(Un)Lucky Charms
John, Dean (10) Sam (6)
Dean yawned loudly, rubbing his eyes as he moved into the kitchen area. He quite liked this motel. The rooms here were considerably larger than in the two previous places they had stayed in. After several days of spending long hours in the back of the Impala and sleeping in motels that barely had enough room for the three Winchesters to turn around in, it was a pleasant change. Dean was sure that he would absolutely had lost his mind if he had to be stuck in a tiny room with Sammy, and little more than two beds and a bathroom to keep them occupied. The previous two places hadn`t even had a TV set. An absolute scandal in Dean`s mind. This motel had everything. A decent TV, a bathroom with a shower, even a kitchen area with a mini fridge. He hoped they could stay here for a bit longer, even now that Dad had returned from his trip. It was doubtful, though. With it being summer, the boys didn`t need to attend school, which meant John could move them around constantly without worrying about arousing suspcion from teachers and headmasters.
Dean opened the tiny fridge. There were few chilled products left, but at least they had milk for the cereal the boys liked so much. He gave it a sniff. Yup, still fresh.
Now that Dad was back, they could go to the grocery store tomorrow and stock up. Today was Sunday, so all the shops would be closed. John tried as much as he could to avoid big shopping rounds at petrol stations, as the prices were much steeper than at a regular food store.
Dean sat the milk on the counter, and turned to greet his little brother as he came out of the bedroom, looking fresh and rested. He`d obviously slept well, which made Dean glad.
"What do you want for breakfast, Sammy?"
Sam seated himself at the small round table, like a customer at a diner waiting to be served.
"I want toast."
"This motel doesn`t have a toaster," Dean reminded him. "I can make you a sandwich."
"I miss the toaster in the other place we stayed at. It was jumpy."
"What do you mean, `jumpy`?"
"When the bread came out, it jumped. Daddy said that the toaster was jumpy," Sam explained.
"He said that it `had some bounce to it,`" Dean corrected, remembering the white toaster from two motels ago, back in Minnesota, the first overnight stay after they had visited Pastor Jim. The Winchesters had spent a week at the pastor`s place, and the boys had loved playing outside in the fresh air. John had gotten some much needed rest and relaxation, but now they were on the road once more. From Minnesota, they had driven into Wisconsin, and John had just wrapped up a job in the neighboring town.
Dean grabbed the cereal box from the small cabinet on the wall and rattled it skeptically. He could tell there wasn`t enough left for two portions. He knew it was Sam`s favourite, but he had said he wanted a sandwich, so it would be okay for Dean to finish it. "Do you want PP&J on your sandwich, Sammy?"
Sam eyed the colourful box, admiring the little red-headed Irish leprechaun resting easily on top of the yellow letters spelling out the name of the beloved, sugary breakfast product. He loved the chewy, colourful marshmallow bits. The yellow moon, purple horseshoe, green clover, pink heart... Just looking at the box made his mouth water.
Dean tried to snap Sam out of it. "Hello? You awake?"
Sammy finally tore his gaze away from the colourful cardboard box. "Dean, are lepperchauns real?"
"It`s leprechaun," the older boy corrected. "And I dunno. Maybe." Dean knew that his younger sibling still believed in all kinds of childish, make-believe stuff like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy, and he didn`t want to crush his illusions. For all Dean knew, it was quite possible that the mascot on the cereal box existed in the real world, in some form.
Sam had no idea that monsters were very much real, he had no knowledge of the things that moved in the shadows. And both John and Dean were determined to keep it that way for the time being.
He shrugged as he grabbed the knife to slice the bread. Sam was strictly forbidden to use it, but Dean was perfectly safe using the sharp blade, he was used to fixing simple meals for his brother.
"When Dad gets up, you can ask him."
"Daddy`s home?"
"Yeah, he came home last night."
"After I had gone to bed?"
"Yeah, it was late. Now stop with all the questions. Do you want this sandwich or not?"
Sam had changed his mind upon seeing the box of his beloved cereal. "I want Lucky Charms."
"You said you wanted a sandwich," Dean reminded him.
"Yeah, but now I want Lucky Charms."
