Safe In My Arms

o0kaymawn0o

Summary:

Alternate Universe, where Sam doesn't know anything about hunting, as Dean doesn't want him to grow up the way he has. Sam loses his father, and finds out what happened. He wants to help, but Dean refuses. Dean cares about Sam more than anyone in the world, and he'll kill anyone who tries to hurt him. While he battles to keep Sam safe, he must battle the feelings he has for his little brother. He was going to hell, in more ways than one.

Notes:

Kind of on a roll with this whole paring, so I had to start this one, too! Another Dean/Sam, because I'm in love with them. :D

A Good Wife:

Dean had had a rough night. John tracked this shape shifter to Louisiana, after an eye-witness had mentioned that the man who had been put at the scene of the crime had, in fact, died several weeks ago. She watched him die and checked his pulse afterwards to make sure. It wasn't something that the woman ever wanted to relive in her life. Dean and John were sceptical at first. In their line of work, it would be stupid not to be. They had asked a few more questions, just to make sure that she wasn't the one that wasted the guy, and that's how she knew so much about his death. She answered no, of course she didn't, and Dean believed her. John hadn't been so sure at the time, but after the lady cooperated with them – leading the killer to them by using herself as bait, he soon turned around.

The shape shifter had chosen to take the form of a beautiful blonde girl with huge knockers. Dean couldn't help admiring the vessel. John had told him to do his job, and that his job wasn't to sleep with the supernatural. At the time, Dean made a remark that if they all looked like her, why wasn't that his job?

After they got the jump on it, and killed it, John smacked his son on the back of the head. Dean felt that he sort of deserved it for feeling attracted to a creature of some kind. For all he knew, that thing could have originally been a dude, and wouldn't that just be fucking awkward?

Right now, Dean was sleeping.

"Hey, Dean," Sam, his younger brother whispered as he opened the door. He was wearing pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt that was just a little bit too big for him. "Dean, you awake?" the boy continued, ambling in to the room at a slow pace. He was obviously tired, too. But he had been studying for a test that he had to take later today. It was a lot different from the reason his brother was dead to the world at this moment.

Dean didn't flinch, or give any sign that he was awake, so Sam said his name a little louder. Sometimes it was almost impossible to wake his brother up. The guy could sleep through a thunderstorm if he wanted to. Sam placed his knee on the bed and reached for Dean's bare arm. He shoved him gently, expecting the motion to make his brother conscious.

Something must have worked, as Dean mumbled something and rolled over, taking half the covers with him and leaving his back exposed. He was at least wearing sweatpants, so Sam wasn't scarred for life by the action.

"Lazy asshole," Sam muttered over his shoulder, sighing afterwards.

Dean heard it, however. "Watch your mouth, Sammy," he warned sleepily, not really caring. Sam snapped his head in Dean's direction and rolled his eyes. "Don't roll those puppy dog eyes at me, either. You're supposed to respect your elders." He was obviously just messing with the kid now.

"Did you just call yourself old?" Sam asked, hoping it would irritate the man.

It didn't. Dean yawned and stretched out, rising up to a sitting position. He rubbed one eye lazily, trying to sober up from the predetermined lasting effects of sleep. "Maybe. What of it? Was there something you wanted, Sam?" Dean liked talking to his brother and he was fine with him coming in to his room, but he was exhausted from last night's events. He prepared himself for any questions Sam might have about where John and Dean were in the car, on their way to Louisiana, so he could tackle whatever his younger brother threw at him. Dean just couldn't muster up the ability to focus right now or listen to what Sam was saying properly.

"How was the car convention?" Sam finally asked.

Oh, that's right, I said car convention. Well, here goes nothing.

"Fantastic. Saw some nice looking sports cars, a huge-ass mustang, this really cool Bugatti. You know, one of those ones where you look at it and imagine yourself cruising along the highway?" Dean could tell from Sam's smile that he was buying this shit, and that he really knew what he was talking about.

"Sounds good. Did Dad enjoy it?"

"Ha. Dad's more the type to bore everyone with the cars history and shit. Knew more about some of them than the management of the convention!" Sam laughed and nodded his head. That's exactly the type of thing their father would do. Man had more brain than he did brawn, and John knew it better than anybody. "Anything else you wanted to ask me, Sammy?"

