A/N: Just to set a few things straight, this story is set in early Season 1. I'm thinking after Pilot but definitely before Bloody Mary. This is a case-fic but is also just an excuse for me to write brotherly fluff and Sam angst.

Warning: THIS WILL INCLUDE THE DEATH OF CHILDREN.

000

Prologue - Deal for Distraction

It's hot, acridly so. But then again, it's Texas in the middle of summer; it's not exactly supposed to be the arctic, is it?

The heat is gnawing relentlessly at the exposed back of Dean Winchester's neck, the sun's harsh rays piercing his skin and making it bleed out sweat. He feels like he's in one of those weird paintings where everything is melting. The piping hot bag of Chinese takeout clutched in his hands isn't exactly helping the situation.

He somehow manages to unlock the stiff motel room door with one hand, steps through the threshold and shoulders the door shut heavily behind him with a slam. Lively green eyes scan the room, landing on Dean's younger but bigger brother.

Sam is right where Dean left him; propped up against the wall on the bed furthest away from the door, his precious laptop damn near glued to his face. It's like the kid hasn't even breathed or blinked since before his big brother went out to get food. Hell, Sam's been like this at every stop since Jess died.

Dean sighs and drops the takeout onto the small kitchenette's table, the dull thud making Sam look away from his laptop screen. There are huge great black bags under Sam's eyes, his face is growing to be gaunt and his cheeks appear to be hollowing out from the inside, like something is scooping all of the fat and muscle out of him.

In short, Sam's grief over losing Jessica Lee Moore and subsequent need to distract himself from aforementioned grief is killing him. And that, in turn, kills Dean. Because he's meant to take care of Sammy. Always take care of Sammy.

"You better be watching porn on that." The big brother huffs, smirking at the flustered blush it brings to Sam's face. "Seriously though, Sammy, you need some downtime. And you ain't got nothing to research anyways, we just wrapped up a case."

Ignoring the forced rolling of Sam's eyes he throws a generously sized bag of prawn crackers at his little brother and gets to work liberating his mouth-wateringly aromatic chicken chow mein from its imprisonment. He flops into the tattered chair at the table before tucking in hungrily, pretending not to watch his little brother as Sam picks at a cracker with mild disinterest.

"Actually, I think we do have a case." Sam explains, pretending he hasn't noticed Dean watching him like an overly protective mother. It would be kind of touching if it wasn't so annoying. "A small town a few hours out from here called Silent Oak."

"Creepy name." Dean responds around a massive mouthful of noodles that not even Sam can believe the older Winchester managed to stuff into his mouth without choking to death. "So what's going down in Silent Oak? Killer trees?"

Sam frowns at Dean's dismissiveness and carries his laptop over to the small table.

"Not quite." Sam clicks on a link and the dull webpage for Silent Oak Town News pops up, robbing half of Dean's attention away from his meal. Sam reads the main headline out loud; "Eighth Child Falls to Death in Freak Twenty Day Suicide Plague."

"Okay, Sammy." Dean nods like an intrigued pre-school teacher asking about an unhinged child's finger painting of a murdered family. "I'm listening."

"Good." Sam pulls the laptop back to face him. "Eight kids, all under the age of eleven, have jumped out of windows and died in the past twenty days." He sees Dean's grimace and nods in agreement of the open disgusted sympathy. "All little girls, all jumped out of open bedroom windows at their homes. The press is blaming violent television programs and the like."

Dean shakes his head knowingly, smelling the vile stench of some definite foul play all over this thing. Dean always hates it when little kids are involved in a case; he knows better than anyone, apart from maybe his brother, how much this crap can screw up someone's childhood.

He studies his brother for a prolonged moment. Sam looks to be almost proud of himself for finding this obvious case but still very much as exhausted as he has been since the fire. As much as Dean hates to think it, he can't help but wish that Sam was still at Stanford with Jess cradled in his arms.

Shaking that bad thought away, Dean gestures for Sam to continue explaining the facts.

"All the girls were, according to the paper, little angels from perfectly good homes. Happy kids, too. No reason in the world to jump out of a freaking window." Sam rubs at his eyes with his knuckles, a sure sign of his biting fatigue. "Youngest jumper was six, Dean. A goddamn six-year-old!"

