Disclaimer Dean Ambrose is the property of the WWE and/or the actor / sports entertainer / superstar that portray him. This story is intended as tribute only and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights.

Original characters are the property of me, and the children of my own imagination. Any resemblance to any real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Dedication: This story is for psion53. And if she reads it, she'll know exactly why.

Neil and the Giant Tomato Plant

"I'm not sure I'm ready to handle this," Dean said, trying not to sound as nervous as he was feeling.

Cinnamon turned from the door she had been just about to open and looked over him. "We talked about this. I have to go back to work. You're staying here until the beginning of next year, and you agreed to watch Neil on these nights."

"Yeah, I know," Dean said, frowning. "But I'm new to this parent thing... what if I screw up?"

Cinnamon fought against rolling her eyes and instead forced herself to smile. "You're doing great with Neil. Seriously, you're super. And Neil is asleep. Chances are he won't wake up until tomorrow. So, just watch some TV or do whatever, and go to bed when you're tired. Neil is nine, he's not an infant, you don't have to worry about feeding or changing him."

Dean dragged his foot across the floor, like a child being told to do a particularly difficult chore and sighed. "What if he wakes up and has to go to the bathroom."

Cinnamon stared, trying to keep the look of exasperation off her face. "Then he'll go to the bathroom," she said. "Again, Dean, he's nine. He doesn't need his nappies changed."

"But he's got that cast on!" Dean protested. "It makes it hard for him to move, what if he gets up and really, really, has to go?"

He was looking into her eyes and Cinnamon could see the fear in there, the terror that he would screw up and something terrible would go wrong, and while her heart went out to him, she had already taken off the last two weeks to care for Neil, she had to get to work. If Dean hadn't decided to take some time off and stay with them, she'd have Jasper Coleman or one of the college girls she used for babysitters here, and none of them would have worried so much. "He's getting good on the crutches," she said, trying to sound casual, easy, like this was a breeze. The tone of voice that would install some confidence in him. "If he has to go, he'll get to the bathroom and go."

"But what if he wakes up and has to go really, really, bad?" Dean said, "Like so bad he can barely stand it?"

Don't roll your eyes, don't roll your eyes, Cinnamon ordered herself and out loud said, "Nobody has to go that bad."

"Says a girl who can cross her legs and hold it back," he muttered. "Not so easy for guys."

Cinnamon walked over, wrapped her arms around him and gave him a lingering kiss. "You will do just great, Dean. You have my cell number if you need it. Have some faith. You'll probably just watch some TV or read a book, and go to bed. You'll see, Neil hasn't woken up during the night for almost a week, he'll be fine."

He kissed her back, part of him wanting to start nibbling her neck, but knowing she was not going to put up with that right now. But when he broke away, he couldn't help but mumble, "Knowing my luck, this'll be the night he starts waking up again."

"You'll be fine." She drew away and headed for the door.

"If our kid is worse tomorrow, it'll be your fault," He continued.

"You'll be great."

"I'm a really sound sleeper," he pointed out.

"That's fine, he's a really good yeller," she countered.

"What if the house catches on fire?"

"We have the alarm, the fire department will be notified and the noise will wake you." Cinnamon opened the door. "You'll be great, love you, bye!" And before he could make another objection, she walked out the door, shut it firmly behind her, and headed for her car.

Frowning, Dean went and shot the deadbolt through. This was a good neighborhood, but you couldn't be too careful. Neil wasn't moving very fast and if someone broke in, the poor kid wouldn't be able to run very fast.

When he was done with the deadbolt, he went though the house and made sure all the windows were locked and the back door, too. He was tired, he had to admit. Neil and Cinnamon could be early risers, and he'd fallen into the pattern. Part of him wanted to just go to the master bedroom and flop into bed, but he was so tired he was afraid he'd fall into a deep sleep and that would mean Neil would have to scream for a long time before Dean would hear him.

Dean woke up to the sound of someone gasping. He sat upright, his shoulder protesting, reminding him that he'd hurt it way too many times in the past and it did not like laying on hard surfaces. His mind raced, trying to figure out where he was.

"Dad?" The small room suddenly filled with light. Neil's fingers were on the switch to the little lamp on his nightstand.

