Well, time for another chapter. Finally, things are picking up. And, i mean, come on, you can't go wrong with a carnival, right?
People were screaming, but for once in the Winchester's lives, it wasn't from fear. The roller coaster trundled loudly along the track as a merry-go-round tinkled out a tune and a small Ferris wheel spun. Sam stood in the middle of it all, tapping his foot impatiently as he watched his younger self wave from one of the rides. He forced a smile and waved back, watching as the kid frowned with confusion.
That simple action scared the tar out of the hunter, who was still getting the distinct feeling that the kid could read minds and didn't even know it. But if he had, in the past, been able to worm his way inside people's heads, why couldn't he remember it?
"Here ya go."
Sam was ripped from his thoughts as a large purple dog was shoved into his arms. He looked at Dean questioningly.
"Won it," the older man shrugged, "thought the kid might like it."
"How'd you win this?" Sam asked, pulling the stuffed animal away from his face to get a good look at it.
"Same way he won this one," the ten-year-old replied, shifting the huge brown bear he was holding, "popping balloons with darts."
"See," Dean smiled, "dad was right when he said target practice would come in handy."
"That's great," Sam muttered, struggling to see over the dog's head as kids began filing off the ride. Dean grabbed the animal back and handed it to the shaggy little boy as he approached.
"Happy birthday," he grinned as the kid took it, his green eyes shining.
"How'd you know it was my birthday?" Sammy asked.
Dean shrugged. "Lucky guess. You guys hungry?"
"We can go back to the room to eat," Sam suggested, "maybe start looking for Jake after that."
"Or," Dean began, "I could take little you and we could grab some hotdogs and you and little me can go find a place to sit. Deal? Good." Without waiting for any kind of reply from his brother, Dean took the smallest of the kids and walked off with him toward a hotdog cart.
Sam glanced down at the freckled boy standing beside him. "I don't like you," he muttered.
"Yeah? You act like a girl."
"Am I a pretty girl?"
The boy laughed, again revealing the small gap between his front teeth, as he followed Sam to one of the wooden picnic tables that had been set up. "You're beautiful," he finally chuckled.
"Great. Just what I wanted to hear." He looked back at his brother, standing in a long line with his hands in his pockets, talking with the little boy that stood at his side. "Hey," Sam began slowly, "can I ask you something?"
"What?"
"Your brother… does he ever have bad dreams?"
"Everyone has bad dreams."
"Do his come true?"
Dean laughed again. "No. He's not psychic. But lately he's been really quiet, and he gives me all these weird looks. It's almost like he knows what I'm thinking, but that's impossible, right? Unless, that is, you can read minds."
Sam shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint. No telepathy here."
The boy nodded and went on watching the crowds of people milling around. A nearby family was eating a picnic lunch and laughing. Dean smiled. "This is great," he muttered, "I never would have been able to do something like this if you guys hadn't shown up. I'd probably be back in the room right now with Sammy, bored to death, and really hungry."
"Or dead. If we hadn't shown up when we had, you'd both be dead now."
The kid shuddered. "Yeah. Thanks."
"What were you guys doing out of the room, anyway? Didn't dad always say to stay locked in?"
Dean shrugged. "I got bored. Nothing should have gone wrong, not this time. I took Sam with me. Nothing was going to attack him again because I took him with. I just wanted to have a little fun. You're not gonna tell anyone, are you? You won't tell me?"
"Why should it matter? He knows what you were doing."
"Yeah, but he might be disappointed. I don't want him to get mad at me."
"That would be like getting mad at himself. He wouldn't do that."
"I could have gotten you killed," the kid said, looking up into his eyes, "he wouldn't be able to forgive me for something like that. Please, promise me you won't tell. I'll do whatever you want. I'll even let you leave. Hell, I'll help you pack."
Sam gazed at the boy, a ten-year-old who'd just sworn, who was scared of himself, and who had more issues than Sam could poke a stick at. "I won't tell. Just don't cuss. Dad'll get mad if he hears."
The boy smiled. "All right." He looked back at the line for the hotdogs, which was moving incredibly slowly. "I'm glad you guys are here. It's been fun."
"That's the point, isn't it?"
"I guess. I've just never gotten to do anything like this. It's great, too, having someone who knows you like that. It's like we're finally getting to be kids. I don't have to worry about protecting you anymore."
"Why not?"
Dean grinned as the food approached. "He promised he wouldn't let anything happen while he was here. Like a vacation. I can finally sleep all night long."
Sam glanced briefly at the boy as a hotdog was set down in front of him. He turned to look at his brother, who had slid onto the bench and, somehow, already devoured half of his meal.
"After lunch, I was thinking we could stay maybe one more hour, then go looking for Jake," he suggested, "sound good?"
The kids both moaned, but agreed to help, even though it would mean they wouldn't get to ride everything or play all of the games.
Sighing, Sam picked up his hotdog. "Actually," he muttered, "we could stay a little longer. Maybe until nightfall. Then head back to the room, get some sleep, and go after the demon tomorrow."
"Are you suggesting we stay here all day?"
"Unless you really want to leave, yeah."
Dean grinned, "I guess we're staying."
The little boy's head lay limply on the older man's shoulder, dark, unruly hair tickling his face. Sure, Dean knew the kid wasn't asleep, but he was tired and needed rest. Besides, what kind of babysitter would let a six-year-old walk back to a motel room in the dark like that? He was just fine giving piggy-back rides.
"All right," Sam finally conceded, staring over the top of the stuffed dog's head, "I'll admit it. I had fun today. Probably more fun than I've had since leaving Stanford."
"Of course you had fun," Dean countered, shifting the exhausted kid's weight on his back, "it's a carnival. And no evil clowns this time."
"What are we gonna do tomorrow?" the little boy asked, reminding everyone that he was still awake.
"We're gonna hunt down the thing that attacked you and make sure it never tries to hurt anyone again," Dean smirked, "then my brother and I are heading home."
The kid nodded against his neck. "And we'll forget, right, Dean?"
His brother nodded sadly. "Yeah. We'll forget."
The group rounded the corner to the parking lot and stopped dead. Sam dropped the purple dog onto the pavement, his mouth hanging open as he stared at the car, at the lights shining from the window of the motel room their father had left them in. He knew what it meant. "Daddy's home."