SURPRISE. I hadn't planned on getting a chapter up today, but this idea came to me at work tonight and I just couldn't stop. Granted it's not very long, but hey, it's something, am I right? And it's not SUPER detailed, because it's what just came to me, but like I said. It's something :)

I hope you guys like it!

Thanks to all of you new Favorites and Follows. You're the absolute best. And your love for the story blows my mind. I cannot express my gratitude enough! Extra thanks to all you reviewers! And especially miss Jenmm31 for helping me as always. I owe you so much, lady!

Be sure to PM any requests you have for chapters! Thanks!

UPDATE!
Shout out to SPNxBookworm for being an absolute doll! There was a glitch with the upload and the chapter DOUBLED within itself. Whew. Close one. So sorry if you got to the story before I could fix it! A million apologies! Thanks, doll face!

READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)

Disclaimer.


Staking Claim

Ages:
Dean - 10
Sam/Becca - 6

Year:
1989; Early Winter

3rd Person POV

Sighing, Dean dropped the metal pan onto the stove top as he bent to close the squeaky tan door of the oven. The unintentional slam of the metal against the rubber seal caused him to grimace. Waving a fraying hand towel over the steam that rose from the rectangles that lay in sporadic lines of fried food, he huffed out an annoyed groan and took in the smell of fish as it swirled through the air to meet his nose. It churned his stomach. Grabbing a few paper plates from the stack that stood erect on the counter, the boy bent his head and used a metal fork to flip each stick – curious if he'd managed to not burn any this time. Crumbs of breading stuck and bounced around the cooling sticks, each a golden brown rather than darkened black. Prideful of his endeavor, a satisfied smirk crossed his young face and he turned to face his younger siblings, a gleam in his eye. Opening his mouth to call them to see his achievement – seeing as they had been the ones to complain last time – his lips parted when he saw a paper fall to the ground with an elegant grace. Clamping his lips shut once more, his brown knitted over his eyes as he threw the old towel towards the sink, completely forgetting the perfectly baked dinner.

Stepping lightly to the table, he looked over the shoulder of his sister, his shadow creating a shade of darkness over her bright blue marker strokes that dragged back and forth. Leaning to the side, the floor whined beneath his weight. His eyes hung on the picture, taking in the lines and edges before they fully recognized it for what it was. His body went cold and a fear washed through him before his heart raced and cause his blood to boil immediately. "Becca, what are you doing?!" Dean's voice bellowed from behind his sister. Her small body hardly seemed to acknowledge his presence. She slowed her coloring and looked at the paper in front of her. The half filled outline stared up at her, the eyes sloppily shaded yellow and creating a bright hue of green around the lines.

"I'm coloring," she shrugged, pressing the tip of her marker back to the paper. Ink from her opposite hand rubbed off on the edges as the weight held the coloring in place. Recapping the marker and placing it in the middle, she reached forward for a darker shade and settled onto her knees for a better leverage.

Sam's head lifted up from where he sat across from where his twin hardly acknowledged their older brother. Scanning the area around him, he couldn't understand the upset that had caused Dean to freak out and scare Sam out of his skin. His eyes landed on his sister and dropped from the top of her head where her pony tail was tight to the curve of her skull, down to where her nose pointed mere inches above what she considered to be her latest masterpiece. Pulling himself up so he could lean across the table, Sam looked closer at the drawing and gasped. "Not that one, Becca!" he screeched, yanking the marker from her hand immediately.

Becca's face knotted into one of confusion. Glancing from where the marker had left brown streaks along her palm, she looked at the artwork in front of her. "You said I could!" she argued to her twin as she looked up at him to see he was shaking his head back and forth quickly.

Gathering up as many pages as he could off of the table, Dean panicked as he shoved the markers back into their plastic bag. "What did you guys do?" Turning to his brother after hearing his sister's blame, Dean's anger continued lap at the area around them, almost suffocating the air with it. His skin felt warm as the emotion spread in his body, clouding his thoughts to the point that all he heard was his father's voice in his ears and the sting of the words he would undoubtedly have to face. Along with possibly more. "Why'd you tell her she could color on that?"

