Abby squirmed in the spot where Sam had set her down. Dean and their father were more physical disciplinarians, but Sam wanted her to have better childhood memories than he did. Since there wasn't much he could do about the world she was born into, the least he could do was make moments like this a little less painful.

Dean stood looking out the window, watching… waiting to get a glimpse of Andrea again. He liked what he saw, and he liked the challenge. No, it wasn't love. If he were honest with himself, he wasn't sure he was capable of loving someone that way again after New Orleans. He loved his brother and sister, but it wasn't the same thing. Not entirely.

He looked down at the sofa cushion that held little Abby. Her hair seemed to be lighter than normal, but that was probably due to the blood from earlier. She hadn't showered yet, but it had been rinsed from her hair to help make the following ten minutes more tolerable for everyone. He never really understood color theory, but Abby's hair wasn't normal to begin with. So, what he did understand went right out the window.

It all started the same week she began exhibiting the very supernatural powers they hunted as a family. Her dark brown straight hair changed to silky, shimmering, greenish-blue curls when touched by blood. And if Sam had been paying attention, he would have noticed this change a lot sooner.

He started going through two bags of clothing. Hers first. As Dean sifted through the child's bag, Sam worked on his laptop. Even tried fixing his phone during the times he had to wait for the different windows to load.

Minutes counted down on the microwave Sam was using as a timer.

"Here," Dean said, passing off a handful of clothing for Sam to take.

"What's this for?"

"For you to wear after your shower… unless you don't think you'd fit in a size eight Kim Possible nightdress."

"She can wait, Dean. It's called time out for a reason."

"Yeah… that doesn't work with her. Dad tried the gentle parenting thing."

"What'd he do? Put her in a chair, wait five minutes, and say it wasn't working?"

Sam followed his brother's glance toward the little stinker who was so bored that she was now on her back, her feet against the wall, and her head was hanging off the front edge of the cushion.

"Well, it certainly wasn't until the walking bumper car came around. And you call that sitting still for ten minutes?"

"Well, I'm certainly not gonna take her to the playground when I trusted her with my cell phone only for it to break soon after."

"I told you it was a bad idea."

"When, Dean? When did you tell me it was a bad idea to let her play games on my phone?"

"How 'bout when she broke your laptop with the glitter bombs. Or when she tripped in the library last week and smashed their computer to smithereens along with knocking over five rows of bookshelves."

Sam looked back at his screen before responding. The child's change of hair color still hadn't phased him yet. "She was bored, Dean. We both know what happens when this kid gets bored. I said she needed something to keep her head engaged."

"Things she did today? That's what used to happen," Dean corrected. If he had to hazard a guess from the confusion written on his brother's face. "She hasn't shown you what changed, has she?" His grin was enough to at least make his younger sibling nervous. "All you have to do is look at her hair. Didn't you notice it change style or even color when we encountered the wendigo? Or today when that pet carrier smashed her nose?"

Truth was, he hadn't. He was just relieved that Abby was still with them. This was not a change he was prepared for in the slightest. What was he supposed to see other than the blood after the wendigo threw her, or whatever happened? He'd already been surprised by her levitating things and healing herself. Now this? What other surprises was this small child harboring?

"Whatever you're talking about, I don't see it."

The timer went off, letting Abby know she could get up.

"DD," she said as she climbed the couch to reach his eye level.

"What do you want for dinner, Shortround?" Dean asked as he wrapped his arms around her protectively. He'd heard her stomach growl five minutes ago.

"Sweet Chili wings and barbeque chicken pizza… If I have onions on mine, you'll find them in your shampoo," she threatened. It held a kernel of truth, though. He wasn't going to find onions in his shampoo if she got them in her food. No, no. He was more likely to find the cubes or slivers in places like his shoes or the air vents than he was his shower supplies. Although she had done that that at least once.

"Okay. Half-and-half with a side of onions it is."

"DDeee," she whined, reminding him of why she couldn't have them on her food. "You know I can't have those."

A flash of him rushing her to the hospital as she struggled to breathe. Hives broke out on her skin everywhere the sauce touched. With the things they now knew and were still learning about their kid sister, it was hard to believe she could even have an allergy.

"Right… uh, Sammy. Beers or sodas for us, juice for the energizer bunny. Make hers a personal… onion allergy. We don't really need another pointless trip to the hospital."

"Another?" Sam asked curiously as he stood up and walked over to the bathroom. He turned the shower on and adjusted the temperature to Abby's liking.

"Yeah. Look, before we knew she could heal herself, she'd had a burger with onions on it. Powder or small amounts are fine for her, but this was as if I'd ordered it for myself. But more."

"Extra ordered extra?" Sam asked, lifting Abby off the sofa's arm. He set her down, facing the open bathroom door.

"With a side of extra."

Sam whistled "Wait! You knew about the healing and couldn't be bothered to tell me?"

"Should I have?"

"Go, get cleaned up," Sam said to Abby. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I asked you to tell me what I was getting myself into. Not once did you make me aware of these things. The only thing I knew about was the levitating."

"Bo-ond! What are you doing out of your cage?" they heard through the door. She was clearly already under the running water if the broken rhythm told them anything.

"Who's Bond?" Sam asked. "She was talking to whatever that is earlier today.

"James?" Dean replied, just as confused as his brother. "Johnny English's word? Savings? Take your pick… Dude, I honestly haven't been able to read this kid since she was three. Up until I grabbed you from Stanford, I didn't even know what she watched on TV while I was out hunting."

Being raised by a brother like Dean, Abby barely knew what it meant to be embarrassed. But if the last few months proved anything, she certainly knew how to make her brothers feel that way.

With his interest in Andrea, all it took was an off-handed remark about how she thought he liked women with bigger smurfs. It was just something she remembered from when they met Jess. Dean was embarrassed, even in Andrea's absence.

It was a memory Sam didn't want to have. So why did he laugh when they got the keys to their room? Dean's face paling and eyes widening at the realization that Abby was slowly losing her naivety because of him is why.

The first time she had tried to use Dean's laptop now that he had one, she instantly regretted it. It also explained how she knew making such a reference would turn her brother's face beet red.

"DDeeee! Sammy! I need help! I can't reach Bond!"

Dean gave Sam their special game look. Sam just rolled his eyes. He didn't know why they bothered playing this game. Dean always chose the same weapon, losing every round they'd ever played.

Neither one of them wanted to know what this imaginary pet of hers was. They weren't too sure about how they'd find their sister either once the door was opened.

A scream brought them out of their game of rock-paper-scissors. The brothers had no idea what they'd find. Her last shower, the day before, wasn't even taken while they were awake, and the room was loaded with popping bubbles.

"Ahhhhhh!" she shrieked.

The door opened. They'd expected her to be standing, or even sitting, on the floor. Possibly with the fallen shower curtain draped over her.

What they found, however, was little Abby laying down on top of the curtain rod. She was hanging on for dear life.

Dean looked up at his younger brother, then Abby. He pat Sam's shoulder, saying, "Okay… change of plans. You get Shortround. I'll order pizza."

"Ho-how?"

"I don't know. You're the giant. You figure it out."