Heyy. So, I used to write fics when I was in my teenie-bopper faze, but that was a good 5 years ago. I felt like writing, so I wrote my first Supernatural story. Right now it's a one shot, if the Winchester's take in a family friend's baby, after his mother and father are killed. I have another chapter written, when the boys are older. But e'll see if I write more, review if ya like it or not, etc. -Dana

"Daddy, we get to keep baby Ben?" asked seven-year-old Sam.

"Well, Sammy, sort of. Ben's going to be staying with us from now on, you can think of him as you're baby brother," an older gentlemen spoke softly, "Just like you're Dean's baby brother."

"Oh great, another brat to take care of."

"Dean," John Winchester sharply asserted.

"Dad, I like the kid and all, but come on-"

"All right, that's enough kiddo," chuckled John lightly. "I'm the one who takes care of you boys." Dean sighed.

"Fine, we can keep him, Sam," Dean agreed looking at his younger brother. Out of John's sons, Dean gave in the easiest in opposition to John. Unlike Sam who questioned their father searching for an answer that deemed sufficient to his young mind.

"I can watch him, Dean, but you can still watch me, 'kay?" Sam squealed. Dean looked after his little brother day and night, rain or shine, no matter was going on. As expected, Sam constantly looked to Dean for approval.

The boys were like two peas in a pod. They were forced together naturally as brothers, but became best friends voluntary. Of course though, Dean would never admit he was best friends' with a seven-year-old.

"It's late, boys, go on to bed," John said, holding the baby tightly in his arms. Dean obeyed immediately, turning to leave the front room towards the bathroom. Sam, on the other hand, always the defiant one, pouted.

"But, dad," Sam whined, "I'm not sleepy. I wanna play with Ben."

"Sam, I gave you an order," John barked, standing from the recliner he had been occupying. Sam scratched his head, slightly confused by what his dad was saying.

"But an order is for hunting," the inquiring mind argued. Dean, who had been leaning against the wall, rolled his eyes; Sammy, you're gonna get it, he thought. John thought it, too, but before he could rebuke his youngest, the child spoke out again.

"You aren't putting Ben to bed, and he's only a baby," Sam emphasized. Everything always became a battle with Sam. This kid had guts, thought Dean.

John moved closer to Sam, but the child didn't budge. He didn't understanding that his questions were a sign of disobedience. However, more so he wasn't scaredy-cat like Dean when it came to talking to their father.

"Samuel, I tell you to do something-"

"Dad! Dad, give him a break, he doesn't get it," peeped Dean. Always protecting his little brother, he pushed himself off the wall and let his hands fall to his side. Unlike Sam, his energy had worn off for the night, and he didn't need to see his old man fighting with a seven-year-old; neither of which would back down.

"Come here, Sammy," John sighed. He knelt down to eye level with the boy, and adjusted the almost sleeping baby into his left arm. Sam shrugged and leaned into his father's leg. "Listen, kiddo, when I tell you do something, I want you to do it no matter how small it sounds. Your mother always use to tell Dean this," John softly spoke, looking into Dean's eyes, "I know what's good for you, and going to bed when you're tired is good for you. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Sam said in defeat. The boy now looked solemnly at his feet, which was common when his mother was mentioned.

"But, hey, Ben's tired too." Sam leaned over to the child, carefully pushing the blanket away from Ben's face. The baby smiled, than yawned, and nestled his cheek against the kid's young finger.

"Yeah, I'ma getting sleepy, too," Sam also yawned.

"Which is way I said to go to bed. Now you boys go on and clean up, and I'll come tuck you in," said John.

"Dad, you know what else is good for little boys named Sammy?" Dean smiled walking over to his family. His dad nodded in return.

"What?" asked Sam.

"The tickle machine!" laughed Dean, pouncing on Sam. John joined in with his free hand, completing the ritual John and Dean used nightly. The younger boy squealed with excitement, throwing his head around. They only stopped when tears began forming in Sam's eyes.

"Okay, son, now go brush your teeth and put on your pjs." Since Mary died, John could care less about dental hygiene, but his wife certainly wouldn't approve of a toothless son. "Say good night to Ben."

"Night Benny, my baby brother," Sam stressed, enjoying his newfound 'possession'. Dean grumbled that's what I say to him. Sam scurried off down the hall to the bathroom, receiving a couple smacks to the bottom from his father.

"Leave the door open, Sam!" John yelled, having a clear view of the bathroom door from the front room. Sam could never be left alone, not since the fire that consumed Mary Winchester seven years prior. Dean began to walk off as well, but John grabbed him roughly by the arm.

"He has to learn sooner or later, Dean. There are things you say and things you don't say. Talking to me like that, isn't one of those things," the father firmly said.

"I know, dad. But he was just asking-"

"No, next time he won't get off with you butting in and you won't get by speaking to me like that. Understood?"

"Yes sir," frowned Dean. Of course, Sam doesn't something wrong and I get in trouble. John gave him an once-over before being satisfied that his eldest son recognized his wrongdoing.

"Help me put this little tyke to bed?" asked John.

"Okay."

John got up and Dean followed close behind him. The father silently noted his youngest son was still brushing his teeth, diligently scrubbing like Dean had showed him.

