Tag Archives: Wee!Chesters

Stay That Way

This is this years’ Christmas/holiday fic.

On Dec. 14th I will be uploading a New Years fic, and then the last post of the year on the following Monday. (Dec. 17th) I will then take a two week vacation from posting, and will return in January! (I’ll explain more in the post on Dec. 17th)


Wee!Chesters

Words: 2,111


“… What are you doing?”

“Uhm…” Sammy’s eyes went to the ground, cheeks flaring, “nothing.”

“Nothing?” Bobbys’ eyebrows went up, “That’s an awfully loud nothing,” his eyes drifted to the lump under the covers on the bed, “a pretty big lump, too.”

The kid swallowed thickly, eyes darting to the lump before back to the father-figure standing in the doorway, “W-what lump?”

Bobby chuckled, holding up his hands, “Okay, okay. Well you just let me know if you need any help with that nothing.”

“… Okay.”

Bobby re-closed the bedroom door, shaking his head as he made his way down the stairs, what is that boy up to? He went out to the backyard, picking up the paint spray gun and mask, just down burn down the house.

 

 

Bobby awoke startled, hearing a loud crash from the kitchen, what in the hell…? He was out of his chair in an instant, stalking his way over to the kitchen doors, hand on his gun, mentally running through the salt-line check he’d done before falling asleep.

He opened the door and sighed in relief as he saw the five-year old jump up from the floor.

“Jesus, Boy, you almost gave me a heart attack,” he leaned himself against the door, eyes roaming over the flour-covered counter, “Whatcha doing, Sammy?”

The brunette swallowed thickly and ‘hid’ a cookie sheet behind his back, eyes threatening to spill over with tears, “… Nothing,” at the mans’ eyebrow raise he sighed in defeat, bottom lip poking out, “I-I’ll clean it up…”

“Clean up?” Bobby craned his neck a bit so he could see over the counter and noted the un-cooked cookies that littered the floor, “Now why would you do that?”

Sammy blinked in surprise as Bobby got an apron out of the closet, “… What?”

Bobby’s heart broke, John what the hell have you done to this boy? He took the cookie sheet from the child and placed it on the counter, before winking, grabbing the mixing bowl, “We can’t let you destroy the kitchen for nothing.”

 

 

“Wow,” Sammy was practically laying on the counter, watching the cookies cool on a wire rack.

Bobby chuckled as he washed the last of the dishes, “You’d think you’d never seen a cookie before.”

“I’ve seen cookies,” he rolled his eyes, “I just can’t believe I made these!”

“Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?”

“I know you helped but still…” he reached out to touch one, recoiling as it burnt his finger, “These look like real cookies. Like the ones you get at a store!” He turned to the older man, “I can’t believe we turned eggs and milk and all that stuff into these! It’s like magic!”

Bobby did his best to hold in his laughter, “Yeah, cooking is pretty cool.”

“Definitely,” he tilted his head a bit to the side, “… can making cookies be a job?”

“Yep,” Bobby leaned against the counter, taking a swig from his beer, “They’re called bakers.”

“Really?” his eyes went wide and he gave a thousand-watt smile, “That’s so cool! Do you think…” he bit his lip and averted his eyes, smile fading, “Do you think I could do that?”

“’Course.”

“But won’t Dad-”

“It doesn’t matter what John says,” he narrowly stopped himself from hitting the counter, “I mean,” he took a deep breath, “you should do whatever you want to do. Don’t worry if John doesn’t understand. Do what makes you happy.”

Sammy nodded before turning back to the cookies, “I want to make these every day!”

Bobby smiled, going over to ruffle his hair, “Then you do that.”

Just then, the boys heard a rumble from outside, the Impala.

Sammys’ face lit up again and he practically jumped off the counter, running to the front door, “They’re back!”

The brunette sped to the front hall before – much to Bobbys’ surprise – bee lining for the stairs, bedroom door slamming shut. Bobby looked after him for a moment before shaking his head as the front door opened, John bursting in, Dean in his arms.

That can’t be good, Bobby went to the kitchen, fetching the first aid kit, coming back as John placed Dean down on the couch. His face was set in a scowl, and he was covered head to toe in a mix of dirt and blood. Dean had a deep gash across his head that was oozing blood, glad Sammy decided to go upstairs.

“What happened?”