"What?" Dean asked, trying to sound casual.

"Were you sleeping on the floor?" Neil asked, brows furrowed in puzzlement.

"Uh...no." Dean rubbed his shoulder and looked around the room.

"Then why are you on the floor?" Neil asked, his head tipped to one side.

"Uh, I tripped." Dean nodded, warming up to the lie. "I heard you move and came running in and tripped."

"You came running in with a pillow and Mom's bedspread?"

"You're not buying it, are you?" Dean sighed.

"Uh, no," Neil said. "I'm not." He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

Dean scrambled to his feet. "Well, what I was doing in here isn't the point. The point is, I heard you. I heard you waking up and like any good parent, I was here for you. Are you okay?" He walked over to the bed, wincing as he always did when he saw the cast that looked so huge on his son's skinny leg and the splinted fingers on his right hand.

"I had a bad dream," Neil said, shrugging, trying to downplay his nightmare.

"About what?"

"The well." Neil sighed and struggled to sit up and swing his legs off the bed so he could stand. "I never dream about the good part, the rescue, just being down there. I hate it. And now I have to pee."

Hardly aware he was doing it, Dean helped Neil to his feet, slipping his crutches under his arm for him. Normally, Neil was pretty stubborn about things, insisting that he could "Do it himself," but he had been asleep and his body and mind weren't fully awake. "Do you dream about it, often?" Dean asked.

"Almost every night since I stopped the pain medicine." Neil let his father help him get to his feet.

Dean frowned as he walked with his son across the room. Neil had been off the painkillers at his own insistence four nights after he had come home from the hospital. He had only been taking them at night anyway, to help him sleep, but he finally told his folks he hated how they made him feel the next day. "They make me feel fuzzy," he explained. "And like I'm in cloud or something. Nothing is real. And I don't like it."

Being a paramedic, Cinnamon knew painkillers were optional. Being the son of a drug addict, Dean wanted to do anything he could to discourage his son from enjoying getting high. So, they started giving him a dose of Children's Motrin an hour before bed and until now, Dean thought it had been working just fine. As he helped him across the hall to the bathroom, he wondered if maybe they had been hasty.

"Uh, Dad?" Neil asked, as they walked into the small bathroom together.

"What?"

"I got this," Neil blushed slightly, indicating the toilet.

"Oh, sorry!" Dean backed out of the room. The first few days with the cast, Neil had needed a lot of help doing every day things, but he was learning how to do them now with the cast and the finger splints and he fought to keep those bits of independence fiercely. Dean was learning another parental lesson with this, sometimes you had to let your kid do things for himself. "Tell you what," he said, closing the door to give Neil his privacy. "I'll make some hot chocolate," I can make hot chocolate, right? I mean, it's not hard, right? Open an envelope, dump in the hot water? "Would you like that?"

"Yeah," Neil said. "And.." his voice trailed off.

"And what?" Dean asked.

"Can I have another dose?"

"Is the pain that bad?" Dean asked. He had learned that Neil was pretty good at hiding pain. Something that would no doubt benefit him if he grew up to be a wrestler like he said he wanted. However, it was not always a good thing for a child to be doing. And it meant when he did complain about pain, that his parents took him very seriously.

"Yeah."

"When did you take your last dose?"

"Around eight."

"Okay, we'll see."

Ten minutes later, Neil was back in bed and Dean had brought in two cups of hot chocolate and another dose of Children's Motrin. It was 2:00 in the morning and the directions said the dose could be repeated every six to eight hours, so he felt safe with that. What Dean didn't like was that it seemed to take about an hour or so to take effect, which was why they dosed him an hour before bedtime. Parents should have special abilities, Dean thought, not for the first time. We should be able to take our kid's pain and give it to ourselves instead. Why haven't we evolved to be able to do that? He put both cups of hot chocolate on the nightstand and handed Neil the cup of liquid Motrin, berry flavored. or at least that's what the bottle said. Dean had tasted a drop of it once and found it tasted more like something that would squirt out of a berry's ass if a berry had an ass. Neil drank it down without a complaint though. When that was finished, Dean took his hot chocolate off the nightstand and handed it to him.

"Thanks," Neil accepted it and began to sip, gratefully. "This is pretty good."

