Disclaimer: These are not my characters, they belong to the ultra-amaze-balls creators of Supernatural.
And I am making zero money at of this.
This is just for fun.
Dean Winchester had over the years of his unconventional childhood developed a catalogue of scents, sounds, and textures in the back of his mind to refer to i times of need and comfort. It had started during the seemingly endless first few months after the death of his mother, Mary, as he had spent hours upon hours huddling himself up with a blanket or dress or something similar breathing in the fading but familiar scent of his late mother.
He had gone on to obsessively remember the names and shapes of her perfume bottles, make up, and soaps. During this time Dean had not uttered a single word. It was worrying to say the least, but not unexpected as small children who go through traumatic experiences are often unpredictable in grief.
At four years old Dean Winchester had lost a mother, and was losing a father to the bottle. Sammy, who was so small Dean could close his whole fist around both his little hands; would cry and cry until his little face was so red and their Daddy would shout and shout at Dean to get Sammy to just shut up. And Dean hated the noise. He just wanted to runaway.
For along time it seemed like it wouldn't get any better. And in away it never really did. At four years old Dean Winchester and his Daddy and his baby brother Sammy could be seen driving down the long forever stretching roads searching for the yellow eyes that killed Mary Winchester.
At four years old Dean Winchester had lost his mother, and was losing his father to obsession, lost his childhood to give Sammy one, lost his innocence to keep people safe from the things that go bump in the night.
Hi this is my first ever fan fiction, so please review. I welcome any and all constructive criticism because I know it will help me improve my writing.
I have just attempted to improve this current one shot based on a wonderful review and suggestions, thank you so much happyday girl, however if I get any more ideas this may become a multi-chapter fic.
The lady in front of Dean in the queue for the till had been continuously sneaking glances at Dean; her eyes disapproving as she surveyed the small boy and his even smaller companion.
Dean was struggling with little Sammy, who had decided in a state of boredom to climb upon his brother like a monkey whilst Dean was mugging along their grocery basket with a worn trainer covered foot.
Both boys were wearing yesterdays clothing,Sammy's being hand-me-downs to large, constantly needing to be tugged up to stop from falling down.
The woman, a middle-aged sour faced woman tutted and mumbled about brats and poor parenting, but Dean ignored her.
At eight years old dean had spent the past four years looking after Sammy and his dad, making meals, taking clothes to the public laundry rooms, and recently dad had given Dean the task of buying the food.
To which Dean now felt like a grown up, like the mother he clung in his memories and dreams; trying to replicate the shopping he could remember buying with her before.
At eight years old Dean was both a child and a parent. A budding Hunter and and a third grade student.
Since the Winchester family had really begun to move around a lot with the father's growing knowledge and confidence in hunting Dean's appearances in school had started to fall, as they were either with their current neighbour or holed up in a motel on a hunt that had stretched a little longer than the expected weekend. And Sammy would have to start kindergarten soon.
This chapter is a little shorter, but it's really just a filler.
Here are some ideas on how this story can continue so please tell me which idea you like best in the review section.
Review and you get hugs from little Dean and Sammy.
Will be continuing as a several chapter fic.