John shook his head, “He didn’t want to list-”

“John,” Bobby shot him a look as he pushed him away, kneeling down and beginning to clean the boys’ wound.

John let out a breath, running a hand through his hair as he began pacing, eyes on the ground, “I told him not to go after it.”

“That’s great,” Bobby pushed the gauze harder against the wound, not liking that Dean didn’t even flinch, “What else?”

“What does it look like?” Johns’ hands balled into fists at his side, “The thing flung him halfway across the room, he only stopped cause he hit a wall. Head collided with the corner of a table on the way down.”

Bobby closed his eyes and grit his teeth, “He needs to go to the hospital.”

“No.”

“John-”

“I said no!”

“Do you want him to die?” Bobby stood, turning angry eyes on the other man, “Cause that’s what’s gonna happen if he stays here.”

John blinked in mild surprise, “You can’t stitch it?”

“He’s unconscious.”

John took a step toward him, getting close enough Bobby could smell the whisky on his breath, “Can. You. Stitch. It?”

Bobby used all the strength he had to not punch him in the face, “No.”

“Fuck,” John blew out a breath, eyeing his son, taking a small step back, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Go to the hospital.”

“We can’t.”

“Why?”

“I’m still wanted for that skin-walker job, remember?”

Bobby grit his teeth, closing his eyes for a moment to think, “Fine. I’ll take him, you stay here with Sammy.”

John paled a bit at the mention of his other son but nodded. He watched as Bobby picked Dean up off the couch, helping to load him into the truck. Bobby hopped in before giving John a death glare, “Do not tell him about this.”

 

 

“Seriously, Bobby, I’m fine,” Dean swatted at his arm as he was easing himself out of the truck.

“Oh yeah, you pass out from blood loss and get a concussion every day,” the older man gave him a pointed look and kept his arms out for support.

“Pfft, you know what hunting’s like,” Dean successfully stood on the ground, and blinked, swaying slightly on the spot, “It’s always dangerous.”

“You’re not your father, Dean,” Bobby shut the truck door and trailed behind the blonde as they made their way to the front door, “also, you’re nine.”

“Exactly,” He climbed the steps, leaning heavily against the banister, “Time for me to grow up.”

Bobby rolled his eyes and unlocked the door, holding it open for the blonde, not surprised to see John was no longer in the living room, big surprise.

“Dean!”

A mess of brown hair launched itself at the blonde, nearly knocking him over. He caught Sammy easily, plastering a smile on his face, but Bobby didn’t miss the flash of dizziness.

“Wha-? Who’s this?” he brushed some of the hair from his brothers’ eyes, “Oh, Sammy! There you are!”

The youngest giggled and Bobby was amazed at how quickly the elder could switch into Big Brother Mode. He began walking them over to the couch, “So, Sammy, what have you been up to?”

The youngest looked like he was going to explode, “I made you something!” his expression fell as he noticed the bandage on the blondes’ head, “What happened?”

“Eh,” Dean waved a dismissive hand, “I’m fine. What did you make me? Is it…” he looked around the room, pretending to think, “A Tickle Monster?” he then threw the five-year-old onto the couch before all but tackling him, tickling his stomach.

The youngest let out a loud squeal, doing his best to wiggle away. John came out of the kitchen at the yell, and Bobby was mildly surprised to see he had showered. He hung back as he saw what was happening. The eldest Winchester leaned against the doorway next to Bobby, small smile on his face.

Sammy began gasping for breath after a few minutes, face going red.

“Dean.”

At the sound of his fathers’ voice, Dean immediately stopped, smile fading and he practically jumped up from the couch, puffing his chest out. A soldier ready for duty. Sammys’ gasps had also died down, eyes going straight to the floor, as if he were ashamed.

“Sammy,” Bobby nodded toward the kitchen, “why don’t you go get what you made Dean?”

He nodded, smile reappearing before zooming back up the stairs.

Dean turned confused eyes to the other men, “What is it?”

Bobby shrugged, “Last time I saw it, it was a giant lump under the covers.”

A small smile graced Deans’ face, and his cheeks flushed.

They saw the youngest stop at the top of the stairs, whatever it was carefully hidden behind his back, “Close your eyes!”

Dean rolled his eyes before closing them, “Okay! They’re closed!”

“I don’t believe you!”

Dean huffed, before opening them, giving Bobby and his father a look, “Little help?”

