Supernatural Fic: The Generosity of Strangers
Title: The Generosity of Strangers
Author: sirenprincess
Rating: PG
Warnings: Can overly fluffy be a warning? I don’t know what came over me.
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff
Characters: Dean (9) and Sam (5)
Spoilers: Season 1
Word Count: 3,322
Summary: December 3, 1988. John’s late returning from a hunt, which leaves Dean and Sam without any money or food. Dean’s POV as he tries to figure out how to manage on his own.
Disclaimer: This work is based on characters and situations created and owned by the CW. No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author’s Notes: Written for reapertownusa. She requested “I need a fic with wee!Dean raiding food samples (like stuffing his pockets at Costco sort of thing) to get food for Sammy when John was gone too long on a hunting trip and little Sammy thinking it was an awesomely special meal.” I made a little twist on it. I hope you like it.
Two weeks. It had been two weeks. Dean stared at the little calendar Dad had given him with the big red circle of his anticipated return date. Dean’s red Xs continued on for four days after. Feeling so very scared and alone, Dean ran his finger along Dad’s circle as if it somehow connected Dean to him, as if it might somehow bring him home. But nothing happened as Dean continued to touch the spot, and still nothing happened as he marked off the fifth day late.
“I’m hungry, Dean,” Sammy whined.
Sammy was always cranky on the best of mornings, and he got even worse when he was both tired and hungry. Dean might have been annoyed with him, but the loud gurgle of his brother’s stomach reminded Dean that Sammy probably was starving. Dean had given him the last of the animal crackers the previous night, but that had only been about five of them, and that’s all the kid had eaten for lunch or supper.
“I know you are, Sammy,” Dean whispered as he pulled his brother up to sit in the chair with him and gave him a hug. “I’ve got one piece of bread left. I can make you toast? But that’s all I got.”
“But you said Dad would be back with Lucky Charms by now,” Sammy complained.
Dean felt just about as miserable as Sammy sounded. Yeah, he’d said that, and yeah, he’d believed it, but here they were. He kept telling himself that today was the day Dad was going to show up and take them out for pancakes and sausage and eggs. He thought up imaginary reasons why the hunt might have gone long or Dad just hadn’t made it back yet. But he was running out of reasons that didn’t involve Dad being hurt, and Dean refused to even think about any of those.
“Dean’s specialty toast it is,” Dean said with a smile and a joking tone he did not feel. He gave Sammy another quick hug then hopped down and got out the plastic bag that had once held a full loaf of bread. He extracted the single last piece and scraped off the bits of mold with a butter knife, being careful to keep the entire process out of Sammy’s view. Sammy was a picky eater, and Dean did not even want to hear what he’d say if he knew what Dean was doing. Of course Dean would never even dream of feeding this to his brother if he hadn’t eaten it himself the night before. It was all he’d eaten yesterday, and aside from being hungry, Dean felt fine. So it had to be okay to feed to Sammy. It wasn’t like he had any other options.
Once the bread was toasted, it honestly didn’t look half bad. The brown, crunchy exterior seemed to hide the flecks he’d had to pull off. Dean even went so far as to put it on a little plate for Sammy so it would look good. “One order of Dean’s specialty toast. Best toast in the house,” Dean said as he put it down in front of his brother.
“But I want jelly,” Sammy said as he stared at it as if this were some kind of joke.
“Yeah, me too,” Dean thought, but he didn’t say it. “Eat,” was all he actually said in an imitation of Dad’s low and commanding voice. It was a testament to how hungry Sammy actually was that he didn’t argue and complied with the order.
“Where’s your slice?” Sammy asked as he chewed on his bread.
“Don’t talk with your mouth open,” Dean replied to distract him. “I ate before you woke up,” he lied smoothly. Oh how he wished that were true. Bacon and sausage and eggs, all the meat a boy could eat, even if that was only in his dreams.
