A.N.: Thank you all for reading and a special thanks to those of you who took the time to leave a review. Your words and feedback mean so much to me! A big thank you to Youngest Ones Rule for beta'ing this story. She has been doing a fantastic job!

I wish you all happy holidays!

During the drive home, John thought of all the possibilities that could have prevented his sons from answering the phone. None of them were acceptable.

They could have fallen asleep in front of the TV after eating too much candy. He remembered the last time he had taken Dean out trick-or-treating, just a few days before …

His little boy had been dressed up as a cowboy. Once they had returned home, he and Dean had made themselves comfortable in front of the TV, stuffing as much candy in their mouths as possible. He could still hear Dean's giggles as he grabbed for the biggest candy bars in the bag and could see Mary's disapproving look at him – it had been betrayed however, by the smile playing on her lips. She had tried hard to hide it from him. Dean had fallen asleep in his arms that night and John had dozed off and on as well.

It was possible his boys had spent the night like this - possible, but not very likely. Dean always made sure to stay up until John called. He had never fallen asleep before.

Course, he'd never taken Sam out trick-or-treating before either.

Maybe they had run into friends and had been invited to their home?

When John was a kid, he had spent every Halloween at his best friend's house. Did his sons even have best friends? Had they been here long enough for that? He wasn't sure about Dean, the boy had never mentioned anyone, but Sam had talked about a few friends he had made in school. He had never spent any time with them outside of school though. His sons' free time was always spent together.

Maybe, this once, Sam had chosen to visit one of his friends and Dean had gone with him. It was Halloween, after all. It wasn't likely Dean would have agreed to it though, not when he knew that John expected them to be home at a certain time.

Whatever had kept his boys from being home to answer his call, it was nothing they would have done voluntarily.

They could be hurt. A car accident maybe - or something worse.

Hundreds of ways his sons could have gotten hurt ran through his mind. Monsters, spirits, zombies, ghouls, psychotic killers – Halloween attracted all kinds of dangerous beings. He should have never allowed his sons to leave the house in his absence. He should have never left! If he had acted like a father just this once …

When he got home and found the house empty, his worst fears seemed to be confirmed. His sons had never returned home from their Halloween trip. There were no candy wrappers to be seen, no signs indicating that his sons had come back. He didn't waste any time waiting for them to maybe suddenly show up. It was already after nine. If his boys were alright, Dean would have made sure his little brother was tucked in bed by now.

He ran out of the house and jumped back into the Impala, beginning his frantic search of the streets. Most kids had already returned to their homes; if his boys were somewhere outside, it shouldn't be hard to see them. As he drove through the neighborhoods, he tried to remember any places his sons had talked about since moving here. They had gone to the park a few times; Sam loved the playground there. Every Saturday they went to the theater; John had accompanied them once, but sitting around for two hours and watching movies suitable for children hadn't been his favorite way to spend his time. He had taken them to a diner a few streets away a few times. Both boys liked it there; the waitress always spoiled them rotten whenever they came in and the food was pretty decent. However Dean wouldn't have taken his brother to any of these places at this hour.

What else was there?

Then he remembered his conversation with Sam right before he left; the story about some old widow who was supposed to be haunting a house somewhere between the school and their apartment. Dean had told him the same story weeks ago; John had made a quick check on it, but had found out there was nothing to it. He hadn't expected to find anything either.

Had he overlooked something? If his boys had gone in there … If the story was true … Shivers ran down his spine and John cursed under his breath as he tried to remember the address.

Lincoln Avenue! That had been it. He'd checked the address for any unsolved murders. He hadn't found anything, but he had only checked the last ten years. What if he'd missed something?

Five minutes later he stood in front of the abandoned house at 65 Lincoln Avenue, using his axe to get through the door which wouldn't open, no matter what he tried.

He didn't need any more proof than that to know something was wrong.

Once he was inside, everything happened fast. An unearthly wail pierced the darkness and a moment later a ghostly figure appeared before him, racing toward him. John raised his shotgun, fired at the spirit, and watched it dissipate in front of him.

Another scream echoed off the walls of the old house and John's heart dropped to his stomach.

"Dean? Sam?" He called loudly, running down the hall.

He came to a sudden stop when he reached the kitchen and saw a hunched over boy sitting in the middle of a salt circle, screaming his lungs out. He quickly walked up to him and grabbed his shoulders.

"Hey, calm down. Calm down!" He barked and the boy immediately stilled.

With wide, scared eyes he looked at John.

"You're alone in here?" John asked, getting right down to business. The salt circle alone was all the answer he really needed.

The boy shook his head.

"Where are they?" John asked, his heart beating wildly in his chest. His boys were here, he knew it.

