A/N: Again, thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! So, yesterday my BRAND SPANKING NEW SHINY PRE-SERIES COMIC came from eBay, and let me tell y'all, it's fantabulous! There's a really sweet story at the end involving Dean promising to teach Sam how to swim and a Wee!Chester hug! Plus, it's an OFFICIAL PRODUCT! (squees like the obsessive Fangirl she is) Ahem.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. But I will if Kripke doesn't bring Sam back godammit! I will march on his home!

Enjoy!

Saving Grace

3.

Butcher, baker or candlestick maker (part 2)

The swing was rusty, and made a loud screeching noise as the joints strained, but Sam didn't really mind. He loved to swing. The long, slow sway up to the peak, when he kicked his legs in excitement and his stomach did a little whoop before he plummeted back down again. Before he could swing too far back he would feel Dean's hands on his back, pushing him forwards not too hard and not too soft. The wind rippled his t-shirt and tossed his hair, and he found himself grinning so widely his face felt like it would split in two.

After a couple of minutes, something bright across the other side of the playground caught his eyes. Looking over, he saw a small boy about his age pushing an apple-red bicycle along the tarmac path. Sam stared with open fascination. It had dark, unscuffed tyres and a gleaming silver bell attached to the handlebars. The dream present for any five year old boy.

The boy's father came trotting along in his wake, a long length of chain dangling from his hand and a bag on his back. Sam watched as the father chained and padlocked the bike to the railings, making sure it was secure, before retrieving a baseball bat and ball from the bag and taking his son's hand, leading him across the grass to a small baseball field which had been set up in a corner.

Once they were out of sight, Sam glanced over his shoulder at his brother.

"Dean, let me down."

Dean clasped his little brother on either side of his waist when he swung back, then carefully lowered the swing "You had enough?"

Sam eyed the bicycle hungrily, and shot Dean a mischievous half-smile "Sorta." He leapt lightly off the swing, grabbed Dean's wrist and lead them both across the playground towards the railings, eyes saucer-wide and intent.

"Sam? Where we going?" Dean asked, and faltered in his step when he noticed where they were headed. He eyed the bike, then looked down at Sam with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Sa-mmy…" He said, half in warning, half in longing. The sun was setting now, spilling a brilliant swathe of pinks and reds and yellows across the cloudy sky, casting long shadows which seemed to creep towards them. They stopped just beside the bike, and stood for a moment, silently admiring it.

"Can we…" Sam swallowed, and looked uncertainly up at his brother "Can I try riding that bike, please?"

He was going to ride it, that he knew. He just had to, because he wanted to, and just this once, he would get what he wanted. But he wanted Dean to be okay with it first. He didn't want to upset Dean.

"Sammy, that bike's not ours." Dean said, far more gently than necessary, and Sam wondered if he had done something wrong already "That boy will be back for it soon. Besides, it's padlocked to the railings."

It didn't matter. It wasn't fair; why did that stupid boy have a bike when he didn't? Oh, he wanted to ride it so much. Besides, he'd only borrow it awhile. Yeah. Sam quashed the twist of guilt in his stomach, and his face split into a grin.

"Got a paper clip?" Dean's jaw dropped, and Sam grinned wider, pleased with this reaction. Dean shook his head with disbelief, and glanced about the park, wary. Finally, he sighed resignedly, and fumbled in his pocket.

"It's at times like this I can actually believe we're related." He muttered exasperatedly, but Sam could hear he was pleased, too "Eh, screw it. Here. Up and at 'em, Houdini."

Sam snatched the paperclip eagerly, leant and down and began working at the lock. He teased the pointed end in gently, and laid his ear against the cold metal, listening, feeling for the pattern inside. Up. A ridge. No, two. Slight dip. Long sheer edge. Another ridge.

Sam gave a little gasp as the lock gave way, freeing the magnificent bike from its chains and making it no longer a thing only to see but also to touch. Suddenly, he felt overwhelmed, and glanced nervously up at Dean, who looked taken aback and slightly impressed.

"You're scarily good at this kind of thing, you know, Sammy?" He frowned, noticing his little brother's hesitant expression "What's the matter? Hop on. I'll keep look out."

