A/N: Hey guys, so sorry I haven't update in like months....things have just been really hectic at school with tests and things like that but it looks to be alright until the end of Jan.... lol so yeah I'm so sorry, but i hope this makes up for it!

Thanks to the wonderful Camlann who beta'd this, all remaining mistakes are my own tho! LOL

Also, thanks to MilaMoorea, 9DeanWinchester9, C, and Camlann who keep reviewing! LOl and everyone else who has me on alert.

Right, I have a sound track for this story now LOL! for this chapter you will need the following:

Broken Angel - Hanson

If You Don't Know Me By Now - Simply Red

Say Goodbye - Eva Cassidy (In a Non-Wincesty way) LOL

Okay, so reviews are welcome and encouraged! here's the chapter, how you enjoy

much love

K

xox

A Stubborn Reality

He didn't understand what he was doing at that point in time or more precisely what he was doing there, that much was obvious, even to the most oblivious person. The old house was deserted, a far cry from the six-bedroom house nestled in New York where he had spent the majority of his three short years. As the little boy blinked his eyes awake, gazing around the open room furiously, not really afraid yet, just confused as to why he was there and not in his own bed asleep.

"Momma?" the little voice called out into the eerie sunrise-light that was filtering through the thin closed curtains. "Daddy?" he called out again, untangling his little body from the blanket he was wrapped in. "Are you kissin' Momma again? You not s'posed to, 'member?" Sammy's little feet hit the cold floor and he frowned, his little pouty lips pursing together and his little tanned forehead scrunching up as he looked around him, the cruel realization finally dawning on him that even though this definitely wasn't his house or his bed, his parents didn't seem to be there. Rabbit is here, and so is Blanket, but where's Momma and Daddy? Sammy's bottom lip began to tremble as he reached backwards and clutched onto the rabbit's ear. "Momma? Daddy?" he asked again quietly before yelling one final time, "MOMMA!" Sammy climbed up onto the bed again and huddled against the wall, wrapping himself into his blanket as he bravely fought back tears.

***

"You have to go and speak to him, now." The blonde looked over the book she was reading and at the slightly shaggy haired man with the goatee who was sitting across from her, tossing a knife in his hands.

"Yeah, I know, but what am I supposed to say to him? He's just a kid…"

"Hey, it was your idea to bring him here. I was more than happy to keep watch over him when he was with his parents. We don't need him here I said, but no. 'Bring him here,' you said, 'it'll be fine,' you said, I've got it all sorted—'"

"Why don't you shut the hell up!" he growled, coming to his feet with a liquid grace as he threw the knife at the wall, the metal of the blade sticking into the plaster. "I don't need you of all people telling me how this is supposed to be! This is your fault in the first place!" he bit out, his voice dangerously low.

"My fault? How is this my fault, huh? No one asked you to do this!" she raged, the book flying to the floor in her temper as she, too, stood, facing the man as fire danced in her eyes.

"This whole goddamned mess is your fault, now deal with it!" he barked, arms aggressively flailing through the air.

"This isn't my fucking fault! Why can't you take responsibility for yourself, huh? It's always other people with you, you never make any mistakes—you're too fucking perfect! Grow some balls and be a real man!" she bellowed, eyes falling from the taller man to the child standing in the doorway, clutching the rabbit to him helplessly.

"Hey, little man…" the man swallowed. This is ridiculous.

"Who're you?" Sammy stuttered and sniffed, backing away from the man.

"Now you've done it." the blonde glared as she turned away walking towards the little kitchen area.

"I'm your uncle Sam." Have they ever talked to him about me?

"My Uncle Sam?" Sammy raised his eyebrows confusedly at him.

"Yeah, I'm your dad's little brother." They haven't even mentioned me around him. Shit, I know I screwed up but come on, I wasn't all that bad. We had some good times, and hell, if it wasn't for me—Stay focused on the moment, Sam, he told himself sternly, returning his attention to the little boy staring at him with suspicion. Sam smiled softly as he took a step towards the little boy in front of him, encouraged that the kid had at least stopped moving backwards, even if he wasn't exactly moving forward either.

