Daddy thinks he's making sense. He's not, but Sammy knows if he said so, Daddy would get all red in the face and use words like "logic" and "respect" and he might even get a spanking and the monster will still be in his closet.
At least Dean knows. “Dad,” Dean says slowly, like he wants to make sure he doesn’t get a spanking, but Daddy hardly ever spanks him, just shakes his head and gives him the silent treatment. “Wouldn’t Sammy be safer with us? I mean, waiting in the car?” Sammy smiles but Dean doesn't look over at him.
“Dean, get your gear,” is all Daddy says, like he can't hear Dean even though Dean is right there. Even if he can't hear, he can read lips, right?
“Dad,” Dean tries again, his eyes on the gun he's assembling, “he’s only nine.” Dean's been waiting weeks to hold that gun, so Sammy's surprised he's able to talk while he touches it.
Daddy’s face lights up like Dean's just walked into a trap during training. “When you were nine, Dean, you could handle yourself. Let’s give Sammy a chance to prove he can too.”
Yeah. It's all a big favor Daddy's doing him. Right. And the thing in his closet only wants to bring him lollipops.
He looks desperately at Dean, but Dean’s face is all tight and funny and he knows his brother won’t make another sound. At the door, Dean puts out his hand for a fist-bump but he pretends not to see it and closes the door behind them.
He locks the door and goes straight to Dean’s dresser. He pulls out the huge bag of peanut M&M’s Dean had hidden – gross – under his socks and rips it open, shoving handfuls of candy down his throat.
The bag is half empty when it hits him that Dean could die out there. He’s big and strong and brave, but werewolves are bigger and stronger and have claws and fangs and four legs so they’re really fast. Dean could die and Dad would bring his body home and they’d bury him and move far away and it would just be him and Dad forever.
All he’d have left of Dean is a bag of his favorite candy. He begins to eat again, slowly this time, swallowing hard as each piece of candy tries to get stuck in his throat. He’s sick to his stomach when he finishes but he presses the bag flat, carefully smoothing it down. This is what he can carry around of Dean’s to remember him by. He tucks it under Dean’s pillow and falls asleep with one hand still on the yellow plastic.