"I used milk instead of water," Dean said, then added, "The directions said it was okay."

"I like it this way." Neil took another sip, getting a chocolate mustache around his mouth, something Dean privately found absolutely adorable, but knew Neil would hate it if he mentioned it. "It's creamier."

Score one for me, Dean thought, taking a sip of his own. Neil was right, it was creamier. He made a mental note to ask Cinnamon why she didn't use milk for hot chocolate all the time. When she was in a good mood, and not likely to take it as criticism. "Pain still bad?"

Neil shrugged. "I can manage, you can go back to bed... like in Mom's room, you don't have to sleep on the floor."

"Nah, I'm fine," Dean said, "I'm not going to be able to fall back asleep for an hour, so maybe we can do something." One hour and the pain med will be kicking in and he'll probably fall asleep. Keep his mind off the pain until then.

"What should we do?"

Dean thought about his own childhood and what he had done when he'd woken up in the middle of the night in pain. Well, his mother was never much of a help, so he was usually forced to deal with the problem himself. He would sometimes try to watch the broken down black and white TV in his room, the one that only got two channels. Or, sometimes he'd read. Dean had learned at an early age that libraries were good places to hang out when he had to get out of the house. They were free and there was a lot of entertainment in the form of books. He knew Neil loved to read, and he knew he and Cinnamon often read books that were advanced for his age together, so she could explain things to him. But, he didn't want to read a book to him that he and Cinnamon were sharing, that seemed wrong. "Maybe I could tell you a story?" He suggested, hoping Neil wouldn't find the idea babyish.

"What story?" Neil asked, looking interested.

I guess nine isn't too old to hear a story, Dean thought. "Uh let me think... your Uncle Roman told me a story once."

"Really?" Neil tipped his head to one side. "Aren't you a little old for Uncle Roman to be telling you stories?"

"It was a really bad night," Dean admitted. "We were driving and I was exhausted and he told me a story to keep me awake. It was the night Shield broke up."

"Oh," Neil nodded, immediately seeming to understand. "So, tell me the story."

Dean thought for a moment, then remembered that the story had ended with Seth being dressed up like a Diva with purple and pink dyed hair having to take on every single member of the WWE roster single handed after having been castrated with a pair of rusty gardening sheers. It had been a most enjoyable story at the time, but he, Roman and Seth had patched things up, and he was pretty sure that story would not be Cinnamom approved. "Uh, no... now that I remember, it was a pretty boring story."

Neil's eyes narrowed, not buying his excuse at all. "It had a lot of sex and unnecessary violence in it, didn't it?"

"Maybe," Dean admitted, wondering if castrating someone with rusty garden sheers counted as sex, or just violence. "Uh.. how about Jack and the Beanstalk?" It was one of the few fairy tales he knew pretty well. About the only book he had owned as a toddler was a copy of Jack and the Beanstalk. He didn't know how he had gotten it, it had always been there, always beaten up. He remembered he would follow his mother around the house with the book, begging her to read it to him. Most of the time, she refused, but every once in awhile, she would give in and read it to him. Or, sometimes one of the many "relatives" that were always crashing in their place would read it to him too. Not many people knew this, it was something for some reason he wanted to keep private as a child, but he had pretty much taught himself to read with that book. He had wanted to be able to enjoy the story any time he wanted, so he had forced himself to memorize every single word and studied the letters and the words until he knew how they worked. When he finally was old enough for school, his teachers were amazed at how quickly he learned to read, not knowing he had been self taught.

"That's a kid's story," Neil said, rolling his eyes and taking another sip of his hot chocolate.

"Yeah, you're right," Dean said. "How about I grab your history book and we can work on having you catch up on the schoolwork you missed."

"I haven't heard Jack and the Beanstalk in years," Neil said hastily. "I'd love to hear it again.

Dean smiled. "I thought so." He shifted on the bed, so he was lying next to Neil, leaning against the headboard. Carefully, he slipped an arm around his son, encouraging the kid to cuddle up to him, which he did very easily. Wow, we've made serious progress, Dean thought. He put his hot chocolate mug, which was almost empty, on the nightstand. Neil drained his cup and handed it to Dean, letting Dean do the same to his. "All set?" Dean asked, kissing the top of Neil's head.

