A/N Happy birthday Sammy!

So this is my first attempt at writing flashbacks. I'm not sure about the structure of the story because of it, so I worry it might be a little contrived and have choppy pacing, but I hope you'll roll with it anyway. I was going to save this for mother's day but today's Sammy's birthday and his birthday is featured in this and yeah...

This may look a bit like my other story "Little Boy Lost" (which I swear will be updated!) at first, but that's because when I got the idea for it I had two seperate storlines play out in my head that I loved and I could only choose one. Then this idea popped up so I decided to write the other version as well but shorten it into a one shot and have it in Sammy's POV. I hope you like the result.

Warning: Angst, brotherly shmoop, protective big brothers, sweet little brothers, hurt/comfort, suspense, danger and "awww" moments ahead!

Disclaimer: Yes, I own "Supernatural". On DVD. Seasons 1-5. Why do you ask?

ENJOY!

Brother's Day

by Deana W.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't we have a mommy?"

"What?"

"I mean everyone else does."

"We had a mom. But she died when you were a baby."

"Oh."

o-o-o

The tables in the room were decorated with a lot of pinks and reds, reminding Sammy of the day they made cards for Valentine's Day at his old school. There were other colors too though and when Sammy sat in his seat he took a blue piece of construction paper because he liked blue and then looked at it, confused about what to do with it.

This was only his second day at his new school and his new teacher, Mrs. Brewer, just made instructions to make a card for their mom, but Sammy didn't have a mom anymore. His mommy was dead. It was just him and Dean and Daddy.

Mrs. Brewer knelt down beside him and put her hand on his shoulder, "Sammy, why aren't you working on your card like everyone else?"

"I don't have a mommy to make a card for."

"Well," Mrs. Brewer said knowingly, used to dealing with kids in unique familial situations. Voice softening in compassion she asked, "What about your grandmother?"

"I don't have one," Sammy said, though he wasn't entirely sure. He'd have to ask Dean about that.

"Favorite aunt?"

Sammy shook his head. He had an aunt but he never met her.

Mrs. Brewer sighed, "OK then, how about you make a card for your dad?"

"Isn't that what Father's Day is for?"

"Well it won't hurt to make him one for Mother's Day too, right?"

"I guess."

"There's got to be someone who you can make the card for."

"Um, OK," Sammy nodded, looking at the blue paper in front of him. Mrs. Brewer went back to checking on the other kids and Sammy frowned. He wasn't sure what to do but he guessed that if he knew more about mother's he'd figure out what to do. He turned to his new friend Jeremy who was sitting at the table next to him. "What does your mother do?"

Jeremy shrugged, "I don't know."

"What makes her a mother?"

"I don't know. She had me."

"But what does she do?" Sammy asked, getting a little frustrated, "There's got to be more that a mother does than have babies."

Jeremy thought about it, "My mommy tucks me in at night and reads me a story…"

o-o-o

"Sammy I swear there are no monsters under the bed," Dean sighed, "I checked, believe me I checked."

"Can you check again?"

"OK," Dean huffed, looking under the bed. "Just dust bunnies under here Squirt. There are no monsters in this room and the salt on the door and window will keep them out so you don't have anything to worry about."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Now go to sleep!"

"But I'm not sleepy."

"Try?"

"Can I have a story?"

"We don't have any books here, remember?" Dean asked, motioning to the threadbare room. "Look, Dad's coming back tomorrow and if you're up all night he'll know and I'll be in deep sh—trouble."

"You were gonna say a bad word, werent't ya?" Sammy smirked.

"No I was not!"

"Was too!"

"Well I didn't."

"Can you tell me a story?" Sammy asked.

Dean sighed and smoothed the covers around Sammy and sat down on the bed beside his little brother. He looked around the room and frowned then rubbed absently at his growling stomach.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, I'll uh...eat in a minute," Dean shrugged, he paused.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't you gonna tell me a story?"

"I'm thinking!"

"I want a ghost story!"

Dean gave him a funny look opened his mouth to speak and then frowned. "I uh…"

"What you don't know any ghost stories?"

"No! I know lots of them but... I just don't know any that won't give you nightmares," Dean replied quickly, almost defensively. He thought a second. "OK I think I got one!"

Sammy settled into his pillow and watched as Dean started to speak.

"OK so there was this couple who lived just outside this small town and they lived in a big beautiful house that they loved a lot. One day they drive into town and get into an accident and… Sammy close your eyes, you're supposed to be falling asleep!"

"Sorry."

Dean waited until Sammy closed his eyes and settled further into his bed. He tucked the covers around him and continued, "Anyway, they get into an accident and die. They woke up in their house but now they're ghosts and they discover they can't leave their house."

"I saw this movie!" Sammy opened an eye and smirked.

"Humour me will ya?"

"'s OK," Sammy murmured, "I liked it."

