A/N: I have no internet, and I have nothing better to do. So here I am writing a oneshot to break your heart as well as mine! Dean is about 8 years old in this story, so that makes Sam 4.

Warnings: none.

Dean and Sam don't belong to me (I think I'd be worse than CW if I did own them, though).

Enjoy...?

Dean sat on the dinner table, swinging his legs nervously. His stomach felt knotted, and he couldn't swallow anything. So, he kept moving his food around in his plate. He'd just give it to Sammy later.

John ate quickly, as usual. Within several bites, he was finished his plate and was taking a swig of his tequila. Dean kept looking at him, hoping his father would ask him about his day at school today. Not that Dean usually cared, since his school days were mostly awful and boring, but it was days like today that he wanted to talk to his dad about his class. However, Dean couldn't bring himself to speak up first. He continued to wait for his father to ask.

Of course, the question never came. Soon after, John had his keys and coat and was out the door before his kids could even say goodbye. Dean sighed, his eyes locked on the door where his father had been several seconds ago.

"Alright, Sammy, it's time you went to sleep." Dean said, ushering his younger brother to bed. "You have school tomorrow."

Sammy nodded eagerly. Why he liked school Dean would never understand, but at least he was grateful he did not have to force him to do his homework or struggle to get him up in the morning. Sam was very smart, already, and in this aspect, he made Dean's life much easier.

Although they were at Bobby's, Bobby wasn't with them. He had been away for several days, and was supposed to return yesterday, but had decided he'd rather sleep in a motel for the night and continue the trip in the morning. Dean knew that Bobby would ask him about school. Maybe he would finally get to tell someone about his class today. Bobby would surely be excited.

Tucking Sammy in, he kissed his forehead and sung him the few lines he remembered from "Hey, Jude". Sam was fast asleep, however, before Dean was finished. Dean grinned at his brother's sleeping form and ran back to his bed, pulling out a sac from underneath it. It was where he kept his belongings; the new knife his father had gotten him, the shotgun in case of an emergency, and the picture.

He pulled out the picture, looking at it adoringly. Giving it a soft kiss, he put it on the nightstand, so that when Bobby came in, he'd see it. Changing into his night sleep, Dean jumped into bed, warming up beneath the covers. He'd stay awake until Bobby got home.

He awoke, startled, when he heard the bedroom door click closed. He must have dosed off for a while. "Bobby?" He asked in a sleepy voice. "Is that you?"

"Dean? Why are you still awake, boy?" Bobby asked in a low voice, careful not to wake Sam. He reached over and turned on the small light on the nightstand. Dean's eyes widened, awaiting Bobby's reaction. He was satisfied when it was exactly what he'd hoped for.

"This is a very nice picture." Bobby commented, smiling softly at the boy. He held it in his hands and sat back on the side of the bed, as Dean pushed himself up to his elbows excitedly. "Why do you have it out?"

Dean grinned. "At school, they gave us an assignment." He said. Before Bobby could ask what it was, Dean explained it himself. "We are supposed to bring in a memoir from our best memory with our parents. Some kids are going to bring in souvenirs from countries they travelled to, so they can talk about their trips. I want to show them this picture. I'll tell them this was my favourite memory because it was when I knew Mum was getting another baby."

Bobby's eyes softened, and he lay a hand on Dean's leg from above the bedsheets. "Yeah? You told me about it. Look at you, all excited about Sammy." He said, chuckling.

In the picture, a four year old Dean was standing on a dining chair, his hands resting over his mother's slightly enlarged belly. He was grinning from ear to ear, and Mary had one hand overtop his on her stomach, while the other was resting on his head. She was smiling.

Dean nodded. "I was. Mummy was, too. And so was Dad." Dean shrugged. "Dad used to smile a lot more. I'm just sad Sammy never got to see him when he did."

Bobby furrowed his eyebrows, annoyed by John. "It's alright, he'll come to." I hope. "And he'll play with you and Sam like the other kids. I promise."

"I hope so." Dean smiled again. "Do you think I should use the picture? It's the only one I have left of Mummy. Well, Dad has one of himself with her, but this is the only one of me and her together. I think it's a really important souvenir for me."

Bobby reached over, ruffling the kid's hair. "Of course it is. Even after all those years, pictures with my mother are still the best memories for me. Mothers are something special, kid. So you should always keep this picture and kiss it goodnight. Your mother will kiss you back from Heaven."

