Some Nights

Shine On

caution: contains the spanking of a mutinous moose. also: AU where John doesn't die, and continues to hunt with his sons

"I like that you're lonely, 

Lonely like me.

I could be lonely with you."

-lovelytheband

***

"Did you SEE the way that ghost flew at me?" Dean Winchester exclaimed excitedly. "Stupid son of a bitch never saw it coming! Didn't even have a freakin chance!"

John laughed, putting his hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezing gently. "You did all right son."

They were walking towards their car, the 67' Chevy Impala parked underneath some trees in the abandoned parking lot. It was a nice sunny day, a cool breeze following them, lifting John's spirits indefinitely. It was a hunting trip that had gone right, and those seemed to be rarer and rarer this days. He glanced at Dean who was still talking a mile a minute, but John had lost track on what he was saying, but that was okay. Dean was in his element, carrying his pistol, looking all the world like he belonged. John had had his worries when he taught his sons how to hunt, because he didn't even know what the hell he was doing half the time, but now, with Dean and Sam with him, it made all the difference.  They were Winchesters, and that meant something to people now.

Speaking of Sam, John glanced at his youngest son, who was walking with his hands in his pockets, long bangs falling into his face, occasionally shaking them out. Something was off with his son, and he felt he needed to get to the "bottom" of it, so to speak. His methods of dealing with unruly attitudes were traditional in a sense of the word, but probably not on his twenty-four year old or twenty-eight year old sons. But John had found out that putting his sons over his knee, baring their bottoms, and giving it a good few smacks cleared up a lot of things quicker and faster. As it was, a threat of spanking would straighten Dean up quickly, but Sam would push until John actually had to carry out the threat, and then and only then, would they find out the true problem. It was a whirlwind all right, but John preferred their relationship to most.

John unlocked the Impala, smiling as Dean was still going over the events of the hunt, and then paused as he noticed both of his sons reached for the front door.

"I'm riding shotgun." Dean told Sam, nudging him out of the way with his shoulder.

"Uh, you rode shotgun here." Sam nudged right back. "I'm not riding all the way to Bobby's in the back again. My legs are longer than yours, Dean!"

"We are stopping at a motel. It's only for a few hours." John cut into the argument. "Just get in the car, please."

"But Dad, that's not-" Sam stopped himself as John gave him a familiar look across the top of the shiny black hood. "Fine." He mumbled, letting go of the handle moodily, and climbed in the back behind Dean.

"You always want him to ride beside him..." Sam mumbled, buckling his seat belt.

"What was that?" John asked, already turning the key in the ignition.

Sam didn't answer, turning to look out the window, knowing his father wouldn't like the answer. Luckily, John let it go, but not before giving his son a once over, wondering if Sam was feeling sick or something. He usually was more engaged in the hunt, and willing to join the conversation.

After thirty minutes on the road of Dean and John discussing the elements of the case, Sam was trying to block it out. He stared out the window, shifting to get comfortable. His knees accidentally bumped into the back of Dean's seat, as he moved, trying to find a place to lay down.