"Mom!" The five-year-old yelled as he ran around the corner at top speed, a huge grin plastered on his face. "Mom! Dad's gonna eat all the cookies! Make him give me some!" He squealed as he ran into his mother.

She looked down on him, a soft smile lighting up her fair features. Her golden hair fell perfectly over her shoulders as she reached down to pick up her oldest little boy. "Alright, Dean, let's go see if John can spare some cookies for you."

Dean smiled brightly; He loved his mother. She was always there, always listened to him, loved him, made sure he was happy. Even though that's what all mothers do, he felt as if his mom did it the best. He was certain that if there was a contest for the best mother on the planet, she would easily win first place.

She carried him back to the kitchen, stepping around some of the toys and Christmas decorations lying about. "John? Are you hogging all of the cookies again?" She asked her husband sternly, catching him with a cookie hanging out of his mouth.

"No…" He replied, wiping away the crumbs from his mouth and giving Dean a little glare. "You weren't supposed to tell on me!" He griped.

"But you wouldn't let me have any!" Dean whined, taking the cookie his mother had grabbed for him and shoving it in his mouth.

"I think you've had enough, dear." She laughed, her face glowing with contentment. "Now, how about you take Dean outside and start putting up the outside decorations." She suggested, running her hand through her son's short hair.

John nodded and held his hand out for Dean to take; he did. They went outside, after pulling on a few layers so he "wouldn't freeze his tushy off", as his mother had put it.

"So, Deany-boy, what do you wanna put up first?" He knew this was a stupid question because he already knew Dean's favorite decoration.

"The sleigh, Dad! Let's put up the sleigh!" The little boy jumped with excitement, following his father to the shed where he somehow managed to store all of their Christmas decorations.

They managed to free the large sleigh from a pile of lights and began dragging it over to the front of the yard. Dean climbed in, not adding that much extra weight to the already heavy sleigh, and rode it to the annual designated spot for it.

"Alright, get out! We got loads more to put up!' His father instructed, lifting Dean from the sleigh and heading back off for the shed.

They spent the next three hours outside, stringing the lights to the roof, hooking up the light-up reindeer to the sleigh, setting up the fake trees that lit up to the tune of a music box it was connected to.

They stumbled back inside, tired and cold. Dean's sleepy eyes met with his mother sitting on the couch holding his newborn baby brother. Happiness lit up his face as he ran over to little Sammy.

He knelt in front of his mother, looking into her tired eyes for permission to hold him. He was granted it and soon his baby brother was in his arms, fast asleep. He looked so small, so in need of protection, and Dean knew he'd always be there to look out for him. From the moment they brought home the small blue bundle close to six months ago, he knew his job was to be the strong older brother that would protect him from anything that could harm him. He knew that in some way, Sammy was his responsibility, and he had to watch out for him.

"I finally got him to sleep." She yawned, her drowsy eyes showing the effort that had been put into that task.

"I'll take him to his crib, Mom. You should get some sleep." He stood up and she ruffled his hair, his Dad coming into the room now, another cookie in his mouth.

Dean rolled his eyes at him and quietly walked to Sammy's bedroom, laying the helpless baby in his crib, trying not to wake him. Sammy began to stir some, sending Dean into a mode of pure caring.

He shushed his little brother, petting the top of his head soothingly. He fussed a bit more and Dean knew what to do. He took in a breath and sang quietly, slowly. "Carry on my wayward son; there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more." He didn't have to sing any more than that because Sammy was fast asleep again.

A smile inched its way onto his face as he slipped out of the nursery. He headed to his own room, prepared to sleep. He sat on his bed for a moment before throwing back the covers and removing his shirt and jeans, slipping into an old pair of pj's he always wears. For how old they were, it surprised Dean every time he put them on that they still fit him. They had little teddy bears on them and they were his favorite.

He had just slid under the covers when his mother entered his room carrying two steaming mugs in her hands.

"Here, you boys worked hard out there today; have some hot chocolate." She smiled sweetly. He took one of the mugs from her and carefully took a sip. It was hot, but not hot enough to give your mouth a third-degree burn. His mom always made his hot chocolate perfect. It was one of the countless things he loved about her.

"I can't believe you'll be starting preschool this year." She sighed, running her hand through his hair. "It seems that just yesterday I was taking care of you like I am Sammy." She let a sad smile cross her lips briefly, taking a drink to try to hide it. But it was too late; Dean had seen it.

"Mom, you know I'll always be here, right?" He rested his free hand on hers and smiled. "I'll always be your little boy and you know that."

