Disclaimer: My Mum says no... and supposidly she's always right...

A/N: I wanted to post a different one shot today, but it's not quite right yet. So I've decided to pull out another what if that I'd written some time ago. Haha, you guys seemed to like the last one that I wrote. Thanks for all the reviews people, and I'm glad you're enjoying this!
(just an added note; i just read this one over... and i still love the ending of it. haha... is that a bad thing?)

Title: Sammy
Genre: In a way it's angst. In a way not-- it's hard to tell...
Summary: A nice what if story about if John was able to save Mary, and not Sam...

Sammy

"Hi," John forced on a smile and sat beside Mary in the rocking swing which had been attached to the porch five years earlier.

"Oh," Mary was clearly lost in thoughts moments before and forced on her own smile now, "Hi John. How's it going?"

"Good," John placed a loving hand on Mary's shoulder, "Supper should be done in about an hour."

"Good."

"Mary…" John paused as Mary placed her head down; concealing her face, "Mary, are you alright?"

Mary looked directly at him now, tears swimming in her eyes, "He'd be twenty-two today, you know that?"

John himself looked down at his stocking feet. Of course he knew that. How could he forget? Little Sammy would be twenty-two that day. Twenty-two! The young child was stolen from them in a storm of fire when he was only six months old. John had tried; God knows he tried. But all he could do was grab Mary; pinned to the ceiling in such a gruesome way before the crib which John's youngest boy was crying from burst into flames. Then the cries stopped. There wasn't a day that passed that John wondered what would have happened if only he had grabbed Sammy first. If only he had made sure he was safe and then gone for Mary. But that was near twenty-two years earlier, and the aging Winchester knew there was nothing he could do about it now.

"Do you want to talk about it?" John finally spoke up; his voice quivering slightly.

Mary leaned into her husband comfortably, "I bet he'd hate the name Sammy by now," a small chuckle escaped her, "And I bet that would make Dean call him it all the more."

"What's wrong with Sammy?" John questioned.

"Oh come on John," Mary smiled, "You remember how much you hated people calling you Johnny. Sammy would be twenty-two now; not a little boy anymore."

John thought about this, "You're right. I bet Dean would call him that."

"He'd be a big brother," Mary's voice suddenly softened.

"He still is," John insisted, "Just because his little brother was only around for six months doesn't mean that he stopped being a big brother."

"True," Mary pushed herself gently in the swing, "I wish Dean had a little brother to protect though. He was so angry in school all the time. It was all we could do to get him to graduate high school," she paused, "Do you think Sammy would have done well?"

"Of course," John gave a light laugh, "One of them was bound to. Sammy would have got great grades, went to college, became a lawyer and married his girl."

Mary joined in his laugh, "And lived in a white picket fence with two point five kids?"

"The American life," John agreed, "Completely normal."

"I bet you're right," Mary spoke, "Even… even for the small amount of time he was with us, I could tell he was a textbook baby. Always slept when he was supposed to, always had his feedings four hours apart. He was perfect."

John's insides squirmed. Every year he felt the same way. And every year he apologized.

"Mary…"

"John, it wasn't your fault," Mary shook her head dismissively, "I've told you that many times. It's fate. Things could have been much worse that night. The fire could have got Dean as well. Or you."

"Or you," John's voice was soft.

"Or me," Mary agreed, "We have two sons John. One of them just… went before us. Dean is still here, and he's been a handful enough growing up."

"I remember..." John said, "I can still recall when he was eight, and first asked about Sammy. Do you?"

"Yeah," Mary nodded, watching some blue-jays play in the birdbath, "He asked where Sammy was. I asked him what he remembered, and all he said was that there was lots of fire, and that it was hot. We tried to explain to him that Sammy wasn't going to be coming back, and I think he cried for over an hour."

"He felt better though…" John remembered, "Later."

Nearly a minute passed in silence before Mary spoke again.

"I miss him John."

"I know Mary, I know," John comforted, and rubbed Mary's shoulder, "But it's ok now. He's not hurting."

Again, a long pause came before Mary broke the silence, "Jackie Johnson is going to be coming over tomorrow afternoon. She said she'd show me how to prune the flowers so they'll bloom better."

"That's great," John knew that Mary was done talking about Sammy, and knew better than to bring him up again, "I can talk to Rob about helping me fix up the steps on this porch. I can't tell you how many times I've ripped open one of my socks on the splintered wood."

Mary sat up more and chuckled, "That's why I got you those slippers for Christmas silly. Wear them and you won't ruin your socks. Our pay checks barely bring in enough money to cover your little 'fixing projects', never mind a new package of socks every two weeks."

John smiled, "Yes Dear," he looked at his watch, "I should go check on supper."

As he got up Mary too looked at her watch, "It's nearly five. Did Dean say if he was going to make it for dinner today?"

John stopped by the door and looked at Mary, "He said he'd be here around six. He's meeting someone named Meg at the bar downtown. She said she knows something about the Demon."

The End