"Cool. So they can't leave which is fine except this new family move in and man, are they weird! They turn their home into a freaky weird artsy place and the ghosts want the family to move out, but there's this girl who can see them…"

Sammy listened to Dean retell the movie and drifted off to sleep.

o-o-o

"Oh," Sammy said to Jeremy, "what else do mommy's do?"

Jeremy frowned, lifting his shoulders in a shrug, "She feeds me so I'm not hungry…"

o-o-o

"Lucky Charms! Lucky Charms!" Sammy chanted, "I want Lucky Charms!"

Dean looked into the empty cupboard and frowned. "We don't have any more Lucky Charms!"

"But I want Lucky Charms!"

"Sammy right now we don't really have anyth—hold on…" Dean fished into his pockets with a sigh and pulled out some change. He rubbed his forehead as he held the change in his palm and counted. He balled his hand into a fist and closed his eyes in concentration. He looked at the motel room door and back at Sammy.

"What are you doing?" Sammy asked.

Dean didn't answer, he just absently rubbed his stomach as he fished through his duffel and Sammy's duffel and checked the pockets of his jacket and the jacket Dad left behind. He laughed, pulling out a ten dollar bill out of one of their father's inside coat pockets, "Jackpot!"

"What?"

"Sammy, you want Lucky Charms? You're getting Lucky Charms!" Dean announced happily. "You just gotta promise you'll stay here and not open the door for anyone but me, OK?"

"OK."

Dean put on his jacket, "I'll only be ten minutes or so."

"Can I come?" Sammy asked.

"Not in this neighbourhood. Besides, I don't have a key and I need you to let me back in," Dean replied, "You remember the secret knock?"

Sammy knocked on the table three times, paused, knocked once, paused and knocked twice.

"Perfect. I'll be right back."

Sammy waited, watching the clock, proud that he knew how now since Dean taught him Ten minutes passed. Another ten minutes passed. Sammy was starting to worry. Another five minutes and he heard a frantic knock. Three times. Pause. Once. Pause. Two frantic times. Repeat. Sammy dashed for the door and opened it. Dean burst in and locked the door behind him, first the deadbolt and then the chain.

"What's wrong? What took you so long?"

Dean was out of breath and for a second Sammy thought he looked scared but the look quickly vanished and he grinned, "Sorry about that Squirt, didn't meant to take so long but I had to take the long way back. Anyway, check it out!" he held up a plastic bag set it on the table and pulled out a carton of milk a small box of Lucky Charms, some peanut M&M's and a can of Spaghetti-o's. "We're gonna have a feast today!"

He caught his breath, moved the heavy curtain aside a fraction to peer out the window, breathed a sigh, his posture relaxing and then turned to Sammy, giving him a wide smile. "Go wash up for breakfast Sammy."

Sammy did as he was told and when he came out of the bathroom Dean already had his bowl ready and a glass of milk poured. "Is Daddy coming back today?"

"He should be," Dean shrugged, "C'mon, eat up."

"Where's your cereal?"

"I already ate when I was gone," he shrugged casually. He held up his bag of M&M's, "Besides, I'm good!"

Sammy shrugged and ate his cereal while Dean sat across from him, watching him eat and occasionally glancing at the door. When he was full he went to watch cartoons while Dean finished what Sammy didn't eat and cleaned up.

o-o-o

"My mommy takes care of me when I'm sick…"

o-o-o

"Sammy? What's the matter?"

"My tummy hurts," he complained.

"You gotta puke?" Dean asked. Sammy shook his head and doubled over, curling into a ball on the bed. Dean sat beside him and stroked his forehead, "Well it doesn't feel like you have a fever, so that's good at least."

"When's daddy coming back?"

"Soon."

"You said he'd be back yesterday," Sammy frowned, a little whiny, a little bit accusing.

"I know but he must've gotten delayed," Dean frowned. He reached into his pocket, counted the change and put it back in. He sighed and lifted the blankets and tucked them around him. "I think you feel bad because of all the sugar in those Lucky Charms you've been eating," he mused. It made sense because that was all he ate all day. Dean fed him the Spaghetti-o's the night before and the Lucky Charms were all that was left. "Do you feel shaky?"

"A little."

"You think some water or milk might help?"

Sammy shrugged pitifully and buried his face in his pillow with a groan. Dean gave him a pat on the back and went into the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later with a glass of water.

"Here, drink this," he said, handing him the glass. He rummaged through his stuff again, and the drawer in the kitchenette. "Try eating these, OK?" he tossed a couple of packets of saltine crackers, the kind that only had two inside that they collected from various diners. Other than one more bowl of cereal, it was all they had left.

Sammy just looked at it with a grimace. "They're crumbs."

"All the same in here," Dean pointed to his belly that growled in response. He groaned a little and then chuckled and Sammy smiled.

