Star Catcher (5/15)
Title: Star Catcher
Rating: G
Characters: Dean, Castiel, Sam
Genre: Friendship
Summary: A time-traveling mishap will make two children and a fledgling realize that the unexpected can sometimes be a good thing.
Prologue - Fall For A Shooting Star
Chapter 1 - Some Have Silver Linings
Chapter 2 - Not Your Carpet Ride
Chapter 3 - Host of Heaven, Sing Over Me
Chapter 4 - Moonbeams and Fairy Tales
10:11 A.M.
The three of them could not stay out of their motel room forever, and when the clouds discharged a heavy downpour, they had no choice but to head back. Thankfully, the manager let them off the hook for breaking the TV, although to compensate he said that the rest of their stay at the motel would be utterly TV-free… which sucked.
Dean was lying on the sofa, a slingshot in his hand and a couple of crumpled bits of paper by his head on the floor. For the past hour, he had been aiming at a particular blotch on the opposite wall, and if he hit it dead-on, the paper projectiles would land into a waste basket directly below. So far, everything he had fired was in the basket.
Meanwhile, Sam was on his stomach on the floor, happily drawing. The floor was littered with crayons and pieces of paper; any paper that drifted near Sam was used for drawing, and any that drifted to Dean was used for firing at the wall.
As Dean sent another ball of paper to the blotch, he noticed that Conner was not within his peripheral. He sat up, looked around and eventually found Conner backed up into the farthest corner of the room and hugging his legs.
“Are you still freaked out about the birds?” Dean asked him.
Conner’s eyes were wide when he looked up. “I’m not… freaked out.” he squeaked. And it was evident that ‘freaked out’ was a new phrase for him.
“Then why haven’t you left that spot for over an hour?” replied Dean, crossing his arms. When Conner simply blinked at him, Dean added, “Come on, draw with Sammy over here.”
At that, Conner’s gaze wandered over to Sam’s latest scribbling, only later to return to Dean with a head-tilt.
“It’s either that or be my moving target for practice.” said Dean, already aiming his slingshot at him.
Judging by the cringe Conner made, it got a decent effect out of him. Gradually, he unfolded himself and slipped away from the shadows, mindful of his injury. When he reached Sam, he carefully sat down next to him and observed his drawing.
“Hi, Conner!” Sam greeted upon realizing that Conner was beside him.
It was barely visible, but Dean noticed Conner slightly wince at his brother’s sudden perkiness. “Hello.” he said quietly.
“Wanna draw?” asked Sam.
Conner stared at the crayons and papers around them like they were alien technology or something. “What shall I draw?” he inquired.
“Anything you want!” Sam declared. He snatched up his latest drawing and showed it to Conner. “I drew a snail juggling candy canes.” he proudly stated.
As senseless as that was, Dean merely shook his head and said nothing. He went back to shooting paper across the room, albeit he made sure to keep a close eye on the two.
“Why?” asked Conner, wearing an extremely befuddled expression.
Sam shrugged. “I wanted to.” he responded. He grabbed a few pieces of paper and a handful of crayons and gave them to Conner. “Here. You draw something.”
At first, Conner seemed to be absolutely clueless on what to do next, but when Sam showed no signs of putting down the papers and crayons he was offering, Conner nervously took them into his hands and shuffled off to his own space to draw, though he remained nearby.
Conner studied his bunch of crayons for a long while before picking up the red one first. He proceeded to make a line but then Sam noticed that he was using the dull end of the crayon. He crawled over to Conner and flipped the crayon in his hand; after that, Conner resumed his drawing as if Sam never interrupted.
For ten minutes, no one spoke a word. Dean was perfecting his aim, whereas Sam and Conner were busy drawing. Occasionally, Dean would glance at what the two were drawing: presently, his brother was drawing a boat; Conner, on the other hand, was making some odd and complicated lines and squiggles that appeared eerily similar to the symbols on his dad’s journal.