"You don't look dead, and you not small. I'm small, so you're big. Like really big way bigger than Daddy, and that's reaaaaally big. So you're not little. And you gots hair on your face, a bit like Uncle Bobby, but he gots more, izzat cause you're not old enough yet? My daddy says I'll have hair on my face when I'm big like him." Sammy asked, suddenly curious.

Dead? They told him I was dead? I don't know whether to feel devastated that they told him I was dead, or to be pleased that they told him about me at all.

"I'm not dead!" Sam snapped back, causing his nephew to jump back. "I'm sorry…" Sam trailed off knowing it was no use. "I am old enough, its…the way I like it." Sam muttered under his breath and watched his nephew's face wrinkle in a thoughtful way before he slipped forward again. What is it with my nephew and his dad having to be the same? Honestly.

"So you're my not-dead Uncle Sam?" he asked tilting his head to the side and looking up at Sam.

"Yes." Sam said calmly, watching the little boy for a reaction. He's gonna freak out on me, I just know it. And then what the hell am I supposed to do with him?

"Oh, okay." Sammy shrugged and stepped even closer to Sam, his head tilting way back to look up at him curiously.

That's it? No tears? No tantrums? Nothing? He just accepts it and moves on? Or maybe he's going to use this against me for the rest of his life, sort of a 'you kidnapped me and you weren't dead, I'm going to kill you in your sleep' kind of thing. Oh god. What if he does? Like that freaky kid from that TV show that was on the other night, the one that just went around slitting throats of people she didn't like—what if he does that to me?

"Hey," Sammy's little voice broke into Sam's thoughts and his eyes snapped to his nephew's "My tummy's rumbly since for forever. Can I have my Cheewios now?" he asked with a smile and huge green eyes - eyes that Sam could never deny anything to.

"Okay," Sam nodded, walking to where the blonde was standing, raising an eyebrow at her.

"WAIT!" Sammy shouted, the little patter of his tiny feet running to catch up with Sam's longer strides, small fingers tugging on Sam's pants leg until Sam glanced down at him. "Whose that?" the little boy asked in a stage whisper, gazing up expectantly at Sam.

"That's your Aunt Ruby." Sam smiled down at the little boy who peeked around Sam's long legs at Ruby, who was holding a bowl and a box of Cheerios in her hands.

"Auntie Wuby?" Sammy asked as he stepped out of Sam's shadow and walked slightly closer to the blonde.

"Hey," she smiled brightly at him, "Do you take milk in your cereal?" she asked him as she pulled a chair at the dining table out and patted it for him to come and sit.

"Um, can I gets ice cream, 'stead of Cheewios?" Sammy asked as he pulled himself up onto the chair and leant on the table, fixing an adorable look on Ruby.

"Ice cream for breakfast?" Sam and Ruby asked in unison.

"Uh-huh." Sammy nodded, settling Rabbit lopsidedly on the table beside him as he looked angelically up at them both, massive green orbs shining up at them so hopefully that Sam shrugged and headed for the freezer to take out a tub of ice cream.

"Are you sure we should be giving him ice cream at half-past-nine in the morning, Sam?" Ruby asked as her finger's wrapped around Sam's bicep.

"Sammy, ice cream isn't all that healthy you know…" Sam trailed off and looked at the kid properly.

"So? I wants ice cream…pwease?" Sammy smiled angelically again and Sam opened the door.

"Sam?" Ruby questioned again.

"We have to keep him on our side, I don't want another freak out." Sam grit out quietly and Ruby rolled her eyes, the new hate of having to look after the kid obvious on her features.

