Author's Note: After writing my first E/O drabble, suddenly this happened. The word (on da streets, y'all) is "trash".

Second Word, Five Letters

Dean was lying on the floor on his tummy, drawing pictures on his sketch pad (and sometimes the carpet), while little Sammy slept beside him, wrapped in a warm blanket. Daddy had been away for most of the day and it was getting dark.

It was then that Dean heard the rumbling of their car's engine as Daddy arrived back again. The door was opened, and Sammy woke at the noise. Dean held up his sketch pad to show Daddy what he'd drawn. "Look, Daddy, I drew M—" he started.

He got little more than a grunt in response.

John closed the bathroom door behind him with a bang. He stood in front of the grubby mirror as he pulled a bloody shirt sleeve up.

The nest of three vamps he'd taken out had been fast, but John had been faster. One of them had managed to clip him as he'd spun to separate head from shoulders.

He dabbed at the injury with toilet paper. He had two boys he was responsible for; he couldn't be too careful. He took a deep breath and poured a bit of holy water into the cut. It hurt.

The alcohol hurt worse.

"Son of a—" Dean heard the hiss of pain, "—bitch!"

He waited quietly for Daddy to come out of the bathroom and look at the picture of Mommy he'd drawn.

"'itch," said Sammy with a smile. "'itch." He giggled, and a bubble of spit formed on his lips.

"What was that, Sammy?" Dean asked, leaning over his little brother.

"'itch."

Sammy's first word had been 'Dean-a', and Dean had been trying to teach him to drop the 'A' he put at the end sometimes. "B-itch," Dean said slowly, revelling in the opportunity to teach Sammy some trash talk.

"'itch," Sammy said again, warming to his theme.

"B-itch," Dean repeated carefully.

"Dean-a... ba-itch!"

"No, I'm not the bitch, you're the bitch. Bitch."

"Dee-itch!"

"No, no. B-itch."

"Ba-itch."

"Close enough." Dean could hear the shower running. Daddy would be a while yet. "Hey, do you wanna see my drawing?" He held the page up for Sammy to look. "That's Mommy."

"Mmmm," said Sammy. He chewed on the corner of the page.

For a while, everybody except Dean was a 'ba-itch'. Dean hadn't been sure Daddy would be pleased about Sammy's new word, but he'd just smiled, much to Dean's relief.

Another day, another motel. Dean carried Sammy into reception, while Daddy followed behind with their duffel bags. The man behind the counter, who'd been wearing a stony expression beforehand, seemed to melt into a puddle of goo at the sight of baby Sammy.

"Hello, there!" he said to Sammy, voice high-pitched. "Who's a lovely baby?"

"Ba-itch," said Sammy proudly.

The man's eyes widened in horror, and he looked up at Daddy.

"He likes dogs a lot," butted in Dean before Daddy could say anything.

The man looked at Dean.

"Ba-itch," said Sammy.

"Do you like dogs?" asked Dean conversationally, grinning.

The End

A/N: I just find a swearing baby to be very funny. Thanks for reading! :)