-1Mary had just put the baby down a few minutes ago when her mother's senses began telling her that something was wrong. The lights flickered; the baby monitor crackled.
She entered the nursery and a dark, indistinct figure turned around to meet her, two pinpricks of sickly yellow light where eyes might have been. "Mary." It grinned a Cheshire Cat grin, teeth sharp. "Sorry I'm late."
She couldn't even scream.
The three men sat on the trunk of the Impala, watching their house burn down, wife and mother in it. John was numb, in shock. Dean pretended stoicism, though his eyes were shining with unshed tears. Sammy, confused, was clinging to Dean's sleeve and sniffling.
Baby Sarai sniffled and squirmed in John's arms, seeking Mommy who wasn't there. He rocked her and soothed her as well as he could. "Shh, princess, Daddy's here," he murmured, cradling the youngest Winchester carefully.
"Daddy?" Sammy asked, quietly, around his sniffles. "There was something bad in there, wasn't there? Was it after Sarai?"
John glanced around to see if anyone might be able to hear, not wanting them to accuse his son - or him - of seeing things. "I'm not sure, son," he replied in low tones. "I want to find out, though."
Sam gazed solemnly down at his sister. "I don't want anything to hurt her…"
Dean crouched slightly to meet his little brother's eyes. "You'll protect her, won't you, Sammy? And I'll protect both of you." He carefully enveloped his little brother in a comforting hug. "Nothing is going to hurt either of you."
Sam nodded from where he was burrowed under Dean's arm. "Right. Nothing will hurt her. Not ever!"
Her first memories are hazy, drifting in and out of her mind like will o' the wisps, and she can never quite keep up. She couldn't have been more than three, and she remembers little snatches of conversation. Dad's voice, pained, you look like your mother, so much like Mary. Little princess, the only piece of his queen he has left. The voices of strangers, disapproving, calling her that child or that poor thing, and how terrible it must be for her to not have a mother and no wonder she acts like a little boy, with no female role model. She needs more female friends to teach her how to be ladylike.
She doesn't think it's terrible. She misses Mom, of course, though she doesn't remember her. Wishes she had a mother, of course. But Dean and Sam are fun and Daddy loves her and they raised her good. Dean teaches her how to shoot and calls her Mouse cause she's so quiet, and Sam helps her with her homework when she needs it and keeps Dean from killing anyone who looks at her funny. Course, she knows that Sam's the really dangerous one. If anyone threatened her for real Sam'd like…bite off their arm or something. Not that Dean wouldn't help. Dean would hold them down.
Next to the Winchester men, she's tiny. She's not exactly small for an eight year old, and she'll probably near six feet when she's older, but she's thin and lean and still much younger than the boys. She looks ridiculous next to them, she knows from seeing photos, and she hates it. She sticks out, when all she really wants is to be just like her brothers. She spends a year copying everything Dean does. She picks up playing tackle football with the local organization because Dean's playing on his high school team. It lasts until she breaks her arm and has to sit out a hunt. She hates being left home alone or with Sam to baby sit and it makes her feel less like them than before.
She's ten and walking home from school and a strange man walks up to her. She tries to edge away but then he grabs her arms and she can't get to the knife strapped to her leg. She uses all the dirty fighting tricks Dean taught her but he's bigger and stronger and won't let go, so she screams like Sam told her to if anything like this ever happened.
She's barely let the sound escape when Sam appears and levels a gun at the man's head; Dean's seconds behind him, taking his place opposite Sam.
"Let. Her. Go," Dean growls, and she's free and scrambling for her knife, just in case.
Sam pistol whips the guy in a way designed specifically to knock him out; Dean finds some rope in his backpack and ties the guy up and leave him there. Dean calls the police to come and get him.
"I'm sorry," she sniffles, and clings to Sam's hand.
His eyebrows go up and he scoops her up. "What are you sorry for, Princess?"
"I couldn't get him to let me go." She buries her face against his shoulder.
"It's okay," Dean says, gruffly. "We got your back."