"Look, there`s only enough for one bowl, and I haven`t had any yet. I`ll eat the rest of the Lucky Charms, and you can get the prize. Deal?"
"No Dean, I want Lucky Charms!" Sam whined loudly, slamming his little hand on the table.
"Shhh, Sammy! If we wake up Dad, we`re in for it!" Dean cast a worried glance towards the door that separated the bedroom from the kitchen area. He was under strict instructions to let John sleep and to fix breakfast for Sammy.
"He needs to sleep, been driving all night," Dean echoed his fathers words from hours before.
Dean had woken up in the middle of the night to the familiar, comforting rumble of the Impala pulling up outside the building. He had left his little brother to his undisturbed sleep and greeted his father as he dragged himself in the door.
John had worked a job over in the next town, a haunting at a small, local school museum. The vengeful spirit of a man who had worked as a teacher in life was haunting the building. It was Pastor Jim who had tipped him off. It was a standard salt-and-burn case, but as the man`s body had been cremated, John was forced to break into the museum and confront the ghost in his search for the object that was tying the spirit to the physical realm.
The museum building was small, and the rooms arranged to take on the appearance of a real, working school, like a big time capsule. There were different rooms representing various eras, going all the way back to the late 1800s. It was in the room labeled "Principal`s Office," that John had discovered the object that he needed to salt and burn in order to dispel the vengeful spirit. Judging by this, he could not have been a well liked teacher at the school he worked on in life.
John didn`t know the full story behind this man`s life or death, but when the spirit appeared to attack the hunter, he had a moment to take in the ghosts clothing. John would put his time of death in the 1930s or earlier, which would also make sense considering the object in question was a cane. Corporal punishment was still used in schools, but the weapon of choice in the modern age was a paddle - the cane represented a bygone time, when teachers wore stiff suits and had absolute authority.
The cane was salted and burned, dispelling the screaming spirit, and as far as John was concerned, he hoped the stern school teacher was rotting in hell.
The hunter was disgusted at the thought that this severe, painful instrument was ever used on small children. He used spanking for discipline and punishment, but so far he had only ever used the belt on Dean once - when he had left Sammy alone in a motel room to be attacked by a Shtriga. In all other cases, he considered his hand to be sufficient, but he realized that as Dean would get older, the need for more severe implements would occur, however this was at least a couple of years away.
The hunt had required John to leave his sons alone for almost two days. He had slept in the Impala to save money, and when the case was all wrapped up, he had hit the road and driven through the night to get back to his beloved boys.
"Sammy give you any trouble at bedtime?" John had asked. He knew that tensions could run high between the boys when they were left alone. The boredom could make them get on each others nerves, but John had tried to explain to his sons that when he was gone, it was Dean that was in charge.
Dean had hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not to be honest with his father.
"You`re not Dad! I don`t have to do what you say!"
"I swear to God, Sammy, I`ll punch you if you don`t get to bed right now!"
In the end, he decided to protect Sammy. "No. It was fine."
"Can`t I get the Lucky Charms, and you eat the sandwich?" Sam suggested.
Dean was getting annoyed. "That`s not fair, Sam. You`ve eaten almost this whole box by yourself, and I haven`t had any yet."
"But-"
"No!" Dean snapped irritably, trying to channel some of Dad`s authority. "I`ll eat the cereal, you get a sandwich, and then you can get the prize from the box."
"No, I want the cereal," Sam objected. He slipped down from the chair and tried to grab the cardboard box, but Dean had quick reflexes. The boys grabbed at the box at the same time and a tug-o-war ensued.
"Let go!" Dean tugged at the box, trying to rip it from his little brothers grip. "It`s mine!"
"No, I want to have it!" Sam pulled hard at the box, not noticing the rift beginning to form in the cardboard.
"That`s not fair, you cereal-hog!" Dean`s temper was getting the better of him now. After a lot of alone-time with his little brother, he was finally boiling over. "You`re being a baby, just let go of the damn box!"
"NO!" Sam yelled, and they both tugged and pulled at the box.
Finally it gave into the pressure and before they knew it, each Winchester boy was standing with half a ripped cereal box in their hand, pieces of Lucky Charms cereal raining down around them.