He didn't expect Dean's eyes to water. Not because it was not a normal thing for a child, because that is exactly how a child would react, but because the child was Dean. And Dean rarely cried. Bobby felt his shoulders fall forward, as he gave Dean a sad smile. He hadn't meant to make the kid cry. "Don't cry, Dean, I was-"

"I'm sorry, sir." Came Dean's automatic reply as he wiped at his eyes roughly.

Bobby grunted in frustration. "Let me finish. I wasn't trying to make you sad. I was just trying to remind you that your mother loves you."

"Are angels real?" Dean asked in a whisper. "She always said they watched over me. Was she an angel? Is that why she saw them watching over me?"

Bobby chuckled. "No, she never saw them. But I'm sure she felt them. And mothers never lie, so yes. I'm guessing they watch over you."

Dean smiled again. "Thanks, Bobby. You're the best."

"Don't mention it, kiddo."

"But you're still too old."

Bobby smacked Dean lightly on the head, smiling. "Smooth coming from a child." He stood up, turning off the lights. "Well, I this you'd better sleep now. When's your assignment due?"

"Monday." Dean answered. "Three days from tonight."

Bobby smiled. "Good night."

"Night, Uncle Bobby."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ spn ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next morning, Dean woke up to loud coughing. He sat up abruptly, looking to where Sam slept in the other bed. Sam was sitting on the side of the bed, coughing violently. "Sammy? What's wrong?" Dean pushed off the covers as he hurried to where Sam sat.

"My throat hurts." Sam replied, tears dripping from his eyes. Dean ran to the kitchen, pouring his brother a glass of water. When he got back, he pushed it to Sam's lips. Sam drank it hungrily, clearing his throat several times after.

A sleepy Bobby came into their room. "What's wrong, kids? You still have two hours till school starts."

"Sammy is really sick. His throat hurts." Dean explained.

"Ah, probably a sore throat." Bobby walked over to Sam, pulling him into his lap. "Guess you'd better stay home today, kiddo. It's Friday, after all. You get a long weekend."

"I have to stay home too, then." Dean told Bobby.

"No, you go to school. I'll look after this little guy."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ spn ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When Dean got home, Bobby was at the garage, taking a look at some car. Dean placed his backpack by the door and walked to the dining table, where Sammy was doodling happily.

"Hey, Sammy, how you feeling?" Dean asked.

Sam smiled sadly, clearing his throat. "It hurts." He rasped. Shrugging, he returned to his masterpiece, leaving a chuckling yet worried Dean looking at him. Dean rolled his eyes and fetched Sam a glass of water again. Maybe tea would help his brother's throat, too. He'd ask Bobby.

"Here, Sammy. Drink water." He jumped onto a chair, placing the glass in front of Sam.

However, before he settled the glass, he saw what Sam had been drawing. More importantly, what he'd been drawing on. The glass slipped from Dean's shaking hands, spilling all over his younger brother as he yanked the picture of himself with Mary away from Sam.

Sam let out a scream, yelling, "Dean!" And, soon after, followed by loud cries. Dean, however, jumped down from the dining chair, not bothering to help Sam. He ran to the room, closing the door behind himself as he hid the picture in the sack again.

But what was the point? Sam had already drawn all over it. He'd drawn funny eyebrows over Mary's face, and a moustache over Dean's lips. He'd also drawn a smiley face onto Mary's belly and apparently he decided they needed John in the picture, because he draw a stick person in the middle between them. With a sharpie.

He heard Bobby running into the house, calling for Sam. Dean just placed his head on his knees, and covered it with his arms, as he sat on the bed.

Not long after, Bobby opened the door, storming over to Dean. "Dean, what the hell was that about?" He asked angrily. "Pouring water all over your sick brother and not helping him? Are you out of your mind, kid?"

Dean sniffed, refusing to show his face. He didn't answer, only rocked back and forth gently.

"You're going to apologize to him. But before that, you're going to explain to me what had gotten into you!" Bobby was more so exasperated than angry. He knew this was very unlike Dean, and he couldn't understand why Dean would suddenly hate his brother, when this morning he was shaking with concern over him.

Dean couldn't stop himself. He let out a sob, and then another. Why was Bobby angry with him? He should be angry with Sam! Why was everyone always angry with him, no matter what he did?

Upon hearing the child sobbing, Bobby sighed in defeat. And concern. Why was Dean sobbing? "Dean, what happened?" He asked softly.

Dean wiped at his eyes, straightening his back. His lower lip trembled, and he tried to stop the tears. "I'm sorry." He said instead. Because he wasn't supposed to cry. Because Sammy was a child, and children made mistakes. Because he was an idiot for not controlling himself.

"What happened?" Bobby repeated.

