Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own nothing Supernatural.

Author's Note: Finally another update, even if it is mostly fluff. Oh, well, it'll move the story along some at least. And it's a breif respite from the overwhelming sort of angst that I know you and both love so much, but really, sometimes need a bit of a break from. I promise I'll try to update soon, but until then, on with the story!

Callie's POV

I couldn't get it all down stairs in one trip. Too much stuff. So I threw some of it, just the soft stuff though. Peter Panda and Joey the Kangaroo and my bright pink bedspread, because Mommy says pink brightens everything up, even your mood. But my jar of pennies and box of cars I had to carry because if Mommy heard them clunk around down the stairs, she'd get mad. She always gets mad over stupid things like that.

I bring everything into the living room and set them up for him. My jar goes on the table and Joey and Peter sit next to him on the couch and then I pull out all the cars and line them up on the table too. And then I give him the blanket. "Because you have to keep warm," I say, and shake my finger at him so he knows I'm serious.

But he just looks at it funny and says, "No thanks, kid. I'm good." And then he sneezes. Again.

"But it'll help," I say, handing him another tissue.

"Yeah, well…" I pout at him, cause that's what I do to my Daddy when he doesn't want to do what I want. Mommy says I have him wrapped around my little finger, which I guess is my pinky because it's the littlest, but I still don't get it. But I know if I frown like that he usually gives in. I hope Dean will too. "It's just that," he says and wipes his nose. But I keep on pouting. "It's pink."

"Duh."

"Callie, I'm a guy. Guy's don't do pink."

"My friend Jason has a shirt and it's pink and it says, 'Real Men Wear Pink'."

"Yeah, well, I'm not Jason." He sneezes again and so I climb up on the couch and pull the bedspread over him whether he likes or not because he's sick and Mommy always says that when you have a cold the best thing to do is rest and stay warm. And she says you have keep a positive attitude. And she says that the color pink always helps brighten her attitude. So it should help Dean's too. He groans some but doesn't kick the blanket off him. Even so, I sit down by his feet so that if he tries I'll be there to tuck him back in. "What is all this stuff anyway?" he asks.

"Well, that," I say pointing, "is Peter Panda. And that's his friend Joey. They're here to help. Cause you're supposed to stay in bed, even though this isn't your bed. But Mommy said you could stay here, so I guess you can. But you're not supposed to get up. Unless you have to go to the bathroom, because they can't help with that. But if you need something else, just tell them and they'll get it for you."

"They will?" he asks while blowing his nose. "Well, in that case guys, I could use some more tissues."

I turn around and grab the box behind me and hand it to him. "Here."

"I thought that was their job."

"Well, the box was behind me. You didn't expect them to get up and come all the way over here to get them for you when I could just hand them over, did you?" For an old guy, sometimes Dean doesn't seem like he knows too much. I shake my head at him and he laughs. I don't know why, but I guess it's a good thing because Mommy always says that laughter's the best medicine. "Anyway," I say and point at the table. "Those are my cars because I know you like cars, and you're supposed to be surrounded by pleasant things when you're sick. They help the healing process."

"Surrounded by pleasant things?"

"Yeah. You know, stuff you like. Like cars."

"And it helps the 'healing process'?"

"Yeah." I don't know why he's looking at me like that, like I'm some kind of weirdo or something. Maybe it's the fever. "And this," I say, ignoring him and his look and patting the bedspread instead, "is my most magicalist bedspread."

"Most magicalist?" I wonder if he has trouble hearing. Last time I caught cold I was so stuffed up that everything sounded really funny, like my ears were clogged and stuff kinda echoed and I couldn't hear right. Maybe that's why he keeps asking what I said. I nod. And he says, "What makes it the most magicalist?"

"Well," I say, crossing my legs and getting comfortable, "first off, it's pink."

"I see that."

"And pink brightens everything." He nods so I know he's listening. "And plus, my Daddy gave it to me and he said that if I ever get scared at night all I have to do it duck under it and nothing can get me. But I don't think it works just at night. I think it'll work now too."

"Oh, well, that's good."

"I'm not saying you're scared though." Cause I know he got real upset when everybody made fun of him for being scared of that rat, and I don't want him to think I'm making fun of him. Besides there's nothing scary about having a cold. It just sucks is all. "But, still, it's magic. It'll help make you better."

"You sure about that?"

"Of course. Daddy wouldn't lie and when he put it on my bed he said that it would keep all bad things away. And the sniffles are bad things." I think he actually meant monsters because at the time there was one that kept looking at me from inside the ceiling fan, don't know why. But I thought he might jump out at me. But once I got my pink bedspread he couldn't. Then I think he got bored and went away. But anyway, I'm sure if it'll keep away monsters it'll get rid of icky sickies too.

I look over at Dean and he's looking at me all weird, like he's really sad. So I put my hand on his and ask him what's wrong. But he just shakes his head. I try telling him that if his head hurts Peter can go get him some Tylenol, or if he wants some juice, I'm sure that Joey'll run and get it for him. But he just shakes his head, so I guess that's not what he wants. Sometimes, when Mommy has a headache, she says she just wants some peace and quiet. Maybe that's what Dean wants too. So I just sit there by his feet and be real quiet.

"Callie," he says after a super long time, "what would you do if your mom or dad decided to leave you?" Leave me? Why would they leave me? He's not making sense, and I guess he knows that I know that because he says, "not that they ever would, but I mean, if they did, you know, for some reason…leave…well, what do you think you'd do?"

