Disclaimer: Not mine, just pretending. I will put them back when I am done. I promise.

(don't be silly….I do not have my fingers crossed behind my back…..honestly!)

This is a little Wee!Chester, a little AU, a little fluffy…..whatever you want to call it. Hope you like it.

I am still working on my other story but needed to let my mind wonder in a different direction for a while. Let me know what you think, I would love to hear from you!!

My Precious One

1959

Ten-year-old Johnny Winchester woke with a pounding headache. His throat was sore and scratchy. His eyes felt dry and hot. He tried to sit up and the room began to spin. As he dropped his head back on his pillow there was a gentle knock and his door opened a couple inches. He heard his mother's voice, "Good morning Johnny, time to get up." Johnny groaned and pulled the blankets back over his head.

Madeline Winchester heard her son groan. Johnny was normally up and getting dressed when she opened his bedroom door, something must be up. She entered her son's bedroom and opened the shade, letting the early morning sunshine filter in through the cowboy covered curtains. "Johnny, time to get up for school." No response. 'Not good a good sign,' Madeline thought to herself. She sat on the edge of the bed and placed her hand on the blanket covered lump. She heard a cough and a sniffle, followed by another groan, the sound coming somewhere from the pillow region.

"Mom….I don't feel so great." Johnny managed to growl out. He pulled the blankets away from his face and looked at his mother. Madeline took in the appearance of her young son with his flushed face and glassy eyes. She gently placed the back of her hand on his hot cheek and brushed his forehead with a kiss. Yep, he definitely had a fever.

"Looks like you are staying home from school today, sweetie." Madeline brushed his shaggy bangs away from his forehead. 'He needs another haircut' she thought unconsciously as she feathered her fingers through his dark hair. "Tell me what's wrong."

"My head hurts…..my throat…is…." Johnny looked at his mother with panic stricken eyes. Madeline watched as her son's face went from pasty white to slightly green. Her mother's instinct knew what was coming. She quickly pulled Johnny to a sitting position with one hand while grabbing his garbage from the floor with the other. She rubbed comforting circles on her son's back as he lost the contents of his stomach and until the dry heaving passed. When he was finished she placed the garbage back on the floor and Johnny looked at his mother with tears in his eyes. "Sorry, mom" he growled out, his throat sore and now raw from the bile.

"Sweetie, you don't need to be sorry. You can't help being sick." She said while wiping his tears away. "Here's what we are going to do. First, I'm going to get this cleaned up. Then we are going to get you changed into some fresh pj's and see if we can't get some medicine in you. Then we are going to tuck you back into bed so you can rest and get better. Sound like a good idea?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me." Mother and son both turned to see Cliff Winchester standing in the doorway of Johnny's room. "Hey sport, you sick?"

Johnny managed to nod most pitifully and flopped back on the bed. June walked to her husband was going to give him a kiss goodbye as he went off to work. "Back off there woman!" he said with a laugh, "you were just over there with a garbage can full of vomit. I think I'll take a rain check on any kissing right now."

"Chicken." Madeline said and wriggled her fingers goodbye. Cliff chuckled and blew her a kiss, he tossed a "Hope you feel better sport!" over his shoulder as he left for work.

Madeline spent the rest of the day caring for her son. She cleaned him up after his morning bout of sickness. Gave him medicine and placed a cool cloth on his fevered brow. While he napped she went through her daily routine of keeping house. She had just taken two loaves of fresh baked bread out of the oven when she looked up to see her son standing by the kitchen table in his robe and slippers. He had a little color in his face but still did not look well.

"Feeling any better?" She asked.

"Maybe a little. I'm hungry."

Madeline chuckled. "Let's try some tea and toast, see if that stays down."

While Johnny coughed and sneezed Madeline brewed tea and made toast from fresh bread. He managed to eat and drink a little before nearly dozing in the chair. After another dose of cough medicine Madeline lead her son back to his room, took off his robe and slippers and tucked him back into bed. She kissed his slightly cooler forehead as he drifted off to sleep. "Rest now precious one, I'll be here if you need me." She whispered.

"Thanks mom, I love you." Johnny whispered, mostly asleep.

Madeline smiled and held her hand to her chest, as if trying to keep the whispered murmur of love from her son trapped in her heart. Her little Johnny was growing up and he was deciding that big boys didn't tell their mother's they loved them as easily as when they were younger. "I love you too, Johnny…..I love you too."

