Title: Three times Sam Winchester wasn't possessed. (1/3)
Author: Starrylizard (Part 1)
Rating: Gen, Teen
Notes: These are three stories/chapters on a theme, written round-robin style by Starrylizard, Rinne and Freelance. They can be read separately or together and we'll be posting them over the next couple of days.
Summary (Part 1): Sammy had always been a fairly easy baby in the scheme of things.
Sammy had always been a fairly easy baby in the scheme of things, something for which John had been grateful. Sam had had none of the colic that had kept both he and Mary awake for nights on end when Dean was a baby, he was rarely sick and he was usually pretty quiet unless startled by something.
Another blessing had been that the deep rumble-vibration of the Impala engines apparently worked as well as any lullaby, sending Sammy straight off to sleep. Considering the number of driving miles his kids were stuck with and, living the life they did with John dragging them from place to place, that truly was a miracle.
Sammy's large green eyes seemed to passively take in the world as if cataloguing everything for future reference. Sometimes John thought that might bite him later, but mostly he was just happy his boy seemed bright. The odd distressed cry or whimper was always well deserved and John could usually figure out what it meant before things got too ugly.
Yes, Sammy had always been a good baby, and so it caught John off guard when his youngest son suddenly went from a quiet (though incredibly messy) contemplation of his dinner to...
"Nonononononono!" Sammy cried, flinging food off his tray table and onto the floor. The little guy smacked his small fists down on the highchair, smooshed peas flying to the floor as he swiveled and twisted about unhappily, legs smacking against the seat. "Daddy, no!"
John froze, turning to see what could possibly be making Sam so unhappy, before quickly moving over to his side.
"Hey, kiddo. Calm down. What's wrong?" He kept his voice to the low rumble that both his kids seemed to find most soothing, but Sammy didn't seem to notice him at all. He just smacked his bowl with his spoon, thus flinging mushed carrot into his father's face and down his clean shirt.
John reached down to pick Sammy up, but he wouldn't stop twisting, little legs thrashing about, and John soon changed his mind, too afraid he'd bruise his son on the way out of the highchair.
"Dean, what happened?"
Dean was standing stock-still in the small apartment kitchen, head tilted as if completely awed by his brother's display. He shrugged and then suddenly sucked in a breath, before turning and bolting into the other room.
John gave a sigh, swiping a hand across his face and through his hair. He looked from his youngest son to the doorway, wondering whether he should go after Dean or keep an eye on Sam. He was saved the decision, though, when Dean returned carefully carrying a flask of holy water.
"Christo!" he cried, with careful six-year-old enunciation, before flinging droplets of holy water over his brother.
And Sammy stopped screaming. He blinked in shock at his older brother before burbling happily and reaching up to feel the water that was being splashed over his little body - the cool water providing a perfect distraction from his temper tantrum.
"Dad, it worked!" Dean looked at his father, bug-eyed with amazement, before doing a little victory dance and John allowed himself to slide down the kitchen cupboard until he was sitting on the floor.
"Good thinking, son," he managed to choke out.
And then he laughed. He laughed longer and harder than he had in years. He laughed until he was crying and his sides hurt.
He laughed until Dean's victory dance had finished and he had sat down next to him, giggling uncontrollably at his father's inability to stop laughing and Sammy just burbled and flung smooshed peas at them both.