You Can Tune a Piano, But You Can't Tuna Fish

By Brate

John Winchester looked up from his notes to check on his boys. They were actually staying in a fairly nice motel for once—a good value—including a large, clean pool. A miracle in itself.

Arms wrapped around a duffel bag almost bigger than he was, Sammy had craned his head as he came up the concrete stairway to stare at the large rectangle of water in the center of the court. "Hey, Dean, look. Blue."

"Yep. Doesn't look like anything's died in it recently, either," Dean agreed, while he waited for John to work the key into the door.

It reminded the oldest Winchester how the water in the cracked concrete pools at the sorts of places they usually frequented was more often than not Mississippi brown, when it was present at all and not just a hole for wasted neighbors to take suicide stumbles into.

Somehow in the space between shouldering open the door and dropping the weapons bag on the bed, John had let himself be talked into sitting by the pool. He could do his research just as easily out there, and if the boys were swimming, they weren't bothering him.

John settled on a lounger with his research materials around him. Opening his third book, he glanced up and saw Sammy still hadn't moved from his spot along the float-covered rope dividing the shallow end from the deep. Skinny arms hugged the rope as he watched the other side of the pool expectantly. John sighed. Knowing it wouldn't do any good, he called, "Sammy, you have the whole shallow end to play in."

"I know," Sammy answered, not moving or taking his eyes from his big brother. Older and more aquatically adept, Dean was allowed to swim in the deep end without supervision. Though a fairly good swimmer himself, five-year-old Sam was only allowed to swim in the deeper water when John got in the pool. Since he was working, Sammy remained in the shallow end.

John attempted to return to work, but his eyes kept roaming over to the water. Sammy moved back and forth holding onto the rope, never straying far from his brother who was tossing a quarter into the water and diving down to the bottom to collect it over and over again. Dean would pop above the waterline, throw the coin over his shoulder, and start again.

Plop. Splash. Plop. Splash.

Trying to refocus his attention on the page, the words blurred together as if in admonishment as the silent figure scooted up and down the rope. John frowned and ignored the movement out of the corner of his eye to read again the passage on Amanojakus. They were mean little buggers that sure as shooting he'd run into some day if he didn't write this information down, Murphy's Law being what it was and the Winchesters currently on its hit list. In a cramped scrawl, John filled the top half of one of the notebook pages with the key descriptors, then added a heavy-handed sketch of the Japanese folk symbol printed at the top of the page of text.

His head snapped up when the rhythm of the plunking suddenly became laughter and a whole lot of splashing. Two voices shouted together. He squinted against the afternoon glare off the water. Of course, Dean now resided in the shallow end. John shook his head. He should've known the older boy couldn't disappoint his brother.

"Hold your breath. Hold your breath, Sammy, and try to pick it up." Dean held up the shiny quarter. "I'll drop it right in front of you."

Sammy nodded, watching the quarter and his brother, eyes bright.

"Ready. Set. Go!"

Sammy dove as soon as the coin hit the water, never mind that he splashed his brother and sent a tidal wave's worth of water over the edge as he did. He really was becoming a good swimmer.

John looked down at his page, loaded with death and terror, then back up at his boys, radiant with life and happiness. With a sigh of resignation, he closed his books, stacked his papers, and took off his shirt, throwing it over his work to protect it from prying eyes and splashing water. He had something more important than research today. There wasn't a whole lot of "normal" he could give his boys anymore, but one day wasn't too much to ask.

With a whoop, John jumped into the pool, drenching the boys.

"Daddy!" Sammy squealed in delight as his father tossed him over his shoulder into the deep end. Dean's teeth shone in his wide smile just before ducking underwater to escape his father's clutches and swimming to Sammy's side in the deeper water.

A rare feeling of warmth spread through John as he observed his boys. Dean would watch over Sammy without being told and would never leave him behind. And Sammy had a big brother to look up to, his own personal hero.

Whatever else John accomplished in this life, this would be his most important achievement.

Putting aside such heavy thoughts, John smiled evilly and dove under the water. He had slippery boys to catch.

Feedback to brate01@hotmail.com