1989

Ten-year-old Dean Winchester woke with a pounding headache. His throat was sore and scratchy. His eyes felt dry and hot. He tried to sit up and the room began to spin. 'Crap', he thought as he lay back down on the threadbare mattress and concentrated on not throwing up.

"Dean…hey Dean…come on, Dean. It's time to get up for school." Dean's six-year-old brother was bouncing on the mattress, rolling his brother back and forth to get him up.

Dean groaned. "Please Sammy, please stop." His voice was gravelly.

Sammy stopped. "You don't look so good Dean." Something in his brother's voice told Sammy that Dean wasn't messing around because he didn't want to go to school. Dean was sick.

"I'll be fine Sammy, just give me a couple minutes, okay? Go brush your teeth and comb your hair."

"Okay Dean." Sammy patted his brother on the shoulder and quietly got off the bed.

Dean opened his eyes, the light coming through the dingy motel room window felt like two white hot pokers grinding into his head. When he tried to swallow his throat felt like it had been shredded by broken glass. 'Crap', he thought again, 'not a good sign'. He rolled off the mattress with his eyes closed, thinking if he was firmly on his feet when he opened them maybe the room wouldn't spin quite so bad. He was right, it helped the spinning, instead it was like he was on a teeter-totter slamming back and forth. Before he had time to think about what was happening his hand flew to his mouth and he ran to the bathroom, barely making it past his brother, and violently emptied his stomach into the toilet. "Ewwww!" Sammy said with toothpaste dripping down his chin. "Dean, that's gross!"

Dean didn't hear his brother, he was concentrating on not having his head explode with every dry heave. When his body was finished trying to throw up Dean flushed away the sick and sat in front of the toilet, trying to catch his breath and not cry in front of his baby brother. He tried to pretend he didn't see mouse droppings on the floor behind the toilet. He tried to pretend that he didn't miss his dad. It took a minute for him to realize his little brother was standing next to him, gently rubbing circles on his back and saying "it's okay Dean, it'll be okay," over and over again.

Dean staggered to his feet and rinsed his mouth at the sink. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and nearly didn't recognize himself. His face was pasty white where it wasn't flushed with fever. His eyes were dull and glassy with dark circles. He thought if he looked hard enough he could see his head pulsing to the conga beat that was playing in his head. He noticed his little brother's reflection in the mirror, looking up at him with frightened eyes.

"Don't worry Sammy, I'll be okay." He washed his hands and face and stumbled back to the bed he was sharing with his brother in their most recent 'home'. "You get dressed now and I'll walk you to the bus stop."

"But Dean, Daddy isn't home. You shouldn't be all alone."

"I'll be fine Sammy, with you at school I'll be able to sleep all day. You can eat at school, I won't have to worry about making lunch for you." Seeing his brother's crestfallen face he added, "Then when you get home from school you can take care of me and tell me about your day, okay?"

"Okay Dean!" Sammy was easily cheered. Dean managed to get his shoes and jacket on, pausing once when he thought he was going to have to dash to the bathroom again. He helped Sammy pack his backpack, gave him a cold pop tart for breakfast, and together they walked to the bus stop at the end of the block. Dean watched as the school bus drove off with his little brother, feeling more alone than he could remember he headed back to the Blue Roof Inn. Before going back into the room he stopped at the vending machine and counted out his change. He needed to keep a quarter for Sammy, the kid had a loose tooth and the tooth fairy needed to have something to give him in case dad didn't make it back in time. He bought a can of clear soda and went back to the room. By the time he made it to the sofa he was damp with sweat and freezing cold. He eyed the distance to the bed, he really didn't want to stay on the couch, it smelled like cat pee. Thinking about the smell made his stomach flip and he headed off to the bathroom for another round of vomiting.

Dean really didn't think one person could try so hard to throw up so much nothing. After what seemed like hours he staggered out to the bed, curled up in the blanket and fell into a troubled sleep, dreaming of fire and monsters. He tossed and turned in his fever induced nightmare, calling out in fear when he thought he heard someone turning the lock and entering their room. "No! Leave me alone!" he shouted as he sat up in bed.

"Dean! Son…what's wrong." John dropped his bags in the doorway and ran to his son's side.

"Dad?" Dean looked at his father with bright fevered eyes. "Dad, are you really here?"

"Yeah sport, I'm really here. Where is your brother?" John brushed Dean's fine blonde hair from his sweat covered forehead.

"Put him on the bus for school. Made sure he was okay. Don't be mad." Dean began to sway on the bed, nearly passing out.

