Note: hey babes

it's been a, uh... a hard week. but here we are. we made it to saturday! 

thanks for the love as always. you guys keep me going <3

hopefully i was right in assuming y'all would be craving some little anna content by now. @voidpottah (who i adore) requested this one a while ago anyway. 

so here anna is at two <3 

Maybe Love Is Like That

"Don't do it," Sam said and brushed his thin, floppy hair out of his eyes.

Anna was officially running. No longer waddling around on unsteady baby legs, she was a force to be reckoned with. She never seemed to tire of running in circles around the room. She loved to make her brothers chase her, and she knew that a good way to get them running after her was to get into trouble.

So, Sam found himself giving a toddler his full force puppy dog eyes, asking her desperately, "Don't touch the outlet, Anna. Don't touch it."

Dean snorted across from him, his feet propped on the table, a newspaper open in his hands, and the back legs of his chair at a sixty degree angle with the floor. He swung his feet down and let the front legs of his chair hit the carpeted floor with a hushed thud. "I got her," he told his brother and ruffled Sam's hair on the way past him.

"Dean, quit doing that," Sam said irritably and ran his fingers through his hair in an effort to fix it. He wasn't twelve years old anymore, for pete's sake.

Dean just smirked over his shoulder at Sam before focusing his attention on Anna.

She was no longer reaching for the lamp cord or the outlet it connected to. She was just bouncing her knees, excitedly doing baby squats as she grinned widely at Dean, displaying all her teeth.

"Come here, Rugrat," he teased her, crouching to her level. He stretched his arms out to welcome her. But she made a happy squealing sound and darted around him. She very nearly made it away. But Dean caught her around the waist with one hand and hauled her back toward him.

She landed against his chest as he lost his balance and fell back on the floor.

Anna giggled loudly, her mouth right next to his ear.

"She's drooling on you," Sam said, watching a string of drool connect Anna's bottom lip to Dean's henley.

"Aw, Anna, that's disgusting," Dean said and pulled his head away from hers. He could handle drool on his shirt, but he didn't want it in his ear.

Anna bounced upward, her hands on his chest, and leaned over his face. She was still drooling, but she didn't seem to even notice.

Dean had a wonderful view of her chubby chin and the toothy grin above it... and the string of saliva making its way quickly toward his face. He picked his sister up and tossed her in the air, hoping the drool would fly off somewhere– maybe even hit Sam, that would be hilarious– but instead it detached from her face and landed on his nose, narrowly missing his eye.

Sam immediately started laughing above and behind him. "Nice work, Dean."

"Shut up," Dean said as he held onto Anna with one hand and wiped his face with his other sleeve.

"Do again!" Anna requested and tugged on Dean's collar. "Do again! Go up high!"

"I think we're done with that game, Sweetheart." Dean gently lifted his sister off his stomach and set her on the floor.

"P'ay tase!" Anna said and bolted for the table where Sam sat.

"I don't want to chase you right now, An- Oh fuck!" Dean went from slowly dragging himself upward to leaping to his feet when Anna reached for the stove in the kitchenette.

Sam shoved his chair back and started that way, but Dean still got there first and swung Anna away from the stove right before she could twist a knob to turn it on.

"No," he told her sternly. He turned her so she was facing him and brushed a long curl away from her eyes. "You do not play with the stove. Understand me?"

Anna's eyes were wide and her eyebrows drawn in. She stuck her bottom lip out. She must have been confused. She'd gone from playing with Dean to being scolded.

"You can't play over here. It's not safe. You could get hurt."

"Hurt?" Anna asked timidly. She had her chin tilted toward her chest.

Dean bounced her once. "Come on, kiddo. I'm not mad at you. You just can't play over here."

"You big softie," Sam teased him.

Dean shot him a glare and then looked back at Anna. "Don't play here," he said sternly again.

"No p'ay!" Anna repeated to show him she understood.

"Not by the stove."

"Not dove!"

"That's right," Dean affirmed. He swung her back to the floor, and Anna took off running again.