The smile however quickly turned into a frown, "Dean I'm gonna—"

"You feel like you're gonna barf?"

Sammy nodded.

"Come on," Dean said, quickly leading him into the bathroom—just in time too. As soon as Sammy reached the toilet his Lucky Charms made a reappearance. Tears leaked from his eyes as he puked and Dean knelt beside him, rubbing circles into his back.

When Sammy was finished he whimpered and Dean wet a clean facecloth and wiped his face and then gave him a little bit of water to rinse his mouth.

"Did that help?"

"I…" he sniffed, "I don't kn-know!"

"Come on, kiddo," Dean murmured affectionately, "Why don't you lie down and then later you can try eating the crackers."

"Do we have any soup?"

"Sorry dude, all out."

Sammy sighed a little dramatically and then nodded and Dean guided him to bed. On the way he threw up again…all over Dean. Sammy started to cry pitifully, "I…I'm sorry Dean!" he sobbed, feeling awful and guilty.

Dean sort of froze in place a moment, looking a little green himself and he blinked slowly, taking a deep breath. He swallowed a bit, as though he was on the verge of throwing up too but then he relaxed and then stroked Sammy's hair, "It's OK Squirt, it happens. Uh…" he looked down at his soiled clothes and the floor where some colourful marshmallowy vomit hit the floor. "I'll get you a barf bucket, OK?"

Sammy cried again.

"C'mon," Dean returned to the bathroom and wiped Sammy's face again and wiped at his own clothes, getting rid of the excess vomit. He stroked Sammy's hair gently as he guided him back to bed.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Dean reiterated, "it was an accident, it happens."

He tucked Sammy into bed, gave him a little bit of water and when he was settled changed his clothes and washed them in the tub and then returned to Sammy with a trashcan for Sammy to use as a barf bucket.

Sammy didn't puke again and after a while he started feeling better. Dean gave him the crackers and some more water and they watched TV the rest of the day, Dean never leaving his side. By the end of the day, Sammy was back to his old self.

o-o-o

Sammy pondered what Jeremy said a moment and looked around the classroom where all the other kids were hard at work making their cards. He looked back at Jeremy, "Is that it?"

"No," Jeremy shrugged, "My mommy does lots of things for me."

"Like what?"

Jeremy thought a second, "Well, when it was my birthday, she gave me presents and stuff."

o-o-o

"Happy birthday, Sammy!" Dean cheered loudly.

Sammy opened his eyes and startled at the sight of his big brother pouncing on him. Dean lightly hit him six times in the shoulder. "OW! Dean! Stop hitting me!"

"It's your birthday doofus, you need a birthday beating. Six punches because you're six years old today." Dean announced. "And I've got something for you!"

"What?"

Dean grinned and dug around in his duffel and pulled out one of those plastic light sabres that extended when you shook it.

"Cool! Where'd you get that?" Sammy asked, his eyes lighting up.

"I have my ways," Dean shrugged.

"Does it light up?"

"I don't think so."

Sammy shrugged, it didn't bother him one bit that it didn't. He thought it was really cool anyway. He shook it and the plastic extended and he swung it around, pretending he was Luke Skywalker. Dean said that if Sammy was Luke than he wanted to be Hans Solo but Sammy insisted he played Darth Vader. After Sammy defeated the evil empire Dean handed him a piece of blue construction paper folded in half.

"What's this?"

"Look at it!" Dean shrugged.

"What's it say?"

"Sound it out," Dean encouraged, "you can read it."

So Sammy looked at it and realized Dean made him a card. He read "Happy Birthday, Sammy" on the front and inside it said, "IOU" and then there was a drawing of a cake and a bike. Sammy looked at him, "I don't get it."

"Well," Dean explained, "we can't have a proper birthday party right now, but when Dad gets back he promised we'd go to Uncle Bobby's and have a real birthday party and Uncle Bobby and I… well… Bobby found this old bike and me and him restored it for you! You're getting a bike!"

"Really!"

"Yeah, what do you think we were doin' last time we were there?"

Sammy threw his arms around him, tackling him to the floor, "That's so cool! Thanks Dean! Will you show me how to ride?"

Dean laughed, "Of course I will silly!"

o-o-o

"My mommy always keeps me safe and is always there when I'm scared or have a nightmare…"

o-o-o

A loud clap of thunder shook the motel room and Sammy jumped. "It's OK, Sammy," Dean soothed, "It's just a storm."

"Dean," Sammy said, "I'm hungry."

Dean groaned and rolled over. He was lying down because he wasn't feeling good. He said it was nothing, he just needed to lie down until the feeling passed, but he didn't seem to be much better. His stomach protested as he sat up so he snaked an arm across his empty belly and turned to his little brother, "I know but we… we don't have anything left. When… when dad comes back…"

"When will that be?"

"Soon."

"You said he was coming back days ago."

"I know."