She smiled proudly this time. "Since when did you grow up so much Dean? I mean, soon enough you might have to fight your father for the rights to be the man of the house!" She laughed, bringing a smile back to Dean's face. He loved it when she was happy. Anytime he saw sadness or fear in her eyes, he was filled with rage at whatever had made her feel that way. He never wanted her to be sad or scared ever again, and he was going to be there to make sure.

Soon the cups were empty and Dean was barely keeping his eyes open. He laid down and covered up, snuggling into the blankets for as much warmth as they could give. His mother rested her hand on his head and smiled.

She opened her mouth and began singing 'Hey Jude' softly; her voice was beautiful and soothing, making him instantly relax more. He drifted off as his mother finished, saying that his angel was watching over him. That made him feel even more safe as he fell asleep, thoughts of Christmas dancing in his head.

He awoke the next morning with a smile on his face, knowing that today was the day Bobby was coming over for dinner. Bobby was like an Uncle to him, even though they weren't related in any way. He was his Dad's best friend and he was like family.

It saddened him to think that Bobby's wife wouldn't be joining them anymore now that she had died. Her death snuck up on everyone, even her. She didn't know she had cancer until it was too late, too late to save her. Bobby had to watch her die and you could tell he still wasn't over the shock. It had been an entire year and they hoped he'd snap out of it sooner or later. It looked like it was going to be the latter.

He shook away thoughts of bobby's wife and jumped out of bed to get dressed. Soon fully clothed and well rested, he ran out of his room, practically running into Bobby. It surprised him to see him here this early, but he was happy nonetheless.

"Watch where you're goin', ya idjit." Bobby said, a smile forcing its way onto his lips.

"Bobby!" Dean shouted, hugging him tightly. He picked him up and spun his around a little, clearly glad to see Dean as well.

"Wow, you've grown a lot since the last time I saw you!" He sounded genuinely happy, and that made Dean smile even more.

"It's only been since Thanksgiving, Uncle Bobby!" Dean giggled, squirming out of Bobby's grip.

"So? I'd say you're possibly a whole inch taller!" He grinned, ruffling his hair like his mom does.

"No way!" He refused to believe it. He laughed when Bobby picked him up again, throwing him over his shoulder and taking him back to the living room.

"John, you'll never believe it, but I think that little monster has grown!" He smiled, throwing Dean down on the couch. Dean folded his arms in embarrassment but couldn't keep the smile off of his face; not when Bobby was around.

"Has he now?" John asked, walking up to Dean and giving him a good stare. "Nah, if anything, he's gotten shorter!" John teased, angering little Dean.

"No way I'm shorter! I grew!" Dean grumbled, looking away from his father in false anger.

"Would you boys kindly quiet down?" His mother said, entering the room with a squirmy baby in her arms.

Bobby walked up to her and she handed Sammy over to him. "God, Mary, he's so small. I remember when Dean over there was this size." Dean huffed, the huff going unnoticed by the adults.

"So do I, but now he's my little soldier." She said, shooting Dean a loving smile, filling him with her warmth and causing him to smile again.

"And my little protégé! Soon enough I'll let him start working with me in the garage. I'll teach him everything I know!" He announced proudly.

Dean smiled at the thought of getting to work with his father on something like cars; it could be their thing, the thing that they will have in common even when he gets older.

Mary smiled at her boys proudly and went to the kitchen to begin preparing for supper. Sammy sat in the kitchen with Mary while she cooked and the boys stayed in the living room to watch sports.

They sat by the tv for a few hours, one of them occasionally going to the kitchen to check on the progress of the food. Mary had ushered them out each time, telling them it'd be done soon enough and to be patient.

Within minutes after the last time John checked, Mary called them to the kitchen. "Now boys, set the table and wash up, I'll set out the food." She instructed, beginning to bring out the turkey.

Soon enough, the table was set and ready, each of them in their seats, little Sammy in the high chair by Mary and John. Before they ate, they all held hands to say grace.

"Dear Heavenly Father, bless this food that we are about to eat and bless the ones who eat it. Protect us and guide us, in Jesus name, Amen" (Sorry I'm no good at prayers… This probably wasn't good but I don't usually say grace so I wasn't sure how to go about it.)

They began to dig into their food, Sammy occasionally getting a bite of mashed potatoes.

"This is really good Mom." Dean complimented, shoving more food into his mouth and giving a small "mmm."

"Thanks, sweetie." She smiled, gracefully continuing to eat the food she had piled into her own plate.

It didn't take long for them all to finish up, setting their plates in the sink, rinsing them off some. Bobby and John went back to the living room to continue watching sports and Dean stayed back to help his Mother with cleaning up.