The boy merely stared as if he didn't understand the question. John could see he was in shock – watching a vengeful spirit attacking could do that to a person, much less a child. He'd never understand how people could be so stupid as to walk into a house they were sure, or even thought was haunted. They should know better.

Dean knew better. Yet he was now sure his son had come into this house, with Sammy at his side, as always.

"Sammy! Dean! Are you here?" He called loudly, hoping to receive an answer this time. "SAM? DEAN?"

A moment later a door at the other end of the kitchen flew open and John saw his youngest stumbling toward him. A wave of relief washed over him as he leapt forward, dropped down and slung his arms around his boy.

"Daddy!" Sam sobbed, burying his head onto the larger, stronger shoulder.

"Sammy, are you all right? Where's Dean?" He gently moved Sam back a few inches to get a good look at him. He was pale and trembling all over. When John spotted the blood on his costume, his heart skipped a beat. "God Sammy, what …"

He carefully lifted up the blanket and clothes Sam was wearing. He noted the cloth that was wrapped around his son's waist and the blood that had already soaked through it.

"It's okay, Dad, D-Dean took care of-of it." Sam said, still half-sobbing and with tears rolling down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away with the back of his hand as if he was afraid his Dad would see them.

"Where's Dean, Sammy?" John asked while getting out of his jacket and wrapping it around his son to warm him.

"In there." Sam pointed towards the pantry from whence he came.

John looked at the open door, not able to see anything in the darkness. Fear washed over him – if Dean was in there, why hadn't he come out yet? He had taken care of his brother – had he been able to do the same for himself? Had he been hurt too badly? Was he too late?

"Dean?" He called. He lifted Sam up in his arms and quickly walked toward the small pantry.

---SPN---

Dean sat quivering in the pantry, safe behind the salt. The flashlight lay on his lap, lighting the spot where Sam had been just a moment ago.

Sam, who had just gone out toward their dad's voice.

Sam, who didn't know that there were things out there that could you trick into believing it was safe to follow a voice.

Sam, who Dean had vowed to protect!

He wanted to run after him so badly, but his body refused to move. His mind screamed to get up, leave the pantry and save his brother, but the fear he felt deep down made him stay.

Desperation washed over him as he thought about what might be happening to Sam at this moment. He hadn't heard anything, no painful screams, just Sam calling for their dad and murmurs from the darkness, words spoken two quiet for him to understand.

Then his father's voice again … calling his name!

There was fear in that voice – what more proof did he need to know this couldn't be their father? John Winchester was never afraid, of anything!

Not like his son, who couldn't even get up to save his brother.

He heard steps coming closer quickly and without thinking, he raised the fire iron.

Daisy had his brother; he was sure of it. Why else had she only called for him? Called for him with his dad's voice! A violent anger replaced the fear he had held in every fiber and Dean jumped up and ran out of the pantry, growling angrily and holding the iron in front of him to pierce the spirit. This bitch wouldn't keep his brother, not again!

"Dean!"

His father's voice called out, surprised and angry and a hand grabbed his arm, holding it firmly. Dean screamed in frustration and tried to pull free, but the hand remained unyielding on his arm.

"Dean, damn it, snap out of it!" John barked again.

Dean blinked and for the first time really looked at the figure that had approached the pantry.

His Dad! With Sammy in his arms!

All fight rushed out of his body and he dropped the iron on the ground.

"D-dad?" He stammered.

"It's okay, son." John shifted Sam to one side and put his freed arm around Dean and pulled him into a short, quick hug. "Are you hurt?"

Dean shook his head, still having trouble grasping that his dad was really here. He could feel him, touch him, smell the familiar scent that was his father. No spirit could duplicate that.

"Sam's hurt." He eventually choked out.

"I know. You took good care of him, son." John gave Dean's shoulder a quick squeeze, before he let go of him.

Dean immediately missed the contact, the reassurance everything would be okay, that they were safe now.

"Come on! Let's get out of here before she comes back."

---SPN---

Dean didn't say anything when Todd climbed into the passenger seat of the Impala. That was his spot, but right now he wanted to stay at Sam's side, making sure his brother was okay. As they left the house, he hadn't even really been aware Todd was with them.

When their father carefully placed Sam on the backseat, Dean immediately put his arm around him, holding him close. Sam snuggled gratefully into the embrace and placed his head on his shoulder.

"Can I sleep now, Dean?" He mumbled, already half asleep.

Dean exchanged a glance with his dad and after receiving a short nod, he told Sam it was okay. He felt the tension slowly leave his body when Sam breathed out in relief and fully closed his eyes. He was asleep within moments.

It didn't take long for the familiar rumble of the Impala and the sound of Sam's rhythmic breathing to make Dean feel drowsy. He struggled to stay awake; he wanted to be alert to protect Sammy. He wasn't going to fail his little brother again. His eyelids grew heavier with each passing block and when they stopped in front of Todd's house, he allowed himself to close his eyes, just for a second.

