When Love Costs Twenty Dollars and Fifty Cents.
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Dean looked longingly at the shop window where 'The Extra Big Book of World Fairy Tales' had caught his eye.
Sammy loved hearing a story before he went to sleep at night, his puppy-eyes wide with awe as Dean recycled the same made–up tales over and over again, but now eight-year old Dean's creative streak was just about exhausted.
He needed new material to keep Sammy contented and the book in the window was the very thing.
Sam's happiness had been his number one priority since Dad had placed the warm baby in his arms four years ago. His little brother belonged to him now, it was his job to look out for him.
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He shouldn't even be here but Dad had parked the Impala across the road from the book-store at the grocery shop yesterday, and he had glimpsed the multi-coloured book while waiting for him to come out with supplies.
He had glanced down at the floppy-haired little boy sleepily curled up against him so trustingly, secure in the knowledge that his big brother would keep him safe, and a primordial surge of protection and love for the little guy tore through Dean like a physical manifestation. He had pulled Sammy closer while a shiver of fear mounted in him; emotions too strong for a child like himself to elaborate and Dean hadn't tried to.
However he did know that his greatest fear was that one day he might not be able to protect Sammy, but he sure as heck was certain he would die trying.
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Dad had left them milk and food and gone off on a hunt nearby, warning Dean to lock themselves in and not go out. He had assured him that he'd be back in a couple of days at most ,and as always his last words were to look out for Sam.
John had pressed a few dollars into Dean's hand. "For emergencies," he had said.
Well in Dean's opinion, Sam needing new stories was an emergency, so he had put his little brother to bed for his afternoon nap, locked him in and run down to the book-shop.
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He lingered a moment in front of the window, then pushed open the door and walked up to the counter.
The middle-aged lady smiled down at him. "What can I do for you, young man?" she asked pleasantly.
Dean pointed to the book in the window. "I'd like that book, please."
Dad had begun to instruct him on how to make himself appealing to people in order to get their trust and make them talk more easily, and Dean used every occasion he had to practise, so he gave the woman his toothiest smile and widened his big eyes.
Sure enough she began to chatter. "Now let me just get you a copy from the shelves. It's a great choice. Lots and lots of stories to keep you going for quite a while."
Dean shook his head. "Oh, it's not for me. It's for my little brother; he loves to hear me read to him. He's only four you know, our Mom died when he was only a baby and Dad's too busy to read to him."
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He looked up at her, his freckled face open and innocent.
The woman felt her heart going out to the child standing before her. There was something about him that moved her. It was unexplainable but there it was.
"I'm sure he'll love this book then. Just a second and I'll wrap it up for you. It'll be a nice surprise."
"Yes ma'am," Dean answered beaming up at her.
"There you go. That'll be 20 dollars and 50 cents."
Dean pulled the scrunched-up notes out of his jacket pocket and smoothed them out one by one on the counter counting up to twenty, but when he fished for the 50 cents coin that should have been there too, it was gone.
He looked up in alarm. It must have fallen out along the way. He had forgotten about the darn hole he had accidentally put his finger through the other day.
He turned his pocket inside out and held it up in full view of the woman. "The... coin must have slipped out," he said biting back a curse word.
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He would have to try to soften her up. He had to have the book!
"What an I going to do now. Poor Sammy won't get any more stories and he'll be so sad," he began turning big weepy pleading eyes on her.
"I don't have any more money. I saved up for weeks to get this book for Sam and I can't go back to him without it. He'll just cry so hard," he finished off miserably.
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Whether the shop assistant was truly moved by his childish acting or whether she was ready to settle for the twenty dollars, Dean would never know, nor did he care as he ran all the way back to the motel, book in hand, happier than he had been in a long time.
Sam would be over the moon when he saw this and Dean would bask in his little brother's happiness.
When Dad came back and asked about the money, Dean would tell him the truth. If Dad gave him a dressing down, he'd get over it, it wouldn't be the first time. Anything for his little brother!
He opened the door and walked over to the bed. He slipped onto it next to Sam and held the book in his arms waiting for him to wake up, anticipating the joy it would bring to them both.
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