Title: Childish Things

Summary: Little Sam, Dean, teddy bears, and heroes.

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: I do not own the pretty, pretty boys. If I did, I would hide them away from all you horny, rabid admirers and charge money for you to look at them. I'd be rich, I tell you! RICH! Uh, yeah. Lucky for you, not mine. 

Author's Notes: My FirstSupernatural Fic! Actually, my fist fic in, like, YEARS. That's how much I love this show. Plus, the plot bunnies can be mighty persuasive when I go off my meds. (kidding… or am I?) This is the first chapter of three. The Teddy is actually based on my Teddy, although I roughed him up a little for this story.

Feedback is my crack, so please send me some or I might have to resort to Feedback prostitution.

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When Sammy was four, Dean took him to a yard sale for the fist time. A tag sale was nothing special to Dean – The Winchesters had frequented lawn sales and thrift stores for years. They were a great place to get cheap clothes and supplies. After all, their father ran their family like an army, and he would no sooner waste money on a pair of new sneakers than he would on barrettes for his hair.

Normally, John went alone and came back with the bare essentials – clothes, shoes, silver to melt into bullets, cheap wooden crosses. Every once in a while, something small for the boys – a plastic action figure or a picture book for Sammy – things Dean knew his dad had probably picked out of the standard "free" box. But even at nine, he could see the little apology in his dad's eyes when he tossed him the toy, and without even meaning to he had forgiven him.

That day, though, the yard sale was only two houses down, and John was preoccupied enough with learning a new counter curse that he had allowed Dean to take Sammy to the sale alone. He'd given Dean a twenty, reminded him that they were low on silver, and hunched over the book before him, dismissing them.

Feeling very grown up, Dean had carefully pocketed the cash and led his brother down the block. Wide eyed, his little brother had clutched his hand and wandered between shoddy makeshift tables of plywood and saw horses . A hundred tiny baubles and bright, colorful toys peppered the tabletops, gleaming hotly in the summer sun. Sammy had reached out a tentative hand several times to touch something, then pulled back as though the figurine or gadget he was looking at were a treasure he was unworthy of touching.

"Wow, Dean… look at that!" Sam exclaimed, pointing a chubby finger at a table full of children's toys and books.

"Why don't you go check it for silver." Dean suggested, knowing full well that they only thing Sam would find was plastic and silly putty.

"Okay." Sam breathed, already focused on a Transformer action figure in front. Dean smiled and watched his brother handle the toys like artifacts at a museum, then set his mind to finding some real silver tucked away in the cheap mess of kick knacks.

He had managed to pick out a few old, kinked necklace chains, an old ashtray, and a questionable spoon when he felt the familiar tug of his little brother's hand on his sleeve. Sammy was looking at Dean with an expression akin to wonder.

"Dean," he breathed, as though about to reveal something amazing. "They have glass plates!" He held out a slightly chipped china saucer, patterned with blue and white flowers. Dean's throat tightened a little. Real dinnerware was a foreign concept to his brother – the Winchesters ate out of take-out containers, cellophane bags, and paper plates. Glass plates and bowls were just unnecessary bulk when you moved as much as they did.

Sam was staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to react.

"That's great, Sammy. But we can't buy it. Put it back."

Some of the excitement in Sam's eyes faded, but he moved to put it back without argument. Already he was learning that Dean did what Dad said to do, and Sam did what Dean said to do. As Sammy gently placed the plate back, Dean craned his neck, searching…. There – a ratty cardboard box slouching next to a dust covered treadmill, "FREE" scrawled in hasty letters on the front.

"C'mere little brother!"

Sam trotted over again, a little smile on his face, like Dean had just given him a compliment or something.

"Go check out that box over there – pick something out you want." Sam's gaze followed Dean's pointing finger. His eyes lit up and a little gasp of delight escaped his open mouth. Then he was off, narrowly avoiding a distracted housewife as he dove towards the box. Dean mouthed an apology to the startled looking woman and started picking through a pile of men's clothing, wondering what Sammy would choose.

He didn't have long to wonder. Sam was back at his side in less than a minute, clutching the sorriest looking teddy bear Dean had ever seen. It was a dark brown (from grime or intent, Dean couldn't tell), it's fur matted in a way that suggested this bear had seen a couple kids come and go. The scratched glassy eyes seemed to gaze off in two different directions. The nose was a little heart shaped piece of red felt, with a small, surprised looking "O" of a mouth underneath. The ears were so flattened to its head they almost disappeared, and one arm hung, half torn, from the body. Stuffing was leaking from a hole in the bear's crotch.

"Uh…" was about all he could muster, a little taken aback that his brother would choose such a… pitiful toy.

