Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke.
Author's Note: Special thanks to LadyWallace for the help and encouragement on this chapter. I was having a hard time finding my inner Dean.
"Because brothers don't let each other wander in the dark alone." –Jolene Perry
Chapter 2
Dean wasn't sure what woke him exactly. He didn't think he'd been asleep too long. His clothes still felt very damp and increasingly uncomfortable against his body. He shivered against a sudden gust of cold air that brushed his skin. It felt like the air conditioner was on. The sound of passing traffic was louder than it should be. Dean surged to a sitting position, his heart pounding in his chest.
The door to the motel room was open. He immediately looked to the room's other bed. It was empty. Sammy was gone.
Dean nearly threw himself out of bed. He stumbled to the door and threw it open. "Sammy!" His heart pounded almost painfully in his chest.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness outside of the motel room, he spied a small form huddled against the Impala's front tire. "Sammy?" he asked softly, trying not to scare his brother, "what are you doing out here?"
"I want Momma," the little boy sobbed brokenly, "and I had a bad dream."
Dean knelt beside his little brother. "It scared me when I woke up and you weren't in bed."
Sammy only sniffled and stared at Dean. Snot ran out of his nose and mingled with his tears.
"Let's go back in. It's cold out here." Dean stood and reached for his brother's hand.
"No, don't want to," the little boy spat petulantly.
It was late and Dean was tired. "That's not how you speak to grown-ups, Sammy." He took the child's hand and was somewhat prepared when the little boy began to struggle against his hold.
"I don't wanna go back in there. It's scary!" Sammy yelled as he threw himself against the side of the Impala.
Dean frowned. "Why's it scary?"
"'Cause I don't want my bad dream to come back," the three-year-old sniffled.
Dean sighed. He had a feeling he wasn't going to get much sleep tonight. "How about if I let you stay up a while and watch some cartoons?" Surely, he could find some cable channel with cartoons to occupy his little brother.
Sammy thought about this for a moment. "I don't have to go to sleep?" he queried anxiously.
"Not right now," Dean assured him, too tired to argue with the kid. "Maybe you can try again later when you aren't so scared. Will you come in now?"
Sammy considered the idea for a moment and then nodded slowly. He didn't take the hand his big brother offered, but did walk by Dean's side as they returned to the room.
Once inside with the door closed and locked behind them, Dean reached for the remote on the bedside table and flipped channels until he found an old Woody Woodpecker cartoon for Sammy. The little boy chewed his bottom lip nervously before crawling onto the room's other bed where he had been sleeping before. Dean watched him for a moment before he sat on the far side of his own bed and unlaced his boots. Tugging them off, he put them to the side. Then he slipped out of his wet clothes and dressed in sleep pants and an old faded t-shirt.
Sitting back on the bed with a groan, he scooted until he could relax against the headboard. Then he glanced over to check on his brother. Sammy, the Impala still clutched in once fist, had curled up with his head on a pillow as he watched the cartoon silently. His little face was drawn and sad.
Dean got up briefly to retrieve the laptop from the table, but immediately settled back in the same place on the bed. Sammy didn't move except to stick two fingers on his left hand into his mouth. He sucked on them contentedly and his eyes began to dip closed. Dean found himself mesmerized as the boy's long lashes dusted his pale cheeks. It was in that moment that Sammy's big brother caught a glimpse of his father in the child. Dean's heart ached. Wouldn't John have loved to be here having a sleepover with Sammy? John had always idolized the little boy and had called him every night when away on a hunt with Dean. In fact, John had made quite the effort to return to Minnesota often to see his youngest son.
Dean shook himself out of his reverie. John was gone, and Sammy had no one, no one except Dean himself who knew nothing about kids. He had no business thinking he could raise a three-year-old with the life he lived, yet at the same time he owed it to both Sammy and his father to try. Dean was caught between a rock and a hard place with no way out.
