The Runt of the Litter

Swear Jar

One more. Because I really do love you guys, and I really do feel super guilty.

Anna is eighteen months old.

Swear Jar

"Sammy, stop arguing," John demanded and pointed one last time to the duffel bag on the table. "For once, just do what I tell you and clean the damn guns."

Sam glared at John, practically nose to nose with him after a recent growth spurt. But he was out of points to make. He'd been repeating the same fact for a half hour now, and it was getting him nowhere with his father. They just didn't have the same priorities. John wanted a babysitter and a weapons cleaner while he and Dean visited a crime scene and examined a dead body. Sam wanted to take a physics test, turn in an English paper, and all around be a normal kid. What kind of father demands his son play hooky rather than demanding he go to school?

"Yes, sir," he finally said, but there was an audible angry force behind the words, which earned Sam a sharp look from his father. He was giving in, doing what he was told, and even giving his father that answer that communicated the ultimate respect. Nothing was ever good enough.

"I'm going to pick up some grub. Tell Dean I'll be back in twenty."

Sam nodded instead of giving the military answer John wanted. But, for once, his father seemed to understand he couldn't ask for more and just snatched up his jacket to go. As soon as the door had shut, Sam let out a heavy sigh of frustration. He wanted to throw something, but he knew a hundred times better. Instead, he moved over to the closed bathroom door where Dean was giving their baby sister a bath and knocked loudly twice. "Hurry up," he demanded shortly instead of giving the exact message he'd been told to pass on.

The bathroom door opened almost immediately, revealing Dean and the little green-eyed baby in his arms, wrapped in a towel with damp baby curls on the sides of her head and a wide grin that showed all her tiny teeth and could soften any warrior's heart of stone. "What crawled up your ass and died?" Dean asked when Sam didn't even twitch a smile.

Sam snorted bitterly like it should have been obvious just what his problem was. It should have been, really. He grouchily and silently went back over to the table where the weapons duffel still lay and sat down to get to work. The sooner he got this chore over with, the sooner he could work on some schoolwork, maybe call somebody in each of his classes and get his work done for tomorrow while stuck in the motel room. Not to mention, it was a hundred times harder to get anything done when he was babysitting Anna. She was constantly on the move these days, running back and forth, trying to stick her fingers into outlets or climb onto beds and chairs and side tables. She was a little troublemaker, and she'd learned how to climb out of her playpen, though a few times she'd knocked the whole thing over in the process, so leaving her there with a collection of toys didn't even work anymore.

"Hey." Sam glanced up, halfway through unzipping the duffel to see Dean looking disapprovingly at him. "Leave the guns until you're feelin' less broody, huh?" He walked over with the baby, now dressed in a fresh diaper and purple onesie with the words Taco Bout Cute and a little taco graphic on the front.

"I'm not gonna shoot anybody," Sam snapped, offended at the very thought.

"Never said you were," Dean answered. He just wanted Sam focused if he was gonna be dismantling and cleaning all their firearms. He set Anna smack in the middle of Sam's lap and ruffled her short, damp hair.

"Ssssam," Anna hissed with a smile. "Sssss-"

Sam finally smiled a little. "Point taken. I don't have to be an ass just 'cause Dad's an ass." He ignored the dark look Dean shot him and focused on Anna's wide grin as she grabbed Sam's shirt collar and pulled herself to stand in his lap. She looked so happy, Sam just couldn't help himself. "Yeah, see, she agrees with me. Dad's an ass," he smirked.

Dean opened his mouth to reprimand his brother, but Anna spoke first. "Ass!"

Both their faces lit with surprise, then amusement. They both burst out laughing.

"Dada ass."

Sam only laughed harder, but Dean's smile fell away. "She can't be saying that when he gets back."

"Dada ass."

"He sure is," Sam agreed wholeheartedly.

La Fin