The families' Texas ranch was considerably small, as they were only renting. John decided that'd he keep Ben with him, in his room, knowing his sons would need to rest without the cries of a baby. He bent down to the makeshift crib, placing the infant carefully in it and covering him with an oversized blanket.

"He's cute, I guess," admitted Dean.

"Yeah, he ain't bad."

"Think he'll like to hunt?" the pre-teen pondered.

"Well, you do, don't ya?" Dean only nodded. "Ben will two then. Plus, he's got a great big brother to show him the ropes." John ruffled Dean's hair, which the boy promptly pushed away. Winchester men weren't much for mush and gratitude; but Dean nodded again and let a small smile creep upon his face. When the two looked back at the crib, the child was soundly asleep.

"Alright, go brush, while I get Sam in bed."

John found Sam in his and Dean's room, bouncing slightly in his spot on the bed. Somehow, between the bathroom and his bedroom, the young man retained some liveliness.

"Down," John abruptly said, causing the boy to automatically stop. "Sammy, you gotta learn to even though I don't always act like it, I'm the adult and what I say goes. What happens when Dean talks back?"

"He gets spanked." Sam wrinkled his nose. He didn't like when that happened, though it wasn't often. Generally Sam was the one being punished.

"Right. You were gonna get it, but you're brother stepped in." Like any child, Sam didn't enjoy this form of discipline, whether or not he was the one being spanked. "Dean's a good big brother. You remember that, all right? No matter what happens, he'll always be with you, and Dean'll be there for baby Ben too-"

"But baby-" Sam began to interrupt. John harshly smacked the child's hand.

"You didn't let me finish, Sammy. Try not to interrupt." Sam nodded. "Ben gets you to be his big brother too. Which means you have to watch after him like Dean does you. Think you can do that?"

"Yes daddy!" the boy bounced.

"Good. But remember, Sam, always love Dean," John really underlined. He didn't have sincere talks often with his boys, but he was good at knocking in some good points for his children to remember, like always: look out for one another, carry a weapon, and follow orders.

"Always love Dean," Sam repeated. John didn't realize that one-day his loving little Sammy wouldn't be so docile.

"Good boy, now get to sleep. We're leaving in the morning." Dean, now at doorframe, grimaced why do we have to move? His dad had banished the spirits that killed Ben's parents; they weren't coming back. There wasn't a danger anymore and he kind of liked Texas.

"But, why dad?"

"Shoo, son, it's not important," John, cooed. Dean saw this as his opportunity to step in.

"Next time, Sammy, I'm gonna let dad spank ya," Dean snickered. He walked over to the small set of drawers on his side of the room and stripped down to his underwear, replacing his clothes for a set of plaid pants and a white t-shirt.

"Okay, Dean," Sam whispered. When Dean said something, he meant to, and Sam always – well, he almost always, listened to what Dean said.

"Ugh, lighten up Sammy," the older brother joked.

"Under the covers, Sam." Helping his son get cozy, John patted Sam's leg and got up from his place on the bed.

"Hey, wait dad!" Dean meekly said. "Can you sing to us? Like… well you know, can you?" Not wanting to mention their mother, Dean knew his father understood. It was another ritual the family occasionally shared. After a rough day of training or hunting, Dean would remember his mother and father singing and inquire his father to sing them to sleep. The lullaby was one of the few aspects of his wife, John let shine through.

"Sure, baby," smiled John. He took a seat on Sam's bed, on the side near Dean and began softly singing. Dean lay on his stomach, grasping the pillow under his head. He calmly watched his hero sing and his breathing followed the rhythm of the song. Sam snuggled with his beloved blanket, with his face aglow listening to his father sing (not always on key). He still continued to bounce of his back trying to match the beat of the song. He than looked over at Dean, who met his gaze knowing exactly what his little brother was asking, he confirmed with a nod.

"Here, dad. Ben can have my blankie now," Sam said with all the confidence in the world. He held up the ragged blue material, which John received graciously.

"That's nice of you, Sam. Ben will like it, now close you're eyes." John traced the words, "Precious Boy" sown into the blanket, before looking at Dean, sharing their own gape. Turning back he kiss Sam on the forehead and wish him good night.

The blanket had belonged to Dean, and was given to him by his mother Mary. Shortly after the fire, Dean himself gave his beloved friend to Sam. Sometimes he wished he had it back for comfort and belonging, seeing that he never really had friends. Earlier that night, Sam had asked Dean if he should give Ben his blankie and Dean only replied with, "if you want to." The brothers often gazed at each other, not having to speak one word to know what the particular stare was about. Sam looked to Dean for support, wanting to pick the right time to hand over his blanket.

Dean soon after fell asleep, followed by Sam. Before John Winchester retired to his room, he got up and hovered over his oldest boy. It had been a year or so, since him and Dean suddenly stopped with the whole good-night-kiss ritual. There would be a hug at the door, but no bedside service.

John never let a night go by, though, without kissing both his children good night and showing his immense affection for his two most important assignments.

"I love you, Dean." And with that he shut off the nightstand lamp and retreated to his own room.

"I love you too, dad," Dean whispered. Some nights he willed himself to stay up until his father left, just to hear those priceless words.