Dean looked around himself, more nervous than he liked to admit. Dad had a few weeks off between hunts, so he finally agreed to teach Dean to ride a bike. He was excited and anxious, but he would not let his dad see his fear. They didn't have time for training wheels, and Dean already felt behind the other boys in school, so he'd begged Dad to jump straight to a big kid bike. Both Winchester men glanced back at the yard to check on Sam. He was two years old and sat happily on his baby blanket in the shade of a large tree-a tree he didn't realize he was tethered safely to- and played with his toys. Dean felt weird about the baby leash keeping Sammy safely in the yard, but he also remembered just how fast he could get around on those chubby legs these days.

"Okay Son," John began, hands on either side of Dean's small body, "when I push, you need to pedal your feet hard okay? You can do it." Dean nodded, his heart hammering through his chest. John began pushing the bike steadily and Dean pumped his feet, reveling in the feel of wind in his hair and just general freedom. He laughed hard and felt John's hands subtly leaving the seat and suddenly- Dean was doing it! He was riding a bike! He heard John cheering him on, encouraging him the whole way. A bubble of laughter escaped his chest and he pedaled his feet harder.

Dean's joy was cut short, however at a sound that had his heart settling somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes. Sammy screamed out in pain, and Dean jerked his head around, his big brother spidey-senses tingling. His eyes settled on the baby crying in the yard, and he lost his focus for just a second. He wobbled on the bike and crashed to the ground, knees slamming painfully on the pavement. John ran toward Dean and froze in the street, head turning between both of his sons, unsure who to run to first. "Dean! You okay, Son?" John shouted from the street, midway between both boys. Dean wrapped his hands around his leg, blood staining his jeans.

"Dad, I'm fine! Go check on Sammy!" John nodded sharply and dashed to the yard to check on the crying baby. Even though it seemed like everything happened in slow motion, it was only seconds from the time Sammy screamed to the time John had him in his lap. Dean hauled himself to his feet and collected his bike. Brushing himself off, he half walked half jogged as fast as could to the yard, refusing to limp on his injured leg. Finally he reached the yard and Sammy had stopped screaming, but tears steadily leaked from his eyes down his pudgy cheeks. John had the baby cradled in his lap, shushing and comforting him. "Is Sammy okay, Dad?"

"Aw, yeah. He's fine. It looks like an ant crawled up and bit him," John said, showing his eldest son the mark on the baby's hand. An angry red welt had formed on the tender ivory skin.

"Sammy. I'm sorry, buddy." Dean kissed the small hand and Sammy reached his arms out, asking Dean to hold him without a word. John smiled and handed him over, Sam snuggling easily in his brother's lap. Dean smiled into the baby fine curls, and wrapped his arms around him. John glanced down at Dean's leg and rolled up his jeans.

"Jesus, Dean. Are you okay?" John pressed gently on the wounds, assessing the bones and Dean hissed softly at the pain. "Sorry. Let me go grab the first aid kit. Watch Sammy okay? Be right back." John stood and crossed the yard into the house. Dean glanced down at Sammy, now sucking his thumb and contentedly snoozing in his lap. Snuggling closer to the small body, Dean's eyes landed on the baby blanket where the offending ant was still crawling around. Gently, so as not to jostle the baby sleeping in his arms, Dean extended his bleeding leg and crushed the ant under his shoe.

Feeling somewhat vindicated, Dean smiled and whispered in Sammy's ear. "Don't worry, buddy. As long as I'm around, nothing will ever hurt you again. I promise." He wiped the last of Sammy's tears off of his small, round face and remembered that promise for the rest of his life.