Chapter 2

So, Sam watched Micah, that night. He parked beside Clarissa's car, in front of their door, letting Riot out before shutting the car door. There was a guy sitting over on a dining room chair, next to his door, smoking.

He caught Sam looking at him. "What you lookin' at, white boy?" the guy nodded over at him.

Sam quickly, turned away, making sure to lock the Impala before walking over to Clarissa's apartment and knocked. Clarissa answered it and let him, in.

Stepping into the small apartment, Sam saw it was a studio, with one mattress and boxspring on the floor, over in the far corner of the room. There was a TV sitting over on the dresser, with a floor lamp next to it. Off the small living area was a small kitchen, with an even smaller bathroom.

"Sorry for the mess," Clarissa apologized as Sam looked around. Riot was sniffing around the place, as well.

"It's okay." Sam noticed a pile of toys, along with a red Flyer tricycle.

"Don't worry about Danny, out there, by the way," she added. "His bark is worse than his bite." Clarissa turned to their daughter. "Micah, you need to go potty?"

The little girl was over at the pile of toys, playing. "No," she replied, pushing a toy fire truck around the tiled floor.

Clarissa moved over to her and checked down the back of her pants, seeing Micah had already gone. "Come on, love. Let's change your pull-up." She took her by the hand. "We just started potty-training."

Sam nodded. So, his daughter was still in diapers. The guy wasn't looking forward to that. He had never changed a diaper, before. He watched Dean do it, that one time, when they babysat that baby shapeshifter. Doing it on his own, Sam wasn't so sure of.

He wandered a few steps over to the loveseat, sitting on the edge. Sam looked around where Riot was, finding him over in the kitchen, licking up old, spilled food underneath a kid's folding table. Realizing the dog hadn't eaten yet, Sam headed back out to the Impala, going into the trunk and scooped some food into a bowl. He took it, inside, sitting in his same spot.

"Come, boy." Riot came when Sam called, where his food was waiting and started eating. Sam rubbed the dog's back as he ate.

"No. I want Daddy to do it," they heard Micah say.

Shortly after, Clarissa reappeared. "Sam, would you mind giving Micah, her bath?" she asked.

"Uh...sure, I guess." Sam stood up, again.

"I'm sorry. I guess, now that you're here, Micah wants you to do everything, for now."

"It's no problem," he assured her. Sam followed Clarissa into the small bathroom where she shut off the water. She picked up a bottle, "this is her shampoo and body wash." Setting it, down, Clarissa went over to a linen closet, outside of the bathroom, and pulled out a towel and washcloth. She set them on the toilet lid.

Sam pulled his jacket off, taking it over to drape over the arm of the loveseat. He returned, rolling up his sleeves, more. Micah was already undressed, and playing in the bath.

"Have you done this, before?" Clarissa asked.

"No," he admitted.

"It's not hard. You'll do fine." But, she did watch him.

Sam kneeled by the tub. There was a tap on his shoulder. He looked up to see Clarissa handing him a souvenir cup from a movie theater, telling him he could use it to wet her hair. Sam took it, thanking her and scooped some water into it. Taking a deep breath, he told Micah to shut her eyes before pouring the water over her head, using his other hand to shield them, as well. He repeated the process, making sure her hair was wet enough, and picked up the bottle of shampoo/body wash, squirting some into his palm.

Lathering the sweet-smelling liquid into his hands, Sam lathered the stuff into Micah's hair, making sure to get down to the roots.

"Does that hurt, Mic?" he asked, hoping he wasn't doing it too hard.

"No, no hurt," she shook her head in his hands.

That was a relief.

Once her hair was all lathered, Sam rinsed his hands in the bath water and picked up the cup he had dropped in there, scooping water into it. Cupping his hand over her eyes, he poured the water over her head, rinsing the soap out. Sam did it, twice, making sure it was all rinsed out.

While Sam lathered the washcloth with the soap, Micah played with a toy submarine, driving it through the water. He let her continue playing as Sam ran the washcloth over her small body, making sure to scrub the dirt off, and had her stand when he washed along her bottom, trying to make sure to be as gentle as he, possibly, could be. As he did, a memory he never thought Sam remembered, replayed in his mind, of Dean giving him, a bath, doing the same thing. Sam was a little older than Micah is, now, though.

