In a gas station just off of highway 33, the bells above the doorway gave a soft chime. Outside, the sun was setting, and the 7/11 was dimly lit, the fluorescent bulb in the back flickering in an irritating, arrhythmic syncopation. The clerk, a prematurely balding man whose nametag read "I'm Steve. Ask me about our 2 for 1 coffee deals," was helping a plump blonde mother sheepishly purchase a pack of Pall Malls while bouncing a small baby on her hip. Neither of them noticed that the source of the musical alert was two small boys, the eldest barely nine years old.
"I quit while I was pregnant," the woman was justifying as the boys slipped unseen to the back of the store, "but now Mommy needs her smokes to get through her bitter divorce, doesn't she," she cooed to the child. "Doesn't she?"
"Okay Sammy," Dean whispered, kneeling down so he was eye level with his little brother. "You remember the plan?" He kept glancing over his shoulder where the two adults were still talking at the counter. Dean had led them to the far corner of the store, in the back by the cold drinks where they were hidden from view by the aisles of snacks.
Sam rubbed his eyes grumpily, but nodded, pawing back too long hair out of his chubby face. "I 'member Dean."
"I'm gonna go to the bathroom, and once you can't see me, then you go ahead a get a glass bottle of milk-"
"I said I 'member Dean," Sam huffed, pushing at his brother's arm.
"Yeah, yeah. I know you did." He ruffled Sam's hair so it fell back into his face, earning him a pouty glare. "When I get the bathroom," he said again, and just caught Sam's indignant foot stomp that clearly meant I KNOW DEAN before he went down the hallway following the restroom signs until he was out of sight. He didn't actually go in the men's restroom, but instead waited for Sammy to give the signal. Despite trusting his little brother to play his part (it wouldn't be the first time), Dean couldn't help but feel anxious.
Sam stood alone as he watched Dean walk away, his thumb creeping into his mouth while he waited, forgetting that he wasn't supposed to anymore; that he was a big boy now. As soon as Dean vanished, Sam pulled on the refrigerator door handle with all his weight and swung it open just as the woman up front finished her purchase and left, the bells chiming her departure. Keeping the glass door open with his body, Sam stood on tip toes and pulled down a liter of milk, the glass ice cold in his hands. Even though it wasn't part of the plan, Sam pried the cap off and drank a few swallows of milk greedily, and then carefully returned the cap to its place. Then he hefted the glass jug over his head two handed and threw it down with all his might.
The resulting shatter caused Steve, who had just settled down on his makeshift seat of stacked 24-packs of soda, to jump up and swing his head around wildly in search of the noise. The crash was followed immediately by the high-pitched wail of a small child.
Darting around the desk, Steve ran to the back of the store, to find a little boy sitting on the ground surrounded by glass and a growing puddle of milk, crying his eyes out.
"Aw shit. Hey, hey kid, you okay." Steve squatted down to get a better look at the boy; he couldn't have been more than four or five, still chubby-fingered and chubby-cheeked, his little face tomato red as tears leaked from his scrunched eyes. "Come on, kiddo, it's okay."
Sam stalled in his sobbing long enough to pull his fists away from his face and look up at Steve. He caught his breath in a few hiccupping gaps and then resumed his wailing, this time louder than before.
Steve looked panicked, and stood up, trying to locate the kids' parents. He didn't see anyone in the store; had the smoker mom left an errant child here on accident? He didn't think so. He must have come from the parking lot, he decided, where a parent was getting gas. He knelt down again.
"Come on, it's okay. You're alright. No use crying over spilled milk, right?" Sam just kept crying, kicking his feet now for added effect, milk splashing around his Spiderman sneakers. "Where's your parents, huh?" No intelligible response. "Your mom here? Your daddy?" Sam shook his head, and then threw it back and wailed on. When Steve covered his face in exasperation, Sam stopped and opened his eyes long enough to see where Dean was; he was getting tired. But then it was back to wailing, scooting away from Steve frantically when he tried to lay a consoling hand on his arm.
