When Sammy turned two, Dean decided now was the right time to potty train him. So one day when their Dad was gone on a long hunt, he took Sammy by the hand and gently coaxed him into the almost too-small motel bathroom, keeping his voice soft and soothing. Sam had developed a fear of the toilet at one-and-a-half for a reason Dean still did not understand. He supposed it was some sort of toddler thing, but had decided to roll with the punches and help Sammy over his fear and get him potty trained. The plans all changed when Sammy realized where they were going.

He began to sob and scream like a Banshee, which Dean had seen in their dad's journal.

"Hey, hey, Sammy. It's okay. There's nothin' to be afraid of-" Dean held his little brother close and rubbed his back as they neared the toilet.

"No, Daddy! Pwease! Momster!" he howled in his big brother's ear.

"Monster? There's no-" he paused. Their dad had been honest with him about what he did for as long as he could remember, and taught him about salt and a few of his knives, and had said that as long as it was to protect Sammy and himself and used for nothing else, there was a knife, rock salt, and a bottle of holy water in the high cupboard above the counter in the kitchen, "Are you sure you don't haveta potty right now?" Sammy nodded, thumb in his mouth. Any other time, Dean would have scolded him and given him his "sucky" as he called it, but now he had other things to worry about.

With that in mind, he plopped Sammy down on the floor outside the bathroom, "Stay here, okay? Stay right there and I promise I will get you a treat after, okay? Good boy. I'll keep you safe, I promise," by this time, Dean had found the rock salt that was in the kitchen and had made a salt circle around Sammy, "Stay here. Good boy," with that, Dean disappeared into the small bathroom and shut the door so as not to scare Sammy.

With that done, Dean turned toward the evil toilet, going up to it bravely. With a quick motion of his wrist, he threw in the rock salt, watching as it sunk to the bottom of the toilet bowl. When nothing happened, he let a few drops of holy water fall into the stained water. When still nothing happened, Dean gave a great sigh of relief, opening the bathroom door to find Sammy sitting dutifully inside the salt circle, his thumb in his mouth and his eyes starry with unshed tears.

"All safe, Bud. Didn't Daddy promise to keep you safe? Come 'ere," as Dean hoisted Sammy onto his hip and began to walk back into the bathroom, Sammy tried to struggle, "What's buggin' you, Bud? Can you tell me?"

"Pee-pee fall in toi'et!"

"Pee-pee's supposed to go into the toilet, Bud," Dean started to explain after silently processing what his baby brother had just said, "It's waste. Our bodies don't need it anymore, so it has to get rid of it. You'll get sick if it stays in your body," Dean patiently explained, remembering what their dad had told him when he had had the same thoughts.

"Why?" Sam tilted his head to the side in innocent confusion.

Dean pondered this a moment, "I don't know, Bud, but I promise to keep you safe no matter what. Okay?"

Sammy nodded before smiling and deciding he was ready to use the potty for the first time.