Bobby smirked, giving him a pointed look, “Well?” the blonde re-closed his eyes, “They’re closed, Sammy!”

The men watched as the youngest did his best to walk down the stairs without holding onto the hand rail. Whatever he made was big enough it needed his two hands to carry. He got to the bottom and carefully walked himself over, bringing the gift – that was carefully wrapped in red and white Christmas paper – out from behind his back.

“Hold out your hands,” upon doing so he placed the present in them, and chuckled as Deans’ arms fell a few inches, pretending it was heavy, “Okay, open.”

The blonde opened his eyes and let out a whistle, “You wrapped this?”

“Mhm,” Sammy was beaming, bouncing slightly where he stood, “Open it! Open it! Open it!”

“Okay, okay, geez,” Dean made his way back over to the couch, placing the present down on the coffee table.

He began unwrapping it slowly, brows knit together wondering what could be so heavy, before revealing a cardboard box.

He turned to his brother, “Wow, Sammy, it’s uhm…”

The youngest rolled his eyes, giving his brother a slight push, “It’s in the box, Dean.”

“Oh, right. I knew that.”

The blonde took his switch blade off his belt to open the box, prying the top open and peering inside, before letting out a small gasp. He reached into the box carefully, pulling out what looked to be a Lego version of their fathers’ Impala.

He turned his eyes to his brother, “What…? How did you…?”

“I built it!” Sammy was bouncing up and down, “I took all the black Legos I had from my other sets and built it,” he flung his arms around his brother, “Now you have one, too!”

“I can’t believe this…” Deans’ eyes drifted back down to the present he was holding, face stunned, “This is… amazing, thank-you.”

“Is that what you were doing up in your room all week?”

The youngest gave Bobby a nod before turning back to his brother, “You like it?”

“I love it,” Dean held the car up to his face, inspecting it, “You even got the license plate right!”

“Good job, Sammy,” Bobby went to sit on the arm of the couch, “Now that kitchen mess makes more sense.”

“Oh!” Sammy smacked his head, before running into the kitchen, “I forgot the best part!”

Dean starred after him, “There’s more?”

Bobby winked, “I helped with this part.”

The youngest returned a moment later with the cookies he and Bobby had made, placing the plate down on the table next to the car.

Dean looked over the cookies and chuckled, “Are these supposed to be us?”

Sammy nodded his head excitedly before removing one of the door Legos from the side of the car, placing one of the cookies into the driver side, “Look! They fit inside, too!”

“Wow, Sammy, that’s so cool!” Dean wrapped his brother up in a bear hug, “You’re one smart kid, y’know that?”

“I know!”

“This is great, Sammy,” he turned his eyes to the plate of cookies, eyes widening slightly, “I just have one question.”

“What?”

His stomach grumbled then, as if on cue, “Does that mean I can’t eat the cookies?”


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Candy Coma

Words: 1,122

Wee!Chesters


“You can not where that.”

Sammys’ face fell, and he took the dollar store fangs out of his mouth, “B-but why?”

“Pfft, what do you mean why? Because we-” Dean caught himself. He took a moment, raking his brain for an acceptable excuse, and gestured vaguely at the costume, “It’s… y’know…”

The youngest frowned and looked down at himself, hands tightening into fists around the cape, “It’s the only costume we have.”

“Sorry, Sammy, it’s just…,” he strode a few paces to one of the beds, trying to swallow down the guilt he was feeling, “Dad would freak if he saw it.”

“Why?”

The blonde flopped himself down, starring at the ceiling while letting out a heavy sigh, “Cause, Sammy he just…” how am I supposed to explain this without telling him? “… doesn’t like Halloween.”

“But why?”

“Because he just doesn’t, okay?” Dean waved a dismissive hand toward his brother, “Now, go… do whatever it is you do.”

His brother cast his gaze to the floor, hands wrapping the cape tighter around himself, “But you said we could go Trick Or Treating.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, tugging on it, damn it, “I don’t know if I want to go. I’m tired.”

“… You said we could finally go this year.”

“I know, and now I’m saying I don’t wanna,” he paused, lifting his head to look at his brother, “It’s not like the people here will have candy, anyway.”

“But… but,” the disappointment in his brothers’ voice pulled at his heart strings, “You promised!”

