Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 36

Same Kind of Different

It had been almost a month since the Winchesters left Bobby's house and both Sam and Dean were miserable. They spent a week in Toledo where John took care of a poltergeist, before moving on to Dayton where he hunted a black dog. After a week there, they moved on to Fort Wayne, Indiana where a wraith was feeding on the unsuspecting students at the local college. At each place, John parked his boys in a cheap motel room, instructing them to stay inside the room with the doors and windows locked and salted. Every time he left, his last words were to Dean…..

"Watch out for Sammy, Dean."

Dean wanted to roll his eyes at that, but he wasn't stupid. Instead, he would just nod his head and answer "Yes, sir" just like he'd been doing for years.

Now, they found themselves in a small town outside of Lincoln, Nebraska. John had actually rented a small house, knowing that his current hunt was going to take him more time than usual. Because they were going to be there for a while, he decided to enroll the boys in school. They had missed so much over the last few months and he knew Sam was anxious to go back. Of course, Dean wasn't happy at all.

During the time they spent at the other hunts, Bobby had taken the time to gather up the previous school records, making it easier to enroll Sam and Dean into the appropriate grades. Dean was just glad that the school was small and that Sam's classroom was only a few doors down from him. After everything that had happened, he wasn't taking any chances. Despite the fact that his dad's constant reminder to watch out for his brother annoyed him, Dean's whole purpose in life was to do just that.

And so, it started again.

Dean spent almost every minute of the school day wondering if Sam was okay. He was too distracted with thoughts of his brother to really pay attention in class and his teacher wasn't happy with him because of it. But, Dean didn't care. He tried to pay attention, but every time he heard someone walking in the hallway, his heart started pounding and it took everything he had not to jump up from his desk and run to Sam's classroom.

He was always the last one in the classroom when the starting bell rang and the first to leave when school was over. He ate his lunch with Sam every day and sat on a bench during recess, watching his little brother running around the playground with the other kids in his class. Dean didn't even try to make friends.

Not that he didn't want to, though. Sometimes when he was watching Sammy play, his eyes would roam over to where the boys from his class were playing football or basketball. He'd watch from afar as they played tag and threw Frisbees, showing off to the group of girls always hanging around the edge of the field.

He watched, but his eyes never strayed too far or for too long from his little brother.

The first time John returned, he had been gone for three days. The second time, it had been five days. But when it had been almost a week without any word from the man, Dean started to get nervous. Usually, John would call every other night to check on the boys, making sure that everything was okay. He'd call, letting the phone ring one time before hanging up and calling back. Dean knew to wait for the coded ring. And he knew not to answer the phone at any other time.

At the moment, though, if the phone rang, he would have picked it up immediately. He would give anything to hear his dad's gravelly voice, even if he was chewing him out for not following protocol.

By the end of the week, Sam was starting to pick up on some of Dean's nervousness. From the moment they stepped into the small house until the moment they went to bed, Dean would pace the small living room, stopping every third or fourth trip around the room to look out the window. Every hour or so, he would step over to the phone and pick it up, making sure that he still heard a dial tone. He barely spoke to Sam, giving only the vaguest answers to any question thrown his way. Eventually, Sam couldn't take it any longer.

"Dean? What's wrong?" he finally asked as he let his fork drop back down to his plate. When Dean didn't answer, he tried again. "Dean?"

"What?" Dean asked as he looked over at his brother in confusion. "Did you say something, Sammy?"

"Yeah. What's wrong? You're being all weird."

"No, I'm not," Dean instantly declared.

"Yeah, you are! You keep looking at the door and you didn't even eat anything." In Sam's mind, that was the kicker. Dean not eating wasn't a normal thing. In fact, Dean not eating was a bad thing.

"I-I'm just not hungry, okay? I ate a big lunch today."

Sam knew that his brother was lying, because he had been there when Dean packed their lunches. He watched as Dean took the last two pieces of bread to make a single cheese sandwich. He watched when Dean wrapped the sandwich up in a paper towel and put it in Sam's lunch bag. He watched as Dean divided up the last bag of chips into two small baggies, putting the one with almost twice as much in it into Sam's bag. He also watched as he put the very last apple into his little brother's bag.

Sam knew that Dean barely had any lunch at all. And now he wasn't eating dinner, either.

"Are you sick?" he finally asked his brother as he tried to figure out what was going on.

"I'm fine, Sam."

Sam picked his fork back up and picked at the remaining little bit of macaroni and cheese on his plate. They had been eating macaroni and cheese for the last three nights and he couldn't help but notice that there wasn't a lot of cheese anymore. In fact, it was mostly just tasteless macaroni.

"When's Dad coming home?" Sam asked.

Dean snapped his head over to look at his brother. He could tell that it was just an innocent question, but he still didn't really know how to answer it. "Soon," he finally answered as he looked away. He hated lying to Sam, even if he knew it was the right thing to do. Or, at least, the easy thing to do.

"Finish up, Sammy. You gotta take a bath tonight, remember?"

