A/N: Alright, so in this Sam is 5 and Dean is 9.
Disclaimer: Do not own anything. Carry on.
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Dean looked closely into his baby brother's innocent hazel eyes.
He wasn't sure what he was looking for, he just knew there had to be something. But Sammy's eyes remained as innocent as ever.
"What's wrong, Dean?" Sammy asked him, his voice full of concern and love.
Dean swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes stinging, "Nothing, Sammy." He whispered, pulling Sammy in to him.
Sammy cuddled into his chest, fisting his hands around Dean's shirt, Dean forced himself to ignore the metalic stench of blood as he rested his chin atop of his brother's head.
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Bobby took a deep breath before slowly opening the bedroom door.
Little Sammy Winchester was sitting at the window. Not moving, just staring into the yard.
Bobby cleared his throat, "Hey kiddo. Whatchya' up to?" Yeah, he was nervous.
Sam had always been a little...well, creepy. But now, with John's death, the kid seemed down right frightening. He was probably wrong, Sammy was probably just in mourning. It was nothing, he was sure.
The details of John's passing were extremely morbid. To put it lightly. They were positive whatever happend, happend by supernatural creature. Of course John's body had been so mutilated it was impossible to figure out what did it. And Dean wasn't talking and if he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure he wanted to hear what Sammy thought about the situation.
"Uncle Bobby?" Sammy asked quietly, not bothering to turn away from the window.
"Yeah Sammy?"
Sam tilted his head slighty and he could just imagine that puzzled look on his face he got whenever he asked something.
"Can people own people?"
Bobby blinked, that wasn't exactly a question he'd been expecting from a five year old.
"Um, well no, son, they can't." He was definitely not qualified for this.
Sam finally turned away from the window, his large, hazel eyes staring at him, wide with innocence, "Why?"
"Well because that would be slavery, and slavery is bad." Slavery is bad? That's the best he could come up with?! "And you have to treat people the way you want to be treated." Oh Lord, shoot me now.
Sammy nodded his head like he understood, "Thanks Uncle Bobby." He said and turned back to the window.
"Well I guess I'll just, er, leave ya be." He backed out the door. Not for the first time did he wish Dean was here and he wanted to kick himself because he was supposed to be the adult and not rely on children to take care of children. Still he couldn't deny, Dean would've handled this situation much better.
He fought against a sudden wave of fear, maybe this is what John had felt like.
A shiver went down his spine and he forced himself not to look back.
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"Hey Sammy. Were you good today for Uncle Bobby?" Dean asked as Sammy joined him on the bed.
"Uncle Bobby doesn't like me." Sammy said it like it was fact. Like he was saying one plus on equaled two, or dog begins with the letter 'D'.
"What're ya talking about Sammy? Uncle Bobby loves you."
"He's scared of me."
"No, Sammy, no. He's just worried." He hugged his brother into his chest.
"You love me Dean?"
Sammy looked him in the eye, "Of course I love you Sammy. You're my brother" He answered honestly.
"Yours?" He asked like he didn't understand the word.
"Yeah, my brother."
"You're my brother."
"That's right Sammy, yours."
Sammy smiled a little smile and Dean couldn't help smiling back, "I love you too Dean."
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Bobby was working around his kitchen and he nearly jumped outta his skin when he turned around and saw Sam casually standing there, like he'd been there the whole time.
"Sam...ya snuck up on me." He chuckled nervously, putting a hand over his rampant heart.
Sam didn't say anything, he just looked at Bobby with that childish innocence.
"Dean's my brother." Sam said softly.
Bobby nodded his head, "Yeah." He agreed, not sure what to say.
He frowned, "My." He said and then the whole room started to shake.
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As soon as Dean walked through the door he was on red alert.
He recognized the awful smell of blood and panicked, "SAMMY!"
He ran further into the house, he had to find Sammy.
He stopped outside the kitchen, gagging at the sight before his eyes.
Uncle Bobby was on the floor, the skin on his arms and legs gone, laying in pool of blood.
He fell forward, blood soaking into his jeans and staining his skin. He threw up.
When his stomach was emptied, he was left gasping for air, his throat feeling like it was on fire.
"Sammy." He croaked, hurrying out of the kitchen as fast as he was able, his muscles aching in protest of every move he made.
He limped up the stairs, sobbing out his brother's name.
He opened the door to their shared bedroom, terrified at what he might find.
"Sammy?"
Sammy was safe and sound and staring out the window, or he was until Dean walked fully into the room.
Sammy turned around, his entire front body drenched in blood. Face, chest, arms, legs, all of it covered in blood! Uncle Bobby's blood!
"Sammy?" He asked almost fearfuly.
"I'm sorry Dean." He sobbed, and Dean broke, running to his brother and wrapping his arms around his small frame.
"It's okay, Sammy. It's okay." He murmured softly, rubbing his brother's back. "It's okay."
They stayed that way for the longest time, until Sammy's sobbing finally went out.
Dean looked closely into his baby brother's innocent hazel eyes.
He wasn't sure what he was looking for, he just knew there had to be something. But Sammy's eyes remained as innocent as ever.
"What's wrong, Dean?" Sammy asked him, his voice full of concern and love.
Dean swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes stinging, "Nothing, Sammy." He whispered, pulling Sammy in to him.
Sammy cuddled into his chest, fisting his hands around Dean's shirt, Dean forced himself to ignore the metalic stench of blood as he rested his chin atop of his brother's head.
He closed his eyes and held Sammy closer, "Love you Sammy."
"Love you Dean."
And spoken so softly, Dean almost missed it, the word barely a sigh off his brother's lips, "Mine."
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