Micah looked up and broke his thoughts. "Why you sad?"

"Huh?"

"You sad," she pointed up at him.

"You think I'm sad?" he asked.

Micah nodded.

Sam forced a smile. "I was just thinking of my brother. He used to give me a bath when we were kids."

"Oh. You miss him?"

He stared down at the washcloth. "Yeah. I do." Sam looked up at his daughter. "You want to know something?"

"What?"

"I bet he'd love you," Sam moved his face in, towards hers, and kissed her cheek, a few times.

Micah squealed in delight and tossed some bath water at her father, soaking him.

"Hey, you little scamp," he laughed.

Clarissa couldn't help snicker behind her hand, trying to hide it.

When it was finally time to let Micah out of the tub, after the two of them played, a little, Sam lifted her out and set her on the, now, soaking wet rug. Clarissa had to explain to Sam, the difference between a pull-up and a diaper before he slid one on Micah and helped her get dressed in a pair of green and blue surfing Mickey Mouse, short-sleeved, two piece pajamas. They moved out to the loveseat, so Sam could place a pair of socks on her feet without them getting wet.

"Hey, Mic," Sam spoke afterwards.

"What?" she replied.

"You know I have to get you back for splashing me, in there. You know that, right?" A grin was spread across his face.

"Get me back?"

"Yup." Sam stood up and lifted Micah into the air, gently, slamming her on the loveseat, pinning her. He then, tickled his daughter's sides and stomach, making Micah squeal with laughter. She kicked the air with her feet as Micah held onto his lower arms.

After a minute, Sam finally eased off. Micah wasn't about to let it end, though. The little girl slid down from the loveseat and tackled her father. When he rolled over and tried to get up, Micah threw herself at him and tried to climb on his back. Sam lowered himself where she could and swung her leg over.

"I got Daddy," she declared.

Sam dropped onto the floor, looking back over his shoulder.

Clarissa had been cleaning up the bathroom while Sam and Micah played. She finally came out when Sam had the little girl pinned, again, tickling her, some more. He learned the hard way how much of a kicker Micah really was. Kicking her feet in the air, her foot, accidentally, collided with his nose, causing Sam, to stop, sitting back on his legs. He moaned as he held his nose.

"Are you alright, Sam?" Clarissa asked.

"Yeah. I'm good," he said from behind his hand. Thankfully, it didn't start bleeding. It still hurt.

Micah hadn't realized she had kicked her father in the nose and had ran around to tackle from behind, grabbing onto him. Sam didn't make a fuss about it since she was kicking because he was tickling her. It stopped hurting after a minute, anyway.

"Where's Micah?" he pretended he didn't know where she was. "I wonder where she went." Sam looked around the room. Micah giggled, ducking from sight as she continued to hold onto him. "Clarissa, have you seen Micah?"

"Gee, I don't know. Micah must be hiding," she played along.

At that point, Micah jumped from behind her father. "I here!"

"There you are," Sam smiled and grabbed his daughter in a big, bear hug, kissing her cheek.

Clarissa couldn't help smile at the scene. She turned to head to the kitchen, to make dinner before she had to leave for work.

Sam saw her and stood to his feet. "Here, let me. Why don't you rest."

"It's not a problem, " she tried to argue, but Sam wasn't having any of it. He eventually, persuaded Clarissa, to sit down and spend some time with their daughter while Sam fixed a box of macaroni and cheese and boiled a few hot dogs.

Clarissa turned on the TV, switching it to a kids' public TV channel, turning on cartoons for Micah.

"Mommy," Sam heard Micah. "I like Daddy."

"You do, huh?" she smiled.

"Yeah. Daddy's funny. Can Daddy watch me when you go work?"

"Of course, love."

Micah cheered as she threw her hands above her head which made Clarissa smile.

Riot was over, lying in front of the front door. Micah scurried over and plopped on the dog. "Hi, Ri-it," she greeted, mispronouncing his name. He lifted his head and licked the little girl's cheek, a few times. It made her giggle. "That tickles, Ri-it."