Sammy sighed from the other bed as he finally relaxed in slumber. His fingers hung slack in his mouth. Dean exhaled in relief and hoped that Sammy would manage to sleep through the night without any more nightmares. It had been a long day and he was exhausted; his body craved sleep. Dean shut down the laptop and placed it beside him on the bed before he turned the volume down on the television, deciding to leave it on in case Sammy woke up.
Dean must have fallen asleep because a shrill scream jolted him from a sound sleep. A sobbing voice shouted, "Momma! Momma!"
"Sammy!" Dean nearly fell out of his bed as he stumbled the few feet to the bed his little brother slept in.
"Don't go, Momma! Don't go! It's bad, Momma. So bad," Sammy continued to cry. His entire body was rigid as Dean grasped his shoulder and began to gently try to shake him awake.
"Sammy, it's just a dream," Dean soothed. He had no idea what to say to a terrified little boy who was caught in the midst of a nightmare. "Wake up now, kiddo."
Sammy began to fight against Dean's touch and nearly choked on a sob. Then, suddenly, he blinked his eyes open and seemed to realize that someone was sitting beside him. "Momma?" he whispered hopefully.
"It's Dean, Sammy," his big brother told him as a now familiar ache started in his chest. He hated to see the three-year-old suffer, but he didn't know how to ease the child's pain. There was no relief from the grief of losing of a parent. Dean still hadn't recovered from John's death, so how could he help a small child understand why his mother was no longer here to care for him and love him? The world seemed such a cruel, cold place to Dean when innocent little boys like Sammy had to suffer.
Broken hearted cries began then, and Sammy pulled away from his brother and scooted to the far side of the bed as far away from Dean as he could get. "I want Momma," the boy sobbed.
Dean ran a frustrated hand through his short hair. "I know you do, Sammy, but you can't come back once you go to heaven. Your Momma is gone now."
The little boy cried even harder at Dean's words and the older Winchester inwardly cursed at himself for saying them out loud. "Do you want to watch some more cartoons?"
Sammy wails only intensified. He turned his back to Dean and flopped onto the bed burying his face in the pillow. Dean reached out and touched his shoulder once, but Sammy only whined and pulled away.
Dean cleared his throat. "Uh, I'll be right over here on my bed if you need me, dude. Okay?" he told his brother awkwardly. When there was no answer, he bit back a sigh and crawled beneath the blankets of his own bed.
It took a while, but Sammy's cries finally tapered off to sniffles and whimpers. Dean stared at the cartoons on the television screen without really seeing them. Tomorrow was getting terrifyingly closer, and he had no idea what to do with the three-year-old across the room from him.
Dean shifted down onto the pillows and burrowed into the blankets. He was exhausted in mind and body, but sleep refused to come. He could still hear the faint sniffles from across the room and the soft drone of the TV.
Dean must have dozed off at some point. He opened his eyes to the ringing of his cell phone and the early morning sunlight peeking through the motel's dingy curtains. He grabbed the phone off of the bedside table, hoping to keep it from waking Sammy. "Hello," he answered, his voice still gravely from sleep. He glanced over to the other bed to see Sammy shifting restlessly beneath the covers.
"Dean, have you heard about Laurie?" Bobby Singer's worried voice crackled over the static in the line.
"Uh, yeah," Dean cleared his throat and anxiously watched his little brother poke his tussled brown head out from under the covers and rub his eyes sleepily with a pudgy fist.
"Where's Samuel, Dean?" Bobby asked. John had taken his youngest son to see the hunter from time to time, and Bobby had developed a soft spot for the little boy.
"I have him with me," Dean yawned, as he ran his hand over the scruff that covered his jawline.
"Dean, what in the world are you going to do with a kid?" Bobby sighed.
"I don't know, Bobby," the older Winchester brother answered, "but I'm all he's got.
"I could ask around, find someone who'd take him," the older hunter offered hesitantly.