"No, uh. I'll see you downstairs." With that, Sam left the room. Dean stared at the door after he left, wondering what that little hesitation was about. He was certain that Sam believed his story. And as much as he hated lying to his brother, it was all he could do to protect him – keep him from this lifestyle that someone of his nature truly wouldn't survive in.

He's innocent. And I'll keep it that way for as long as I live.

Deciding that it was probably time he dragged his ass out of bed, Dean exited the room to go take a shower. It might wake him up a bit.

Showered and fully-clothed, Dean entered the kitchen to Sam chowing down on some egg and toast. "Hey, princess. Save some for the king, now, huh?" Dean teased, snatching some fried toast off of Sam's plate. The brown haired teen clicked his tongue and frowned.

"Hey, dickless, why not make your own food?" Dean just grinned as he bit into a slice of toast, making weird faces as he did what he thought was making it seem like he was enjoying the food more.

"Now why would I do that when I have you to do it for me?" He inquired honestly. Sam rolled his eyes again and continued to eat his breakfast, briefly scanning over some revision material. Dean was happy that his brother was working towards something – a normal life. He'll meet a nice girl and have some kids, and he'll be somebody. Maybe a kickass lawyer or a doctor, or something equally impressive. Dean wanted his brother to succeed more than anything. However, he also never wanted him to be far enough away that he can't be there to protect him. The situation was kind of like a two-sided coin.

Sam swallows some egg before replying. "Whatever. I'm at the top of my class at the moment. I have this one final test for AP Chemistry this afternoon. Last time, Nathan got the top score, but I've been working my ass off to win this time." This didn't come as a surprise to Dean. His brother was such a bookworm it was almost embarrassing.

"Well, let's face the facts here, Sammy. You inherited more from our mom. What, with the pretty face and puppy dog eyes – the brains. You'll make some rich guy very happy someday," he replied, a cocky smirk on his face as he winked expectantly.

"Oh, haha. You're hilarious, Dean."

"I do try for you, honey."

"Would you shut up?" Sam almost pleaded, trying to ignore this man that was his brother and focus on his studying instead.

Dean barked a laugh. "Sorry, Sammy, I just can't control myself around you." He was just being an ass now because it was fun to mess around with the younger Winchester. He got flustered so easily, it was hard not to take the piss.

"Right, well I have to get to school, so I'll see you later, asshole." Sam closes the back and forth with that statement and grabs his bag. He throws it over his shoulder and takes his keys off the holder as he leaves for his car.

What would I do for fun around here without Sammy?

Sometimes it just couldn't be helped. Dean loved winding his brother up by saying things related to him marrying a man and being a housewife. Sam took care of John and Dean all the time. If either of them were sick, he would make them soup and check their temperature, even make sure they were comfortable. So it wasn't crazy for Dean to make jokes about the guy being a great wife.

That was one of the things that Dean loved about his brother the most. He was right there when you needed him, with food or some poor attempt to make you smile by telling a joke, which he could never remember, and that's why it was funny. Dean would look after Sam if he were in the same situation, obviously, he just wasn't as great at the whole cooking stuff and all that jazz.

John and Dean would be hopeless without their Sammy.

"Dean, we've got another one," John announced as he walked into the kitchen, already looking prepared for a road trip.

"Yeah? What is it?" Dean gestured to his father's journal. John set it down on the table and pointed to a section with the headline, "Couple Found Dead In House – No Signs of a Break In. People Are Calling It The Phantom Murder." After his eyes were done scanning the page, Dean looked at his father with an unreadable expression.

John scowled. "Seems like our kind of thing, doesn't it? Mary called me and said mysterious deaths have been happening in Kansas. I searched it on the internet and found this article immediately. Go check we have everything, Dean. We leave in five."

"Yes, sir."

The car was up and running at full power, rocketing down the open roads, on its way to Kansas. Dean loved the purr of the engine. He couldn't help being grateful that John let him drive most, if not all of the time, as the older Winchester liked to go over his journal and scour for connections leading up to the mysterious deaths.

Dean was in his element; one hand on the steering wheel, one resting against the open window, letting the even air into the car. The first time he drove the Impala, he was sixteen. John had illegally taught him a few years before, with a car that they won at a competition. It was just a rusty old thing, but it was the first car Dean drove, and he respected it. The rust bucket didn't even begin to compare to the black beauty that he cherished now, however it served its purpose. Dean was quite the natural when it came to driving, and it wasn't long before he was a true master. John was proud when his thirteen year old son drove his first car down the open highway and instigated a beautiful parallel park. Luckily for them, the roads were empty at the time, so no one reported an underage driver shooting down the asphalt.

