The family
headed toward the stairs, Dean still being carried across his father’s
shoulders. They entered the dining room
where Mary had set the meal. The young
Winchester stared at everything in front of him. His curiosity about the large thing on the
platter was heightened by the knife and large fork that lay next to it.
John took
the knife and fork and began to cut the meat off the turkey, unaware of his
son’s strong gaze.
Dean reached out and
touched the bird. He look at his mother
and softly whispered, “What?”
That is the
turkey, Dean. The young child’s eye grew
wide and he swallowed hard. His father
set a slice of the meat on the small plate set aside for the young boy.
Mary stared
in surprise as her son shook his head ‘no’ in a violent gesture.
“Dean, it’s
all right. It’s cooked like
chicken. You like chicken.”
“Chicken
didn’t try to squash me. No.”
John stopped
cutting and stared at his son, “You will eat it, Dean.”
Dean jumped
off the chair and screamed, “No!” He ran
out of the dining room and went upstairs to his bedroom and hid in his
closet.
Mary and
John argued over Dean’s reaction. John
wanted to drag the boy back to the table and demand that he eat the bird. Mary told him that the past few days had been traumatic to Dean and
she would not demand that he eat the turkey.
John
Winchester snorted and told his wife, “If he does not eat it, he eats
nothing. Keep some turkey in the
refrigerator. When he’s hungry enough,
he’ll eat anything.”
Castiel
listened to the argument in the dining room as he sat outside of his charge’s
closet. One simply did not starve a young child. His righteous anger drove him to pace the
floor.
“Father! Why?”
“Dean will
have many idiosyncrasies, my child. It
will drive his brother crazy. Watch him
when he is an adult. This event, and
what he does to provide for his brother will scar him and alter how he
perceives food.”
“He’s a
little boy.”
“Yes, my
Son. He is He will still be a little boy when the cares
of the world start to fall on his shoulders.”
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