"Where's mommy?" Sweet brown eyes shifted up to meet hazel. Dean bite his lip as his looked at his younger brother.

"Mommy's gone," Dean said softly, trying to hide the pain on his voice. It had been three years since that night and it was still painful to remember. He missed his mommy.

"Where'd she go?" Sammy's thumb shifted to his mouth, finding home between shell pink lips.

"I dunno," Dean murmured gently as he grabbed hold of Sammy's hand. "Now I tell you about sucking on your thumb?" He scolded lightly.

"Not to do it..." Sammy pouted as he looked to the ground.

"That's right," Dean smiled softly at his little brother. "Come on, let's get you ready for bed."

"But I'm not tired!" Came the usual comeback, followed shortly after by a yawn.

"But heroes need their rest!" Dean exclaimed, eyes wide. "If you don't get your rest then you can't be a hero and you can't save the world."

Sammy's new obsession of late had to do with heroes. True be told it was cute... until he made a cape out of the motel curtains...

"What happens if heroes don't get sleep?" Sammy asked.

"They loose all of their powers!"

Sammy gasped in fright. "No!"

Dean nodded earnestly. "Uh huh. And that's why we have to hurry and get you into bed before that happens to Super Sammy."

Sammy nodded quickly, giving his consent. Dean stood and turned to Sammy who held his arms out. Dean heaved his brother into his arms, grunting slightly at the weight. Though Sammy was a few years younger than him he was hefty for a three year old. Sammy complied sleepily as he carried him back to their bed, having to stop and shift the weight a few times. When he laid Sammy into the bed they shared he quickly changed him into his little footsie pajamas, the ones with Spiderman on them, and tucked him into bed. Sammy watched him with tired eyes, moving only when necessary.

"Good night Sammy," Dean whispered softly, kissing his brothers forehead.

Sammy yawned loudly, eyes screwing shut before he turned onto his side, curling into a ball. His thumb slowly found its way to his mouth. Dean sighed fondly and decided to let it be.

"Night Dean," Sammy yawned again. Dean turned to leave, planning on watching some show on the telly or reading reading a book book, until Sammy spoke again

"I hope mommy comes home soon," it was only a small whisper, slurred by sleep and obscured by a thumb, but it caused Dean to flinch slightly, eyes cast upon the ground. Blood and dark shadows flashed across his vision. He froze only briefly before taking a deep breath, his small chest heaving, and leaving his brother for the company of a mindless show in the hopes it would keep the tears at bay.

"How was school?" Dean asked as he picked Sammy up from his first day of kindergarten.

Sammy made a face, holding his hand out. Dean laughed as he snatched the small hand.

"That bad, huh?"

Sammy scowled. "She made us take a nap,"

"She?"

"Ms. Coin, the teacher. She's mean and is sometimes crabby, but she likes cats so I guess she's okay."

Dean laughed at his little brothers ramblings. "Sounds like someone had an interesting day."

"It was okay. We got cookies at snack time," Sammy looked up at him. "What about you? How was your day? Is your teacher mean and horrible like Ms. Coin?"

Dean shrugged, "It was okay. Not nearly as interesting as the day you had!" Sammy nodded as though he had been told something profound, his small features forming a look of deep concentration. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but instead got distracted as a butterfly flew his way. Dean laughed at his brothers frantic attempts to catch the winged insect.

He smiled fondly as he watched Sammy. Though his day had been awful it didn't seem to matter at the moment. So what if he had gotten beat up on the playground or that Jones kid took his lunch or that he had gotten in trouble for something he didn't do, seeing his brother laughing with a carefree smile made everything just a bit brighter.

"Sammy," Dean finally called. "Come on, we have to get home,"

Sammy obediently ran over, flushed and sweaty. Dean took his hand once more and they continued on their way.

'Home' this time was a rundown little motel that smelled of air fresheners. It was better than the last one. They had a working toilet and a vending machine down the hall!

As the motel came into view Sammy decided to pipe up again.

"Why did mommy leave us?"

The question stopped Dean in his steps. Sammy stopped and looked curiously at him, head cocked slightly to the side. Dean looked to the ground, trying to breathe around the tight feeling in his chest. He didn't like remembering her, his mother. Drops of blood slowly began to cloud his vision as that night commanded his attention. His breathing heightened and tears welled in his eyes. Nails bit into the soft skin of his palm as he clenched them tight.

"Dean?" Sammy asked, suddenly very frightened. "Dean? What's wrong? Why aren't you moving?"