"Uncle Sam, are you gonna kiss Wuby now? Momma and Daddy does that all the time. She was fixing up his owies then Daddy was kissin' on Momma—he does that alot." Sammy shook his head as Ruby stifled a laugh at the look on Sam's face. "Where's my momma?" he asked quietly, eyes looking back down to the floor.

Oh. Shit. Should have expected that one now shouldn't I , how do you explain something like this to a kid his age? How do you explain this to anyone let alone a kid?

"Uh, Sammy , you see the thing is… um….."

"There's some bad stuff happening right now, and your momma asked us to look after you here for a little while," Ruby interjected, smiling at Sammy as she effectively cut off what was sure to be a long, rambling explanation that little Sammy was no doubt not going to understand.

"Momma never said nuffin 'bout that—she was fixing Daddy's owies cause him's always gettin' his head banged when he goes away to fight bad guys, and Momma says she's 'prised he has any brains left, and they was coming to watch Shrek with me, but I don't 'member watchin' it, and I woked up here." His face fell as he looked sadly at his rabbit, biting his lip as he swept it off the table and hugged it to his chest.

Before Sam could even begin to reply to the little boy, Ruby walked over to Sammy and crouched down in front of him, obviously still wary of invading his personal space too much.

"I know your momma didn't say anything," she told Sammy, "but she didn't want you to worry or feel sad. It won't be for too long, okay?"

"Okay," Sammy said in a small voice, fingers clutching at Rabbit's ear. "Can I call her?" Ruby looked up at Sam who bit at his bottom lip before finally shrugging.

Christ, this could be more difficult than I thought, a lot more difficult.

"We'll try and give her a call later, okay?" Ruby smiled, and Sammy nodded, appeased for the moment. "In the mean time, why don't you eat your ice-cream, yeah?" Ruby risked it and ruffled Sammy's hair, pulling back quickly when he tensed and ducked out of her way.

"There you go, little man," Sam smiled as he placed the ice-cream down in front of Sammy and handed him a spoon.

This is gonna be awkward, at least until he gets used to us… I'm not planning on letting him go very soon.

Whoever let Sammy have ice cream for breakfast should be shot. In the head. With a high caliber rifle…wait…it was me…shit, Sam thought as he looked around the shambles of the room.

The cushions had long since been sent flying across the room, paper and books had been scattered all over the place, and the knocked-over table and chairs were currently being used as a staging area for Sammy's current game, which Sam didn't even pretend to know what the hell it involved. No one would have believed him if he had told them that his four year old nephew—who was currently screaming, not singing "You Shook Me All Night Long" at the top of his lungs as he played air guitar on his bunny—was giving him a migraine from hell.

Like father like son, huh? Sam had to admit there was a lot of Sammy that was pure Dean: the sarcasm—even for a three year old—and his stoic never-say-anything way of dealing with things, his fascination to take care of other people before himself—well as much as a three-year-old could—the rabbit got more ice cream than he did—and then there was the way he was constantly moving, running, ducking and diving under and around the furniture. But the most annoying thing he took from his father was the way he effortlessly found some way to annoy the hell out of Sam.

But he was like Naomi, too, though, Sam acknowledged. The eyes may have been all Dean, but the a lot of his features were pure Naomi. Her little ski-slope nose and her pouty lips were definitely there in her son's face, and her patience and her grace were something that Sam was grateful that little Sammy had picked up. But, of course, he had to have inherited a mixture of Dean and Naomi's temperaments, wherein Naomi's reasoning always seemed to be overpowered by the dominant hot-headedness that both parents were guilty of.

"Sammy." Sam said on a weary sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not Sammy, how many times have I gotta tell ya! I'm General shortstop…..General Dewek Shortstop from…." he paused a second, standing still on the sofa. "Far away!" Sammy shouted as he jumped from the worn sofa onto the dusty floorboards and behind the over turned table.

"Well, General Shortstop from far away, do you think this is acceptable?" Sam's hand indicated the mess of the room and Sammy peeked around the table.