"All set," Neil said.

"Once upon a time there was a poor widow-"

"Does she have to be a widow?" Neil asked.

"She's always a widow." Dean was puzzled by this.

"Fairy tales always have widows in it. Like only widows are poor. Let's do something else!" Neil twisted his neck so he could look at his father.

"Okay," Dean said, a bit hesitantly. "What should she be, then?"

"A wrestler," Neil suggested.

"A poor Diva?"

"Yeah, maybe she got injured so she can't wrestle anymore, and that's why she's poor. 'Cause she never went to college first so she'd have something to fall back on in case the wrestling didn't work out."

Dean stared at him. "You look just like me, but you are so your mother's son. Okay then,"

"Once upon a time there was a poor unemployed Diva who had an only son named Jack-"

"Does his name have to be Jack?" Neil frowned. "There's a kid in school named Jack and he cuts these really smelly wet sounding farts during lunch. I hate that name."

"Okay, what do you suggest we call him?"

"I don't know, anything but Jack."

"How about Neil?"

Neil nodded. "That works."

"Okay then, let's try this again."

"Once upon a time there was a poor unemployed Diva who had an only son named Neil. She was very poor, for times had been hard, and Neil was too young to work. Almost all the furniture of the little cottage had been sold to buy bread, until at last there was nothing left worth selling. Only the good cow, Milky White, remained, and she gave milk every morning, which they took to market and sold-"

"Why a cow?"

"What do you mean, why a cow? Cows give milk."

"Goats give milk, why can't it be a goat?"

"Does it matter?"

"I like goats better than cows."

"Fine." Dean tried not to grit his teeth.

Only the good goat, Milky White remained and she gave milk every morning which they took to market and sold. But one sad day Milky White gave no milk, and then things looked bad indeed.

"Never mind, mother," said Neil. "We must sell Milky White. Trust me to make a good bargain, "and away he went to the market.

For some time he went along very sadly,-but after a little he quite recovered his spirits.

"I may as well ride as walk," said he; so instead of leading the goat by the halter,-"

"You can't ride a goat."

"You're the one who insisted it be a goat instead of a cow, you have to live with it."

"Why couldn't Neil just keep walking along side of the goat?"

"Because that's not the way the story goes. We'll say it was an extra large goat and Neil was an extra small boy."

"All right, but it's kind of silly."

"I may as well ride as walk," said he; so instead of leading the goat by the halter, he jumped on her back, and so he went whistling along until he met a butcher.

"Good morning,"said the butcher.
"Good morning, sir," answered Neil.
"Where are you going?" said the butcher.
"I am going to market to sell the goat."

"It's lucky I met you," said the butcher. "You may save yourself the trouble of going so far."

With this, he put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out five curious-looking beans.

"Why beans?"

"Because the story is Jack and the Beanstalk. You can't have a beanstalk without beans."

"Why does it have to be a beanstalk, why can't it be something else?"

"Like what?" Dean tried not to look bewildered.

"Tomato seeds," Neil said. "I like tomatoes."

"Fine, tomato seeds then!"

"What do you call these?" he said.

"tomato seeds," said Neil.

Yes," said he, "tomato seeds, but they're the most wonderful tomato seeds that ever were known.If you plant them overnight, by the next morning they'll grow up and reach the sky. But to save you the trouble of going all the way to market, I don't mind exchanging them for that goat of yours."

"Done!" cried Neil, who was so delighted with the bargain that he ran all the way home to tell his mother how lucky he had been.

But oh! how disappointed the poor Diva was."Off to bed with you!" she cried; and she was so angry that she threw the tomato seeds out of the window into the garden. So poor Neil went to bed without any supper, and cried himself to sleep.

"Story Neil is kind of a wuss, isn't he?"

"What do you mean?"

"Okay, it would suck, I mean, be awful, to go to bed without supper, but to then cry yourself to sleep?"

"Neil and his mom are poor, so I'm sure they get just enough food to survive, so missing a meal really sucks."

"If they need food that bad, that missing one meal could hurt their health, then Diva Mom is a lousy mother."

"She's very upset, her son just pretty much gave away the only thing of value they owned!"

"Sometimes Mom has been really mad at me, but she never didn't feed me."

"Can I continue?"

"Sure, this is good, I like this version." Neil snuggled closer to Dean.

When he woke up the next morning, the room was almost dark; and Neil jumped out of bed and ran to the window to see what was the matter. The sun was shining brightly outside, but from the ground right up beside his window there was growing a great tomato plant, which stretched up and up as far as he could see, into the sky.

"I'll just see where it leads to," thought Neil, and with that he stepped out of the window on to the tomato tomato plant, and began to climb upwards. He climbed up and up, till after a time his mother's cottage looked a mere speck below, but at last the stalk ended, and he found himself in a new and beautiful country. A little way off there was a great castle, with a broad road leading straight up to the front gate. But what most surprised Neil was to find a beautiful maiden suddenly standing beside him.

"Goodmorning, ma'am," said he, very politely..

"Good morning, Neil," said she, and Neil was more surprised than ever, for he could not imagine how she had learned his name. But he soon found that she knew a great deal more about him than his name; for she told him how, when he was quite a little baby, his father, a gallant knight, had been slain by the giant who lived in yonder castle, and how his mother, in order to save Neil, had been obliged to promise never to tell the secret.

"What was her name?"

"It doesn't matter, she's only in the story for this little bit."

"The goat wasn't in the story very long, but the goat had a name. She should have a name."

Trying not to roll his eyes, Dean thought for a moment, then said, "Bailey. Her name is Bailey."

"Do you think Bailey is pretty?"

"Not as pretty as your mom."

"Good answer, go on."

"All that the giant has is yours," Bailey said, and then disappeared quite as suddenly as she came.

"She must be a fairy," thought Neil.

As he drew near to the castle, he saw the giant's wife standing at the door.

"If you please, ma'am," said he, "would you kindly give me some breakfast? I have had nothing to eat since yesterday."

Now, the giant's wife, although very big and very ugly, had a kind heart, so she said:"Very well, little man, come in; but you must be quick about it, for if my husband, the giant, finds you here, he will eat you up, bones and all."

So in Neil went, and the giant's wife gave him a good breakfast, but before he had half finished it there came a terrible knock at the front door, which seemed to shake even the thick walls of the castle-

"Doesn't the giantess have a name?" Neil asked.

"The story doesn't say!"

"She should have a name, too. She gave story Neil breakfast, I'm sure while he was eating, the exchanged names. What's her name?"

"Eva, her name is Eva."

"You think Eva is an ugly giantess?"

"It's just a name!"

"Okay, don't get touchy, Dad, I'm just asking."

"Dearie me, that is my husband!" said Eva, in a terrible fright; "we must hide you somehow," and she lifted Neil up and popped him into the empty kettle.

No sooner had Eva opened the door than her husband roared out:

"Fee, fi, fo, fum,
I smell the blood of an Englishman;
Be he alive, or be he dead,
I'll grind his bones to make my bread!"

"Why doesn't he just talk like regular people?"

"Because he's a giant. Giants talk differently!"

"Eva doesn't talk in rhymes. How come he does?"

Dean shook his head for a moment, giving himself time to think. "Because he always wanted to write greeting cards."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Neil shrugged. "Okay. Go on."

Nonsense!" said Eva, "you must be mistaken. It's the ox's hide you smell."

So he sat down, and ate up the greater part of the ox. When he had finished he said,"Wife, bring me my money-bags." So his wife brought him two full bags of gold, and the giant began to-

"Dad, what was-"

"André! The Giant's name was André!"

"Okay, no need to get so excited."

So André began to count his money. But he was so sleepy that his head soon began to nod, and then he began to snore, like the rumbling of thunder. Then Neil crept out, snatched up the two bags, and though André's dog-

"Cujo, the dog's name was Cujo!"

"I didn't ask what the dog's name was."

"Well, just so you know, it was Cujo."

-barked loudly,he made his way down the tomato plant back to the cottage before the giant, André awoke.

Neil and his Diva mother were now quite rich; but it occurred to him one day that he would like to see how matters were going on at André castle. So while his mother was away at market, he climbed up, and up, and up, and up, until he got to the top of the tomato plant again.

Eva was standing at the door, just as before, but she did not know Neil, who, of course, was more finely dressed than on his first visit. "If you please, ma'am," said he, "will you give me some breakfast?"