He wrapped up leftovers as she scrubbed the dishes. He put away the plates after she dried them. He wiped down the table as she put away Sammy's high chair. Soon, the kitchen was spotless and she threw her arm over his shoulder.

"Thanks Dean, you didn't have to help." She smiled down at him.

"Yeah, I know, but I wanted to!" He smiled back. She ruffled his hair like she always did, giving him a tight hug afterwards.

"I love you, Dean." She kissed the top of his head. He snuggled closer to her.

"I love you too, Mom."

They joined John and Bobby in the living room, taking their seats. Dean had wanted to hold Sammy so his little brother was lying quietly in his lap. They sat peacefully for a long while, just enjoying each other's company.

When Bobby realized the time, he sat up and stretched, saying how he'd better be on his way.

"Thanks for comin', Bobby." John shook hands with him.

"Come back anytime, you're always welcome here." Mary smiled, pulling him into one of her famous hugs.

"Bye-bye Uncle Bobby!" Dean hugged Bobby tightly. "See you soon!"

"See you guys," he said, opening the front door. "Merry Christmas!" He left, closing the door and stopping the flow of cold air from outside from its invasion into the house.

"Whelp, it's pretty late, boys. Better be heading off to bed." Mary instructed. Dean yawned and slowly made his way back to his bedroom. Once Sammy was taken care of and sleeping, his mom entered his room.

He was already in pj's and under the covers when she came in.

"Sleepy?' She asked, taking a seat on the side of his bed. He nodded in response and snuggled up under the covers. She told him like she did every night that an angel was watching over him before she sang 'Hey Jude' to him again. He knew he'd never grow tired of hearing her sing that to him. Her wonderful voice was so calming and comforting that he liked her version better.

A strange feeling entered his stomach, one that told him something bad was going to happen but he chose to ignore it, drifting off to the sweet sound of his mother's voice.

He awoke with a start, panic rising within him as he heard his mother scream. He jumped out of bed and ran to find her, instinct leading him to the nursery. He was greeted with the awful sight. He saw his mother on the ground, bleeding from her stomach as she cried. A tall dark man exited from the window, blood on his hands. His Dad ran in as the masked man threw in a match, catching the curtains on fire.

His Dad instantly grabbed little Sammy and gave him to Dean. "Dean! Take your brother outside NOW!" He yelled. All Dean could do was nod and follow orders. He ran. He ran outside and took Sammy with him, worry clouding his brain along with the smoke.

When he was freed from the wafting clouds of smoke and breathed in the crisp winter air, he realized what was really happening. The fire was spreading fast, the roof already looking like it was going to cave in.

"DAD! MOM!" He cried, his screams waking up everyone on the block. He wanted to go in and save them, but he knew he had to stay with Sammy, had to keep following orders.

He watched and waited for what seemed like hours when he saw his father exit the front door, flames dancing behind his back, cradling a frail body in his strong arms. Disbelief and horror welled up inside Dean and he felt the need to find the man that had done this and end them… even though he knew he was only five.

"Dad! Is Mom alright? Is she gonna be okay?" Stress and anxiety radiated off of his body.

"Did you call an ambulance?!" His Father screamed at him.

Dean shrunk down; after all, he didn't have a phone yet so how could he have? "No… I-I don't have a phone." He replied meekly, hoping his Father wasn't angry with him.

His Dad grumbled and laid his Mother on the grass, taking his phone out and dialing 911. While his Dad was on the phone, Dean tried to focus on his Mother. She was barely breathing, blood stained all over the front of her dress. Her skin was darkened, no doubt by all the flames and he thought about the fact that she might not make it.

NO. She HAD to make it, she just HAD to. She couldn't leave him. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep without hearing her sweet voice lull him off to dream land. He knew he wouldn't be able to live off of his Dad's cooking. He knew Sammy needed her even more than he did; he didn't want Sammy to grow up without her. He also knew that if she was gone, knowing his Father, he might even have to raise Sammy himself. He wasn't prepared for that.

He mentally slapped himself as his Dad hung up on the paramedics, kneeling down to his Mom. He watched as his Dad held her tightly, trying to hide his tears in her hair; her once clean, beautiful hair that had framed her face in the most elegant way. His Dad held his Mom and he held Sammy; a family that would be forever broken.

Time edged away as the blinding red and blue lights pulled him back to sanity. He watched as they loaded his Mother onto the stretcher and into the back. He held onto Sammy, climbing in the back with his Father who insisted he was fine and that they focused on my Mom. Dean couldn't think straight as he watched them poke at his Mom, sticking things into her arms and holding a mask over her mouth.

