A/N: I was babysitting my nephew when this popped into my head. It isn't long, but I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

The dark scenery flew by as the Impala ate up the road underneath it. Then, the hands on the steering wheel tightened their white-knuckled grip as a wail cut through the silent car.

John glanced in the rearview mirror to see two-year old Sam scrunching up his face and letting loose another ear splitting cry. Dean had managed to sleep through the first one. Sam had been interrupting his sleep for the past three days and he was exhausted. But, when the second scream echoed through the car, Dean was jolted awake from his position against the door.

Sam had been teething and nothing John had tried was helping. Needless to say, tensions were running high due to the small amount of sleep both he and Dean were getting. Even Dean's affection for his younger sibling was wearing thin.

"Sammy," six-year old Dean pleaded sleepily, the only response was another cry.

John increased the pressure on the accelerator, wanting to make it to the next motel as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, they were in the middle of nowhere and a solid hour had gone without any sign of a break, and no sign of Sam ceasing his crying.

Dean had finally given up on trying to calm Sam down and had curled up into a ball by the window, his hands pressed firmly against his ears to block off the sound.

"Sammy," John tried for the hundredth time. "Come on, kid. Give us a break."

No such luck.

Another hour later and John was contemplating pulling off to the side of the road in order to escape the car for just a minute.

"Dad," Dean whined, finally removing his hands from his ears. "Make him stop."

"Damn it, Dean. I'm trying!" John snapped irritably.

Dean blinked in shock at his dad's outburst, he still wasn't used to his dad yelling at him. He could kind of remember some fights between his dad and mom, but he was never yelled at like this. Pressing his lips together so that they wouldn't tremble, Dean pulled his legs up to rest on the seat and leaned over to Sam's car seat. Reaching out, he grabbed one of Sam's small clenched fists in his own.

While he lightly held onto his hand, Dean reached down and grabbed up Sammy's blanket that he had knocked off during one of his kicking fits. Tucking the blanket around his brother, Dean leaned in close and began to quietly hum.

John listened close through the noise of the car and Sam's continual screams. It didn't take him long to recognize the tune and for his heart to clench at the memory. It was the song that Mary always used to sing to them, Hey Jude. He didn't think that Dean had remembered it, he hadn't heard it since before Mary's death and John certainly wouldn't play it anymore. More than a third of the pitches were wrong, but having not heard it in a year and a half, it was still heartbreakingly recognizable.

Sam's screams slowly turned into soft hiccupping cries as Dean continued to hum, still holding onto his hand. Laying his head against Sam's car seat, Dean's eyes began to drift close, almost in time with Sam's. After a few more minutes, Dean fell silent and John glanced back to see both of his boys asleep, Dean having accomplished what he could not. As he looked at Dean, who reminded him so much of his late wife, John could almost hear Mary's voice expressing her disapproval for how he had snapped at Dean. So, two hours later, when he had finally found a place to stop, he didn't wake Dean up to walk in like he normally would, but pulled his sleeping boys up in his arms, carried them in and laid them softly on the bed. He had no idea how he was going to get through raising the two boys on his own, but he knew for Dean and Sam's sake, he had to try a hell of a lot harder than he had been.