small one shot ive been working on at school when I get the chance. don't want to give too much away, but im working on something big as well. like, HUGE.

I own nothing but the plot

sam is older than dean.

SAM'S POV

I unlock the door, pushing my way inside. Hunting truly did suck some days more than others. Today was one of those days. Not only did I have to go on a hunt on this day, but alone?! I may be seventeen, but I'd still like some back up when I'm out there. Dad can be crazy when it comes to these 'safe' game plays he comes up with.

I open the door, stepping over the ledge and dropping my bag. I see Dean, head down while he does the routine. Clean guns, check ammo, the works. I sit across from him on the opposite bed, grabbing a gun and checking it over. I can hear dad walking around somewhere the motel, and it isn't long before he shuffles out of the bathroom, slinging a small bag over his shoulders. I tense slightly, and I see Dean do the same. I know what he's capable of. Sadly, Dean knows better than me.

"Be back later," he grounds out, and is slamming the door behind him before either of us could state our thoughts or opinions on the matter. I roll my eyes, huffing out a breath as I turn back to the guns. Dean's head is still down when he breaks the silence.

"How'd the hunt go?" I look at him, but his head is still bowed, hands still working over the guns. I grin nonetheless.

"Great! Got it done and done, in and out," I can just make out a grin on his hidden features.

"Nice; good job, Sam," I smile; he always says it after a hunt, but it fells good to hear anyways.

"Thanks," I pause, just taking him in for a moment or two. He's usually more active than this. Right now he's sitting down, head laid low, moving hesitant like, slowly. It puts a sinking feeling into my gut. I manage to catch a glimpse of his face when he turns, and when he stands and turns his back, I'm there. I grab his shoulder, spinning him back around to face me. I suck in a gasp, and bite my lip to silence it. He ha a black eye, split lip, and a cut on his forehead. He did it again. The bastard did it again.

"The fucker," I hiss, eyes and body filling with rage. I notice my little brother's eyes fill with fear, and I let my eyes soften. I reach up, with both hands, to cradle his face. I gently trace where purple-black meets light tan of under his eyes with my thumb. I feel my heart clench when he flinches. His eyes close, so I try to ease up.

"Dean," I say gently, and his eyes open to look at me, before going downcast.

"M sorry,' he whispers, and I shake my head, lifting his back up.

"Don't be, Dean," I put my hand over his mouth when he opens it to object again.

"No, listen to me; that -this- is NOT okay," I say, gesturing to his injuries.

"Fathers shouldn't abuse their kids, Kiddo, you don't deserve this," he looks up at me, eyes broken and dull. "But, dad said-" I cut him off, shaking my head again.

"Dad can go fuck himself for all I care," I sigh, some anger being released. For now.

"Just let me take care of John, okay?" Dean seems hesitant, but nods his head. I smile softly at him, squeezing his shoulder. "Good, now let's relax then, yeah?" he smiles, nodding more enthusiastically this time. I grin, picking up the guns and setting them on the table. They can wait. Once they're all off the beds, and the room is cleared of all and everything related to hunting, I grab my duffle, grabbing a small present from it. I smile, turning back to Dean and tossing it to him. He catches it, before looking at it in confusion. I swear my heart broke a little more right then and there. When he still doesn't get it, and all he does is stare at it some more, I cant take it.

I quickly walk over, wrapping my arms around him. He sucks in a breath of surprise, and tenses slightly. Dean quickly relaxes when he realizes it's me, and looks up at me, raising an eyebrow.

"Dean, you really don't know what today is?" I pray for the answer to be, 'just kidding', or 'gotcha!'. But all he does is shake his head, no. I take out my phone, silently showing him the date. January 24th. His eyes go wide suddenly as he sucks in a gasp threatening to escape. He looks to me, then back to the date displayed.

"Oh," he says softly, and I nod, smiling sadly. "Yeah, 'oh'," I ruffle his hair, guiding him towards the bed. I sit him down, handing the present back to him. "Open it, Dean,"

I bite my lip, plopping down the other mattress, watching him. He glances at me, before ripping it open. I know the exact moment he comprehends what it is, because he snaps his gaze up to me, before looking back to the movie I bought him. He looks at me again, and I grin.

"Are you serious?" I nod, smirking.

"Do you like it?" I ask, biting my lip in the tension. He looks at me as if I've lost it.

"Do... do I?" he laughs, and my heart warms at the sight and sound of it. He tackles me into a hug, and I shut my eyes; content to hold him in my arms, forever if I could. Then I'd know he'd be safe. My contentment is ruined shortly after, however, when Dean pulls away slightly, to be able to look at me.

"I've been wanting to see this since it came out in theatres!" he exclaims, and I laugh, my hands settling on his back.

"I know, and then I saw it on that last hunt, so I just thought..." I shrug, laughing when he hugs me again.

"Well? Whad'ya say we watch it?" I ask, and he nods, jumping up and turning off the lights, putting in the movie.

I head to the kitchen, grabbing sodas from the fridge, and store-bought popcorn from the cabinet. I set the drinks down on the counter, and rip open the popcorn bag, dumping almost all of it into a bowl. I shut off of the oven light, grabbing the cans with one hand and the bowl with the other. I walk back to Dean, who's lying back against the headboard of the bed, reading the back of the movie box. He looks up at me and smiles, moving over so there's room for me to sit next to him. I smile, handing him a beverage, before plopping down next to him on the lumpy motel mattress. I put the bowl full of popcorn in between us, and lean over, turning the last light out until we're consumed in the darkness; only the TV screen illuminating the room.

Dean presses a button on the remote, and the movie starts soon after.

"Mutation..." Dean grins, and I smile softly. Little nerd.

WINCHESTERWINCHESTERWINCHESTERWINCHESTERWIINCHESTERWINCHESTERWINCHESTERWINCHESTERWINCHESTERWINCHESTERWINCHESTERWINCHESTER

When there's only a few minutes left of the movie, I glance at Dean. His eyes are closed, and his head is resting on my shoulder. His breathing is slow and deep. He's sleeping. I smile at him gently, but it fades when the TV illuminates the cuts and bruises marring his face. I gently trace the black eye, and he sighs, moving closer to me in his sleep. I wrap an arm around Dean's shoulders, pulling him closer. I stop the movie, putting the now empty pop cans in the also empty bowl, and setting it on the nightstand. I turn the television off completely, setting the remote down and laying on my back, taking Dean down with me. He stirs slightly, raising his head up to look around.

"Sam?" I wrap both of my arms around him, bringing his head down so it rests against my chest.

"Right here, Dean," I whisper, and his body goes lax at my side, his head a heavy, yet reassuring weight on my chest.

"Thanks for the birthday," he whispers softly, and I run a hand through his hair, arms tightening around him.

"Happy birthday, kiddo," I whisper, and I both hear and feel his breath even out as he surrenders to his subconscious.

"Night Dean, happy birthday bud," he only sighs in his sleep, it being his response. I sigh myself, my eyes closing shut. Besides the fact that our asshole of a father hit my little brother, I have to admit; it's not that bad of a day at all. I'm content, with Dean in my arms. I fall asleep, my last thought being-

What else is there to be content about?