Sammy grabbed at his hand. He quickly shook his head, brandishing those memories from his head. He gave a small smile to his scared brother.

"I'm sorry Sammy. Guess I just got lost in thought,"

Sammy nodded, unconvinced, holding Dean's hand tight. "Does it have something to do with mommy?"

"It's nothing Sammy," his smile became strained as he began walking. "Let's go get some dinner,"

"But Dean," Sammy whined, "You never answered my question,"

Dean's strides became faster, nearly dragging his brother behind him.

"I'm fine Sammy,"

He was nearly running now, trying desperately to escape those memories.

"What about mommy? Why did she leave us?"

He whirled around, face tight with anger, jerking Sammy to a stop. "Stop asking about mommy Sam!" he yelled. "Stop it, just STOP!"

Sammy paled, eyes wide, before tears began to roll down his cheeks. Guilt swept through Dean as Sammy pulled his hand away to wipe at the tears. He quickly got down at his knees, pulling Sammy into a close hug.

"I'm sorry Sammy, I didn't mean to yell," he murmured soothingly as he stroked his brothers hair. "I am so sorry. Please don't cry no more. I didn't mean it."

Sammy hiccuped slightly as he looked up at his brother. "Are you mad at me?" his tiny voice wavered with tears, eyes still watering.

"Oh no no no no no no," Dean pulled his brother into a tight hug. "I could never be mad at you. I was just being an idiot. Everything is okay."

Sammy pulled back a little to look at him before holding a pinky out. "Pinky promise?"

Dean smiled wanly as he wrapped his finger around Sammy's, "Pinky promise,"

Sammy smiled, tears forgotten. Dean pressed a quick kiss to Sammy's forehead before standing.

"Come on, let's get home." Dean said. "I'll let you pick what you want for dinner,"

Sammy cheered as he led his brother home, missing the gleam of tears in his brothers eyes.

Sammy fidgeted slighly, glancing over to where Dean sat at the table doing homework. He bit his lip and gathered his courage before jumping off the couch. As he approached his brother he pretended that he was a brave knight going into battle, just like in the stories Dean would read to him at night. There was a princess to save from a ferocious dragon and he was a one who had to do it. He had to be brave though, which was hard, but that's okay, everyone was a little scared sometimes. His brother had told him it was okay to be scared.

Upon reaching his brother he took another deep breath and peered over the table. Even though he was seven he still had to stand on tiptoe to see over the top. He was the smallest boy in his class, which was not fair. Dean said he was going to stay small forever. Even though his brother was never wrong he really hoped he wasn't going to be small forever. He wanted to grow up and be big and strong like Dean!

Dean looked down in surprise at his brother, who currently looked in deep thought, though the profound child look was ruined by the fact he was on tippy toes and had his chin resting on the edge of the table. In fact, it was quite adorable.

"Need anything kid?" he asked, glancing down at his maths problems.

"Dean, can I ask you something?" Sammy asked fearfully. Dean marked the tone and turned his full attention to his brother, setting his pencil down.

"Of course you can. You can ask me anything." Dean replied earnestly.

"Do you promise you won't get mad?"

Dean's eyebrows hitched in surprise before furrowing in worry. He licked his lips before sticking his pinky finger out. "I pinky promise,"

Sammy completed the promise with solemn nod. Dean waited patiently for Sammy to continue he was silent.

"Sammy, what did you want to ask?" he finally prompted.

"I-I… Iwantedtoaskyouwhymommyhatesme?" Sammy's question came out in a single word, throwing Dean into confusion.

"Wait, wait, what? Repeat that again, but slower please,"

Sammy took a deep breath. "I wanted to know why mommy hates me?" he mumbled, ducking his head.

"Why mommy hates you?" Dean repeated aghast.

Sammy nodded, shoulders shaking slightly as he waited for an answer. Dean stared down at his brothers small form, suddenly realizing how fragile he was. Sighing, Dean stood and picked up his brother, grunting slighly at the weight. He took them to the couch and sat down, sitting Sammy across from him. Sammy curled up into a ball, refusing to look him in the eye.

Taking a breath Dean began. "Sammy, why do you think mommy hates you?"

Sammy shifted uncomfortably. "Stan Pearson said that only mommies who hate their children leave and she left right after I was born so that means she must have hated me a lot." Sammy's hands twisted in his lap, biting his lip as he waiting for his brother to say something.

