John smiled, as happy as Dean had seen him in months. "You ready, son?"

Dean, Sammy safe in his arms, nodded.

"Well, let's go fishing, then!" John whooped.

Laughing, Dean handed the toddler down into the boat. "Got him?"

"Got him." John sat Sammy on the tarp at the bottom of the boat and tied a yellow life preserver around him. "Get the mooring line, Dean."

Dean did so, then jumped down into the boat, sitting next to his wide-eyed little brother.

Roaring out a sea shanty, John turned on the motor and the Winchesters chugged out of the harbor.