He forced himself to focus on Sammy, make him stop crying, make him understand that everything was okay, that Mom would be okay. He held him tight and rocked him, singing softly to calm him. This time he chose to sing 'Hey Jude', disappointed that his version was way worse than his Mom's. Still, Sammy slowly calmed down, falling asleep in his arms.

"You're really good with him." A short woman noted, touching his hand with hers.

He smiled weakly. "Thanks."

She smiled back, "You're a pretty good singer too." She tried her luck at lightening the mood, quickly realizing that it wouldn't work. "Sorry, we'll do everything that we can for your Mother, she seems strong, she should pull through." She tried reassurance.

Dean just nodded, holding Sammy closer to him.

Soon they were in the hospital, emergency doctors taking his Mother from him as other nurses tried to assess the damage done to Dean, Sammy, and their Dad. He and Sam were fine, his Dad had some minor burns and probably some lung issues, but it was clear they were all okay. All except for their Mother.

They were told later that they did all they could but the damage was too great. She would have only hours before she would take in her last gulps of air.

He walked into the cold white room, seeing his Mother on the bed. Somehow, she was conscious, of only barely, but she smiled weakly at him.

"My…. L-li… ttle…. S… ol…dier…." She finally managed.

"Shhhh… Mom don't speak, everything's going to be alright, okay? You're going to be fine and soon you'll be home with us again and cooking and everything will be back to the way it was." He tried to be strong; strong for his Mother, strong for Sammy. He had to hold everything together because he wasn't sure if his Dad would be able to.

She smiled as widely as she could, giving a small nod, agreeing that she'd be home in no time. He smiled weakly back at her as his Dad came into the room. His head was hung low, tears were stained on his face and he looked as though he'd been run over by a truck.

He walked over to her bedside and held her hand, a fake smile plastered on his face, just for her. They sat in silence, there was no need to talk, no need to poison the few precious hours she had left with false hopes and lies.

The hours drug by slowly as her breathing became more forced and ragged. She tried speaking, telling them that she was fine, that she would miss them, that they'd do fine without her. They all knew what she was trying to say wasn't true; there was no way they'd all keep it together after she was gone but he knew they'd have to give it their best shot.

Her final moments were the most painful thing Dean had ever had to endure. She coughed and gasped for air, but it couldn't find its way to her lungs. She gripped John's hand tightly, like she was trying to take some of his air, but it wouldn't come. She struggled, not wanting to give up, but knowing the effort was futile and the pain she was putting herself through to try and stay alive wasn't worth it.

She gasped for the last time and went limp, all life fleeing from her eyes. John, rested his head on her hand and cried. They stayed for another hour, crying and disbelieving, wishing it was all a horrible nightmare and they'd all wake up from it eventually and they'd all be fine before the nurses made them leave. They were informed that the body would be taken to the morgue to await their decisions.

"I want her cremated." His father wasted no time; he clearly wanted to just get it over with.

"Are you sure? If so, I'll go ahead and inform the morgue and-"

"I'm sure." John cut her off. She nodded and scampered away. John turned to Dean and he looked into his Father's eyes. Where there had once been happiness and life, there was nothing. No sparkle, it was cold. His eyes were blank and Dean got the strange feeling he wasn't his father anymore.

"We're renting a motel until I can get an apartment." Was all he said, leaving the room, expecting Dean to follow. He did, staying as close as he could as to not get lost.

He sat down on the motel bed and laid Sammy down next to him. John sat on the other bed and stared at the wall.

"Dad…? Will you be okay? I-"

"NO I WILL NOT BE OKAY, DEAN. I JUST WATCHED THE ONLY WOMAN I EVER LOVED DIE. I HELD HER HAND AS SHE FOUGHT FOR AIR. OF COURSE I'M NOT FUCKING OKAY! I'M NOT SURE IF I'LL EVER BE OKAY AGAIN." He shouted, scaring Dean. He shrinked down, picking up Sammy again now that he had begun to cry. "I'm going out." John got up and left, slamming the door behind him.

Alone and with a crying baby, Dean let the tears come. The tears that he'd wanted to cry when his mom died, the tears he'd wanted to cry when his father stormed out. He'd known this was going to happen, so why did it come as such a surprise?

Dean wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and made himself stop crying. No, he wouldn't cry. He'd put tears behind him. At five years old, he vowed to never cry again, he vowed to be the strong older brother and to never let any more harm come to his baby brother. He vowed to take care of him, leave behind any hopes and dreams and grow up. He promised himself he'd help save up for Sammy's college by working as many jobs as he could manage.

At five years old, Dean became the man of the house, just like his mother said he would.