Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It’s a cold Saturday night, the wind is howling against the windows, screeching like a cat being strangled. My parents out of town but I’ve got to babysit to keep out of trouble so I’m looking after Sam Winchester for Mary and John that live in the house on the corner.

At the moment I’m talking to my friend (Y/F/N) about our plans for this evening being ruined. She’s not happy.

“What do you mean you’re not coming? The one night the Red Hot Chilli Peppers are playing in OUR TOWN and you decide to babysit? How stupid are you?”

I sigh, “I didn’t choose and Sam really isn’t that bad-“

WAAAAAH!

“Ugh, BRB.”

Stupid kid, with his stupid whining, with his stupid bed time and stupid parent’s rules.
A big two bedroom house on the corner of a road that sticks out like Lady Gaga in a church with white-washed walls and a white picket fence. The Winchesters moved in a year ago with a year old baby Sam, no one knows where they came from. No one’s ever asked.

WAAAAAH!

This kid.

At least he’s cute.

I walked into the room the kid is in and once again I’m amazed. It’s full of angel toys.
Seriously, there’s a whole mantelpiece above an open fireplace full of them. All different shapes and sizes with the same tacky wings and halo. The walls are a soft baby blue and the floor is a slightly darker shade. But the door is the weirdest part, in dark red pain there’s marks. Like scratches that have been dragged into the door. One is like a pentagram. If I didn’t know any better I would say the Winchesters were into Satan.

But they go to Church. All the time. They talk to the pastor every day and walk away with bottles of water.

Sam is still crying, his face is screwed up and he’s shrieking.

It’s annoying.

“Sam, please shut up. Please” I pick him up beginning to rock him.

He cries anyway.

“Oh, come on. Please. What about a story? Um…” I continue rocking him, moving around the room as I do.

“Once upon a time, there was a girl. A beautiful young girl with big dreams. She wanted to move out of her parent’s house so she could start a band with her friends. But unfortunately, the wicked adults foiled her plans of adventure, fame and fortune to make her the unwilling slave of a selfish child. What no one knew, not even the girl herself, was that the King of the Goblins was in love with the girl so he gave her unknown power. He wanted her to be free. ‘Say your write words’ he said ‘and the goblins will take the child away so you can do whatever your heart desires’. So one day, when her biggest inspiration for her dreams was denied to her, she summoned the Goblin King with her words.”

I pause, the French doors leading to the child’s balcony giving me a wide view of the dark night, cut through with bolts of lightning as a harsh wind howls outside.

Sam was silent. His eyes drooping.

I exhale before continuing, “’I wish the goblins would come and take you away.’ And so they did and she was free from the selfish desire of the child. The end.”

I looked down. Sam’s eyes are closed and he’s breathing evenly. He’s fine.

I put him down in his white crib, cover him with a baby blue blanket and put his Moose teddy into his arms.

He’s adorable.

I turn around and walk out of the room but I’m worried.

Something’s off.

But then again, maybe I shouldn’t of told him that story.

After all, words have power.