North Carolina, 1990
On the road from the library to the motel, John buys the boys an ice-cream. That's quite unusual and it's not even their birthday! Dean chooses chocolate and Sam, pistachio. Dean calls him a weirdo for this. Back at the motel room, John locks himself in the bathroom to take a shower. As he undresses, he hears Sam ask his brother:
"Dean? What was Mom's favorite ice-cream flavor?"
John tenses at the mention of Mary. Dean's voice is upset as he whispers.
"I don't know, Sammy. And we don't talk about Mom, you know that. So stop asking stupid questions, alright?"
Sam doesn't answer and John hears Dean turn the TV on. He sighs. He wishes he was able to talk about Mary with his sons. He wishes he was able to tell Sammy that since the day he had met her, he teased her about always choosing the pistachio flavor.
Montana, 1989
It's 9pm when John and Dean limp their way into the motel room. Still awake, Sam runs to them and throws himself into Dean's arms.
"Ow, ow!", Dean cringes, holding his stomach.
"Careful, Sammy. Dean is a little sore," John explains.
Sam immediately takes a step back and scans his brother's body. He has several scratches all over his face and arms, and one deeper cut on his forehead. Sam covers his mouth with his hand in shock. Dean started hunting with their dad a few months ago but even though John always chooses easy hunts for him and is careful enough not to let him be too exposed to the monsters during the actual hunt, Dean often comes home with minor wounds.
"Are you hurt, Dee?", Sam asks.
"I'm fine, Sammy. It's nearly nothing. Dad's gonna take care of it.", Dean reassures him.
Can I help you heal Dean, Daddy?" he asks to John.
John himself is in bad shape. His nose and lips are bleeding and multiple wounds cover his body. But Sammy's used to that.
" I'm gonna take care of his forehead and you can take care of the rest, okay?"
Sam nods.
"Come on, Deano." John strokes Dean's hair and leads him to the bathroom, Sam following suit.
While their dad dresses his brother's wound, Sam holds Dean's hand tight. 'He's so brave', Sammy thinks.
When John is done, he hands Sam a disinfectant spray and a box of band-aids.
"Here you go, big boy."
Sammy seems really honored to be given this task.
"I'm fine," Dean sighs.
"Sssh. It's okay, Dee," Sam says in his best nurse voice. "I'm gonna take care of you."
He takes the spray and shakes it.
"It's not gonna sting, I promise."
Dean grits his teeth anyway. He knows it will. Sam sprays on the scratches, one after the other. Then he reaches for the band-aids. Dean smiles faintly. Sammy is really focused, his tongue out, as he slowly sticks the band-aids on Dean's superficial wounds. Dean lets him do his stuff, waiting patiently. When he's done, Sam gives a peck on Dean's forehead, like he's seen their dad do.
"Now it won't hurt anymore!", Sam says proudly.
"Thank you, Sammy."
Dean's smiling, but he's worried. He's dreading more and more the day when Sammy will be the one who's gonna need dressing after a hunt. He wishes it existed some sort of band-aid to soothe the mind.
Arizona, 1988.
It's already late. John has been gone for three days and is to be back on Sunday. "Two more sleeps," Dean keeps telling Sam. The little kid has asked three times today.
"I like staying with you, but I don't like it when Daddy's gone for too long," Sam says while changing into his kid pajamas.
"I know, buddy," Dean answers.
Sam's 5 now but he still misses John everytime he leaves for 'work'. Dean finishes brushing his teeth, then comes and checks on Sam's outfit. Good, nothing upside down.
"Perfect, Sammy. Now, time for bed."
Sam jumps into their bed and slides under the warm covers.
"I'm gonna stay up and read for a while, okay, Sammy? I'll be right there."
" 'Kay."
Dean turns off the light, only keeping the table lamp on.
"Dee!" Sam screams suddenly.
"What?"
"I can't find Peanut."
Peanut is his elephant cuddly toy. It used to be Dean's.
Dean sighs and turns the lights back on to help Sam look for his elephant. He finally finds it under the bed. Sam hugs it against his chest, hiding his nose in the soft grey hair on Peanut's head.
"Okay, now you go to sleep," Dean says as he turns the lights off again.
"Dee?..." Sammy asks in a whisper.
"Now, what?"
"Can I have a goodnight kiss?"
Dean sighs.
"Sammy, you're 5. And you've got Peanut."
