A seven-year-old Dean Winchester Jr. entered his bedroom with a big yawn. After spending half of the day at school, doing homework and playing games with his daddy, the little one was left beyond exhausted and wanted nothing more than to cuddle with his favorite teddy bear and fall asleep.
Brushing his teeth as quickly as he could, the kid grabbed his teddy, crawled into the blanket and was about to close his eyes when a strange noise greeted his ears, making him alert instantly. The room was dark due to which he couldn't see who was there, so he squinted, trying to force his eyes to adjust the darkness. Nothing. However, the noise repeated. It was coming from the outside and sounded a lot like footsteps, as if someone was walking towards the house as quietly as he could. Hugging the bear close to his chest, little Dean waited nervously for that something or someone to show up.
"Daddy?" – The boy called, thinking it was his daddy, making sure everything was fine in the yard before going to sleep. No answer. It made Dean even more nervous and he noticed he was no longer sleepy.
About a minute later the noise stopped rather suddenly, but the kid was grateful for it. He didn't want to spend the entire night shivering and waiting for an invisible monster to eat him. Daddy could help but he didn't want to disturb him. The boy considered himself old enough to deal with such problems on his own.
5 minutes passed in silence. Dean thought he had imagined it all and snuggled back into his blankets, ready to drift into a peaceful slumber but suddenly he heard some noises near his window, as if someone was trying to open it. Dean's eyes widened in horror, forcing him to bury his head in his teddy's small neck, praying for it to be over.
"Son of a bitch!" – The boy heard – "Who could have thought opening a bloody window could be so difficult".
Who was that? A thief? That would make sense but that didn't explain the problem with the window because it was pretty easy to open. No thief could have a problem with it. Then who? His little brain searched for answers but found nothing so he decided to wait. Dean was as silent as a mouse until he felt a warm hand on his head, caressing his hair lightly.
"Hey, buddy, are you awake?" – A warm voice filled his ears, making his heart skip a beat. Although the voice sounded unfamiliar, it was filled with so much warmth that the boy couldn't help but peek from his blanket, trying to make out the features of the stranger.
"Don't worry, I am not going to hurt you. I just wanted to see you and talk to you". – The stranger encouraged him, his hand stroking the dark curls lazily. The boy liked it. The hand was warm and soothing, taking away his tiredness. Deciding to give him a chance, Dean shrugged his blanket off and sat up in his small bed, making sure to keep his bear close to him before narrowing his eyes at the stranger in a miserable attempt to see his face.
"Who are you?" – He finally gathered the courage to ask.
"What? How come your dork of a father never said a word about me? That's so unlike him". – The stranger said more to himself than to Dean. The kid furrowed his brows together, musing quietly. As far as he knew, his daddy wasn't exactly a talkative person. He usually listened more than actually talked. However, there was only was person he could never stop talking about. But who? Mommy? No. Aunt Jody? He didn't think so. Grandpa John or Grandma Mary? Still no. Frowning deeply, Dean forced his mind to think, struggling with all his mind to remember and finally, it struck him.
"Uncle Dean?" – He whispered in awe.
"Yup, that's me". – Dean answered with a soft chuckle, feeling a huge weight leaving his shoulders. So his nephew knew him well enough to recognize him. It meant he still lived in Sammy's heart and his baby brother still remembered him. His eyes welled up but he quickly regained his composure, turning his attention to the boy in front of him.
The little Dean couldn't hold his curiosity any longer and turned the light on, eager to see his uncle's face. Soon he was able to see a very attractive young man with dark blonde hair, green eyes and light freckles on his face.
"But you are…" – The boy began but Dean cut him off:
"Dead. I know but I am a ghost. I'm sure your daddy told you about them, right?"
"Yeah but he said they are bad and they kill people". – The little Dean explained – "But you are not bad, are you? Daddy told me so many good things about you that you can't be bad. Please, don't be bad". – He almost pleaded, looking at his uncle with his best puppy dog eyes which looked a lot like Sam's expression. Dean smiled fondly upon remembering his brother. The little one looked so much like him.
"No, don't worry, I am not bad. In fact, ghosts are not always meant to be bad. Some of them are evil but there are good ones, too. However, being a ghost sucks. Although I can touch things, I still find it hard to get used to the feeling. I barely managed to open that window".
"That's bad".
"By the way, what's your name, pal?"– He asked, ruffling the boy's hair. It was so smooth he couldn't help it.
"Dean".
The words made Dean Winchester freeze on his spot. He blinked once, twice, trying to comprehend what he had just heard. Had he heard right? This little one was named after him. Sam gave his only child the name of his dead brother. Upon realizing how much Sammy actually loved and respected him, the older Winchester felt his heart filling with so much warmth he thought it would explode (if he were alive) and his eyes welled up again, releasing a hot waterfall of tears. The boy noticed it and looked at him in confusion. Then he reached and carefully wiped the tears from his uncle's eyes, giving him a small smile.
"What's wrong? Why are you crying?" – He asked softly, remembering his daddy's technique of consoling a crying person.
Dean quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and returned the smile, shaking his head lightly as he didn't trust his voice.
"Nothing, buddy". – He finally said, voice a bit husky – "It's just a great honor". – upon noticing the boy's confused face, Dean smiled and decided to change the subject.
