"It scares the hell outta me, you two are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So we're going after this damn thing... Together."

"Yes Sir." Sam and Dean said in unison.

John smirked as he looked at his sons.

"Get some sleep boys, we'll head out in the morning."

John grabbed his coat and exited the room; he just needed a moment to contemplate his decisions. As he walked around the motel room He thought about his sons, they were both adults now, but they were both still so young. He knew he had set them both on this path long ago. He still wasn't sure how he felt about their future in The Brotherhood. But at this moment they had all found common ground. Hunt down that yellow eyed son of a bitch that had destroyed their family.

Dean had changed in the last year. He was no longer just John's soldier. He wasn't nearly as quick to defend his father, and had this edge of defiance about him that reminded him so much of Sam. He had no one to blame but himself for that. He had disappeared on Dean, becoming another person who had left him floundering. He deserved every sharp word Dean threw at him, but it still grated on his nerves, reminded him so much of Caleb. He couldn't help but notice how Dean moved with Sam. They were one unit, any awkwardness from their teen years had melted away. It was everything John ever wanted for his boys, he just never imagined he wouldn't be a part of it.

Sam was different. John was prepared for his youngest's anger. He had never been one to fall in line at John's orders always needing an explanation of why they were doing what they were. Sam had always been the odd man out. As much as the rest of The Triad had cared for him, and as much as Dean had doted on him growing up, John knew how uncomfortable Sam had always felt in their world. John shouldn't have been as surprised as he was when his youngest was accepted to Stanford. Sam went looking for a place he would fit in, and John knew he had found it the first time he had checked in on his youngest in Palo Alto. Hell, John might even understand a little bit. He joined the Marines for the same reason, looking for a place he belonged.

John was surprised to see a shadowy figure leaning against the hood of the Impala when he walked back towards the room. He saw the bottle of whiskey first as the glint of the streetlight hit it, he expected it to be Dean, but it was actually Sam who seemed to be in need of a night cap.

"Making sure I didn't take off, son?" John asked.

Sam smiled softly but did not look up at his father.

"No Sir. Sneaking off in the middle of the night has always been more my thing."

"Where's your brother?"

"Asleep, I didn't want to keep him up."

John leaned against the back of the Impala beside his youngest son. They didn't have many one-on-one conversations in the years leading up to Stanford. And besides their singular conversation when Dean had gone to the morgue, their very few interactions over the last few years had been filled with anger and sharp words.

"Any reason you aren't sleeping yourself? That was the plan, wasn't it?" John asked. He didn't know Sam very well anymore, but he hardly struck him as a 2 AM drinker.

Sam picked at the label of the cheap whiskey that he had on his knee, before raising it to his lips for a sip.

"I uhhh... I don't sleep well anymore." Sam whispered.

John looked at Sam's profile and saw embarrassment in the young man's face. He wondered if that was his fault, that he had stomped on Sam's spirit so much growing up that his son was afraid to show emotion. Who was he kidding? He didn't wonder. He knew that was his fault. But John would never be the type of man to back pedal and apologize for his choices.

"Jessica?" John asked.

Sam looked over at his father with questioning in his eyes. John waited for the spark of anger, for typical venom to spill from his son's mouth. Tell him he had no right to ask about her, he didn't even know her. Repeat back every awful thing John had always said to Sam about his own mother. But Sam just sighed.

"Yeah... can't close my eyes without seeing her... on the ceiling..."

John swallowed and nodded his head.

"Yeah... I uhh... I know what that's like."

Sam continued to look at his father. The two had found some common ground, and John hated that this was what he had to relate to his son. Sam swung the bottle towards his father, and John took it without hesitation.

"Does it ever get better?" Sam asked.

John took a long gulp and smiled sadly as it burned. He had never been one to lie to his children. Even when they needed a little childhood comfort. It was too late to change who they were.

"I'll let you know if I ever find out."

John looked Sam in the eye as he said it. He hoped that someday he would be able to give Sam that answer. Hell, he hoped that at the end of this, both his sons could find some sort of peace.

