Wee!Sam::as requested by
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katie__pillar::
“…And a Spiderman costume like Tommy Matthews has! And popcorn! And,” Sammy pulled a crumpled newspaper supplement out of his pocket, “a nowl like this one.”
Dean looked at the picture in disbelief. It was of a freaky china plate with a gold rim and a picture of an owl on it. It certainly was the sort of thing you might want for your birthday. If you were a million years old and lived in house that smelt of wee.
“You’re not having that, Sammy,” he said authoritatively. It was his job to nip Sammy’s stupider ideas in the bud. That was what big brothers were for, after all. And Sammy couldn’t help it. He was only five.
“I want a nowl!” demanded Sammy. Dean rolled his eyes.
“Jeez, Sammy, you’re such a baby! That’d be a lame present. Maybe you can have a Spiderman costume – that’d be cool.” Sammy was not to be placated by the lure of a Spidey mask, though.
“Want a nowl!” He stamped a foot, and Dean decided that his father could deal with this.
“Dad!” he hollered, and moments later John Winchester’s head poked around the door, a hopeful glint in his eye. Dean had been given the job of finding out a suitable present for Sammy, and John was optimistic that he would have found something good. But Dean was not looking impressed.
“Tell Dad what you want,” he ordered Sammy. Sammy offered up a smile to his father, a smile which John found almost impossible to resist.
“Want a nowl,” he said sweetly, confident that his father would understand exactly why any person would want an owl for their birthday.
“A what?” asked John blankly.
“An owl,” said Dean, thrusting the picture at him. “Sammy,” with as contemptuous a glance as a nine year old could manage which, when the nine year old was Dean, was really quite contemptuous, “wants an owl for his birthday.” John crouched down. This was OK. He could be understanding about this.
“You can’t have an owl, kiddo,” he said, breaking the news gently. “Where would we put it?” From the look on Dean’s face, that was the wrong tack to have taken. Sammy grinned again, and pulled at John’s hand. Uh oh. The kid had actually considered this question. That was bad.
“In here, Dad!” Sammy opened the closet door. It was spacious, certainly. And… was that a newspaper bowl? “I made it for the nowl poo,” said Sammy, proudly. Okaaaay.
“Sammy, we can’t look after an owl,” said John desperately. That was obvious, right? The Winchester household was no place for an owl. Sammy looked mutinous.
“Let’s go for ice cream!” said John. The owl subject was, if not forgotten, then at the very least, gone.
…
It was Sammy’s birthday three days later. John and Dean gave him his presents: a Spiderman costume, popcorn, and a felt owl. Sammy called it Elvis, and swore to look after it forever.
…
“Hey, Samantha, look at that!” Sam deliberately ignored Dean’s taunt, and glanced across the road to the sign standing several feet high.
Fairview: Home To The World’s Oldest Owl.
“So?”
“Don’t you remember? Owls? Elvis?” Sam shrugged, and Dean ducked his head and stirred his coffee. He guessed some things you could never get back.
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