"Dean, do I really get to keep it?" Sam asked, pulling the bear in towards his chest. Dean resisted the urge to pull the bear from his grasp and take his brother home to wash his hands and change his clothes, lest he catch some sort of plague from the filthy thing.

"Yeah, Sammy. It's yours." Dean sighed, helpless against the open hope in Sam's eyes.

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That night they got Chinese food for dinner and Dean and Sam were allowed to watch the WWF video Dean had found in the FREE box – practically a holiday in the Winchester household.

Sam had curled up on the little sofa next to Dean, clutching his new bear and sighing in sleepy contentment. Dean had spent an hour after they got home cleaning the thing up, washing the grime out of the fur, re-gluing the nose when his washing scrubbed it off. He'd even sewn the arm and the hole in the crotch, little Sammy watching, giggling and turning his face away when Dean stitched up the hole "down there". All in all, the bear cleaned up better than he thought, and cleansed of the grime it even took on a worn sort of charm. It was still damn ugly, though, and Dean couldn't help but think that if it had been a real animal, someone would have shot it by now to put it out of its misery.

He was just glad his father hadn't seen the bear before Operation Restore Teddy. As it was, John had frowned when he saw Sammy clutching the stuffed animal, and Dean had held his breath, waiting for his dad to chastise him for allowing Sam to get something so childish and impractical. But John was either too preoccupied to really care, or he saw the gratified, happy look on Sam's face as he made the bear dive off the back of the sofa to attack an imaginary poltergeist, complete with crappy sound effects. Dean chose to believe the latter.

Sitting in front of the TV, watching men in spandex hit each other with folding chairs, Sammy had burrowed into Dean's side and tucked the bear under his chin. He was quiet for long enough that Dean thought he had fallen asleep, but then he shifted to look up at him, an almost comical look of seriousness on his little round face.

"He needs a name." Distracted by the TV, Dean didn't realize what his brother meant at first.

"What? Who?"

"My bear. He needs a name."

"Oh. Uh, why can't you just call him 'Teddy' or something?"

"De-aaan! That's boring!"

"How about... uh… Stinky? Or Pigpen, you know, after that cartoon kid with the cloud of dirt?" Sam narrowed his eyes, apparently offended on behalf of the bear, and went back to watching TV. Several minutes went by in silence broken only by the exaggerated sounds of scripted combat coming from the TV. Then –

"I'm gonna call 'im TeddyDean." Sammy decleared, smiling like he'd just solved a difficult puzzle or something.

"What? No! You can't name it Dean, that's my name and there can only be one person per name in this family."

"That's why he's TeddyDean." Sam explained patiently, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world

"But-" Dean looked at the bear, flopping over Sam's bent elbow, the offset glassy eyes and surprised mouth making it look slightly… dead. Sammy was grinning at him, not at all phased. "I'm so much better looking that that…" Dean groaned, already resigning himself to his fate as bear-namesake. Sam snorted and his laid his head on Dean's leg, apparently satisfied that he had made his case.

"Why'd you wanna name your bear after me, anyhow?" Dean asked, slightly perplexed.

"'Cause he's got all these special 'bilities, like you, and he can fight like you, and he's cool, and he makes me happy." Sam proclaimed in one breath, punctuating his statement by making airplane noises and flying TeddyDean through the air like superman. Dean got a lump in his throat as he looked down at his little brother, who had unknowingly just told Dean he was Sam's hero. And, apparently, that Sam thought he could fly.

Dean put his hand on his brother's shoulder and waited until Sammy fell asleep, TeddyDean cushioned under his cheek, his breath coming in gentle little puffs. Reluctant to move, he let the tape run to the end and sat watching Sam's chest rise and fall in the grey glow of the vacant TV screen. Their father was still cloistered in his room. The house was dark and silent. Yawning, Dean leaned his head back and let his hand rest on Sam's chest. He fell asleep that way, comforted by the gentle thump of his brother's heart under his fingers, TeddyDean's off-kilter gaze keeping watch.

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AUTHORS NOTE: First of all – thanks for all the kind reviews. The Plot Bunny's terrible, terrible appetite for feedback has been satiated for now. But remember, if the Bunny doesn't get its feedback, it may develop a taste for human flesh. And then I'm really screwed.

Secondly, I have begun the second chapter but must put it on hold for a few days. My best friend, who lives a few states away, just eloped and him and his new husband (no, that's not a typo – go gay marriage!) is coming to visit for a few days. But I swear on Dean's Impala that I will get the next chapter out as soon as I can. In the meantime, more feedback keeps me feeling warm and fuzzy inside. Thanks, and may the Fic be with you.