It's just a minor concussion, barely even bothers him actually. He knows how fast it could all go downhill though, and he really doesn't want to risk totaling the Impala with his boys in the back.
A coupe of aspirin for the headache and remembering to move a little slower so he doesn't throw off his balance, he knows how to handle this kind of situation. That's why he hasn't called and had Bobby and Pastor Jim come pick him and the boys up from The-Middle-Of-Nowhere, Arkansas.
As long as he's careful, he can take care of his boys.
"Daddy!"
No amount of aspirin can conquer the pain of Sammy's squeal. The kid sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
Cuter than a button, but with lungs to rival a banshee on steroids.
"Daddy up!"
That's probably not the best idea, being a little off balance and all, but the last time he told Sammy 'no', the boy's big brown eyes filled with enough tears to fill a small lake.
The kid also didn't talk to him for a day.
When a toddler resorts to using the silent treatment, well, that was a special kind of torture he never wanted to go though again.
Never. Again.
"C'mere, Sammy."
He scoops his baby boy up, blows a raspberry on his cheeks, and smiles when his boy squeals and giggles, despite the sound making him want to almost cry.
The kids got everyone wrapped around his chubby little fingers.
"Hm?"
A question in the form of a quiet hum comes from behind him. When he turns, he sees Dean, his little man, with a furrowed brow. His head may be tilted to the side like a confused child, but his face, his eyes, make it seem like the little boy has seen more than most mend ten times his again.
Which, he supposes, is true in this line of work.He wished the boy would talk, but it's been a year and all he's heard from Dean are a variety of hums and the occasional "Sammy" when Dean thinks no one is around.
It's hard to believe that there used to be a time when he wished the boy would be quiet. Now, he finds himself praying to a God he's not sure he believes in just to hear Dean say something.
If his wife was still alive, there's no doubt in his mind that everything would be better.
But she's gone and she's never coming back. Death is permanent.
(Well, it's supposed to be, but he's seen enough to know that people who come back aren't actually people.)
(They've all been through enough as it is, he doesn't want to make things any worse than they already are.)
He's about to ask Dean if he and Sammy are hungry when a truly putrid smell hits him in the nose. He gags and holds Sammy away from his body, staring at the boy in disgusted amazement.
He's burned bodies, countless bodies, and they have nothing on a freshly used Sammy diaper.
The boy has the oddest talents, he'd give him that.
"Mm."
There's a sudden tug at his pant leg and when he looks down, there's Dean. His little man tugs on his pants again, then holds his arms out for his baby brother.
The fact that Dean's not reacting to the horrible stench makes him feel horrible for not being around to change more of Sammy's diapers.
He feels bad enough for not being around much as it is.
"Ugh!"
A fresh wave of nasty hits him again and when he hears Dean huff in impatience, he moves to hold Sammy with one arm and ruffle Dean's hair with the other.
"I can change him."
When Dean makes a snorting sound and rolls his eyes, he gives the kid a look.
His little man has so little faith in him, it makes him want to laugh.
He used to change Dean's diaper all the time, before. He can change Sammy's too. It can't be all that hard.
At least he hopes it's not.
He goes to the first bed in their motel room and lays a giggling Sammy down on his back, Dean watching his every move like a hawk. He understands. After losing everything in the fire, Sammy was really all his little man had left. It makes sense that Dean would be clingy and anxious about Sammy and the people who come close to him.
It makes him feel like Dean doesn't trust him with the kid though, but he's not going say anything.
If this is Dean's way of coping, then who was he to try and change that?
"Daddy! Yucky!"
The smell seems to actually bother Sammy now, which is hilarious. The boy can't even handle his own stink.
He gently undoes the flaps with a chuckle that quickly turns into a series of gags. Between the mess and the smell, he starts to doubt he can do this without barfing, but he's already started this and he's going to see it to the end. Even though he really doesn't want to.
Dean's watching him with a frown and eyes that track his every move. To give up now would show weakness.
There's no doubt in his mind that if he showed signs of giving up, the boy would push him out of the way and do the job quickly and efficiently.
He might only weigh forty pounds, but his little man knew how to throw it around.
With Dean still watching him, he manages to clean Sammy off and roll the nightmare inducing Huggie up and toss it in the trash can.
He feels like he can actually breathe now that the smell is gone, not to mention since Sammy's cleaned now, Dean's relaxed a bit. The kid is still watching closely, but he's not as tense as he was.
If Dean kept this up, he'd be gray by the time he's twelve.
He hears a mischievous coo and when he turns his attention back to Sammy, he barely dodges fast enough to miss the steady stream of pee aimed his way. It still ends up hitting him in the chin and chest and he's so caught up in the surprise, that he doesn't recognize the giggle he hears.
"Sammy! Hee-Hee! Ha!"
He's just been peed on by his two year old and he can't even bring himself to be mad because for the first time in a year, Dean's laughing.
He's laughing now too and grabs up both his boys and starts to tickle them. The boys are smiling and laughing, and so is he. He's smiling so hard his face actually hurts.
God, it's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.