Dean tried to ignore it. That was just a coincidence, right? Conner did not look like he knew anything about being a hunter; he was too much of a wimp. Besides, Dean had never seen those kinds of squiggles before on dad’s journal, and dad’s journal had everything. Conner was simply doodling, that was all; maybe he had taken art lessons at Sunday school or something.
A moment later, whatever Conner was drawing was apparently too small to fit into one piece of paper, so he got another one and joined them together. And another. And another. And another. And another.
When it became clear that Conner was done, he gathered all of his papers and made his way to the door, and since he still had his sprained ankle to worry about, it was a slow process. He then started sticking the papers to the door, or at least he was trying to since he was only finding cracks on the wood to wedge the corners of the papers in.
Piqued, Sam and Dean went over to Conner to check out what he was up to.
“What’s that?” asked Dean, motioning at Conner’s pile of drawings on the floor.
Conner dejectedly watched as the first paper he had gotten up slip from the door and land next to his feet. “It’s a warding sigil against animals.” he said.
“Huh?” Sam piped up. He always had trouble understanding big words.
“I think it’s a keep-out sign to birds.” offered Dean, recalling the day’s recent bout of weirdness.
“Oh.”
Dean gave the ‘warding sigil’ an apathetic glance. “Shouldn’t you be putting that outside? Where the things you’re trying to keep out are so they can see that?” he said.
“It can work indoors.” said Conner. “At least I hope so with this substitute material.” he added, holding out the red crayon.
“Okay, Conner, I don’t think any birds are gonna be able to get in here, even with that sign.” stated Dean.
Another paper fluttered to the ground. Sam went to the living room and returned with a roll of tape and gave it to Conner.
“Are you scared of birds?” Sam asked.
“No. I’m quite fond of them. And they’re always in good relation with me and my family.” said Conner as he attempted to familiarize himself with the tape.
That was the first time Conner ever mentioned something about his family that did not involve ‘Heaven’ or leaving him behind. “So what’s with all this? And the attack a while ago?” asked Dean.
Conner looked down and firmly gripped the paper he was holding. “It’s hard to explain.” he mumbled.
“Well, the TV’s busted so we got nothing else to listen to.” said Dean.
The stare Conner directed at him was full of reluctance. “They’re attracted to my energy… my Grace. I don’t think they’ve encountered anything so pure before.” he said quietly. “And when we got up to higher ground, the frequency must’ve been transmitted all over the area.” he explained. Then a slight blush tinged his cheeks and he cast his eyes down. “But instead of treating me with mutual respect, most of them wanted to take me back to their own nest like I’m one of their lost hatchlings.” he muttered.
Sam’s brain had stopped working the second the number of big words became too much for him, so he was left standing there looking like his head was about to blow up. Dean, meanwhile, was struggling to contain his laughter since the only part he really understood was the one at the end.
“Guess we should’ve named you ‘Birdbrain’ then, huh?” he snickered.
Conner’s ashamed look quickly turned into one of annoyance and he glared at Dean, who easily brushed it off.
“Alright, no more drawing for the rest of the day.” said Dean. But he helped Conner set up his dumb warding sigil anyway.
3:48 P.M.
There was a miniature city in the living room, made out of old magazines, pieces of furniture, kitchenware and pillows. It was inhabited by a few Lego people and stuffed animals.
Suddenly, a dinosaur emerged from behind the sofa, and it was attached to a moving, remote-controlled car.
“ROAR! I’M GONNA EAT EVERY ONE OF YOU!” Dean bellowed in a big, scary voice. He held the remote for the car in his hands and made the dinosaur move forward. “ROAR! ROAR!”
Sam came running from the kitchen with a tank and a couple of plastic soldiers. “The army’s gonna blow you up first!” he yelled.
The fight was on and there were a lot of (improvised) sounds of explosions and gun fires and a whole crowd of people screaming. Buildings were knocked over, civilians got squished but the dinosaur was still slowly plowing forward. Conner watched it all take place safely by the sidelines, his eyes wide with terror and excitement. They would have invited him to play but his ankle might get too worked up.
“YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN THAT! ONCE I GET TO THE PIE FACTORY, NO ONE CAN STOP ME!” Dean (or the dinosaur in this case) growled. The ‘pie factory’ was the fridge, where the last slice of apple pie was being kept.
Dean cleared his throat, placed the remote on the sofa and brought out two action figures. “No one except Han Solo and his trusty pal Chewie!” he proclaimed, using a different, more heroic-sounding voice.
Sam stood up and stashed his airplane in his pocket for a moment. “Uhm, hold on. Who’s Chewie again?” he asked.
A sigh escaped Dean’s lips. “You.” he answered.
“No way! You always make me Chewie!” protested Sam.
“That’s ‘cuz you hardly get a haircut.” retorted Dean.
Sam stuck his tongue out at him. “I want someone different this time!” he exclaimed.
“Should’ve thought of that first before you strapped Wedge to a firework.” said Dean. That was one New Year none of them would forget.
“That was your idea!” Sam cried out.
Conner straightened a little from his seat. “Uhm, the monster is - “ he began, pointing at the dinosaur that was still advancing into the city.
“Fine. I’ll find a can of soda in the fridge and you can pretend it’s R2-D2.” said Dean, ignoring Conner.
“I wanna be Han Solo this time!” yelled Sam, stomping his foot on the floor.
Dean looked affronted, like someone suggested they all wear pink for the rest of their lives. “Dude. No frigging way. As the big brother, I get dibs on him every time.” he said seriously.
“Excuse me - “ said Conner shyly.
“That’s not fair!” shouted Sam.
“Live with it.” responded Dean.
Without warning, Sam rammed into him and the brothers started brawling on the floor.
“The innocent people are going to die!” screamed Conner worriedly.
Dean pushed his brother aside to avoid getting kicked in his arm. “Yeah, yeah, in a minute, Conner.” he grunted.
“Give me Han Solo!” yelled Sam.
“With that lame tackle? You’re better off with Princess Leia!” Dean teased.
“Take that back, jerk!”
“Make me, bitch!”
As they continued to fight, Dean lost track of the time. At the corner of his eye, he saw Conner getting up, although he did not see where he went because Sam’s elbow suddenly came into view. Dean did not know how long they were on the floor, but they both instantly froze when they heard the sound of something heavy - like a very large book - crash onto the floor.
They looked up and saw Conner in the kitchen, standing over a phonebook and a crushed car and dinosaur.
“The monster was going to the pie factory.” he said innocently. “I stopped it now.”
All the brothers could do was stare at Conner in shock.
Then Sam untangled himself from Dean with a huge grin on his face. “YAY! New game! New game! New game!” he declared.
9:39 P.M.
One snack time later, Sam and Dean were back to civilized speaking terms and Conner did not have to arm himself with the phonebook anymore. They spent the rest of the day tiring themselves out and they all decided that nine would be an appropriate bedtime (for once).
As of the moment, Conner was curled up on the sofa and the Winchesters were lying in their beds in their room.
“Hey, Dean,” Sam whispered in the darkness.
It took a while for an answer to be heard. “Yeah?”
“How come there’s no peanut butter fish?” asked Sam.
Dean resisted the urge to sigh. It seemed as though tonight would be one of those nights when a random thought popped into Sam’s head. “What’re you talking about?” he responded.
There was the sound of blankets shifting and Dean could only guess that Sam was sitting up. “Since there’s a jellyfish, shouldn’t there be a peanut butter fish too?” his brother went on.
“Don’t know, don’t care. Just go to sleep.” dismissed Dean, rolling onto his back.
Rumpling blankets signified Sam going back to bed. Dean thought that that would be the end of it but he eventually heard Sam happily muttering, “Jellyfishes and peanut butter fishes would’ve been good friends. They’d make PB and J sandwiches all day.”