He remembered this one time when they were hunting a demon that had possessed this scrappy looking man. They were chasing it down the street, when it dived through a car window and hot-wired the vehicle in breakneck speed. Dean had honestly been impressed, and made a comment that he guessed you learn a couple of neat tricks when you've lived for that long. John had scolded him briefly and told him to lead by the example set and follow the demon. Without question, Dean broke into the nearest car and hotwired it, perhaps not as quickly as the thing they were chasing, but fast enough. In seconds flat, he was pulling out of the parking space and burning rubber to catch that sorry bastard.

Several turns later, Dean was starting to catch up to the demon. He had cruised these streets enough time in his life to be able to get the upper-hand in a car chase, and that thing was starting to realise its mistake. The demon abruptly stopped at a red light and dived out of the car, sprinting for the nearest house. Dean had called it a son of a bitch and announced that it wasn't getting away that easily, and made a quick decision to floor it, almost swerving out of control. If his father hadn't been such a strict teacher when passing on his skills of driving, Dean never would have been able to perform that illegal U-turn and collide with the demon, forcing it up against a tree. He heard the cracking of the man's bones the demon had overtaken – he would have been furious with himself, had he not seen the demon lay waste to the man's life before the possession.

Nevertheless, that was definitely in Dean's top-ten car chases of all time. It was odd how many he's experienced in his lifetime already. Then again, it kind of came with his job description. Demons, especially, didn't like to get caught, just like avenging spirits. And, as far as speed went, cars were just a faster getaway than running. They might be stronger than the average, strength-obsessed man, but the vessels legs could only run so fast. That was the reality for them.

"Take the next right, Dean," John instructed, and Dean complied, ending up on a street with very suburban looking houses. Dean never really enjoyed spending time in homes like these ones. It was too real for him; too traditional, like a close-nit-eat-dinner-and-pray-every-day sort of family lived there. He couldn't imagine that ever being the Winchester's.

John said to pull in to number thirty-seven, and Dean did so before taking the key out of the ignition and stepping out of the car. John led the way to the door and knocked twice, taking a step back for breathing space. Running a hand through his dirt-blonde hair, Dean cleared his throat and put on a charming smile when Mary opened the door. She was an older gal, around his father's age, although her age wasn't as apparent on her face. She's definitely done well for herself, Dean will say that.

"John, it's so good to see you. I wasn't sure when you were going to turn up, but I can go get you boys some sandwiches?" Mary opened the door wider and invited the Winchester's into her home, which Dean was quick to lie about and compliment. "Oh, thank you! It was my mother's home before she passed. I've taken care of it and made sure everything is how it always was." Dean felt bad for the lady when her eyes clearly showed her sadness. He wanted to nudge John into comforting her, but he knew his father wouldn't go for it. His late mother was called Mary, so that would just make things complicated.

John took a seat at the table in the kitchen and put on a concerned face. "So, Mary, you said that mysterious deaths have been occurring? What exactly is it that makes it so to you? I know you also mentioned that the News Papers described it as a phantom murder, but it would really help If you could shed some light on the details," the older Winchester rubbed his beard when he was done and accepted the drink offered to him by the slightly startled woman.

She handed a drink to Dean, too, before she started. "Yes, it was all over the news. People are starting to become paranoid, upgrading their security to the best money can buy. That isn't going to help them, though. This killer, whatever it may be, leaves no evidence of a break in whatsoever. It's as if they go through the walls or something," Mary paused to take a breather and clench her fist around the necklace her mother left for her in the will. "It's evil. I can feel it. It wants something, but I have no idea. I'm just… I'm too scared to leave my house right now because the last death was only two doors down from where I live, you know?" Dean and John understood completely. If they were being honest, they were surprised she even opened the door to them if this were the case.

"Did all the deaths happen on this street?" Dean asked tentatively. The woman nodded her head, almost on the brink of tears. John turned his attention to Dean and cocked his head in Mary's direction. He understood what he had to do, and it honestly didn't feel like a request. Everyone needed consoling once in a while. So, Dean got up from his seat and pulled Mary into a hug. She was quick to hold on tight, letting every tear drop onto his jacket. "Don't you worry, Mary, okay? Me and my dad are gonna find whatever this is and keep everyone safe."

