December 1987
As Bobby emptied his Bud with a small, contented burp, laughter exploded from the other side of the table. He looked up in puzzlement, and into the grinning face of Sammy Winchester.
"You burped!" the boy informed him with undisguised delight.
"Uhm, yeah," he answered sheepishly. "You shouldn't... burp. It's... ah, rude."
In the seat next to him, Dean snorted and raised an incredulous eyebrow, an unsettling expression on an eight year old's face.
Feeling oddly flustered, Bobby busied himself with opening another beer, and wondered how John Winchester had ever talked him into, of all things, babysitting