This is my first Supernatural fiction, I hope you guys like it. Unfortunately, I had a lot less time to proof read this than I would have wanted to, so forgive my mistakes. I do not own anything except the crappy, sappy plot. If the kids seem a little out of character, it is because in my mind they are so young, it is hard to picture them that terribly jaded already.
THE MONSTERS OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
"So, Dad is helping the police chase the guys that did this to us?" His brother asked sitting on the couch and removing the make-shift bloody bandages that covered a great part of his body.
Dean nodded and walked towards the counter to fetch the alcohol. "The ones that are not dead, at least, and there is really no police, but yeah… they are being hunted alright." He thought, thankful for the opportunity to have his back facing his brother as he retrieved the bottle. He grimace and clenched his teeth, cursing the pain away.
Big hazel puppy dog eyes followed his movements back to the couch. "Do you think the guys that did this to us also have a family that is now sad that they are not there with them for Christmas?"
Leave it to Sammy to feel sorry for the monsters that had used him as a baby piñata. The umpteenth invisible knife of the day stabbed his skull as he tried to forget the patchwork of cuts and bruises he was cleaning- with Whiskey- and he had sown last night -without any anesthetics- belonged to his five-year-old baby brother. Sammy's eyes, mouth and nose squinched and his whole body tensed up, but no complains came out of the kid as alcohol burnt through his cuts.
His brother avoided his eyes and focused on helping him wrap his wounds. "Was I a bad boy?" The voice was small, ashamed. "That's why Santa didn't bring me any presents?" And the pain in his head was forgotten as his heart sank into the bottomless pit inside him that he was so use to ignore by now.
Fuck, if dad would be here, he would know what to answer to his little charge. Then... he remembered his first Christmas after his mother died and realized that he was probably wrong. His dad would have no idea how to deal with Sammy without breaking him. And, if he was certain of something, is was that he wasn't going to let his little brother break. Not now, not ever, if he could help it.
Thank god, his baby bro came up with answer before he could. "No, it's not that. You don't have any presents either and you are the awesomest. You are always good, to me, to dad, to everybody. Santa probably wants to cover you with presents!"
He felt the familiar burnt behind his eyes from the tears he would never shed. "We left in a hurry, and you know how great Dad is at hiding. Santa probably hasn't been able to find us yet."
"You think maybe he got confused and left the presents in the motel we were staying last night?"
"The same motel room that was probably now a crime scene and not even the inexistent Santa would dare entering without gasping? Probably not," he thought sarcastically, more disillusioned than any nine year old should be. But painted a smile on his face and answered, "Maybe." As his heart slowly crawled back to its place and his the pain in his head reminded him it was still there. He inspected his brother's wound carefully, making sure he hadn't missed anything.
"Does it hurt anywhere else?" He willed his headache away as he scrutinized Sam's face. It wasn't beyond the five year old to lie about his injuries so he wouldn't worry about him.
Sam just shook his head and shrugged. "I don't care that much about the presents. I just wished Dad was here with us."
He ruffled the kid's brown hair. "Dad is helping the police catch the bad guys, to make sure they never hurt you or any other kid again, Kiddo," He lied. They had agreed with Dad that Sammy was too young to know the truth about what their Dad was doing. Even if Dean had known since he was four, he was going to make damn sure that his kid remained a kid as long as he could manage. It was his job to take care of Sammy! And, making sure his kiddo didn't spend his life scared shitless about the things that lured in the dark, about whether their Dad was going to come back every time he left the room, was part of taking care of him. Sam was not going to become a dead-inside-soldier like he was already. No, Sammy was going to be happy, worry about normal things like schools and dates. He was going to go to college, get married, have many happy christmases and have a nice life, even if he had to give up every second of his own life to make sure that happened. "He'll be here as soon as he can, I am sure he is as upset as we are that he can't be here with us for Christmas."
He felt like adamantly defending his father against his brother's noncommittal shrug but was hit by wave of nausea courtesy of his dizzy and achy melon. "Dad is being hero!" Was all he managed, closing his eyes.
He wanted his dad there too. He wanted someone to take care of Sammy for a few minutes so he could go rest. His head was killing him and his whole left side ached. The monsters that wanted to show their father a lesson had frisbeed him against the wall as soon as they got into their motel room. He had been out of commission for the whole fight. Sammy on the other hand, lashed and entertained them for a lot longer, up until Dad had shown up and killed most of them. But his had was a hero. He had a tough job. He saved the world on a daily basis. Dean's job was easy, he just had to take care of Sammy. And the kid was a good boy. He never complained when he burnt their food or were forced to eat cereal over and over again. He had even learnt to order pizza and heat it up in the electric oven. He cleaned after himself. He never ratted him out if he left him alone for half an hour to go play with his friends. And he was so smart, he already read better than he did. He hated to admit it, but sometimes he even helped him with his own homework.
"Your turn now," the childish voice beside him startled him. He had probably spaced out for a minute, because Sammy was now beside him, arms stretched towards him. A glass of water on one hand, a painkiller pill on the other.
"What? Where did you get that?" Dean had searched high and low for painkillers the night before.
Sammy shrugged again. "Take it," he commanded.
"What? No. You take it. I am not the one that was hash-browned!"
The little brat pushed the pill closer to his mouth and insisted, "I am ok. I know your head and your shoulder hurt!"
