Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!

Sam is six, Dean is ten. Enjoy!

Sam looked down at the small group of plastic soldiers he had assembled in front of him. He pushed himself away from the table and jumped down from his stool, clutching one in each hand. He ran over to Dean, who was boiling pasta over the motel's stove, and tugged at his brother's sleeve. Dean looked down, his gaze distracted.

"What, Sam?"

"Can we play armies now?" Sam asked hopefully. "You can be the one with the big gun if you want, look." He held out one of the soldiers in his hand as proof.

"Ah, not right now, Sammy. I thought you said you were hungry?"

"I am, but I wanna play while I wait."

"But I have to make the food, that's why you're waiting, remember?"

Sam slowly let go of Dean's sleeve, rejection curling in his stomach. Dean shot him a grin before looking back to the stove. "S'allright, Sammy, we'll play armies after we've eaten, 'kay?"

Sammy smiled, satisfied, and nodded. He ran back to the table and began to set up the soldiers in a different position, half guarding his place and half guarding the place where Dean always sat. He paused, biting his lip thoughtfully, and then gave Dean an extra cannon. Dean would like that.

He climbed back into his stool and looked over at Dean, tapping his fingers on the table impatiently. "Dean? Can we have chocolate ice cream after?"

"I dunno, you ate the last of it last night, remember?"

"But we can buy more."

Dean laughed. "Maybe. How 'bout that? Maybe."

Sam grinned and nodded. "And Dean? Can you read to me again tonight?"

"You can read yourself now, you should be reading to me!" Dean said indignantly, spooning the pasta only their plates. Some slopped onto the stove and sizzled loudly as it burned, and he clawed it away, muttering to himself.

"Nu-uh!" Sam complained, shaking his head. "You always read. You have to read to me."

"Well, what story d'you want?"

"Can you make one up instead, like you did before with da werewolves and da zombie girl? And da hunter man, Dan?"

Dean grinned. "And his brother, Sean."

Sam nodded eagerly.

"Well, I dunno, Sam," Dean said, shaking his head as he turned and deposited Sam's meal in front of him. He walked around to his own place and sat down, grabbing a fork. "I mean, its very hard to think up stories."

"I know, I know," Sam said earnestly. "But I thought I could help. I'm good at stories."

"Are you? Well then, you can tell one to me."

Sam shook his head and opened his mouth, but Dean spoke first.

"I know, I always tell the stories. I didn't make that food so that you could just ignore it, ya know."

Sam took a fork and began to eat, copying Dean's slouched position. He was sad that Daddy wasn't there, but he had gone out again. Sam didn't mind too much, because his Daddy went out a lot, and besides it was nice when it was just him and Dean. Dean nearly always said yes.

Dean finished his meal first, as normal, but for once Sam wasn't too far behind. He couldn't wait until he was old enough to finish before Dean. It had just always been something he had wanted to do, despite the fact that he probably wouldn't achieve much more than a bad stomach ache. As soon as he was done, Dean took his plate and put it in the sink before returning to the table. The dirty dishes in the sink had slowly been mounting since Daddy had left two days ago, and Sam knew that he would give Dean that look when he got back. He never said anything, though.

"Dean?" Sam asked, watching as Dean rubbed his hands through his short hair. "When's Daddy coming back?"

"Soon, Sammy. Tomorrow, if everything goes well."

"He always goes too long."

"Yeah, I know."

Sam shifted on the seat, reaching for one of his soldiers. "Dean, I want some chocolate ice cream. Can we get some?"

"You don't wanna play?"

"No, I want some ice cream."

Sam watched as Dean checked how much money he had in his pocket, and then how much food was in the cupboard above the sink.

"I got money for some more, yeah," his brother said at last, turning to look at him. "But then we might not have time to play after we finish it."

Sam considered the situation, sticking out his tongue slightly. Then he smiled and looked up at Dean. "I'll send the soldiers back home, and they can wait 'till tomorrow. And then we can have ice cream!"

Dean grinned at him. "Okay," he said, nodding. "I'll go get some."

Sam stopped, halfway down from his seat, and his smile faded slightly. "But... can't I come with you?"

Dean opened his mouth, but then something outside the window caught his eye and he stopped. Sam caught something rush across his face, too fast for him to see what it was. He tried to see out of the window, but he was too small.

"Dean? De-eeeen!" he whined.

Dean looked down at him, a strange glint in his eyes. "Uh, no Sam, you can't come."

"Why not?"

"Because I need you to guard my stuff, you know?"

Sam felt a rush of fear. "But, if someone comes..."

"No ones gonna come, but I still need you to. Please, Sam?"

Sam looked away, uncomfortable. He wanted to please Dean, but he didn't want to stay back on his own. He looked up at Dean, who was smiling encouragingly.

"It'll only be for a few minutes, Sam, I promise. I'll be back soon"

Sam nodded reluctantly. Dean ruffled his hair and went to grab his jacket. Sam watched him anxiously, biting the nail of his thumb. He didn't suck his thumb anymore, because that would make him a baby, but he could still bite the nail, right? Dean turned and walked towards the door, glancing back at Sam one more time.