Sitting at the table beside his brother, Dean carefully pulled out their stash of money and counted it. That couldn’t be right. Where was all the rest of it? He counted it again. He had to be counting it wrong. He just had to be. But on the third and fourth count he came up with the exact same number. $30.47. It wasn’t going to be enough. Dean suddenly didn’t feel hungry anymore; he felt sick.
Dean ran through his head what they’d spent money on. He’d paid for the second week of the hotel like Dad had told him. And they’d gone to that gas station and gotten potato chips and candy bars that one day. Dean’s chest suddenly hurt as he remembered they’d spent nearly $15 at the movie theater. It was some lame cartoon, "Oliver and Company", Dean didn’t even want to see, but Sammy had given him the puppy dog eyes and begged him to take him to it, and Dean hadn’t been able to say no. And of course Sammy had wanted a popcorn and soda. Dad would make him report when he got home. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind that Dad would spank him for squandering money they needed like that, but Dean was also certain that he deserved the sting of Dad’s heavy hand on his bottom. They were going to starve and possibly get kicked out on the street because he’d been irresponsible with their money. The guilt of that was so heavy, Dean couldn’t breathe.
For a long moment Dean looked at the telephone beside the bed. He could call Pastor Jim. He was supposed to call Pastor Jim if Dad didn’t come home, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to go to the phone. Calling Pastor Jim meant something was wrong with Dad. It meant . . . it meant Dad wasn’t coming back, and that was not something Dean was willing to accept. It wasn’t something he was even willing to think about. He’d just have to do . . . something else.
“I need to go out for a bit,” Dean said as he grabbed his jacket. “Play with Mr. Snuggles or watch TV. Don’t touch the stove. Don’t open the door unless it’s me no matter what, okay?”
“But I want to come too!” Sammy replied.
They’d been cooped up in the room for way too long, but Dean didn’t dare bring Sammy along for what he intended to try. “No,” Dean said firmly. “You stay here and you lock the door behind me or Dad will be real mad at you when he gets home. You’ll be in big, big trouble.”
If he ever gets home …. Dean made himself quickly push that thought away. Dad was fine. Dad was just fine.
Sammy’s eyes went wide and scared. He was still at the age where the threat of Dad being mad was enough to intimidate him into behaving. “Okay, Dean. I don’t want a spanking.”
“Good boy,” Dean said with a smile. It was kind of frightening how easy it was to manipulate his brother, but luckily he had Dean to always look out for him. “Now come lock the door behind me. Salt it again after me. The line’s getting a little thin.”
Once Dean was outside the motel room and he heard the click of the lock, he knocked on the door again. Dean was disappointed but not surprised when Sam immediately opened the door back up again. “Don’t open the door unless you know it’s me or Dad, Sammy! I could have been a kidnapper.”
“But I knew it was you!” Sammy insisted.
“Well check next time,” Dean commanded. He didn’t leave until they’d gone through another round and Sammy had passed the test.
The first place Dean headed was the motel office. Starving or not, it wouldn’t matter if they got kicked out of the room. Homelessness was not something Dean wanted to experience. Hopefully he had enough. “Hey, Mr. Peters. My Dad wanted me to come check how much it would be to stay one extra night. His business still isn’t done in town yet.” Dean was a little worried that the motel owner might be suspicious. Who sent a nine year old to pay their bills? He’d gotten away with saying Dad was out in the car and just sent him in once, but twice? Luckily no one seemed to care about much of anything at the type of motels Dad left them at. Money was money.
“Twenty-nine ninety-five a night,” the man told him. “Cheaper by the week.”
Dean cringed at the price but pulled his money out anyway. “Just the one night,” Dean said. “Dad’s sure his business will be wrapped up today.” It had to be. It just . . . had to be. One night. They had one night before they’d be forced to call Pastor Jim, and …. Dean couldn’t even think about it.