"Well…Momma's not here so…uh-huh." he shrugged, "Uncle Sam, get down!" Sammy yelled, diving at Sam's legs and pushing until Sam was crouched down beside him.

"Uh, what are we doing down here?" Sam asked, cocking an eyebrow in question as he looked around the empty living room.

"General Meanie is over there, and he wants to eat us!" Sammy pointed frantically in the direction of the door as he tried to drag Sam over and behind the table again.

What. The. Fuck. How the hell am I supposed to do this? I dunno how to look after a kid. Hell, I have no memory of even doing this myself, I wish Dean was here to handle this shit. Hell, he'd probably join right in— Fuck. Why the fuck did I have to think of him? Oh that's right, I'm looking at his son that I took from his house to protect. As if Dean couldn't protect his family--

"You're not listenin', Uncle Sam!"Sammy snapped, giving him the angry stare that only Dean knew how to throw his way. "You don't do it right! You're 'posed to p'tend that you're gonna beat up the bad guy!"

"Look, I don't have time for this—I need it quiet in here so I can think. Clean that shit up and go play in your room," Sam told him sternly as he moved to put the table upright again.

"But I'm not finished!" Sammy pouted, arms crossed over his chest. Damn that kid just had to be able to do that, now I know how Dean felt for all those years I used to throw that at him.

"Why do I gotta clean up?" Sammy asked glaring angrily in Sam's direction.

"Because I said so that's why!" Sam yelled.

"No." Sammy remained adamant. "It's not dark-time yet, and Momma lets me finish first 'fore I clean up. I'm not finished," Sammy insisted, glaring hotly at Sam.

"I don't care what your momma does and doesn't do, Sammy," Sam snapped. "She's not here right now, and she won't ever be again, so you'd better get over the damn attitude and do what I fucking say before I lose my temper!" Sam bellowed, wincing at how loud his voice suddenly seemed in the shell of a room. Lowering his gaze to the clearly frightened little boy, Sam's eyes and tone softened.

Ah, shit. I just swore at my three year old nephew.

"Hey, I'm sorry…" he murmured apologetically, but Sammy flinched as Sam went to touch him, backing away as his lower lip trembled.

Shit! shit! shit! shit! shit!.

"Sammy—" Sam tried again, but the little boy only continued to back up, shying away from him.

"Hey there, Sammy," Ruby said lightly, walking up behind Sam to approach the little boy with a gentle smile at odds with her usual smirk. With one hand on his shoulder, she gently steered Sam out of the way so that she could approach Sammy.

"Go away!" Sammy yelled, trying to sound braver than he actually was. "Momma said you was bad and she'll come and get me, and my daddy's gonna come and beat you up! You'll see!" Sammy tried to back away further, his body hitting the wall instead.

"Hey, we don't wanna hurt you, and you will see your momma again, I promise. But first, I need you to go into your room and play with your toys, while I talk to your Uncle Sam. Could you do that for me?" Ruby asked, slowing backing away from him as he nodded. "Thank you," she whispered as Sammy grabbed for his rabbit and made a beeline for the door, disappearing into his 'room' and slamming the door behind him.

"What the fuck, Sam?" Ruby asked hotly, spinning around to look him in the eye. Sam raised his eyes to her from the spot they seemed to be glued to on the floor, taking one look at hers before looking back down at the floor again, feeling very much like a chastised five-year-old. "Sam…" Ruby's tone softened slightly, "I get that you miss Dean—but this was your choice. Quit taking it out on the kid and grow a pair."

"Ruby, he's so like Dean. I just can't block it out anymore, I have this…this constant reminder now that this is what's going to happen, that Dean is my brother and I can't be with him because of what I had to do." Sam bit down on his lower lip to stop the tears as Ruby stepped closer to him, her hand hesitantly touching his shoulder.