Sam smiles and strokes her hair. "We're here to protect you."
"Psst." Sarai sticks her head out of her bedroom in the apartment, more glad she had her own room at the moment. Dad gets the master bedroom. Dean and Sam share the pull out sofa in the living room. And as the only girl, she gets her own bedroom, because Dad thinks she needs her privacy. Whatever - she normally doesn't care, but right now the separate bedroom is coming in useful.
Sam glances over at the noise and carefully removes Dean's feet from Sam's lap, where Dean had put them to annoy his brother ("they smell, Dean"), trying not to wake him. He slips into her room and she crosses her fingers that Dean won't wake up.
"How do I look?" She does a little twirl for Sam.
"You look great, kiddo. I'd take a picture if we were picture people." He grins and mimes fluffing her hair, making sure not to touch the styled hairdo. "And also, if Dean wouldn't get homicidal if he ever saw it."
She chuckles a little. "I assume you want to threaten my date?"
"Of course." Sam smiles.
They're interrupted by the door swinging open. Dean blinks, and then looks murderous. "What do you think you're doing?" he asks, pointing a finger at her.
Oops. Gig is up. "I'm going to homecoming," she says, mumbling a little. "This guy…Anthony…he's a junior and he asked me."
Dean turns. "No older boy is going to get lucky with my little sister. Fourteen is way too young for sex."
Sam laughs and grabs Dean's arm. "Dean, where are you going? You don't know who this guy is, and anyway, you can't go kill him. He's just taking her to the dance."
"Yeah, so he can have sex with her. I know what he's thinking! Look at what she's wearing!"
"Clearly we know what you're thinking," Sam says, still amused. Sarai stands back and lets Sam handle this one for her. "And it's fashionable not to wear sleeves. It's not a huge deal."
"Oh, and you weren't thinking it when you went to homecoming with that girl last year in that tight little dress?"
"We're not all giant horndogs, Dean," Sam replies, slightly irritable now. "Sarai, are you packing?"
She grins, pulls a gun. "Of course. Don't worry, nothing will happen." That I don't want to, she adds mentally.
"Use a condom," Sam teases.
"No sex!" Dean says, smacking Sam. Hard. "Ever!" he adds over Sam's yelp.
"You have sex," she points out.
"I can't get pregnant!"
Sam mouths 'lost cause' at her over Dean's head. She nods the tiniest bit and drops it.
"I'm going to get my gun," Dean grumbles, tromping off in that direction.
"What are you going to do, be the redneck dad and threaten the poor guy?" Sam's laughing as if this is the funniest thing he's ever heard. "Come on, Dean, let's go play poker." She can hear them moving into the kitchen at Sam's behest and she relaxes and goes out front to wait for her date.
Sam sticks his head out a few minutes later, probably in a moment where Dean's mixing drinks or something. "Take care of yourself and kick some ass if you need to. And in all seriousness, don't have sex." He flashed her a smile. "I've managed this long." He bends down and kissed her forehead and then disappears back inside.
Sam leaves just after she's fifteen and Dean starts acting like a jackass, ignoring her at best and being downright cruel at worst. She's mad at Dean, madder at Sam. Neither of them is there for her. And of course Dad, who's only present half the time at best, is even more absent. She wants to do something to get back at both of them.
She takes her fake ID down to the local bar and the bartender looks at her a little funny, but she's tall and looks older than her age, and a pretty face goes a long way.
It doesn't take her long to find a guy who's willing to take her home.
Far too short a time later, she's trembling and hurt and afraid because that really really hurt. He was too rough and worse, apathetic, and she was too uncertain and meek and didn't tell him to stop when she should have, when she first realized this was a stupid idea.
She's shaking when she finds her way back to the apartment, barely managing to not be sick, scared she's still bleeding but more afraid to look and find out she is. She's scared to tell Dean, now, because he's going to be pissed and yell at her and she doesn't know if she can take his disapproval right now.
But.
She needs him more.
He's asleep on the bed in the living room, and she crawls under the covers with him, pressing up to his side.
