Sammy went under so deep, he didn't move a muscle when I stood up with him still in my arms to grab my papers and my phone to keep getting my work done. He stayed against my shoulder, his little arms more or less wrapped around my neck, dead sound asleep.
So, I got some research done, and a few phone calls made, and then for a little while, I just sat with Sammy on my lap and in my arms. I never used to understand the way John would look at the boys, when they were doing something together, off, away, not even looking at him. He'd look at them and his face would clear of all the stress and aggravation, and he'd look like a young father adoring his kids. Nothing more, but sure not one thing less.
I never got that feeling - until now. Of course, I never had a whole lotta chance before. Everything I ever got to see before of Sam was from the view over Dean's shoulder, never up close and personal. Because any other time they were here, Dean kept a close watch on Sammy, so that the kid was never on his own, never out of Dean's sight, and sure never alone with me, much less asleep in my arms.
Usually, I was happy that I never had kids. Usually. But this warm little bundle, his warm little hands around my neck, his heartbeat strong against mine, this little boy was making me wonder if I was going to stay happy.
A creak of my floorboards made me look up, and I came face to face with Winchester Fury. Dean. Arms crossed, brow lowered, lip curled.
"Why. Do you. Have. Sammy?" He demanded it of me like he'd found me turning the tumblers on the Fort Knox vault.
"He came downstairs a couple hours ago."
"He wasn't supposed to leave the room."
"Well, then, I guess you shouldn't have told him to go away."
"I didn't tell him to go away." Dean said, then he thought about it a little and his face fell. He dropped his arms and his scowl. "He was leaning over me and his knee was digging in my back," He explained as quiet as he could. "I just wanted him to get out of my back."
"Well, Sammy seemed to think you told him to go find another planet to live on. I never seen a heart broke into as many pieces as his was when he came downstairs. You can still see the puddle over there were he was crying his eyes out."
Dean turned and had himself a look, then turned back to me. He held his arms out.
"I'll take him back upstairs."
Well, I looked at Dean, and I looked at Sam, and I looked back at Dean.
"You're gonna carry him?"
"Yeah." He answered, short and simple, like I was asking an easy question. Then his eyebrows pulled together and his hands went on his hips and he glowered at me. "You think I can't?"
Right then I thought Dean could and would carry anything he wanted just because I told him he couldn't.
"I think you ain't been 100 percent the past twenty-four hours."
"He. Belongs. With. Me."
"You hear me saying otherwise?" I asked him. "Why don't you climb yourself up here on the davenport and I'll set him next to you. Then I can get you some breakfast or something."
He thought about it. He scowled a little and he thought about it. Then with a look on his face like I was asking something awfully awful from him, he climbed up onto the davenport and plunked his butt down with a 'there, happy now?' attitude.
I pretended not to notice the silent lip.
When I shifted Sammy over, meaning to lay him down next to Dean, Dean lifted his arms up and took his little brother into his lap.
And just that fast, I missed the warm, heavy bundle.
I pretended not to notice that either.
"Now, if you're up to it, I got pancakes for breakfast."
"Did Sammy eat yet?"
"No, he fell asleep while we were making them. He hasn't had any breakfast yet."
"He needs to eat right after he gets up." I was forcefully informed.
"And I woulda fed him if he'd stayed awake three minutes longer." I shot back. And when I got the death-glare, I added, "But I guess he was wore out from all the crying he did after you told him to go away."
If I hadn't been watching close, I mighta missed the flash-of-a-second drop of Dean's glare, it was there and gone just that quick. Then the glare was back, if a little less lethal.
"He needs to eat." I was told again, in a slightly less sharp tone.
"Well, give me a minute and I'll have the pancakes heated up for you."
"Sammy doesn't like butter on his pancakes."
"I cut 'em for him."
"Tell me when they're ready and I'll bring Sammy out."
"All right." I said it maybe crankier than I needed to, but I was getting a little bit tired of being bossed by this kid.
Or maybe I was just the teeniest bit sorry that now that Dean was back among the living, Sammy was gonna be back behind the barricade of his big brother.
I turned away, intending to head to the kitchen, when the little bundle woke himself up. He stretched his arms, nearly whacking Dean in the face, and yawned so wide I could see his tonsils. Then he blinked up and down and around and finally laid eyes on his brother.
And then poor Dean got himself armed and kneed and elbowed as Sammy pivoted himself to be face to face with all the answers to all his prayers.
"Dean! You were sick and you didn't feel good and Daddy said to not make no noise so I played real quiet and you was sleeping and then Daddy was sleeping and then –"
Right just then, right when I figured all was right in Sammy's world again, he stopped babbling on and stared at Dean.
"You told me 'go 'way'." He accused.
"I did not. I told you to get your knee out of my back. You weren't supposed to leave the room."
Sam looked around himself like Dean was crazy.
"I din leave the room." He insisted and I think Dean got it just as soon as I did.
"Sammy – 'don't leave the room' means don't leave the room, not don't leave the house."
That only seemed to deepen Sammy's confusion.
"What's a house?"
Dean rolled his eyes and grumbled. He pushed Sam off his lap onto the couch and pushed himself off the couch onto his feet.
"This is a house." He said, gesturing around the room and to the hallway and kitchen outside the room. "Where our bed is, is the room. Anything outside of that is the house. You're not supposed to leave the room."
Sammy blinked. He blinked a lot and those fat tears rolled down his face again and that quivering lower lip pouted again.
"You told me 'go 'way'." He accused his big brother in a whisper. And then just for good measure, he accused it again. Louder. "You told me 'go 'way'!"
"Ugghhh…Sammy – do I ever want you to go away from me?"
"Unh hunh…" Sammy nodded. "Inna bafroom." He was still weepy and miserable and his voice squeaked on that last word.
Dean rolled his eyes again and grumbled again and stomped himself out to my kitchen. Sammy climbed off the couch, scrubbing his eyes, and in his clothes-over-pajamas, he toddled himself out to the kitchen after his brother.
To be continued