Title: Ghosts and Baseball
Summary: “Can ghosts really play baseball?” There are some things that Sammy doesn't understand.
Spoilers: None. Pre-series.
Rating/Warning: G. Pure fluff. Gen.
Disclaimer: Just rummaging in Eric Kripke's toy box. I'll give them back before he even realizes they're gone. *g*
Author's Note: Some quick and dirty cuteness that arose from boredom and watching Field of Dreams. Written in about an hour.

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“Dean?” a tiny voice asked.

Dean Winchester groaned inwardly. The only thing he wanted to do was read his book but all day he’d been fielding every single random and inane question his baby brother could think to ask. He’d even gone outside to get away from Sammy, but the just-turned-six-year-old had simply followed him into Pastor Jim’s backyard and sat down beside Dean under the tree. “What?”

“Can ghosts really play baseball?”

Dean raised his eyes from his the page he was reading just long enough to give his brother a confused stare. “Huh?”

“Like in the movie.”

Oh, please. Rolling his eyes, Dean went back to his reading. “No, ghosts can’t really play baseball.”

“Why not? They did in the movie!”

“That’s because it was a movie, Sam. It’s not real.”

Sam pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. Dean swore he actually heard a “Hmph!” escape his brother’s lips. “But if ghosts are real and baseball is real, how come ghosts can’t really play baseball?”

Yeah, this conversation was not going to be one that just went away. Dean sighed and looked over at his little brother wearily. Perhaps Dean really should have waited for Field of Dreams to be released on video instead of begging Pastor Jim to take him to see it in the theater the other night. Since Sammy couldn’t exactly stay at home by himself, he’d had to see it, too. “Ghosts don’t play baseball. It’s not what they do.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother before setting his jaw and asking, “Well, if ghosts don’t really play baseball, how did they make them play baseball in the movie?”

“They weren’t really ghosts, Sam. They were just pretending to be ghosts.”

Sam wrinkled his nose in confusion. “Why would someone pretend to be a ghost?”

“Because someone paid them to.”

“Oh.” Sam seemed to accept that answer and Dean again attempted to read. “If I pretend to be a ghost, would someone pay me?”

Dean sighed. Someone should pay me for putting up with this. “No.”

“Then why did they pay the people in the movie?”

“Because pretending to be other people is their job. They’re actors.”

“Oh.” Sam was quiet for a moment. “Can ghosts play Wiffle ball?”

Oh, what he wouldn’t give for his brother to just shut up. “No, ghosts can’t play Wiffle ball. And before you ask, they can’t play basketball or football or hockey, either. They don’t play sports.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s not what they do. They haunt things.” It was getting harder and harder to keep the exasperation out of his tone.

“Could they haunt a baseball?” Sam asked without missing a beat.

Dean wasn’t sure whether he wanted to scream or laugh.

“What about a baseball field? Could they haunt a baseball field? Because if they could, I bet they’d play! I’m sure haunting things has to get boring after a while. Doesn’t it, Dean?”

“I’m sure it does, but I’m telling you, Sam. Ghosts don’t play baseball.”

“That stinks,” Sam huffed.

“Why?”

“Because playing baseball with ghosts looked fun in the movie.”

“You don’t even know how to play baseball!”

Sam just gave a disappointed shrug.

At long last, it seemed as if Sam had finally run out of questions. Dean knew, however, that this break would be short-lived. He once again returned his attention to his book.

But he found his attention wandering; he kept glancing over at his little brother. Once he finished the chapter, he set his book down on the ground and turned his attention to Sam, who was attempting to amuse himself by picking blades of grass. “You want to learn how to play baseball?”

“Really?” Sam asked, a small, tentative smile on his face. Dean nodded. “Really really?”

“Really really,” Dean affirmed, smiling in spite of himself.

Sam let out a squeal of joy as he excitedly jumped to his feet and ran off to find the Wiffle bats and ball that Pastor Jim had bought them the last time they stayed with him. Dean grinned when Sam came running back, a plastic ball in one hand and two long yellow bats dragging behind him. And as he was showing his little brother where to put his hands on the bat, he suddenly realized that the real point of Field of Dreams had nothing to do with ghosts playing baseball.