"Sam, it's gonna be alright, things will be okay. Dean's an ass, but I'm sure he'll come around once you tell him the truth…"

"He should know by now! I left him the goddamned letter! Three years ago, I put that letter in the glove compartment of the Impala—he should know, but instead, he's done nothing to stop it and nothing to protect his son." Sam pushed Ruby away and got to his feet, walking over to the window, "It's his own fault that I have him here, you know. If he had just listened to me, then Sammy would still be with him. I shouldn't have been able to walk into that house and take his son, and I shouldn't have been able to get as far as I did without someone noticing."

"Shut up before you say something you're gonna regret—this is gonna be hard enough without having the kid fighting us every step of the way because he overheard you talking shit," Ruby grit out in a hushed whisper. "This was your choice to have Sammy here, so you're gonna have to live with it." Ruby rested her hand on Sam's shoulder; a gentle touch that blazed in contrast to her fiery temper.

"Ruby." Sam said quietly, "I miss my brother. You have no idea—he was everything to me. He gave up his life for me. He was the one who pulled me out of trouble, out of harm's way, he was the one who made sure I didn't go hungry, who cleaned me up after hunts. Hell, he was the one who gave me a pat on the back and let me go to Stanford, taking all the heat from Dad for it. I can't forget him, and I don't want to, I just… I don't wanna completely lose him. Because if something happens to Sammy, I know I'm gonna lose him—that kid means everything to him, I know it. I need to know that he's happy. Dean's never been happy, never allowed himself to be. He always put other people first and I just don't want him to lose someone else. He deserves to be happy." Sam blinked away the tears as he cleared his throat and walked past Ruby and started to straighten the room up, picking up the remaining chairs and starting to put the bits of paper into a pile.

"Sam, I get it I do. You want Dean to have the white picket fence life that he's never wanted, which is great kudos to you. He's got your trust but what the fuck do I have to do to get it huh? I've stood by you for three years Sam, faced death for you, if you cant trust me by now then what the fuck are we doing here huh?" Ruby pushed the chair violently under the table.

"I do…I will. I just need time, and I need to get this place cleaned up," he finished.

Yeah right. Like time is really gonna change a damn thing, Sam thought with a shake of his head.

When did everything go so wrong? How did things get this fucked up? And why couldn't I try and stop it? Sam stood against the doorframe, watching his nephew halfheartedly play with the little green army men. This is so screwed to hell. What is it with this family? It's like we're fucking cursed. Dammit, why can't things just go right for once? Why can't Dean be happy? Why can't he have a normal life? Why can't I have a normal life? Maybe after all this is over, we can finally have our chance at being normal. And happy. No more running, no more hiding…

"Whatchu want?" Sammy asked, breaking into Sam's train-of-thought as he gazed up at his uncle with glowing hatred in his green eyes.

"I came to say I'm sorry," Sam said truthfully, stepping away from the door frame and taking a calculated step into the room. Sammy simply glared at him and turned back to his toys, ignoring Sam's presence once again. "Look, Sammy, I don't expect you to understand—hell, I don't even expect you to try and understand, but you have to stay here."

"Don't want to," Sammy said, still not looking up at his uncle.

"I know. But you'll be safer here."

"NO! I's safe with Momma and Daddy! My daddy's strong, and him's gonna beat you up cause him's better than you! Daddy can keeps me safe!" Sammy jumped to his feet, his little hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Sammy, listen to me—I know your daddy is strong, but he can't keep you safe right now," Sam said evenly, trying to hold onto his temper even as his patience was wearing thin. "And I know you want to go home, but you're gonna have to stay here with me and Ruby so that we can keep you safe. Do you understand?"

"NO!" Sammy screamed, racing over to Sam and hitting him repeatedly on his legs until Sam scooped him up into his arms to stop him from hitting him.

"Hey, that's enough. Look, I know you hate me right now, but one day you're gonna thank me for this!" Sam kept a firm hold of the wriggling child as Sammy simultaneously cried to be put down and screamed how much he hated Sam.

