"How was your first day?" Dean asked, throwing a pillow at his brother who was sat cross-legged on his bed in the boy's room in the crappy apartment they were renting doing his homework.
"Fine," Sam snapped, throwing the pillow back at Dean.
"All right," Dean held his hands up. "What's got you panties in a twist?"
"I'm just trying to do my homework!" Sam shouted, breathing heavily.
Dean stared wide-eyed at Sam. He knew that Sam was in a hard part of his life growing up but he didn't think Sam would ever speak to him like that.
"You need to speak to people with more respect." Dean told him. "Dad wouldn't be happy if you spoke to him that way."
"Well, dad isn't here right now, Dean!" Sam shouted, getting louder. "Maybe if he spent more time with us instead of hunting, I might actually be able to spend at least a year at a school and I wouldn't have to spend my time copying Sherlock's notes!"
"Oh, yeah," Dean laughed sarcastically. "What's with that? You trying to get a little man love here? Who knows, maybe you could have a long distance relationship when we leave."
Sam slammed his book down in a fit of rage and stormed off into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He sank to the floor behind the door as tears started rolling down his cheeks and his throat constricted making him choke.
In the distance, Sam could hear Dean banging on the door in an attempt to gain entry. Dean yelled for him to come out and soon gave up shouting to speak calmly through the door.
"Sammy," He spoke gently. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean the things I said."
Slowly and carefully, Sam's fingers opened the door and he peeked around it to see the older brother kneeling by the door and looking at him with sorrow filled eyes.
Dean stood and pushed the door open wider to envelope his kid brother in his arms. Sam's fingers curled tightly into Dean's shirt as he sobbed into his chest.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Sam repeated like a mantra.
"Shush," Dean soothed. "Let's get you to bed before dad gets home and finds you in this state. You know he won't be happy."
Sam nodded and tried to slow his breathing. Dean lightly tugged Sam's shirt over his head and pulled his pants off so he was just stood shivering in his boxers. If Dean really took the time to look at his little brother, he could see how broken the kid really was. His skin was mottled with scars, both new and old, that he had picked up over the years. Most of them were from hunts, but some were from their father.
Their dad didn't often beat them, but when he did, Sam was always the main target for his anger. Dean had tried to stop his father in the past but that would just end up getting him angrier and hurting Sam even more.
Dean took a set of clean pyjamas out of Sam's duffle bag and helped the kid step into his pants. He then carefully helped him into his top and buttoned it down.
"Thank you," Sam said in almost a whisper.
"Don't mention it, squirt." Dean smiled and led his brother back over to his bed and settled him between the covers.
Dean lightly brushed Sam's hair off his forehead and placed a small kiss on his temple. Sam closed his eyes and settled into his pillow enjoying the comforting touch of his brother.
"Get some sleep, okay?" Dean said and went off to the bathroom to get himself ready for bed.
John came in sometime later looking exhausted. Dean woke hearing the door open and peered through the darkness at his father. The stench of alcohol wafted around the room and tickled the teenager's nose.
"Dad," He croaked tiredly. "Have you been drinking?"
"Was it to you?" John slurred and stumbled towards Sam's bed.
"Dad," Dean whispered fearfully. "Leave him alone. He's sleeping."
"And I need my sleep," John barked and grab Sam's arm, startling him awake.
"You've got your own room!" Dean argued but was ignored.
John's other hand moved to Sam's hair and gripped it tightly. He pulled Sam out of the bed and threw him at Dean's. Sam grunted as he collided with the bedside table and the bed. John immediately collapsed onto the recently vacated bed and fell asleep.
"Sammy," Dean lifted his brother onto his bed and rocked him side to side.
"Why does dad hate me?" Sam croaked and looked at Dean with damp eyes.
Dean didn't answer and pulled the duvet over himself and his little brother. They soon fell asleep; Sam in Dean's arms.
Sherlock walked into his house after school and was greeted by the scent of fresh cookies. He smiled and inhaled the familiar scent of home before stepping inside and closing the door quietly behind him.
"Sherlock, honey," He heard his mother call him from the kitchen. "Is that you?"
Sherlock hurried into the kitchen and embraced his mother. He had recently gone through a teenage growth spurt and was almost a half foot taller than his mother.
"Did you have a good day?" His mother asked.
"I did, mum." Sherlock beamed. "I met someone."
His mother practically squealed in delight and squeezed him tightly. Ever since John Watson had broken up with him, his mother had gone out of her way to make everything perfect for her son. She baked him cookies every day, asked him about school and even took him out to buy new chemistry equipment.
Sherlock was startled at first by this recent development but appreciated everything his mother was doing for him. He gradually became used to it.
"Who is it?" His mother asked.
"His name is Sam Winchester," Sherlock informed. "He just moved here and has been very kind to me."
Sherlock left out the bit about Sam lying to him as his mother would no doubt want them as far from each other as possible.
"You should bring him around for dinner tomorrow," His mother said and handed him a cookie. "It's good to see that you're finally happy again."
Sherlock smiled shyly and nibbled the cookie. "I'll be upstairs if you need me."
With that, he dashed upstairs to his room and started his homework; not forgetting about the tall boy with the shaggy hair and a dimpled smile.
Remember to leave a few words, sweethearts. It means a lot!