A/N: I'm writing about eight stories at the moment, so bear with me, but I was listening to Never Grow Up, and I'm not sure why, (probably because I'd just watched Supernatural) But I immediately thought of Sam and Dean. So I wrote a little drabble.
"You look after your brother, alright Dean?"
The little boy nodded, and watched the door close behind his father. He had, over time become accustomed to this. Being left alone while his father went on a hunt.
It was only hours later when Dean checked the clock, and realised it was time to put his brother to bed.
"Come on, Sam." He said, reaching out for the remote to the television so he could turn off whatever his little brother was watching. Sam looked up at Dean, pouting.
His older brother rolled his eyes, "Not gonna work Sam."
Sam reluctantly stood up, and followed Dean into his room.
"But I'm not tired!" He tried, but Dean simply laughed,
"Try telling that to your eyes."
Your little eyelids flutter 'cause you're dreaming,
so I tuck you in, turn on your favourite night light.
Sam's eyes had little dark circles beneath them, and he could barely keep his eyes open, his small eyelids fluttering close together, threatening to close at any moment.
Picking his sibling up, Dean placed him into the bed, pulling the covers up over him, and tucking the sheets in. When he looked up to say goodnight, Sam had already fallen asleep.
Dean smiled, his brother looked so innocent laying there. Sam was aware of what was out in the real world, Dean knew that. But in that moment, he hoped, prayed, that when Sam grew up, he'd never have to see the things he had.
He knew Sam was afraid of the dark, but he also knew that his dad would never have let him leave the light on, but when Sam tossed and turned that night, Dean would deny pretending to forget to turn it off.
To you everything's funny,
You've got nothing to regret. I'd give all I have honey,
If you could stay like that.
Dean stood, looking over his little brother's sleeping figure. His chest was rising and falling with every small breath he took.
He was so small, innocent. He had absolutely nothing to regret.
Not like Dean, who had left the house the night Sam was attacked by that horrible thing.
Not like their Dad, who, with every fiber of his being regretted not being able to save his wife.
Dean would do anything, anything, to make sure that Sam never felt that kind of regret in his life.
Oh darling, don't you ever grow up,
Don't you ever grow up,
Just stay this little
Oh darling, don't you ever grow up,
Don't you ever grow up,
It could stay this simple
Dean was only eight years old, but he'd already been forced to grow up, forced out of his own childhood. But not Sam, he was four years old, and watched those stupid cartoons that Dean never saw the point of, he was silly, and laughed at almost everything, like a kid should.
Maybe it was stupid, but Sam should stay like that forever.
I won't let nobody hurt you,
I won't let no-one break your heart
And no-one will desert you..
Just try to never grow up
Dean remembered all the times his Dad had told him to shoot without hesitation if anything came anywhere near Sam, or if it tried to get in.
He wouldn't ever admit it, but he hated it. Hated the guns, the fights and especially the monsters.
But if standing outside his brothers door with a gun in hand meant Sam wouldn't have to grow up...
He would do it.
Take pictures in your mind of your childhood room,
Memorize what it sounded like when your Dad gets home
Remember the footsteps,
Remember the words said,
and all your older brother's favourite songs.
He wanted Sam to remember the way the door slammed shut, and his Dad's footsteps
would seem to echo through the house when he returned from a hunt, alive and well again.
He wanted him to remember the songs he listened to, everything positive or remotely happy anyone had said to him, he wanted Sam to remember how small his room is.
But one thing he never wanted him to remember was how bad it was outside their door.
Twenty years later, the two siblings had just returned from a hunt, vampires, it was, this time around. They were both soaked in blood, when Sam said something.
"Do you ever wish we'd stayed kids?"
And then Dean remembered that night. How he'd stood by his brothers bed and wished with all his heart that Sam wouldn't ever grow up.
"Yeah."
Wish I'd never grown up...
I wish I'd never grown up.