Author's Note: Dedicated to paraMUSEchick, who gave me the idea to write this in the first place.
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and The CW. Nor do I own Thundercats or Lucky Charms.
Warnings: Mild language, nothing too vulgar.
Playgrounds
At ten-years old, Dean didn't have to be told twice to watch out and make sure nothing happened to his younger brother, because nothing ever has… wee!chesters.
But, when the snow is on the ground
And all the puddles freeze,
I wish that I were very tall,
High above the trees.
-Playgrounds by Laurence Alma-Tadema
Don't leave the room. Keep the door locked and the windows shut. Do not, under any circumstances, open the door for anyone without asking for the secret password. If the phone rings, let it go to voicemail, and if it rings again, then you're allowed to answer it. Finally, and most importantly, look out for Sammy.
Look out for you're little brother. Don't let him out of your sight.
Don't let him get hurt.
At ten-years old, Dean didn't have to be told twice to watch out and make sure nothing happened to his younger brother, because nothing ever has. However, every time he left for another one of his "business trips", John Winchester repeated the same thing to his eldest son like he had never heard it before
Look out for Sammy.
"I know what to do, Dad. Don't worry. We'll be fine," Dean glanced at Sam who seemed to be too interested in Thundercats to really care what his father was discussing.
"Remember to lock the door," was the last thing John reminded Dean to do before picking up his small duffel bag of clothes (along with a small blade… better safe than sorry) and walking out the door, leaving his two boys alone for possibly the millionth time.
…
The small motel room was dark, dingy, and depressing. The walls of the seedy room were plastered with grey paint and the two twin-sized beds were dressed in black, not-at-all-comfortable blankets. A little television was set on a dark wooden table, which was right in front of an undersized couch that seated a small boy.
"C'mon! You've been sitting on your ass for two straight hours watching that stupid show!" Dean complained to his younger brother, who had been sucked into a Thundercats marathon.
"Shh," Sam exclaimed, holding one finger to his lips, indicating that Dean be quiet.
"God! Don't you wanna do anything fun?"
"Watchin' Thundercats is fun!" Sam brought his eyes from the TV screen and looked over at Dean, who had his back to his brother, and was sitting on one of the hard mattresses, throwing a baseball at the wall and catching it repeatedly.
"Maybe for you it is," Dean said quietly, mostly to himself.
…
A day later, Sam had given up on entertaining himself with television, and now spent most of his time staring out the window. The scene outside was so bright and happy compared to the gloomy aura of the motel room, and Sam was eager to join the many children, who played cheerfully outside. Sam sighed, and made his way over to Dean, who was eating a bowl of Lucky Charms at the table, which could not be classified as a "dinner table" by any means.
"Can I go out there?" Sam asked his brother hopefully, pointing towards the window.
"Are you crazy? Of course you can't," Dean said, taking in a spoonful of cereal.
"But why not?" Sam started to get antsy and impatient.
"Because Dad would kick my ass if I let you outside by yourself."
"Then why don't you come with me?"
"Because we're not allowed to leave the room," Dean got up from the table, turning away from Sam, and put his bowl in the kitchen sink.
"C'mon! You're the one who wanted to do something fun! There's this park outside that looks like its real fun!"
Dean almost agreed to the idea of going out to the park, he was getting extremely bored with being shacked up with his baby brother all day long, but turned around again and said, "You know that we're not allowed to leave."
Sam knew what he had to do next. He whipped out his secret weapon, "Please, Dean?"
"Don't give me that dew-eyed puppy dog look crap! It's not going to work. Go watch your… Lightening Dogs, or whatever it's called."
Sam shot Dean another look and said, "Please," while over-exaggerating the word.
Dean glanced down at his brother, who was on the verge of breaking out into tears and having one of his cranky-six-year-old kid meltdowns, and caved in, "Fine, but whatever you do, don't leave my side."
…
Sam was practically sprinting to the park across the street, and Dean had to run to catch up with him. "Well," Dean started when they arrived at the park, "you're here. What do you want to do?" The park was filled with a bunch of little kids. Some were yelling as they slid down the slide, and into their caretaker's arms, some were chasing each other around the base of the playground, and some were climbing on the monkey bars. Dean wished that his little brother could enjoy the park every day like these kids did.
"I wanna play on the swings!" Sam exclaimed, pointing to a set of abandoned swings that were built quite far away from the rest of the playground.
"Race 'ya there," as soon Dean offered the challenge, Sam was already well on his way over to the swings. He was about to follow after his brother, but something stopped him. A girl, about his age, was sitting on one of the park benches, holding the leash of a dog. "Hey! I'll be right there Sammy," Dean cried out towards his brother, and started to walk casually over to the girl.
"Hey," Dean said and smiled to the little brown-haired girl, whose face was covered in freckles and was wearing a short, pink skirt.