"But, I wanted to watch TV tonight, Dean," Sam whined. "You said I could watch Full House!"

Dean groaned at the thought of having to sit through another episode of that show, not understanding how his little brother could actually like it. In his mind, it was just a stupid show about a stupid family with stupid problems.

"Sam, I hate that show!" he couldn't help but whine.

"You said I could watch it!" Sam yelled as he kicked his feet against the legs of the table. Unbeknownst to him, one of the legs was barely hanging on and after the sharp kick, it gave away, causing the whole table to tip over.

Dean tried to grab his plate before it crashed to the floor, but he missed it. Seconds later, everything settled and he just sat there, staring at the broken dishes and spilled milk. His eyes burned with tears, but he quickly wiped them away, turning instead to glare at his brother.

Before any words could come out of his mouth, Sam scrambled to his feet. "I'm sorry, Dean," he cried. "I-I didn't mean to do that!"

Dean watched as huge tears rolled down Sam's little face and he suddenly couldn't keep his own at bay any longer. He didn't really even know why he was upset over the spilled food and broken dishes, but he was. Maybe it was because they didn't have hardly any food left in the small house. Maybe it was because Sam was so upset. Maybe it was because he was just so tired of having to be the one in charge. Or maybe it was because he had no idea where his dad was and he was scared to think about what might have happened to him.

When Sam noticed that his brother was crying, he started crying even harder. Dean never cried- unless he was being punished by their dad- so to see him crying now was awful. And Sam knew it was his fault. If he hadn't been acting like such a baby, none of this would have happened.

Now scrambling over to the mess on the floor, Sam bent down to clean it up. He had just started picking up the broken pieces of Dean's plate when Dean yelled at him to stop.

"Sammy, no!"

Sam jerked his head up to look at his brother, letting the piece of broken dinnerware fall out of his hand. As he dropped it, he felt a sharp sting on the tip of his index finger, causing him to cry out.

"Sam!" Dean moved over to Sam and grabbed his hand. "Sam, don't touch anything. It'll cut you." He looked down at Sam's hand and was surprised to see blood. He felt panic stir inside of him, but he forced himself to stay calm. Looking back up into Sam's face, he tried to stop the kid from freaking out at the sight of his own blood. "It's just a little cut, Sammy. It just needs a band-aid, okay?"

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam sniffled.

"It's okay." Dean stood up and grabbed a paper towel from the counter. Once he was back at Sam's side, he gently took his hand and pressed the towel to the finger that was bleeding. "See? It's hardly bleeding at all. I think you just nicked it."

Sam kept his eyes off of his finger, not wanting to see it bleeding. Instead, he just kept his eyes on Dean's face, trusting his brother to take care of him. After a few minutes of holding pressure to the wound, Dean lifted the paper towel away. "See? It already stopped bleeding, Sammy. It's okay."

Sam glanced down quickly at his finger before returning his eyes to Dean. "Can I still have a band-aid?" he asked.

"Sure you can. I'll be right back." Dean stood up and walked quickly to the bathroom. He returned a minute later with a battered first-aid kit. Opening it up, he took out the smallest band-aid he could find and wrapped it around Sam's finger. "There you go," he said with a grin. "All better."

Sam checked out the band-aid. "Thanks, Dean," he finally said.

"Hey, that's what big brothers are for, Sammy."

Dean stooped over and started carefully picking up the broken dinnerware. "Listen, why don't you go see if your show is on, okay? You can take a bath after it's over."

Sam threw his arms around Dean's waist before scurrying into the small living room to turn on the television. Dean kept his eyes on his brother for a few more seconds, before giving the kitchen mess his full attention. After getting everything cleaned up, he joined Sam on the couch. Sam was completely engrossed in the sitcom, so he didn't notice how Dean's eyes barely stayed on the television for more than a few seconds at a time before moving back to the front door and window. He didn't notice when the look of despair returned to his brother's face.

Once Sam's show was over, Dean ushered him into the bathroom for his bath. Dean sat on the toilet while Sam played in the bathtub and eventually, he moved to help Sam wash his hair.

"Don't get the soap in my eyes, Dean," Sam begged as he tried to move away from Dean's hands.

"I won't if you would just hold still," Dean growled. Sam moved even further away from Dean, causing some water to splash into his face. "C'mon, Sammy," Dean yelled. "Sit still. I'm almost done."

When Sam continued to try to escape Dean's reach, Dean had had enough. Without a word, he reached into the tub and smacked Sam on the thigh. Sam immediately stopped squirming and just stared at his brother. He couldn't believe that Dean had smacked him.

"You smacked me!" he cried, obviously confused by the turn of events.

"I said hold still, Sammy," Dean answered. "I need to get the soap out of your hair."

"You can't smack me, Dean. Only daddies are allowed to do that. And Uncle Bobbies. I'm gonna tell Daddy when he gets home."

"Sam, c'mon. It didn't even hurt."

"Yes, it did, Dean! It hurt a lot."