More thunder and Sammy crawled into bed with Dean who wrapped his arm around him. "It's OK, Sammy," he whispered, "just a storm."

"I know but it's scary."

"I don't…know about that," Dean grinned, "I think it's…it's cool."

Sammy frowned, "Are you OK?"

"Yeah," Dean murmured, "Of course I am. Just need to…sleep this off."

"Did you eat too much sugar?"

Dean laughed but didn't elaborate, instead his stomach just growled and he buried his face in his pillow. "Go watch some TV, OK?"

"But…"

With a sigh Dean sat up. Another crack of thunder had Sammy seeking shelter in his brother's arms. Dean rubbed Sammy's shoulder, "You're… such a girl…Samantha."

"De-ean!" Sammy whined, "It's scary! And I'm hungry!"

"Tell you what," Dean said tiredly, "I've got…a little bit of money left and…there's a vending machine outside."

"Y-you're going out there?" Sammy asked incredulously.

"Look we—you're hungry…and Dad's not back yet so…" Dean groaned, rubbing his stomach in discomfort until he caught Sammy's gaze on him and he grinned, "I'll be right back. You know the drill."

"Don't let anyone in but you," Sammy recited as he mimicked the secret knock on the bedside table.

"Atta boy," Dean smirked. He climbed out of bed, swayed a little but recovered quickly, motioning to Sammy that he was fine and there was nothing to worry about. He put on his boots and jacket and disappeared into the rain.

Sammy closed the door after him and waited. More thunder and lightning had Sammy backing away from the door in fear and at one point he screamed a little, but felt embarrassed and glad Dean didn't hear it as much as he wished Dean didn't leave him alone.

But Sammy was hungry so what else was he supposed to do? He grabbed his new toy and shook it so the blue sabre part extended and sat on the bed waiting, pretending he was Luke Skywalker and that he wasn't afraid of anything. No silly storm can scare him!

Dean's frantic knock made him jump, partially because it came at the same time as another clap of thunder and partially because it felt oddly unexpected, even though he expected it. Sammy opened the door after Dean had repeated the secret knock twice and Dean burst in the room, breathless and soaking wet from rain. He peered out the window as he locked the door, flinching as a bolt of lightning lit up the sky. That flinch alone was enough to double his fear of the spring storm ravaging outside.

"Dean? Is someone out there?"

Turning to face him Dean leaned against the door and slid down to the floor, leaving a wet trail on the wall. Dean shook his head as he tried to gather his bearings, "I…I thought I…" he gasped trying to catch his breath, "thought I saw something."

"What?"

Rubbing his face with shaking hands Dean smiled at him, "Nothing, it was nothing." He didn't look as sure as he tried to sound, but Sammy believed him because Dean wouldn't lie, he just wasn't feeling good, that was why he looked…off. Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out a bag of chips and a bag of peanuts, "Check it…out. Protein and vegetables."

"No peanut M&M's?" Sammy asked. Those were Dean's favourite..

"Don't n-need the s-sugar," Dean shivered, wrapping his arms around himself, "D-damn, it's c-cold out there."

"You're all wet. Why don't change into dry clothes?"

"Give me a minute," Dean breathed. He was trembling and it was beginning to scare Sammy.

"You're sick," Sammy declared. Sick was more than just not feeling good.

"I'm fine. Just…j-just need to get warmed up and…and eat s-something," Dean replied. He closed his eyes a moment, and then rose shakily to his feet. He peered out the window, but couldn't see anything so he turned off the lights. He visibly relaxed in the darkness of the room and turned the lights back on.

"Why'd you do that?"

"Wanted a better look outside."

"Why?"

"Jeez Sammy, what's with all the questions?" Dean snapped, throwing Sammy off guard for a moment. "Now are we eating or not?"

Sammy nodded, his tummy growling. Dean tossed him the peanuts and Sammy awkwardly caught them with both hands as they bounced off his belly.

"Eat slowly, and save some for me," Dean instructed as he reached into his duffel and pulled out some clean and dry clothes and then staggered to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Dean?" Sammy called. Moving closer to the bathroom door, "I'm scared of the storm."

"I'll be right out," Dean called. Sammy waited patiently, but when a flash of lightning accompanied by the loudest boom of thunder yet suddenly cloaked the room in darkness, he screamed.

"SHIT!" Dean cursed from within the bathroom, "Son of a bitch!"

Sammy started to sob, pressing himself against the wall next to the bathroom. He heard Dean grunt and struggle to finish getting changed in the dark and then the door opened.

"Sammy? You OK?" Dean asked, settling in beside him. Sammy just cried. "Shh, hey dude, it's OK, the storm just knocked the power off. It'll come back on."

"I don't like the dark!" Sammy wailed. Dean put an arm across his back and held him gently. Sammy could feel his brother shivering and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see that his brother had his eyes closed and a grimace crossed his features. Sammy was about to say something but another crash of lightning illuminated the room for a moment through the gap in the curtains and he buried his face in Dean's chest.