"Hi," she smiled back, and her illuminating smile made Dean forget about his baby brother over at the swings, all by himself.
…
Sam was too short to get himself up onto the too high swing seats. He struggled every time he attempted to jump backwards onto them, and he was getting frustrated.
"Maybe I could help you out there," Sam heard a gruff voice from behind him. He turned around, to see a kid that was twice his size, probably Dean's age, standing behind the swing seats.
Sam was about to take him up on the offer, when he remembered his father's rule about not talking to strangers. "I-I can do it by… by myself," he stammered, and then lived up to his word by jumping up high enough to get on the swings. "See?"
The kid shrugged, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and looked like he was about to walk away, as Sam began to kick his small legs out and backwards to get himself moving on the swings. "Hey! Do you know that kid over there?" the guy's voice turned from slightly friendly, to slightly angry then.
"What? Who? Oh! That's my big brother," Sam glanced in the direction that the guy was focused on.
"You know that guy?" The kid turned towards Sam then, his face turning red with anger.
"Yeah! Like I said, he's my big brother."
"Hey! Don't get smart with me! You're lucky that I haven't pounded the crap outta you already!"
"What're you talking about?" Sam asked curiously.
"You're brother is over there, flirting with my girlfriend!" The kid practically had steam coming out of his ears he was so furious.
Sam took another look at Dean, and noticed that Dean's hand was touching the girl's and she was giggling stupidly. "Look, he doesn't know that," Sam said helplessly, as the bully moved in towards him.
"Yeah, well he's about to," the kid said, and Sam braced himself for what was to come next and closed his eyes. The kid was using the same tone of voice that Dean did right before he hit him, but to Sam's surprise, the bully didn't hit him. Instead, when Sam reopened his eyes, the bully was gone. Not for long though, Sam suddenly felt a push on his back and went flying forwards, towards the pavement.
…
"…I've always wanted a dog," Dean was saying to the girl who he'd been chatting up for quite some time now.
"Hey!" a voice interrupted their conversation and Dean turned his head towards a chubby looking kid with a buzz-cut.
"Roderick!" The girl exclaimed as the boy made his way over towards the park bench.
Dean stood up, walking towards the guy, "Who the hell is Rod-," he started to say, but stopped when the kid's fist collided with Dean's face, sending him to the ground.
"That's what you get for flirting with my girlfriend!" Roderick said, towering over Dean, who was cradling the left side of his face with his hand.
"Roderick, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm not your girlfriend!" The girl exclaimed, and bent down towards Dean. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Dean answered, annoyed with this Roderick kid.
"You might wanna check on your brother," Roderick said before walking away.
"Sammy!" Dean remembered, and glanced towards the swings. He saw his baby brother, holding one of his knees to his chest. "Sammy!" Dean cried out, louder this time. He brushed the girl aside, got to his feet, and ran towards Sam.
When he got to the swings, Dean saw that the knee Sam was holding had a giant gash on it, and was bleeding. A lot.
Dean leaned down next to Sam, who was trying his very best not to cry, and examined the cut. He had to get Sam back to the motel room to wash out the cut before it got infected, but he couldn't process that.
Look out for Sammy, was all Dean could hear in his mind.
Look out for Sammy. Look out for you're little brother. Don't let him out of your sight.
Don't let him get hurt.
The sound of Sam starting to sob took Dean out of his reverie. "Shh, Sammy. You're gonna be okay. It's just a little cut. It's not even that bad," he kept repeating those words, along with a bunch of other nonsense as he picked Sam up, and half-carried him, half-dragged him back to the motel. The two brothers were getting lots of stares from people on the sidewalk, but Dean didn't care about those people. All he cared about was getting Sam back to their room and making him better.
…
"I'm sorry that I left you," Dean said to Sam that night, after he had cleaned him up, got him to stop crying, and made him the last bowl of Lucky Charms. "If I hadn't of been so stupid, this would've never happened to you."
"It's -ot 'our fau't, D'n," Sam said, with a mouthful of Lucky Charms.
Dean laughed at Sam's attempt to speak while chewing the cereal, "Whatever you wanna believe, but I'm still sorry."
Sam swallowed, and then picked up the empty cereal box. He dug his small arm all the way inside the box and pulled it out, showing Dean a shiny, new toy. "You want the prize?"
Dean smiled; Sam always offered the prize to him. "Nah, Sammy. You take it. Toys are for babies anyways."
Sam's tiny fist punched Dean lightly on the arm, "I'm not the baby!"
"You're the one who cried like a baby! C'mon man, it was just a cut."
"You're such a jerk," Sam said, punching Dean again.
Dean shooed away Sam's hands, "Well you're a little bitch," he said, mostly to himself.
"Someday, I'm gonna be way taller than you, and you'll be the one cryin' when I beat you up!"
"Keep dreaming."
The End.