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John watched as Sammy slept in the car seat carrier, he had placed on one of the chairs at the dingy kitchen table in the latest fleabag no tell motel the small family of three was calling home.
It had been almost six months since the night that had changed everything for the Winchester men.
The first few months the grieving husband and father basically survived day by day running on autopilot. Everyday was the same routine. Get up, wake up his sons, feed them, help them with their basic needs and put them to bed when the sun went down. Rinse and repeat the next day.
He would never forget the day he realized he hadn’t heard his oldest son speak since the night of the fire.
It had been four months since the fire and the family were out buying diapers since John realized there were only a couple left in the package.
It was a unusually warm day and there was a small park across from the store. He had just put the package of diapers in the trunk of the car when he felt Dean squeezed the hand he held and pointed towards the park.
“What’s up Ace, you wanna go play in the park?” He asked, smiling slightly when Dean looked up at him and nodded his head eagerly with hopeful eyes.
“Sure why not,” John decided. His son never complained or begged for candy and toys like most kids his age, he figured Dean deserved a treat.
He had watched Dean run around the small park. Climbing up the ladder to the slide several times before he ran back to the bench John was sitting on with Sammy and patted him on his knee and pointing to the swings.
John remembered frowning slightly at the action but he walked over to the swing set with Dean and placed Sammy in the baby swing before helping Dean into the toddler one and soon he was rewarded with a couple of high pitched giggles.
It wasn’t until later that night while giving both boys their bath that he realized that every time he asked Dean a question the child only either nodded his head for yes or shook his head for no.
While tucking Dean into bed he tried asking a more direct question to prompt Dean to speak but he was greeted with more silence and sighed when shoulder shrugging joined the little boy’s repertoire.
Suddenly John’s biggest concern was trying to get his four years old son to say something…anything. He was ashamed it took him so long to realized his son had been so traumatized that he wasn’t speaking and for the first time in months he had something to focus on besides his grief.
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“So Dean, Daddy is making you his special stew,” he told the child who looked up from the paper he was coloring and gave him a small smile. “I learned how to make this when I was in the Marines. It’ll cure your cold before you finish.”
John patted Dean’s head before turning back to the stove and stirring the pot simmering away.
John finished adding the vegetables to the pot and stirred it one last time before putting the cover on. Turning he watched as Dean slid off his chair and went over to his brother and held his masterpiece up for the baby to see and was rewarded with a gummy grin from Sammy.
John went over and sat down in the chair next to Sammy and pulled Dean onto his lap. “Do I get to see your drawing?” He asked as he kissed Dean on the top of his head.
Dean turned slightly to look over his shoulder at his father and gave him a shy smile as he held up the drawing. John smiled as he asked, “is that us and the Impala?”
Dean’s shy smile turned into a full blown grin as he nodded his head. John returned his son smiled and tried yet again to get him to talk to him. “So that’s Sammy carrying Daddy in his arms right?” He asked.
Dean giggled as he shook his head at his father. “Are you sure that looks like Sammy to me,” he teased as he tickled Dean’s sides making his son laugh as he squirm in his father’s lap to escape his father’s fingers.
John chuckled as he listened to Dean’s laughter before kissing the top of his head again and settling him on the floor next to him and saying, “okay Ace dinner’s almost ready. Go wash your hands.”
Dean went into the bathroom and dragged the small folding stool over to the sink to wash his hands and to wet a facecloth that he brought back to the table and washed Sammy’s face and hands.
“Good job Ace,” John said as he pulled down a couple of bowls for him and Dean and couple of bottles of baby food and the little baby spoon from the strainer. “Hey Deano, do you want to feed Sammy? Do you know how?”
Dean grinned up at his father. Mommy use to let him help give Sammy his bottle before but this was the first time Daddy has asked him to help. He quickly nodded his head.
“Okay, now you’ve watched Daddy, little spoonful at a time and give him a chance to swallow what he has in his mouth before you give him more. Okay?” John asked as he arranged the chairs to make it easier for Dean to complete the task.
He smiled as Dean grinned at his baby brother as he took the first spoonful of food and made it fly around for a few seconds while Sammy’s little eyes followed the activity before opening his mouth as the spoon approached. He watched Dean feed his brother for a few minutes to make sure everything was good before turning to finish cooking his and Dean’s supper.
By the time John had ladle the stew and placed the bowls on the table with a few pieces of bread next to each plate Dean had jumped down so that he could rub Sammy’s back earning a hearty burp. “Wow...that was a loud burp, huh Dean?”
Dean nodded his head before he climbed back onto his chair. John joined him as the table and nodded towards the bowl. “Go on Dean, that’s Daddy’s special stew. Learned it in the marines. Not only will it clear up your cold, but it’ll also put hair on your chest.”
Dean wasn’t sure why he needed hair on his chest but he picked up the spoon and brought some up towards his mouth. His nose wrinkled at the order and he looked over at his father to see him eating the stew. Dean stuck his tongue out and tentatively licked what was on his spoon.
In disgust Dean dropped the spoon back into his bowl and looked at his father in shock. His little hands went to the bowl and he pushed it towards the middle of the table. John gaped at his son who stared at him like he had just made him stand in the corner for something he hadn’t done.
John frowned as he looked at Dean. “Dean, eat your dinner. We don’t waste good food,” he told him as he pushed the bowl back towards his son before turning his attention back to his own dinner.
“Yucky!”
John stopped, his spoon in mid-air as he looked up at his son and asked cautiously, “what?”
Dean stirred the food in his bowl around in disgust as he repeated, “Yucky!”
John swallowed as he placed his spoon down and said, “you don’t like Daddy’s stew?”
Dean looked up at his father and said innocently, “no Daddy....it’s yucky.”
John nodded his head before he began to laugh as he stood up and lifted Dean into his arms and hugged him tight. “I think yucky is my new favorite word,” the elder Winchester said as he kissed Dean’s temple.
“Daddy too tight,” Dean said as he wiggled in his father’s arms.
John pulled back to look at his son, “say that again,” he urged happily while he loosened his hold.
“Too tight Daddy,” Dean said as he smiled up at his father.
John felt like crying as he mated his forehead to his son, “I’ve really missed that voice Ace. Promise me you won’t ever stop talking to me ever again.”
“Promise Daddy,” Dean said before looking down at the table at the discarded dinner. “Daddy do I have to eat stew?”
John laughed as he bounced Dean slightly in his arms. “Tonight you get to pick what you want for dinner.”
Dean grinned, “really?”
“Yup, really.” John told him.
“Peanut butter and fluff?” The little boy asked hopefully.
“Tonight you definitely can have a peanut butter and fluff sandwich,” John told him as he settled Dean next to him. He smiled as he watched his oldest grab the bowl from the table and bring it over to the counter before sitting back down to wait for his sandwich.
He ruffled Dean’s hair as he walked past him to make the requested sandwich. He looked down at the discarded bowl of stew. He remembered his buddy Deacon had told him years ago this stew would cure anything and damned if he wasn’t right.
From that night going forward no matter what ailed his sons, John Winchester would make what the small family lovingly called the Cure All Kitchen Sink Stew because it really could cure anything and he had his oldest son back finally to prove it.
The End