Damn. Is this normal? 'Cause, seriously? This kid is nine kinds of crazy—how the hell do parents deal with this shit? Or is he only doing this because I'm not his parents?

Sammy finally stopped struggling in Sam's grip, his tiny hands coming to rest against the older man's shoulder.

"You alright now?" Sam whispered as he turned his head to face Sammy, one hand coming up to stroke his cheek. "OW!" Sam yelled when Sammy sunk his teeth deep into his hand, before dissolving into pitiful sobs in Sam's arms.

"Ruby!" he yelled and swiftly turned towards the door when she appeared. "Take him," he commanded, practically throwing Sammy into her arms as he stormed out of the house and left Ruby to calm the hysterical three-year-old. I have got to get out of here.

Fuck. What am I supposed to do now?! He'll never trust me and God knows he'll be here long enough. I should have known bringing him out here was a bad idea. Ruby told me it would be. I know it would be. I guess I ignored the warnings and let my feelings take over.

"My daddy's strong, and him's gonna beat you up cause him's better than you! Daddy can keeps me safe!!

Sammy's words bounced around Sam's empty head, each echo getting louder than the last. And hell if he isn't right—Dean is better than me, I know that. And how bad are things when even a three-year-old knows that? Why the fuck did I bring this kid here? I don't know shit about taking care of a kid, much less Dean's offspring, who if he's not destroying the room is screaming his head off. I don't have a fucking clue how to deal with this. Hell, this was Dean's forte, always was. Shit. I should take him back and let Dean take care of this…But letting Dean take care of it is what got us to this in the first place, Sam thought angrily. If he had just fucking listened to me when I tried to warn him, it wouldn't have gotten this bad. I know it wouldn't have.

Why the hell does everything always come back to Dean?

Standing outside the front door, Sam glanced down at his watch: seven-thirty. He had been gone most of the day, just trying to get things sorted in his head, trying to remind himself that bringing Sammy here in the first place was still a good idea. He was under no illusions now that Dean would indeed come looking for his son. Maybe I'm handling this all wrong…maybe I should set something up, meet Dean somewhere. Somewhere that's not here. Somewhere where Dean can't come back and destroy everything out of spite and rage. Because that's who Dean was, Sam knew. Maybe it's no longer how he is, though…Sam pondered, wincing as he accidentally closed his fingers around the door handle with the hand that still bore painful teeth marks, courtesy of his one and only nephew.

"Sammy, it's time for you to go to bed," he heard Ruby tell the little boy as she let out a weary sigh.

"NO, is not time for bed!" Sammy yelled hotly, and Sam shook his head, beginning to reconsider his decision to return to the house this early in the evening even as he made his way towards the bedroom.

"Yes, it is," Ruby bit out coldly, and Sam offered her a sympathetic smile.

"You're not the boss of me!" Sammy got to his feet on the mattress, once again balling his fists as he stood against Ruby.

"I am now," she snapped and Sam winced at her tone, come on Ruby, we gotta keep at least one of us on his good side.

"No! I want my momma! I want my momma!" Sammy screamed furiously , pushing away from Ruby who had tried to take him into her arms. "MOMMA!" he yelled and Sam let out a sigh as he walked over to the bed and sat down heavily.

"Ruby," Sam began, only to back up slightly when the blonde-haired hellion turned to face him with a pissed off expression.

"You know, considering what I am, I've been pretty damn patient with this kid, but I've had enough—you deal with this, or I'm gonna have to teach the kid a few things about pissing off a dem—"

"I got it," Sam told her loudly, cutting off her before she could reveal more than the kid was capable of handling. He stepped aside as she stormed past him and walked down the hall, slamming the door of their bedroom behind her.

"Sammy, please," Sam said, turning to face the teary-eyed three-year-old, "just go to sleep."

"NO! I want my momma!" Sammy angrily spat, backing up from Sam.

