Dean sat on his bed, playing with a knife and pretending to do his homework. Really, he was just watching Sammy do his own schoolwork... Or whatever it was he was doing. Knowing Sam, he was probably already done with his homework. He was pretty smart.
John sat on the couch, watching an old movie and drinking his third beer of the night. Dean threw his knife onto his pillow, shut his workbook, and walked over to his father. Little seven year old Sammy didn't notice.
"Hey, dad?" Dean said, kneeling down on the floor next to John. John looked down at his son and set his beer down on the table next to the couch. Sammy looked up at Dean.
"Dean? Is everything ok?" Sammy asked, setting his pencil down and the fear showing in his eyes. Dean smiled and nodded his head.
"Yeah, Sammy. Everything's cool. I just have to ask Dad something. Keep drawing, you're getting really good at it," Dean said, noting his brother's skill.
He wasn't kidding, he saw the drawing as he walked by it. It was a damn good drawing of the Impala for a seven year old with crayons Dean used to chew on when he was four. Sam smiled and continued to draw, his concentration showing when he stuck his tongue out a little bit and squinted. John ruffled Dean's hair lovingly.
"You do a great job with that kid, Dean," He told his eldest son. Dean cringed when he smelled the overwhelming scent of alcohol on his father's breath, but managed a smile.
"Dad?" Dean asked, getting back to his original request.
"Yeah?" He responded with a sigh, taking another swig of his beer. Dean looked down at the floor, trying to get up the courage to ask his dad the question that had been nagging at him for about an hour now.
"Um... Can you... Can you not drink in front of Sammy? At least... Not tonight? " Dean said, still not looking at his father. John sat up on the couch, shocked that Dean would ever say such a thing, to the man who raised him. For a moment, John thought of smacking him across the face. But he wouldn't want to do that in front of Sammy either.
"Please. I just want to talk to him for a little bit about something. He told me last night that it scared him when you get drunk," Dean begged. John took a more thoughtful sip of his beer and sighed. He got up and lightly brushed Dean out of his way, went to the fridge, grabbed another beer, and made for the door.
"I'll be back once I finish this," John said, waiving the unopened bottle in the air. Sam looked up from his drawing and watched his father walk out the door for what seemed like the millionth time. Dean saw him get into the Impala and heard him crank up the Metallica tape he always put in when he was drinking. He said it reminded him of Mary, but Dean still didn't understand why he would play music that reminded him of their dead mother. But, for once, he stayed there and he didn't start driving, and Dean was thankful for that.
"Where's Daddy going?" Sammy asked, putting his crayons in the crease of his coloring notebook and closing it. He stood up and joined Dean at the window. Sam wasn't graced with a response, so he tugged on the tail of his older brother's black and white plaid shirt.
"Dean, where's Dad going?" He asked again, trying to sound firm and confident like the other members of his family.
"He's just going out to the car to work on some stuff. Don't worry, he's just in the parking lot. He's not going anywhere tonight." Dean turned around to face Sam, who smiled.
"I don't like it when Daddy leaves, Dean. I miss him too much. Why can't he always be here?" Sam said. Instead of answering, Dean picked his little brother up and threw him onto the bed, then jumped on after him, which in turn caused Sam to fly up in the air.
"Dean!" Sam squealed as the elder Winchester began to tickle him.
"I'm gonna get you!" Dean said, chasing his brother around the room.
Sam, who was running and screaming, yelled, "No you're not!" as he tried to outrun his much bigger and faster brother. Dean caught up to him very quickly and picked him up again, twirling him around. Sam giggled and smiled as Dean plopped him down back on the bed they were sharing during their stay at the Mountainside Motel just outside of Brickston, North Carolina.
"What's up, Dean?" Sammy asked, sensing that his brother wanted to talk to him.
"I dunno, Sammy, what's up with you?" Dean said in a silly voice, making Sam laugh again.
"I asked first so you have to tell me. You taught me that," Sam argued. Dean nodded, surprised that he was just beaten at his own game.
"I did. Ok, I'll tell you what's up. The sky," Dean responded.
"What about Heaven? Is Heaven up there too?" Sam asked, throwing his head back so he could look at the ceiling. Dean sighed.
"Yeah, it's up there. I promise," He responded after a second. Sam shifted on the bed.
"What about angels? Are angels up in Heaven?" Dean looked sadly at his brother.
"Ooh, what if we have guardian angels, Dean! That would be so cool! To know that there's like one sp- spacific angel that's always watching us?" Sam said, stumbling over specific. Dean didn't mind, he knew what he was trying to say. Plus, the kid was only seven, he had to cut him some slack.