There was the sound of a car engine outside, and Dean looked with an open expression toward the window. "Guess what, Anna?" he said and jogged over to her. "Dad's comin'!"

Anna grinned and turned around. "Dada!" she said and reached out to Dean.

Her brother froze. "Dean," he said and pointed to himself.

Anna's little face scrunched in confusion, her head tilting to the side. "Dean," she said. "Dada."

The door swung open behind them.

"Why the hell wasn't this thing locked?"

Dean faced their father's wrath calmly as Anna ducked her head into the crook of his neck. "I just got back twenty minutes ago, Dad. I knew you were coming, so I left it. I'm sorry."

"You should be," John snapped. "You got both your younger siblings here with you. You're responsible for keeping them safe. For God's sake, Dean, you know better."

"Yes, sir," Dean said more quietly. He rubbed Anna's back gently, and she lifted her head from his shoulder to peek shyly at John.

"Hi, Peanut," John said and pulled Anna away from Dean.

Anna leaned her upper half away from her father and studied his face nervously. "Duuuh," she cooed shyly.

"How's my girl doin'?" John asked her with a soft smile that looked gruff on his stubble-covered face. "You been good for your brothers?"

"She's whippin' us into shape, if that's what you mean," Dean said and rubbed the back of his head. He looked almost nervous as he turned his head back up to face John. "I'm tellin' you, Dad, you oughta throw that into Sammy's next training course. Set Anna in an open field and let him chase her down."

"At least a field wouldn't have outlets and stoves," Sam said.

"You know Anna, Sammy. She'd find something to get into," John said. His voice was deep and soft like he was relaxing after a difficult day.

It was only when he spoke with this note of calm that his love for his family became audible.

Usually, they had to dig for it, analyze his every word and find the motive behind them all. Somewhere behind the anger, there had to be a trace of love. All too often, though, it was hidden so far under layers of rock and sand that there didn't seem to be any point in even gathering a search party.

But, for once, there it all was. The only thing covering it was a transparent blanket of their father's gruff exterior.

John set Anna down and gave her bottom a pat as she ran to play with her wooden blocks. He didn't keep a lot of toys for her. But she had blocks, a few animal figurines, and a small baby doll. He watched her play for a few seconds and then turned to Dean and started shedding his jacket. "Get some food going, Champ?" he requested and cupped the side of Dean's head for a second.

"Yes, sir," Dean agreed and headed for the stove.

"Sam, it wouldn't kill you to study some lore now and then, would it?" John asked irritably when he saw the packet of history homework in front of his younger son.

Sam glanced up at his dad with just his eyes. There were a million answers in his eyes, but he didn't say anything.

John held his gaze for a minute before slinging his jacket over the back of a chair and sitting down at the table across from Sam. He pulled a flask out of his jacket pocket and untwisted the lid.

Sam looked surreptitiously at him. But he was quick to turn back down to his homework before John could take notice of the attention.

"Dam!" Anna shouted suddenly.

Three heads turned her way.

"What the hell did you just say?" John snapped at her.

Anna's eyes widened innocently, and she shrunk in on herself, small shoulders hunching. "D-Dam..." she said again, more quietly this time. She must have thought John was angry because she'd been too loud.

"That's how she says Sam, Dad."

John looked at Sam with some form of suspicion in his eyes. "Well, quiet down, Anna," he said. "Daddy's got a headache."

Anna's eyebrows furrowed in concern. She abandoned her small block tower, the one she'd wanted Sam to see. She wandered toward the kitchen, glancing carefully at John every few steps to make sure she wasn't irritating him. She stopped by Dean and tugged on his pant leg.

Dean moved the pan he was boiling water in to the back burner so Anna would be at less of a risk of touching it. Then he crouched to her level. "What's up, kiddo?"

Anna gave him a kiss on the forehead. "Dada headate all better!" she said sweetly.

