Sammy was three and crying, a full diaper and an empty stomach. Dean was seven years old and just trying to watch one episode of Spongebob before Sam had a fit. Guess that dream was shot to hell.
" Aw, Sammy, c'mon. Can't I have thirty minutes please?" Dean non the less picked up his poopy brother and sighed, laying him down on a trash bag on the floor. He hated changing his brother's diapers, but it's their father gone so often, it had to be done. Sammy's little face was screwed up and almost purple, shrieks coming from the tiny, if a little chubby, boy. " Hey, c'mon now don't cry. Hush little Sammy don't you cry, big brother Dean is gonna make it all fine. And I will protect you and take care of you, please baby brother don't you cry." Dean half spoke, half sang as he wiped, creamed and powdered his little brother's butt, carefully to make sure there would be no diaper rash.
He carried heavy little Sammy to he chair, turned on Nick Jr. a channel he, as a big boy, detested, and rocked with Sammy, attempting to feed him cheerios out of a plastic bowel. Sammy ate most of them, settled into Dean's lap with a cup of juice, and got totally absorbed in the TV.
Dean was silently groaning and whining in his head, rocking until till his brother was asleep, fat hand wrapped around Dean's finger.
So, having a baby brother wasn't so bad. Dean loved Sam fiercely and would do anything to protect his brother, even go to Hell for him. He fell asleep with Sammy in his lap, warm and safe, with a happy smile and the promise of tomorrow being brighter.