Dean shook his head, flopping it back against the pillow, “I know I promised, but things change,” he sat up, “Did you really think Dad was gonna let you go anyway?”

The youngests’ eyes were brimming with tears, bottom lip quivering. His brows creased in anger, hands falling away from his cape, before he stamped his foot, “Fine!” and made a beeline for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Dean rolled his eyes and got off the bed, padding over to the bathroom, “C’mon, Sammy, don’t be like that.”

“Go away!”

“Sammy-”

“Leave me alone!”

Dean crossed his arms, leaning against the wall next to the door, “What’s your plan here, exactly? Lock yourself in the bathroom and miss Halloween altogether?”

“… It doesn’t matter!”

The blonde closed his eyes and failed to swallow the lump in his throat at his brothers’ tone – it was obvious he was crying. He sighed before turning his eyes to the clock, 7:30pm, he knocked softly on the door, “Dude, if you don’t come out of there you are gonna miss it. It’s already seven-thirty.”

“I don’t care!”

Dean huffed in annoyance, “Fine! Stay in there all night, then! See if I care! But when Dad gets back, you’re gonna have to explain to him that I stayed behind and we didn’t end up going out!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” The blonde stomped away from the bathroom, grabbing his coat off the bed, “If you’re just gonna stay in there all night,” he stomped to the motel door, hand on the knob, “then I’m gonna go out and have some fun! Alone!

 

 

Stupid Sammy, Dean kicked at a rock as he walked down the street, why does he have to be such a brat all the time? He crossed the street, taking out a cigarette, and lighting up, he should’ve known- Deans’ head whipped up as he heard the familiar rumble of the Impala, shit, he stamped out the cigarette as the car came into view.

He turned on his heel and ran as fast as he could back to the motel, praying to whoever was up there that he’d be able to beat his father home.

 

 

“Sammy?” Dean burst through the door, thanking his lucky stars his dad stopped at that convenience store, eyes immediately scanning the place for the mop of messy brown hair. “Sammy?” His heartbeat was in his throat as he searched the small room, not finding his brother. Shit-shit-shit-shit, where would he be? He knows better then to go out alone.

He surveyed the area, making sure his brother wasn’t there, before turning back to the door, surprised to hear a key in the lock. Damn, that was fast. What the hell am I supposed to tell Dad? He backed up a few steps, stealing himself against the giant as the door opened.

“Sammy?”

The brunette beamed at his brother, struggling with a large pillow case, that was practically overflowing with candy, “Look, Dean! I got so much!”

“That, uh, that’s great, Buddy,” Dean eyed the pillow case, eyebrows shooting up as he saw full-sized chocolates, “Where did you get these?”

His brother dumped the candy out over one of the beds, not looking up, “Here.”

“Here?” Dean was confused, he didn’t think people at the motel would’ve had candy.

Sammy shrugged without looking up, “Yeah, they felt bad because I had to go Trick or Treating alone… and since a lot of them didn’t think they’d get kids here, they had to give me candy out of the vending machine.”

You clever little… Dean whistled, impressed with his brother. He went over to the bed, looking over everything he’d got, “You’re one smart kid, you know that?”

Sammys’ grin widened as he climbed on the bed, beginning to sort out his candy, “I know.” Dean reached for one and was surprised when his brother slapped his hand away. At the look he gave him, the brunette shrugged, “You didn’t come with me, you don’t get any.”

“Wha-?” Dean eyed the pile, going to sit on the edge of the bed, “You can’t seriously- ”

Just then, John burst through the door, looking pissed. He was almost caked in mud from head to toe. He sighed heavily as he kicked the door closed, carefully taking his jacket off. He kicked off his boots before glancing at the boys, eyes widening as he saw his youngests’ spoils.

“Wow, Sammy, you did good tonight, huh?” John glanced at the other bed, pausing, “Dean… you didn’t get any candy?”

Dean shrugged, trying to calm his beating heart, “I’m too old for that, Dad.”

“Oh…” John gave a half smile before moving to the bathroom, turning the shower on.

“Can’t I just have one?” Dean leaned over the bed, doing his best puppy-dog eyes.

“Hmm,” his brother brought a hand to his chin, pretending to think, “Nope.”

“Dude, c’mon. There’s no way you can eat all that by yourself.”