"Th-thank you," she whispered so quietly that he nearly missed it.

Mary gave them the locations of all the deaths and they left immediately to start looking for tracks. At the first house, it was exactly as Mary described. It looked like someone or something just came through the walls. The security this man had was off the charts. John explained to Dean that it was one of the most advanced pieces of technology designed for security in the world today. Dean thought the guy was absolutely loaded. He wouldn't have minded having that sort of money, to be able to afford that sort of thing. That would be a dream come true in his book.

They moved on to the second victim, and it was pretty much the same thing. There was blood all over the floor and the walls. Except this time, it looked like the victim tried to put up a fight, reach for the phone and call the police. This meant that they had to at least be able to see whatever it was that had been attacking them at the time. After tracing the start of the attack to the bedroom, John and Dean found themselves at the most recent victim's house. It was the same again, blood enveloping the room. However, this time, Dean noticed something.

"Hey, Dad, have you noticed how each of the victims attacks started off in their bedrooms, and how if you look closely at the sheets, it's the same image made from their blood every time?" John frowned and observed what his son was talking about. He thought back to the other houses, and what the state of the sheets looked like. Now that he thought about it, Dean was right. Each time, an image with similar features to a broken heart would be left on the sheets of the bed. "And, each victim was a well off man. I think we might just be dealing with a vengeful lady spirit out to get some guys that used her with money." Dean's smirk said it all. He knew he was right.

John grinned. "I think you might be right, Dean. But, there's something that connects these murders to Mary. What that is, I'm not sure of. I think we need to question her a little more to get the full story on this. Wipe your prints so we don't get any cops coming after us, then we'll head over. Understand?" Dean tips his head and takes out a cloth from his pocket, wiping down everything he touched in the house. He was used to doing this now, so it didn't take him long before they were both back in the Impala, on their way to Mary's.

The chemistry test had long since been over for Sam. Now he was just sitting there waiting for everyone else to catch up. There was something that he couldn't seem to get off his mind, though. Earlier when he went to wake up his older brother, he noticed something on his skin that he had never seen before. It was a deep, marking of the skin. If he were to label it something, he would say it were a scratch – a very deep, jagged scratch out of a werewolf movie. It looked painful, but Dean didn't draw any attention towards it whatsoever. Sam just didn't understand how he had never noticed it before. There was no way Dean could have acquired a wound that deep from a car convention. He's seen Dean get shot down by some feisty women for being an over-confident asshole before, but nails can only piece the skins so much.

To Sam, the wound looked fresh as well. Dean must have cleaned it off in the shower when he got home. Could a dog have caused something like that? Or maybe Dean was attacked by a bobcat. His brother never was a fan of the feline. Animals, in general, weren't exactly his thing. He complained that all they do is eat and shit and make mess that we, as humans, are responsible for cleaning up. Sam found it funny at the time, but truthfully he did want a cat or a dog. Something that could keep him company when Dean and his father were on road trips to all such events.

Sam wondered what it would be like to go on a road trip with the other Winchester's. He couldn't, though. He was too busy with school and working hard to be the best that he could be. Dean always told him to focus on his studies, anyway – to do what he does, and Dean and John will do what they do. Still, he couldn't help feeling a little sad Dean wouldn't even consider the idea of taking Sam with them every once in a while. It should be up to their father, but whenever Sam mentions it to John, he tells him to ask his brother. Dean never says yes. It's a resounding no all the time.

There wasn't much else for Sam to do at home other than study. Sure, he was allowed to have friends over and girls, but there were no sources of entertainment for them to play with, apart from each other. Sam blushed a little at that thought. There was this one girl that he was kind of lusting after. He didn't possess the same charm that his older brother did, so he wasn't sure how to talk to the girl. She was really pretty and nice to him, but he wasn't sure if that meant she was attracted to him.

Oh, well. Sam will just have to suck it up and ask for his brother's help on this one. Sam gave the classroom a once over and noticed that everyone was nearing completion now. They should be, as it was almost end of class. Sam often wondered why so many of his classmates took so much time to answer one question. If they don't know the answer, they should just move on to the next one, and go back to the ones they struggled with at the end of the test, so there isn't too much pressure on them.

"Okay, students, pens down, the test is now over – please place your papers in the box at the front." Everyone did as they were told, some chattering amongst themselves about how well they think they did. Sam could care less about discussing the test now that it was over. He just wanted to grab a bite to each and head to his group of friends.

