A/N: The story behind this is true. I was Sam here. So, although I don't own the characters, this story is something that Mom claims happened.
Drive
October 1986
Dean sat on the Impala, tossing the football against the garage. He was bored. He wanted to go to the park, but Dad was at the town's "haunted" house, just to see if it was, in fact, haunted.
Plus, he had to watch Sammy. Because, at three years, Sammy was too little to be left alone.
Dean had thought about seeing if Dad would drop the both of them off at the park, so he could play football with his friends in school. But Dad walked to this house, leaving the car and leaving Sammy under Dean's expert care.
But, Dean was bored. Sammy was too little to toss a football around with.
He thought about dragging Sammy over to the old lady across the street, and getting her to take them to the park. But, knowing her, she probably wouldn't go anywhere with her cat, and Dean hated that cat.
"Dee, we go to paw?" Sammy lisped out.
"Maybe when Dad gets back, squirt."
"I wan go to paw!" He turned his big puppy dog eyes on Dean, knowing full well, even at the age of three that they were lethal weapons.
Dean sighed and got up to retrieve the football. As he turned back to Sammy, sitting on the Impala, he got an idea.
"OK, kiddo. Get into the car."
Sammy brightened for a second, then frowned. "How we go to paw?"
"We'll figure it out. I've been watching Dad drive."
"OK!" Sammy hopped off the hood and wobbled over to the back door.
Dean stopped him. "I'm gonna need your help here, squirt."
Sammy's eyes got so big Dean was afraid they were going to fall out of his head. "Need hep?"
Dean opened the driver's door and saw the keys in the ignition.
Sammy climbed on the seat and looked expectantly at Dean. "We go now?"
"Get on the floor by the pedals." Dean climbed into the seat behind the steering wheel. He shifted himself so he was kneeling on the seat to look out over the steering wheel and tossed the football into the seat beside him.
Sammy eagerly dropped down beside the pedals and looked up at Dean. "OK!"
"Alright, Sammy. The long pedal makes the car go faster. The short, square pedal makes the car stop. Got it?"
"Got it!"
"So, when I say 'hit it!' push the long pedal as hard as you can. When I say 'leggo,' take your hand completely off the pedal. When I say 'stop!', press the square pedal. Can you repeat that back to me?"
"Hi' it, long pe'al. Leggo, no han'. Stop, squ'wah."
"I hope you'll be learning how to say your 'r's' soon, shrimp," Dean sighed. He reached forward and turned the key. The engine immediately roared to life. He shifted the car into reverse. What the hell am I doing? Dad is gonna kill me! He briefly thought, before looking down into Sammy's glowing eyes.
"OK. Hit it!"
Sammy eagerly slammed his hand as hard as he could on the long pedal, and the Impala squealed its way out of the driveway.
Dean turned the steering wheel as fast as he could once they got out on the street so the car was facing in the right direction. "OK, stop!"
Dean was thrown forward when Sammy slammed down on the square pedal. He made a mental note that the next time he backed this car out of the driveway to look behind him. Just to see where he was going.
He shifted the car into drive. "OK, hit it!"
Sammy giggled and hit the long pedal as hard as he could.
Dean kept turning the steering wheel, trying to keep it straight. The car drove through five intersections. Luckily, no cars were coming.
He stared out of the window to see the "haunted" house approaching on the left. He could see Dad in the yard. Dad obviously heard the roar of the Impala's engine, because he turned. Dean looked at him watching the car roar by, mouth hanging open.
A stop sign was coming up. "Sammy, leggo!"
Dean felt the car immediately slow down as he got closer to the stop sign. "OK, stop!"
Again, Dean was thrown forward as the car squealed to a stop.
Dean looked both ways. I probably should let that car down the road go past before going, he thought. He turned the steering wheel all the way to the right, anticipating going.
The car finally past. Dean took another look around. "OK, hit it!"
The Impala squealed to a start as Sammy pressed the pedal to the floor again. Dean could barely get the car to turn in a straight line. He saw another car approaching. He straightened the steering wheel out to get to the right side of the road. The car past, honking its horn.
"Now, we have straight driving all the way to the park, Sammy! Only three more stop signs to go!"
"Yay!" Sammy's little voice came from the floor.
Working together, Dean and Sammy were able to stop and roll through the three remaining intersections with no trouble.
Dean turned into the park. "OK, Sammy, leggo."
The car immediately slowed down as Dean looked around for a place to park. He found one and coasted to it. He couldn't park quite as evenly as he wanted, but it was good enough.
He shifted the car into park and turned off the car. He looked down into Sammy's glowing eyes. "We did it, squirt."
"Yay!" Sammy clapped his hands and giggled.
Dean opened the door, and Sammy scrambled out. Dean unfolded himself, grabbed the football and followed Sammy into the park.
After alternating between tossing the football around with Jason and pushing Sammy on the swings for an hour, Dean looked up to see Dad leaning against the car. Dean couldn't read his expression. It seemed to be half furious and half proud.
"Uh-oh. I think we're gonna catch it, Sammy." Dean whispered as he picked Sammy up out of the swing.
"Fun, Dee! Do 'gan!"
Dean held Sammy's hand as they shuffled to Dad. "Sure. We'll do it probably in twenty years when we get un-grounded."
Fin.
A/N #2: Again, this is based on a real experience. My cousin, Todd, is 16 months older than I am. Both of us grew up on a farm, living about ¾ of a mile away from our grandparents who had a swing set. When Todd was five years old and I was three years old, we were bored, and we wanted to go down to our grandparents to play on the swing set. His mother and my mother didn't want to take us down yet. They were too busy talking. We were too little to go down the pasture by ourselves. And no one said we couldn't use the car. So, he stood on the seat and drove, while I worked the pedals on the floor. This is a true story (according to my mother.) I don't care if you don't believe me. It's true.