"Uh-oh..." Sammy looked at the mess around him. They had better get this cleaned up before...
"Boys! What the hell is going on in here?"
The children jumped, their heads whipping around to take in the sight of their father who had just rolled out of bed, woken up by their loud arguing. Exhausted after hours of driving, John hadn`t bothered to undress, and now he stood there with his hair ruffled, his t-shirt and jeans in wrinkles and pieces of sugar frosted cereal around his bare feet.
Dean wanted to explain the situation, but realized there was no way he`d be able to shift the blame onto himself. John was no fool, and he could see clear as day that both his sons were equally guilty in creating this chaotic scene.
"Both of you, front and center." John`s voice was hard as steel as he pointed to a bit of floor in front of him that was mostly spared the downpour of Lucky Charms.
The boys both took a couple of steps to stand in front of their father, wincing as the cereal crunched beneath their sock-covered feet.
Dean looked at his fathers stern face and tried to plunge into an explanation before his courage could fail him. "Sir, I-"
John cut him off immediately. "Save it, Dean. You`re old enough to know better than to pick petty fights with your little brother, not to mention wasting good food like this. I`m disappointed in you."
Dean swallowed. Those words stung more than the swats he knew he was about to receive. "Sorry, sir."
John was addressing both his sons now. "We waste food, we waste money. And we can`t afford that."
Both Dean and Sam nodded solemnly to show that they understood.
John turned to his youngest. "Sam, I don`t want to hear any more of you yelling at and arguing with your brother. You got that?"
Sam nodded.
"I can`t hear you."
"Yes, Daddy."
Now that the lecturing was done, John wasted no time to move on to the discipline part. He grabbed Sam first and delivered four solid whacks to his small behind.
"Oww!" Sammy yelled, wriggling uselessly to avoid John`s hand.
Dean took his swats with a bit more dignity. He got two more than his brother because he was older and should know better than to get into petty fights and spill good food all over the floor. Still, Dean couldn`t help hissing and gritting his teeth as the strong smacks landed and the last two had him jumping and yelping.
He noticed Sammy had tears in his eyes as he rubbed at the fresh sting in his behind, and wanted to comfort him. He had been annoyed at his brother just minutes earlier, but none of that mattered now.
"Grab the broom and get this mess cleaned up," John ordered sternly. "I`m going to take a shower, and I want this kitchen spotless when I get back. Damn waste," he muttered under his breath, annoyed that several dollars worth of cereal was now scattered on the motel floor.
Sam`s breath hitched and fat tears of misery spilled down his chubby cheeks.
"C`mere, Sammy." Dean put his skinny arms around his little brother and let the younger child cry against his chest. After a minute, Sam had calmed down and pulled away, leaving a wet stain of tears and discharge on Dean`s beloved AC/DC t-shirt.
"Ah man, you got snot all over me!" Dean moaned in a teasing tone.
"Sorry, Dean," Sam smiled. "Here, I`ll wipe it off." Giggling, he rubbed his hand all over Dean`s chest, smearing the sticky stain even more.
"Great, thanks. Much better."
The brothers shared a quiet, little laugh, thinking it best not to antogonize John further.
"Okay, you heard Dad. We gotta get this stuff cleaned up. Come on, Sammy. You grab the dustpan and I`ll get the broom."
The boys worked in silence for a few minutes, and soon the motel room was restored to its former glory. Dean put the broom and dustpan away, and when he turned around, he noticed his brother was standing with his hands behind his back.
Misinterpreting, Dean asked if he was okay. "Does your butt still hurt?"
"No.. I wanted to give you this." Sam presented his brother with the toy from the cereal box. "You didn`t get any cereal, and that`s unfair. You can have the prize."
Dean accepted it gratefully. "Thanks, Sammy."
The six-year-old just realized he had forgotten something. "Oh! I forgot to ask Daddy if lepperchauns are real."
"Do it later, when he`s in a better mood," Dean suggested. "Now, how about I make us some PP&J sandwiches?"
"Okay, Dean. You should make one for Daddy too. That`ll make him happy."
Dean chuckled at his kid brother. "Good idea, Sammy."