"Hey, Sam," Jessica, the girl Sam was kind of pining after said as she walked up to him. Sam cleared his throat and attempted a charming smile, asking her what was up. "Nothing, nothing. You looked like you were zoning out during the test, and I just wanted to know if everything is okay with you?" She smiled reassuringly up at him and he smiled sincerely back.

"Yeah, sure. Everything is fine. I was just thinking about the test and the grade I'm hoping for!" Sam lied easily, using the eyes he was born with to his advantage. Jessica bought what he was saying and said she would see him around before leaving the classroom. San couldn't help the stupid grin on his face if he tried.

After questioning Mary some more, Dean and John found out that Mary had a younger sister she wasn't telling them about. They asked where she was and found out that Susan Chowdery was murdered three months ago, around the time the killings started happening. John was careful when he relayed the information that what they were dealing with was the vengeful spirit of her younger sister, and Mary broke down crying immediately. Dean consoled her once more, explaining that they were going to put her spirit to rest – all they needed was the location of her remains and for Mary to distract her long enough for them to burn the corpse.

Mary was willing to cooperate. Now, they found themselves at the local graveyard, preparing for the battle against the vengeful spirit. "Susan? Are you here? It's your sister, Mary… I-I miss you. Please? Come out and see me?" Mary's sincere words must have worked on the spirit, as she came out of hiding almost immediately, looking at Mary through blood-mattered hair.

The older sister clasped her hands together and started tearing up. Dean made the decision to take care of this quickly, so that Mary wouldn't have to suffer any more pain. His shotgun was already loaded with rock salt, just in case the spirit turned on them when they made a move for her grave. Dean focused his eyes to where Susan was currently standing, pinpointing the location of her grave. He signalled for Mary to try and draw Susan away from where she was.

John watched his son from behind a tree, thoroughly surprised at how good Dean has gotten over the years. Not only did he make the connection between the murders, but he's been pulling the strings practically since they searched the houses. While John didn't like that he wasn't the one to figure it out first, he was certainly proud of the man he raised. John knew that when his time came, Dean could handle the family business and protect Sammy with no problems at all. That, he was confident about.

Mary managed to lure Susan away from the grave. They were now hugging in the middle of the graveyard. Dean would think it were a sweet moment if he wasn't currently digging his way down to a rotting corpse right now. It wasn't long before Dean reached the casket. He pried it open quickly and called for his dad to grab the salt and the fuel.

The spirit was starting to feel something was up, and it looked around, spotting the mud from her burial ground piled into several hills of earth. She growled throatily, preparing to charge over there and kill the person responsible. She couldn't, however, as her sister wrapped her arms around and told her that she had to move on. She had her revenge now; she can truly be at peace. Mary also threw in how much it was breaking her heart to see her innocent little sister ready to murder someone that was trying to help her at the drop of a hat. Susan seemed to understand. She smiled at her older sister, just as Dean lit the match and dropped it onto the fuel-covered remains of her body. Mary sobbed when she saw her little sister's spirit starting to disappear. But they were happy tears this time. Her sister would be at peace, and that was all that mattered to her.

"I-I really can't thank you two enough…" She half yells from her spot in the graveyard.

John smirks. "No need to thank us, Mary."

"Yeah. Seeing you happy is what makes this job worth it."

It's late when the two Winchester's finally return home. Dean spotted a flashing light in the living room and thought that Sam must have been watching the TV or something. The news was on when they entered the living room, where Sam was passed out on the sofa, legs tucked uncomfortably against the armrest and body halfway across the sofa. Dean smiled at the sight. His eyes found a finished plate of some sort and he quickly went to the kitchen, where he discovered a note on the table in Sammy's handwriting.

It read: Hey, Dad, Dean, your dinner is in the oven. Sorry I couldn't do much for you guys, I had a paper to revise for. Nevertheless, I hope it's okay. Dean smiled at the note, calling up the stairs to John that Sam made dinner and it's in the oven. Dean took his dinner from the oven and placed it into the microwave to heat up first. Once it was hot enough, he made his way back to the living room and took the seat next to Sam, relaxing into the sofa after a hard day of hunting.

His taste buds exploded when he took his first bite of the delicious food and he rumbled a laugh. "Damn, Sammy, you sure would make a good wife."

Notes:

This one is going to be quite angsty... So, yeah, you've been initially warned.