Disclaimer: I still don't own Supernatural or its characters. I and am not making any money on this…I'm just having fun!

Summary: It's Sammy's first hunt and of course something has to go wrong. A Hurt Sammy, Big brother Dean story for Easter.

Raven 524: This is my second attempt at a wee-chester fic. Sammy is age 4 and Dean is age 8. Just a little light hearted fluff for the holiday. Happy Easter to all those who celebrate the holiday and for the rest, Happy Spring!

Sammy's First Hunt

Chapter 1 – Family Breakfast

It was almost two o'clock in the morning as Dean yawned and reached for the remote control for the television. He'd dozed off on the old couch watching Godzilla vs. Mothra, one of his favorite monster movies. He glanced at the stairs that led up to the bedroom where his four (almost five according to Sammy) year old brother was currently sleeping. He stood and stretched as he began to check the salt lines and wards around the house. If he hurried he could get a few hours of sleep before the bundle of energy woke demanding breakfast.

He glanced at the clock on the microwave as he double checked the locks on the back door in the old kitchen. His father should be home any time now, in fact he was running a little late. He'd called earlier and said he was on his way. Even at eight years old, Dean understood the dangers involved with what their father did. He fought the monsters that hid in the night only to come out and hurt people. His Dad was a hero but no one would ever know about it. Some days he wanted to shout it out, but the years of being told to keep the family secret had been too well ingrained into him.

He glanced at the phone and wondered if he should call his Dad. If he was almost home, he could wait up and help him unload. His father was always tired after his 'trips' but the worst part was when he came home injured. Dean had learned early how to help clean wounds and stitch them up. First aid was one of the early lessons he'd learned because hospitals were only a last resort. There would be too many questions.

The young boy began to turn off the lights as he headed back to the front of the house. A sound on the front porch caused him to pause, his hand reaching for the shot gun they kept loaded and ready. He remembered his father showing him how to load and shoot the gun. It had been fun at first, until he realized that one day he'd have to use it. His Dad had explained he had to be ready; his main job was to protect his little brother from the monsters when his Dad wasn't home.

His fingers shook as he held the sawed-off. He pumped it and heard the shell fall into the chamber. His head cocked as he heard another sound, this time next to the door. The handle moved slowly followed by the door inching open. Dean pulled the gun up to his shoulder and prepared to fire.

"Dean, son…it's me" John Winchester's voice sounded through the crack in the door before the man entered the room. The large bag on his shoulder dropped to the floor with a loud thump before the man joined the bag. A soft groan fell from pale lips as he hit the ground unmoving.

"Dad!" Dean yelled as he moved towards the fallen man. He kept the gun in his hand until he checked outside to make sure nothing was following his father. The night was silent—too quiet like this Dad.

He quickly closed the door and made sure the salt lines were in place before placed the shot gun down and knelt in front of his father. He breathed a sigh of relief when his shakey fingers found a strong pulse. Gently he rolled his Dad onto his back and began to check him for injuries.

The most obvious one was the gash on his temple. The blood was still slowly running down the side of his father's face. A dark red, made to look even worse against the pallor of skin. Next he noticed a similar red stain on his father's shirt. The material had been shredded along with his father's side. Dean sucked in a breath and wondered if he should call an ambulance. His Dad had lost a lot of blood and was probably going into shock.

"D'n?" A graveled voice caught his attention.

"Dad, you're hurt…"

"M'fine. Just help me up the stairs son and we can get this cleaned up. Damn dog had a mate. She got the drop on me, but I managed to end her before she got too frisky." John smiled and Dean relaxed. If his Dad could still joke, he couldn't be too badly injured.

"Glad you decided not to become puppy chow Dad." Dean remarked as he helped his father back to his feet. John staggered for a moment, but with Dean's hand to steady him, they both managed to get up the stairs and into his father's room. He watched as his father paused outside the door to the room where Sammy slept. A soft smile touched his lips as he gazed at the sleeping youngster before he continued on to his own room.

"He been good for you Dean?" John groaned as Dean helped him remove his shirt. The gashes were long but luckily not very deep.

"The usual. The pre-school helps a little. The teacher says he's real smart Dad. I've been helping him with his alphabet and he can already read some words." The pride in Dean's voice was reflected in his father's eyes.