"It's OK, Sammy, it's just a storm, it won't hurt you," Dean soothed.

Sammy could feel Dean's stomach rumbling with the thunder in hunger and he looked up at him again, "Dean?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"Are you OK?"

"Of course I am," Dean replied. "Come on, let's…let's sit down." He led Sammy to the bed and then knelt over Dad's extra duffel, the one with weapons and the med kit, but also the flashlight. He pulled out the light and turned it on, "Better?"

Sammy nodded.

"Great!" Dean exclaimed, jumping to his feet. But he swayed and nearly fell back down.

"Dean? What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," Dean murmured. He cleared his throat and added with more strength, "Head rush." Sammy could see him smirk in the darkness as Dean gave a low chuckle.

Sammy grinned, "Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You said a bad word when the lights got dark," he smirked.

Dean chuckled good naturedly, "Uh, OK, about that? Don't tell Dad."

"I won't," Sammy laughed.

They ate the meagre food Dean got from the vending machine as they huddled under the covers of the bed. Dean, to warm up from his trip outside in the rain, and Sammy, to feel safer from the storm raging outside. Sammy felt a little better after eating, and Dean seemed to be feeling better too once he got warmed up and fed. But even Sammy knew it wasn't enough for either of them. Still, Dean reassured him that Dad would be back soon and then everything would be OK.

"How do you know?" Sammy asked, the late hour making him sleepy.

"Because he was due back a few days ago," Dean replied, "When have you ever known him to be more than two or three days late?"

"Never?"

"Exactly."

The thunder rolled and Sammy tensed, "What about the storm? And the lights?"

"Storm can't hurt us, and the power will be on again once they get a chance to fix it," Dean replied, "Besides, it's bedtime. By the time you wake up tomorrow morning the storm will be over and the power will be back."

"Promise?"

"Promise," Dean grinned, "And in the meantime we have the flashlight, and you have me."

There was a strange noise outside and it brought Dean to attention. Sammy looked at him, "What's wrong?" he asked.

Dean looked uncertain, "Probably nothing." He rose unsteadily to his feet, and went to the window and carefully peered outside moving the curtain away just enough to look, but to not be noticeable from outside.

"Dean?"

"Shh," he put a finger to his mouth and looked out again. He frowned, looking around the parking lot. Finally he sighed, "I don't see anything out there."

He rejoined Sammy on the bed, flopping down on top of the covers and burying his face in his pillow, holding his stomach.

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah," Dean replied with a small groan, "just…you know."

Sammy didn't know, but he didn't bother to press the issue. The storm and the noise outside had him worried. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you tell me a story?"

Dean sighed, "Now?"

"The storm is scary and… and it distracts me and," Sammy sighed, "and I'm bored."

"Try going to sleep."

Sammy glared at him incredulously, his face comical in the shadows of the flashlight. Dean grinned at him in amusement and Sammy huffed in frustration. "I can't sleep in this storm!" Sammy protested, his voice shrill.

"Sammy, keep your voice down!" Dean warned, his amusement suddenly gone.

"Why?"

"Just… just cuz, all right?" He looked at the door and then back at Sammy. "It's late kiddo, I know the storm is scary, but…" he groaned softly in discomfort, "but I'm here, OK? You don't have to be scared as long as I'm around."

"You still feel bad?"

"A little," Dean admitted, "but I'll feel better tomorrow." His eyes drifted to the door and then back, "How about that story?"

"Can you tell me a real story this time?"

"What do you mean a real story? I told you a real story last time."

"I mean real!"

"Oh, a true story you mean?"

"Yeah."

"About what?"

Sammy frowned as he thought about it. A rumble of thunder had him glancing nervously at the window curtain, as though he could see through it and he flinched when lightning lit up the room through the gaps in the curtain. But then his eyes rested on Dean and he felt safe. "I don't know. Anything."

Dean ended up telling him about the day he first met Sammy.

o-o-o

A loud crack of thunder woke him up. Sammy opened his eyes and whimpered, because he had been dreaming about the storm, he dreamt that lightning struck the motel and a fire broke out on the ceiling right above him and there was a dark figure with a pale, old, creepy face hovering beside his bed. He looked up at the ceiling and then around the room and relaxed. There was no dark figure, there was no fire on the ceiling. But then there was no Dean either.

"Dean?" Sammy whimpered, "Dean? Where are you? I had a bad dream."

Sammy sat up and glanced towards the bathroom, thinking he was in there but, there was no light on. When he remembered the power went off, he felt scared again because what if it stayed off and where was Dean?