Dean was about to throw a pillow at him when he heard a faint, dragging noise in the living room. That got his hunter senses kicking into gear; he spared Sam a glance and saw, with what little streetlight was coming from the window, that his brother had heard it too and his silly ramblings were dropped.
Silently, Dean reached for the knife he kept under his pillow. He put a finger to his mouth in a gesture to make Sam keep quiet, and Sam obliged by burying himself a little further in his blanket, not to hide, but to reach for the bat beside him.
They heard the noise again, closer this time. Dean raised three fingers to Sam, meaning that on the count of three, he would turn on the bedside lamp. When he reached three, Dean swiftly flipped the switch and was practically ready to leap out of bed.
Except that when he turned on the light, it was revealed that it was just Conner who was making all the noise. When Conner registered Dean’s battle-ready stance, he cried out and fell onto his butt.
“Conner? What the hell are you doing up? You scared Sam.” said Dean, acting cool.
Sam kicked his blanket off. “Did not!” he said indignantly.
“I… couldn’t sleep.” Conner timidly admitted.
Dean sheathed his knife back under his pillow and mentally cursed at the waste of adrenaline. “What’s the matter?” he demanded.
Now, Conner appeared to be more hesitant than usual. “I don’t know how.” he murmured.
“You slept just fine for two nights.” pointed out Dean.
However, as he thought about it, Conner did not really go to sleep of his own accord the previous times. During the first night, Conner was so exhausted that sleep was unavoidable. And last night, Conner was given medicine that made him drowsy. Without any of those now, sleeping in an unfamiliar place, all alone, would be harder to do.
“Maybe he needs a story.” suggested Sam.
“Stories are for babies. You’re not a baby, are you, Conner?” Dean asked.
Instead of getting the response he wanted, Conner merely sat on the floor, staring at Dean with large, begging puppy-dog eyes.
“I want a story too, Dean.” piped up Sam, picking up on Conner’s motives.
That was two-to-one. Terrific. “Alright! Everyone move to the couch.” sighed Dean.
Sam giggled and made a beeline for the living room. When Dean passed by Conner at the threshold, he carried him all the way to the couch to avoid any more movement from his injured ankle… not that he cared.
“So, what story do you sissies want?” asked Dean once they were all settled.
“Something with dragons in it!” Sam instantly proclaimed, jumping a bit on the couch.
“Friendly dragons.” added Conner diffidently.
“And unicorns!” exclaimed Sam.
Sissies. He was surrounded by sissies.
“Just one story, got it?” said Dean, because this was already humiliating enough.
Sam and Conner nodded eagerly and inched closer to Dean.
So he told the most senseless story he could ever think of. And just for kicks, he threw in a little suspense to it too, like moments he could crouch down and then suddenly jump out simply to freak out Sam and Conner. And the horrified looks on their faces every time that happened was always priceless.
The story was supposed to be a short one, but Sam kept adding more details to it (for example, the unicorns suddenly getting jetpacks and singing rocks appearing) and Conner kept asking the most ridiculous questions (like what jetpacks were). They spent hours on that couch, although the story ultimately reached its end.
“…and so all the dragons and all the unicorns lived happily ever after, except that one really girly unicorn. She choked on her own rainbows and glitters. The end.” Dean tiredly concluded.
To his immense relief, Conner and Sam were fast asleep, though they were using each other’s body as their own pillow. Dean carefully extracted his brother from the sofa and carried him to his bed where he tucked him in. Once that was done, he did the same for Conner as he placed him more snugly on the sofa.
He realized that it was colder out here in the living room, and for a second, he considered transferring Conner to the bedroom instead.
Yet Dean walked back to their room alone anyway.
TBC ~> Chapter 5
Oh wow, I can’t believe it’s been a while since I updated this. Hopefully, future updates will come sooner.