"You're doing good with him Dean." Dean blushed and looked away at the compliment. He grabbed what he'd need from the bathroom and returned to find his father already propped up on the bed. A towel was pressed against his side to staunch the blood flow while he waited for his oldest to return.

Dean made quick work of cleaning and applying stitches where it was needed. He watched as his father took another sip from the bottle of Jack he always kept on hand for these kinds of situations. Unfortunately, they happened too often. Dean was afraid one of these times, he wouldn't be able to return. But he pushed the thoughts aside as he cleaned up the supplies and helped his Dad lie down on the bed.

"Wake me in a couple of hours Dean…" His father's voice was soft as his eyes closed slowly.

"Sure Dad, I know the drill." Dean sighed. So much for getting any sleep, but then he'd gladly give it up just to know his father was safe. "See you in two hours…" he said softly as he made his way to his own bed. He stopped for a moment and tucked the blankets around his little brother's shoulders before finally dropping into his own bed. He set the alarm on his watch. It would wake him, but not disturb his little brother.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

John groaned as he felt a weight on his chest. It couldn't be two hours already could it? He slowly opened his eyes and saw the light filter through the torn curtains on the window. A hushed voice from the door made him grin.

"Sammy, I told you to leave Dad alone!"

"But its day out and Dad is always awake when its day out. Sleeping is for night time Dean." John felt a shift on his chest as his four year old son turned back to gaze at him. "See he's awake. Hi Dad, did you have fun?"

The injured man cleared his throat before he answered. "Yeah sport, I had fun. But Daddy's a little tired. Can you go help Dean get breakfast ready. I'll take a shower and be down in a little bit."

"Okay!" Sam jumped onto the bed as John tried to suppress a groan. The motion did nothing for the pounding headache or his sore side. A moment later a glass appeared in his vision along with a couple of white pills.

"Thanks Dean…" John smiled at his oldest son.

"You can sleep Dad, I'll keep the little monster busy." Dean turned to leave the room.

"Just give me a bit and I'll be down son. Maybe we can go to the park later and let your brother run off some of that steam he's always so full of."

"Sure Dad, sounds good." Dean grinned as he turned to leave the room.

John slowly pushed himself up and was happy to find that other than being a little stiff, he seemed to be fine. He fingered the bandage on his temple for a moment before he moved slowly towards the bathroom. If he knew his youngest, Dean wouldn't be able to contain him for long.

He remembered the conversation from the night before and smiled. Sammy was smart and advanced for his age. It amazed him sometimes how his son's mind worked. He just hoped they could continue to keep him in the dark for a few more years. He always regretted having to reveal the truth to Dean at a young age. But after the first couple of years, his options for babysitters had run out. Not that he could have kept it from Dean for long, not after his son saw what was out there for himself.

Besides at six year's old, his son had shown more maturity than some of the men he'd hunted with. Dean took to training like a duck to water. He could shoot and throw a knife with uncanny accuracy. It was almost like he was born to hunt. He'd taken Dean on a few real hunting trips and taught him how to track game. When his son shot his first buck, he was proud. It was a clean kill shot to the heart. Yes, Dean was definitely a force to reckon with, especially when it came to protecting his little brother.

John wasn't blind. He knew some times Dean resented taking care of his little brother. He was restless and it was difficult to be locked up with a rambunctious four year old for days on end. But Dean also understood the need and the danger. Not just from humans, but from other bad things that lurked in the dark. John sighed as the hot water ran down his body. His thoughts interrupted but a light knock on the door.

"Dean told me to tell you breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes Dad." The small voice was followed by pounding footsteps down the stairs. He reached to turn off the shower and sighed with regret. It seems his few moments of solitude were over.

He quickly returned to his room and got dressed before he headed for the stairs. He heard a the voices of his boys coming from the kitchen. Before he turned to join them he looked towards the front door and smiled. His ruck sack had been put away and any evidence of his fall last night cleaned. His oldest had been busy. A soft exclaimation from the kitchen drew his attention.

"You're wrong Dean, Dad doesn't hunt rabbits—he can't!" Sam's voice sounded upset as John headed out to the kitchen to find out what the problem was.

"He does so Sammy. He hunts deer too. He's taken me and I even got to shoot one once." Dean's voice was coming from the stove where he was cooking what looked like pancakes.

"Does not…"

"Does too…"

"Boys!" John's voice stopped the argument before it could get any further. His youngest turned and jumped from his chair.