He blinks as he comes awake, looking confused to find his crying sister in bed with him. "Mousey? What's wrong?" His hand fumbles a little, as if his brain's still not quite awake enough to be attached to his movements, and then settles in her hair.
"I did …" she sniffles, trying not to have an all out breakdown. "I did something stupid and I'm scared."
He sits up and props his back up against the back of the sofa, drawing her into his arms. "Shhh, it's okay." She doesn't know what he's thinking but he seems more concerned than angry so far. He's not pushing her to tell him what it is and that helps trigger it, and the story comes spilling out.
He holds her and thank god doesn't yell, though he looks worried as hell. "Okay," he says when she's finished, and he's probably trying to collect himself. "Okay. Bleeding a little is…normal, but in a few minutes I need to go check and make sure it's stopped, okay?" She nods a little, burying her face against his chest because she can't take quite so much open concern, not when she was so stupid.
"You used a condom, right?" She can practically hear his thoughts: please please please tell me she used a condom. She nods, confirming, and he relaxes the tiniest bit. "All right. Good. Everything's gonna be okay," he sooths.
"It's…Dean, why do people do that? It…it sucked. So much."
He sighed. "Oh, honey. It doesn't suck all the time. I promise. Not with someone who cares enough to make it good." He was quiet for a moment. "Now what was the fucker's name so I can kick his ass in the morning?"
She laughed, and if it was a little forced, at least it was still a laugh. "Thanks, Dean."
She fell asleep there. Neither of them was over Sam leaving, but Dean was better after that. A little more like his old self, and if he had to try, well, neither of them said anything about it.
Dean and Sam were arguing, just within earshot. Sarai was waiting in the car while Dean went in to get Sam.
"You have to come, Sam. I need help. Sarai's not old enough."
Sarai cracked the door. "Fuck you, Dean, I'm sixteen."
She could hear the smirk in Dean's voice. "Right, she's sixteen. I stand corrected. You remember what you were like at sixteen. Kinda wangsty and utterly useless." His voice grew lower, though she could still catch the conversation. She was sure Dean didn't realize it, though. "Sam, you promised to look after her. D'you know how she felt when you left?" Sarai slouched lower in her seat, sulking. Admittedly what Dean meant was that when Sam left, Dean had been the one who felt betrayed. And, okay, maybe she was a little hurt, too. Not as much as Dean, though.
She heard Sam sigh. "…Fine. I'll come."
The sound of Dean's boots thumped towards the car and then he was leaning down to peer in the window. "In back, Mouse," he said, jerking his thumb at her. "Brother long legs here needs the front seat to stretch."
She scowled. "I always have to sit in back."
Sam was right behind him and her heart lurched a little and she shook her head against the sting of tears. "Hey, kiddo. You know he's right, though." He smiled apologetically.
She huffed and climbed in back, though she dragged her shoes with the clumps of mud clinging to them across the upholstery to let them know she wasn't happy about it. Dean grunted a little but refrained from comment. Smart boy.
Three days later, she had to put her own hurt aside. She and Dean stood on either side of Sam, watching the apartment burn.
"You all right?" Dean asked.
"We've got work to do," Sam muttered, rummaging in the trunk.
Dean smirked. "Let's roll."
Sarai sighed. Dean was such a fuckhead sometimes. Dean already had the engine stared when she manhandled Sam into the back. He put up a token resistance, not sure what the hell she was doing, but he really didn't have much heart to fight her. Her eyes met Dean's in the rearview and she nodded; he pulled out, already heading towards the highway.
Sarai pulled her brother into a hug and didn't let him go.
She was seventeen when her whole world changed. She heard the demon say that it was Sam, it had been Sam all along that he was after. Maybe that was a little bit of a relief to her. And maybe she felt a little guilty about wanting to put it all on Sam's shoulders, but she knew Sam had sworn to always protect her, and he would have willingly taken this on if it was a matter of choice. And maybe, just maybe, it was her turn to stand with Dean and protect their brother from evil.