Weechester fic. Dean has just turned six. Sam is almost two.

The idea for this fic has been in my head for a while so I decided to just sit down and write it tonight. All mistakes belong to me but unfortunately, the characters do not.

The title is just one of those things that happened but I kinda like the reference. :)

John stared into the fire, recalling memories that were almost too painful to bear. If there'd been no one but him, maybe he would have swallowed a bullet months ago but his boys…he couldn't leave them without a mother or a father. What kind of man would he be if he deserted his sons in order to ease his own pain?

He felt something being pressed into his hand. "Here, you look as though you could use this."

John took the drink Jim offered him and watched as his friend stoked the logs on the fire. The flames danced merrily in the confines of the fireplace, but all John could see were the angry flames which had consumed the woman he loved.

Jim returned the poker to its resting place on the hearth. "Did the boys have any trouble falling asleep?"

John tossed back the whiskey Jim had given him and held the glass out. Jim frowned but retrieved the bottle and poured another shot. John decided to nurse this one for a bit to avoid receiving a lecture from the pastor.

"Sammy falls asleep pretty easily as long as Dean is there. Dean's had trouble sleeping ever since…..ever since his mom's been gone but he's doing better. Some nights are harder than others."

John sighed. Some nights are hard for all of us.

"I don't imagine Sam is old enough to really understand much yet, is he?" asked Jim.

"No, but he picks up on things from Dean. It amazes me how much they are in tune with each other and Sam's not even two years old yet."

Jim laughed and nodded his head knowingly. "Kids are full of surprises."

"Dean reminds me of her. He's quiet but strong, watches his little brother like a hawk. When he smiles, it's Mary through and through. And his hair…I've thought about cutting it so many times. It would be so much easier for me to take care of but I can't. It's hers and I can't bear to part with it. Is that crazy?"

Jim began poking at the fire again but John was sure it was more for distraction than need. The fire was burning strong but so were the tears in John's eyes.

"No, it's not crazy. We want to hold on to the ones we love and sometimes we feel like the simplest thing would be such a horrible betrayal of their memory." Jim reached out and grasped his hand. "One day at time, John."

John nodded and for a while the two men sat in silence just watching the fire burn.


John immediately opened his eyes and found Sammy tugging on his shirt sleeve.

"What is it, Sammy?"

John glanced over at Jim and realized they'd both dozed off by the fire, which was now nothing but glowing embers.

"Dean sad."


Sam pulled on his father's hand impatiently. "Dean SAD!"

Jim stirred in his chair. "What's going on?"

"Sammy, you stay here with Pastor Jim while I go take care of your brother."

Sam eyed Jim doubtfully. "Cookie?"

"Sure, we can get you a cookie."

Jim took Sam's chubby hand and led him toward the kitchen as John made his way to the bedroom where he'd put both boys to bed earlier. As he passed the bathroom he heard crying.


He pushed open the bathroom door and found Dean huddled on the toilet seat, a pair of scissors in his hand, blondish brown curls scattered all over the tile floor. He was sobbing as if his heart had been broken in two.

"Dean, give me the scissors." John held out his hand and Dean obediently gave his father the scissors.

John laid the scissors out of reach and knelt on the floor in front of his son. "Why did you do this, Dean?"

He reached out to touch his son's hair, tears in his own eyes, and Dean began to wail.


John tried to pull Dean into his arms but the boy resisted.

"Dean, what is it? Please talk to me. You're scaring me."

"I don't want you to be sad anymore," Dean whispered.

"I don't understand, son."

"My hair is like Mommy's. Thinking of Mommy makes you sad."

Everything suddenly clicked into place.

"You heard me talking to Pastor Jim?"

Dean nodded as a leftover tear rolled down his cheek.

"Dean, I miss your Mom and yes, thinking of her makes me sad sometimes but….."

"I don't want you to be sad when you look at me."

John felt as if his heart was being crushed in his chest.

"You never make me sad, son. You have to believe that."

Dean stared at the floor.

"You and Sammy, you're my world." John searched for the words a six year old could understand. "I could never be sad when I look at either of you. You make me proud, Dean. More than you'll ever know."

This time when he pulled Dean into his arms, there was no resistance.

"Dean sad?"

John turned his head and found Jim standing in the doorway with Sam, who had a cookie in both hands. Jim shrugged. "He wanted to check on his brother."

Sam toddled across the bathroom and handed Dean one of the chocolate chip cookies. "Make better?"

Dean managed a grin for his baby brother. "Yeah, that makes it better, Sammy."

"Okay." Sam toddled back out of the bathroom with Jim following close behind.

Dean snorted and John began to laugh.

"Want me to finish up this hair cut for you?" John asked.

"Yeah, I think you'd better."

Dean made no attempt to remove himself from his father's embrace and John found there was really no hurry to finish the botched up haircut. An hour later, after Dean had finished his cookie and fallen asleep in his father's arms, John was still wondering at the miracle of his two sons. Jim was right. He'd tried to hold onto Mary in the little things, forgetting that the biggest and best part of them both had been with him all along.

Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome!