Disclaimer: Aww crap... if I start repeating ways of saying no, will you guys even notice?

A/N: Howdy people! Ok-- todays one shot... no warning really needed. It is one where Sam is fricken two years old, so it was fun to write. Again, yes, I love good guy John, so he, obviously is in this. Neither Sam nore Dean (who is seven years old) know anything about the supernatural world. It was a fun little thing that I came up with quite some time back.
Just a little pleading here-- can you guys shoot out some ideas for one shots? I've been copying every one of them, and have finished most of them-- and you all have such great ideas! Thanks so much! Well-- enjoy!

Title: Truth Be Told
Genre: There's a lot of everything in this; angst, some fluff...
Summary: John is still struggling with his wife's death and everything happening when, one day, he leaves seven year old Dean alone with his baby brother for just a few minutes...

Truth Be Told

For one; Dean didn't want to watch Sam. For two; his Dad couldn't tell him what to do! He was seven years old. When his Dad told him to watch Sammy for five minutes while he went to the store, there was no way he would do it without at least getting something out of it.

"Can ya get me something?" Dean stood by the door as his Dad put his jacket on.

"I tell you what Sport, I'll get you one treat," John's eyes sparkled, "If, and only if you watch Sammy and finish packing up those books in the living room."

"The books?" Dean played with the end of his shirt around his finger.

"Yes," John sighed, "Dean, we're moving in less than a week, now please, I want everything packed up by Thursday."

Dean pondered this agreement for a moment, "Alight Dad. But it better be a good treat," he paused, "And something for Sammy too."

"Don't worry about what it will be," John winked, "and I always get Sammy something if you get something."

"Ok," Dean put on a grin.

"If there's any problems, Mr. and Mrs. Peters are next door," John reminded as he headed out the front door, "I won't be longer than ten minutes."

"Ok Dad!" Dean called out the door.

John Winchester got into his trusty black Impala and started it up. Something had felt off that day, and try as the man did, he couldn't shake the feeling. Maybe it was memories from the night Mary was killed; it had been almost exactly two years. Counselors had been talking to John weekly to try and help him cope. The stubborn Winchester still wasn't sure whether that had been a good idea; pretty much anything he'd told the grief councilor had been claimed to be fabrication of his imagination.

His wife pinned to the ceiling was the one that hurt John the most. He was sure of what he'd seen that night. Or was he? Demons and ghosts were something that Dean read about in his comic and adventure books; not something in real life. At least that's what the counselors told him, and finally, after nearly two years John was starting to think it was true. Which is why when they suggested that John moved away from the home and start anew, he decided to do such a thing.

One of the more embarrassing things that they told John to do was write in a journal to help express his feelings of grief. Reluctant at first, John finally decided to do this seemingly high school girl thing if nothing else than to help his boys. And so now John Winchester drove towards the corner store to pick up a treat for his sons and to pick out a journal to start his new life in.

Unknown to him the events that were happening in his home…

"Dean," Sam walked innocently into the kitchen where Dean was searching the fridge for something to drink.

"Hi Sammy," Dean smiled down at his brother.

Sam's eyes were still half closed from his recently awoken nap. His mass of curly brown hair stuck out at odd angles as his yellow t-shirt was half tucked into his twisted jean shorts.

"Where's Daddy?" Sam's small, tired voice came out.

"He went to the store for a few minutes," Dean successfully found a container of juice and took a swig from it, "And he's going to bring us back a treat!"

Sam's eyes widened in excitement and a smile came to his face.

"But we gotta pack up the books," Dean frowned, "Wanna help Sammy?"

"Yeah!" Sam bounced into the living room.

"We gotta put all these books in the box," Dean motioned to a large pile of books on the floor, "So you give them to me, and I'll put them in."

Sam crouched down and carefully picked up a large book.

"Sammy, pick up smaller books," Dean frowned as his little brother struggled to get into a standing position.

No sooner had the toddler done this than the lights suddenly turned out, and Dean heard a thump of Sam dropping the book to the floor.

"Dean!" Sam cried out, and immediately Dean sensed the tears coming down his baby brothers face.

The room was suddenly dark, and Dean couldn't even see Sam two feet away from him, "S-Sammy… it's ok--"

His heart pounded in his chest, and Dean took a tentative step forwards; stubbing his toe painfully against a large book. Sam's sobs became louder, and Dean felt his own tears springing to his eyes.

Why was it so dark!?

"S-Sammy, it's ok," Dean's voice quivered, "The p-power just went out. I'll find you. You j-just have to keep talking Sammy."

Sam's voice was barely audible through his tears, "D-Dean…"

Dean was about to make a reply when he glanced into the darkness and saw a white mist twirl and move like an eerie dance. A cold feeling came in the pit of the seven year olds stomach and he knew that whatever it was, it was bad. The mist moved closer and closer, and Dean's own tears came down his face as he frantically tried to find Sam.

"No… no…" Dean gasped out, the thing coming closer, "please… no… Sammy…"

"Hey!" suddenly a loud booming voice came out, and immediately the lights came back on; the mist disappearing.

Dean looked quickly at the door and saw his Dad standing there; eyes wide.

"Dean!" John cried out, "Sammy! Are you two alright?"

"Daddy!" Sam cried out, getting up and running into his Dad's open arms.

John held onto his youngest son in a tight embrace, his own heart racing. His hand rubbed up and down the two year olds back to try and stop the sobs that continued to come from his small body.

"Shh, it's alright Sammy," John soothed, "You're ok. It's ok."

Sam clung onto John tightly.

"Dean," John's voice cracked as he looked down at his oldest son, who remained half sitting on the floor, "son, are you ok?"

Dean wordlessly nodded.

"Are you hurt?"

"No," Dean got up and walked over to his Dad, "I'm ok."

Balancing a still crying Sam in one hand, John wrapped his arm around his other son, rubbing his shoulder for a moment before moving back to look at his tear filled eyes.

"It was just a power outage," John said with a forced smile, "It's ok."

"I couldn't find Sammy," Dean's voice was small, "I heard him crying, but I couldn't find him."

"I know, it's alright," John's voice was soft and comforting.

"Is he ok?" Dean peered up at Sam who was molded into his Dad's chest.

"He's ok," John pulled Sam back a little to look at his red, tearstained face, "You're ok, right Sammy?"

Sam gave a loud hiccough before nodding his head. John crouched down and coaxed Sam onto the ground.

"Alright," John looked at both of his boys; each with fear and tears still in their eyes, "Dean, why don't you take Sammy into the kitchen. There's a bag on the counter with two ice cream cones in it that I bet you'd both love."

"Ok," Dean's voice wavered only a moment as he looked at Sam, "Do you want some ice cream Sammy?"

A small smile came to Sam's lips as he nodded, "Yeah."

"Come on," Dean took Sam's hand and lead him into the kitchen.

John stood in the living room, and stared at the scattered boxes and books and half packed things. It would be many years before Dean Winchester admitted to his Dad what he saw in the living room that day. It would be even more years before John told Dean that he, too, saw the presence in the room when he walked into the house.

It would only be weeks, however, before John's newly bought journal would be started…

'I went to Missouri and I learned the truth…'

The End