A/N: Man, it's good to be back. My real life still has me in a tight grip, and slowly but surely I'm feeling like Sammy in the panic room – withdrawal. *starts seeing dead people* Uh…. I guess I need some salt….

It's a double-drabble. I just couldn't fit it into 100 words. *sighs* But I hope you'll forgive me. *offers free chocolate for everyone**grins*

For the timeline – Dean's 8 and Sam's 4

And, as always, my hugest thanks to the amazing Enkidu07. Honey, I don't know what I would do without you! You're awesome!!! *smishes*

Day Of Rain

Rain pounded against the window, ran in droplets down the glass. The room was quiet, Sammy already asleep.

Dean stared outside into the darkness of the parking lot, waiting for the familiar rumble of the Impala.

One week. One week and so far nothing from Dad… And they were running low on cash, not to mention that there wasn't a crust left in the house. Hopefully Dad was alright.

He rested his pounding head against the cool glass, his eyes closing on their own accord. He felt miserably and tired and he was so hot.


Strong arms picked him up, woke him from a restless slumber.


Dean leaned more into John, burying his face into his Dad's shoulder, seeking warmth. The smell of leather, sweat and smoke familiar and calming.

Calloused fingers brushed sweat soaked strands from his forehead.

"It's okay, Ace. I'm here now. Come on, let's get you back to bed."


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