Thank you as always for reading and especially reviewing! Your support keeps me going! :D
…Also, anyone on Pottermore? Let’s be friends! My username is Rainsickle108 :D
Rating: G
Characters: Dean, Castiel, Sam
Genre: Friendship
Summary: A time-traveling mishap will make two children and a fledgling realize that the unexpected can sometimes be a good thing.
Prologue - Fall For A Shooting Star
Chapter 1 - Some Have Silver Linings
Chapter 2 - Not Your Carpet Ride
Chapter 3 - Host of Heaven, Sing Over Me
Chapter 4 - Moonbeams and Fairy Tales
10:11 A.M.
The three of them could not stay out of their motel room forever, and when the clouds discharged a heavy downpour, they had no choice but to head back. Thankfully, the manager let them off the hook for breaking the TV, although to compensate he said that the rest of their stay at the motel would be utterly TV-free… which sucked.
Dean was lying on the sofa, a slingshot in his hand and a couple of crumpled bits of paper by his head on the floor. For the past hour, he had been aiming at a particular blotch on the opposite wall, and if he hit it dead-on, the paper projectiles would land into a waste basket directly below. So far, everything he had fired was in the basket.
Meanwhile, Sam was on his stomach on the floor, happily drawing. The floor was littered with crayons and pieces of paper; any paper that drifted near Sam was used for drawing, and any that drifted to Dean was used for firing at the wall.
As Dean sent another ball of paper to the blotch, he noticed that Conner was not within his peripheral. He sat up, looked around and eventually found Conner backed up into the farthest corner of the room and hugging his legs.
“Are you still freaked out about the birds?” Dean asked him.
Conner’s eyes were wide when he looked up. “I’m not… freaked out.” he squeaked. And it was evident that ‘freaked out’ was a new phrase for him.
“Then why haven’t you left that spot for over an hour?” replied Dean, crossing his arms. When Conner simply blinked at him, Dean added, “Come on, draw with Sammy over here.”
At that, Conner’s gaze wandered over to Sam’s latest scribbling, only later to return to Dean with a head-tilt.
“It’s either that or be my moving target for practice.” said Dean, already aiming his slingshot at him.
Judging by the cringe Conner made, it got a decent effect out of him. Gradually, he unfolded himself and slipped away from the shadows, mindful of his injury. When he reached Sam, he carefully sat down next to him and observed his drawing.
“Hi, Conner!” Sam greeted upon realizing that Conner was beside him.
It was barely visible, but Dean noticed Conner slightly wince at his brother’s sudden perkiness. “Hello.” he said quietly.
“Wanna draw?” asked Sam.
Conner stared at the crayons and papers around them like they were alien technology or something. “What shall I draw?” he inquired.
“Anything you want!” Sam declared. He snatched up his latest drawing and showed it to Conner. “I drew a snail juggling candy canes.” he proudly stated.
As senseless as that was, Dean merely shook his head and said nothing. He went back to shooting paper across the room, albeit he made sure to keep a close eye on the two.
“Why?” asked Conner, wearing an extremely befuddled expression.
Sam shrugged. “I wanted to.” he responded. He grabbed a few pieces of paper and a handful of crayons and gave them to Conner. “Here. You draw something.”
At first, Conner seemed to be absolutely clueless on what to do next, but when Sam showed no signs of putting down the papers and crayons he was offering, Conner nervously took them into his hands and shuffled off to his own space to draw, though he remained nearby.
Conner studied his bunch of crayons for a long while before picking up the red one first. He proceeded to make a line but then Sam noticed that he was using the dull end of the crayon. He crawled over to Conner and flipped the crayon in his hand; after that, Conner resumed his drawing as if Sam never interrupted.
For ten minutes, no one spoke a word. Dean was perfecting his aim, whereas Sam and Conner were busy drawing. Occasionally, Dean would glance at what the two were drawing: presently, his brother was drawing a boat; Conner, on the other hand, was making some odd and complicated lines and squiggles that appeared eerily similar to the symbols on his dad’s journal.