Dean's smile– only halfway to its fullest self– grew paralyzed. "Anna," he said helplessly. He spoke gently and so quietly that there was no way to be sure even Anna could hear him. But there was no way he could risk John overhearing. "I'm not Dad," he said, his forehead wrinkling as his eyebrows rose earnestly. "That's your daddy," he told her and pointed inconspicuously at John. He didn't extend his arm, just his index finger. And he looked meaningfully from the blonde-haired toddler in front of him to the dark-haired man a few yards away.

Fine lines appeared between Anna's eyes. She stared at Dean with her nose wrinkled and her mouth half open. The whole look was asking what in the hell Dean was talking about it.

"That's Dad," Dean repeated, straightening his arm just a little more in the hopes that Anna would understand.

Her skeptical green eyes followed his finger until they found John. "Duh!" she said and looked at Dean. It was as if she thought she was telling Dean who John was. And as if she thought his name was 'Duh.'

Dad, Dean suddenly realized. She'd heard Sam and Dean– well, mostly Dean– call John, 'Dad,' and she thought it was a name. And John was so rarely speaking casually with the boys that she'd probably not even listened attentively to either of her brothers saying 'Dad,' a few times. So she thought it was 'Duh.' Not dad.

And she thought... She thought Dean was her dad. And that John was just... some guy.

But it didn't make sense. She called Dean by his name too. So she just thought... Well, she was confused. And Dean was going to fix it. He really was. But he was going to have to do it sometime John wasn't around.

As it was, Dean glanced up at their father again to see John looking dubiously at him and Anna. "Go play," Dean said and tweaked his sister's nose. He was suddenly very self-conscious about the finger he'd been pointing at their father with. He pointed again in that general direction. "Go play," he said a little louder.

"Okay," Anna said, unbothered. She started to run back toward the table, but she stopped after a few steps and looked nervously at John. She instead settled for a playful walk, and threw herself against Sam's leg. "What doin'?" she asked him.

"Homework," Sam told her quietly.

"I he'p you!" Anna suggested cheerily. She dug her small fingers into Sam's leg for leverage and started to pull herself up onto the tiny ledge of the chair. "Dam, he'p," she whimpered when she found herself struggling to get up.

Sam put his hands under her armpits and lifted her onto his lap. "Just watch," he requested. He started to write an answer down, and Anna grabbed at his pencil.

"I he'p," she said proudly.

"Anna," Sam sighed and tugged his pencil out of her reach. "Just watch," he repeated, trying to make eye contact with her. But Anna was focused completely on that mechanical pencil. "Anna. Watch," Sam repeated patiently.

He started to write again. He was halfway through an o when Anna tried to 'help' him again and turned the o into a u with a curly tail like a pig.

"Anna," Sam said, more frustrated this time. "Watch. With your eyes."

Anna turned to look at him, her face uncomfortably close to his. She was looking up at him from under her furrowed brow, and her mouth was set in a thin line.

"Help me by looking with your eyes," Sam said. Maybe if he phrased it right, she would think it sounded fun? It was worth a shot.

Anna's face brightened. "Eye-" she said and nearly poked herself in the eye when she decided to point at it. "Ear. Mouth. Nose." She was moving her head back and forth, poking herself uncoordinatedly in each feature as she named it.

Sam ruffled her curls with one hand and then started to write again. He sang along with her as she continued the song. "Head, shoulders, knees, and toes. Knees and toes."

"Dada!" Anna said. "Knee, toe?"

John gave Anna a half smile, and she looked away from Dean to meet his eyes. "Knee, toe?" she asked shyly.

"You sing it better," John told her and winked.

Anna smiled and tilted her head to the side.

"Keep singing," he encouraged.

"I aw done," Anna told him instead of singing. "Dam. I he'p."

"Help by looking," Sam reminded her. Anna leaned in close. "Great job, Ladybug," he told her and strained to see around her head so he could finish writing in his answer.

"Alright, here we go," Dean said and slid two plates onto the table. "We're eatin' like royalty tonight. Grilled cheese and Campbell's soup."

He made three more trips to the kitchenette before they all had soup and a sandwich in front of them.

Anna ripped the crust off hers and ate it slowly. "No cheese," she said, looking up at Dean.

"What?"

