Quite author's note: This story is translated from Recuerdos más dulces que caramelos by NagareboshioO. If you read Spanish, I encourage you to check out her work. If you don't, then check back in a few weeks because I intend to translate her other stories, too. Enjoy!
A Memory Sweeter than Caramels
It is October 30, 1989, and Bobby watches from the door as the Impala drives off through the highway en route to Rapid City, leaving the junk yard behind. The junk yard, as well as two little monsters who didn't even watch their father's car leave and went running across the patio, surely going directly to play with all the scrap.
When the car is finally only a point on the horizon, the hunter sighs profoundly and takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the days that await him. He begins to think himself too old for this.
"Dean! Sam! Come here right now! Damn brats!"
And Bobby grumbles and groans the way he always does, and waits a few seconds, giving them the benefit of the doubt before heading out himself to the scrap area where there are more stacked cars; he knows without a doubt that the boys will be there. They are there, of course. Why play among three or four cars when one can play among fifteen? Still, the hunter smiles when he finally locates them, because Dean is perched on the hood of an old Ford Shoebox and Sam is watching him with bright eyes from the ground, as if his older brother were his favorite superhero. Bobby didn't doubt it.
But he is here to watch them and take care of them—rather it is them who are here for that—and one would suppose that the duty would include not allowing Dean to break a leg coming down from the car, or for Sam to bust open his head trying to copy his brother's feat. So he adopts his grumpy mask and with a few shouts the boys are already running into the house to wash their hand for dinner as they were ordered.
And yes, Bobby needs to realize that he's getting older, but it is those laughs that he hears from the inside of the bathroom about the few things they have that, for a few moments, make him feel much younger, as if the demons that haunt his soul—almost literally—run away scared from that unfamiliar and cheerful sound. And suddenly he asks himself if those two little headaches cause the same effect on John, but he fears that even if they had the opportunity, the boys would not act like this in front of their father. Not when he sees how Dean forms himself into the perfect little soldier when his father comes near, and how Sam doesn't understand half of what occurs, but understand enough to know that if Dean acts in such a way, he ought to try and act the same way. For a moment, when the last laugh echoes through the house and, "Deaaaaan!" reaches his ears, he is glad that even for these too few moments, they can allow themselves to be regular kids.
With the three sit down at the table, Sam is the first to break the silence. Something nonsense like, "it's an earthquake!" passes through his mind briefly.
"Hey Bobby. Did you buy caramels?"
And the chestnut eyes of the hunter look down upon the eyes of the little one, who returns the look with one of hope with which Bobby is sure he receives all that he asks for; because he looks as if all of his hopes were on you. However, with age comes wisdom, and the boy still needed to learn a few tricks before he could manipulate him so easily. Yet Bobby knew deep down that he didn't have too much left to learn: the little one already had him beat in advance, with or without dazzling looks.
"Why the hell would I want caramels?"
And here he came. Bobby wanted to laugh when Sam's eyes suddenly changed expression, turning glassy in seconds, twisting his mouth into a pout, the envy of puppies everywhere. He realized that despite him only being a kid, he wasn't doing anything bad.
"But tomorrow is Halloween! Caramels must be eaten!" Bobby chose to ignore the tone of voice the child used, as if he were the adult trying to explain to a six-year-old child one of the great universal truths, and not the other way around.
"Does your father buy your caramels?"
Upon hearing this, Sam's determination appeared to falter for the first time. It left as quickly as it came, and the child once again smiled radiantly as he turned to face Dean, grabbing his attention with his spoon.
"No, but Dean always buys be caramels."
Perhaps. Bobby didn't doubt it. He also didn't doubt that Dean bought as much as he could, as he knew that could placate his younger brother.
"Well, I don't have any caramels, so you'll just have to make do with what we do have."
"But…"
"Sammy…"
Those grey eyes rested on the green ones, and when he saw the clear determination in them, he stopped protesting. As he drowned his spoon in his bowl of soup and Dean reached his slice of bread—only because Sam had already eaten the slice that Bobby had cut for him—the youngest one smiled at him, and also knew there were no caramels, but if he were to continue spending the day with Dean, it couldn't be that bad.
They spend the entire afternoon in the patio. Bobby was delighted that Dean put so much attention on everything he had said about motors and spare parts, while Sam played with the guard dog that Bobby had at that time. Bobby would have been more attentive to the younger one, but he realized that Dean always had an eye on him, and so he knew he could relax and enjoy this very unusual period of tranquility in his always hectic life. It seemed impossible that this peace came from those little devils. That ought to express a good idea of that insanity that his life had become in the last few years.
When they finish dinner and Bobby sends them to bed, they refuse, claiming, "I'm six years old! I'm older!" and "What are you talking about, tyke? I'm older. I'm ten years old, and I can stay up later!" Obviously, these complaints went in one ear and out the other, and Bobby watches as the boys drag their feet as they get into bed. When the hunter goes in to check on them half an hour later, he smiles as he sees both of them in their beds, snoring, likely in their third dream by this point.
He asks himself how much longer their innocence can last. How long until they are captivated by lessons of demons, knives, salt, and silver bullets? Without realizing it, he was thinking the same thing Mary Winchester wanted with all of her strength: that perhaps these boys would have some other future ahead of them; something completely different.
On the morning of the 31st, Dean and Sam head for the kitchen, finding it completely empty. The find a note on the table reading; "Went into town for a bit. If you wake before I return, make yourselves breakfast without burning down my kitchen." Dean goes to prepare breakfast for the both of them. It's not that Dean thinks he will actually fulfill that promise, but, just in case, he figures a bowl of cereal for breakfast is just as good as pancakes or toast.
