I Had A Couple Kids

SAM

The extra donut had been mostly Dean's fault. He had been hungry in his defense, but Sam still felt the sugary lump settle in his stomach with a disconcerting thump. Rubbing the back of his head, Sam sighed and bumped his skull against the Impala's passenger window, listening to Dean blasting his old favorites. They were headed to another case, this one in Kentucky, to investigate missing kids and mysterious tracks leading to nowhere. Sounds promising, Dean had said, before grabbing the duffels and hauling ass. Sam had secretly agreed, but he couldn't help the small twinge of annoyance that came with Dean's ignorance of his outspoken opinion. Sighing louder and earning a suspicious glance from his brother, Sam closed his eyes and tried to sleep. There was a long way to go.

DEAN

Sam was irritated, which meant Dean had to guess why, which led to him failing to guess why, which then led to Dean also being irritated, which in turn meant they ended up fighting. It was a bitter, endless cycle. Shaking away the thought, Dean shut off the rumbling Impala and prodded his brother, saying, "Come on, Sam. Wakey wakey, monsters to gank."

Sam batted his hand away and yawned hugely, pulling himself out of the car with the grace of a well-trained light sleeper and thumping the roof affectionately.

"Let's go."

They headed to their first house, which held the mother of the first victim, a kid named Jimmy Leadon.

••••••••••

Dean supposed Mrs. Leadon was nice enough. She had given Sam and himself a coffee apiece and had led to them to the couch, tutting over how exhausted they looked.

Dean was exhausted. The fact that it took a graying old woman to make him realize this plucked at his already-thin nerves, so he was curt. He blinked.

Mrs. Leadon was sitting across from them in a pristine Coja, which seemed slightly out of place with the rest of the paisley living room. She dabbed at her eyes with a spontaneously-conjured tissue Sam had offered. It was his job to carry those.

"Thank you, dearie," she sniffled, peering at Sam with watery eyes. "You said you wanted to take a peek around?"

Sam cleared his throat, surprised, then nodded and stood up, slapping Dean's knee in a sorry, bro.

"Yes, I'll just...go take a look around. My partner Mr. Novak here can ask the questions."

Mrs. Leadon sniffed in response and Sam headed off, slipping out his EMF.

Clearing his throat, Dean turned to the older woman and poised his hand above a writing pad. He didn't really need to take notes, seeing as his hunter's mind could remember practically everything, but he'd found victims and witnesses appreciated the subconscious break from questions.

"So, Mrs. Leadon, when was the last time you saw Jimmy? What was he doing?"

"He was...um," she murmured, recalling the memory with some difficulty-Dean scribbled a note about hesitation- "he was riding in his friend Matt-Matt Lark's car home. The car s-swerved and crashed. Luckily Matt and his father were fine, but by the time they'd woken J-Jimmy was gone! Oh my god I miss him so much!"

Mrs. Leadon dissolved into tears, sobbing into the supplied tissues while Dean patted her back awkwardly. He'd never be able to do this right.

"I'm sorry, sweet, to cause you trouble like this. Oh my goodness, I must pull myself together. It's just...no one understands what it's like to lose a child…certainly not a sprightly young thing as yourself," she cried, dabbing at her smearing mascara uselessly. Dean felt a stab of pain in his chest, and pulled away, away, away, to the other couch. He unconsciously pressed his fingertips to his sternum, as though he could protect his heart.

"I had a couple of kids."

He spoke quietly as though loud volume would scare the woman away. Maybe it would scare him back into his senses so he didn't pour his shit on this sweet old lady.

Her head snapped up.

"Oh darling, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds Dean's controlled breaths and Mrs. Leadon's snuffles.

Sam's certainly taking his time, Dean thought absently.

"Mind if I ask what happened?" She asked.

Dean was about to shut her down, push her out, lock away the pain, when he realized he had nothing to lose anyway. He'd never see her again.

"One...my girl. She was murdered."

He didn't say how, or why. Mrs. Leadon pressed a hand to her mouth and stifled a gasp. She placed a wrinkled hand on Dean's arm. He leaned into it a bit.

The leather couch creaked as Mrs. Leadon shifted closer, patting his arm softly. The small noise startled Dean out of his daze, and he sharply remembered why he was there. To investigate a missing kid. Get in, gank the son of a bitch, and get out. He was supposed to reassure, not the other way round. How pathetic. Dean sat up suddenly, her hand falling from his arm, and called Sam down. His brother was down the flight in moment, and Dean suspected he had been listening in. Just as they were making to leave, the older woman called him back.

"Honey, I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry, but it's good to get it off your chest. Real quick, dearie. What happened to the other kidling?"

Dean's breath hitched, almost imperceptibly. Not to Sam, who stiffened, out of earshot but close enough to observe Dean's reactions.

"He...forgot about me."

Patting his arm, she sent them on their way with a full basket of sugar cookies. Dean tossed them out the window the first chance he got.

••••••••••

Sam said nothing as they walked back to the Impala, and Dean offered nothing. But Sam suggested he drive, pulled over when the gas was still half full, and made unnecessary excuses to head back to the Bunker. All to give Dean a break, some air, which he desperately needed.

Especially since the gun in his drawer looked much too friendly suddenly. Dean stared blankly at the metal object. Not today, he thought, and closed the drawer, heading to make Sam breakfast.