"No cheese," Anna said and pushed her plate towards him. "Take aw."

"What are you talkin' about? The cheese is right there," Dean said and pointed to where it was melting out the sides of Anna's crustless sandwich.

"No. Take aw."

"You want..." Dean squinted. "You want me to take the cheese off your sandwich? It's kinda the main ingredient, Runt."

"No cheese," Anna pleaded.

"Anna, eat," John told her sternly. "Dean made you a nice dinner. You're being rude."

"Dad, it's okay," Dean said.

"Eat," John said again, shooting Dean a look that said to stop stepping on his toes.

Anna pouted for a minute. But she turned back to her sandwich and started to pick at pieces of bread and pop them into her mouth.

"I aw done," she announced about ten minutes later. Her plate was empty save for that melty slice of cheese, coated on both sides by an incredibly thin layer of bread.

"Points for dedication," Dean murmured.

"Anna, eat the cheese," John said over him. "This is your dinner. You eat it, or you get nothing."

"I aw done," Anna retorted. "No cheese. I aw done."

"Anna Grace. Eat it."

"No, Duh. I aw done."

"A-"

"I aw done. I aw done," Anna said repeatedly, barely breathing between her words. "I aw done. I aw done." She just kept saying it so that John had no time to interrupt and scold her anymore. "I aw done."

"Anna!" John finally bellowed. "Eat the damn cheese."

Everyone was looking uncomfortably at him now. Anna was frozen and looked like she was ready to cry.

"Eat," John said again in a clear, hard voice.

Anna's small fingers picked off a piece of her sandwich. "Eat cheese," she said placatingly. "I eat cheese, Duh. I eat cheese."

Dean reached over and rubbed her shoulder once in encouragement. Any more than that might have set their father off again. And the last thing Anna needed was any more conflict.

John shoved his chair back from the table. He didn't look like he felt good. But whether that was guilt, anger, or indignance, nobody could know. He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair.

"Make sure your sister gets a bath," John said.

"Yes, sir," Dean said, and his words collided with the slam of the door.

The apartment was so quiet for the next minute that it felt almost as if they'd all stopped breathing. But when the tension finally dissipated, it was like they all inhaled at once.

"Duh mad."

"Yeah, that's okay, Anna. You don't have to eat the cheese if you don't want it," Dean said. "I'll eat it."

John would have probably cuffed him upside the head if he'd heard that. But John wasn't there. Dean took the cheese off his sister's plate, rolled it up, and shoved it in his mouth.

Anna looked sullen. "I bad," she said quietly. "Dean, I bad."

"No, Rugrat. You're not bad. Daddy's just... he's not feelin' too good. He has a headache."

"Headate?" Anna repeated with sympathy. "Dada headate?"

"Yeah," Dean said and lifted her out of his chair.

Anna snuggled in his lap and fiddled with one of the small buttons on his henley.

"He doesn't have to yell at her like that. It's just a stupid sandwich."

"I know, Sammy," Dean said. "You know how he gets."

"She's only two," Sam said again. His voice wavered with something between sadness and anger. "She doesn't understand."

"I know," Dean said with a little less patience. "What do you want me to do? If I say something, it'll aggravate him."

"I just want him to not be an ass all the time," Sam said tersely and shoved the remaining half of his own sandwich away. He got up from the table and disappeared into the bedroom he'd been sharing with both his siblings.

The door closed with a gentle click behind him.

Sam knew how to keep his anger where it belonged. He didn't want to scare Anna.

"You ready for your bath?" Dean asked his sister gently.

Anna's answer was to scramble off her brother's lap.

When he pulled her out of the tub, the remnants of a bubble beard on her little chin, and Anna said, "Dada funny," Dean knew he had to explain this whole thing to her.

"Anna, I'm not your dada," he told her seriously but gently. "I'm Dean."

"Dean," Anna said. "I wuh you, Dean."

Dean's face scrunched painfully. How was he supposed to be all stern with her now? "I love you too," he said quietly. And why was that so damn hard to say? He loved the kid so much. She was his baby sister. But it was still hard to say that out loud.