"You'd recognize me, even if I was in a suit, wouldn't you?"

"Of course I would.'

"So, why doesn't Eva recognize Jack?"

Dean barely had to think this time, "because female giants are near sighted." When he saw Neil's mouth open, he hastily added, "They don't make contacts big enough for giantesses and Eva was too vain to wear glasses!" He was getting the hang of this.

"She'll never be able to get her driver's license then."

"She doesn't care, she lives in a castle in the sky."

"Good point."

"Run away," said she, "or my husband, André the giant will eat you up, bones and all. The last boy who came here stole two bags of gold, so off with you!" But Eva had a kind heart, and after a time she allowed Neil to come into the kitchen, where she set before him enough breakfast to last him a week. Scarcely had he begun to eat than there was a great rumbling like an earthquake, and Eva had only time to bundle Neil into the oven when in came AndréNo sooner was he inside theroom than he roared:

"Fee, fi, fo, fum.
I smell the blood of an Englishman;
Be he alive, or be he dead,
I'll grind his bones to make my bread!"

But his wife told him he was mistaken, and after breakfasting he called out: "Wife, bring the little brown hen!" Eva went out and brought in a little brown hen, which she placed on the table.

"Lay!" said Andréand the hen at once laid a golden egg. "Lay!" said André a second time; and she laid another golden egg. "Lay!" saidAndré the giant a third time; and she laid a third golden egg.

"Neil, could you stop giggling?"

"Sorry Dad, but he keeps saying 'lay,' it's funny."

"How do you know it's funny?"

"Cory giggles every time someone says lay, so I asked him and he told me why it was funny."

"Actually, lay isn't the funny word, it's laid."

"Close enough."

"I need to talk to Cory, he's a bad influence on you."

"He'd love that. Not sure his mother would."

"His mother is a bitch."

"What did you say, Dad?"

"I'll bet your leg is starting to itch."

"Oh, thanks for reminding me."

"Can I go on?"

"Sure, I'm enjoying this. You tell good stories."

That will do for to-day," said he, and stretched himself out to go to sleep. As soon as he began to snore, Neil crept out of the oven, went on tiptoe to the table, and, snatching up the little brown hen, made a dash for the door. Then the hen began to cackle, and André began to wake up; but before he was quite awake, Neil had escaped from the castle,and, climbing as fast as he could down the tomato plant, got safe home to his mother's cottage.

The little brown hen laid so many golden eggs that Neil and the Diva had now more money than they could spend. But Neil was always thinking about the tomato plant; and one day he crept out of the window again, and climbed up, and up, and up, and up, until he reached the top.

This time, you may be sure, he was careful not to be seen; so he crept round to the back of the castle, and when Eva went out he slipped into the kitchen and hid himself in the oven. In cameAndré the giant, roaring louder than ever:

"Fee, fi, fo, fum.
I smell the blood of an Englishman;
Be he alive, or be he dead.
I'll grind his bones to make my bread!"

But Eva was quite sure that she had seen no little boys that morning; and after grumbling a great deal, André sat down to breakfast. Even then he was not quite satisfied, for every now and again he would say:

"Fee, fi, fo, fum
I smell the blood of an Englishman;"

"I'm not surprised André never ended up working for Hallmark, he doesn't have any poems but that one."

"He might have written others, that's just the only one he's saying now."

"I doubt it, I'm betting André was the giant in the little bus."

"That's not very PC, son."

"Yeah, I know. Please don't tell Mom."

And once he got up and looked in the kettle. But, of course, Neil was in the oven all the time!

"I wonder what would have happened if Eva had come in and turned on the oven? Like if she had to make cookies or something?"

"Then Neil would have been burned to a crisp, and this story would be over," Dean said, half tempted to have Eva the Giantess decide to go into a baking frenzy.

"That would be a terrible ending."

"Yes, but it would be a quick one."

When André had finished, he called out: "Wife, bring me the golden harp!" So she brought in the golden harp, and placed it on the table. "Sing!" said André and the harp at once began to sing the most beautiful songs that ever were heard. It sang so sweetly thatAndré the giant soon fell fast asleep; and then Neil crept quietly out of the oven,-

"Hey, wait a minute!"