Dean left the office and started walking down the busy road. He remembered there was a grocery store a few blocks away. Of course he only had fifty two cents, and that wouldn’t be enough to feed even one of them for a day, but maybe it was enough to buy something. Dean couldn’t believe he was contemplating doing what he was really thinking about doing. Stealing was wrong, and Dad had said he’d really paddle him if he ever caught Dean shoplifting something he wanted. But sometimes Dad stole things. He’d even used Dean as a distraction while he stole some man’s credit card. Dad had sat him down and very clearly explained the difference between right and wrong. You only stole if you needed money for a hunt, to protect people. Protecting people was good, so that made it right. Stealing something you wanted for you was greedy and wrong and would get you in big trouble. But Dean was going to steal food for Sammy, because Sammy’s tummy made that horrible growling sound, and it was his job to protect and care for Sammy, so that made stealing some Lucky Charms right, didn’t it?
The thought of it still made Dean’s stomach ache. He wasn’t as smooth as Dad. He still got nervous sometimes, and his hands still shook when he was scared. What if he got caught? What would happen to Sammy then?
Dean tried not to think about it as he entered the grocery. Dean’s eyes darted around in amazement at how big this place was. It wasn’t a little local store like Dad usually took them to. This place was enormous. That was good. A clerk was much less likely to see him stealing with this many long aisles. For a few minutes, Dean just walked around and pretended to look at the food he was considering buying while he worked up his nerve. As he rounded a corner, a man there made him jump about a mile in the air.
“Would you like to try some, little boy?” the man asked.
“Huh?” Dean asked, blinking. The man was offering him a little plastic cup of cereal. This was weird. Dean had heard of pervs offering kids candy to get in their van, but not guys offering cereal in the grocery. What was this guy up to?
“It’s new Christmas Crunch, the same great taste as your favorite Cap’n Crunch now with red and green Crunch Berries.”
Dean looked at the little cereal cup. It didn’t look half bad, and maybe buying a tiny little bit like that he could actually afford to buy something. “How much is it?”
“The sample? Oh the sample is free. Just be sure to tell your mom to buy you new Christmas Crunch. There’s a toy in every box.”
Dean just about fell over. “So let me get this straight. This food is free?” His voice rose in disbelief.
“Yes, please try it and be sure to tell your mother how very much you like it.”
“My brother’s with my mother. Can he have a free cup too? Mom won’t buy it unless we both like it.” It hurt saying ‘Mom’ even just for pretend, but if that’s the lie that would get him food for Sammy, he’d say it.
“Sure,” the man said and handed him another cup.
Dean tried to hide the look of shock on his face. They just gave out food for free here. For free! Suddenly Dean’s eyes were darting around the store. There were these little sample stands everywhere. Sausage and crackers and yogurt and orange juice and all sorts of food. Some of them were manned, but a lot of the stations weren’t. He could take as much as he wanted! This just had to be a dream, but Dean didn’t care. He was starving, and he’d eat the free food in dream world while he could.
Trying not to draw too much attention to himself, Dean darted between sample stand and sample stand and emptied most of the contents into his jacket pockets. He tried to pick food that would travel well so he could get it home to Sammy, but he did let himself have the sausage and orange juice a nice little old lady offered him. All he’d had to eat in the last day was a moldy piece of bread when he’d given Sammy the last of the real food, and he was the one going on this trip, so it seemed fair enough that he get to eat that.
Dean felt as high as a kite as he headed to the exit of the store. His pockets wouldn’t hold a single other thing, but he and Sammy were going to eat well tonight. And then a strong hand gripped his arm.
“Let go of me!” Dean yelled, twisting to fight.
“Let me see what’s in your pockets,” the old man in front of him demanded.
“No, let go of me!” Dean was ready to kick the guy, but there were a whole lot of people looking now.
“You don’t tell an elder ‘no’, young man. Now let me see what’s in your pockets, or I’m calling the police.”
Tears suddenly flooded Dean’s eyes, and they embarrassingly streamed down his cheeks. Dean just couldn’t hold them back. He didn’t want to go to jail. He bet they hurt you really bad there. And what would happen to Sammy? Did Sammy even know how to call Pastor Jim? What if the police that arrested him started asking questions about Dad and then decided to arrest Dad too for leaving his kids alone? It would all be Dean’s fault. He’d let everyone down and done everything wrong, and the tears just wouldn’t stop falling.