Dean bit his lip. The thought of being free of the responsibility was tempting, but this was his brother, his flesh and blood. His father would want him to keep Sammy with him.
The little boy chose that moment to turn and blink sleepily at Dean.
The older Winchester forced a smile for his brother's sake. "I don't think that's a good idea right now, Bobby," Dean answered. "I can tell you more later, but the kid's right here in the room with me. I can't really talk about it."
"Ah, okay," the other hunter answered. "Well, why don't you bring him here and stay with me a few days? It will at least give you a chance to figure out what you're going to do next. You can't very well keep hunting and raise a kid."
"My dad did it," Dean argued as Sammy climbed out of bed and padded into the bathroom.
"Can you honestly tell me that's the childhood you would have chosen for yourself?" Bobby asked pointedly.
Dean sighed. "No one's childhood is perfect, and I would have picked my dad hands down over anyone else."
"Yeah, I know," Bobby admitted honestly. "So, should I prepare the guest room?"
Dean bit his bottom lip as he thought things over. Sammy flushed the toilet and he could hear the water running as the kid washed his hands. Dean had never felt more lost in his life. "Sure, Bobby. We'll head out after breakfast. I'll call you and let you know what time to expect us."
After ending the phone call, Dean spoke as his little brother exited the bathroom. "Time to get ready, kiddo. We're gonna go see Bobby." He watched as his little brother's eyes lit up at the sound of the older hunter's name.
"He had cookies," Sam remembered quietly.
Dean felt a smile quirk the corners of his mouth. "When I call him back in a little bit we'll ask him if he has any more cookies. How's that?"
Sammy nodded so hard that his brown bangs flopped up and down on his forehead.
The older Winchester felt like he had made a tiny connection to his brother just then. He watched as Sammy scurried to find the toy Impala.
Dean rummaged through his duffle bag while Sammy played and found a clean pair of jeans and a shirt. "I'll be right back, Sammy. I'm going to take a shower. Don't go anywhere." He made sure the chain was on the door before he entered the bathroom.
Dean exited the bathroom after a quick shower to find that Sam had procured more cars from his box of toys and was quietly pushing them around on the bed while cartoons hummed on the television in the background. Dean tossed the towel back into the bathroom and then found a clean outfit for Sam in the little suitcase. Dean knew he was going to have to do laundry when he got to Bobby's.
"Come get dressed so we can go to breakfast," he called to his brother.
Sammy left the cars on the bed and scurried to Dean.
"What do you want for breakfast?" Dean asked as he wrestled the pajamas over Sammy's head and inwardly cursed the designer that didn't make the neck hole bigger.
The little boy didn't answer although his tummy rumbled hungrily.
"Do you like cereal?"
Still no response.
"How about pancakes?"
Sammy fought to get his arms through the holes in his shirt. Dean finally let go and let the kid do it himself. He felt like he was hindering him more than helping him.
As soon as Sam was dressed, Dean brushed his brother's hair and helped him wash his face. "All set for breakfast?" he finally asked.
Sammy nodded and allowed Dean to take his hand and lead him across the street to the busy diner. They settled in a booth by the windows and Sammy slouched in the seat across from his brother.
Dean perused the menu and easily chose what he wanted for breakfast. Now to figure out what to order for Sammy. "Okay, kiddo, what do you want to eat?" He pushed the menu forward on the table so that his little brother could see it. "They have pancakes, eggs, waffles, sausage, or we can even order you cereal."
Sammy worried his bottom lip with his teeth, but stayed silent.
Dean bit back a sigh. He had done that a lot over the last twenty four hours. "Do you like pancakes, Sammy?"
The child nodded.
"How about chocolate milk?"
The kid nodded again.
"All right, dude, that's what I'm ordering you. Speak up now if that's not what you want."
When Sammy didn't respond, Dean blew a sigh through his lips. He couldn't wait to get to Bobby's. Maybe Bobby would know how to handle his kid brother.
To Be Continued…