Disclaimer: Eric Kripke is the metaphorical father of Supernatural. Not I. "Sixteen Going On Seventeen" of the 1965 film The Sound of Music is the work of Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II.

Warning 1: Thou shall not steal. Plagiarism is a dastardly deed. Thank you.

Warning 2: No beta reader. Apologies for everything wrong, including any uncharacteristic behavior of the Winchester brothers.

Timeline: This is probably AU, but it is undoubtedly a "pre-series" piece. The brothers are teenagers.

Yes, this is a parody of "Sixteen Going On Seventeen" from The Sound of Music. No, wait! Please don't flee! (I'm not possessed!) I changed at least 90% of the words, so, hopefully, it's not too outlandish or redundant with the Supernatural characters. The rhyming scheme may deviate slightly from the one in "Sixteen Going On Seventeen." For readers who are not TSOM fans, audio selections/scene reenactments of the "Sixteen Going On Seventeen" musical number from the 1965 film can be seen on . Search with key terms "Sixteen Going On Seventeen" and "Sound of Music." (Personally, I referred to the 1965 film number with Charmain Carr and Daniel Truhitte.)

Unitalized words in unitalized quotes indicate singing ("word").

'word' thoughts

The Sound of the Supernatural (and of a Certain Brother)

By Jan J. (P.J.P.), Little Sister's Keepress

"Look, Dean. I don't see why Dad wants you to walk with me," Sam Winchester complains. "I'm not a baby."

"Hey, cool it, Sam," chides the taller boy, Dean Winchester. "Anyway, I think the lady doth protest too much."

"I am not a girl!" Sam's eyebrows furrow with vexation at the last comment. "It's not that dark out. Why must you guys always hover over me?"

"We have to protect you, buddy," Dean asserts. "Dad cares about you."

"Yeah?" Sam questions dubiously.

Both brothers stop below a street lamp. Light reverberates off of Sam's bangs, and a brownish glow manifests. It is as if the youngest Winchester's head is decked off with a halo. Dean steps forward and rotates Sam so that the older can study brown eyes.

"You know that," says Dean softly. He ruffles Sam's hair, and the illusion of the luminous halo dissipates.

"Sure," Sam mumbles. He turns away from Dean; his hair is in complete disarray. "But you don't have to go all feral when I'm missing for several seconds. Honestly, sometimes you're as bad as the things we hunt."

"Great, Sam. That's exactly what I like to hear," Dean dispassionately states. "I'm a supernatural monster who wants to shield you away from evil and will tear apart anyone who tries to harm you."

Sam peeks a look at Dean. He witnesses the forlorn expression on his big brother's face and clenches a fistful of Dean's ebony shirt.

"I didn't mean it like that," placates Sam.

"Whatever, baby," Dean gibes. His acerbic tone might as well be as lethal as a malediction to Sam.

The shorter boy recoils from Dean and starts to trudge away in an effort to hide impeding tears.

"Where are you going?" Dean's voice strikes out like a Jack Spaniel wasp.

He saunters up to his little brother and grips the younger's arm to halt Sam's progress.

"Thought I made you mad," replies Sam hesitantly.

"You'll make me madder if you dare walk out of my sight," Dean says tersely. His green eyes glint from the overhead lamp. "Try it again, and I will bodily carry you back to the motel, Sammy."

"Dean, I'm not—"

"Don't start," Dean growls.

The two resume their trek side-by-side. Windows from closed shops and businesses flank the pair and glitter in the dim light. The Winchesters' reflections are obscure like the brothers' sinuous shadows. Sam sighs and catches silhouettes of stars through the miasma as he peers up at the sky. Hearing his sibling's discontent, Dean wraps an arm around Sam's shoulders.

'I wish Dean would really just listen to what I have to say,' Sam thinks. He glances up at the taller brunet.

'I wish Sam would shut up for once and hear what I'm really trying to say,' Dean wistfully muses. He fiddles with his amulet and unintentionally meets Sam's gaze.

In this impromptu lock of looks, both Winchesters experience a giddy sensation. Sam falters and stumbles before Dean manages to steady him.

"Sam, you all right?" Dean worriedly inquires. He brushes away some hair strands from his brother's glazed eyes.

"Uh, I think so," the other answers liltingly. "This churning feeling in me . . . makes me want to open up? I don't know."

