A/N: Just a quick little drabble/oneshot! Not my first. I have another account, but decided to post this one here! So, enjoy and review.
"Dean! Dean, are you awake?" A seven-year-old Sam shook is older brother, and he immediately snapped up, ready for to fight. His hand automatically reached for the gun he kept under his pillow, but stopped when he realized it was only Sam.
"What is it, Sammy?" he asked, slightly annoyed hen he realized there was no imminent danger. His little brother had probably just had another nightmare. He had those quite frequently, and Dean didn't really like to hear about them. "Was it another nightmare?" The little brunette nodded, fear in his eyes. The older brother sighed, patting the side of his motel bed to signal that Sam could sit down next to him. He felt the bed dip slightly as the younger brother climbed up, while Dean scanned the room, making sure that the salt around the door and windows was still safely in place, protecting them from the evil that little Sam was still oblivious to.
"What was it about this time?" Dean questioned in a monotone voice, not really caring. He already knew what it had been about. It was always about the same thing, every night. Over and over again.
"Monsters," Sam whispered, looking around the room as he did so as if he were afraid that just speaking the word would somehow summon the nasty beasts to his room. "Monsters, Dean. They were chasing me! And – and I wasn't fast enough! And –" Dean put a hand over his brother's mouth, silencing him.
"Sam, monsters aren't real," he said, lying through his teeth. He was good at it by now, too. He sometimes wondered how he could sound so convincing when he knew the truth. That monsters actually did exist, and so much more. Ghosts, demons, witches, werewolves, vampires….
"Can't you check under my bed one more time?" Sam asked fearfully, just like any other little kid would. That was all he was. A little kid, asking an innocent enough question for his age. If only he knew everything that was really out there.
"No, Sam. Go back to sleep. Nothing will get you," he promised, once again scanning over the windows and doors as he said it. The salt was still there. Good.
"I want dad," Sam complained, looking up at the blonde. "How come he's never here when we need him, Dean? He's always disappearing." Dean sent his brother a cold glare.
"Don't you talk about dad like that!" he said heatedly. "He wants to be here, Sam. But you know he's on a hunting trip."
"How is hunting more important than us?" he whined, not understanding the true importance of it.
"It just is, Sam! Alright? Stop asking so many questions and just go back to sleep!"
Sam cast one last afraid look at his brother before sliding onto the floor, quickly checking under the bed himself. Nothing there, just like Dean had said. Feeling a little better, he crawled back into his own bed and pulled the covers back over him, lying back down. A few minutes passed in silence before Sam's voice rang out once more. "Dean?" he whispered.
"What, Sam?" There was another beat of silence before he answered.
"I love you."
"I love you to, Sammy. Go to sleep."