"Please..." Sam begs him, using the voice he knows his brother can't resist.
"Alright, alright.."
Dean comes to the bed and kisses Sam on the cheek. Strokes his hair. Then Sam hands him his elephant.
"Oh, come on now, Sam."
"Please. Peanut misses Daddy too."
Dean sighs again and gives a quick kiss on the elephant's trunk.
"Here you go. Now both you and Peanut can have a good night sleep," Dean says, giving Sam's hair a few extra strokes.
They keep silent for a moment. Dean thinks Sammy's falling asleep when he whispers.
"I feel sad for you, Dee."
Dean frowns, wondering where that comes from.
"Why is that, Sammy?"
Sam seems to think about the way to express his thoughts. Then he speaks, still in a whisper.
"I only have to miss Daddy for a few days now and then. But you, you miss Mommy every day. Forever."
Dean remains speechless for a moment. Sammy may only be 5, but God the kid is smart.
Ohio, 1987
Dean's lying on their motel bed, reading a comic-book and 4 year-old Sammy is right next to him, staring at his face. He keeps pointing his small finger to Dean's face, mumblig numbers.
"...eight, nine, ten, ten-one, ten-two..."
Dean turns his head to him.
"What are you counting, Sammy?"
"Your little dots."
Sammy's always been fascinated by Dean's freckles.
Texas, 1984
John's doing research on the small motel table. This damn killer could be a wendigo. He finally opts for the wendigo scenario when Dean comes running to him.
"Daddy, daddy! Sammy's doing it again!"
John lifts his head to his young son. His mind is fuzzy due to the many drinks he had. Again.
"What's that?"
"Sammy's trying to say 'daddy'! Come and listen!"
Sammy just turned 1 last month. So far, he only spoke in baby noises and gurgles. But apparently, it's been a few days since he started trying to say his first real word. Except that John was never here when it happened.
"Come, Daddy, please! He's calling for you."
Dean is so enthusiastic that John can't say no. Dean only seems to be happy when he's playing with Sam. Since their mother died, he's stopped smiling, stopped laughing, except around his baby brother. God bless Sammy for that. John gets up and strokes Dean's hair.
"Alright, buddy. Let's hear what Sammy's want to tell me."
Little Dean takes his dad's hand and leads him to the bathroom, where's Sammy's stroller is as it's the coolest place in the motel room. When he sees them entering, Sam lets go of his cuddle toy and starts clapping.
"Deeee, Deeee!"
Dean is hysterical.
"Hear that? He's happy to see you!"
They both kneel in front of the baby. John takes his little hand in his.
"Hey, baby. What are you trying to say?"
Dean imitates John and takes Sam's other hand in his.
"Can you say it, Sammy? Daddy."
Sammy gurgles happily, looking at his big brother.
"Deee!"
Dean shakes the little hand gently.
"Almost! Da-ddy."
"Deeeeeeeee!" Sam says louder with a huge toothless smile.
John smiles to himself. He should have guessed
"Dean, honey, would you try something for me? Go in the other room for a second"
Dean frowns at his dad
"But why?"
"Just testing my theory with Sammy"
Dean does as he's told and goes sit on the bed, out of their sight. The reaction is instant.
"Deee! Deeeeee!" Sammy shrieks.
John laughs and takes Sam in his arms.
"You're such a little devil, Sammy," he says, kissing his head. "Come back, Deano. Sammy told me everything."
Dean comes running back, confused.
"What was all that, Daddy?"
When he sees his brother, Sam reaches out to him, smiling wide.
"Deeee!"
"Don't you get it, champ? Sammy's not trying to say 'daddy'. He's saying your name."
Dean's eyes go wide.
"Sammy's saying my name? But he doesn't even know how to say daddy yet.
John gently pats Dean's shoulder.
"I guess he'd rather learn how to say his big brother's name first."
Dean can't believe it.
"Can I hold him?"
"Sure, buddy," John answers, handing him the baby.
Sammy gurgles again, obviously happy, and his little hands reach for Dean's nose and lips.
"Dee."
Dean smiles.
"Yes, Sammy, it's me. Can you say my name? Dean."
"Dee. Dee. Deeee."
Dean laughs softly and kisses Sam's head.
"You're a big boy, Sammy. Just like Dee."
In the other room, John smiles to himself. Of course. Of course Sammy's first word was going to be 'Dean'.