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November 2016

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“M'dying,” Dean moans from his place sprawled out on the living room floor. His baby brother lays down beside him, giggling at Dean’s distress and crawling closer. “I’m gonna die.”

Dean’s surrounded by empty candy wrappers, and Mary bites back a laugh as she remembers how dramatically he’d scattered them during his little binge. She isn’t upset about the mess- it’ll only take a moment to clean up, after all- but is slightly concerned about her son’s well-being, given the mournful sounds he’s making and the way Sammy seems to have accepted his inevitable death by curling up in the crook of his arm and closing his eyes to take a nap.

“Do you have a tummyache, sweetie?” she asks him, walking closer and crouching down in the remains of the Halloween candy massacre. Dean just groans in response, and she struggles to keep a straight face. “That’s how they get you. Lure you in with tasty candy, and suddenly a big bad witch just gobbles you right up.”

Dean opens his eyes just enough to look a little alarmed at that, and Mary has to fight a laugh. “A big bad witch?”

“A big bad witch.” She nods very seriously and watches the rapt attention on his face. “But you’ll be safe, even if you ate your candy, because I’ve already protected us from her. You see the scary stickers on the window?”

Dean cranes his neck back and squints at the cartoonish ghosts and skeletons on their front window before nodding. “Are they keepin’ us safe?”

“They are,” Mary agrees. “They scare the witch away so that no matter how much candy you eat, she can’t ever get you.”

Dean heaves a sigh of relief, and glances down at where Sammy’s just about dozed off beside him. “Good, ‘cause I eated- lots. Lots and lots.”

Mary finally can’t hold her laugh in anymore and nods, reaching out to carefully gather both her babies into her arms. “I can see that. How about we go get you a bath, and see if you feel any better after, hm?”

Dean seems to consider that for a moment as he settles himself in her arms before nodding sagely and settling there. “'Kay.”

“That’s my angel.” A kiss to the top of his head and they’re good to go, so Mary takes them straight upstairs, leaving the wrappers to deal with later.

She’s got a tummyache to heal.