"I don't know Sam... That's more than a little far fetched," Dean responded. "Mom used to tell me, when she tucked me into bed every night, that angels were watching over us,"
"Well if Mom said it than it has to be true!" Sam exclaimed.
"Maybe you're right, Sam. Maybe there's an angel watching over us," Dean reached over to the nightstand and opened the top drawer. Sam looked over at his brother and studied what he was doing.
"What're you looking for?" Sam asked. Dean smiled.
"The present I got you," He said cryptically. Sam's eyes widened as he scurried off the bed and ran over to where he was coloring earlier that day and frantically flipped through the notebook that contained all of his crayon masterpieces.
"I made you a present too, Dean!" Sammy declared as he found the right one and ripped it out very carefully, making sure all of the fringe stayed in the notebook. He climbed back up on the bed and held the picture behind his back until Dean was giving him his full attention.
"I drew this today. It's for you," Sammy explained, whipping out the drawing and he handed it to his brother. Dean took it and held it out in front of him. Sammy had not only completed his drawing of the Impala, but he had added four figures off to the side.
"That's Bobby," He said, pointing to someone who actually looked like Bobby, "that's Dad," Sam pointed to the tallest figure, "and... and that's you and me, Dean!" Sam exclaimed, pointing to the two boys. The taller one, who was obviously Dean, had his arm wrapped around the smaller one. Everyone was smiling.
"This is... great, Sam. I... I love it. I'm gonna keep it forever. I promise," Dean said, hugging his little brother. Sam smiled.
"What'd you get me?" He asked Dean excitedly. Dean's smile faded a little bit.
"Some candy. But for the record, your present was better," Dean told his brother as he reached for the newly opened package of Ice Breakers. He opened the container and picked out two. Sam smile grew even wider as Dean handed him his candy.
"What?" Dean laughed, not understanding why he was smiling.
"You gave me one from the 'not to share' side,"
~~~xxx~~~
24 years later
"Hey Sammy!" Dean shouted from the kitchen area of the motel they were staying in. Sam sighed, exasperated. He was currently sprawled out on the unoccupied bed. He lifted his head and turned to look at his brother.
"What, Dean?" He groaned.
"We're all out of beer! It's your turn for the supply run," Dean told him, coming out with a tall glass of milk in his hand.
"Fine," Sam said, grabbing his coat and wallet. "If I'm not back in twenty, start worrying," He called out the door as he left the room. Dean heard the Impala's engine roar to life and Sam pulled out of the parking lot.
"Dean," Cas said. Dean's eyes widened. He'd practically forgotten about him. Cas had been sitting in the same spot on the bed practically all day.
"Yeah? What's up, Cas?" Dean asked, turning to face him.
"Do you have a journal, like your father did?" Dean cocked his head in confusion.
"I mean, kind of... not really, why?" He asked quizzically.
"I found this. I'm fairly certain it belongs to you." He said, holding out an old piece of paper. It was wrinkled and yellow, and the color had faded a little bit, but a drawing is a drawing.
"Hey thanks Cas... Where was it?" Dean said, grinning at his friend. Cas looked up at Dean, who was taller than him sitting down as well, and pointed to the floor next to the bed.
"It seemed to have fallen out of your bag when you set it on the bed," Cas observed. There was a pause, where Dean just stared at the old drawing. Cas looked over to see why Dean was so intent on staring at it for such a long time.
"Who is that?" He asked, pointing at John. Bobby never really changed, Dean still saw the same exact person in that picture, even though it was drawn by a seven year old almost twenty five years ago. He assumed Cas could also recognize Bobby.
"That's uh... That's my dad. John," Dean answered. It had never occurred to him that Cas had never seen his dad past the age of twenty-something.
"Oh. Who... illustrated this?" Cas asked again.
"Sam. He uh... he drew it when he was seven," Dean informed him.
"Oh," Cas responded quietly.
"He always said it was... our family picture, since we never actually took one of those," Dean said. Dean suddenly leaned back on the bed and groped around the nightstand for the complimentary pen and pad of paper.
"I'm not as good as my brother," Dean said as he uncapped the pen and set the edge of the paper on the notepad, "but I guess I can try my hand at drawing." He glanced up at Cas, who was staring intently at him. A few seconds later, Dean handed the picture back to his friend.
"Now it's a family picture," He said, grinning.
There, standing next to seven year old Sammy Winchester, was Castiel the Angel. Cas smiled, a real human-like smile, and gave Dean the drawing back.
"You know, Dean. Just for the record... I was always watching over you."