The summer after Sam turned eight, John took the boys to Mississippi for the summer. A friend of a friend had a poltergeist problem and a summer house half a mile from the Gulf of Mexico. The boys had seen the ocean a couple times, but they always seemed to be on the coast in the winter.
"We get to say down there for the whole day? Sam bounces along between Dean and John.
"Yeah," John nodded. "If the two of you can behave yourselves we can."
"For real?!" Sam squealed.
"Yes, Sam," John answered.
"You mean we get to go swimming in the ocean?" Sam asked.
"If you ask me one more time," John answered. "Dean and I will, and you'll be spending the day back at the house."
"Okay," Sam nodded, running ahead. "I'm just really excited."
"Figured," John smiled switching the heavy cooler from one and to the other as Sam skipped a few yards ahead. "You pack the sunscreen with the towels and stuff?"
"I don't need it," Dean said shaking his head. "I'll be fine. I packed extra towels and clothes for me and Sammy though."
"You're gonna be a tomato before lunch," John warned. "I'm not going to listen to you complain when your all sun-burnt."
"I'll be fine." Dean repeated.
"You got your mom's complexion kiddo," John advised. "You'll burn if you're in the sun too long. I promise ya."
"Mom and you went to the beach?" Dean asked softly. He knew how much his dad didn't like to talk about his mom; how upset it made him.
"Once," John answered, smiling sadly. "You were three, maybe, summer before Sam was born, so you had to be three, took you on vacation with us to Texas." John chuckled to himself and looked down at Dean as they kept walking. "You were chasing this little crab along the shore line, picked up. It… ah… it chomped down on your finger and you were screaming crying, ran over to us. Pulled the thing off your hand but you were still screaming, people were starting to stare at us. Your Ma, she… ah… she pulled you into her lap and kissed your little finger and you just stopped. Everything was fine. Ran back off to find more rocks or whatever you were doin'.Little momma's boy, you were."
"It was fun?" Dean asked. "That one time we had at the beach, you, me, and her?"
"Yeah," John nodded. "A lot of fun. Does, ah… does… Sam ask about her?"
"When he was little," Dean answered as the finally reached the beach. It was still early so there weren't too many people there yet. Sam had already found the perfect place the set up their base camp for the day, and was waiting as patiently as and excited eight year old could. "When he first started school and realized that we didn't have something that everyone else did. He asked if I was him mom once. Set him straight pretty quick, though. He hasn't asked about her in a few years. He used to say he could see her, like her ghost or something. He said she would watch him sleep and it kinda freaked him out. But he hasn't said anything 'bout that in a long time."
John nodded and planted the cooler in the sand and took the duffle from Dean's shoulder, instructing the boys to lay out the blankets.
"Hurry!" Sam yelled waving them over to the spot he picked out.
"The ocean's not going anywhere, Sammy," John said. "Deep breathes."
"You think we'll see a whale?" Sam asked breathlessly. "We learned all about whales in science class. They live in the ocean and eat invisible weird things called plankton and stuff."
"They live way out in the ocean, not at the beach," Dean answered.
"Haven't you ever heard of a beached whale?" Sam spat sticking out his tongue.
"Yeah," Dean smirked. "There's one over there."
Dean pointed to a very large man in a very small bathing suit near the water and laughed.
"Dean," John sighed. "Be nice."
Dean rolled his eyes and helped lay out the blanket on the beach.
"Maybe a shark!" Sam exclaimed.
"Hopefully not," Dean said swallowing hard.
"When can we go in the water?" Sam asked impatiently. "I wanna go swimming."
"Go," John nodded. "Just stay where I can see you, and don't go too far out."
Sam nodded; then grabbed Dean's arm "Come on, Dean, let's go!"
"Yeah," Dean said pulling his arm back. "Calm down, it'll be there in two minutes. Slow your horses."
"I don't wanna calm down," Sam said. "I wanna go swimming."
Dean rolled his eyes and followed after Sam who ran out fast as he could ahead of him, straight to the water. Dean watched as Sam hit the water, splashing up around him. He could imagine the huge smile on the kid's face. He stood with his toes barely in the water as Sam jumped and screamed and laughed in the water.