"I didn't!" Sam defended, pain and shock in his eyes when Dean rounded on him. Sinking back into the wooden chair, Sam set his feet on the ground and pushed the seat up against the wall in a search to put distance between the look on his brother's face and his own body. His eyes shot to his twin's and he saw her green orbs go round and then narrow.

Becca's voice was like waves over rocks and it came rushing out of her. "Uh huh! You said that Dean said that we could color these!" she argued, her hand going to the pile that sat on the table's middle. Her body was facing her eldest sibling, ready to go up against anything he'd say. They made sure to ask this time. He was wrong for yelling at them.

Moving quickly, Dean snatched up the papers, horror crossing his face. The stack was a mix of both blank and printed papers – an easy mistake he realized he had made. Replaying the quick conversation in his mind, he cursed himself for blowing off their question while he worked on making sure the temperature on the stove was just right. "Dad is gonna be so pissed. How many did you color?" he snarled, his fingers flipping between the now brightly colored outlines of what had been menacing werewolves. Somehow they seemed to lose some of the terror when they were the color of pumpkins and frogs. Only a few were still blank, making his heart a little hopeful. Maybe it could be still work out and be okay.

Grumbling, Becca leaned back in her chair, picking at the ink that covered her hands. "I only colored the ones that were blank." Shooting her eyes up to Dean's, she made sure he got her face of attitude before flicking them back and forth between her hands and his face.

Dean glared at her. Her cockiness and lack of concern ate at his ego. He found himself thinking that he shouldn't have to be the one to specify each detail. They were old enough to learn to listen and understand. He was at that age. "You should know better than to color on Dad's stuff!" his voice was hard and dripped with a harsh venom that stung at his siblings' pride. Sam slowly began to clean up the rest of the mess, not wanting to have any other reason for Dean to attack him.

"You said we could!" Becca yelled back, closing her small fist around itself as she glared at the papers still in Dean's hands. "Sam asked you, you know. You said we could go ahead. You said we could."

Throwing the papers onto the table with a slam and then bending over them and getting in their faces, Dean's head turned back and forth between his siblings. "I said you could color, and I gave you papers. I didn't give you these."

Sam cleared his throat. "Those are the papers you gave us," he told Dean, nodding his head. When no one questioned him, Sam got up and went to the middle of the room where a small pile of papers were sitting on the arm of the couch. "You were making dinner and I asked if we could color. And you said we could use the papers that were on the couch. I didn't take them all, only most of them."

Walking to where his younger brother stood, Dean looked through the papers that remained on the poorly cushioned piece of furniture. His eyes widened when he saw that the coloring pages had been intermixed with papers from the case that his father was just getting information on. "You mixed them up!" he shouted. "Damn it, Sam! Do you see what you did!?"

Sam's lip trembled as Dean yelled at him. He hadn't meant to mix the papers up. They'd been all over the place. Some had even been lying on the floor and under the couch before he picked them out. He thought he was helping Dean clean. He hadn't meant to get anyone in trouble. Sam's heart squeezed in his chest as the thought of his father being angry at him flowed through his mind. He'd just gathered them up and put them all on the big table together. That was all. It was an accident. "I didn't mean it. I was just trying to help."

"Why didn't you look? You know better than that. Dad's gonna whoop you good this time. You messed up big, Sammy." The realization of what his brother was saying hit him, and Sam's eyes watered. Tears began to drip down his small cheeks as Dean continued yelling about how much trouble the small boy would be in. Standing quietly, the small chirps of sobs came from his chest while Dean continued to yell, his arms flying in the air and his cheeks turned a faint purple. He seemed oblivious to the effect it was having on Sam, continuing until his sister's voice interrupted him.

"Don't you yell at Sam!" Becca shouted, leaping up and charging her brother. Trying to catch her before she could run into him, Dean froze when her small fist collided with his stomach. Becca's angered face glared up at him from where she stood less than a foot away. Her hands were clenched and shaking as they hung by her side. Neither of them had seen her angry enough to physically attack. At least not to that extent. Sam wiped the fallen tears from his cheeks and sniffed back a sob.