Clarissa had been watching, making sure neither one hurt the other. "Did Riot give you kisses, Micah?"

Micah sat up, sitting on the floor. "Yeah."

When the food was ready, Sam made Micah's plate, first, setting it on her table. "Food's ready, Micah," he called over to where she was now playing with her toys, again. Micah got to her feet and hurried over to her table. She frowned when she saw her plate. "What's wrong, Mic?"

"You cut hot dogs. I no like that," she shook her head, up, at her father.

"I'm sorry, Mic. I didn't know. Next time, I won't cut them. Okay?"

Micah hugged herself. "I no eat," she declared.

"Well, you're not getting anything else after dinner, tonight," he told her, firmly.

Clarissa had wandered over. She picked up Micah's plate. "This can be my dinner? How's that, love?"

She let go of herself. "Okay. Can I have Lucky Charms?"

"No. Daddy made dinner for us, love. You can't have Lucky Charms."

That didn't sit, well with Micah. "I want Lucky Charms," she stomped her foot.

"I said, no, Micah." Clarissa walked over to the kitchen area and grabbed another plate from the cupboard.

"I no eat," she hugged herself.

"Then, go hungry," Sam shrugged. "You're not getting anything else."

Clarissa leaned over to whisper, "I usually end up letting her babysitter give her cereal, later."

Sam stared at Clarissa, in surprise. He remembered Dean giving in when he wanted Lucky Charms, as a kid. But, when their father was home, Sam never got away with that. Who was right? Their father or Dean? He wasn't sure at that point.

As the adults ate, Micah remained in the same spot, pouting. Finally, she turned around, not liking being ignored.

"I hungry!"

"Micah Rose Reed," her mother scolded. "Do not yell!"

Sam wanted to point out, why was Clarissa yelling, then. But, wasn't sure.

"I want Lucky Charms!" Micah yelled, even louder and started throwing a tantrum. "I want Lucky Charms! I want Lucky Charms!"

Wanting Micah, quiet, Clarissa set her food on the arm of the loveseat and stood up. "Fine," she gave in.

Out of nowhere, Sam stopped her. "No," he said.

She looked back. "If that what she wants."

Sam shook his head. "My dad never let me get what I want, though." Though, instead of yelling at her like John had done to him, he stood up and kneeled to Micah's level, gently, holding onto her sides. "Micah, look at me," he said, calmly but firm. There were fake tears in her eyes as she yelled for Lucky Charms. "Micah, look at me." He grew firmer. "I know you're not really crying." Sam had known how to manipulate his brother when they were kids and Micah was his kid, after all.

"I want Lucky Charms!" she kept screaming.

"You're not getting Lucky Charms. You can have what I made or nothing at all. That's it. Those are your only options, Micah." Sam was trying, hard not to give in. His own father wouldn't. He couldn't let Micah grow up, thinking she could get what she wanted, in life. He knew from experience, life didn't work out that way.

Micah pushed away from her father. "I want Lucky Charms!" She turned and hurried over to the kitchen. Opening the lower cupboard, Micah used that as a ladder, to climb up and reach the box of cereal sitting on the counter.

Sam stood up and grabbed the box out of her reach. Micah jumped down and pounded on his legs with her small fists. He hated doing this. Why did this have to happen on his first day of being a dad? It took everything Sam had, to place it, on top of the fridge. Micah just wouldn't let up.

Things weren't easy for Clarissa, either. "Sam, I think we should just let Micah have the cereal," she told him.

"No, Micah needs to learn she doesn't have authority. We do." Holy crap. Was he becoming his own father? Sam looked down at his daughter and lifted her, up. "Micah Rose, that's enough. You're not having Lucky Charms and that's final."

Micah actually tried to struggle out of his arms and climb on her father, to reach the box of cereal.

Sam realized it and reached up to set the box on its face, so Micah couldn't see it, and walked over to the bed. Kneeling on the bed, Sam set his daughter, down. "Micah, listen to me," he told her, firmly.

Micah squirmed out his reach and rolled off the bed. "You mean!" she spat at him, angrily. That hurt for Sam to hear. Now, it was even harder to keep this going.

