A warm spring night. A million stars. And two small boys, lying on a blanket, enjoying the peace and quiet.
CHARACTERS: Dean (age 8), Sam (age 4)
GENRE: Gen
RATING: G
SPOILERS: None
LENGTH: 738 words
But there's something Dean has discovered, something they don't teach you in school. When there's only three of you, when your family is small like that and you need to be together all the time, you can learn to put up wth stuff. It's hard, but you can do it.
THE SUM OF ALL KNOWLEDGE
By Carol Davis
"Dean," Sammy says. "Hey Dean," and it makes Dean's stomach start to hurt, because he knows his peace and quiet is finished, that it's killed deader than a frog they've run over on the road. When Sammy starts off like that, with that Hey Dean, he's on a tear.
There's nothing worse than Sammy on a tear.
"Be quiet," Dean tells him.
"But, Dean."
There's no school tomorrow. There might not be any school for a WEEK, if the job - the one that brought them here - takes Dad a while to finish up. That's one whole week of TV and playing ball and waiting to see if that bunch of blue eggs in the little nest he found out back of the shed will hatch.
And this, right now? Lying on a big old blanket, out in the yard, looking up at the sky? This is a perfect kind of a night.
Or it was, up until a minute ago.
"WHAT," Dean barks.
"I just wanna know."
"You wanna know what?"
Sammy's little fat white hand goes up. Points at the sky. At the stars. There's so many of them, and they're so clear, it's like that time Sammy dumped rice - the raw kind, not cooked - all over the kitchen floor.
"How come there's so many?" Sam asks.
"I don't know."
"How come?"
"I SAID, I don't know."
"But how come you don't know?"
Sometimes his brother can be a royal pain right in the butt. Like sitting on the grass and finding out there's a sharp stone right underneath your butt cheek. Sam can be whiny and dumb and stubborn and stinky and a huge, HUGE pain.
But there's something Dean has discovered, something they don't teach you in school. When there's only three of you, when your family is small like that and you need to be together all the time, you can learn to put up with stuff.
It's hard, but you can do it.
"Because I don't," Dean says.
"Oh," Sam whispers.
He sounds disappointed.
"Nobody knows everything."
"Why not?"
"Because it wouldn't fit in your head."
Half a minute goes by. Then Sam starts feeling his head with both hands, like he's trying to figure out how big it is.
"In my head?"
"In anybody's head."
"Even Dad's? Dad has a big head."
"Even Dad."
Another half a minute goes by. Then Sam asks, "Are thoughts very big?"
"Yes," Dean replies.
"Are some big and some little?"
"Yes."
"If you knew all the thoughts in the world, would your head be as big as a car?"
This will come back on him, Dean figures. This will come back, somehow, and bite him right in the butt. When Sam goes on a tear, it can go on for days. There's never been one that lasted a whole week, but like Uncle Bobby says, there's a first time for everything. By the end of the week, Dean might be ready for the nut factory, if Sam doesn't give this up.
But if Dad's working, they'll be together. Dean and Sammy.
He could show Sam that nest of blue eggs out back of the shed. They could watch together, to see if they hatch, if Sam will promise - if he will SWEAR on his LIFE - not to touch them, and not to get too close.
They could play ball.
They could have fun together. Him and Sam.
His one brother.
The only one he's got.
You can learn to put up with stuff, when that's what you have.
"As big as a house," Dean says.
"Would you die then? If your head was as big as a house?"
"Yeah. You would."
"Oh," Sam says. Then: "I don't wanna know all the thoughts in the world."
"Yeah," Dean says. "Me either."
After a while, Sammy crawls over and rests his head on Dean's belly. It's plenty big enough, Sam's head - it's heavy, like a rock. And warm.
All of Sam is warm.
That's never been hard to put up with.
Well, sometimes. But mostly not.
"Dean?" Sam says after a while.
"What."
"If you learn new thoughts, will you tell me some?"
When Sam looks at him like that - like he's smart, like there's a chance he might possibly learn all there is that's worth knowing, all the best big thoughts in the world - it feels better than anything Dean can imagine.
"Yeah," Dean says. "I will."
* * * * *