When he opened them again, he saw hands grabbing for his brother, pulling Sam away from him.

"No!" He yelled, jerking up and beating at the hands near his brother.

"Dean! Dean, it's okay, it's okay!"

Dean then recognized his dad's voice and immediately stilled. Blushing, he noticed the hands belonged to his dad.

"Sorry." He mumbled. It seemed he couldn't do anything right tonight.

"Let's get inside." John said.

He took Sam in his arms and carried him out of the car and to the house. It was only then that Dean noticed they were home. Dean quickly scrambled out of the car and followed his family. Once inside, he closed the door behind him, shutting everything evil out.

They were finally safe.

He watched how their dad carefully laid Sam on the couch and checked on his wound. He swallowed when he saw the blood soaked cloth he had used to stop the bleeding. Another thing he had failed to do.

He thought he'd been doing things right.

He sat down at the end of the couch and gently stroked Sam's hair while their dad took care of the wound. Dean inwardly flinched every time his father touched the wound, but Sam was blessedly unaware of everything around him, still soundly asleep.

"Will he be okay?"

"Of course." John smiled at him hastily before returning to Sam.

When he had finally finished dressing the wound, he turned his full attention to Dean.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine." Dean shook his head. He was still trembling slightly, but wasn't sure if it was from the cold, exhaustion or because he was still totally freaked out about everything that had happened that night. He knew he needed to pull himself together to prove to his dad that he had things under control. That he was fine.

"The spirit didn't hurt you?" John inquired. "You're moving pretty stiffly. Why don't you let me check you over?"

"I'm fine, Dad, really." Dean whispered. He pressed his hands firmly together, willing his body to just stop trembling!

"It wasn't really a question, son." John smiled. "Come on, pull up your shirt."

Dean did as he was told, slowly lifting up his shirt; his shivers increased when the cold air hit with his exposed skin. He heard his father breathe in sharply.

"That's gotta hurt." John mumbled sympathetically. "There's a pretty bad bruise on your back. The spirit threw you through the air?"

Dean nodded, not daring to look at his father's eyes. He didn't want to see the disappointment in them.

"Happens to the best. I'll get you some ice and then I'll tug you to bed. You both need your rest."

Dean looked up at him in surprise. His father didn't sound disappointed. Happens to the best? "Did you ever …. I mean …"

"Get slammed around a few times? More often than I'd like, son. There's not much you can do about it."

"It got Sam." Dean pressed out.

John nodded. "But you saved him."

Dean shook his head vehemently. "I let her get him. I didn't get us out. I …"

"You did everything you could, Dean. You did good. Of course …" John looked sternly at his son. "You know you should have never gone into that house."

Dean froze. "I know, Sir."

"What where you thinking?"

"I … I thought it was safe. You said … I thought …" Dean's eyes dropped down. "I'm sorry."

His dad remained quiet and Dean braced himself for what was to come. He'd never be allowed to look after Sam again, he knew that. He had screwed up so badly.

He jumped when a blanket was placed over his shoulders and his father's hand ruffled his hair.

"I'm sorry too, Dean."

Surprised, Dean looked up at him. "What for?"

"You thought the house was safe because I told you it was. I should have checked better. I screwed up."

"I shouldn't have gone in there anyway."

"No, you shouldn't have." John agreed sternly.

They sat in silence for a while, both turning their gazes from each other to watch the youngest member of their family sleep. Eventually, John got up and carefully lifted Sam into his arms to carry him into the boys' room. Sam never woke up.

"Come on, time to go to bed." He urged Dean to follow.

After a moment of simply staring at his dad's back, seeing Sam's feet dangle off to the side, Dean got up and walked into the bedroom he shared with his brother.

---SPN---

John watched his sons sleeping peacefully.

He had come so close tonight to losing them both. He had screwed up when he hadn't believed the story both his boys had told him about Daisy. He wasn't the only guilty party. He knew Dean blamed himself for what happened tonight and as much as it pained him to see his son hurting, he believed this had been a good lesson for him to learn. His eldest would never again go into an empty house unprepared.

He hadn't told him, but he was proud of Dean. Not only had he kept Sam safe, he had known exactly what to do. Staying safe inside the salt circle and using the fire iron as a weapon against Daisy – Dean had done everything John had taught him. Dean had learned the lessons well despite his age. Once he was old enough, he would make the perfect hunter.

Casting a last glance at his sons, John dragged himself from the room. He still had to take care of the spirit. He wouldn't let Daisy get her hands on anyone else ever again. When he had checked the story, back when Dean had first told him about it, he had also looked up where Daisy Hacky was buried. A quick salt and burn would take care of business and he'd be back before either of his boys would wake up.

