"Come on Dad, lemme come with you!" Begged the 15 year old.
"No Dean, I've told you, you'd only be a threat to this mission, I can't afford you or Sam to come along with me."
"But Dad," Dean protested, "I won't be a threat, I'll help!"
"Dean, I said no, and I mean it." John said sharply.
Dean stared at his father for a moment before adverting his gaze to the wall, "Yes, sir." He mumbled unhappily.
"That's better, now I need you to stay home and help Sammy with his homework, watch him, and do your own." John started, pausing and waiting for Dean to look at him a minute.
Sammy, who had been sitting on the couch, watching the two in a slightly fearful silence now put his three cents in, "I don't need to be watched!"
"Sam, you're eleven years old, you're not old enough for me to trust you on your own." John sighed, loosing his patience with his boys.
"But you let Dean stay by himself when he was eleven… and he had to watch me then too!" The young boy complained.
"Dean is more responsible than you are, and more mature for that matter."
Sammy pouted now, knowing better than to push his luck any farther unless he wanted to be grounded again. The last time he'd been stuck in his and Dean's room for a solid week, only allowed to leave for the bathroom, meals, and school. He'd been ten then, and now he only had more energy somehow, and Dean would be the first to agree to that. When he was ten, Dean had had plenty of time to look things up for his father, maybe even read a book about werewolves or poltergeists, but now, his father did all of that while Dean followed Sam around, keeping him away from the knives, box cutters, and scissors.
For some reason, the kid was more inclined to the blades, liking to cut things with then when he could sneak one away. His fun, of course, never lasted for long. Once Dean or John noticed the hole in the couch, or scratches on the wall, or his torn up sheets, they knew he had a knife or another sharp object, and then came the fun of trying to get it away from the little bugger. He was a crafty little one, waiting until he was alone to take out his 'toy' and always hiding it carefully once he was done. Last time he'd gotten a hold of one, he'd somehow managed to keep it a secret for three weeks. He also somehow managed to hide it on top of the broken ceiling fan's blade.
"Ok Dean, keep your brother away from any sharp objects, don't play with the matches, no going over to your girlfriends house, and I don't want her over here either, your brother is still a kid, and you really don't want to be a teen parent." John said slowly as he laid down the rules of his absence.
Dean stared at his father in disbelief, he SOOO did not just say that! Ok, Dean admitted, he wasn't a virgin in some ways, he'd already had two kinds of sex, none yet involving penetration yet… except for one girls mouth, and he remembered her name too! … Sharon? Shelly?… NO! It was Shannon! … or was it Morgan?
"Ok, I'll be back in a week, and if this house is destroyed, you Dean, are in a lot of trouble, you hear me?"
"Yes sir." Dean said obediently.
"Sam, no touching the knives, box cutter, scissors, or Dean's pocket knife, that's his, and he's not even supposed to use it unless we're on a hunt." John told his youngest son, turning and staring straight into his eyes, "Understand?"
"Dean has a pocket knife!" Sam asked excitedly.
Dean and John exchanged glances then gave a sigh, "Sam, don't touch it, it's mine, I don't go messing with your things."
"You steal my knives all the time!" Sammy pouted.
"No, Sam, you steal them, I just take them back." Dean corrected.
"Well you go messing through my things to find them!"
"That's because you refuse to hand them over peacefully." Dean sighed.
"Well you're the one that wants them back!" Sam was getting desperate now.
"Sam, they're not yours, you shouldn't have them, I may have let you keep them longer if you didn't destroy the furniture with them."
Sam pouted fidgeting again, moving his leg into an obviously uncomfortable position.
Dean stared at his brother a second before walking over to him, dropping down on his knees and pushing his protesting brother's leg away to find a new place in which the poor innocent couch had been abused.
"Ok Sammy, where's the knife this time?" Dean asked.
"I'm not telling." Sam said in a sing song voice.
"Sam, tell your brother where it is." John said firmly.
"It's ok dad, you should probably go, don't want it to nab someone else." Dean sighed, standing now.
"Alright, but you'd better get that knife away from him." John said before shouldering his bags. "I'll be back in a week, you two be good, and don't skip school." He told them before exiting.
Dean waited a minute or two until his father was gone. "Sammy. Knife. Now."
Sam stuck out his tongue in a childish gesture.
The older of the two rolled his eyes, scooping his brother up and holding him on his hip, carrying him to his room before shutting the door and setting him on the floor.
"Give me the knife."
"No!" He said defiantly, feeling cocky that this knife wasn't going to get stolen… right up until Dean tackled him, pinning him to the floor.
"Yes." He grit out.
"NO!"
Dean frowned, "I don't want to do this Sammy, but you're not giving me another choice." Dean told him before flipping his brother onto his tummy and grabbing his arm, twisting it up until it almost touched his neck.
Sammy screamed in protest, squirming beneath his brother and kicking out, trying to hit him.
"Just tell me where it is, Sam!" Dean said lowly, really he hated having to do this to his baby brother, but sometimes it was the only way to get the information he needed. Usually carrying him to their room and asking nicely worked, Sammy usually gave up the information when he was sure their father wouldn't find out his new hiding spot.
"Ok, ok!" He cried out, Dean instantly released him.
Sam crawled out from under him, holding his hurting shoulder gently and sniffing a few times before going over to Dean's closet. He pushed through his assortment of junk before coming up with the butcher's knife and reluctantly handing it to his brother.
Dean took the knife and put it back in the drawer before returning to his room, his brother still sniffing and fighting tears. Dean knew he was milking it, he always did, that was probably why he stole the knives all the time, he wanted attention.
John would have told him to take it like a man and scolded him for acting so childishly, Dean on the other hand, had a soft spot for his brother. He always swore to himself that the next time Sam started crying like this, he would just tell him to get over it, tough love, but every time, he found himself comforting his brother.
He sighed, scooping him up again and carrying him back to the living room, short trip, but he knew Sam loved to be toted around, he never really got a lot of it when John was around, he'd always snap at Dean to put his brother down, and almost always refuse to give him a ride, but when he wasn't home, he would get his way.
He sat down on the couch, Sam's leg still behind him, and the other one over his lap before he squirmed around, crawling into his brother's lap and snuggling against him. Dean knew why his brother did this, or at least he had a good idea. Things weren't easy for Dean going eleven years without his mother, but Sam didn't even know her, and when he was still even smaller, 5 or 6, John would hold him like this whenever he would get upset about never knowing her, and never having a mommy. Dean somehow had taken the mommy role on for the most part, nursing his brother's wounds or staying with him when he had to stay home from school sick. Ok it also got him out of school, but still, his baby brother was sick!
Sammy eventually got over his 'that hurt!' fit and fell asleep against Dean. This was defiantly one of the only things that kept Dean from hunting, his family.
XxXxXxXxXxX
A/n: Tochi: AWE! This is like… the cutest thing I've ever written, ever!
Flap Jack: oh wow, this one was like… the funniest one to watch her write. That dreamy starry eyed look on her face, oh what I would give to see her reaction if she ever saw this!
Tochi: Leave me alone Flap Jack! –pout-
Flap Jack: -rolls eyes- This one's multi-chaptered, so review, set it on alert and stand back and get your puke buckets ready, 'cause knowing her, this was really tame! … AND JOIN MY EVIL ARMY!