"That went well," declared Dean, in a heavily sarcastic tone. "Sammy sure as hell didn't make as much noise."

Old Christina quickly smacked her great grandson up the side of his head, as she balanced on her walking stick. Dean yelped in surprise.

"Language!" she scolded. "You're still on God's property, young man."

The family were exiting their local church, having just baptised their newest member. However, baby Christina didn't approve of the fuss, and cried through most of the initiation. Dean was further unimpressed, as his new-born sister decided to vomit on him again.

Mary was trying in vain to scrub the remaining mess on her son's shirt with a handkerchief the pastor gave him. Sammy was holding his sister, trying to amuse her by pulling funny faces.

"It's always me she throws up on. Does she hate me or something?" whined Dean, as he grimaced at his soiled shirt.

Mary rolled her eyes at her son, as she removed his tie from around his neck. She had tried her best to cover the bags under her eyes with some make-up, but her exhaustion was still visible to everyone around her. Baby Christina appeared to be a very light sleeper, and would wake at the slightest noise, plus she was suffering from colic.

"Of course, she doesn't hate you, Dean. Don't be silly. She's four weeks old, remember," Mary reminded him, with a soft smile. "She's just sensitive. All babies are."

Dean scoffed, as he squirmed around. He wanted to go home and change straightaway, just to get the damn shirt off. He could hear Sammy singing the Wheels on the Bus to their sister, which made him scowl further. What was he doing wrong?

"Don't pout, Dean," added Mary, as she continued to scrub at the shirt. "I would expect a better attitude from you. Honestly, you're twelve years old. You shouldn't be jealous of a baby."

Dean was mortified at the accusation. His eyes shifted around, as he began to stumble over his words.

"Me? Jealous? I'm not jealous," he stuttered. "Why would I be jealous?"

Mary sighed heavily, and raised a quizzical eyebrow at her son. Sammy was now singing the Ducktales theme to his sister. The tiny infant grunted in response, which made Sammy beam with pride.

"See! She likes Sammy," added Dean, sounding hurt. "He can't even sing!"

Sam gazed in their direction, having been made aware of his name being said. He tilted his head out of curiosity, before returning his attention back to the baby in his arms.

It was clear to Mary that Dean was jealous. Not jealous of the new baby, but of the bond forming between her and Sam. He felt left out.

"Look, well talk later, okay," she said, in a more softer tone.

John shook his head, having overheard the conversation. Old Christina was chattering away to the pastor, as she held onto John's arm for support. She was getting frailer these days. There was discussion on whether to move her to a nursing home. However, the stubborn old lady refused to move from her home. Lawrence had been her home for many years now. She had lived there since 1960, after moving all the way from Normal, Illinois. She raised John with her husband Eric, while John's mother Millie, ventured away to search for work to support her son.

"I'm just glad that your little daughter bears the name Millicent, rather than Henry as a middle name," remarked the geriatric, as she petted her grandson's arm. "Your mother would have been delighted, God rest her soul."

John bowed his head, as he chewed the inside of his mouth. His grandmother wasn't known to be sensitive, in fact she was often too blunt for people's liking. Bringing up dead people was always something she would do to kill any mood. Old Christina was never a popular face when he was at school either. She scolded him in front of everyone, for fluffing his one line at a Christmas pageant once. He was supposed to have said Frankincense, but was dared, as John claimed, to say Frankenstein instead. However, she always appeared more mellow in relaxed settings, compared to her mood swings in more crowded surroundings. His mother once told him that his grandma was different when his father was around.

"I will never forgive that no good son of mine, for choosing them, over you," she added. "Your grandfather was no better. I'm sure he knew where he went. It was because of him that my Henry got involved with them."

This nonsense again. Always whining or wittering on about strange things. No wonder he got picked on in Elementary school. John rolled his eyes, only for the elderly lady to yank his arm.

"Still, Christina Millicent Winchester is a fine name," stated the old lady, as they made their way carefully across the parking lot. "Wouldn't you agree, John?"

John gazed back at his family. Mary was once again cradling their daughter in her arms, as the boys raced each other towards the car. It was now afternoon, and judging by the fussing coming from his baby daughter, she was about to hit her daily crying session.