Sammy picked up one of the bigger chocolate bars, not breaking eye contact with his brother as he took his time taking the wrapper off, bringing it to his lips, mischievous grin on his face, “Watch me.”


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Friggin’ Siblings

Wee!Chesters

Words: 851


Sammy shrieked and pulled his t-shirt down over his privates as his brother burst into the bathroom, “Dean!”

“Sorry Sammy, but I just ran a whole mile and need to shower,” the blonde hopped around the small room in front of the tub, struggling to get his pants off.

“But I’m already in here!”

“I have to shower before Dad gets back, I get to help him on a hunt today,” he threw his pants behind him as he jumped in the tub.

Sammy growled as they landed on his head, this isn’t fair. He got off the toilet and washed his hands, before leaving the bathroom. Stupid Dean, he climbed up on his bed and took out a book, ‘I get to help on hunt’ ugh. He couldn’t of waited five more seconds? He begrudgingly started reading. He heard his brother start singing at the top of his lungs. He made a face, before struggling off the bed, padding over to pound on the wall.

“Dean!”

His brother just started singing louder, dang it. Sam huffed, before going back to the bed, are all brothers’ this annoying? Or did I get a special one? He starred at the wall, trying to think of a way he could get even with his brother.

Just then, their dad came in, he strode over to the first bed, gruffly throwing his duffle down, while sliding another out from under it.

“Where’s your brother?” He threw a few different things back and forth between bags, not bothering to look up.”

“H-he’s in the shower,” Sammy watched his father in part fascination, part worry.

John zipped one of the bags closed before tossing the other one back to the floor, kicking it back under the bed.

“Is everything okay?” Sammy couldn’t tell if his dad was scared or pissed.

The eldest wretched the door open, pausing a moment to finally look at his son, “I leave in five minutes.”

With that, he was gone. Sammy blinked, did he want me to tell him? His eyes drifted back to the bathroom door, Dean did want to go… Sammy sat on the bed, torn. On the one hand, Dean seemed really excited to go on a hunt, on the other, hunting was dangerous. Sammy had seen how badly some hunts could go, and it was more often then not that they both had to play nurse to John afterward. He didn’t even say what he was hunting… His eyes flicked up to the clock on the wall. He sighed before getting back off the bed, knocking on the door.

“Don’t tell me you have to go again already!”

“No, Dean, I-”

“You really need to get that looked at!”

“Dean, stop, I’m-”

“Maybe when dad gets back he can take you to the doctor. That is not natural!”

Sammys’ hands balled into fists at his sides, “Dean!

He stormed back into the bathroom, giving the shower curtain a death-glare.

“Sammy, what the hell?” A bottle of shampoo came flying out from behind the curtain, “Get out!”

“No! I-” The youngest cut himself off as the shampoo landed in the toilet, giving him an idea.

I know how to get him out. His face twisted into an evil smile and he tried to hold back his laughter.

“Seriously, dude, what the hell?”

“Sorry Dean,” he did his best to hide the giggles he felt, his fingers sliding down to the toilet handle, “I just forgot something.”

“Forgot something?” The blonde poked his head out from behind the curtain, taking in his brother and where his hand was placed, eyes going wide, “Don’t you dare!”

“Oops!” Sammy pushed as hard as he could down on the handle, before walking back out to the room with his chest puffed, grinning ear to ear at hearing his brothers’ scream.

“I’m so gonna get you for that!”

Sammy climbed back up on the bed, sliding his book back into his lap as he heard the water turn off. A second later, his brother came storming out, towel wrapped around his waist, eyes nearly slits. He looked up from his book as if nothing happened, “Oh, hi Dean.”

The blonde grit his teeth and started toward him, when John came back through the door. He gave his eldest a once over before rolling his eyes, “Going on your first hunt in that?

“Uh, no, Sir, I uh…” Deans’ eyes darted around the room and his cheeks flared.

“You have two minutes,” John all but slammed the door behind him.

Dean ran over to the bed Sammy was on, yanking his duffle out from underneath it, throwing clothes out behind him like a madman.

“Where is it? Where is it?” He dug through the duffle for a moment longer before pulling out a plain black t-shirt – that looked exactly the same as the other four that were on the floor behind him.

He dressed quickly, hopping around as he pulled on his shoes. He went over to the door, pausing in the doorway as he noticed his brother was still giggling.

“This isn’t over.”