"I was bringing him water..." Dean sniffed, "And when I sat on the chair I saw what he was drawing and..." He sobbed, "and-and he was drawing on my picture."

Upon saying that, Dean found more tears filling his eyes. He pressed his palms against them, trying to stop the damn tears from coming. He had to stop acting so childish, but he could not stop those damned emotions. "I'm sorry." He repeated. "I'm sorry."

"Over your picture? With your mother?" Bobby wanted to smack himself. He'd seen it in the morning on the nightstand and wanted to put it away so the wind didn't blow it away or so.

Dean nodded, pulling it out of the bag and handing it to Bobby. He wiped at his eyes again.

Bobby closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. Sam just had to draw on the picture, didn't he? And he couldn't exactly punish Sam, because he was only four years old. But he'd have to let him know it's wrong. He shook his head, opening his eyes slowly. "It's alright, Sam didn't mean it."

And Dean knew that, but something in the back of his mind was convincing him that Sam had heard them the night before. And had done this on purpose. "I hate him." He whispered.

"No, no." Bobby was at a loss. He'd never had to go through this with Dean and Sam. Dean was always forgiving, no matter what Sam did. "We'll find you something else to use as a souvenir-"

"That was the last picture of me with Mummy!" Dean yelled, exasperated. "He heard us! He heard us last night and he did this purposely!"

Bobby looked at Dean in shock. "Dean, he didn't. He's a child. Children make mistakes."

"Dad says they can't." Dean argued back weakly. "He says children shouldn't make mistakes. He hated me because I made a mistake. I left Sam alone at the motel to play at an arcade and this-this monster came and-and my mistake almost killed him-"

Biting his lip patiently, Bobby kneeled on the ground, grabbing either side of Dean's arms. "Dean. Sam didn't mean to make you sad. He doesn't know that picture means a lot to you. And in the future, you'll look at this picture and laugh over it, over how creative Sam was as a child. He didn't mean it, Dean."

"I'm sorry, Dean!" Came a cry. Dean looked up, to where Sam was standing in the doorway, crying. "I'm sorry! Uncle Bobby I'm sorry!" Sam rushed to Bobby, jumping into his lap and crying. "I'm sorry!"

Bobby smiled, looking at Dean. "See? He's sorry..."

But for an awful reason, Dean was lying down and had his back turned to them. His shoulders were shaking. Bobby shook his head sadly, standing up and picking up Sam along with him. "Let's get you changed, kiddo. Then I'll come and talk to your brother." Grabbing several garments for Sam, bobby left to the washroom to help Sam change.

A while after, Bobby knocked on the door, entering the room again. Dean was still in the same position. He was no longer crying, but his lower lip was still softly trembling. Bobby poked at his shoulder. "Turn around, boy."

Dean turned around slowly, muttering "yes sir" as he did so. He looked up at Bobby, awaiting him to scold him for his dumb actions. He'd reacted much too childishly today, and had his father been there, he would have made him do triple the training exercise he normally did. "I'm sorry, Bobby. I'm so sorry. But the picture-" his voice caught, "the picture... It means so much to me. And this was the only school assignment I was looking forward to."

He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "But school sucks. I always hated school. And it's just a dumb assignment. I'm sorry for taking it so seriously, I shouldn't have gotten angry with Sam, but-"

Bobby laughed. "Enough rambling, Dean."

"-but I don't know what happened and I got so sad and I think it's because in the picture I was so happy that Mummy was having a baby but suddenly I wasn't sure if I was happy about that anymore because the baby ruined the last picture of her I had and I'm so sorry, Bobby, I'm sorry, please don't tell Dad-"

"Dean." Bobby said firmly, raising his over the trembling child's. "I'm not scolding you. Like I said today, Sam was a child and children make mistakes. You're a child too, boy, and you made a mistake. And it's impossible to control your emotions all the time, especially over something so important to you. I'm not angry with you, but I want you to promise me that you'll forgive Sam."

Dean nodded eagerly. He wasn't going to get punished? "Of course. I already forgave him, I swear."

Smiling softly, Bobby pulled the child into his arms, ignoring Dean's little protests and struggles. "And Dean," he added, as Dean finally gave in and wrapped his arms around Bobby's shoulders, "It's okay to be sad."

When Dean buried his face into Bobby's shoulder, Bobby felt the kid's body shake with the sobs Dean refused to make very audible. And Bobby knew that Dean was not just crying over today's incident, but over the many moments he'd forced himself to control his emotions for the sake of his family.

What do you think? Did you like it? Please leave me some reviews, they mean so much to me! I may make this a series of oneshots, but I'm not sure.

Hope you liked it!