What Bobby had not put in the note, however, was that he had gone into town to purchase caramels: a big bag for Sam and a slightly bigger one for Dean (he had to admit that). It didn't go unnoticed the brilliant eyes of the older brother when Sam had asked about the candy. And he asked himself if it were Dean who bought candy for Sam. Who bought it for him? As he bought the candy, Bobby thought that everyone—including himself—had forgotten that Dean was still a kid, too.
That sad thought disappears as he enters the house and hands over the bags of sweets to both of them, grumbling something about just having passed by the supermarket casually on his way back. Sam gives him a big hug before running off to who knows where—Bobby never ceased being surprised in that kids energy—and the smile that Dean sends him, full of freckles rather than dimples, before he runs off after Sam warms him inside far more effectively than the coffee he had drunk that morning to combat the November cold.
That afternoon, Bobby forgets the real demons and enjoys himself with the imaginary ones, sitting on the couch watching one bad movie after another with a bowl of popcorn, also bought at the candy store. He laughs; he doesn't remember the last time he sat down to watch a movie peacefully, much less a marathon. Dean enjoys every minute with outstanding emotion. In regards to Sam, well, the hunter pays him no mind, but he is certain the movements he occasionally feels on the sofa are due the Sam's never-ending bouncing. Even so, Sam never takes his eyes off the screen, and Bobby never ceases to be amazed by his curiosity, he who puts his opinion first, even before his own fear. Bobby is given the impression that Sam, when he's older, will take to books the same way he takes to the candy now.
When the third movie finally ends and Bobby sends the boys off to bed—much later than the previous night since the boys were so exited in the fact that it was Halloween—the boys did not protest. Probably because Sam had already been fighting to keep his eyes open for some time and even Dean was showing signs of tiredness. Not even the entire candy store with all of the sugar it holds could have prepared them for the adventures of Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees, and an army of zombies, one after another.
When Bobby observes them disappearing up the stairs just like the previous day, he makes himself more comfortable in the spot that the children had previously taken and watches as the credits roll for the fourth movie: The Thing. Bobby is certain that he will have a heart attack for watching so many movies in a row, but he's doing all right so far. And so he settles into the sofa even more, as he pulls out a third bag of caramels that the boys never even knew about.
"Ah, who ever said that being a nanny doesn't have its rewards?"
When Dean opens his eyes, he takes a few seconds before realizing what woke him. His eyes catch sight of Sam, who is standing next to his bed with bright eyes and a frightened expression.
"What's up, Sammy?" His voice is more of a groan than anything else, but he is sure that his brother understood him just the same.
"I'm scared."
"That's what you get for watching those movies. I told you that you were too young."
"I'm not too young!" he shouts, and Dean watches as his little brother puff up his cheeks in an effort to prove himself otherwise.
"Yeah, but now you're scared," he says as he yawns before returning to bed, putting his face on the pillow in the same manner it was before he had been awoken. "Go back to bed, Sam. Nothing is going to happen."
Dean believes that Sam has heeded his word and returned to his bed as he doesn't hear anything. But just as he is about to fall back to sleep, he hears his younger brother's voice from the exact same place he heard it before.
"Can I sleep with you?"
And Dean desperately wanted to tell him no, that he ought to be able to sleep on his own without problems at his age, and that there are things out there far more dangerous than what he saw on the television screen. To hunt there creatures is why their father leaves so often, leaving them in the care of their uncle Bobby, sometimes leaving them alone. Dean and Sam needed to become as strong as him, and they would never achieve that level of strength if they couldn't even sleep in their own beds.
But when he opens his eyes and looks at Sam, and sees how he looks at the window, then the closet, and finally back to him, he surrenders, and without saying a word moves over to the end of the bed and muffles something into the pillow that may as well have been, "One kick and you're out."
Sam doesn't hear him, because Sam is too preoccupied with the spaces that Dean has given him, covering himself completely with all the blankets and bed-sheets he needed to cover up from the cold. The closet and the window are still there, but Sam is suddenly unafraid.
"Good night, Dean."
This time, whether muffled into the pillow or not, his words are heard through the entire room. "Good night, Sammy."
As Bobby heads off to his room, he stops to check up on the boys, and is momentarily shocked to find Sam's bed empty. The hunter is already preparing to take up arms in search of him before seeing him in his brother's bed, both of them sleeping calmly side by side.
Bobby takes a sigh of relief, closes the door carefully, and set off for his room once again. Perhaps one day, the innocence that the boys are so proud of will be lost—no, not lost. It will be taken from them—but seeing them like that, together, Bobby knew that come what may, the boys would be okay as long as they were together.
The next time Bobby watches the Impala drive off, it is the 1st of November, and this time only the old junk yard and the old hunter are left behind. Running footsteps are no longer heard going from one place to the next, nor laughter from any corner of the house. The emptiness feels almost impossible.
Turning around, he heads off to return to his daily routine: with real monsters instead of the little caramel-eating monsters and the ones that chase you with a power saw.
The closing of the door behind him is the loudest sound heard throughout the entire day.
They didn't know it, but all three of them would guard the memory of that Halloween with much love and care; one of those simple memories that give their life meaning as they live as hunters. It was memories like these that they sought to protect, and it was worth risking their lives for. They would always have a family, even if it wasn't of blood.
They didn't know it, but that Halloween would be the last one they would ever celebrate together.
They couldn't have asked for a better farewell.