After about two weeks of investigation in Amherst, the Winchesters, a father named John and two sons, 19 year old Dean and 15 year old Sam, were concluding a hunt for a poltergeist during the dark early morning hours. Such a thing was business as usual.

It had been the brothers' job to enter the cemetery undetected. Upon making quick work of locating the offending specter's grave they both shared in the tedious effort of digging it up. Sam sprinkled the bones with salt and Dean added the kerosene. With his customary "you've been a pain in the ass" farewell, Dean then carefully tossed down a lit match so that the entire site burst into flames, thereby putting an end once and for all to the malevolent spirit.

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During the course of his sons' undertaking, the father performed his preferred part of the hunt back at the haunted house—observing the ultimate demise of the spirit. The poltergeist had detected John's presence at the designated point in time. Iron weapon at the ready, John tensed for the anticipated attack just as the etheric being flew toward him with a shout of rage. Suddenly, the angry spirit's approach was thwarted by some unseen force and it let out an earsplitting shriek as it became consumed by fire. All John was hit with was a whoosh of heated air and he exhaled in relief in the now silent dwelling. Feelings of pride in his sons surged within him; immediately impatient to have them near, John inconspicuously hastened to his car.

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Job done, the siblings trudged their way to the designated meeting location then wearily dropped to the ground, Dean letting a rather loud groan escape. Sam's eyes darted around. "Shh!"

"What? There's no one here," Dean hissed.

Sam gave him a look that expressed 'then why are you whispering?'

Dean shook his head meaning 'Whatever.'

They remained quiet as they relaxed and wordlessly waited for their dad to pick them up. The weather enhanced their peaceful mood; it was tranquil with an occasional gentle breeze blowing through their hair.

Dean glanced over at his brother who was perched close by. Sam noticed and gave him a smile before tilting his dirt-streaked face up toward the heavens. 'He seems comfortable doing this sort of thing now,' Dean thought. Satisfied because he and his family completed the job successfully, together, he then let out a contented sigh and joined his brother in star gazing.

Sam was appreciating Dean's nearness—the golden silence—and the fact that his brother was actually respectful of it. It meant that Dean was okay.

Though calm, Sam found himself unable to avoid reflecting on the events over the past week, mainly on how the hunt had been touch and go for a while...

His dad had gone missing, the first time without any prior warning. John left them alone before, sure, but the separation was always intended or announced. Though the passing of time lessened the pain, he remembered how fearful he felt, could only think the worst. Dean was just as scared but tried to hide it; Sam loved him all the more for it. Despite Dean's best efforts it was an awful time as they were virtually rendered immobile. Sam prayed it would be the first and last time.

John made his way back through the front door a couple of days later; Dean was instantly back to his old self. Sam was relieved as well but quickly became livid when it was clear there would be no explanation offered—especially because of how those two days affected Dean. Sam went so far as to shout at his father but nothing cracked the tough exterior; John had simply ordered him to move on.

Sam grudgingly complied; telling himself that the important thing was that everyone is alright helped but bitterness remained, was kept locked away, simmering below the surface.

Sam and Dean stood up when they could hear the low rumble of John's '67 Chevy Impala in the distance; Dean would swear he could even feel it as well. Eventually, the black car appeared and they watched its slow approach until John stopped it in front of them.

The car definitely had personality with its distinctive squeaky doors that were heard when being opened by Sam and Dean once the tools were placed back into the trunk.

Upon being situated inside, Dean always in the front while Sam got the back seat to himself, with the doors creaking shut behind them, each son received a silent nod of approval from John who had been waiting behind the wheel, sitting in the shadows. They, in turn, answered with a gratified expression; there was nothing that needed to be said.

The satisfying end to the hunt was kept low key as the Winchesters spent the drive back to their motel room in companionable silence.

By the time they reached their destination, the three men were starting to feel anticlimactic so they simply planned on following the routine with unspoken agreement—each man taking a shower before eating together then going to sleep.

However, the routine had been interrupted. About thirty minutes later, while preparing the meal of eggs and toast, John's phone rang. Sam and Dean watched as John picked it up and headed outside. The brothers, having heard their father say "hey, Caleb" before he disappeared, shared a quick look with each other then turned back to the task at hand. This was their life, after all.