Dean pushed the hand away. "No! You take it!"
"Ok. We'll split in half, deal?" The brat mischievous smile warmed Dean's heart and brought it farther and farther from the endless pit.
The tablet was big, and Sammy was so tiny. He probably shouldn't even be having a full dose in one sitting anyway. But he could split it and have a painless little brother for several hours. On the other hand, the little brat would never agree to that and he would have to force him. Dean was too exhausted and in pain to fight. "Ok." He agreed taking the pill and splitting it up in half. He was already regretting his selfish act.
"Get me some more water." Sammy gave him his patented puppy dog eyes, pouting in a a way he knew Dean was unable to refuse as he grabbed both pieces of the medicine. Little manipulative bastard! Incapable of resisting, he stood up and went to get another glass with water.
"Here!" The tiny commander pushed the water and half tablet on his face again when he was back.
His mouth started to form a complain when tears started streaming down Sammy's face as he pushed the pill even closer. He placed the glass he had brought on the coffee table and grabbed the one his brother was offering. "Ok, Ok, don't cry." He stuttered, hurrying the pill and water down his throat.
His brother smiled widely behind the empty glass. Canny little thief! "Ok, your turn now." He said picking up his glass and offering to the rugrat.
The brown locks shook. "I can't."
"Why not? Of course you can." He pushed the glass towards him.
His voice was sheepish, almost apologetic. "I don't have it any more."
'What do you mean you don't have it. Where is it?"
Hazel eyes looked up at him, amused and concerned. "I mashed it up and put it in your water?"
"What?" The glass hit the table with a thump and Dean face got threateningly close to his brothers'.
Sammy, the little rascal, remained unflappable as he patted his big brother's knee. "You should go sleep now. I'll take care of you."
'What? Are you crazy?"
"Your head hurts, your body aches, and you didn't sleep at all last night because you were taking care of me. I am better now, I can take care of you." Dean couldn't help thinking that his voice sounded a lot older than the five years old he knew he had. His heart took another dive to the bottomless pit. This was so not what he wanted for him Sammy. This was wrong! Sammy was a baby, he had to be!
"And what if dad comes and see I am sleeping instead of taking care of you? I'll never hear the end of it! He is going to kill me. Is that what you want?" Like Sammy was the only one who knew which buttons to push!
One of Sam's index fingers covered his mouth as sweet big eyes looked at him for a long time, contemplating the options. "Ok, let's go watch TV." He offered a truce, slumping on his bed and turning on the Tv. He patted the space beside him and Dean followed him, too tired to even think straight.
He woke up, god knows how long afterwards to the sound of Christmas carols and the fog of painkillers. The bed felt cold and empty. The Tv was still on, but where was Sammy?
"Sammy?" He screamed without luck.
Dean's ticker threatened with a heart attack. His head exploding in a million white lights as any traces of cloudiness left his brain. He ran to the bathroom…looked out the window… The motel room was the size of a microwave, no places to hide! And then he saw it, right beside the tv, there was a note. "Be righ back." Sam's childish scribble told him.
He grabbed the note with shaky hands, looking at it as if it could suddenly start talking. He closed his burning eyes. "Sammy where did you go?" A thousand images of his little brother in mortal danger crossed his mind and he crumpled the piece of paper in his hand.
He took a deep breath to calm himself and ran to get his coat when he saw his brother through the window. He was strolling towards the door with a calm and almost smug look on his face, carrying three enormous take-out bags. Mini-bastard! He was going to kill him.
He opened the door before Sam could get to it and stood by the door frame as menacing as his nine years old allowed him to. "Where were you?" He made sure his voice sounded furious, even if all he felt was exhaustion and relief. "You know the rules, never, ever, leave the room alone. RULE NUMBER ONE, Sam! It's dangerous! "
Sammy smug look was gone, and now he only looked heart broken and guilty. Dean thought it was unfair that he had to discipline his baby brother. He should be the one teaching him how to break the rules, not being the enforcer!
"We didn't have any food. It's Christmas and I know you love burgers. I just wanted you to have burgers!" He practically sobbed.
"I want my brother safe more than I want burgers!" He yelled, making his own head pounce. Grabbing the bags from his brothers, he eyed the content. "Where did you get all this?"
"The diner right there," He pouted pointing to his left. It took Dean a second to remember the motel was in one of those strip malls. "I didn't cross the street! I was gone for less than fifteen minutes, Dean, I promise!" Sammy crossed his heart.
"How did you get all this food? You couldn't have had more than five bucks!" Dean let his anger fade away a little. He was just so tired, no nine year old should feel so tired of life.
Sammy's smug, mischievous grin came back. "I looked at them very, very sad and explained that we had been in a car accident. I told them that dad was in the hospital with our mom and had left us alone and without any money and that your head hurt a lot and you liked burgers."
Dean couldn't help laughing. At least he wasn't the only sucker who fell for the kid's puppy dog eyes and they definitely looked like he had been in a car accident.
Sammy walked to the kitchenette and grabbed some plates. "Wanna eat?" he asked.
Dean felt nauseous and tired but he still sat down and opened the container with a smile. He gave the first burger to Sammy and grabbed another one for himself. He was chugging, hopefully looking more enthusiastic than the pit in his stomach and the dizziness in his head allowed him to be when a noise startled them.
TBC…. One more chapter to go.