"Alright, alright, enough! Cool it!" Steve felt like he was talking to a brick wall for all the reaction he was getting out of this random kid, a very loud headache-inducing brick wall. "If you stop crying and come to the front with me, I'll give you some candy!" The kid stopped and sniffled, looking up at him with big, watery, heart-wrenching eyes.
"C-candy?" he stuttered out, still in that half-way state that toddlers get where they could either resume crying at any second, or stop with a bright smile and run off and play.
"Yeah, how bout a Hershey's?"
"R-really?" Sam rubbed his eyes and stood up, reaching out a hand to be led automatically.
"Yeah, really. Watch the glass." Steve took the boy's hand and tugged him along away from the mess. "Want to sit on the counter?"
Sam looked at it consideringly, and then nodded, lifting his arms to be picked up. Steve complied and perched him on the desk, handing him a Hershey's bar as promised. Sam immediately dug in, his stomach giving a loud grumble as he sucked on the corner of the candy bar.
"I'm Steve. What's your name?"
"Sam." He slurped the chocolate getting it on his face.
"Okay Sam. Is one of those cars yours?"
"Sam! What are you doing?" Dean rushed forward from the restrooms to the counter, glaring at Steve as he reached up to help same down from the counter. "What happened?"
"Are you his brother?" Steve asked, looking quizzically at the new boy who was glaring at him fiercely. "He got into the cooler back there are broke a bottle."
Dean's expression softened and he gave the clerk a sincere look. "Oh no, Sammy! I'm so sorry sir." He pulled Sam to him, Sam never taking the chocolate bar too far from his mouth. "Our dad is waiting outside. I'm supposed to watch him, but I had to go to the bathroom." His breath hitched a little as he spoke, and he blinked his eyes a little too fast. "I'm so sorry. I, uh, I don't have any money, but my dad might… He's going to be so mad at me." Dean gazed up at him pleadingly.
Steve sighed, and looked between the older boy and his little brother, whose tear-stained face was lightening in face of sweets. "Look, don't worry about it. Just make sure you dad comes in with you next time."
"Yes sir!" Dean grabs Sam's hand tightly and pulls him to the door. "We will. Thank you!"
Steve watched, but he couldn't quite tell what car the boys got into. Oh well. Shaking his head, he went to get a mop.
"You did such a good job Sammy! You sure can cry!" Dean held his hand out for a high-five and Sam obliged, slapping it and beaming at the praise.
"Was I a good coman?"
"You are the best con man."
They were hidden several buildings away, still about fifteen minutes from their hotel room. Sam suddenly plopped down on the curb and looked imploringly at Dean. "No Sam, come on. We have to get back to the room." Around them, but sky was growing darker by the second.
"But I'm hungry now Dean," Sam whined.
"Just eat your chocolate while we go." He tried to tug a suddenly very limp Sam to his feet.
"No, I wanna sandwich." Boneless, Sam spilled over as Dean tried to haul him up, protecting the Hershey's bar against his chest.
Dean sighed loudly, feeling a definite twinge of annoyance, but sat down next to his brother. "Fine, we will split a sandwich." He pulled open his coat, almost three sizes too big for him, and dug around in the pockets for their spoils. He tugged out a PB&J, just one of four sandwiches he managed to smuggle out in addition to various other foodstuffs, and tore open the wrapper. He gave the bigger half to Sam.
He tried to eat slowly, but he couldn't help stuffing his face, and then finishing off the crust Sam didn't want to eat. It had been three days since John said he would be home, and four days since they ran out of money.
They stood to leave, Sam swinging their clasped hands together as they walked, energetic from their adventure and some food in his belly. "Do you think Dad will be back? I'm going to save half this candy for him and then…" Dean stared ahead letting Sam's chatter wash over him, knowing (though he hoped differently) John wouldn't be there that night. But that was alright because Dean would always take care of Sammy. "Dean! Did you hear me? I said you can have a big piece too!" They would always take care of each other.
THE END
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