Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were.

A/N: I have no idea where this insane plot bunny hopped in from, but it was fun to write. Hope you like it. It is complete, but it's being posted in two parts since I'm still editing the second half. That should be up within a week. This part is the shorter part of the two.

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Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

BY: MistWraith

Dean grimaced as he picked the offending article up. There was no question: Sammy was the stinkiest kid in the whole world. Maybe the whole universe, which Dean was pretty sure was a lot bigger than even the world. He just knew that he hadn't been like that when he was little. Mommy—he swallowed for a moment, then manfully pushed on--had called him her little angel and while Dean no longer thought he believed in angels, he was pretty damn—he glanced around but Daddy was still reading an old book he'd bought and besides, Dean had only thought the bad word; then again, Dean was pretty certain Daddy could read minds—darn sure that angels didn't stink.

He held his nose as he carried the dirty diaper over to the trashcan and tossed it in. Daddy used to do this once, when Dean was too little, but Dean was seven years and three months old (which made him a big boy now, Daddy said), and it was his job to take care of Sammy and he wouldn't want Daddy thinking he couldn't handle his job 'cause then Daddy would be disappointed in him.

Didn't make him any happier about Sammy's stupid, stinky diapers, though.

A couple of months ago he heard Mrs. Blatnik talking to Daddy. Mrs. Blatnik sometimes babysat for them, when Daddy had to go hunt something that would take him one or two days. She was really, really old, maybe even thirty, and she had soft, wrinkly skin and gray hair, and she always smelled like Sammy's powder when she would kiss him, which she always did when she came and when it was bedtime and sometimes just for no reason. Dean hated it when she did that but Daddy says that you should always be polite to older people and to ladies 'specially. Anyway, Mrs. Blatnik said something to Daddy about how it was time Sammy was "potty trained." Dean had asked Daddy about that and Daddy said it meant teaching Sammy to use the toilet and not diapers.

Dean thought this was a great idea but Daddy said he didn't have the time 'cause he had to hunt monsters and that was okay, 'cause Daddy was a superhero and superheroes didn't do this kind of stuff. So Dean figured it was up to him.

Problem was Sammy was stubborn—Dean was pretty sure he had never been like that—and just being a brat. Dean had asked his teacher how you potty train a little kid (which Dean wasn't anymore, being seven years and three months old, and that made him a big boy, even if he still needed to stand on a chair to reach Sammy's cereal box) 'cause he wanted to help his Daddy. He didn't tell her that he would really be doing it himself, 'cause he's learned that if he says stuff like that, his teachers get this funny look on their faces and then the people who serve children—Dean wasn't 'xactly sure what they served kids but if anyone asked him, it should be pie—would come and Daddy would get all upset and angry.

His teacher said you had to explain "to the child"—Dean had corrected her, Sammy, not "the child"—what he had to do and how to use the toilet and flush it (Sammy could just reach the lever) and tell him it was what big boys did, and that Sammy would be barrassed using diapers at his age (Sammy was almost three) when no one else did.

Dean had come home that day determined to get started. Unfortunately, Sammy's favorite word for the last year had been "no" and he wielded it like a weapon every time Dean tried to get him to use the potty. While Daddy always got annoyed with Sammy's "no"-ness, Dean had learned how to usually get around it. Like last Christmas. They had been staying at Pastor Jim's, a friend of Daddy's. Dean liked Pastor Jim. He had lots of patience and always listened to Dean, and sometimes Daddy didn't (Dean felt disloyal just thinking that but it was true). For Christmas, Pastor Jim had bought both him and Sammy these really warm winter jackets, with hoods and everything ,but Sammy for some reason had decided he wasn't going to wear his jacket. Ever.

The day after Christmas, Sammy had wanted to go out and play with the neighborhood kids Pastor Jim had invitee over with their parents to build snow people in front of the church, but he still was refusing to put on the jacket. Dean could see thunder clouds building over Daddy's head and so could Sammy, whose lower lip began to tremble, warning of wails about to come. Dean had patted Sammy on the shoulder and told him it was okay if he didn't wear the jacket. From the corner of his eye, he could see Daddy frown and start forward but stop when Pastor Jim placed a hand on this arm.

