Summary: Four year old Dean draws a picture about the day they brought 'Baby Sammy' home from the hospital.
Warnings: None. Excessive fluff ;)
Disclaimer: Writing and drawing belongs to me. Everything else belongs to Kripke, CW and co.
Drawn with Love
By Lanthiriel25
"Mommy?"
Mary turned from the washing up to see Dean in the doorway of the kitchen, piece of paper clutched tightly to his chest.
"I finished it, Mommy. You can see now. I drewed it for Sammy."
As he spoke Dean held out the paper towards his mom, a proud smile stretched across his face. He had spent the past half an hour laid on his stomach on the living room floor amidst the scattered paper and crayons, legs kicking up absently behind him as he concentrated on his drawing. When Mary had brought him his juice before going to check on a sleeping Sammy she had watched as Dean chewed his lip in concentration, nose barely inches from the paper as he grasped the blue crayon in his fist, colouring in what Mary assumed was sky. As she'd placed the juice cup on the coffee table Dean had snapped his head up, eyes wide, scrambling to cover his picture with his arms, hiding the figures from Mary's view.
"Not yet, Mommy! Not done yet!" Dean had protested loudly, watching his mom with narrowed eyes as she'd smiled fondly until he'd been sure she wasn't going to try to peek.
Mary quickly snatched the tea towel from the sideboard, drying her hands of the soap bubbles and water from the washing up, before making her way across the room, crouching down next to her son, wrapping an arm around his waist as she tilted her head to look at Dean's drawing. She felt Dean snuggle a bit closer into her side.
"Tha's you, Mommy," Dean pointed to his drawing of Mary. "Tha's Sammy. I drewed him small cos he's just a baby. And tha's Daddy, next to the car, cos he likes cars. And look, I put birdies in the sky, just like the ones we saw at the park yes'day!"
Dean traced his little index finger across his picture as he pointed out all the bits of his drawing.
"And who's this little boy?" Mary asked with a smile, pointing to the figure next to her on the right hand side of the page.
"Tha's meee!" Dean exclaimed happily, bouncing in Mary's embrace. "And, see, we're all smiling cos Sammy got to come home with us!"
Dean twisted in his mom's hold, peering up at her so he could see her reaction, his smile growing as he saw the open joy on Mary's face.
"And here, Mommy," Dean emphasised, pointing to the words he'd carefully written next to each person. "I 'membered, just like you showed me!"
"Well done angel! You're such a clever boy! And do you know what?"
Dean shook his head, eyes wide as he searched his mom's face for a clue to the answer to her question.
"I think that your writing is even better than your dad's already! His is so messy, not nice and neat like yours!" Mary emphasised her words by tapping him gently on the nose, causing Dean to giggle.
Dean beamed at his mom's praise, causing Mary's heart to swell. Faced with her eldest's wide, innocent green eyes shining with happiness and the smattering of freckles which were sprinkled across his young, rosy cheeks, Mary was so proud of her boy. She reached up, carding her hand gently through his soft hair, planting a kiss on his temple before squeezing him more tightly into her arms, holding him close.
"Do you think Daddy will like it?" Dean asked curiously.
"I'm sure he will, honey," Mary smiled, cupping his cheek tenderly, before standing up. "He's gonna be back from work in about half an hour so you can surprise him then."
Dean nodded, glancing down at his picture once again, bottom lip caught in his teeth, brow slightly furrowed.
"Dean?"
At Mary's question, Dean looked up, meeting her kind gaze.
"Wanted to write a title for it, but didn't know how. Can you help me, Mommy? Please?"
Dean's earnest expression would have made it impossible for the hardest of hearts to refuse that request; Mary melted.
"Course I can, sweetie. Hop up."
Ignoring the rest of her chores, Mary helped Dean up onto one of the kitchen chairs before going to collect some paper and crayons from the other room. Returning to the kitchen, she sat herself in the chair next to her eldest son, pulling a piece of paper forward, writing out the words Dean wanted to use. Dean's soft breath teased through her hair as he pressed close, peering over her arm to study what she was doing. Mother and son spent the rest of the afternoon working on his title for the picture. That was how John found them an hour later when he got home from the garage; heads bent over the table, soft murmurs and quiet laughs coming from both of them as Mary cut out the red crayon words and Dean glued them on to his picture where he wanted them.
"Hey Dean."
"Daddy!"
Dean launched himself off his chair, pulling his picture with him, not caring that the glue had barely dried. John bent down, expecting an armful of excitable four-year-old-boy but instead was confronted with a blurry picture being thrust in his face. Taking the paper from Dean he held it at a better distance to take in the detail.
"It's the day we bringed Sammy home!" Dean explained enthusiastically. "That was the best day ever, wasn't it Daddy?! Even as good as birthdays and Christmas!"
"Sure was, bud," John agreed, ruffling Dean's hair.
"Mommy said we could put my picture on the…on the fr….fridge. Said my writing's better than yours."
"Did she now?" John teased as he lifted Dean into his arms, bringing him into the kitchen, raising an eyebrow at his wife.
"Oh shut up Winchester, you know you're the only one who can read your writing. And sometimes not even you!"
"Fair point," John conceded as he leant over to kiss his wife on the cheek. "So Dean, on the fridge you say?"
Dean nodded brightly in his dad's arms, picture still held proudly in his grip. "When Sammy's 'wake I'm gonna show him too, cos the picture's all 'bout him!"
John chuckled at Dean's response as he put him down. He went to fetch the sticky tape as Dean held the picture against the cold metal where he wanted the drawing to go, beaming proudly in the face of his parents' love and praise. Returning with the tape John secured the picture pride of place on the fridge for all to see.
And there Dean's picture stayed for five months, three weeks and three days. Its edges curling and colour fading slightly as time passed. A testament to the love of a family; father, mother and sons. The love of a little boy for his baby brother. For 170 days it reflected the happy family who lived in that loving home.
But then evil came, burning quick and deadly through that house. The simple, precious drawing blackened in the smoke, fire eating up the edges as the tape holding it in place shrivelled and melted, the unrecognisable charred remains falling, forgotten, to the floor as the suddenly shattered family huddled together on the lawn, watching, grieving, crying, as their world changed forever.
But the love of that little boy, the love for his baby brother, was not dimmed, not forgotten; it burned brighter and hotter than the fire which tore their life apart, burning strong for all eternity, for his brother, for always.
The End
AN: If you're interested in seeing Dean's drawing, drop me a message and I can send you a link - I tried to link it here but it wouldn't let me :(
Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed. Reviews much appreciated :)