A/N: Number 3 in my hundred themes challenge. The first two can be found on my profile page, right here on , go check em out! First one is Option, second one is Audio.

Reviews would be absolutely grand, please. I have no idea if you people like the stuff I'm writing and to be honest, it's quite discouraging when I get absolutely NO feedback for a story I personally didn't think was THAT bad. C'mon guys, take five seconds and write something. Not hard. : ( Flame it for all I care, then I KNOW it was bad and I'm not left feeling out of sorts about the thing.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the boys, I just borrow em for fun times.

Trusty

"What you got there, kiddo?" John Winchester crouched down beside his youngest child and peered over the tiny shoulder with a smile and curiosity in his eyes.

"Dwawing," Sam announced happily and held up a red crayon that looked gigantic in the tiny hand. At the moment, the colour red and the crayon in the little boy's hand were synonymous with the word 'Daddy,' and gigantic, pleading hazel-green eyes that instantly made the old, gruff man melt and buy the kid some more whenever he ran out. Dean was sitting nearby with an assortment of toy cars scattered around him and a fake pistol, his eyes purely concentrated on those objects and nothing else in the room as he studied every detail about them. However, when Sam's tiny voice floated to his ears, Dean glanced up and watched for a moment before returning to his studies and ideas of which car he liked the most.

John reached down and slid the paper out from the many unused, different coloured crayons and lifted it closer to himself so he could try and identify what the scribbled red mess was. Somewhere amongst the flowing lines and random abc's, John thought he could see a smiley face and perhaps a hand but it looked more like a mangled mess from one of his hunts than anything else. The boys wouldn't have the slightest idea about those – except Dean was starting to clue into the fact that something wasn't right with this world now and was more protective of Sammy than ever – so how would Sam know to draw something like that?

"This is great, kiddo," John praised all the same and laid the paper back down on the floor again. Sam peered up at him with huge eyes and a look akin to suspicion on his face.

"Nuh," he noised. The statement sounded negative to John's ears but he raised an eyebrow and ruffled the brown hair all the same to give the child more encouragement. He was slightly confused when Sam shrugged him off, though. "Daddy, nuh. Is bad! You dun know wha' it even IS!" The final word was stressed to the point that the child's voice came out in a loud squeak that John found adorable, but also found quite hard to take seriously. Despite the stressing of the sentence from the five year old and the notion that the picture was bad – which it was but hey, he was a kid, what did the world expect – Sam didn't seem upset by his own statement. In fact, he looked more like he was pretty ok with it.

John himself was nonplussed and didn't really know what to say, but salvation came in the form of his oldest son as it always seemed to when dealing with Sam and in future times, he would come to depend on. Dean looked towards the conversation taking place and then got up and wandered over so he could flop onto the floor beside his brother and take a look at the masterpiece that his little bro had constructed.

"It's me," Dean stated simply after not even a moment of glancing at the red lines. Sam turned and stared at his brother like he was an alien before his face slowly split into a gigantic grin and his hazel-green eyes lit up to the point where he was oh-so-proud of himself that he could've burst with the emotion.

"YEAH," Sam exclaimed as he threw his hands into the air and then gave his big brother a huge hug – or as huge as he could manage, midget that the kid was at this age. John stared at his boys' interactions and then raised a hand to scratch at his dark hair and wondered what he was missing here. Surely even Dean, who knew every little thing about Sam and watched over the kid almost 24/7 like a parent, wouldn't know what that mess on the paper was?

"How about you draw some more and I'll make you a sandwich, Sammy," Dean asked as he gently pried the small arms off himself and then got to his feet again. Raising his trusty red crayon and pulling another random sheet of paper to himself, Sam wriggled himself into position and then began scribbling on the page once again. Another drawing of Dean and his cars was in order! John followed his oldest boy into the kitchen and helped him get some of the stuff for the PB&J sandwich he was going to make for Sam. His question was unvoiced but still noticed by the seven year old in front of him.

"Sam always tries drawing me, it's easy to guess what most of the scribbles are," Dean stated without even looking at his Father as he buttered the bread and began spreading the peanut butter. "He ain't gonna be no artist, but." John's smile at the original sentence turned to full blown laughter at the blunt statement that followed directly after it.

"No, Dean-o, he sure ain't." Man was he glad to have his boys around to keep him amused.

End

A/N: If you didn't get how 'Trusty' relates to this, my main point was aiming it at the fact that Sam loves using his trusty red crayon. Just to clarify, lol. Thanks everyone!