Sammy is around 6...
Sammy prayed. Hard.
God hadn't taken too much notice so far, but this time it was important. Because Dean was going to kill him. Seriously.
"God, if you fix this for me, I promise…."
Sammy frowned – what could he promise? He didn't really have much that God would be interested in. Eyeing the torn comic on his lap, he panicked.
"Anything you want God – just please fix it!"
Dean bounced into the room, and Sam's heart stopped.
Dean grabbed the comic and batted Sam with it before holding up a hunting knife.
"Look what Dad gave me!"
("Thank you God!")
