Dean leapt forward and crashed into his legs.
"Damn it Dean, let me go inside," he scooped up his nine year old in his arms and opened the door, despite the young boy's protests. He'd hardly caught a glimpse of the room before Dean's hands covered his eyes and he was forced to stop again. What he had seen though, had triggered something from the bottom of his heart.
"Hurry Sammy!" Dean shouted.
"But…I can't weach," Sam protested.
"Dad, walk straight ahead and don't peak," Dean instructed. He was so serious that John couldn't help, but smile as he did as he was told. "Sammy give it to Dad." John felt a piece of yarn with tape on the end of it being placed into his hand. "Dad, reach up and stick it to the ceiling." Again John did as he was told. "Now step back aaaand stop!" John stopped and Dean's hands came down. John surveyed the room, his grin growing broader as he took everything in. What he had just taped to the ceiling was a large sign made out of several pieces of notebook paper glued together that read in big blue marker letters HAPPY FATHER'S DAY. Scattered across the room were crayon drawings of the three of them done by both boys and sitting in middle of the table was a shoebox wrapped in newspaper. Sammy was standing on the table as he had been attempting to hang the other half of the sign to the ceiling, but was a good four feet from being able to reach. Now he was stretching out his arms to be held and John scooped him up automatically.
"Happy father's day Dad," Dean said grinning.
"Happy daddy day Daddy," Sam said, slinging his arms around his father's neck.
"Thank you boys," John kissed each of them and took another look around the room.
"Daddy! Daddy! Lookie, we made breakfast!" Sam shouted, squirming out of John's grip. The second his feet hit the floor he was running over to the small counter. He picked up a bowl of cereal and carefully carried it over to John.
"It's perfect," John smiled and took the bowl. He set Dean down, who walked calmly over the table, picked up the box and handed it to John.
"Sammy made it in school," Dean explained.
"Dean found the picture," Sam added as John began unwrapping the gift. Inside was a neon green macaroni picture frame with a picture of the three of them at Singer's Salvage yard, leaning up against an old beat up pick up.
"This is really special," John felt his eyes burn from tears pushing to get out. He hugged his boys again. "This has been the best father's day."
"We love you Dad," Dean smiled proudly up at him.
"I love you both too."
Although the macaroni frame was lost somewhere between Langley, Washing ton and Hurly, Mississippi, John held onto the picture and it was the last thing he saw when Azazel traded his soul for Dean's. It was burned with his body and even in hell, that memory was one of the reasons he never gave in.
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY TO ALL THOSE DADS OUT THERE! Please read and review. Thanks :)
