Well, it's time for yet another chapter! Thanks yet again to everyone who's bothering to review.

Dean had quickly come to regret deciding to pick up a few cans of his little brother's favorite food. While the small grocery store, one that seemed to be a very tiny, failing Wal-Mart wanna-be, wasn't as far from the room as the McDonald's had been, it was still a long walk, especially with several cans full of Spaghetti-Os in one of the bags at his side. However, he was confident that the look on his own young face when he walked through the door and revealed what was in the other bag would be well worth it. Not Lucky Charms, but something Dean had wanted almost all of his childhood.

He stumbled up to the door, nearly spilling the five bags of food he'd collected on his shopping spree, and raised a hand to knock.

"Who's there?" Sam's voice called from the other side, and Dean could imagine the untrusting look in his eyes. He gave his name.

"How old are you?"

"I'm 27, dude," Dean called back, shifting the bags on his arms. They were starting to get heavy.

"Who's the president?"

"Now? Man, I dunno, but in 17 years it'll George W. Bush. Happy?"

"Who came before him?"

Dean sighed, rolling his eyes and debating whether or not he should drop the bags while Sam quizzed him on current events. "Clinton, a man after my own heart. Can I come in now? This crap is getting heavy."

The sound of one deep chuckle and two high pitched giggles met his ears and the hunter couldn't help but smile at his family. As messed up as they may be, they could sure as hell adapt fast.

The door opened and he walked in, dropping the bags on the kitchenette's yellow tiled floor and breathing a sigh of relief. "You know, that store's fifty miles away."

"It is not," the littlest boy smiled as he began digging through the bags for something good.

"Maybe, but it sure feels that way when you're lugging twenty pounds of Spaghetti-Os."

"What's in the other bag?"

Dean turned to look at himself. The boy was staring with suspicious eyes at the only bag he hadn't dropped on the floor, the one with the surprise in it.

"Well," the oldest hunter shrugged, "since we have some time to kill before dinner rolls around, and there's really nothing to do in here, I figured maybe we could get out. Stretch our legs, maybe grab some fresh air. There's a basketball court in that park we went to today."

"We don't have a basketball."

Dean smiled, trying hard not to look at Sam, who was also eying him suspiciously. "Now you do," he pulled the ball out of the bag and dropped it to the floor, where it rolled to the ten-year-old's feet, "I was thinking maybe we could play some one-on-one before dinner."

The boy grinned, revealing a small gap in his otherwise perfect teeth. It was the look his older self had been hoping for, sure enough. Sam, on the other hand, didn't seem so happy about it.

"What about Jake? He's still out there."

Dean shrugged. "If he's stupid enough to attack us again, we'll deal with it. Don't worry, I'm not gonna let anything kill little me."

Sam shook his head as his brother opened the door and ushered the little boy out. He glanced over at the younger child, who was busy sorting through the groceries, and sighed. The look on this kid's face was heart wrenching, a primitive form of his own perfected puppy-dog face. The boy wanted to go, too.

"Hey, Dean," Sam called out before the door could close. His brother stuck his head in. He couldn't believe he was about to say it, but he agreed with the older man. Maybe a little happiness was what they really needed in their young lives. "How about some two-on-two?"

Dean's face lit up, as did little Sammy's. "Sure thing, man. Come on."

The courts were a little run-down, sure, but they served their purpose. The ball bounced from boy to man as the game commenced. All four Winchesters were a little rusty, but that didn't matter in the long run.

"It's not fair," Dean complained as Sam ran past him and dunked the ball through the hoop, "you're taller than me!"

"And 17 years ago you were taller than me," Sam countered, tossing him the ball, "it all works out in the end. Now watch, kid, because this man right here is proof that you'll always suck at sports."

Dean attempted a basket and failed miserably, his shoulders slumping as the ball sailed past the backboard and into the grassy area beyond. "I'm just rusty," he muttered, "that's all."

"So," the older man began, walking out of the small bedroom to join his brother on the couch, "the kids are full, completely spent, and probably already asleep. Wanna talk about today?"

"What about it?" Sam asked.

"You had fun. I know you don't want to admit it, but you had fun. The kids had fun, too. Now, I know exactly where everything's hidden in this room, and we could take it all, grab the kids, and find Jake, or we could go with Plan B."

"What's Plan B?"

Dean sighed, avoiding his brother's glare. "When we were coming back from the park I noticed some trucks pulling into town and onto an old dirt lot. They're setting up for a carnival. I was thinking maybe-"

"No," Sam said firmly, "that's where I draw the line. It was bad enough you told that kid everything, worse yet that you got me to guilt myself into playing basketball with you, but no carnival. We never went to those things when we were kids."

"Exactly. Didn't you ever wonder what it was like? They'll have fun. We'll have fun, too, I guarantee it."

"We can't. We'll go after Jake tomorrow, we'll go back through the wormhole. They'll try to forget about us, dad will undoubtedly come back, and they'll move on. We'll all move on. No carnival."

"You know, you always bitch about the crappy time we had growing up, moving from motel to motel, and never getting to be normal. You finally get a chance to change that and you don't take it. Why? It's not because it could change the future, because we both know that our future isn't exactly bright. Now what is it really?"

Sammy shook his head. "Dad. If he knew we were trying to change things, he'd kill us."

"He'll never know."

"That doesn't make it all right. We're not even sure what we're changing, just that something'll probably be different. Who knows, Jess might still die, dad might still walk out on you, we might end up right back where we started. We can't do it, Dean. No carnival."

"Tell me about it," Dean sighed.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I already promised myself we'd go. I'm sure he's told his brother. But, if you want to crush their little hopes, be my guest. If not, I can always take them and you can stay here and do whatever. I don't mind babysitting."

Sam sighed, finally recognizing defeat. They would go, with or without him. "Fine, I'll tag along. But only for a couple of hours, all right? Then we're back on the hunt."

"Yes, sir," Dean replied, and Sam could have sworn he'd seen a wink toward the kids' closed bedroom door.