"How about I read you a story?" Sam tried, looking over at the little bookshelf he had made himself.

"No, Momma always reads me story." Sammy's bottom lip trembled, anger finally becoming too much for the little boy.

"I know. But I was thinking, she would probably want me to read to you since she isn't here, don't you think so?" Sam smiled softly at him as he watched the youngster slide down the wall, arms wrapped around his body in a fashion that Sam could only fathom was supposed to be his arms crossed.

"No." Sammy answered simply, half-heartedly glaring at Sam.

"I asked for that one, didn't I?" Sam muttered to himself, resisting the urge to drag his hand through his hair.

"Does Momma not want me no more? She not love me no more?" Sammy asked suddenly with such a heartbreaking look on his face that Sam swallowed hard to try and stop the tears.

"No, little man, your momma loves you so much—don't ever think she doesn't. That's why she sent you here, so you could be safe. I know you don't understand this now but this is for your own good. I promise to try and not be such a jerk to you anymore. It's just, I don't know how to deal with kids—that was always more your dad's thing than mine. Truth is, I don't know what the hell I'm doing half the time, so how about you give your uncle a break, huh?" Sam told him softly, pouring his heart out to the little boy in a vain attempt at making him understand.

"You never had a Sammy before?" Sammy asked, confusion etched on his face but seemingly content with Sam's explanation. "but I thought you was a Sammy?"

"I am a Sammy," Sam chuckled, "But, I don't remember being your age. And I haven't had experience with anyone your age for a long time," he confessed, and Sammy raised an eyebrow at him, in a way so similar to Dean that Sam both did a double take.

"You must have a shit memory." Sammy decided eventually.

"Sammy, you shouldn't say that," Sam said mildly, fighting back a smile at the serious expression on the little boy's face. "Your mom would tear both of us a new one if she finds out I let you use that sort of language."

"It's alright—Daddy says it all the time." Sammy promised, a mischievous smile suddenly emerging on his features that had Sam rolling his eyes heavenward and begging for some strength. "Don' worry, Uncle Sam, I not tell Momma," he assured Sam with an emphatic nod.

"Nice try, dude, but no deal. It's not a nice word and from now on, you're not allowed to use it," Sam said firmly, and Sammy let out a huff.

"Momma always says that—you suck out loud" he pouted, obviously parroting a much-loved phrase of his father's, something that Dean would no doubt get a kick out of if he knew.

"Yes, well, moms know best," Sam told him. Nevermind that I wouldn't know. Shaking away the unhappy thought, he smiled, ruffling the three-year-old's unruly hair as Sammy finally relented.

"Fine. Dog."

"What did you call me?!" Sam asked as his eyebrows shot into his hair line.

"Just dog." Sammy said, relishing in the look he was getting from Sam.

"What?" Sam asked again, fighting to keep the smile off of his face when Sammy started to giggle.

"Dog's my book, silly. Just Dog!" Sammy got out between giggles.

"Um…." Sam walked over to the bookshelf and flicked through the few books they'd scrounged up before bringing Sammy here. "I'm sorry, Sammy—I'm afraid we don't have that one, kiddo," he said regretfully, waiting for another tantrum from the volatile three-year-old.

"You sure you don't gots it?" Sammy pouted again, before chewing on his lip as he thought.

"I'm sure," Sam nodded and Sammy stood up tring to stifle a yawn.

"Well, could you go gets it, its not far….its only in the store. I'll be good! I wont even sing daddy's songs." Sammy promised, "And I'll stay in bed." he tried to sweeten the deal, rushing over to his bed and climbing up onto it.

"Sorry kiddo, no can do." Sammy smiled apologetically and Sammy rolled his eyes.

"What books do ya got, then?" he asked pulling back the covers properly.