Sam swallowed thickly, feeling a lump rise in his throat and a leaden feeling fill the pit of his stomach. The exhaustion of the day and the cool of the oncoming evening air made him feel drained, but not even that could completely sap his energy. A terrible revelation had occurred to him.

"I can't." He muttered miserably, and Dean rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Sammy, a morality trip after you've nicked somebody's possessions isn't exactly the most convenient-"

"No, I mean I can't. I don't know how."

Dean was about as oblivious as a blind priest in a strippers bar, and ploughed thoughtlessly on "What do you mean you don't kno-" He stopped dead, eying Sam's melancholy expression as he realised his brother's dilemma "Oh. Right." He finished, a little lamely.

Dean had been four years old exactly when he had first learned to ride a bike. He could still remember it, just about. In his mind's eyes he saw the gleaming polish of a bright yellow tricycle below him, Dad's beaming face, a large hand on his back pushing him gently while his feet worked against awkward pedals. At the end of the driveway huge brown eyes watched him in fascination, mouth slightly open and chubby cheeks rosy with the cold of March frost. Mom, face glowing with pride, applauding him as he trundled round and round in circles.

A world away from here. A time when play was toys and games and giggles, not learning to fight and pick locks and hold a gun.

"Dean?" Those same huge brown eyes, darker now, older, and a little face still recognisable as that of a child "Could you teach me?"

"Sammy, it's late."

"Please?" Sammy pleaded, quietly, giving him the heartbroken 'I'm your baby brother' look which Dean could never refuse. Don't give in don't give in oh no not the lip quibble uh oh don't give in don't give in-

"Hell." Dean exclaimed, throwing his arms up in defeat "Fine. Whatever." Sam beamed, smiling that milk-toothed smile which banished Dean's demons "But make it quick, we've gotta get back."

"Okay."

They worked together, getting the bike upright with some difficulty, and Dean was unhappy to find that the thing had no stabilisers. Great. Fantastic. If Sammy fell off and scraped something Dad would kill him.

"Right, first, get up onto the saddle. Here." It was a struggle; but Dean felt oddly content, lifting his little brother up till he was settled on the saddle, his scuffed feet barely brushing the ground "Alright, now put your hands on the handlebars, nice and tight. You got them?"

Dean eyed the handlebars for a moment, his own hands atop Sammy's, and was suddenly acutely aware of just how much smaller they were from his. He could barely see the edges of Sam's pink fingers behind the breadth of his own palms. He drew back. He forgot, sometimes, that Sam was only four. Somehow, he seemed so much older.

"Feet on the pedals. Well, one on the pedal, one on the ground." Dean instructed, and Sam complied, biting his lip and frowning in concentration. He was very wobbly. The bike was awkward for him, the saddle too high for his legs. Still, Dean couldn't bear to tell him no. Sam so wanted this. Dean understood.

"Now…uh…hm." Sam sat up straight, and looked expectantly at Dean, apprehensive yet obviously excited too "Just…push forwards, keep your balance and pedal." Dean slowly let go of the handlebar, feeling a mixture of worry and pride and something he couldn't define course through him "And be…you know…careful."

Sam nodded, gritted his teeth and pushed off with some difficulty. Dean hovered beside him anxiously, wincing at the squeal of oiled metal and the ominous crunch of tyre on gravel.

After a couple of seconds the bike teetered, then plummeted to the ground. Dean dived, caught Sammy around the waist and pulled him back just before the bike landed on top of his little brother. His heart beat painfully fast. Close call.

"Dean." Sam said a little irritably, and Dean looked down to find he was holding Sam so tightly to his stomach that his brother's feet were suspended above the ground. He hastily cleared his throat and lowered Sam gently, eying him for scratches or tears.

"You okay? Maybe we should just-"

"No!" Sam exclaimed firmly, to Dean's surprise "I can do it. I know I can do it."

Dean looked at him. Sammy wasn't angry, wasn't even particularly frustrated, just determined. His dark eyes danced with the thrill of the challenge as he reverently picked the bike up again and scrambled on, this time without assistance. Dean watched, and felt a lump rise in his throat inexplicably.

He watched as Sam tried time and again, and this time Dean let him fall, stood back while Sam pulled himself up and tried again, and again, every time he fell. He didn't lose his resolve, he didn't cry or scream or throw a tantrum like most other children would have by this point. He just kept on trying.