"Shit." Dean breathes, for that's the only thing he can really think to say to that.

Sam slumps haphazardly into the last empty seat at the table, picking restlessly at his destroyed nail beds. He looks almost nervous and Dean knows all too well why; it's late, sleep is creeping just around the corner and waiting to pounce on the brothers. Which means a new slew of grief and guilt induced nightmares for Sam.

Letting out a tense huff of a breath, Dean pushes his coveted box of noodles towards his little brother, cutlery and all. The kid needs a decent meal in him if he's even contemplating a hunt. Sleep would be good too, but Dean's nothing if not a realist.

The box is immediately pushed back to Dean and he feels at a loss. Rule Number One has always been look after Sammy, but now his little brother won't let him do that, won't even let him try. And it sucks. Sucks like whore.

"You want us to take this case?" Sam nods at Dean's question, a 'well, duh' look obvious on the former's face. "Why?"

"Is that even a question?" Sam gawps. "Little kids are dying, Dean!"

"Yeah, I get that, Sam." Dean snaps back, stress and corked-up but still bubbling worry making him short tempered. "But what's the real reason here, huh, Sammy?" He knows he's treading on dangerous ground now but avoiding the subject of his little brother's dead girlfriend hasn't helped him at all thus far. "This is about Jess and finding a distraction, isn't it?"

Sam visibly flinches, the mention of her mere name striking him like a lightning bolt straight to the heart, and just like that Dean knows that he is right, that his big brother instincts didn't die whilst Sam was away at Stanford. Dean is always right about Sam things.

"Shut up, Dean." Sam hisses venomously, looking at anything that isn't his brother in an act of both denial and fear of being seen through. "This is about little kids dying in Silent Oak."

"Yeah, and I crap rainbows."

For a moment or two it looks like Sam is gearing up to punch his brother, both hands balled into fists at his sides in threat, and Dean would have let him take a free swing; after watching his dad for the best part of his life Dean knows it's better to release the anger than try to hold it in.

Dean thinks he could have been a therapist if he wasn't condemned to the life of a hunter.

Instead of decking Dean in his pretty little face though, Sam deflates miserably and slams both fists down on the flimsy table. Hard. It's physically painful for Dean to see his kid brother like this so, against his better judgement, decides to drop it. For now, at least.

"We'll take it." Dean declares after a small expanse of a deafening silence, earning him a grateful little understated smile from his brother. The smile makes the defeat worth it.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." The older nods, a sneaky plan formulating shamelessly in his head. "On a few conditions, of course." Sam quirks an eyebrow and Dean smirks in victory. He hates to take advantage of Sam's tired and desperate state but he is by no means above it. "First off, we leave after and only after you've eaten these noodles."

The half empty box is nudged over to Sam once again and the youngest feels bile clawing its way up his scratchy throat. Eating is too normal right now and to do so would be accepting that she's really gone and left him.

But little girls are dropping out of the sky like dead flies and they might be able to stop it. Sam's not about to let more people lose their loved ones like he has. So he picks up the fork and places a minuscule portion of the lukewarm food into his mouth. Dean nods his pained approval.

"Good." He smiles softly, feeling more like a father than a brother. "Condition Number Two: you at least try to sleep all the way through the journey." He's sees Sammy's eyes take on a frightened sheen at that, like a rabbit's eyes in headlights, and feels a stab of guilt jolt through his body. But Dean won't relent; he can't. "You're looking bad, Sam. You need some beauty sleep before you get even uglier."

Sam laughs and it sounds like the song of a rare but beautiful bird.

"Jerk."

"Bitch." The exchange feels good, comforting in its normality. "So, we got a deal?"

Looking at his smiling big brother and then at the headline on his bright laptop screen, Sam doesn't even need to think about his answer. Not really, anyway.

"Yeah. Yeah, we do."

000

A/N: Thank you very much for reading this and I hope you liked it! I know this is kinda short, but the chapters will get longer as the story progresses. I've got it all written out already so I just need to type it up and post it, so I won't leave this story unfinished unless you guys hate it. The next part should be up on Sunday because I'm going camping for the rest of the week.

Thanks again for reading this and please let me know what you think! :D