"Come on!" Sam called over the roar of the ocean. "You're missing all the fun!"
"I'm good," Dean yelled back, arms crossed against his chest. "You keep playing, I'm fine here."
It took less than five minutes for Sam to decide that ocean was a horrible idea. He was standing with his back to the water smiling and waving at Dean when a wave over took him. He came up spitting sand and gasping for air. Dean was in the water before the next wave rolled in, pulling Sam out and dropping him on the shore.
Sam sprawled out dramatically, coughing.
"You alright?" Dean asked frantically. "Say something."
"I hate the ocean," Sam coughed. "I wanna go home now."
"Alright," Dean nodded, smiling a little. "Let's go up to the blanket and sit with Dad for a while."
"Okay," Sam said, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "I really do hate the ocean. We gotta tell Dad to not live at the ocean again."
"You can tell him," Dean chuckled extending his hand to pull Sam to his feet.
The boys ran together back up the blanket where John was sitting back to the concrete wall writing away in his journal.
"Daaaaaaad," Sam screeched before collapsing on the blanket in the most dramatic fashion Dean had ever seen. "The ocean is stupid. We should move away."
"Why," John laughed. "What happened?"
"I drowned," Sam sighed. "Dean saved my life. I ate, like, all the sand in the whole ocean. The rest of the sand is in my pants. Stupid ocean."
"Alright," John nodded. "You don't wanna stay for the rest of the day? The whole trip down here was your idea, kiddo."
"I guess we can stay for a little while," Sam sighed like it pained him. "But I don't wanna go back in the water."
"I packed a Frisbee and a football," Dean suggested. "We can throw it around if you want."
"No," Sam said rolling onto his stomach. "I need to recover from my near death experience. I have a book in the bag."
"I'll throw around if you want," John said, tucking his journal into the duffle.
"Really?" Dean asked skeptically. "You wanna play catch with me?"
"Yeah," John said side-arming the football over to the twelve year old. "Why not?"
Dean had never played catch with his dad. Bobby had taught him how to throw a ball when he was in first grade when his dad was off hunting some monster out west. Bobby had shown him how to throw a spiral between rows or junk cars two summers ago when John was in Florida helping to clean up a mess another hunter made. John didn't know that Dean could throw a curve or was teaching himself how to throw a knuckle ball. John didn't know that Dean kind of wanted to join the baseball team but was afraid they'd have to pack up and move out halfway through the season.
"Alright," Dean smiled as big as he could, eyes lighting up. "Yeah, let's do that."
John and Dean found an empty area not far from the blanket so they could keep an eye on Sam, who was now sitting where his dad was against the wall reading some book he picked up at the local library the day before. Dean's left arm still wasn't at full strength; the doctor's in Delaware told John that he needed physical therapy, but John decided there was better ways to build the muscle back up besides paying someone to watch Dean lift weights. There was still a visibly difference in size, but it was getting better. Dean wasn't sure how easy it would be to catch with his weakened arm, but as long as he was playing catch with his dad, it didn't matter.
They tossed it back and forth a few times, a first normal moment Dean could remember having with his dad since before they started hunting.
"Got quite and arm on ya kid," John smiled. "Where'd you learn to throw like that?"
"Bobby," Dean said, tossing the ball to his father.
"Oh," John nodded, throwing back. "Good guy, Bobby. He… ah… what else he teach ya? All the important stuff, I'm guessing."
"Not really," Dean shrugged. "Ride a bike, throw a ball, I taught Sammy all that stuff."
"Shouldn't've had to do that," John replied. "He's a good kid though, Sam? I know he does good in school, but he's good?"
"He doesn't know," Dean answered. "If that's what you're asking. He asks why we move so much, but I usually make something up. I just remember being little like that, having to keep that kind of secret is hard. So it's better if he just doesn't know. I mean, like, he knows how mom died and stuff, but not, like, that a monster got her."
John nodded.
They tossed the ball and forth in silence for a while.
"Do you think," Dean said carefully. "Do you think that maybe, maybe you could tell me about her? You know, in case Sam asks. I mean like, I don't remember much but I want Sam to know about her and stuff. But you can only tell the kid she smelled like cookies and taught me to read so many times before he realizes I'm just as clueless as he is. I mean, I know you don't like talking about her, but it would be nice. To have something to tell him if he asks more questions. You know?"
