Dean sighed as he sat down in the kitchen chair. It had been a long day. School had felt longer than normal, and he had taken Sammy to the library after school so he could get books on sharks for his project, and then he had fed his little brother, helped him with his homework and finally got the kid to bed. Exhausted wasn't even a strong enough word to describe how he was feeling at the moment. He looked down at his book bag that was sitting next to his chair and he took another deep sigh. He hadn't even started his own homework and it was past eleven.

He prepared for another long night and pulled out his English folder and started rewriting the essay that his teacher had corrected for him. She told him that if he took it home and corrected it and brought it back he would get a better grade, she said that all he needed was practice and he could be a very good story teller. Because she believed in him, and only let him take his papers home to correct, he worked hard at making it better, making his handwriting as precise as his fingers would allow. She deserved his best.

He was half way through the third paragraph when he heard shuffling by the front door. He was up, lightning quick, and the shot gun was in his hand and aimed at the front door, nothing was going to get past him and harm his charge sleeping in the next room. The door opened and he cocked the gun and when the person came into view his hands relaxed on the gun, but his body went stiff. His father came stumbling through the door, blood all over him.

"Sir?" Dean said and put the shot gun back down. He ran to his father and helped him to the chair that he had just vacated. John folded into the chair heavily. Dean licked his lips once and immediately went for the first aid kit, hot water and a washcloth. Without a word Dean washed the blood from his father's face and assessed the damage with a practiced hand.

"It'll be okay." Dean said softly as he cleaned his father up and put bandages on the cuts on his father's face. "It's not that bad." He said in a calm and patient voice. John said nothing, he just starred into space. Judging from his father's lack of reaction, Dean assumed that the hunt had been a particularly nasty one, perhaps even with an innocent person being killed despite his father's best efforts.

"Sammy and I went to the library today." Dean said as he put butterfly bandages on a particularly nasty cut on his father's cheek. "The lady who worked there was reading a story to the little kids. Sammy sat and listened for a while. It was a story about bunnies, I don't remember what it was called, but Sammy wouldn't quit talking about it. He had to get some books on sharks. He is doing a report on them." Dean finished the cut on his father's face. He moved to take his father's coat off, then his father's shirts, they were covered in blood and from the looks of it, it wasn't his and that validated Dean's theory that someone innocent had died.

"My English teacher told me today that I would be a good story teller with some practice. All of that time I spent telling Sammy stories must have paid off huh?" he asked. "Once I get you cleaned up sir, I'll finish that so I get the better grade. You don't need to worry about my schooling on top of worrying about all of the people you worry about. Come on sir, let's get you to bed." Dean helped his father up and into his own room and pulled the covers over his father's legs. "It'll be all right dad. You got the evil sucker and that is all that matters. No one else will be hurt. Good night." He walked slowly out of the room and closed the door softly behind him.

"Dean?" Cam a frightened voice.

"Sammy? What are you doing up?"

"I heard Dad come home. Is he okay?"

"Dad's fine. Don't worry about him Sammy." Sam gave Dean big watery scared eyes.

"When are you going to bed?"

"When I get the kitchen cleaned up and my homework finished."

"Can you do that in the morning?"

"Why?" Sam shrugged. Since he turned 8 he had spent less and less time in his big brother's bed, Dean figured that he was too old now to seek comfort in his brother's bed.

"I'm scared." He repeated. Dean got the message. He nodded and turned off the light in the kitchen.

"Come on Sammy. Let's get some sleep." The essay would have to wait until tomorrow. Sammy was more important.