Title: The Good Sense to Come In Out of the Rain
Summary: There was something about water falling from the sky that absolutely fascinated little Sammy.
Spoilers: None. Pre-series.
Rating/Warning: PG, Gen.
Disclaimer: Yeah, if I owned these guys, you think I'd still be sitting here in my apartment in small-town Massachusetts? I'm just playing with Eric Kripke's toys and I'll give them back without much of a fight. ;)
Author's Note: This is the story that boredom wrote. Dean is 8, Sam is 4.

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There was something about water falling from the sky that absolutely fascinated little Sammy. The first time Sam was old enough to really appreciate snow, they were staying at yet another run-down motel, this time in Pennsylvania. At four years old, Sam was never one to sit still for much more than a few minutes at a time, but the thick white flakes falling past the window captivated him.

He quickly turned the combination heating/air conditioning unit into a window seat and did nothing for two whole hours except watch the snow fall. It was too warm for the snow to stick and as such, the flakes were melting before they hit the ground. It seemed to Sam that it was simply disappearing, and all that did was fuel Sam’s fascination with the white stuff. “Where’s it going, Dean?”

“It’s melting,” Dean explained wearily. He was really getting tired of having to answer all of Sam’s little questions. His brother was definitely in that stage that all little kids go through when they question the hows and the whys of the world. Dean only hoped he hadn’t been this annoying when he went through it. “The snow’s cold but the ground is warm, so the snow melts.”

“Like the ice in your soda glass?”

“Yes, Sammy. Like the ice in my soda glass.”

Then Sam begged and pleaded to be let outside to play in the soft, white shower and Dean eventually given in. He bundled Sammy up in two pairs of running pants and two sweatshirts and made him put on the heaviest jacket he owned before allowing him outside; if Sammy got sick from being out in the chilly wetness of the early Pennsylvania winter, Dad would never forgive Dean.

He stood there for over an hour, shivering as Sam frolicked and ran around, giggling in delight as cold snowflakes landed on his face. His favorites where the ones that caught in his eyelashes before melting into a single drop of water that ran down his cheek and dripped off his chin. A single snowflake landed on the corner Sam’s jacket collar and suddenly Sam’s fascination was reborn. “Dean, look!” Sam exclaimed, hurrying over to his big brother. He indicated the snowflake, which was already starting to melt on his wet jacket. “It’s pointy! Are they all like that?”

“Yes, they are, Sammy.”

“If they’re all like that, how come they don’t all look like that?”

“Just because, Sammy.” Dean ran his hands over his arms in an attempt to warm himself. “Come on, we‘re going back inside now. I’m cold.”

“But I want to stay out here and play!”

“Tough. You’re going to get sick in those wet clothes.”

Sammy whined and groaned and told Dean that Dad would have let him play outside a little longer (which Dean knew wasn’t true but Sam would only whine more if he said that aloud), but he returned to the room without incident. And ever since then, Sam was absolutely captivated by snow.

Dean thought that his brother’s fondness for precipitation extended only to snow but that following spring, Sam proved to be just as mesmerized by rain. It was another run-down motel room in another state, but Sam once again turned the heating unit into a window seat and sat for close to an hour and a half watching the rain fall. Dean longed for the days when he was that young and wide-eyed and could be completely amazed by something as simple as the water cycle.

When Sammy began begging to be allowed to play in the rain shower, Dean put his foot down. “No, Sammy. No way.”

But Sammy was still little, and all he wanted was to be a kid, to experience the miracle of water falling from the sky. A pout, a frown, and some tears welled in the corners of his little brother’s eyes and soon enough, Dean found himself fashioning two ponchos out of a couple of trash can liners.

The rain had turned the motel grounds into a huge mud pit. At first, Dean stood by the door and watched as Sammy squealed with glee while jumping into puddles. Sam then turned his gaze skyward, closed his eyes, and giggled as he let the rain splash onto his face. Dean gave a half-smile, wishing he could be that carefree again. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He had to be vigilant, he had to be watchful, he had to be protective.

“Dean! Come play with me!” Sammy called, waving to his brother.

Dean shook his head no and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Sam gave Dean his patented disappointed pout and Dean was pretty sure that had his brother’s face not been soaking wet, he would have seen tears in his eyes. He is going to kill people with that someday, Dean thought, sighing as he stepped out from under the eaves that had been keeping him dry.

Playing in the rain wasn’t as fun as playing in the snow, but Dean did manage to enjoy himself. Of course, smashing a mud pie in his baby brother’s face helped. Sammy just blinked at him in shock before giggling and chucking a handful of the wet dirt at Dean.

The boys tossed mud at each other for a while before Sammy tackled Dean, knocking him flat on his back in the squishy, wet dirt. Dean quickly turned the tables, taking care not to be too rough with Sam. After all, he was still only little. The two of them wrestled around for a few minutes, coating both the trash-bag-turned-ponchos and their clothes in thick brown dirt. Dad was going to be furious, but at the moment, neither one of them cared. Soon Sammy pushed Dean off of him and lay on his back on the ground, panting and relishing the feeling of the cold droplets of water beating on his face. “Dean?”

“What, Sammy?”

“Why is it raining?”

Dean sat up and pushed the poncho hood off his head. The poncho didn’t matter anymore anyway; he and Sam were soaked to the bone. He attempted to explain the water cycle to his little brother but the pure confusion on Sam’s face made him stop mid-sentence. Yeah, maybe Sam was too young for that technical an explanation. “When the clouds get too big, they cry,” he said instead.

“Oh,” Sammy said, squinting up into the sky.

Dean nudged Sam’s shoulder, silently telling his brother that it was finally time to get in out of the rain. For once, Sam didn’t argue, most probably because he was shivering. Once inside, Dean began drawing a warm bath for Sammy; on top of being cold, he was filthy! After Sam had had a bath, it would be Dean’s turn.

Sam hurried into the bathroom and began undressing for his bath, starting with the poncho, which he tossed unceremoniously into the corner. Dean took one look at the trail of mud Sammy had tracked from the door to the room to the bathroom and then at his brother’s mud-streaked face and laughed. It was then that he realized that for a few minutes, he had been carefree, he had been a kid. It was something he would cherish for a long time to come.