Every Hero Has an Origin Story

Stand By Me


Stand By Me

"Dean, go see what's wrong with your brother."

Dean obliged immediately. John was seated at the table, hovering over some books he borrowed from a friend Dean didn't recognize. His dad had a lot of new "friends" lately, and they all had a lot of books to show him.

They were staying in a hotel room, which Dean personally found very exciting. He had never been in a hotel before, but he really wanted to. Of course, this one was much smaller than the ones on TV, and the neighbors were much scarier, but Dean didn't mind. It was an adventure.

That's what Dean was calling this... this... road trip his father had taken them on. When John had first decided to pack up and leave home, Dean thought it would just be for a few days. A week at most.

They had been gone months now. Dean was getting homesick.

Sammy was in his crib. It was a brand new crib, that his dad could fold up and fit in the back of the Impala. Dean thought it was pretty cool, how something so big could be easily made so small.

Sammy was crying, and as Dean approached he only cried louder. Dean pulled up his little blue stepping stool so that he could reach over the railing and pick the baby up. Dean loved holding Sammy. He had been holding him more and more recently, which was strange because his mother never had him hold the baby unless she was right there with him.

Dean picked up the crying child, who immediately got quieter at his touch. The baby blinked it's big round eyes up at Dean, who smiled back. Sam reached out his hand towards Dean, grabbing at nothing in particular. He giggled and grinned.

John noticed the lack of crying, and turned to look at them. "Is he okay? Does he need to eat?"

Dean glanced at Sam, and back at his dad. He honestly didn't know what Sammy wanted. He stopped crying as soon as he held him. Either way, he wasn't going to speak, so he just stared at his dad with wide eyes.

John sighed. He kept talking to Dean as if he was going to respond. He should've known by now he would only be met with silence. "Bring 'em here, Dean. I got him."

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, making sure he wouldn't fall, and brought him across the room to his dad.

John picked Sam out of Dean's arms and stared at the boy. He didn't look nearly as much like Mary as Dean did, but it still hurt to look at him. Sammy glanced over to Dean, reaching out for him once more. "Here, take him back. He wants you." Dean happily accepted the baby. "His formula's in the fridge. See if he'll eat, will ya?" John asked dismissively, turning back to his work.

Dean nodded. He put down Sam carefully next to the mini fridge. Sam, at almost 8 months old, could sit by himself, and had begun to crawl. Dean was fascinated just by watching Sam learn new things as simple as crawling and grabbing things. He opened the fridge and found a bottle of formula from earlier when Sammy wasn't hungry.

He sat down in front of him, and held out the bottle to Sam, but kept it just far enough that he would have to crawl over to him to reach it. Sammy reached out, and upon realizing that it was too far away, tried to stand.

Dean gleamed, holding out his hand to give him something to hold onto. This was new for Sam.

Dean looked over to his dad, hoping that he was watching Sam, too, but he wasn't paying attention.

Sam finally managed to stand, but only by holding onto Dean's hand. The baby was grinning, and once again reaching for the bottle. Dean decided that while he didn't make it over, he had earned the reward, so he handed it to him.

Sam plopped back down onto the ground, almost falling backwards, but Dean was able to catch him first. Dean watched him in awe, smiling to himself. "Good job, Sammy."

John looked up from his books when he heard his son say his first word in months. He stared at the scene: both his sons sitting on the motel floor, the younger of the two drinking from a bottle. He couldn't figure out what may have triggered Dean to actually speak. "Good job for what, Dean? What did he do?"

Dean glanced up from Sammy to meet his fathers gaze. He just stared at him for a while, and at first John thought he wasn't going to speak again. "He stood up." Dean answered, simply. His voice was a little hoarse from disuse, but otherwise it was as if he had been talking this whole time.

"Good job, kiddo." John smiled, turning back to his work, and Dean wondered which son he was speaking to.

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