Sammy was growing up. And there was nothing Dean could do about it.

"Tell you what." He said hastily, after the sixth time Sammy had fallen hard to the ground and he couldn't stand the sight of grazed knees any longer "I'll hold you up while you get used to pedalling."

Sam considered his suggestion, a sceptical and defensive look on his face. Dean sighed and walked over to him, helped him get back up onto the saddle.

"Look, I know you want to do it yourself, but everybody needs help every now and then."

Suddenly, Sam's face broke into a grin and he nodded enthusiastically "Thanks, Dean!"

"Just…don't go too fast, okay? Take it slow." Dean wasn't sure he was talking about riding a bike anymore.

He wrapped his fingers around the back collar of Sam's pullover, keeping a firm grip, and put his other hand on the right handlebar to keep the bike steady. They shared a look, and Sammy started pedalling, Dean trotting a little to keep up with the bike. Slowly, they gained speed, and Sammy sat up straighter, a wide, toothy smile filling his face and making Dean feel stupidly good about life.

"Look, Dean, I'm doing it!" he exclaimed breathlessly, and Dean grinned proudly at him.

"You sure are, kiddo. Okay, I'm gonna let go now, you ready?"

Sam shot him a shocked and slightly frightened look, and almost stopped pedalling, suddenly unsure of himself.

"Dean, I'm-"

Dean looked him in the eye.

"You can do it." He said, firmly, without a trace of doubt. Sam hesitated, then nodded grimly and tensed, turning his eyes upon the path ahead, determined.

"Okay." Dean warned him, and let go of the handlebars first, his left hand the only thing still holding onto his little brother "Three, two, one…" He gave Sam one last encouraging push, and released his grip "Go!"

He ran alongside Sam as his brother continued to pedal furiously, this time without wobbling. He veered a little from side to side, but managed to regain control with ease. They grinned at each other, racing alongside one another for a while, before they reached a dangerous curve in the path and Dean reached out, grabbed the bike and pulled it to halt.

"Sammy, that was awesome! It took me ages to get that steady. You learn really fast."

Sam brushed his hair from his face, his cheeks flushed with exertion and eyes gleaming with excitement and pride.

"Nah, it's easy when you showed me how to do it, Dean." He wriggled his way off the bike, and they turned it about and began to wheel it back the way they came, Dean holding the left handlebar and Sam the right.

"Thanks. I couldn't have done it without you." Sammy said a little shyly, and Dean lifted his shoulder in an uncomfortable half-shrug, feigning indifference. Inside, though, he was just as exhilarated as Sammy.

"Yeah, well…you're welcome. I guess. I mean…yeah." He looked hastily elsewhere, and cleared his throat. If he had looked down at his brother, he would have seen Sammy give him a fond and very wise look, like he understood.

They walked in silence back to the railings, and Dean helped Sam padlock the bike up again. Hopefully, the little boy and his father would return to find the bike seemingly untouched, if a little more dusty than before. For a moment, they stood together, eying the magnificent ride with a shared affection.

"Come on, let's get back." Dean muttered, and they turned, heading towards the park gate, the horror of Miss Clancy and tears forgotten in their mutual success. Sammy skipped a little as they walked to keep up with Dean's longer strides.

The sun had set almost completely now, and the world was growing steadily darker. Sam huddled close to Dean, shivering a little, as the residual heat of the day faded. But they weren't afraid of the dark. Well, Dean wasn't, anyway. Because he knew what was out there, and if it came for them, he would know what to do.

There came a gentle tug on his sleeve, and he glanced down at Sam's pensive face "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

Sam bit at his knuckles, still clutching Dean's sleeve. Dean let him and waited "Do you think, if we ask Dad, we could get a bike for ourselves?"

Dean drew a deep breath in, then let it out, slowly, his mind blank. He hated this. If he could, he would give Sam the world. But he couldn't. It was all he could do to feed Sam and clothe him and wipe his tears away when he cried, laugh with him, tried to do what Mom would have done. He was only human, Dad was only a man, and they were never meant to have a normal life. It was worse for Sam; Sam had never really known that life, and Dean felt guilty for his four years of sinful contentment.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Sam. It'd be a lot to lug around, y'know? Besides, when would we have time to ride it properly?"

