Chapter Seven - Saturdays
By all accounts Saturday should be a day off. But it's not. Dean's got a small child to take care of, and though Saturday is considered the weekend, it sure as Hell isn't a day off. Because Sam has no school, and he requires a lot of attention. Well, maybe he doesn't require it, but Dean likes for him to have it. So Saturdays for Dean mean getting Sam to this practice or that practice and coming through on promises to see spaceship movies and dinosaur exhibits.
It's not as relaxing as he imagines a real day off would be, but it's still the best part of his week.
Dean's always prided himself on being able to suspend his little brother's disbelief, to turn mediocre daily chores and generally persistent poverty into an adventure. He turns the laundromat into their Space Cadet HQ, the public bus into a submarine, the sun-bleached, craggy sidewalks of their neighborhood into a kingdom, a familiar place where Sam feels safe as long as Dean is beside him. Saturdays are for adventures, for all of Dean's hardened edges to smooth themselves out again, for acting young, as though he could afford it. Sam is exhausting, as is any child. But he is a balm to the strain in Dean's shoulders where he carries their combined familial weight.
The museum is free today, thank god, and Sam is so excited to see the dinosaur bones that he can barely keep still. He reads every placard to Dean in his stunted childish way, always looking back at his brother to make sure Dean heard, to see if Dean is as excited as him. And Dean smiles because he loves Sam's enthusiasm and he feels like a genius for finding a way to get him to practice his reading all day. He knows Sam's leagues ahead of the other kids in his class, and he's unmeasurably proud. Sam drags Dean by the hand through every room. When they've finished Dean gets on his knees to better button up Sammy's coat, all the while his little brother is rambling on about how dinosaurs are really just like birds and if pigeons were bigger maybe they would eat people. He takes Sam's hand as they walk outside, and there's an unseasonable chill in the air. He buys hotdogs at the stand for the two of them and leads them over to the park. There are benches facing the more urban part of town and Dean likes to sit there and see all the bustling of life happening around them. Busy people with busy lives, getting by on a little - just like them. Today there is some event on the stone steps of the church just across the road. Their choir are all out there, singing and smiling. Like they believe what they sing. Like they couldn't be happier to raise their voices together. He and Sam sit on their bench, and even after they've finished their hot dogs they stay to listen. Sam watches, captivated, and Dean soaks in every harmony and every soulful musical lilt. It strikes him as being very beautiful. Dean's not usually one for church tunes, but there's something nice about it. And music is music. That Dean can appreciate.
He looks down to his side and takes in the sight of Sammy watching them, and it's one of those moments Dean knows will stick with him. Because Sam is precious to him and today he feels like he's done right by him.
Of course, like all small children, when Sam gets tired, he's pretty much done. He leans heavily against Dean's side at the bus stop as though he can't entirely hold himself up. Dean is certain that if he were to sidestep suddenly, his brother would topple to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
"Why don't we have the car?" he whines into Dean's sleeve.
"We never bring the car downtown. You know that. Nowhere to put her."
Dean doesn't bother to mention that gas is a terrifying four seventeen a gallon and he's barely got enough money to make it through next week.
On the bus ride home Dean is staring out the window, but not really looking at the city as it trudges by, Sam asleep against his side. His cellphone buzzes and for a moment he isn't sure what's happening. No one ever calls unless it's Mrs. Tran (which it shouldn't be, because Sam is sitting right beside him) or his father. He digs the phone out of his pocket and flips it open, his eyebrows raising in surprise.
Cas: What are you doing during third period tomorrow?
Dean considers not responding. Briefly. But ultimately, answering a question asked is instinct, and his thumbs are clicking away before he's sure what to say.
Dean: Sposed to be at gym. Why?
Cas: Meet me in BioLab seven on the third floor.
Dean doesn't respond. He doesn't know if he's going to go.