"Dad!" Before John could react, he found his arms filled with his four year old son. "Dean says you hunt bunnies—you don't do you?"

John gazed down into the worried eyes of his youngest. "Well…"

"Sammy, come sit down and finish your breakfast. Dad hasn't even had his coffee yet and you know what he's like before he has his coffee…" Dean placed a large cup of black coffee on the table with a plate of pancakes.

Sam jumped from his arms and headed back towards his seat. It always amazed John how well his youngest obeyed his oldest son. He grinned as Sam swung his legs while he pushed another forkful of pancakes into his mouth. He could tell the question wasn't going to go away until his youngest got his answer.

Deciding to at least get some caffeine into him before he addressed what was sure to be an interesting discussion; he sat down and grabbed his cup. He watched as Dean finally joined them. His own cup of coffee rose while green eyes smiled at him over the rim.

He probably should have insisted Dean drink milk, but then his son had earned the right to be treated more like an adult.

John took a moment to enjoy the scene. When Mary was alive they always ate at the table like this. He sighed as he realized once again how much he missed her. Both boys reminded him so much of her it hurt sometimes. However, his youngest wasn't going to give him time to wallow in memories of the past as he placed his empty milk glass back down on the table.

"Dean says you were hunting bunnies last night Dad, is that true?" John looked over at Dean and saw the smile on his face.

"I told you, Dad was hunting with some of his friends Sam." It was clear Dean was covering once again for his father. John listened some more knowing his oldest would clue him in on the cover story.

"But he has owies Dean. Bunnies don't make owies like that…" Sam pointed to the bandage on John's head. He looked over at Dean who shrugged. Obviously that was as far as his oldest had gotten and he was going to have to provide the rest.

"Dean's right Sammy, I was hunting with some friends last night. I fell in the dark and hit my head and scratched my side up some. It's nothing to worry about sport." John watched as his youngest processed the information.

"But what were you hunting Dad?" Sam pushed.

"Uhm, well I guess whatever we could find Sam. Sometimes I just like to hunt. I don't always know what I'm going to find in the woods." There he'd managed to get some truth into this words. He certainly hadn't been prepared to find two black dogs last night. He saw Sam chewing on his lower lip for a moment before his eyes moved up to meet John's.

"So you kill bunnies?" Sam said quietly. John wasn't sure where this was going but he figured he'd find out soon enough. His youngest could never keep his thoughts or feelings inside. They burst out of him, sometimes at the most inopportune moments.

"Only for food Sam. You've eaten some of my rabbit stew and you liked it well enough." John watched as his son paled slightly.

Sam looked down and chewed on his lip some more before he looked up with tear filled eyes. "Daddy, did you kill a bunny last night?"

John wasn't sure why this was upsetting his son. Sam had asked more than once to go hunting with him and he'd promised he could go when he got older. He looked at Dean who only shrugged his shoulders. It was obvious he wasn't going to get any clues as to what was bothering Sam. "Why Sammy?"

Sam sat back and looked at him like he should know the answer. "You could have shot him Dad, how can you tell if you shot the wrong bunny!"

"The wrong bunny?" John heard a soft chuckle coming from the other end of the table.

"Sammy, you are such an idiot some times…" Dean started but stopped as Sam's tears fell followed by a soft sob.

"Am not—how can Dad tell that he didn't kill the wrong bunny. If he did then there won't be no candy or eggs or anything on Sunday…" Sam stood and rushed from the room, his little legs pounded up the stairs and the door slammed shut before John realized what his son was talking about.

"Oh God…I forgot…" John groaned as his oldest son stood and cleared the table. His chuckles filled the room.

"Yeah, that's right Dad. Sam thinks you may have killed the Easter Bunny…" Dean sat down and laughed until tears fell from his eyes. "Seriously Dad, can't we tell him it's not real?"

John sighed. "You believed at that age Dean and Sam deserves to believe for a little while longer…"

Dean shook his head. "So how you gonna explain to him that you know the difference between the Easter Bunny and some old rabbit?"

"First, I'm going to need another cup of coffee and by then I'll have it figured out Dean." John sighed as he realized he would need to come up with something good because Sam wouldn't be easy to convince. As he took another sip of coffee, his own lips twitched as he thought how Mary would react. Yes, he'd have to come up with a good story if he was going to let his youngest keep his innocence in tact for another year.

TBC

Raven524: Should I continue?