Three dollars and some change

For the Ficlette Fiasco IV, still plugging away. This is for sparrowwritings: Dawning Light: Supernatural. More Mini!Dawn with Sam and Dean. Prompt: the colour pink and metallica.


Setting: Middle of season three, before Dean goes to Hell. Nothing beyond that into season four.
Rating: PG for Dean's language
Follow-up to Fire in the Fields

"We should have left her with Bobby."

Dean ignored Sam, much as he did when it came to most everything Dawn-related these days. Instead, he concentrated on eating the delicious slice of cherry pie before him.

"This is going to be dangerous," Sam tried. And again, Dean ignored him as the waitress sidled up to refill his coffee cup.

"Thanks," Dean said with a wink to the waitress. Even through the woman had a worn wedding ring on her finger and had obviously been serving coffee in this diner since before Sam was born, she blushed a little beneath her rouge and asked if they wanted seconds.

"No thanks," Sam said shortly, earning a glare from the waitress before she swept off to the counter. "Would you pay attention to me for five minutes, Dean?"

"If I did that, you wouldn't get to practice your bitchface on strangers," Dean said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a little whirlwind ran up to the table and climbed into the booth beside Dean. "What took you so long? We'd thought you'd fallen in or something."

Dawn pushed her hair back from her face with very clean hands. "No, you didn't!" she contradicted with a scowl.

"I didn't," Dean amended. "Sam did." He smiled at Sam without bothering to swallow his mouthful of pie.

Sam made a gagging noise in the back of his throat, and Dawn rolled her eyes. For a six-year-old, she could act disturbingly mature at times. Mostly when Sam and Dean were not. "Did you save me any pie?" Dawn asked instead, changing her expression to one of hopeful innocence.

"What pie?" Dean asked through another mouthful.

Dawn's lower lip stuck out in a pout. Dean wasn't sure if it was an act or actual emotion. He'd only had a year with Dawn, and still couldn't tell when she was sad or just faking. It had taken Dean about five years to figure it out with Sam, and that was time that Dean wouldn't have with this little misfit who'd dropped in on them, literally, from the sky.

The sudden constricting of his throat made it difficult for Dean to swallow. Still, he managed without choking. He only had a few months left and he found he didn't want to spend it disappointing a little girl. "Tell you what," he said. "Why don't you go ask the waitress--"

"Louise," Dawn interrupted.

"--for some pie. Any kind you want."

Instead of cheering or even smiling, which had sort of been what Dean had hoped for, Dawn just stared at him with wide solemn eyes. Then she quickly leaned in and gave Dean a kiss on the cheek before she scrambled to the ground in search of the waitress.

Dean couldn't speak, couldn't breathe as the implications hit him again. He was going to Hell in only a few months, and he wasn't just leaving Sam behind, he'd be leaving Dawn as well.

For once in his damn life, Sam was just sitting there silent, watching Dean. In the background, Dean could hear Dawn and the waitress carrying on a conversation about the relative merits of cream pie over apple pie.

Dean knocked back half his cup of coffee before he could lift his gaze to Sam's face. "You can't go ditching her at Bobby or Ellen's," he finally said. "You got to keep an eye on her."

"Dean--"

"If Dad did it with the two of us, you can do it with Dawn."

Sam licked his lips, a sure sign that he knew he was fighting a losing battle. "She'd be safer--"

"With her Uncle Sam," Dean said with finality. He knew he'd win in the end, he usually did when it came to Dawn. He’d won the battle on Dawn's musical education, using classic Metallica to send her off to sleep on long trips in the Impala, while Sam had been the one to cave and buy Dawn a brilliant pink and purple unicorn backpack that Sam ended up carrying when Dawn got tired of it.

She'd even convinced Sam to make her a little pink holy water bottle, and he hadn't bitched. Much.

"...and my daddy likes ice cream too, but on the side, which isn't any fun when it starts to melt," Dawn's voice drifted down the diner. She had the waitress by the hand and was guiding her back over to the table. The woman smiled at Dawn as the girl clambered into the booth again, and set down a plate of apple pie, topped with the biggest scoop of ice cream Dean had ever seen.

"It sounds like you inherited your dad's sweet tooth," the waitress said.

"Uh huh," Dawn agreed, getting on her knees to lean appreciatively over the pie. Dean automatically swept her hair over her shoulder. He'd had more than enough of combing honey and melted ice cream and other various sticky foods out of Dawn's long hair when the girl couldn't be convinced to wear her hair tied back. "His favorite drink ever is chocolate milk!"

Dean kept smiling until the waitress left to seat new customers, then gave Dawn a glare. "Chocolate milk?" he demanded. "You make me sound like a nine-year-old girl!"

"Maybe chocolate milk with Bailey’s in it?" Dawn suggested, shoveling a fork-full of pie and dripping ice cream into her mouth. Across the table, Sam sighed. "Or chocolate martinis?"

Dean stared at Dawn, horrified. "I do not!"

"Do too." Dawn snuggled up under Dean's arm. "You should have some ice cream. Otherwise I'll eat it all and I won't sleep for days."

That was too dire an ultimatum to be tested. Defeated by the logic of a mind-reading six-year-old girl, Dean picked up his coffee spoon. "Do I get some pie too?"

"No, only ice cream. Sam gets some pie because he didn't have any and that's not fair." Dawn rested her head against Dean's shoulder. "And then he won't be sad."

Dean half-expected Sam to protest about not being sad. All Sam did these days was to whine about one thing or another. But Sam just picked up a fork and helped himself to some pie.

It hit Dean like a blow to the gut, that Sam was trying to act like an adult, like a parent.

Dawn cuddled close, humming Enter Sandman under her breath as she chewed on a piece of pie crust.

Dean was going to Hell, and nothing was going to fix that. At least Dawn and Sam wouldn't be alone, but that wasn't as much comfort as it should have been.

Because at the very heart of it all, Dean didn't want to die and leave his family behind.