"Um… The Lion King, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, The Jungle—"

"Thems for girls," Sammy told him, his voice dripping with all the disdain a small boy could muster. "Don't wanna read girl books." Sammy raised his eyebrows at Sam and shook his head before snuggling under the covers. "Do you knows the story of the two little boys who fought the bad guys?" Sammy asked as he sat up in bed. "Daddy tells me that all the time."

"The one where there's a little boy and a bigger boy? And they're brothers, and their father is an FBI secret agent?" Sam asked on a smile, walking back over the bed and sitting down.

Know it? How can I forget it, Dean's own little way of making sure I knew how to kill different bad guys.

"Yeah, Uncle Sam, you got it!" Sammy said excitedly, jumping out from under the covers, "Tell me it!" he beamed up at Sam, who nodded.

"Your Daddy used to tell me that one when I was your age—did you know that?" Sammy shook his head, his face full of wonder as Sam shifted, bringing his legs up onto the bed so he could recline next to his nephew. "What was the last one he told you?" Sam sat with his back against the wall and his eyes widened when little Sammy curled up against him.

"Um… the one with the werewolf. You sure you member, Uncle Sam? Cause you don't member bein' little, and you gots a shit memory," Sammy asked, leaning back to look up at Sam with a worried gaze.

Sam knew he should have scolded the little boy for cursing but the warm weight pressing against his thigh made him decide otherwise.

"Yeah, Sammy, I remember. It was a dark, cold November night…"

"Is the kid asleep?" Ruby asked from her stance at the window, not deigning to turn around as she peered out into the night.

"Yeah. You know, for a big, bad demon, it's pretty damn sad that you were brought down by a mere three-year-old," Sam told her playfully, walking up behind her and pulling her to him with a grin.

"Yeah, well, you weren't shut up in the house with him all day. No, instead, you fucking left me here to deal with the fall-out of your shit-decision to bring a scared, pissed off kid here. Asshole. And where the hell were you all day, anyway?" Ruby asked, curiosity apparently getting the better of her as she leaned into his embrace.

"I just went for a walk." Sam said honestly, walking them backwards to the sofa, never letting go of her as he dropped onto it and settle with his back against the arm rest.

"You were gone for like seven hours, Sam. You just walked for seven hours?" Ruby turned to face him, and Sam shrugged and nodded.

"Pretty much. Stopped for a bit to try and wrap my head around things." He shrugged again as Ruby let out a small breath, dropping her head back against his chest when he reclined them further.

"Did it work?" she asked almost absently as her fingers moved in slow, soft circles on his chest.

"Not really. I dunno. Maybe," he whispered, not really knowing how to answer, but not really sure he even wanted to. Not right now anyway. He locked his gaze onto the ceiling, Sam whispered, eyes stuck on the ceiling as he felt the familiar pang of guilt he always felt whenever he pushed her away.

Ruby simply smiled up at him before placing a soft kiss on his lips, moving to lye directly on top of him when he deepened the kiss and his fingers tangled in her long blonde locks. "Sam." Ruby whispered when Sam's lips trailed down to her jaw and her neck. "You know, I'm all for corrupting the innocent, but I think Dean would be pissed if his kid walked in on us having hot, dirty sex in the living room," she told him, gasping when he sucked on her pulse point.

Sam offered her a grunt in return as he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, careful not to make noise as he passed Sammy's room even as he kissed Ruby again, kissing her again without stopping as he navigated his way through to the bedroom.

"There's still a three-year-old in the next room, Sam, and the walls are thin," she pointed out, a smirk on her face as she stared up at him with a hint of challenge in her eyes.

"What's your point?" Sam demanded, his breath warm on her face.

"You're right—what the hell," she said carelessly, her hands reaching for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head impatiently. "I can be quiet if you can," she told him, grinning as he dug his fingers into her hair.

"You talk too much," Sam whispered against her lips before claiming them in a passionate kiss. Ruby sighed against his lips as she allowed herself to surrender to him. Like she always did. Ruby always listens. Sam thought as he kissed her deeply. At lease someone does.