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"All the king's horses and all the king's men, couldn't put Humpty together again."
Dean listens scornfully. The songs Mrs. Guenther has been singing are stupid, and he's not surprised that Sammy is squirming in her arms, face scrunched up like he might start crying properly soon.
Mommy never sang stupid songs like that, not unless other people were around. When it was just her and Dean and Sammy, she sang the proper songs and rhymes, with the special words.
Mrs. Guenther doesn't know the right stories, either - she spent ages before telling them some tale about a princess who climbed out of a tower down her hair. It's made up and it's stupid, and Dean's not sure why Mrs. Guenther thought he'd fall for something like that. Mommy's stories could be scary, sometimes, but at least they were about real things.
The voices downstairs are getting louder. Mrs. Guenther glances at the bedroom door; she looks annoyed, Dean thinks. Then she takes a deep breath and starts singing another stupid nursery rhyme.
Sammy makes an unhappy squawking sound, and Dean silently holds out his arms.
Mrs. Guenther hesitates, shaking her head. "Dean -"
Daddy's voice is getting really loud downstairs now. He sounds angry. "I'm telling you, whatever it was, it wasn't human! She was -"
Mr. Guenther shouts back at him, and Dean tries not to listen; he looks at Sammy instead, who really is going to start crying any minute.
Mrs. Guenther gives an annoyed sigh, and passes Sammy to Dean after all. Dean carefully adjusts his grip so Sammy's safe, and looks down into his baby brother's eyes. Sammy makes a happier sound and stops squirming, looking back at him trustingly.
"I'll be right back, honey," Mrs. Guenther says, louder than usual, maybe trying to block out the sound of the argument downstairs.
Dean doesn't pay much attention as she slips out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. He does notice when things get quieter a minute or two later. The house still feels tense and unhappy, though. Dean always notices things like that.
He closes his eyes for a minute and tries to remember the words to one of Mommy's rhymes, the ones that were just for the three of them. He wants to sing them to Sammy, so he won't forget. They won't come, though; they're gone, just like all his other words.
Sammy makes a little crooning sound, and Dean opens his eyes and blinks until he can see properly again.
There are footsteps coming up the stairs, too heavy to be Mrs. Guenther's, and Dean isn't surprised when it's Daddy who opens the door. Daddy looks angry, but also... Dean doesn't really know how to describe it. Like he's finally made his mind up about something that's been worrying him.
"Hey, Dean," Daddy says, and sits down beside him. "You and Sammy okay?"
Dean nods and holds Sammy a little tighter. Sammy gurgles as if he wants to answer for both of them.
Daddy sighs. "How would you feel about getting out of here, kiddo?" Dean darts a glance up at him, and Daddy goes on, "Stay someplace else for a while. Just the - just the three of us. It wouldn't be as nice as this house, but..."
Dean nods, hardly able to believe it. Yes, he wants to get out of here. He hates this house - hates the smell of smoke from Mr. Guenther's cigarettes, hates the way Mrs. Guenther won't just leave him and Sammy alone, hates how nice and sweet everything seems on the surface when it's all a lie, he knows that now. He doesn't trust it, and he doesn't trust the Guenthers, even if he hasn't seen their eyes change color yet.
Daddy nods back. "Okay. You hold onto Sammy for a minute more while I get our things together, okay, Dean? And then we'll get out of here."
It doesn't take Daddy long to pack everything: they don't own much any more, mostly just things people have given them for Sammy. Some of those things were for Dean, but he isn't interested in teddy bears and toy cars, not any more, so they're Sammy's too. Daddy puts everything into a bag, then carefully takes Sammy in one arm and holds his free hand out to Dean.
Dean stays right next to him all the way out, and shies away when Mrs. Guenther tries to hug him goodbye.
Daddy was telling the truth: the motel room isn't as nice as Mr. and Mrs. Guenther's house, but Dean likes it better anyway. It doesn't pretend to be a home when he knows his is gone. And it's easier when it's just the three of them. Dean still watches over Sammy, but he doesn't have to check everyone's eyes all the time.
Sometimes Daddy takes them places, though, and then Dean does have to be on guard. Daddy goes to the library a lot, reads lots of books with titles Dean can't understand, and Dean sits next to him and looks after Sammy. Daddy always says they can go to the kids' section instead, but Dean thinks he saw the librarian's eyes turn black once when she smiled at him, so he doesn't leave Daddy's side. Daddy doesn't notice people's eyes, and Dean can't say Mommy's rhymes for sending the bad people away, so all he can do is stay as close to Daddy as possible.
Sometimes Daddy takes books back to the motel room with him, and sits at the table and writes notes. Sometimes he calls people on the phone and writes down things that they tell him. Dean plays with Sammy and keeps one eye on the door.
He's lying next to Sammy one night, pretending to be asleep. It's late, but Daddy's still sitting at the table, reading by the light filtering in under the drapes. Then he starts muttering to himself, quietly, like he doesn't want to wake them. He keeps stopping and starting again, as if he's trying to learn something, but it's what he's saying that makes Dean open his eyes.
"- in gloria Dei Patris..."
It's not exactly the same as the rhymes Mommy used to say when no one else was around. Daddy says the words differently, and they're not all the same - some are in a strange order, some of them Mommy never used at all. But it's close.
Maybe close enough to keep the bad people away. Maybe even the man with the yellow eyes.
Dean lets his eyes slip shut. He falls asleep listening to Daddy speaking Mommy's words, and for the first time since the man with yellow eyes took Mommy away, he doesn't dream.