"I'm sorry if it seems like I'm being mean, Micah, but I told you what you can eat. I'm not changing my mind."

She hugged herself and dropped onto the bed, crying into the pillow. Sam tried to reach out for her, but Micah grunted at him and he flinched his hand away.

Over in the kitchen, Clarissa had gotten the cereal, down and was getting a bowl from the cupboard. Sam, quickly, got to his feet and hurried over to stop her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm making Micah, a bowl of cereal," she told him.

Sam grabbed the box away. "I know it's hard, Clarissa. But, you can not give in. No matter how hard it feels. Trust me, I hate this, too."

"I can't stand to see Micah upset like this, Sam," she argued.

"That's why she doesn't listen to you," he argued in return. "Because you give in, to her. She does this because she knows she'll eventually get her way. I gave Micah, two options. She can eat what I made or not at all. That's her choice."

"That's cruel, Sam," Clarissa spat.

"No, it's not. If she gets hungry, later, I can warm up the macaroni and hot dogs, in the microwave. But, she's not getting Lucky Charms." Sam held it out of her reach when Clarissa tried to grab it. "Just watch. Trust me, okay?"

Tears were forming as she heard her daughter still crying.

Sam set the box of cereal on the counter and pulled Clarissa into his arms. "I promise. Things will be okay." Clarissa held onto him, crying in his arms. He remembered, eventually, going to his father, stomach growling, loudly, and asking if he could eat what John or Dean had made.

When it was time for her to leave for work, she changed into her scrubs. Clarissa knelt beside the bed, rubbing Micah's back.

"I'm leaving for work, love. Can I have a hug, goodbye?"

Micah sat up and hugged her mother. "I no want Daddy here, no more. He mean."

"I already cancelled with Stormie, love. I'm sorry. You'll be okay, though."

Her lip stuck out as Micah pouted.

When Clarissa tried to leave, Micah clung to her leg, refusing to let go.

"Micah, love. I have to go to work," she tried to tell her daughter.

But, the little toddler kept shaking her head.

Sam wasn't sure how to help the situation. He watched Clarissa, struggle for a moment. Finally, Sam went over and tried to peel Micah away. "Come on, Mic. Your mom needs to go to work." For a toddler, Micah had a strong grip. With both adults peeling her small hands away, Sam managed to lift Micah into his hands.

Clarissa didn't want to leave her daughter in a distressed state, such as that, but staying would only make it, worse. So, she headed out the door, telling Micah, good night and that she loved her. Micah held her arms out towards her mother, now crying real tears. Sam tried to rock the little girl in his arms, to try and calm her, down. Micah just wanted down at this point. Before he did, Sam went over and made sure to lock both the deadbolt and the latch, towards the top of the door. He, then, set her down which Micah, practically, jumped out of his arms.

She hurried around him and reached up to grasp the doorknob, in both hands, and tried to open it. When Sam knelt to her level, she grunted at him and continued to get the door, open. After a few moments, she slid down the door, onto her legs, her forehead pressed against the crack.

Riot wandered over, licking at the tear streaks pouring down her cheeks. Micah still upset, swung at the dog, who backed up. Riot didn't retaliate, though, to Sam's relief.

Sam rubbed the dog's neck as if to apologize, before turning back to his daughter. "Micah, we don't hit, especially when Riot was only trying to help," he told her.

Micah just grunted at him, again.

So, Sam stood up and led Riot away, to give her time, alone, not knowing what else to do. He went over and sat down on the edge of the loveseat, rubbing his face in his hands as he leaned forward.

"I wish you were here, Dean," he muttered, out loud.

Riot came over, nudging his arm with his nose.

Sam looked down at the dog who gave him, an assuring look and barked. He couldn't help smile and reached out to rub his head. Sam, then, looked over at his daughter. Micah was, now, sitting on her bottom, leaning on her side against the door, as she cried, out loud. Her cries tore at his heartstrings and Sam had no clue what to do. He wondered if he did this, at two, whenever his father left for a hunt and what Dean did. Then again, Sam knew his brother. Micah didn't know him at all. Was stepping in during dinner really worth it?