Slowly Dean emptied the contents of his pockets into the man’s hands. He already mourned the loss of the smorgasbord he was going to have tonight, but more than anything he regretted that he couldn’t take food home to Sammy now. “He said they were free,” Dean managed to get out between sobs. He was too old to be crying like a baby like this, but he was tired and hungry and scared, and he didn’t want to go to jail, and he didn’t want Sammy to be all alone. “I didn’t want to steal. He said they were free.”
To Dean’s surprise the hand gripping his arm loosened. Dean looked up through his blurry, tear-filled eyes to the man’s face. He was shocked to find not anger, but sympathy there. “You can put them back in your pockets, son. Let’s just go have a conversation in my office, all right?”
Dean didn’t want to go to the guy’s office. He thought it likely the guy was going to paddle him there. Why else would he want to take him to his office? But it was better than having the police called, and if the guy was willing to let him keep the food, then Dean guessed it was worth it. Reluctantly, Dean let the man, apparently the store manager, lead him to his office.
“Is your family going hungry? Is that why you did this? Because your family doesn’t have enough to eat?” the manager asked.
Dean froze. If he said yes then the guy would probably call child protective services and have him taken away from his dad for neglect. But if he said no, then the guy was probably going to call the police and have him arrested for stealing. It was a trap question with no right answer. Panic started to take hold again. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe.
“Shh, it’s all right. You don’t even have to answer that. I can see it in your eyes. That happens a lot, unfortunately, this time of year. Winter heating costs go up and available labor jobs go down with the temperatures. That’s why we have a charity food drive every year. Season’s just starting, and we haven’t had all that much donated so far this year, but I’ve got a few boxes finished.” The elderly man stepped away from Dean and picked up an enormous box full of food and handed it to Dean. “Think you can manage that there, kiddo? I can give you a lift if you need.”
Dean just stared at it, uncertain of what was going on. “Th-this is for me?”
“Well, yeah, for your family. Your mom’s going to have to cook some of the good stuff in there. But that ought to feed you for a while. If you need another box before Christmas, just come on back in and talk to me. But I trust I’m not going to have to worry about your stealing all my samples again, am I?”
“No, sir,” Dean agreed quickly. He still couldn’t quite grasp what was going on, but he knew the answer to that. “Am I . . . free to go then?”
The man nodded and held the door open for Dean. Still in total shock from what was happening, Dean carried the box outside the store. It was heavy, and he had to stop a few times on the way home to rest, but he was bringing a banquet home to Sammy. He couldn’t wait to see the look on his little brother’s face as they looked through the box of treasure together.
Dean was proud that Sammy remembered to be sure it was him before he opened the door, but he was even prouder of the humungous box of groceries he had to bring home. “Hungry, munchkin?” he asked with a grin.
Sammy was in the box in all of two seconds, rooting through it for the best stuff. He had two cookies stuffed into his mouth before Dean had even realized that he’d opened the package. Dean thought he should say something about rationing, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. They were both starving, and the box was so full of food, they could afford to eat really well today. “You got me Lucky Charms!” Sammy squealed with excitement.
Dean smiled as he saw the box in his brother’s hands. “Yeah, I guess I did. Oh, and look! Macaroni and cheese, your favorite dinner. We’re going to eat good tonight.” Sam came over and hugged him and offered him a cookie of his own. Dean snuggled him. For just that one moment, everything felt right.
A knock at the door jerked Dean out of his happy thoughts. Instantly going protective and cautious, Dean stepped in front of Sam, putting himself between his brother and the door. “Who is it?” Dean asked. The grocery store manager couldn’t have called the cops on him. He’d said he could have it. He’d said it was free.
“It’s Dad, Dean. Password’s rock salt. I’m surprised you two are still here. Now come open the door,” John Winchester’s voice commanded.
“Daddy!” Sammy yelled and raced for the door.
Seeing his father home, safe and sound, now everything really was right.
-------------
Comments are love.