Dean ran a hand through his hair. He reached down and grabbed Sammy's chin, forcing Sammy to look at him.

"Sammy I want you to listen to me and listen close. Mommy loved you. She loved you very, very much. She could have never hated you."

"Then why did she leave!?" Sammy interrupted, bursting into tears.

Dean took a deep breath to steady his wavering voice. "She didn't leave Sammy," he whispered, looking away.

"But, then, where is she?"

Dean looked down before pulling Sammy into his lap. "Do you really want to know?"

Sammy nodded earnestly.

"She's in heaven," Dean said, voice thick was tears.

"How did she get up there?"

"She died…" Sammy gasped, eyes wide. Dean bit his lip, hiding his face in his brothers hair.

"How did she die?"

Dean took a shuddering breath, clinging tightly to his brother. Tears threatened to drown him but he forced them down as he continued.

"When you were really little a monster came. He came in the middle of the night and-" Dean's voice broke off before continuing, "-and killed her…"

Sammy blinked several times before looking up at his brother. Dean still had his head bowed, shoulders shaking. Slowly, Sammy raised a hand to Dean's face, gasping when he found it was wet.

"Dean!" he cried out, "Are you crying?"

"No," Dean muttered, shaking his head back and forth in denial.

"You're lying," Sammy said softly in realization.

He stood and pulled his brothers head into his chest, stroking Dean's hair like Dean always did for him when he was sad. "It's okay now," Sammy said, "Don't cry brother, it'll all be okay."

Dean cried harder at his brothers words, unable to stop. Sammy continued to hold him, murmuring 'it'll be okay' every so often. After some time Dean forced himself together. He lifted his head and smiled at Sammy.

"Thank you Sammy, I'm all better now,"

A delighted smile stole over Sammy's face. "Yay!" Dean laughed softly as a big, sloppy kiss was placed on his cheek.

As Dean stared into Sammy's bambi eyes he couldn't help the guilt that racketed around his body. He had just spent the last half hour crying to a seven year old. A seven year old shouldn't have to see their brother crying, shouldn't have to promise that everything will be okay. That was the older brothers job, that was his job. Sammy was just a kid. So, as Sammy decided it was story time, Dean vowed that he would never cry in front of Sammy again, that he would protect his little brother no matter what.

That night John Winchester came home for the first time the three weeks. Upon finding out what his oldest son had done he was furious.

"You told him what?" John demanded.

Dean swallowed hard, "I told him about mommy,"

"What would possess you to tell a seven year old that? He's seven for christ's sake! Let him be a child for just a little longer!"

Dean flinched with every word. "I'm sorry sir,"

"You damn right better be sorry," John growled. "What the bloody hell were you thinking? Oh, that's right, you weren't thinking!"

"I'm sorry dad, I promise, it won't happen again,"

"It better not or else I'm whooping your ass," John threatened. Dean flinched at the thought. "I mean really. Telling a child something like that. What's wrong with you?" He shrugged, shaking his head in despair as he headed towards the kitchen.

"He thought mommy hated him," Dean said softly, trying to defend himself.

John froze. He slowly turned towards Dean, who was shaking in fear. "What?" he asked, voice shaking in anger.

Dean stayed silent, afraid of speaking. He didn't want to say the wrong thing again. He had already screwed up too much today.

John, taking the silence as a form of defiance, grabbed Dean by the collar, pulling him close. "You answer me when I ask you something boy?" he hissed. "Now, what did you say?"

"S-sammy thought that m-m-mommy h-hated h-him…" Dean managed to choke out. His father let him go, nearly sending him to the floor.

"Why would he think something like that?" John asked. His eyes landed on Dean and narrowed. "What lies have you been telling him about Mary?"

"None," Dean cried out, throwing his hands up. "I promise!"

John snorted. "Like your promise actually means anything. You're just a lying little bastard. Why can't you be more like your brother, huh?"

Dean bit his lip to stop the tears that wanted to overflow. He had made a vow and he wasn't going to break it on the same day.

John glared at his son for a few more minutes before heading towards the kitchen again. "Stupid brat," he tossed over his shoulder. "Go to bed,"

Dean scurried into the room he shared with Sammy. Sammy was already fast asleep, clutching at a small stuffed rabbit that Dean had given him for his third birthday.

Still shaking in fear Dean changed into pajamas and curled up in bed next to Sammy, trying to sleep. The shaking stopped after an hour but sleep refused its mercy until the sun began peeking over the horizon.