"Lock the door, don't let anyone else in, okay?" He smiled. "Send your soldiers home, Sammy. I'll be back soon."

And without another word he ducked out into the night. Sam sighed, and then obiediantly locked the door and began to pack his soldiers away.

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

Dean shoved his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders against the driving rain.

Things I do for Sammy...

The corner shop should still be open, and it was only about ten minutes walk away. Dean glanced nervously over his shoulder. Back in the motel, he had been sure that he had seen someone lurking on the other side of the road. Tom wouldn't have followed him home, he wasn't that angry... was he?

You'll pay for this, Winchester.

Tom's words rang in his ears. Dean swallowed hard and shook the thoughts away. Tom wouldn't be that bothered. He was probably just talking about making his school life hell or something, and that Dean wasn't worried about. Still, his pace quickened as he took another look around.

He strode on, his jacket only just keeping the rain at bay. It ran down the back of his neck and soaked into his hair, and he cursed under his breath. Sammy had better like the ice cream.

He paused as he reached a dull alleyway. If he went down there, he would reach the shop quicker. His Dad had always told him to stay away from places like this, though, just in case someone was waiting down there. But who would be out in this kind of weather? Dean hesitated, and then stepped into the alleyway and began to walk quickly.

The alleyway was swamped with large puddles, and water splashed up and soaked his jean legs as he walked. He clenched his hand over the money in his pocket, wondering if the shop keeper would still accept it if it was dripping wet. A loud splash from behind him made him stop and turn abruptly, his eyes narrowing. His mouth went dry.

Oh, no...

"What's up, Winchester?" Tom Jones asked, his voice dripping with malice. "Isn't this area a little dark for you?"

Dean swallowed hard, trying to gather enough moisture in his mouth to speak, but no sound came from his lips. Two other boys from Tom's gang appeared behind him, and Dean stepped back sharply. All of them were a few years above him, and Tom had just turned fourteen. Even with the small amount of fighting moves his Dad had taught him, Dean would never be able to take him down. Dean knew it.

And worse, Tom knew it too.

Tom took a few steps forwards, and Dean watched him silently, unable to move. Tom kicked an empty wine bottle that was lying on the ground, and it skittered over to bounce against the wall. One of his friends sniggered, and Dean finally managed to speak, stuttering the first thing that came into his head.

"My Dad's coming."

"Yeah, right," Tom snorted. "Your Daddy hasn't been home tonight. We know, we saw."

So they had followed him home. Dean took a small step backwards, but Tom and his bodyguards took three steps forwards. Tom's smirk faded a little.

"You made a fool of me today," he said softly.

Dean flicked his eyes to the other boys and back again. Before he could stop himself, heated words were spilling out of his mouth.

"You shouldn't have been bullying my brother!" he said coldly.

"Your brother's crap. Just like you."

Dean fought down the urge to scream at the other boy and instead turned and began to walk away.

"Oi! Get back here!" Tom yelled.

Dean ignored him. At least until someone grabbed his hand and pulled him back harshly. Dean's wrist throbbed, and he turned, acting on instinct. He lashed out at the boy, one of Tom's friends, and caught the boy in the lip. The boy let go, more of surprise than pain, but the other one was already coming forwards. He grabbed Dean by the collar and slammed him back against the wall. Dean felt tears of pain and shock pricking at his eyes and blinked them away furiously. He was not going to cry in front of Tom, he wasn't...

"Give it up, Winchester," Tom drawled.

Dean pressed his lips together and kicked out at the boy holding him against the wall. He hit the boy in the shins, and the boy let go and stumbled away. Dean pulled back and landed a punch on the other boy before the first grabbed him around the middle and dragged him backwards. His Dad's orders rang in his ears.

"If you're in a bad position, don't worry about stopping them. Just slow them down and run. Its not worth it."

Dean failed wildly at the boy holding onto him, trying desperately to get free. His hand connected with something and the boy yelped, letting him drop. He pulled away and tried to run, but found his path blocked by the other boy who made a grab for his wrists. He could hear Tom yelling at his friends for being weak, and felt a small rush of satisfaction. He grabbed the boy's hand and twisted it. He was going to get away, he could just make a run for it after he lost this guy, and he could get back to Sammy, and everything would be fine and -

And something inexpicably hard came down on the back of his head and pain exploded in front of his eyes.

He could dimly hear shouting above him, and feel something cold and wet against his cheek. Warmth was flooding down over the back of his head. And it really hurt... really hurt...

"Shit, Tom! What did you do... hurt him... call someone..."

"Be fine... nothing... go..."

Dean cracked his eyes open, but all he could see was black dots dancing in front of his eyes. He could hear the sound of shoes slamming down on wet ground, dim shouting.

"Dad?" he croaked into the puddle that was pressed against his face. "Ow... Dad..."

Then the pain in his head rose to an unbearable level and the darkness swarmed in on him.

You know the drill - if you like it tell me, and I'll put up the next chapter. No reviews, I'll suspect that I'm a crap writer and leave it here. Please review!

SUPRNTRAL LVR.