And when they did, he would make up for his mistake.

He had the bedroom door almost shut behind him, when he heard Sam's small voice call for him. Hastily, he slipped back into the room, a glance telling him Dean hadn't woken up. That alone told him how exhausted his eldest must be; Dean usually always woke to Sam's calls, too many nightmares disturbing his youngest's sleep had proven that.

"What is it, Sammy?" He asked in a whispered voice.

"Daddy? Are we home?"

John swallowed a lump in his throat. "Yeah, you're home. How're you feeling?"

"My side hurts." He whimpered.

John gently stroked his hand through Sam's hair. He wished he could give his son something against the pain. He had a few medications for children in the med kit, but no pain relievers suitable for children.

"Try to get back to sleep, Sammy. It'll be better in the morning."

"Promise?"

"Promise." John smiled. His first stop after the visit to the cemetery would be at the pharmacy to get pain relievers for his sons. He should have done this long ago. Tears were brimming in his eyes. It was in situations like these that he missed Mary the most. She would have been prepared for this, would have had everything at hand to take their children's pain away. He cursed himself inwardly for not being stronger than this. His children meant the world to him and to see them suffering … it was even worse knowing he was partly responsible. If only he had checked the house more thoroughly… If only he had never left tonight… If only he had been more alert that fateful night six years ago …

"Dad …" Sam's voice sounded hesitant. "There was a ghost in that house."

John froze. He didn't want this conversation. He couldn't … not now, not after tonight.

"Did you see it?" Sam asked.

John nodded, not able to form any words at the moment.

"Ghosts are real." Sam said quietly. It wasn't a question.

"Yes, it seems they are." John replied hoarsely.

"Did you know?"

John's heart broke in that moment. What was he supposed to say? Sam was six years old. He was too young to learn the truth. He didn't … he couldn't … He had already forced Dean to grow up way before his time; he couldn't do the same to Sam.

He just couldn't.

"I didn't know there was a ghost in that house, Sammy. If I had known … if I had thought you and Dean were in danger … I would have never left. You know that, right?"

Sam looked thoughtfully at him; for a moment John was afraid that he would call him a liar. He didn't think he'd survive that tonight.

"Dean was there. He fought Daisy and saved us." A proud smile appeared on Sam's lips, followed by a yawn.

It didn't go unnoticed by John. "Get back to sleep, Sammy. We don't want to wake your brother."

"Okay." Sam snuggled deeper under the blanket until it was pulled up to his nose. "Too bad we lost all the candy." He mumbled as his eyes fell closed. A few moments later he was deep asleep.

John watched him with a broken heart, wanting nothing more than to go back in time and never leave his boys alone.

---SPN---

"Dean. Dean, wake up."

Dean groaned and tried to move away from the hand shaking his arm.

"Dean, wake up!"

When the blanket was pulled away, Dean finally opened his eyes. He saw Sam sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at him with a broad smile. His face was painted with white make up and he wore his ghost costume from yesterday.

"Happy Halloween." Sam grinned.

Dean's eyes widened and he was certain he had gone crazy over night. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on." Sam took his hand and pulled him out of bed. Dean winced when he got up, proving his injury from last night was still there. Sam's costume was free of blood though.

What the hell was going on?

"Good Morning." John greeted him when he and Sam entered the kitchen. The scent of fresh baked – and slightly burned – pancakes hung in the air.

"Sit down and enjoy your breakfast." John smiled.

Dean hesitated a moment and looked confusedly between his father and brother.

"Don't you have to go back to Travis?"

"No." John shook his head. "I talked to him about an hour ago. He got rid of the spirit with no problems. He was just too lazy to do the research on his own." He added with a grin.

"Dad made me a new costume." Sam cut in proudly, waving his arms to show his brother.

Dean was sure he must have misunderstood. "What?"

Sam smiled widely and John shrugged sheepishly. "You boys deserve a real Halloween."

"We have candy too." Sam added grinning.

"Candy?" Dean asked perplexed.

"I bought some on my way back from … "John stopped himself before he said too much. "I bought some this morning. I also rented a few movies."

"We can watch TV all day and eat as much candy as we want and Dad will be home all day." Sam cheered excited. "This will be the best Halloween ever."

A sudden memory of him and his dad sitting in front of the TV stuffing candy in their mouths flashed through Dean's mind. It was followed by a warm feeling which spread through his body and for some reason his vision blurred and his eyes felt wet.

"Don't you want that?" Sam asked disappointed.

Dean wiped his hand over his eyes and a smile spread over his face. "I want this." He leaned over and jabbed at a pancake. "It sounds perfect."

"I thought you might like it." John smiled. "Now sit down. The pancakes will get cold."

The end.