Sam just nodded and swayed slightly, not dangerously so but enough for John to tell that he had gotten nicely buzzed off the whiskey. John hoped that this wasn't a frequent thing, for Sam to find sleep at the bottom of a bottle.

Of all the things he could pass on to his sons, he hoped that wasn't one of them. He couldn't handle sharing that common ground with his boys.

"Hey Dad?"

"Yeah Sammy?"

"I still don't agree with how you raised us...I never will... but..."

John raised an eyebrow at Sam.

"There is a but? Since when?"

Sam looked back over at his father, and John saw the same type of grief is Sams face that John himself had carried for over 20 years. More common ground. And John hated it. If Sam's eyes looked a little wet, both of them chose not to draw attention to it.

"I guess I never took into consideration how hard you had to work to try and keep it together. Honestly? I don't know how you looked at me every day and didn't hate me."

John sighed and took another deep drink.

"Sammy... I don't..." John growled in frustration. He didn't know how to comfort his son. He had handed those reigns over to Dean long ago.

"I guess what I am saying is I'm sorry if I was ever a bad reminder of what you lost." Sam whispered.

As Sam began to rise to walk away, the oldest Winchester felt the spark of some long-gone paternal desire to comfort his baby. He grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him towards him, putting his hand awkwardly on his son's neck causing Sam to wince as John hit a bruise. John backed up quickly and settled for simply looking his son in the eye.

"Sammy... You were never a bad reminder of what I lost, if anything I think I held on so tight because you were a reminder of something good...when I was good. I know we haven't always seen eye to eye but don't think for a second that you weren't wanted."

He could see a part of his youngest thaw, and maybe even a hint of the little boy who once saw his father as some sort of hero, but it was gone as soon as the motel room door squeaked open.

Instantly the attention was off of John as Sam's eyes were drawn towards his brother.

"Is everything okay?" Dean asked as he rubbed his tired eyes.

"Everything's fine son, just getting some fresh air."

Dean nodded but did not look at his father, he just eyed Sam suspiciously.

"You gonna get some sleep Sammy?"

Sam yawned and nodded his head.

"Yeah, I'm tired."

Sam slid past Dean in the motel room door and went directly to his own bed stretching out on his stomach. Dean closed the door leaving him and John in the parking lot.

"How much did he drink?" Dean asked.

John looked down at the nearly empty bottle in his hand.

"Not as much as you think, I started dumping it into the grass in case he asked for it back." John stated.

Dean laughed shortly.

"Good, hung over Sammy is a pain in the ass."

"He doing this a lot? Drinking instead of sleeping?" John asked.

Dean looked at him and John could swear he could see a hint of distrust in his eldest's eyes.

"He isn't drinking to pass out every night if that's what you are asking. Last time he had a drop was with Caleb and I a couple weeks back and even then, he carried us back to the motel room."

"So, what made tonight so different?"

"Probably you."

"Excuse me?"

Dean shrugged.

"It helps him sleep sometimes; others it helps him work up the courage to say what he needs to say. You tell me, did he say what he needed to say?"

Dean clearly thought there had been some kind of fight.

"He did, and I think we found some common ground. What about you Dean? You need to say anything?"

"No, Sir. I know exactly where I stand." Dean smirked.

John couldn't help but think that this time, Dean was the odd one out. Sam and John wanted to kill yellow eyes, no matter the cost. John could see in Dean's eyes that wasn't the case for him anymore. For the first time, it seemed to be Dean he couldn't find any common ground with.

John didn't know when it had happened, but Dean stood firmly beside his brother. The two had become a nearly impenetrable wall against the outside world. And it wasn't like that was a bad thing, they and Caleb were going to need each other in the future. In all the ways he thought that Sam would return to them, and The Brotherhood John never thought he would find himself on the outside of his son's inner circle.

But for now, John knew he had made his bed, and at this point all he could hope for was finding some common ground.