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Patient Monsters

Written: 14.07.11

Wee!Chesters with mentions of Abusive!John.


“De, I don’ feel good.” Sammy pouted from the bed, keeping his arm around his stomach.

“I know, Sammy. I’m gonna make it better, though.” Dean replied, walking carefully over to the bed with a bowl of soup.

“Promise?” Sammy sniffed.

Dean carefully set the soup down on the bed before climbing up onto the bed himself, scooting in as close as possible to the youngest, stretching out his arm, holding out his pinky for the little one to grab.

Sammy followed his brother’s lead and stuck out his pinky too, allowing the older to wrap his around it, sealing the deal.

“Of course, Sammy. It’s my job.” Dean stated, smiling and ruffling his brother’s hair.

Sammy gave his brother a weak smile and chuckle, having it end in a fit of coughs with the elder rubbing soothing circles into his back.

“Where’s Daddy?” Sammy asked.

“He went to go get some medicine for you.” Dean replied, scooting up so he was resting against the headboard beside his brother, still holding the soup.

“Yuck.” Sammy said, pulling a face.

“C’mon Sammy, if you don’t take it you won’t get better.” Dean reasoned, sliding the soup over to his brother.

“Not hungry.” Sammy said, sliding the bowl back.

“Sammy.” Dean warned, using his ‘Dad voice’.

“De.” Sammy mimicked, scrunching his face up and pushing his bottom lip out.

“You have to eat so you’ll get better.”

“I have to do lots to get better.” Sammy stated, pointing an accusing finger to his brother.

“Not my fault you got sick. I told you eating grass was bad for you.” Dean countered, smiling.

“I don’t eat grass!” Sammy exclaimed, his eyes going wide with horror.

“No, but you do eat it’s cousin.”

“No I don’t!” Sammy replied, shaking his head furiously.

“Yeah, think about it Sammy, if they weren’t related then why are they the same colour?” Dean asked, folding his arms over his chest.

Sammy scrunched up his face in his thinking expression and was quiet for a moment, unaware that he’d picked the spoon up out of the bowl and put it in his mouth. Dean chuckled at that – Sammy wasn’t thinking unless he had some sort of object in his mouth. It went well with his giant puppy eyes and feet, Dad kept saying that Sammy would grow into his feet and be giant, taller than Dean. Dean didn’t agree with that, but you didn’t tell Dad when you didn’t agree with him – then he’d get mad and that was worse than just agreeing with him.

“I still don’t think that’s right.” Sammy finally stated around the spoon in his mouth.

He looked down his nose confused and took the spoon out of his mouth, placing it back in the bowl. Sammy’s head whipped up and over to the window, before he scrambled off the bed, knocking the soup over as he went.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean exclaimed at the mess of soup.

Dean slapped a hand over his mouth and his eyes shot wide with what he’d said, hoping for a moment that his brother didn’t hear it. He looked up to where he was and saw Sammy skid to a halt and turned around slowly, his eyes big with shock.

“You used a grown-up word.” Sammy stated, his eyes still big.

Dean just shook his head, unable to find his voice.

“You used a grown-up word.”

“N-no I didn’t.” Dean replied, still shaking his head, sliding off the bed to stand.

Dean looked up to the window as he heard the familiar rumble of Dad’s car.

Uh-oh. Dean thought.

Sam’s eyes got even bigger and he looked toward the door, no doubt frightened now that their dad was close enough for Dean to hear the car.

“Sammy, look at me.” Dean started, rushing over to his brother, holding him by his small shoulders.

Sam reluctantly looked at his older brother, not sure of how to handle this, but at the same time trusting Dean to take care of it.

“Dad won’t know what I said if we don’t tell him, right? And if Dad doesn’t know-”

“He can’t get mad.” Sammy finished, his look not changing.

“Exactly, and I know that I’m not going to tell him…” Dean baited, waiting to see if Sammy would clue in.

“I won’t tell him!” Sammy exclaimed, face going shocked that his brother would assume something like that.

Dean smiled and patted his shoulders before pointing to their bed. Sammy nodded and walked back, stopping when he reached the side to look back at his brother, his frightened expression back.

“The soup.” Sammy said, eyes getting watery.

“Sammy, it’s okay, I’ll take care of it.” Dean promised.