"I think that's why she keeps crying" John mumbled under his breath.

That evening, Christina's colic had hit its peak period. Mary paced back and forth, as she held her tiny baby against her shoulder, gently rubbing her back.

"I know, baby, I know," she consoled. "It's okay. Mama's here."

She lay Christina into her cradle at the foot of the bed. The new-born wailed, tucking her little legs up towards her tummy, her small hands in tight fists. Mary tried to sooth her baby, by massaging her tummy.

She gazed up to see Dean standing in the doorway. Mary smiled, despite the stress that was building up inside her.

"Is she okay?" asked the twelve-year-old. "Dad wanted to see if you needed help with her. He said he was gonna take her on a drive, if she keeps crying. The car engine seems to calm her down, he says."

Christina continued to cry, her face turning red.

"I might take his offer up," replied Mary. "It worked with you, when you were a baby."

Mary patted the bed, to which Dean wandered over and sat down. The boy gazed down at his baby sister, with deep concern.

"Why is she crying like that, anyway? She's not sick or anything, is she?" he questioned.

Mary continued to rub her daughter's tummy, to ease her distress.

"Some babies just go through this phase," she answered, as she peppered delicate kisses on her new-born daughter's forehead. "It'll pass, so don't you worry. That's my job."

Dean chewed his lip. Mary sighed again, before shivering at the sudden breeze that wafted into the room.

"So, are we gonna talk about what's been bothering you?" she quizzed, taking her eyes of her daughter for a moment.

Dean folded his arms, as his stubbornness started to show.

"I'm fine" he grumbled.

Mary groaned again. She was exhausted. Not only was she dealing with a colicky baby, a curious eight-year-old, a workaholic husband but now a moody preteen. Dean cleared his throat, as he traced his hands over the pattern of his parent's bedsheets.

"I don't think she likes me," he admitted, as he quickly glanced at his baby sister. "Sounds stupid, I know."

Mary cupped the side of her eldest child's face, with a free hand, as Christina continued to wriggle and squirmed around in her arms. Both were unaware of the small dim glow escaping from Christina's mouth. They didn't see the man in the trench coat standing over them either, with his index and middle finger gently pressed against the baby's forehead.

"Honey, she's just getting used to everything and everyone around her," she smiled kindly. "Don't take it to heart. She'll come around to you, just give her a little time."

Dean then blinked, as he returned his gaze to his sister. She wasn't crying anymore, and was letting out small snuffling noises instead. Dean smiled, relived that the racket had stopped for now. Mary showered her baby with kisses.

"Now, what was all that fuss about, huh? You're just as cranky as your big brother. Mama's gonna run you a nice warm bath, before your next feed," she cooed, as she cradled her daughter. "Then it's bed time, little lady."

Her attention was broken for a moment, when Sammy shrieked from downstairs:

"Mom! That stray cat is back. She's got kittens! Can we keep them, please!"

Mary handed Christina over to a startled Dean.

"Watch your sister for a moment, sweetie" she said.

Dean looked nervous, as he looked down at the baby, who gazed back at him with big eyes. She grunted. He moved position, with his back against the bedpost. Mary could be hear downstairs saying:

"Sammy, how many times? We can't adopt every animal from the streets"

Dean rolled his eyes, as he exhaled from his lips. This created a slight noise, that Christina found amusing. Her face muscles began to twitch.

"I think Sam forgets I'm allergic to cats" muttered Dean.

His eyes went wide, when he noticed Christina smiling at him. She hadn't smiled before. A large grin spread across Dean's face. This would surely give him bragging rights.

"I seem to make all the girls smile" he said, with a sense of cheeky confidence, as he took hold of his sister's hand.

The baby cooed, and grasped onto her brother's index finger. This was the first bonding experience Dean had shared with his sister, since she was born. He didn't count the multiple times she threw up on him, as a bonding experience, no matter what Sam said. Dean then frowned slightly before saying:

"Wait, you're not smiling because I told you I'm allergic to cats, are you?"

Christina smiled.

A:N Sorry for the long update. Working towards revamping the old Chris series, whilst suffering writers block and sleep deprivation from working long hours on nightshift.

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