"I wuh you," Anna said again.

Dean vowed to himself that she would always say those words that easily. "I love you too," he repeated despite his throat's intention of closing up on him. He pointed at himself. "I'm Dean," he said.

"I Dean," Anna said.

"No, I'm Dean."

"I Dean."

"No, Anna-" Dean cut himself off and took a deep breath. They were still working on the whole I versus you thing. But he knew she understood what he meant. She just didn't know how to say it. "Duh," he said and pointed through the open bathroom door to the front door of the apartment. It was damn sad that a closed door was all he had to represent their father.

Even sadder that Anna understood.

And sadder still that the way she let him know she understood was to say, "Duh mad."

Dean sat there, his heart bleeding into his stomach, and said. "Duh is your dada."

"Duh you dada," she said. But she was clearly just repeating what he'd said. She didn't understand.

And Dean almost didn't want her to. He almost wanted her to be right. He almost wanted her to be his baby girl. Then he could put her in her carseat and drive away, and they could be their own little family. But he didn't want that either. Because he needed Sam, and he needed their Dad. And he knew Anna needed those two even more than he did.

She needed her father. She needed John.

But dammit, he wasn't there. And Dean tried his very best to understand that. Sometimes he even had these little moments where he did understand. Moments where he could accept it. But as quickly as they came, those moments always disappeared. And he was left once again with a stomach ache and a white mask. Acting out his life like a mime pressed their hands to an invisible wall.

It felt so aimless sometimes.

The only point to any of it was Anna. And Sam. But Sam was nearly out of Dean's reach these days.

And he knew he was already failing Anna too.

"I'm your brother," Dean said helplessly. "Duh is your dada."

"Duh... Duh dada me."

She hadn't said it quite right, but... but judging by the lost look on her face, Dean was pretty sure the kid was beginning to understand. He wrapped her towel more tightly around her as she started to shiver. He should've gotten her into her pajamas before starting this conversation. But they were on the homestretch.

"Yeah. Duh is your dada."

"Duh you dada," Anna said. And this time it seemed to have clicked. She looked up at Dean with a quivering chin.

A wet curl was plastered to her forehead, and a drop of water was making its way quickly toward her eyebrow. Dean wanted to wipe it away, but his hands were occupied holding the towel around her to keep her warm enough.

"I... I wuh you, Dean," Anna told him, her eyes dampening.

"Don't cry," Dean pleaded and lifted her small body to his chest. Anna's arms were bound in the towel, so she couldn't hug him back, but she was pressing her face into his shoulder hard enough that Dean could feel the water in his bones. "I'm sorry," he said, though he didn't know for what.

Sorry that he wasn't her father? That was... that was wrong. It was cruel. John was trying. He had every right to call himself their father. He just... Dean just... There was just so much pain.

"I wuh you, Dean," Anna said, her voice so sad that Dean's heart split right in two.

Was she insecure? Did she think he was somehow abandoning her by telling her he wasn't her father?

"I love you too." He said it like a promise. Like the kind of thing that didn't count unless it was a promise.

In their family... in their family, maybe love was like that. Maybe it didn't count unless it was a promise.

Maybe it didn't count unless you shook on it and gave your word.

And lord knew John never took the time.

"Let's get your pjs on, huh?" Dean said lightly. "Let's get ready for bed."

"Geh weady?" Anna asked. She struggled to her feet, and Dean tousled her wet hair with the towel before grabbing her clothes off the toilet lid.

"Yeah, you want your puppy pjs or your polka dots? I brought 'em both."

Five minutes later, Anna was laying in bed beside Sam, watching him turn the page of a novel.

"I wuh you," she said. When he didn't answer right away, she said it again. "I wuh you."

"I love you too," Sam told her, surprised. And he said it again, almost too fast. "I love you too."

Dean looked up with one raised eyebrow. And when he looked back down at his graphic novel, the words and pictures blurred in front of him.

What the hell was he doing to these kids? Why did they say 'I love you' like they were running out of time?

La Fin