Mary Winchester smiled at the sight of her eldest son, Dean, dressed in his Batman costume as he stood at the top of the staircase. He had been talking non-stop about Trick-Or-Treating since the beginning of the month and now that the night was finally here, he could barely contain his excitement.
"DADDY!" the four-year old shouted from the top of the stairs, lifting the black plastic mask up as he did so.
"Don't yell," Mary scolded, "Sammy's sleeping."
Dean walked down two steps, looking chagrinned, "Sorry Mommy."
John appeared behind Dean, having scrounged for an old pillowcase to carry candy from the linen closet.
"Sure you don't want to come along?" He asked as he reached down, grabbing Dean and slinging him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the four-year-old squealing with laughter.
Mary shook her head, "You two have fun. Sammy and I are gonna hang out here tonight. Maybe watch a scary movie or two."
John, coming down the staircase with still draped over his shoulder, smirked, "Doesn't look like he's gonna be much company."
Mary glanced down at the baby in her arms and bowed her head to kiss the dark patch of hair sticking up in a cowlick over his brow.
"We'll be fine," she told her husband, "I'll make popcorn, maybe have a glass of wine…"
"You're okay to go out by yourself this year, right Dean?" John asked the four-year-old, "I think I'll stay here with your Mom."
"No way!" Dean protested.
John sighed in an exaggerated way and lifted his eldest son from his shoulder, setting him on his feet.
"If you insist," he commented before moving closer to his wife and kissing her, "Maybe save some of that wine for when we get back."
His wife smiled, "I'll try."
"C'mon Daddy," Dean tugged at the hem of John's shirt, "I wanna go get candy."
"Put your shoes on," John told him.
Reaching out, he put a hand on Sammy's forehead, brushing the cowlick up before planting a kiss on the soft skin.
"Be safe," Mary told Dean and John.
"We will," her husband assured her.
"Love you," she told Dean.
"Love you, Mommy," the four-year-old replied, facing the front door, pillowcase clutched tightly in his hands, his body nearly thrumming with excitement.
Mary laughed and watched her husband and son leave. Once they were out the door, she carried Sammy into the kitchen and, while she cradled him in one arm, poured herself a large glass of white wine.
Bringing the glass to her lips to take a sip, Mary paused; there it was again, that nagging feeling that something was wrong that had been bothering her for the past week, like she was forgetting something important but for the life of her she couldn't figure out where it was coming from.
Pulling the glass away from her mouth, Mary peered down at her baby. He seemed perfectly contented; sleeping peacefully in his fleecy yellow blanket and red footie pajamas.
Shrugging her shoulders, Mary took a sip of wine and turned, heading to head into the living room and find something to watch on TV.
Author's Note:
Just a little drabble I felt like writing on a whim.
I know it's not much but I have been struggling with stress at work, being unhappy where I am and I am finding it very difficult to write. I am trying to fix it but I don't know how long this will last. Please have patience and know that I have not abandoned any of my stories. I am writing when I can, what I can, in the hopes that I will get the motivation and desire to tackle the bigger stories again.
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