Dean tried to ignore it. That was just a coincidence, right? Conner did not look like he knew anything about being a hunter; he was too much of a wimp. Besides, Dean had never seen those kinds of squiggles before on dad’s journal, and dad’s journal had everything. Conner was simply doodling, that was all; maybe he had taken art lessons at Sunday school or something.
A moment later, whatever Conner was drawing was apparently too small to fit into one piece of paper, so he got another one and joined them together. And another. And another. And another. And another.
When it became clear that Conner was done, he gathered all of his papers and made his way to the door, and since he still had his sprained ankle to worry about, it was a slow process. He then started sticking the papers to the door, or at least he was trying to since he was only finding cracks on the wood to wedge the corners of the papers in.
Piqued, Sam and Dean went over to Conner to check out what he was up to.
“What’s that?” asked Dean, motioning at Conner’s pile of drawings on the floor.
Conner dejectedly watched as the first paper he had gotten up slip from the door and land next to his feet. “It’s a warding sigil against animals.” he said.
“Huh?” Sam piped up. He always had trouble understanding big words.
“I think it’s a keep-out sign to birds.” offered Dean, recalling the day’s recent bout of weirdness.
“Oh.”
Dean gave the ‘warding sigil’ an apathetic glance. “Shouldn’t you be putting that outside? Where the things you’re trying to keep out are so they can see that?” he said.
“It can work indoors.” said Conner. “At least I hope so with this substitute material.” he added, holding out the red crayon.
“Okay, Conner, I don’t think any birds are gonna be able to get in here, even with that sign.” stated Dean.
Another paper fluttered to the ground. Sam went to the living room and returned with a roll of tape and gave it to Conner.
“Are you scared of birds?” Sam asked.
“No. I’m quite fond of them. And they’re always in good relation with me and my family.” said Conner as he attempted to familiarize himself with the tape.
That was the first time Conner ever mentioned something about his family that did not involve ‘Heaven’ or leaving him behind. “So what’s with all this? And the attack a while ago?” asked Dean.
Conner looked down and firmly gripped the paper he was holding. “It’s hard to explain.” he mumbled.
“Well, the TV’s busted so we got nothing else to listen to.” said Dean.
The stare Conner directed at him was full of reluctance. “They’re attracted to my energy… my Grace. I don’t think they’ve encountered anything so pure before.” he said quietly. “And when we got up to higher ground, the frequency must’ve been transmitted all over the area.” he explained. Then a slight blush tinged his cheeks and he cast his eyes down. “But instead of treating me with mutual respect, most of them wanted to take me back to their own nest like I’m one of their lost hatchlings.” he muttered.
Sam’s brain had stopped working the second the number of big words became too much for him, so he was left standing there looking like his head was about to blow up. Dean, meanwhile, was struggling to contain his laughter since the only part he really understood was the one at the end.
“Guess we should’ve named you ‘Birdbrain’ then, huh?” he snickered.
Conner’s ashamed look quickly turned into one of annoyance and he glared at Dean, who easily brushed it off.
“Alright, no more drawing for the rest of the day.” said Dean. But he helped Conner set up his dumb warding sigil anyway.
3:48 P.M.
There was a miniature city in the living room, made out of old magazines, pieces of furniture, kitchenware and pillows. It was inhabited by a few Lego people and stuffed animals.
Suddenly, a dinosaur emerged from behind the sofa, and it was attached to a moving, remote-controlled car.
“ROAR! I’M GONNA EAT EVERY ONE OF YOU!” Dean bellowed in a big, scary voice. He held the remote for the car in his hands and made the dinosaur move forward. “ROAR! ROAR!”
Sam came running from the kitchen with a tank and a couple of plastic soldiers. “The army’s gonna blow you up first!” he yelled.
The fight was on and there were a lot of (improvised) sounds of explosions and gun fires and a whole crowd of people screaming. Buildings were knocked over, civilians got squished but the dinosaur was still slowly plowing forward. Conner watched it all take place safely by the sidelines, his eyes wide with terror and excitement. They would have invited him to play but his ankle might get too worked up.
“YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN THAT! ONCE I GET TO THE PIE FACTORY, NO ONE CAN STOP ME!” Dean (or the dinosaur in this case) growled. The ‘pie factory’ was the fridge, where the last slice of apple pie was being kept.
Dean cleared his throat, placed the remote on the sofa and brought out two action figures. “No one except Han Solo and his trusty pal Chewie!” he proclaimed, using a different, more heroic-sounding voice.
Sam stood up and stashed his airplane in his pocket for a moment. “Uhm, hold on. Who’s Chewie again?” he asked.
A sigh escaped Dean’s lips. “You.” he answered.
“No way! You always make me Chewie!” protested Sam.
“That’s ‘cuz you hardly get a haircut.” retorted Dean.
Sam stuck his tongue out at him. “I want someone different this time!” he exclaimed.
“Should’ve thought of that first before you strapped Wedge to a firework.” said Dean. That was one New Year none of them would forget.
“That was your idea!” Sam cried out.
Conner straightened a little from his seat. “Uhm, the monster is - “ he began, pointing at the dinosaur that was still advancing into the city.
“Fine. I’ll find a can of soda in the fridge and you can pretend it’s R2-D2.” said Dean, ignoring Conner.
“I wanna be Han Solo this time!” yelled Sam, stomping his foot on the floor.
Dean looked affronted, like someone suggested they all wear pink for the rest of their lives. “Dude. No frigging way. As the big brother, I get dibs on him every time.” he said seriously.
“Excuse me - “ said Conner shyly.
“That’s not fair!” shouted Sam.
“Live with it.” responded Dean.
Without warning, Sam rammed into him and the brothers started brawling on the floor.
“The innocent people are going to die!” screamed Conner worriedly.
Dean pushed his brother aside to avoid getting kicked in his arm. “Yeah, yeah, in a minute, Conner.” he grunted.
“Give me Han Solo!” yelled Sam.
“With that lame tackle? You’re better off with Princess Leia!” Dean teased.
“Take that back, jerk!”
“Make me, bitch!”
As they continued to fight, Dean lost track of the time. At the corner of his eye, he saw Conner getting up, although he did not see where he went because Sam’s elbow suddenly came into view. Dean did not know how long they were on the floor, but they both instantly froze when they heard the sound of something heavy - like a very large book - crash onto the floor.
They looked up and saw Conner in the kitchen, standing over a phonebook and a crushed car and dinosaur.
“The monster was going to the pie factory.” he said innocently. “I stopped it now.”
All the brothers could do was stare at Conner in shock.
Then Sam untangled himself from Dean with a huge grin on his face. “YAY! New game! New game! New game!” he declared.
9:39 P.M.
One snack time later, Sam and Dean were back to civilized speaking terms and Conner did not have to arm himself with the phonebook anymore. They spent the rest of the day tiring themselves out and they all decided that nine would be an appropriate bedtime (for once).
As of the moment, Conner was curled up on the sofa and the Winchesters were lying in their beds in their room.
“Hey, Dean,” Sam whispered in the darkness.
It took a while for an answer to be heard. “Yeah?”
“How come there’s no peanut butter fish?” asked Sam.
Dean resisted the urge to sigh. It seemed as though tonight would be one of those nights when a random thought popped into Sam’s head. “What’re you talking about?” he responded.
There was the sound of blankets shifting and Dean could only guess that Sam was sitting up. “Since there’s a jellyfish, shouldn’t there be a peanut butter fish too?” his brother went on.
“Don’t know, don’t care. Just go to sleep.” dismissed Dean, rolling onto his back.
Rumpling blankets signified Sam going back to bed. Dean thought that that would be the end of it but he eventually heard Sam happily muttering, “Jellyfishes and peanut butter fishes would’ve been good friends. They’d make PB and J sandwiches all day.”