If any one is wondering, both "Oliver and Company" and Christmas Crunch Cereal were released in November of 1988.
Author: sirenprincess
Rating: PG
Warnings: Can overly fluffy be a warning? I don’t know what came over me.
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff
Characters: Dean (9) and Sam (5)
Spoilers: Season 1
Word Count: 3,322
Summary: December 3, 1988. John’s late returning from a hunt, which leaves Dean and Sam without any money or food. Dean’s POV as he tries to figure out how to manage on his own.
Disclaimer: This work is based on characters and situations created and owned by the CW. No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author’s Notes: Written for reapertownusa. She requested “I need a fic with wee!Dean raiding food samples (like stuffing his pockets at Costco sort of thing) to get food for Sammy when John was gone too long on a hunting trip and little Sammy thinking it was an awesomely special meal.” I made a little twist on it. I hope you like it.
Two weeks. It had been two weeks. Dean stared at the little calendar Dad had given him with the big red circle of his anticipated return date. Dean’s red Xs continued on for four days after. Feeling so very scared and alone, Dean ran his finger along Dad’s circle as if it somehow connected Dean to him, as if it might somehow bring him home. But nothing happened as Dean continued to touch the spot, and still nothing happened as he marked off the fifth day late.
“I’m hungry, Dean,” Sammy whined.
Sammy was always cranky on the best of mornings, and he got even worse when he was both tired and hungry. Dean might have been annoyed with him, but the loud gurgle of his brother’s stomach reminded Dean that Sammy probably was starving. Dean had given him the last of the animal crackers the previous night, but that had only been about five of them, and that’s all the kid had eaten for lunch or supper.
“I know you are, Sammy,” Dean whispered as he pulled his brother up to sit in the chair with him and gave him a hug. “I’ve got one piece of bread left. I can make you toast? But that’s all I got.”
“But you said Dad would be back with Lucky Charms by now,” Sammy complained.
Dean felt just about as miserable as Sammy sounded. Yeah, he’d said that, and yeah, he’d believed it, but here they were. He kept telling himself that today was the day Dad was going to show up and take them out for pancakes and sausage and eggs. He thought up imaginary reasons why the hunt might have gone long or Dad just hadn’t made it back yet. But he was running out of reasons that didn’t involve Dad being hurt, and Dean refused to even think about any of those.
“Dean’s specialty toast it is,” Dean said with a smile and a joking tone he did not feel. He gave Sammy another quick hug then hopped down and got out the plastic bag that had once held a full loaf of bread. He extracted the single last piece and scraped off the bits of mold with a butter knife, being careful to keep the entire process out of Sammy’s view. Sammy was a picky eater, and Dean did not even want to hear what he’d say if he knew what Dean was doing. Of course Dean would never even dream of feeding this to his brother if he hadn’t eaten it himself the night before. It was all he’d eaten yesterday, and aside from being hungry, Dean felt fine. So it had to be okay to feed to Sammy. It wasn’t like he had any other options.
Once the bread was toasted, it honestly didn’t look half bad. The brown, crunchy exterior seemed to hide the flecks he’d had to pull off. Dean even went so far as to put it on a little plate for Sammy so it would look good. “One order of Dean’s specialty toast. Best toast in the house,” Dean said as he put it down in front of his brother.
“But I want jelly,” Sammy said as he stared at it as if this were some kind of joke.
“Yeah, me too,” Dean thought, but he didn’t say it. “Eat,” was all he actually said in an imitation of Dad’s low and commanding voice. It was a testament to how hungry Sammy actually was that he didn’t argue and complied with the order.
“Where’s your slice?” Sammy asked as he chewed on his bread.
“Don’t talk with your mouth open,” Dean replied to distract him. “I ate before you woke up,” he lied smoothly. Oh how he wished that were true. Bacon and sausage and eggs, all the meat a boy could eat, even if that was only in his dreams.
Sitting at the table beside his brother, Dean carefully pulled out their stash of money and counted it. That couldn’t be right. Where was all the rest of it? He counted it again. He had to be counting it wrong. He just had to be. But on the third and fourth count he came up with the exact same number. $30.47. It wasn’t going to be enough. Dean suddenly didn’t feel hungry anymore; he felt sick.