"What kind of reason?"

"I don't know, because they wanted to do something different, you know, with their lives."

"Like what?"

"I don't," he stops and opens his mouth, throws back his head. I think he thought he was gonna sneeze, but it doesn't come. "I don't know. Maybe they just wanted to do something…else."

"You mean like teaching?"

"Teaching, yeah, like teaching."

I shrug. "They wouldn't have to leave."
"Say they did."

"But they wouldn't."

"But what if they did?"

"They wouldn't."

"But let's just say…say the only…teaching school…was really far away, so they'd have to go away."

"Both of them?"

"No, not both of them, but…well, yeah, maybe both of them."

"But then I'd be alone."

"Yeah, I know."

"But…" Why would Mommy and Daddy leave me alone? Don't they love me? I'm just a kid. I can't live on my own. I'd die. I can't drive, or cook, or buy groceries. I'd starve to death! I'm not allowed to walk to school yet. I wouldn't ever get to first grade. I don't know how to do laundry! I can't even reach the freezer for popsicles! I'd die!

"Callie, Callie," he says and reaches over to grab my arm. He's all blurry when I see him so I rub my eyes and wipe away some of the tears, but they don't stop coming. Why would they leave me! "Callie, your parents aren't going anywhere. Really, I promise." He says it like he means it, but I don't know.

"You said…"

"Forget what I said. It was stupid. I was just being stupid. They're not going anywhere." I kind of believe him, mostly. I mean, they wouldn't leave, right? Nobody leaves behind the people they love, right? He leans back and closes his eyes and rubs them, says something under his breath, "just make the poor kid cry, Dean. Good one," or something like that. And then he coughs some and sneezes again. And I take one of his tissues and wipe my eyes.

After a few minutes I think we both feel a little better. So I show him my cars and we talk about them a little. I named them all, but he doesn't think that's weird. At least he doesn't say so. "Jason says it's weird," I say real quiet.

"Jason? The kid who wears pink?" He makes a psh noise and says, "He's the weird one." Don't I know it. Once I saw him eat dirt.

"He says that girls shouldn't even play with cars. But I don't play with them. They're collectors."

"Collectibles?"

"Right. I told him, my daddy gave them to me because he likes cars. And so do I. And he can just stay out my business if he's gonna be mean."

"Right on," he says and wipes his nose.

"He even wants to teach people about them. My daddy, not Jason. Jason doesn't know anything about cars."

"He does?"

"No, he doesn't." There's that hearing thing again.

"No, your dad. He wants to teach? He's the one who wants to be a teacher?"

"Yeah, but I don't think he'd have to go away like you said. Would he?"

My voice squeaks when I say it and I think it must scare him or something because he throws his hands up and says, "No, no, I'm sure he wouldn't," real fast, like he has to get it out before I start crying, which I thought I might just do if my daddy did have to leave. But I didn't cry, and he leaned back again and started looking at Stella my '67 Shelby GT. "I just didn't know your dad wanted to do that."

"Oh yeah," I say, putting Stella back in line with the others. "He wants to teach at the high school or something, but he has to run the garage so he can't. He said he wanted to find somebody else to run it, maybe even sell it, but nobody wants to. He said cause it's a small town and all, everybody already has jobs and is 'set in their ways', whatever that means."

"Yeah. Huh." He stops talking and doesn't pick up another car and I almost ask him what's wrong or if he wants some more stuffy nose medicine or a hug, because both of those always make me feel better, but then Mommy comes in and so I don't.

"What are you two up to?" she says smiling.

"I'm making him better," I say, even though right now he doesn't really look any better.

"I'll bet you are," she says to me. Then she turns to Dean, "Of course, if somebody had just listened to me and changed into some dry clothes the moment he got home the other night instead of lurking around the cold kitchen in them for an hour…well, if that had happened then I don't suppose he'd need anyone to make him better, now would he?"

Dean just laughs, and coughs, and says, "No, Sal, I don't suppose he would."

"Callie, honey, why don't you pack some of this stuff up and take it back to your room. Especially that disgusting jar of pennies," Mommy says.

"Yeah, what are those for anyway?" Dean asks. But I don't get to answer because Mommy does for me. In this house you get used real fast to Mommy talking over you. At least that's what Daddy says.

"She sucks on them, likes the taste of copper or something. I know, it's awful. I've tried to disinfect them at least, but…oh well, strange habits. At least she doesn't swallow them anymore."

"They have medical-inci-ninal properties." Lots of metals do. I learned that from the Discovery Channel.

"Well," she says, "it's still a disgusting habit. Now go on and take them upstairs."

I put all my cars back in the box and grab them and the jar and shove Peter and Joey under my arms. But they're too big so I have to leave them behind. And then I go, but I stomp around as I do so she'll know just how mad I am. No reason to kick me out, I was there before her anyway.

"Hey, Callie," Dean says, and I turn around. "Thanks. I feel better already." He smiles and winks and I think he does look a little better, even if his nose is still all red and runny. I scowl at Mommy on my way out and start up the stairs, but I can still hear them talking.

"What do you think you're doing," Mommy asks him. "Just where are you going?"

"Jake's at the garage, right?" he says. "I gotta talk to him."

Then I hear Dean cough and Mommy hrumph, and the door shut behind him.