Sammy didn’t look too certain but hoped back onto the bed anyway, trusting his brother. Just as soon as Sammy was settled back under the blankets, the door swung open to reveal a very tired and pissed looking John, who also just so happened to smell what Sammy called ‘the bad stuff’.

“Dean, what’re you doing up?” John questioned, narrowing his eyes at his eldest.

“Watching out for Sammy.” Dean replied, automatically straightening up and puffing out his chest.

John looked toward the bed, where the youngest was pretending to sleep, so he wouldn’t have to talk to his father. When he smelled like the bad stuff, he was a lot angrier and harder to talk to, the boys had found that out the hard way.

“Sammy’s sleeping.” John stated, as if it were a question, as he raised his eyebrow at the eldest.

“He hasn’t been feeling well.” Dean reminded, opting to not say the ‘I’ve already told you’ before it – that wouldn’t end very well.

“You test him?” John asked, walking over to the youngest.

“Test him?” Dean questioned, following his father’s lead and walking closer to the bed.

“To make sure he’s still him.” John clarified, apparently annoyed at having to spell it out to his son.

“He’s not possessed Dad.” Dean answered, sitting down on the edge of his father’s bed.

“He wetting the bed again?”

“No, Sir.”

“Then why is there a giant puddle on the bed?” John demanded, spinning around to face the eldest, his face set in a snarl.

Dean visibly leaned himself back slightly, trying to get away from the monster standing in front of him.

“I, uh, I spilled the holy water, when I tested him. That’s how I know he’s not possessed.” Dean lied quickly.

“You wasted the holy water?” John shouted, pulling Dean up by the collar.

He brought his eldest close to his face, so they were only inches apart – so Dean could smell the bad stuff on his breath. Dean could feel himself shaking, despite having every vessel of his being concentrated on not showing John how weak he was. Sometimes, if he was lucky and his body listened to his brain, his dad wouldn’t hurt him, he’d leave him alone and just go right to sleep.

It didn’t seem like his body got that memo today.

John threw the kid across the motel room, sending him crashing on top of the table against the opposite wall. Dean bit his lip as he landed, trying not to cry out in pain, another lesson he learned the hard way not to do. John started toward him when Sammy whimpered from the bed, stopping John in his tracks. Dean raised his head slowly and tried to blink the water out of his eyes, so he could see his brother, instead of just a blurry brown blob poking out of the yellow sheets.

“What?” John spat, making the lump shake with fright.

John started toward his youngest now, his face no doubt twisted into one of disgust at ‘the thing that ruined their family’ as John so often stated. Dean clenched his teeth and did his best to roll off the table, landing hard on his back, but sighed a slight sigh of relief as it’d diverted John’s angry attention back toward himself. He shakily got to his feet, keeping himself steady with one hand on the table, the other wrapped around his middle in pain.

“Embrace the pain Dean, be a man!” John yelled, walking toward the mentioned.

“J-just close your eyes, Sammy. I-it’ll be okay.” Dean ground out, wincing as the movement sent a flare of pain up into his jaw.

Dean saw the mess of brown hair disappear under the yellow sheets and felt himself relax slightly now that he knew Sammy wouldn’t be watching. That kid did not need anything else to think about in that giant head of his. John was now standing about a foot in front of the oldest, looking down at him as if he wanted to eat him. Some days, Dean didn’t think he would do that, sure his dad was tough, but he’d never eat somebody.

Other days, (days much like this) he had trouble convincing himself of that.

“Did you get Sammy’s medicine?” Dean asked, looking the monster right in his blood shot eyes.

“Sammy’s medicine?” John repeated, looking confused, instead of angry.

It’s really the little things that made Dean’s day.

“You said you’d get him some before you left.” Dean stated, looking expectantly at his father.

“He needs medicine?” John mumbled, looking down at the carpet, more to himself than his son.

“Yeah, Dad, I’d told you at least five times before you left.” Dean continued, feeling himself starting to get angry.

John looked back to the bed holding the mentioned for a moment before looking back and looking desperate.

“I- I didn’t think…” He breathed, as if trying to work through everything for the first time.

“Yeah well you should’ve Dad. Jesus, you promised!” Dean exclaimed, crossing his arms and glaring at the man before him.

John’s eyes got big as if he’d just remembered what he’d said and he fell to his knees in front of his son, reaching out for him, eyes desperate and pleading.

“I-I’ll go now. I’ll go get him some now.” John bargained, voice raised an octave.