Dean rolled his eyes as he grabbed the towel from the towel rack. "Let's go, Sam. It's almost time for bed." As Sam stood up, Dean winced at the sight of the red handprint on Sam's thigh. Maybe he'd smacked his brother's leg harder than he thought.

After making sure that Sam dried himself off good enough, Dean helped him into his pajamas. Sam didn't seem interested in talking to him at the moment. Once he was dressed, Sam turned and walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom they shared. Without a word, he climbed up onto the bed and pulled the blanket up over his head. Dean sat down on the bed next to him.

"Sam, I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have done that."

Sam just burrowed deeper under the blanket. "C'mon, Sammy…. I said I was sorry."

"Yeah, but sorry isn't as good as not doing it in the first place, remember? That's what Daddy says."

"I know, Sammy, but I did it and I'm sorry I did it, okay? Forgive me?"

Sam thought hard for several long seconds before poking his head out of the blanket to look at his brother. "It really hurt, Dean," he said pitifully. "A lot!"

"Sam….."

"Maybe it'll feel better if you kiss it," Sam said, grinning from ear to ear. He had heard one of his classmates talking about how his mom always kissed his 'owies' to make them feel better. Sam thought that was kind of stupid, but who was he to know. He didn't even have a mom.

"Dude, I'm not kissing your leg," Dean yelled, causing Sam to break out in giggles. Dean looked down at his brother, surprised that he was laughing about it. He figured Sam would be mad about that for at least another day or so.

Sam laughed for almost another minute, stopping only when his side started hurting. He almost started again when he saw the disgusted look on his brother's face. Dean didn't seem to think it was quite as funny.

"Are you done, now?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay, go to sleep, Sammy."

"Wait! Aren't you coming to bed, Dean?"

"Yeah, but I need to take a shower first. I'll only be a few minutes, okay? And I'll leave the bathroom door open."

Sam wanted to follow his brother into the bathroom, but he knew Dean wouldn't go for that. He hated being all alone in the old house, even if it was just for a few minutes. He also hated it when Dean acted weird.

Dean was only gone for about five minutes, much to Sam's relief. Once he came out of the bathroom, Sam listened as he made his way downstairs. He knew that Dean was checking that the doors were locked and that the salt was still in place one last time before going to bed. Sam had no idea why their family poured salt at the doors and windows, but he knew that it was important. Maybe one day he'd ask his brother. But, not today.

Dean was gone a little longer than it normally took him to check everything and when he finally returned, Sam noticed a strange look on his face. He could tell that Dean was worried about something and he was smart enough to know that it was probably something to do with their dad. Sam had no idea how long their dad had been gone, but he knew it was longer than it usually was.

Dean moved over to his side of the bed, keeping his back to Sam. Sam watched as he bent down and picked up the pillow to look underneath it. He knew that Dean kept a gun under his pillow and he knew he wasn't ever to touch it. That was one rule he would never break.

Once Dean was in bed, he turned out the small light on the table. The hall light was still on, so there was at least some light filtering into the small room. Dean knew that Sam didn't like to sleep in the dark.

"Goodnight, Sammy," he said as a rush of weariness swept over him.

"Wait, Dean! Aren't you going to read me a story?"

"I'm too tired, Sam," Dean said with a yawn.

"But, Dean….."

"Please, Sam? Can't we just go to sleep? It's already past your bedtime."

Sam started to argue, but when Dean yawned again, he decided not to. Instead, he rolled over, curling into a ball. As he pulled his legs up to his stomach, his feet came to rest against the small of Dean's back. Dean flinched at the coldness of his feet.

"Damn it, Sam! Your feet are like icicles!"

"Sorry," Sam whispered.

Dean sat up and climbed out of bed. Sam listened as he opened up one of the dresser drawers and rummaged through it. When he came back to the bed, he pulled the covers away from Sam and grabbed his feet. The next thing Sam knew, Dean was putting warm, woolen socks on his cold feet. "There you go, Sammy," he said as he pulled the blankets back over his brother.

Sam waited until Dean was back in the bed before saying anything. "Thanks, Dean.

Dean grunted in response. Just as he was about to doze off, Sam spoke again.

"Dean?"

"What?"

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Sammy."

Minutes later, both boys were sound asleep. Sam was resting comfortably against his brother, his breathing even and peaceful. Dean, on the other hand, was sleeping much less peacefully as his worry for his father seeped into his dreams.

Author's note: Sorry for the long wait. Life's been a little busy lately, but I really wanted to get another chapter out before I head off to Vegas for the SPN convention. Any of you going?

I really hope that you all are doing okay in the wake of the recent news. I know it sucks and we're all a little shocked, but I think we knew it was coming. I'm trying to stay focused on the positive, as much as I can. We've had fifteen seasons of this remarkable little show and for that I'm truly grateful. At least, we know that the show will live on through our stories and art, right? And the SPN family and friends we've made.

Take care of yourselves and each other. And thanks for reading and reviewing.