Dean ran through his head what they’d spent money on. He’d paid for the second week of the hotel like Dad had told him. And they’d gone to that gas station and gotten potato chips and candy bars that one day. Dean’s chest suddenly hurt as he remembered they’d spent nearly $15 at the movie theater. It was some lame cartoon, "Oliver and Company", Dean didn’t even want to see, but Sammy had given him the puppy dog eyes and begged him to take him to it, and Dean hadn’t been able to say no. And of course Sammy had wanted a popcorn and soda. Dad would make him report when he got home. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind that Dad would spank him for squandering money they needed like that, but Dean was also certain that he deserved the sting of Dad’s heavy hand on his bottom. They were going to starve and possibly get kicked out on the street because he’d been irresponsible with their money. The guilt of that was so heavy, Dean couldn’t breathe.
For a long moment Dean looked at the telephone beside the bed. He could call Pastor Jim. He was supposed to call Pastor Jim if Dad didn’t come home, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to go to the phone. Calling Pastor Jim meant something was wrong with Dad. It meant . . . it meant Dad wasn’t coming back, and that was not something Dean was willing to accept. It wasn’t something he was even willing to think about. He’d just have to do . . . something else.
“I need to go out for a bit,” Dean said as he grabbed his jacket. “Play with Mr. Snuggles or watch TV. Don’t touch the stove. Don’t open the door unless it’s me no matter what, okay?”
“But I want to come too!” Sammy replied.
They’d been cooped up in the room for way too long, but Dean didn’t dare bring Sammy along for what he intended to try. “No,” Dean said firmly. “You stay here and you lock the door behind me or Dad will be real mad at you when he gets home. You’ll be in big, big trouble.”
If he ever gets home …. Dean made himself quickly push that thought away. Dad was fine. Dad was just fine.
Sammy’s eyes went wide and scared. He was still at the age where the threat of Dad being mad was enough to intimidate him into behaving. “Okay, Dean. I don’t want a spanking.”
“Good boy,” Dean said with a smile. It was kind of frightening how easy it was to manipulate his brother, but luckily he had Dean to always look out for him. “Now come lock the door behind me. Salt it again after me. The line’s getting a little thin.”
Once Dean was outside the motel room and he heard the click of the lock, he knocked on the door again. Dean was disappointed but not surprised when Sam immediately opened the door back up again. “Don’t open the door unless you know it’s me or Dad, Sammy! I could have been a kidnapper.”
“But I knew it was you!” Sammy insisted.
“Well check next time,” Dean commanded. He didn’t leave until they’d gone through another round and Sammy had passed the test.
The first place Dean headed was the motel office. Starving or not, it wouldn’t matter if they got kicked out of the room. Homelessness was not something Dean wanted to experience. Hopefully he had enough. “Hey, Mr. Peters. My Dad wanted me to come check how much it would be to stay one extra night. His business still isn’t done in town yet.” Dean was a little worried that the motel owner might be suspicious. Who sent a nine year old to pay their bills? He’d gotten away with saying Dad was out in the car and just sent him in once, but twice? Luckily no one seemed to care about much of anything at the type of motels Dad left them at. Money was money.
“Twenty-nine ninety-five a night,” the man told him. “Cheaper by the week.”
Dean cringed at the price but pulled his money out anyway. “Just the one night,” Dean said. “Dad’s sure his business will be wrapped up today.” It had to be. It just . . . had to be. One night. They had one night before they’d be forced to call Pastor Jim, and …. Dean couldn’t even think about it.