“You can drive like this?” Dean questioned.

Even though he’d said ‘like this’ he knew his Dad heard ‘this drunk’ instead.

John nodded his head fervently, wild eyes seeking out the hardened gaze of his oldest.

“Ten minutes.”

Before the last syllable was out of his mouth, John had gotten up and rushed out the door, starting the Impala in record time, no doubt leaving tire marks from stepping on the gas so hard before speeding away.

Dean let out a breath and deflated as he heard the rumble of the car fade, he could once again relax. He flicked his eyes up to the bed and walked up to it as he heard soft sniffling noises.

“Sammy?” Dean asked softly, laying a hand on part of the lump under the covers, to what he really hoped was his brother’s leg.

The mess of brown hair popped out from the yellow and turned toward the direction of the voice. There was a shake of it and then two giant hazel eyes could be seen between the hairs.

“You okay?” Sammy asked, voice barely audible.

“Course I’m okay.” Dean replied, smiling brightly at him.

Dean climbed up onto the bed and pulled his brother carefully out from under the blankets. The second he was freed from the yellow cocoon he latched his arms around his brother’s neck and buried his face into his chest, trying not to cry.

“It’s okay Sammy.” Dean cooed, rubbing circles into his back.

“He still hates me.” Sammy cried, letting his tears fall.

“No, Sammy, he doesn’t hate you. He just…” Dean trailed off, trying to find the right words.

“Doesn’t want me anymore.” Sammy mumbled into his chest.

“Sammy c’mon, you know that’s not true. He loves you.” Dean said, nuzzling his cheek onto the top of his head.

“He loves you.”

“No he doesn’t.”

“He does.”

“Uh-uh.”

“Sammy.”

“De.”

Sammy started laughing as his brother started tickling him, not liking how sad he was. Soon, Sam was rolling around on the bedspread, face red from the effort of laughing so hard. Dean was smiling too, glad that he managed to cheer up his brother, and also glad that his Dad still wasn’t back yet.

“De, s-stop!” Sammy squealed, rolling around trying to get away from his hands.

“Alright, alright.” Dean agreed, before falling down onto the bed beside his brother.

Sam looked at him curiously before scooting toward him until their foreheads were touching.

“You can go to sleep now Sammy.” Dean said, his voice soft.

Sam shook his head, shaking his hair into his face.

“It’ll be okay Sammy, I’ll protect you. I promise.”

With those reassuring words, Sam allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

 

 

“C’mon Dean, you gotta eat it.” Sammy pouted, holding the spoon in front of his mouth.

Dean shook his head back and forth, not trusting his brother to not shove it into his mouth if he did open it.

“De, you gotta eat it or else you won’t get better.” Sam said, plopping the spoon down into the bowl of soup between them.

“I have to do lots of stuff to get better.” Dean replied smiling at his brother.

“It’s not my fault you got sick.” Sammy stated, sticking his tongue out.

“Yes it is! You’re the one who got me sick!” Dean exclaimed with no real heat.

Sammy smiled and reached forward, ruffling his brother’s hair much to his dislike.

“When’s Dad coming back?” Dean asked, glad that he managed to steer the conversation away from him eating.

“He said ‘soon’.” Sammy replied, doing his best John impression for the last word.

That got his brother to chuckle and ruffle Sam’s own hair. Sammy cried out but before lunging for his brother he carefully moved the soup to the bedside table.

“Don’t need a repeat.” He mumbled as he set it down before turning back to the oldest.

“Oh, c’mon Sammy, it wasn’t that bad.” Dean said.

“He hurt you De, because of me.” Sammy replied, looking down to his lap.

“No Sammy.” Dean disagreed, his voice going hard, making his brother look up.

“Not your fault. Never your fault.”

“Okay.” Sammy agreed, nodding before watching Dean sink back down into the bed, letting out a breath.

Sammy wiggled himself right up beside his brother, their sides touching.

“Sammy, if Dad comes back-”

“Don’t you worry De. I’ll take of it.” Sammy stated.

“But Sammy what if-”

“I promise. Just go to sleep.” Sammy replied, cutting his brother off.

Sam waited up until he felt Dean’s breathes even out, letting him know he’d fallen asleep himself, keeping his eyes on the door as he pet Dean’s hair.

“I’ll protect you.”


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