When he looked in the direction of the door he relaxed when he saw the top of his brother's head next to the mattress and he crawled closer and saw that Dean was asleep on the floor, sitting with his legs crossed and his back leaning against the bed and facing the door. Sammy found the flashlight and clicked it on, and saw that Dean's gun was resting in his lax fingers on his lap. He nudged him, "Dean?"

Dean jumped, lifting his gun, aiming for the door before his mind caught up to reality. Dean blinked and turned to face Sammy, looking completely wiped. "Hey Sammy, you OK?"

"I had a bad dream," Sammy whispered, his eyes flicking towards the gun and back to Dean. "What are you doing down there?"

"Watching the door," Dean replied sleepily, still not quite awake.

"Why?"

Dean shrugged, "Just in case." Shoulders sagging from exhaustion Dean took a deep breath and climbed onto the bed next to his brother. "You OK?"

"I had a bad dream," Sammy said again. A bolt of lightning made him flinch, but the delayed thunder told him the storm was leaving now and it wasn't as scary anymore. But the dream was still scary, even though he knew it was just a bad dream.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"I dreamed there was a fire in the room cuz of lightning and there was a dark, scary looking thing by my bed," Sammy said.

Dean smiled gently, "It was just a dream."

"But it was scary."

"I know," Dean replied, stroking his hair, "but you don't have to be afraid. I'm here."

Sammy fell asleep not long after that. He felt comfortable and warm, with his brother sitting beside him, keeping lookout. Lookout for what Sammy didn't know. Maybe Dad, maybe the nightmares. Maybe the monsters that Sammy was certain liked to hide in closets and under beds.

o-o-o

Jeremy thought a moment as Sammy looked at him, wanting more, "My mommy once told me she wouldn't let anybody hurt me."

o-o-o

As it turned out, Dean was on the lookout for some bad men. And it was a good thing too because the next thing that woke Sammy up wasn't thunder or a bad dream, but a knock on the door. A knock that was definitely not the secret knock. It was a pounding, a demand for them to open the door.

"Dean?" Sammy whimpered, clutching his brother's arm tightly. Dean shushed him and grabbed his gun.

The knocking became more forceful and Dean crept to the door to peek stealthily out the window through the crack in the curtain without moving the curtain. He backed up a few steps as the knocking turned into a pounding.

"Sammy, hide," Dean motioned for him to get under the bed, "no matter what happens, don't make a sound, don't let them know where you are."

"What's going on?"

"Hide," Dean whispered emphatically as the door shook, "And be quiet."

Sammy rolled under the bed and Dean locked and then closed the bathroom door, standing in front of it, raising his gun to the door with shaking hands just as it burst open, breaking off its hinges.

"Stay back!" Dean hissed at the intruders, Sammy could see from where he was hiding that there were two of them, they looked angry and dangerous.

"Yep, just as I thought, you are John Winchester's boy," one of them said, "Didn't I tell you?" he asked the other one.

"That you did," the second one sneered.

"What do you want?" Dean tried to sound demanding, but Sammy could tell he was scared.

"Where's your little brother?" the man asked.

From where Sammy was hiding he could get a better look at his brother and he watched the color drain from his face. "Why?"

"No reason, we just want to talk to him," the first one said in a placating yet mocking tone, like he were speaking to someone who was an idiot.

Sammy heard the click of Dean's gun and watched him take aim, "He ain't here. Now get out of here before I shoot you."

They laughed, loud and menacing. "You won't shoot us, you probably don't even know how."

Dean aimed at his balls, "You want to bet? Get out!"

"Ooh, such a big boy, playing with daddy's toys," he mocked. His tone darkened, "Where's your brother?"

"Not here."

"Liar," the first man said, "He's in there, isn't he?" He tilted his chin to the bathroom door. Dean flinched and took a tiny step backwards, closer to the bathroom door, his hand shaking so bad he had to hold his gun with both hands. "Hey, don't be afraid, kid, we're the good guys."

"Then what the hell do you want with my brother?" Dean demanded and Sammy tensed in his hiding spot, wondering the same thing.

"Hate to break it to you, but your baby brother in an abomination," he shrugged. "We need to take care of the problem."

"He's just a kid!" Dean snapped, his face growing hot with fear and anger.

"Yeah, now," the second man hissed, "but give it time, and you'll see."

Suddenly the first man lunged forward, knocking the gun out of Dean's shaking hands. "No!" Dean snapped as he tried to shove him away from the door. The man however was stronger and quicker and he backhanded him hard across the face, sending him crashing into the wall where he fell to the floor in a heap.

Sammy had to cover his mouth with both hands to keep from crying out. Blood trickled down Dean's forehead and nose as he lay there stunned a moment. The men advanced on the bathroom door, knocking on it.

"Hey kid, don't be afraid," the second man said, trying the handle and finding it locked. "We just want to talk to you."

While the men had their back turned to Dean he made eye contact with Sammy and flicked his eyes towards the motel room door where it was wide open, broken on it's hinges.