Dean left the office and started walking down the busy road. He remembered there was a grocery store a few blocks away. Of course he only had fifty two cents, and that wouldn’t be enough to feed even one of them for a day, but maybe it was enough to buy something. Dean couldn’t believe he was contemplating doing what he was really thinking about doing. Stealing was wrong, and Dad had said he’d really paddle him if he ever caught Dean shoplifting something he wanted. But sometimes Dad stole things. He’d even used Dean as a distraction while he stole some man’s credit card. Dad had sat him down and very clearly explained the difference between right and wrong. You only stole if you needed money for a hunt, to protect people. Protecting people was good, so that made it right. Stealing something you wanted for you was greedy and wrong and would get you in big trouble. But Dean was going to steal food for Sammy, because Sammy’s tummy made that horrible growling sound, and it was his job to protect and care for Sammy, so that made stealing some Lucky Charms right, didn’t it?
The thought of it still made Dean’s stomach ache. He wasn’t as smooth as Dad. He still got nervous sometimes, and his hands still shook when he was scared. What if he got caught? What would happen to Sammy then?
Dean tried not to think about it as he entered the grocery. Dean’s eyes darted around in amazement at how big this place was. It wasn’t a little local store like Dad usually took them to. This place was enormous. That was good. A clerk was much less likely to see him stealing with this many long aisles. For a few minutes, Dean just walked around and pretended to look at the food he was considering buying while he worked up his nerve. As he rounded a corner, a man there made him jump about a mile in the air.
“Would you like to try some, little boy?” the man asked.
“Huh?” Dean asked, blinking. The man was offering him a little plastic cup of cereal. This was weird. Dean had heard of pervs offering kids candy to get in their van, but not guys offering cereal in the grocery. What was this guy up to?
“It’s new Christmas Crunch, the same great taste as your favorite Cap’n Crunch now with red and green Crunch Berries.”
Dean looked at the little cereal cup. It didn’t look half bad, and maybe buying a tiny little bit like that he could actually afford to buy something. “How much is it?”
“The sample? Oh the sample is free. Just be sure to tell your mom to buy you new Christmas Crunch. There’s a toy in every box.”
Dean just about fell over. “So let me get this straight. This food is free?” His voice rose in disbelief.
“Yes, please try it and be sure to tell your mother how very much you like it.”
“My brother’s with my mother. Can he have a free cup too? Mom won’t buy it unless we both like it.” It hurt saying ‘Mom’ even just for pretend, but if that’s the lie that would get him food for Sammy, he’d say it.
“Sure,” the man said and handed him another cup.
Dean tried to hide the look of shock on his face. They just gave out food for free here. For free! Suddenly Dean’s eyes were darting around the store. There were these little sample stands everywhere. Sausage and crackers and yogurt and orange juice and all sorts of food. Some of them were manned, but a lot of the stations weren’t. He could take as much as he wanted! This just had to be a dream, but Dean didn’t care. He was starving, and he’d eat the free food in dream world while he could.
Trying not to draw too much attention to himself, Dean darted between sample stand and sample stand and emptied most of the contents into his jacket pockets. He tried to pick food that would travel well so he could get it home to Sammy, but he did let himself have the sausage and orange juice a nice little old lady offered him. All he’d had to eat in the last day was a moldy piece of bread when he’d given Sammy the last of the real food, and he was the one going on this trip, so it seemed fair enough that he get to eat that.
Dean felt as high as a kite as he headed to the exit of the store. His pockets wouldn’t hold a single other thing, but he and Sammy were going to eat well tonight. And then a strong hand gripped his arm.
“Let go of me!” Dean yelled, twisting to fight.
“Let me see what’s in your pockets,” the old man in front of him demanded.
“No, let go of me!” Dean was ready to kick the guy, but there were a whole lot of people looking now.
“You don’t tell an elder ‘no’, young man. Now let me see what’s in your pockets, or I’m calling the police.”
Tears suddenly flooded Dean’s eyes, and they embarrassingly streamed down his cheeks. Dean just couldn’t hold them back. He didn’t want to go to jail. He bet they hurt you really bad there. And what would happen to Sammy? Did Sammy even know how to call Pastor Jim? What if the police that arrested him started asking questions about Dad and then decided to arrest Dad too for leaving his kids alone? It would all be Dean’s fault. He’d let everyone down and done everything wrong, and the tears just wouldn’t stop falling.