"What?"

"If he was in the oven, it must have been a giant oven."

"Well, yeah, it was in a giant's castle, so it was a giant oven."

"How did he get in and out? The door to a giant oven would be really heavy."

"Neil was a very strong kid. He lifted weights."

"I dunno," Neil looked at Dean, his expression skeptical. "It seems pretty far fetched."

"We're talking about a giant tomato stalk that leads to a land of clouds, where a giant lives, and you're having trouble buying the oven door?"

"Well, yeah."

"Okay, how about this, there was a gap in the oven seal and Neil was creeping in and out using that."

"Still kind of stupid, but I'll buy it."

"Thank you. May I continue?"

"Yeah."

-and going on tiptoe to the table, seized hold of the golden harp. But the harp at once called out:"Master! master!" and André woke up just in time to catch sight of Neil running out of the kitchen-door.With a fearful roar, he seized his oak-tree club, and dashed after Neil, who held the harp tight, and ran faster than he had ever run before. André the giant, brandishing his club, and taking terribly long strides, gained on Neil at every instant, and he would have been caught if the giant had not slipped over a boulder. Before he could pick himself up, Neil began to climb down the tomato plant and when André arrived at the edge he was nearly half-way to the cottage. André began to climb down too; but as soon as Neil saw him coming, he called out: "Mother, bring me an axe!" and the Diva hurried out with a chopper. Neil had no sooner reached the ground than he cut the tomato plant right in two. Down came André the giant with a terrible crash, and that, you may be sure, was the end of him. And Neil and his mother, the Diva, grew very rich, and lived happy ever after. The end.

"Why do fairy tales always end with 'and they lived happily ever after?' Nobody lives happily ever after. Even if the one problem ended, like now Neil and his mom have money, they'll still have other problems. It's impossible to live happily ever after."

Dean blinked, fighting off a sudden headache. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "That's just how most fairy tales end. I'm sure Neil and his mom had their troubles, but they were able to work it out."

Neil shook his head, but he didn't look too unhappy. "I liked that. Can you tell me another one?"

"Aren't you sleepy?"

Neil shrugged. "A little, but I could listen to another story.

Dean thought for a bit. Jack and the Beanstalk was the only fairy tale he knew by heart, but he knew the basic story of more. And with Neil here, was it really important to know exactly how it went? "How about I tell you the one about Goldilocks and the Three bears?"

"Meh," Neil shrugged.

"How about I tell you the story of GoldiRae and The Shield?" Dean suggested instead.

"Yeah, that sounds pretty good."

It was 5:30 in the morning when Cinnamon unlocked the door and crept into the house. Dan, one of the other paramedics had relieved her two hours early, knowing she was worried about leaving Neil alone for the first time since the accident. She had promised him she would make it up to him, when he needed someone to cover him. It wasn't that she didn't trust Dean, she did, but he'd been so worried and Neil was injured, she was a little anxious, but that was to be expected. Once she saw that everything had gone well tonight, she would be more relaxed. But for this first night, she was grateful to Dan.

The house was quiet, which she expected. Usually Dean and Neil didn't wake up until around 6 or 7. She crept down the hall quietly, and opened Neil's door to check on him.

Neil was lying in bed, but so was Dean. Dean's arm was around his son, and Neil was curled up, his head on Dean's chest, both of them sound asleep. As she entered the room, still on tiptoes, she noticed the comforter from the master bedroom and a pillow on the floor. Dean and Neil were on top of Neil's covers, and the room was a little cool, so she picked up the comforter and draped it over both of them, smiling at her boys.

She leaned over and turned out the light on Neil's nightstand and picked up the two mugs that were sitting there. Then, as quietly as possible, she crept from the room so as not to disturb them.

The End.

Author's Notes: Before anyone accuses me of plagiarism, the story Dean told Neil was not written by me, it's Jack in the Beanstalk, modified (of course). If you don't know the story of Jack in the Beanstalk, I'm shocked. It's very, very, old. So old that it's now in the public domain, which is why I can print it here, and it's completely legal.

If you liked this, please let me know! I really admit to having enjoyed writing this story and I'd really love to continue this as a series, but not if no one is interested in reading them.

Thank you!