Sam sighed and his shoulders slumped, but he nodded, slowly releasing his brother's sleeve. They had reached the park gate now, and passed quietly into the darkening streets, leaving the fantasy of green grass and sunlight and shared good times behind them. It was just a moment, really. Just a taste of the life that could have been.

"It's not fair." Sam said, and for the first time that day sounded his age "That we can't have stuff like that. Y'know. Normal stuff."

Dean shook his head and clapped his hand against Sam's shoulder, forcing a grin onto his aching face.

"Normal's boring. Besides…" it wasn't all bad, really. "you've got to take what you can get and smile, Sammy." Sam gazed at him intently, drinking in his words "Otherwise, there wouldn't be a single damn happy person on this crappy planet."

A streetlight flickered and died above them, and he heard Sam give a little huffy sigh. After a moment, Sam spoke:

"But Dean…I didn't have to take you. You were just there." Dean stared at him, marvelling at the simple yet wonderful logic of a child "And…I'm happy." His little brother smile the smile he only ever smiled for Dean, and tucked his small hand into Dean's larger one "I'm very happy."

Dean swallowed thickly, and didn't tighten his hold on Sam's hand, but didn't pull away either.

"I'm glad." He said, gruffly. It was all he could think of to say. Yet, somehow, he knew that Sammy understood. Sammy always did. He felt a light nudge in his side, and looked back at Sam, who was looking nervously up at him.

"Does that mean you're happy too?" He asked, seriously, and Dean blinked in surprise. It was an odd question. One not usually asked, not spoken aloud, because most people were afraid of the answer.

Dean reached deep inside himself. Was he happy?

"I suppose." Which, in Dean speak, meant Yes, very. Sammy searched his brother's face, then grinned, and did a little joyful jump and twirled on his heel.

"I'm glad." He said sincerely, and Dean felt the sudden need to break this suffocating weight of raw emotion that was weighing him down.

"C'mon, Captain Sappypants, I betcha I can beat you to the- " Sammy immediately took off at high speed, laughing over his shoulder "HEY! NO FAIR! SAMMY!"

He tore after his little brother, fast gaining, but let Sam keep the lead for a little while so he could think. He would keep on going. So long as Sammy kept smiling, that was enough for him.

Sammy gave a little shriek when Dean caught him, grabbing his brother around the waist and swinging him round in a circle before depositing him back on the pavement. He put his hands on his hips and grinned in triumph.

"And I win!" He struck an over the top victory pose, and Sammy giggled, dancing from foot to foot.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we get a skateboard instead?"

Uh oh…

&&&&&&&

A/N: ATTENTION! Ok guys! I need some help from y'all: I've got several half-completed chapters and I need to know what order you want them all in. So, cast your votes! The candidates are:

A very Wee!chester story set just before the fire (with Mary and John)

Another very Wee!chester story set a couple of weeks after the fire

There are also two other Wee!chester snippets from my other SPN story, Telegraph Road, which I could post if anyone is interested. One involves the night of the fire from Sam's POV and another involves a sick and feverish Dean, aged nine (I'll bet Deangirl's will like that one!

Also, I thought I'd let you all know the line-up of other ideas, which are a mix of my own ideas and all of yours! Take a look:

'Two little boys and the big bad men' Sam and Dean face off against the dreaded social worker visit

'The importance of being Sammy (as opposed to Sam)' AKA the musings of a chubby 12 year old

'When it rains, it pours' As requested, Sammy has a sick day! Much worry and angst for John and Dean.

'Felling Goliath' Sam and Dean deal with some troublesome bullies, Winchester style!

'Swings and roundabouts' After Dean's so-called friendsplay a nasty trick on Sam, he has to hurry to save his little brother before it's too late (that's all I'm saying! This is one of my favourites!)

'Breaking the habit' As requested, the morning routine of the Winchester boys, involving much toothpaste and banter!

'Crash and burn' (Another requested, involving a car crash!) Dean thought Sammy would be safer locked in the car. He was wrong.

'Be a man' An awesome suggested idea, in which John teaches Dean to shave and Dean teaches Sam!

Whoops, sorry about the length, I'll shut up now! Thanks to y'all for reading, and please review to let me know what order you want the chapters in!