The Runt of the Litter

In All My Spite

Note: I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. I know I'm coming very late in the day with this. I just had the crappiest week and got called in to work today for an extra eight hour shift that I hadn't planned on... so I didn't have time to finish this chapter this morning like I'd planned, and I just barely finished writing it as a result. But it is still Saturday, and hopefully somebody is awake right now to enjoy this before it's officially Sunday. Sorry, Beautifuls, I honestly didn't intend to post so late.

I also did some research for this chapter. I have a seven year old niece and I've babysat other kids who are around the age of six or seven before, but I've never seen a kid that age have a tantrum. (Sort of? I've seen them get upset, but not have a full-blown tantrum) and both KourtneyB and poppyy97 requested to see how Sam and Dean would react if Anna had a full-blown tantrum. In order for it to be both of them, Anna had to be seven, and in order for a seven year old to throw a tantrum, they've got to be pretty emotionally distressed. So... I guess what I'm saying is, while this might be entertaining, it won't be happy.

Oh yeah, and the title is a line from "Turn It Off" by Paramore. Which you should listen to. Does anyone listen to the songs I recommend? Guys, they're good. I promise. (And this is exactly how I sound when I try to convince everyone I know to watch Supernatural)

Moving on... Anna is seven.

YOU GUYS!

A fantastic wattpader just gave me an incredible gift... She drew pictures to go with some chapters. And I'm adding them because she said I could and because she did such a good job and they're too perfect not to share. Thank you SO MUCH @Musicpotterhead, you're a goddess.

Tap on the photo to see the whole thing, guys, they're all beautiful. And I'm putting this message at the beginning of each chapter that has an image, so you all take a second and look at them. And tell Musicpotterhead how amazing she is. Because she is. She's amazing.

In All My Spite

Curled up on the backseat with her stuffed frog pressed into her chest, Anna stared out the window at the foggy night sky. The stars were still there on nights like this, Dean had once explained to her. They were just all covered up, so she couldn't see them. It seemed only right they would be covered up on the night their father showed up for all of fifteen minutes and then left again, racing away in his old truck to go after the demon that was still picking their family apart at every turn.

The car was quiet the way it usually was when they were still on the road this late at night. But this wasn't like most of those times. Nobody was sleeping, but nobody was talking or even breathing loud enough to be heard. There was no music playing softly in the background. There wasn't even the occasional squeak of leather as somebody shifted in their seat. Inside the Impala, it was dead silent.

They drove like that for hours.

()()()

"Put your toys away and come eat," Sam prompted for the third time in a few minutes. He put his hands on his hips and stared down the seven year old on the motel carpet who was glaring at him with venom. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable request to him, but his sister seemed to think differently.

Anna released a grumpy sigh, and the deadly look on her face didn't fade. She stood up and irritably threw the lego she'd been holding at the nearest wall, eliciting an immediate reaction.

"Hey!" Sam snapped at her. That got Dean's attention from where he was standing on the other side of the room, talking on the phone. He looked over at them with a frown. "What was that?" Sam demanded, lowering his voice so as not to disturb Dean. He crouched so he was at her level, hoping that would help this interaction go a little more smoothly. "You know better than throwing things when you're upset."