Dean was about to throw a pillow at him when he heard a faint, dragging noise in the living room. That got his hunter senses kicking into gear; he spared Sam a glance and saw, with what little streetlight was coming from the window, that his brother had heard it too and his silly ramblings were dropped.
Silently, Dean reached for the knife he kept under his pillow. He put a finger to his mouth in a gesture to make Sam keep quiet, and Sam obliged by burying himself a little further in his blanket, not to hide, but to reach for the bat beside him.
They heard the noise again, closer this time. Dean raised three fingers to Sam, meaning that on the count of three, he would turn on the bedside lamp. When he reached three, Dean swiftly flipped the switch and was practically ready to leap out of bed.
Except that when he turned on the light, it was revealed that it was just Conner who was making all the noise. When Conner registered Dean’s battle-ready stance, he cried out and fell onto his butt.
“Conner? What the hell are you doing up? You scared Sam.” said Dean, acting cool.
Sam kicked his blanket off. “Did not!” he said indignantly.
“I… couldn’t sleep.” Conner timidly admitted.
Dean sheathed his knife back under his pillow and mentally cursed at the waste of adrenaline. “What’s the matter?” he demanded.
Now, Conner appeared to be more hesitant than usual. “I don’t know how.” he murmured.
“You slept just fine for two nights.” pointed out Dean.
However, as he thought about it, Conner did not really go to sleep of his own accord the previous times. During the first night, Conner was so exhausted that sleep was unavoidable. And last night, Conner was given medicine that made him drowsy. Without any of those now, sleeping in an unfamiliar place, all alone, would be harder to do.
“Maybe he needs a story.” suggested Sam.
“Stories are for babies. You’re not a baby, are you, Conner?” Dean asked.
Instead of getting the response he wanted, Conner merely sat on the floor, staring at Dean with large, begging puppy-dog eyes.
“I want a story too, Dean.” piped up Sam, picking up on Conner’s motives.
That was two-to-one. Terrific. “Alright! Everyone move to the couch.” sighed Dean.
Sam giggled and made a beeline for the living room. When Dean passed by Conner at the threshold, he carried him all the way to the couch to avoid any more movement from his injured ankle… not that he cared.
“So, what story do you sissies want?” asked Dean once they were all settled.
“Something with dragons in it!” Sam instantly proclaimed, jumping a bit on the couch.
“Friendly dragons.” added Conner diffidently.
“And unicorns!” exclaimed Sam.
Sissies. He was surrounded by sissies.
“Just one story, got it?” said Dean, because this was already humiliating enough.
Sam and Conner nodded eagerly and inched closer to Dean.
So he told the most senseless story he could ever think of. And just for kicks, he threw in a little suspense to it too, like moments he could crouch down and then suddenly jump out simply to freak out Sam and Conner. And the horrified looks on their faces every time that happened was always priceless.
The story was supposed to be a short one, but Sam kept adding more details to it (for example, the unicorns suddenly getting jetpacks and singing rocks appearing) and Conner kept asking the most ridiculous questions (like what jetpacks were). They spent hours on that couch, although the story ultimately reached its end.
“…and so all the dragons and all the unicorns lived happily ever after, except that one really girly unicorn. She choked on her own rainbows and glitters. The end.” Dean tiredly concluded.
To his immense relief, Conner and Sam were fast asleep, though they were using each other’s body as their own pillow. Dean carefully extracted his brother from the sofa and carried him to his bed where he tucked him in. Once that was done, he did the same for Conner as he placed him more snugly on the sofa.
He realized that it was colder out here in the living room, and for a second, he considered transferring Conner to the bedroom instead.
Yet Dean walked back to their room alone anyway.
TBC ~> Chapter 5
Oh wow, I can’t believe it’s been a while since I updated this. Hopefully, future updates will come sooner.
Thank you as always for reading and especially reviewing! Your support keeps me going! :D
…Also, anyone on Pottermore? Let’s be friends! My username is Rainsickle108 :D