15 - Hangover
Dean slept almost entirely through fifteen, severely hungover and struggling to consciousness only when the urge to empty his stomach or bladder became too great.
Gus, on the other hand, was a ball of excited little-kid energy, spending most of the morning giggling and wrestling in the dirt with Bobby's big mean Rottweiler. The beast, usually all snarls and growls for strangers, had been transformed into an oversized teddy bear at the hands of the little girl and her tickles and laughs.
Despite the extreme personality shift, neither Bobby nor Sam could blame the dog. After all, Gus was, if their calculations were correct, six-years-old, not to mention cute as a fucking button. Bright and inquisitive and sweet enough to cause cavities.
By lunch, she was five, still smaller than a normal child of that age but seeming a lot happier and healthier than she had on days past, not so skeletally thin. She chattered to Sam about her daddy and her kindergarten class and read every label in sight. It was easy to forget that Gus was actually close to thirty, mostly because she seemed to be forgetting herself.
"Dig in, kiddo," Sam hummed brightly as he placed a hot dog and beans in front of the girl. He was half expecting her to refuse it--like he knew she would if she was in her right mind--but, instead, Gus smiled, squirted ketchup all over the bun and took a big appreciative bite, chomping noisily.
"Thank you, Sammy," she muttered around a mouthful. Swallowing, her blue eyes went wide with maybe shock, maybe horror or fear. She was, for a few moments, lucid and at her proper age of mental development. The girl urgently questioned, "You're tryin' to make me big again, right?"
Sam nodded, sinking into the next seat and stating, "Yeah, me and Bobby are gonna fix you and Dean... so you remember what happened?"
Gus took a moment to think about it before also nodding. "Yeah," she chirped, "Sorta. I used to be big and now I'm back little. And Dean, too."
They didn't say anything else while she finished her hot dog, the girl's too-short feet hanging and swinging over the edge of one of Bobby's rickety chairs. Gus burped quietly, smiled brightly at Sam, and asked, "Can I go play now, please?"
"Sure," Sam agreed with a nod, "Just stay in the yard with Rumsfeld. Bobby and I'll be in the living room if you need anything."
"'Kay," the girl agreed, shuffling carefully to the edge of her seat, stretching her skinny legs until her toes finally touched the floor. She skipped happily back out the kitchen door, her frizzy blonde curls blending seamlessly with the burst of sunlight that followed.
Sam sighed, checked on Dean, and got back to work.
xxxxxxxxxx
A short chapter but a nice distraction for me nonetheless. Ugh. Finals. Review, please :)