Go. He mouthed. Sammy shook his head and Dean gave him a glare before his expression softened and he winked with a reassuring smirk, tilting his head slightly towards the broken door. Quietly Sammy shuffled forward, still concealed under the bed but moving closer to the door. Dean relaxed and sat up, rubbing his head with a wince and slowly worked to climb to his feet.

"Break down the door," the first man said as they gathered around the bathroom door.

"NO!" Dean screamed launching himself on the man, jumping on his back and pounding on his back ferociously. The other one grabbed his wrist and yanked him off, twisting his arm with an audible crack. Dean howled in pain as he was once again thrown aside to smash against the end table beside the bed, landing within arms reach of Sammy's hiding spot. This time when he hit the floor, he didn't move. His eyes opened briefly before they fluttered closed. Sammy froze in place, staring at his unconscious brother in shock, unable to move. The path to safety was clear—Dean made sure of that—yet he couldn't leave, not while Dean was hurt and unable to escape himself.

The man kicked down the bathroom door and stepped inside, looking around, "Come out, come out you little demon," he sang mockingly. He whirled around in anger, "He's not in here!"

The other one furiously turned his attention back to Dean who was beginning to rouse, "Where the hell is he you little punk?"

Dean blinked heavily, clutching his injured arm, his face contorted in pain. "Not here."

One of the men knelt over Dean, clutching the collar of his shirt, lifting him and twirled around, slamming him against the opposite wall, as the other looked in the closet for Sammy. Dean glared daggers at the man, and Sammy felt oddly reassured by the fearless look on his brother's face. He swallowed hard and moved out of his hiding place to run out the door like he realized he should have done when Dean had them properly distracted. Maybe then he could get help.

Just as he was about to roll from his hiding place and make a run for it, he caught Dean's eyes which was a big mistake. The man holding Dean caught the movement and spun around. "There!"

Sammy screamed and tried to bolt but the other man was faster and caught up to him quickly. He grabbed Sammy's shirt and lifted, throwing him onto the bed as Dean struggled to free himself and help him.

"Leave him alone!" Dean screamed, "He's just a kid! He didn't do anything to you or anyone!"

"Yet," the man snarled, he lifted his gun aiming at Sammy. Dean's eyes widened and he kicked his captor where the sun don't shine and dived at the man who would be Sammy's assassin, grabbing for the gun. The gun fired just as he reached him, ruining his aim and driving the bullet into the ceiling. Sammy screamed as drywall rained upon him and Dean stomped on the bad man's foot.

"You can't have him!" Dean hissed. The man grabbed his injured arm and he let out a desperate scream of pain before he was flung to the side where the other one caught him and slammed him against the wall, holding him by the throat.

Sammy could hear his brother choking and struggling but his eyes were fixed on the barrel of the gun. "You don't understand," the man with the gun explained coldly, "He's a monster." He clicked the safety and Sammy squeezed his eyes shut anticipating the shot. He screamed when he heard the gunfire, but the pain never came. Instead he felt something splatter onto his face and heard a thump just as a booming voice filled the room.

"Stay the hell away from my sons!"

"Daddy!" Sammy cried out in relief, opening his eyes to look at his father who had his gun trained on the other man who was still holding Dean, using him as a shield. He glanced at the floor and saw the one who wanted to shoot him, lying in a heap with a hole in his back. He looked back at his father in pure, wide-eyed shock and then at Dean who was in a chokehold, still struggling to breathe.

"Let him go," Dad demanded, his tone threatening and fierce, like when Sammy did something bad and needed a time out, but worse. Much worse.

"You know Winchester, I looked up to you once," the man said, shaking Dean who gasped and weakly tried to break free, "you're famous for not letting any evil sonuvabitch get away, I admired that. You were tough, fearless, merciless…but I can see now that you're weak."

He aimed his weapon at Sammy and held it there.

"I don't know what you're talking about or why someone like you would go after my children!" Dad snapped back, cocking his gun and aiming at the man, but he just shifted Dean, placing him in the line of fire, stilling Dad's hand.

"You know what he is, John, you're just too blind to see it because it's your own son!"

Dad growled in anger, moving his aim, but he just kept shifting Dean so he was in the way yet still managed to fix his aim on Sammy who remained frozen in place, terrified, "Really John? You really want to risk killing your normal, human son?"

"Dad…" Dean gagged, struggling to remain conscious as the man gripped him tighter around the neck, "He's gonna… kill Sammy…don't…let him…" the man squeezed tighter around Dean's throat and Dean's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he made a strange gurgling sound. His eyes fluttered before opening to stare at Sammy who watched him wide-eyed with fear, seeking the reassurance in Dean's eyes, trying not to pay attention to the gun trained on him.

"You make one move with that trigger, I'll shoot. Want to see who's the faster draw Johnny?" the man taunted, shaking Dean some more, "you want to risk both your sons?"