Dean told Sammy he couldn't go outside unless he was warmly dressed, though he didn't have to use the jacket, and Sammy was feeling so good about getting his way with the jacket, he agreed. Dean had raced off and come back with almost every piece of clothing Sammy owned and he began to layer it on. By the time he was finished, Sammy couldn't bend his arms or legs, or turn his head, which Dean had covered with an old hat of Pastor Jim's that had these stupid-looking flaps on the sides. It came down to Sammy's nose.

With Dean guiding him, Sammy waddled stiff-legged to the porch and down the stairs. Dean told him to "have fun" and went back into the house, though he stayed at the window. A minute later, Daddy and Pastor Jim--both of them smiling now, even Daddy—joined him and they watched Sammy standing right where Dean had left him, unable to lift even one leg out of the snow. Two minutes later, Sammy had gone over like a toppling tree and he lay there, legs and arms outstretched, struggling to get up but practically unable to move. All the other kids began laughing.

By the time Daddy, trying not to laugh too hard, had gone out and lifted Sammy up and carried him back, Sammy's face was a combination of humiliation and fury. After Dean had stripped him down again, he had grabbed the jacket and stormed off to their bedroom, dragging the new jacket behind him, just stopping long enough to pronounce, as if it had been his idea all along, that this was his jacket and it was going to be the only thing he was going to wear outside from now on.

After Sammy had closed the bedroom door, Daddy and Pastor Jim had started laughing, and then Daddy had given him an odd look and muttered, "Scary," though Dean wasn't sure why. Pastor Jim had just patted his head and said, "Clever boy."

So Dean had been pretty sure he could get around Sammy's stubbornness, but his little brother had proven harder to crack this time around. He hadn't shown any interest in giving up his diapers—but then, he didn't have to carry them around or clean himself off, did he?—or in being like big boys, or even in being like "Daddy and me." Finally, Dean has just tried to wrestle Sammy over to the potty, but Sammy had let out shrieks loud enough to scare away a ghost and Daddy had come racing in from the living room, where he had been studying some old book Uncle Bobby had given him, and he had roared at Dean, which wasn't fair at all, since it was Sammy's fault. Later, Sammy had given him a triumphant smile and called him a "poopyhead," Sammy's new favorite word after "no." Dean had seriously considering finding some gypsies, like the ones in a story Uncle Bobby had read them, and seeing if they wanted a little kid wearing really stinky diapers, especially when Sammy began using Daddy as a weapon, winding up to start screaming whenever Dean even suggested using the toilet.

Even telling Sammy that other kids would laugh at him if he kept using diapers because it was only something babies did had no effect. Sammy just jutted out his lower lip—Dean was amazed at how like Daddy he had looked right then—and said that Tommy Bassett's mommy had said not to worry about it and that whenever Sammy was ready was just fine, and that Sammy was cute. Dean thought that Mrs. Bassett was very nice and made incredible cookies, but she had to be an idiot and he considered dropping a pile of Sammy's diapers in front of her house to see if she still thought it was cute!

Then he worried that growing up made you stupid, until he remembered that Daddy and Pastor Jim and Uncle Bobby (who Dean was pretty sure was even older than that 'Thuslah guy Pastor Jim mentioned once) weren't dumb at all.

He stared at the diaper he'd just thrown into the trashcan then trudged back to his now-naked and grinning brother. He'd discovered that trying to get Sammy to clean himself up got the same reaction as the idea of using the potty did, and that was something else Dean was getting really tired of. After cleaning Sammy off and helping him get dressed—which was something Sammy insisted he could do himself even though he had no idea what colors should go together—and then setting him down in the living room of the small house Daddy was renting, he went and sat in the kitchen, worrying the potty training problem.

It took a sandwich, three candy bars and a bowl of ice cream—and since Sammy's ears were sharper than a dog's, Dean ended up having to get a bowl for Sammy, too—but finally, Dean had an idea. He just needed the right time to put it into operation.

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A/N: Part 2 will be up in a few days. Hope you like it so far!