"It s'okay, Becca," he slurred, the guilt of what had happen seeming to plateau. His large eyes stared at his feet as his toes curled and dug deeper into the floor. "I didn't mean to mix up the papers, Dean," he apologized, the words coming out quiet and mumbled. "It was jus' an accident."

Dean's eyes softened at seeing the state of his brother's feelings. He hadn't meant to make him cry. It was his own fault for not paying attention to what was going on. It's wasn't as though cooking up fish sticks really took that much consideration anyway. Turning to look at Becca, Dean's eyebrows dropped as he saw her emotion hadn't changed. She continued to shake her fists and give him a deadly glare. Taken aback by the emotion splayed out on her face and in her eyes, Dean ran a hand through his hair. "All right, look. I'll tell Dad that it was my fault, okay? I should have been paying attention when you asked if you could color on it." Sam nodded his head, sniffing back the last of his tears, but Becca didn't move. Her eyes blinked a few times before Dean finally snapped from the pressure. "What!?" he barked.

Looking over to see that Sam was fully done crying, but still upset, she turned back to stare at Dean. "You have to say you're sorry."

Dean looked at Becca as though she was crazy. There was no way he was going to say he was sorry. Besides, he'd just said he would take the blame. That was apology enough in his mind. "Yeah, I don't think so," he waved her off, pushing past her and walking back to the kitchen area of the room. Picking up fish sticks and throwing them on a couple of plates, Dean jumped when a small, sharp pain attacked his side. Whipping around, Dean glared down at the little girl who had a sneer on her face. "Stop hitting me!"

"Tell Sam you're sorry!" she barked, pointing back to her twin who was sulking at the table once more. "You made him cry. Only I can make Sam cry."

"I'm not saying anything. I already said I was gonna tell Dad it was my fault," Dean huffed, taking one of the plates and shoving it towards his sister. "And no one is allowed to make Sammy cry, got it?"

Growling, Becca pushed the plate away, almost making Dean drop it. "No. Sam's my brother, so I get to make him cry."

Setting the plate back on the counter, Dean crossed his arms. "Sam's my brother, too."

"Not if you make him cry. Because brothers don't make each other cry, re-mem-ber?" she taunted with words he'd told her earlier that week.

Rolling his eyes at his own words, he shifted his stance as something came to him. "Then how come you get to make Sammy cry? Sisters don't make brothers cry, either, you know."

Becca turned to face Sam, watching him slowly drag all of his drawings out of the pile Dean had created with a sad, defeated air. "I don't make Sammy cry," she quietly told Dean before looking up at him, compassion sparkling in her eyes when she saw how sad her brother was. "But I could if I wanted to 'cause he's my brother!" she immediately bit, not losing the point of her anger at Dean. "So you say sorry, 'cause if you don't, you're not Sam's brother. And then you're not my brother. And then that means you're a stranger and I'll get Daddy to kick your butt."

Groaning audibly and pulling the plates off of the counter, Dean shoved past his sister to the table. Dropping one plate in front of Sam, Dean cleared his throat. "I… I'm sorry, Sam. None of this was your fault, okay? It's mine. I'll tell Dad it was my fault, and that he isn't allowed to be angry with you."

Sam looked up at his brother, his lightly pink eyes shining with hope. "Thanks, Dean," Sam smiled, grabbing a paper off the table. "Here. You can have this," he told him, handing the drawing over.

Becca smiled and climbed into her own chair, taking the plate from Dean with a smile. "You can have this one, too," she nodded, digging deep for a picture she'd colored because it reminded her of Dean. Plastering on a giant grin when he looked at it and saw it was poorly drawn guy jumping out of a plane, Becca couldn't help but laugh. Dean growled at the arrow pointing to the stick figure that read 'Dean'. Narrowing his eyes at the terrified look in the drawing's eyes, Dean leaped forward and tackled his sister playfully, causing her loud laughter to fill the room.