Slowly Dean emptied the contents of his pockets into the man’s hands. He already mourned the loss of the smorgasbord he was going to have tonight, but more than anything he regretted that he couldn’t take food home to Sammy now. “He said they were free,” Dean managed to get out between sobs. He was too old to be crying like a baby like this, but he was tired and hungry and scared, and he didn’t want to go to jail, and he didn’t want Sammy to be all alone. “I didn’t want to steal. He said they were free.”
To Dean’s surprise the hand gripping his arm loosened. Dean looked up through his blurry, tear-filled eyes to the man’s face. He was shocked to find not anger, but sympathy there. “You can put them back in your pockets, son. Let’s just go have a conversation in my office, all right?”
Dean didn’t want to go to the guy’s office. He thought it likely the guy was going to paddle him there. Why else would he want to take him to his office? But it was better than having the police called, and if the guy was willing to let him keep the food, then Dean guessed it was worth it. Reluctantly, Dean let the man, apparently the store manager, lead him to his office.
“Is your family going hungry? Is that why you did this? Because your family doesn’t have enough to eat?” the manager asked.
Dean froze. If he said yes then the guy would probably call child protective services and have him taken away from his dad for neglect. But if he said no, then the guy was probably going to call the police and have him arrested for stealing. It was a trap question with no right answer. Panic started to take hold again. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe.
“Shh, it’s all right. You don’t even have to answer that. I can see it in your eyes. That happens a lot, unfortunately, this time of year. Winter heating costs go up and available labor jobs go down with the temperatures. That’s why we have a charity food drive every year. Season’s just starting, and we haven’t had all that much donated so far this year, but I’ve got a few boxes finished.” The elderly man stepped away from Dean and picked up an enormous box full of food and handed it to Dean. “Think you can manage that there, kiddo? I can give you a lift if you need.”
Dean just stared at it, uncertain of what was going on. “Th-this is for me?”
“Well, yeah, for your family. Your mom’s going to have to cook some of the good stuff in there. But that ought to feed you for a while. If you need another box before Christmas, just come on back in and talk to me. But I trust I’m not going to have to worry about your stealing all my samples again, am I?”
“No, sir,” Dean agreed quickly. He still couldn’t quite grasp what was going on, but he knew the answer to that. “Am I . . . free to go then?”
The man nodded and held the door open for Dean. Still in total shock from what was happening, Dean carried the box outside the store. It was heavy, and he had to stop a few times on the way home to rest, but he was bringing a banquet home to Sammy. He couldn’t wait to see the look on his little brother’s face as they looked through the box of treasure together.
Dean was proud that Sammy remembered to be sure it was him before he opened the door, but he was even prouder of the humungous box of groceries he had to bring home. “Hungry, munchkin?” he asked with a grin.
Sammy was in the box in all of two seconds, rooting through it for the best stuff. He had two cookies stuffed into his mouth before Dean had even realized that he’d opened the package. Dean thought he should say something about rationing, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. They were both starving, and the box was so full of food, they could afford to eat really well today. “You got me Lucky Charms!” Sammy squealed with excitement.
Dean smiled as he saw the box in his brother’s hands. “Yeah, I guess I did. Oh, and look! Macaroni and cheese, your favorite dinner. We’re going to eat good tonight.” Sam came over and hugged him and offered him a cookie of his own. Dean snuggled him. For just that one moment, everything felt right.
A knock at the door jerked Dean out of his happy thoughts. Instantly going protective and cautious, Dean stepped in front of Sam, putting himself between his brother and the door. “Who is it?” Dean asked. The grocery store manager couldn’t have called the cops on him. He’d said he could have it. He’d said it was free.
“It’s Dad, Dean. Password’s rock salt. I’m surprised you two are still here. Now come open the door,” John Winchester’s voice commanded.
“Daddy!” Sammy yelled and raced for the door.
Seeing his father home, safe and sound, now everything really was right.
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If any one is wondering, both "Oliver and Company" and Christmas Crunch Cereal were released in November of 1988.