"You'll realize what I mean when you grow up. Now tell me a thing or two about your daddy and your life in general".
"Daddy is the best!" – The boy began enthusiastically – "He teaches me many things, reads to me, tells me stories about you, Castiel, Jack and others. We have a lot of pictures of you guys!" – The kid smiled – "But there are times when daddy seems dis…dist…distant and his eyes often well up against his will. He even wipes a tear or two when he thinks I am not looking. It's clear something bothers him but he never tells me a word about it, claiming my mind is too young to bear such burden". – The boy finished with a frown.
Dean knew what was wrong and he would give anything to relieve his brother's pain but for that he needed to come back which he couldn't. Sighing softly, he spoke:
"Your dad is a rare person. We knew each other better than anyone else knew us but there were times I just couldn't reach him so I backed away, letting him open up to me on his own. I had to wait for days, months and even years but it was worth it. He always managed to gather enough courage to tell me the truth but I never forced it out of him and you shouldn't do it either. Give him some time and he will tell you".
"I think he misses something because he sits in that black car for hours every day with tears in his eyes, staring blankly into the space".
"Yeah, maybe". – Dean agreed and then realized something – "Wait, he still has my baby?" – The boy gave him a questioning look, so Dean explained quickly – "I mean the car".
"Yeah".
"Do you like her?"
"It is nice".
"She" – Dean corrected – "Does he treat her well?"
"He treats that car as if it is an alive person". – The boy responded, it was clear he couldn't understand his dad's behavior.
"Good job, Sammy. I expected no less from you". – Dean muttered to himself with a proud smile.
"Uncle Dean?" – The boy's voice broke him out of his reverie.
"Yes, pal?"
"Will you come back to us?" – The little one asked, voice full of hope. Dean sighed and shook his head much to the boy's dismay.
"No, I can't come back".
"Why?"
"Because it's against the rules".
"What rules?"
"Rules of god".
"Oh, I see". – The boy said in a sad tone.
"Hey, don't be sad. We'll be reunited someday".
"When?"
"I don't know exactly but we will".
"Where?"
"In heaven. I am sure you know what heaven is".
"Yes, daddy told me that when good people die they go to heaven where waterfalls of milks and castles of candies are waiting for them". – The boy beamed. – "So it means when I die I will go to heaven?"
"Never have a doubt about that, buddy".
"Will there be pies?"
Dean's eyes widened slightly before he responded: "Yes, a lot of pies".
"And Scooby Doo, as well, right?"
"Yup. You can have anything you want".
"Yay!" – The boy clapped his hands with a laugh but then frowned suddenly.
"But I don't think I will die anytime soon. It means I will not see you again?"
"I don't think we will see each other again in this life. I spent 7 years begging Jack to give me an hour to pay a visit to my nephew and he always refused, telling me he couldn't go against the rules but I was able to convince him today. I don't think he will be so generous next time".
"Oh…" – The boy whispered in a trembling voice, obviously in the verge of tears.
"Don't worry, I'll always be with you, your mommy and your daddy and you will always feel my presence. You won't get rid of your uncle Dean so easily, little Deano". – He finished with a playful wink.
"Hey, I am not that little" – The boy protested – "And it's Dean".
"You are a mini Sam, you know that?" – Dean chuckled but stopped rather abruptly when he felt a pair of tiny arms wrap around his waist, hugging him with all their might.
"Uncle Dean?" – He heard the muffled noise of his nephew who had his head buried in his uncle's stomach.
"Hmm?"
"I love you".
Blinking back another series of tears, Dean dropped a kiss on the boy's head, returning his hug with a smile.
"I love you too, Dean. Don't forget that".
The boy pulled away and gave him a tearful smile. Dean smiled back but it froze on his face as soon as he noticed a flash of warning light, informing him it was time to go.
"Sorry but I really need to go, pal".
The boy nodded in understanding. Dean stood up and tucked the kid in the bed, making sure to cover him well with the blanket before dropping a kiss on his forehead.
"Hey, kid?"
"Yeah?" – The boy mumbled sleepily.
"It was nice to meet you".
The little Dean opened his eyes and gave his uncle an adorable smile.
"It was nice to meet you, too, uncle Dean". – He said, earning a wide grin from the older Winchester
"Can you do me a favor?"
"Sure".
"Don't tell your daddy about me, ok? I can't come back so I don't want to bring up old memories and hurt him again".
"Ok, I won't tell him".
"Good boy". – Dean grinned.
The boy snuggled in his comfy blanket once again and closed his eyes. The last thing he heard was "I'll always watch over you".
The next day Dean got ready for school and sat in the car where his daddy was waiting for him. Sam gave his son a smile and fastened his seatbelt before starting the car.
"Hey, Dean, who were you talking to yesterday?" – Sam asked suddenly. Dean's shoulders tensed, his brows knitting together as he struggled to come up with a believable lie. He had never lied to his dad in his entire life but he had no other choice. He had to keep his promise.
"No one". – He began – "I was playing with my teddy". – The words slipped out of his mouth so convincingly that he mentally clapped himself for having such amazing acting skills.
"Oh, all right". – Sam smiled, obviously convinced and kept his eyes glued to the road.
They kept driving in a comfortable silence until Dean's voice broke it:
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Dean?"
"What does son of a bitch mean?"
The End