NINETEEN

Dean stood between a fidgety Sammy and a patient Uncle Bobby at the Sioux Falls Airport baggage claim.

Each time someone new came through the door, his ten year-old heart beat just a little bit faster. And each time it wasn’t Dad, he deflated.

He just wanted Dad to come back home safe. The safe part, at least, he knew was the case.

Dad had called Uncle Bobby last night after Dean was supposed to be in bed. But unlike Sammy, he hadn’t been able to sleep. So when the phone rang, he slid out of bed, snuck quietly onto the upstairs landing, and listened to Uncle Bobby’s side of the conversation coming from the kitchen.

“Good.... Yeah, okay.” He paused while John talked on the other end of the line. “Yeah, I figured Wallace would know his business. What?... Oh yeah, sure. That makes sense. Well, send the sword back, you ain’t gonna want to run that sucker through the metal detector, and I sure as hell wouldn’t trust it to the idjits who handle checked luggage. Be lucky if the damn thing don’t wind up in Outer Mongolia by mistake....

“Just charge it to the FedEx account, for cryin’ out loud.... All right. I’ll put it on ice when it gets here, in case we need it again in twenty years. Yeah, we’ll meetcha when the flight lands—I’ll even bring the Impala. It’s runnin’ all nice and smooth now, just needed an oil change and some tunin’.

“What?... Yeah, I said ‘we.’ I’ll bring the boys along. They wanna see you.... Why shouldn’t I bring ‘em.... Good....

“Okay, seeya John.”

After he’d heard the beep of Uncle Bobby ending the call, Dean had been happy. Dad was alive—and based on the way he and Uncle Bobby had been arguing, he was as ornery as ever.

That, Dean knew, meant Dad was okay.

Waiting there in the airport, he understood how important it was for Dad to be away so much—more than Sammy ever could. Sammy hadn’t really known Mom, since he was just a baby when she died. Dean couldn’t imagine that his baby brother would ever truly understand what had happened to her.

If he was honest with himself, he didn’t really understand it, either. There were some days—though he’d never admit this to anyone—when he couldn’t even remember what she looked like.

Some kind of monster had killed Mom, and Dad wouldn’t rest until he found that monster and killed it. Along the way, he’d kill any other monsters who tried to kill other people’s moms.

Because Dad was a hero, and that was what heroes did.

Finally, a familiar dark-haired head appeared behind a bickering couple. Dad moved past them, walking quickly, a broad smile widening inside his stubble.

Sammy hadn’t been paying attention to much of anything, but as soon as Dad walked through the door, he jumped up and ran.

“Daaaaad!”

“What a baby,” Dean said, and he pretended it was no big deal that Dad was back.

“You boys doin’ all right?”

“We’re doin’ great, Dad!” Sammy was practically bouncing up and down. “I beat Dean at checkers and then he won hide-and-seek, but it’s okay ‘cause I beat him at Yahtzee!”

Dean was about to point out that Sammy only won one game of Yahtzee, but Uncle Bobby put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

Reluctantly, Dean kept quiet. Sammy was happy to see Dad, and Uncle Bobby didn’t want Dean to rain on his parade.

So all he said was, “Good to see you, Dad.”

“Glad to see both you boys. Oh, and I’ve got something for ya!” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out two tiny plastic rectangles, handing one to Sammy with one hand, and reaching toward Dean with the other.

It was a miniature California license plate, with DEAN where the number would’ve been.

Sammy’s eyes went wide—his said, SAM.

“Wow! This is so great!”

“Can only get ‘em in San Francisco,” Dad said with a smile. “Had to get you boys somethin’ special.”

Since Sammy was so happy to have his, Dean said nothing.

But he knew that items like this could be found in lots of places in California. And that airports in particular had souvenir shops that sold them. He’d only gone flying once, and he really really really really hated it, but he remembered those shops.

Which meant Dad probably grabbed these quickly, on the way to catch the plane. Based on Uncle Bobby’s half of the conversation on the phone last night, he hadn’t even expected his sons to be at the airport.

Then Dad ruffled Sammy’s hair and walked up to Dean. He put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and gave him one of his most serious expressions, the one he used whenever he was saying something really important.

“You took good care of Sammy, didn’t ya?”

Dean swallowed, and suddenly felt incredibly guilty. He remembered, too, the words Dad spoke to him the night Mom died. They were always in his mind, but just now they echoed so very loudly.

“Take your brother outside as fast as you can—don’t look back.

“Now, Dean, go!”

So he straightened his shoulders, and looked his father right in the eye.

“Yes, sir!”

Dad smiled. “That’s my boy.”

“C’mon,” Uncle Bobby said, “let’s get outta here.”

They walked to the parking lot. Dean got a little steamed when Sammy started going on and on about the one and only time he beat Dean at Yahtzee, but then he thought about Dad’s words and let it go again.

Dad still fought the bad guys and saved people, but he also cared about his sons.

Because Dad was a hero, and that was what heroes did.