"Yeah," John smiled sadly. "Yeah, I can do that. Whatcha wanna know."
Dean was caught off guard by his father's answer, and almost dropped the ball. Maybe he was possessed or something, this guy standing across from him wasn't the dad he'd gotten used to over the years. This, he wasn't sure who this guy, but he hoped he stayed around for a while.
"I don't know," Dean blushed. "Just what was she like?"
"She was," John smiled. "She was great. Smart, like Sammy, quick witted, like you, beautiful, loved you boys more than anything. All she ever wanted was the family, white picket fence, two kids and dog, you know, normal life."
"Exact opposite of what we got now," Dean chuckled.
"Yeah," John nodded. "Something like that. Hey, um, you getting hungry, let's head back to the blanket, break into those sandwiches."
"Sure," Dean nodded, tucking the ball under his arm and following his dad back to the blanket.
John reached behind him and draped his arm around Dean's shoulders. Dean squirmed a little from the contact.
"Told ya you'd burn," John laughed. "Listen, next time, huh?"
"Yes, sir." Dean shifted awkwardly as John guided him by the back of the neck to the blanket.
"Ready for lunch, Sammy," John called to the younger boy still sitting up against that wall. "Dean, after lunch, you wanna go over to the little convenience store up the block and grab sun screen."
"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Yes, sir, of course."
"Probably should pick up some aloe too," John smiled. "You're gonna be sore in the morning, but I hear you complaining, you'll be doing extra exercises for your arm, it was your own fault."
Dean nodded, of course it day at the beach was one of the best days in Dean's short life. Watching Sam smile like that, the happiness in his eyes, playing with his dad, of course he would ruin it by being pig headed. He ate his sandwich looking between his dad and little brother watching Sam theatrically retell his "near death experience" most of what Sam said was completely made up, but John smiled and laughed at the right spots. As long as Sam was happy it would all be okay. The day wasn't lost if he could go get sunscreen and keep Sam from becoming crispy.
After lunch Sam wanted to swim again, but only if Dean went in the water with him.
"I'll just stand here," Dean called out to Sam who was pleading for Dean to join him. "Have fun, it's cool."
"Come on!" Sam whined. "It'll be more fun with you."
"It's fine," Dean nodded. "All good. Plenty of fun right here."
"Dean," his dad said pressing hand to the small of his back. "It's okay; I'll watch you both, go swim."
"I'm good," Dean nodded.
"Can you swim kiddo?" John asked softly.
Dean shook his head quickly. "Sam learned in at the Y in Minnesota, but I was playing baseball with some of the older kids. So, I didn't get to learn. I'm good here, just watching."
"Come on, Dean," Sam yelled. "It's fun."
"Just go splash with Sam," John said tenderly. "Don't go above your knees and don't turn your back to the waves and you'll be fine. Next place we stay at, I'll… I'll make sure it's got a pool. I'll teach you to swim. Sound fair?"
"Yeah, I guess," Dean said, confusion thick in his voice. "Why are you being so nice?"
"What?" John laughed.
"You've been really nice today, it's weird," Dean replied. "I mean, like, you're not usually all 'I'll teach you to swim' and 'I'll play catch with you' and 'sure I'll tell you whatever you want about Mom.' It's weird."
"You want me to, yell at you?" John said rolling his eyes, the first glimpse of the father he'd gotten use to all day. "I'm trying to have a good day at the beach with my boys. I'm sorry it's too much for you."
"No, it's just," Dean tried. "It's just, weird." Dean sighed and turned back toward his brother in the water. He took a calculated step forward into the water. Sam almost immediately tackled Dean into the water. Dean struggled to keep his head about the water.
"This is why I didn't want to play with you," Dean groaned rolling out from under Sam. "Don't be such a little punk Sam." He ran back up to beach past John.
Dean flopped down on the blanket waiting the sun beating down on the back that he still hadn't put sunscreen on. He deserved to burn now, being twelve and not knowing how to swim, should have taught himself. Leave it to Dean to ruin the best day the Winchesters had had in eight years with his own stupidity.