"D-dad…" Dean choked, his eyes moving to Dad.

"Sammy," Dad ordered, "close your eyes."

Sammy did as he was told, but he peeked after a second just as Dad fired. The bullet hit the man in the side just as he fired his weapon at Sammy, but the bad man's aim went wide, and Sammy screamed as it pierced the mattress a few feet from his head. The man collapsed, dragging Dean with him, yelling in pain. Dad fired a second shot and the man went still.

"Sammy, are you hurt?" Dad asked, not taking his eyes off of Dean who was partially buried under the body of his captor. Dean wasn't moving.

"I don't think so…"

"Dean?"

There was no answer.

"Dean," Dad's voice got that stern quality to it that always had Dean standing to attention. "Are you hurt?"

Dean coughed and said something unintelligible. He was shaking, like he was sick again, or cold.

"Well?"

He shook his head, slowly climbing to his feet, clutching his injured arm. His face was covered in blood that fell from a gash on his forehead, there was blood dripping from his nose and there was congealing blood on a cut on his bruising cheek and split lip and his face where is wasn't bloody or bruised was white, like snow. "Where were you?" he asked in a broken whisper, staring at their father with wide, wet eyes, "We were waiting and waiting and…I didn't know where you were or if something happened to you…" he bit his trembling lip as though he said too much and Dad frowned.

"I…I got held up," he said. "What happened? How'd those guys find you?"

Dean gaped at him incredulously but didn't answer. Instead his eyes sought out Sammy's and he took a few steps towards him, limping slightly, "A-are you OK Sammy?"

Sammy shook his head and Dean held his uninjured arm out in an inviting gesture and Sammy ran to him sobbing, "I was so scared!" he cried.

"Shh, it's OK Sammy, it's OK now. You're safe now," Dean murmured, stroking his back in comfort, his voice hoarse. He leaned back and wiped blood off Sammy's face, visibly relaxing when he saw that the blood wasn't Sammy's.

"Dean, take Sammy to the car while I gather our things," Dad said, "We're leaving."

"What about…?" Sammy gestured to the bad men.

"Don't worry about them, they won't hurt you ever again," Dad said, giving Dean a pat on the back before grabbing the duffels. "Go," he said, "We don't have a lot of time."

Dean led Sammy to the impala where Sammy sobbed into Dean's shoulder, trembling from fear, "It's OK, Sammy, it's OK," he soothed, hissing in pain when Sammy accidentally jarred his injured arm. Sammy looked at him, a bewildered, silent apology in his eyes and Dean smiled tightly, "I'm OK."

"Did Daddy kill the bad men?"

Dean hesitated, "I…I don't know."

"Why did they want to kill me?"

"I don't know," he murmured.

"They said I was a monster," Sammy whimpered.

"They were lying. They were the monsters," Dean said angrily, "but it's over now. You don't have…you don't have to worry about them ever again." He blinked sluggishly, settling into his seat and closing his eyes in exhaustion, "Don't need to worry…about them…or anyone."

"But what if…?"

Dean opened his eyes and smirked, "Hey, if anyone wants to get to you? They'll have to go through me, and as long as I'm around… I ain't gonna let anyone hurt you."

"But what if you're not here?" Sammy asked, taking in the blood and bruising on his pale face and the way he held his arm protectively.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Dean wrapped his good arm around him and held him as Dad climbed in. He checked on them to make sure they were both OK, handed Dean a towel to put on his bleeding head and sped off into the night.

0-0-0

"Sammy? Are you all right?" Mrs. Brewer asked, kneeling next to the two boys so she was at eye level. "Where'd you go?"

Sammy blinked at her and then Jeremy, feeling a slight tremble of fear as he remembered that night. It was the scariest thing he'd ever been through, and just thinking about it caused his breath to hitch in fear. "Um… yeah. I… I was just…." He breathed a sigh—the bad men weren't coming after him and Dean again.

"He was asking about what mommy's do," Jeremy said, "and then he just spaced out."

"Sorry," Sammy mumbled.

"Hey," Mrs. Brewer said, "It's OK, Sammy."

"Mrs. Brewer?"

"Yes?"

"Mom's always take care of their kids, don't they?" Sammy asked, but it sounded more like a statement than a question.

"That's right," she smiled, but she looked a little sad. "My mother always put my needs before her own…you don't have a mother, but…is there anyone who you takes care of you like that?"

Sammy smiled, "Yeah."

With that he grabbed a green crayon and began to draw.

A/N While I consider this complete as it stands now, there's an epilogue/follow up to this that I'll probably post on Mother's Day I was going to post it all in one go but to be honest I'm still trying to tweak it and I'm anxious to get this up. Anyway, thanks for reading! As always, please let me know what you think! Reviews feed the muse and she's starving! Have a wonderful day y'all!