"Whoa there sport." John gently laid his son down on the bed. "I'm not mad, you did good."

Dean smiled faintly at his father's praise. He wanted to hold on to that feeling, it seemed like his father didn't praise him as easily as he did when he was younger. But the fog of sickness was creeping up and pulling him back to his dreams.

John smiled as he pulled his son onto his lap and held him as he fell back to sleep. He felt pride and guilt tugging at his heart. Pride for the amazing young boy he was blessed with and guilt for making him grow up so fast. He thought back to his own childhood and with melancholy in his voice whispered to his sleeping son, "Rest now precious one, I'll be here if you need me."

2029

Ten-year-old Madeline Winchester woke with a pounding headache. Her throat was sore and scratchy. Her eyes felt dry and hot. She tried to sit up and the room began to spin. As she dropped her head back on her pillow there was a gentle knock and her door opened a couple inches. She heard her mother's voice, "Good morning Maddie, time to get up." Maddie groaned and pulled the blankets back over her head.

Caroline Winchester heard her daughter groan. "Maddie, aren't you feeling well?" She asked as she opened the door fully and walked to the bed. "Who isn't feeling well?" A concerned voice came from behind her. Caroline looked over her shoulder at her husband and smiled.

From the pile of blankets came a deep cough and a muffled "I'm not feeling well."

"Let's see what's up kiddo." Caroline said as she gently pulled the blankets down from her daughter's face. Maddie's eyes were bright with fever and her face pale. She looked up at her parents and the room tilted and her stomach shifted. Dean knew that look, he grabbed the garbage from under his daughter's desk and was ready when she tossed the contents of her stomach. When she was finished he wiped away her tears and helped her gently snuggle back into her pillows.

Caroline sat on the edge of the bed and brushed the dark curls from her daughter's damp forehead. "You going to be okay today? I really hate to leave you when you're sick."

Dean came out of his daughter's bathroom after cleaning the garbage can and washing up. "What, you think I can't handle this?" He spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders. "Just when was the last time you cleaned up after the kids when they were sick?" He pulled his wife into a hug and kissed her neck, under her left ear, the exact spot that made her toes curl every time. "Very funny Dean. We made a deal, I give birth, you clean up vomit. Trust me buddy, you are getting off easy."

Maddie smiled up at her parents. "Hey, sick kid here." As if to prove her point she began coughing a deep, ugly cough. Dean's expression immediately changed from amusement to concern and he went to his daughter's side. "It's okay sweetie, just relax. Close your eyes and get some rest." He looked at his wife and said "The boys are finishing breakfast. You better get going if you want to drop them at school and be to work on time, you know Sammy gets cranky when his partner is late to the office."

Caroline gently kissed her daughter's forehead. "I know how to handle Sam, as soon as I tell him Maddie is sick he is going to be sending flowers, sending food, and sending a doctor. Your brother might act like a big tough attorney but he is putty in my hands when it comes to his nephews and niece."

When Caroline left Dean helped Maddie get cleaned up and into a fresh nightgown. After she had a dose of cough medicine he tucked her into bed and settled himself at her desk to do some work. Another coughing fit brought his attention back to his sick daughter. "You okay sweetie?"

"I guess," Maddie snuggled under her blankets, "Daddy?"

Dean smiled, his baby must be sick, she had quit calling him daddy a couple years ago. "Yeah baby?"

"I'm sorry you have to stay home with me today."

Dean went to sit on the edge of his daughter's bed. "That's nothing for you to be sorry about Maddie. I love you and you didn't get sick on purpose. Besides that, these are my favorite days, except for the being sick part." He tweaked her nose and smiled.

Maddie looked up at her father, "What do you mean?"

"Well," Dean began, "once when I was about your age I got the flu and was very sick. My dad stayed with me and took care of me. I even threw up on his boots. He wasn't too happy about that. But for the time I was sick he did everything for me, he made me feel better. Later, when I was older, he told me that was one of his favorite days."

"That's goofy Dad. You threw up on grandpa's shoes and he said that was one of his favorite days?" Maddie's eyes were blinking slower and slower as she drifted toward sleep.

Dean smiled down at his drowsy daughter. "I thought it was goofy for the longest time myself. But then….well, you will understand one day." Seeing his baby girl had drifted off to sleep Dean tucked the blankets warmly around her and gently brushed a kiss against her cooling brow. "Rest now, precious one. I'll be here if you need me."

The end

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