Suddenly, Dean slumps against Sam. The elder sibling gasps.

"Dean!" Sam yells. He struggles to support the heavier teenager.

"I'm okay, Sammy," Dean rasps out. "Just felt a little light-headed. Maybe all the pollution in this town is getting to us both, huh?"

Sam dishearteningly stares at him. Thoughts shuttle through the younger's mind. 'Does Dean always look so gaunt? Is it because of me?'

Sam cannot help but frown; his tightened, drawn face is magnified in the opposite display window.

The elder Winchester straightens to his full height with a spry leap. The emerald-eyed boy is bursting at the larynx to ease Sam's qualms.

Dean solemnly sings:

"You glare, little bro, through bleak glass,

At things beyond my control.

Your soul, little bro, must be held fast,

From evil's grim vitriol."

"Vitriol?" Sam mouths silently. 'I never knew Dean paid attention to me when I studied aloud for my vocabulary tests.'

Dean fondly relays:

"You are thirteen going on fourteen.

Sammy, I'll be quite blunt.

Gotta practice, be alert and focused.

Sammy, it's for the hunt!"

Sam huffs in annoyance. 'Dad and Dean could be clones of each other. Hunting is their top priority!' The adolescent faces a shop's expansive window. His reflection sports a scowl, which Dean spots from his position posterior to Sam.

Dean stealthily approaches his brother's still, unaware figure from behind and grabs Sam in a loose headlock.

Dean vocalizes:

"You are thirteen going on fourteen.

Monsters will not relent.

Hungry ghouls and demons to duel,

May fail to fall for your feints."

Sam pushes Dean off, but Dean does not fully relinquish his grapple on the younger.

The elder Winchester agitatedly intones:

"Totally overwhelmed are you,

To jump into the fray.

Panicked and lost and heedless are you,

When you become the prey!"

Dean releases Sam who exasperatedly rolls his eyes. Whirling around, Dean clambers atop a bench and points vigorously at Sam. Smiling, the taller boy vows:

"You need someone older and awesome,

Guiding you through and through.

I am seventeen going on eighteen.

I'll take care of you."

Sam reaches for Dean's wrists and pulls him down to the ground.

The youngest Winchester chants:

"I am thirteen going on fourteen.

Dad thinks that I'm inept.

Hunters he rids argue I'm just a kid,

And resignedly I accept."

Dean nudges his sibling gently.

Sam's face is crestfallen as he warbles:

"I am thirteen going on fourteen,

Sheparded like a lamb.

Poltergeists that float, salt rounds we tote,

Weary of these I am!"

Sam stretches laboriously to tap Dean once on the nose. He incredulously echoes:

"Totally overwhelmed I am,

To jump into the fray?

Panicked and lost are you—not this Sam,

If I become the prey."

Dean sheepishly ducks his head to escape Sam's flashing brown irises but discovers his evergeen pair to be ensnared by his brother's set.

Sam makes a show of twisting away from Dean. At the last second, he unexpectedly whips around and confirms with a sportive grin:

"I need someone older and wiser,

Guiding me through and through.

You are seventeen going on eighteen.

I'll put my faith in you."

Sam's final line heralds a spurt of turbulent wind, which knocks him into Dean. As they try to regain their wits about them, the exigency to harmonize their emotions subsides, and the wind immediately dies out.

"Well, I think that was the longest heart-to-heart we ever had, Samantha," admits Dean.

"See? Nothing supernatural got me!" Sam remarks.

"That's only because I'm here with you, Sammy!" exclaims Dean. "At times, you sure can be a magnet for the weird and wicked."

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are," counters Dean. "You are such a geek. Half the time, you have your head stuck in a book. Heck, Dad and I could be singing and tap-dancing, and you wouldn't notice!"

"Like you two are any better!" accuses Sam. "When it comes to hunting, you don't see anything else."

"Hey," Dean soothes. "That's not true. We see you first."

Sam fidgets in embarrassment and leans against the elder's frame. Dean laughs.

"I guess we're all alike in our doggedness," reveals Dean. "After all, we are Winchesters."

"Yeah," concedes Sam, "we're family."

They continue their journey. A scarlet moon shines above; it is masked by overcast mists and wisps of clouds.