A/N: You guys seem to be liking these so far, so here is another for your viewing pleasure!
Okay, this popped into my head because I was re-watching Supernatural and I was wondering what it might have been like for the Winchesters as kids-or Wee!Chesters as we fans call them-because we only see a few snippets of them little and it just made me wonder a bit more about how they grew up.
And, in keeping with Supernatural's theme, it's a little... angsty...
The Stygian Angel: I'm glad that you liked my snippets enough to label them 'Awesome' and hope that the ones that follow are good enough to garner similar praise!
FeathersMcStrange: As always, the fact that you reviewed this made me smile, and I'm extremely honored that you gave a shout out to my stories in your own!
LURVEuALL: I'm glad you liked it! And don't you worry, Bobby's story is coming up!
This snippet was prompted by FeathersMcStrange and if you haven't read her collection of drabbles, The Road So Far, YOU SHOULD! They are awesomesauce to the Pepsi Max!
Now, ignoring the fact that this soooo late that it's date was originally posted in Roman numerals, I had to fight through three different cases of writer's block, fuve demanding, rather rabid, plot bunnies and enough family drama for me to either get my own special award for patience, or a private wing in a mental hospital...
On with the story!
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Comfort
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Sammy was crying.
Dean was only eight years old at this point in his life, this was the very first time that their father had left them alone; although, he had left strict instructions for Dean to look after his brother and what to do if anything happened, it still made Dean feel very grown-up and important... but despite the fact that Dean had done everything that he could think of, Sammy was still crying.
He had no idea what started it; Sammy had been perfectly fine when he came home-if you could call their cheap motel of the month that-and had done his homework, ate his dinner, and watched T.V with this quiet, brooding look on his face that Dean had immediately figured was because of something some brat had said to his brother and he was going to have to teach the squirt some manners... It wasn't until the pain in the butt was tucked into bed that the sobs started...
They started off soft and stilted, like he was trying to make sure that Dean couldn't hear him, and that bothered the elder Winchester a lot more than the tears themselves, at first; Dean figured that he could solve whatever it was that was causing his brother to bawl like a girl, but the fact that Sammy was hiding it from him, hurt. He was Sammy's big brother! Sure, he may tease Sammy every now and again, but he was and would always be there for the kid, no matter what...
Why was Sammy trying to hide what was hurting him now?
After much wheedling, a fair bit of teasing, and more than enough threatening, Dean managed to get Sammy to unwind himself from the impossibly small ball that he had wrapped himself into and 'tell big brother what was wrong'. As his little brother's sobs winded down to hiccups, Dean surprised his little brother by pulling him forward into a hug, seeing that he needed the comfort and ignoring for the moment that Dad always said that talking about their feelings was something 'only girls did'.
His Sammy was upset and he was going to give him a hug, gosh darn it!
After a little while of being stunned at the fact that his brother, 'almost an adult now' was giving him a hug, Sammy seemed to have finally found his voice as he shifted out of his brother's embrace and looked him in the eye, before dropping his gaze to the bedsheets beneath them, his fingers picking at the worn edges as he swallowed hard and forced whatever thought that had been clunking around in his brain all night out. "Dean?"
"Yeah, Sammy?"
"What happened to Mom?"
The hesitantly spoken question causes a shot of ice to go through Dean's young heart and travel through his veins as he unconsciously tightened his hold on his baby brother, his memory throwing him back into the night he could remember with perfect clarity; the night that their mother died in that horrible fire, the night that still haunted his dreams and turned them into nightmares that ended with him losing more than one family member...
He could still feel the sudden and confusing fear that had gripped him that night, pulling him out of sleep and running down the hall to his parents room for them to chase the monsters and shadows away, only to see his little brother's room engulfed in flames... There was only a few seconds that his heart felt like it had stopped, like all the air had been punched out of his lungs, before his father was pushing his Sammy into his arms and ordering him to run out of the house and 'don't look back'...
Sammy seemed to realize that his question had made his brother relive memories he'd rather forget and he immediately curses himself for asking the question in the first place as he tugs on Dean's shirt sleeve in an attempt to get his attention, even calling out his name.
"Dean?"
He had carried his precious bundle out of the house, wrapped up as tight as he could hold without hurting; he didn't stop to wonder what had happened, didn't bother to see if his father and mother were following... All that mattered in that moment of time was getting Sammy, his Sammy, out of there and somewhere safe... The only reason Dean had stopped in the yard was because he had no idea where he was going to go with his brother, being only a kid with no money and no mode of transportation...
"Dean...!"
At that point in time, even at four years old-hell, even now!-his little brother was the most important thing in the world to him and there was nothing on this Earth that would change that! He had taught the kid how to read, had taught him how to write, add, subtract, everything... It scared him to think of what might have happened had Sammy asked this question of their Father instead of him; would Dad be forced to remember what happened that night, making him holler at Sammy for bringing it up or would he just drown out them and the world in a bottle, dropping them off at Uncle Bobby's while he hunted down some new lead that always seemed to end with him coming back bloodied and bruised?
"Dean!"
The fear in his little brother's voice pulled Dean out of his troublesome past and into the not-as-troublesome present, making him realize that his grip on Sammy had turned vice-like and that his little brother's arms were starting to turn white from the blood loss. Clearing his throat and blinking the blurriness away from his vision, Dean managed to choke out, "What brought this on, Sammy? You know that we don't talk about Mom... why now?"
Sammy curled-if possible-even tighter around his brother's form, burying his face in Dean's shirt so much that he had to lean his head against the top of Sammy's to hear his next words; "We were doing a project for Mother's Day-it's in two days-and I told the teacher that I didn't have a Mom... She told me that it was okay, and that I could do something else... but then, this boy that sits in the back..." There was another sniff, a watery hiccup, and if Dean wasn't already convinced to rip this kid's lungs out, Sammy's next words would have definitely proved to him that the little shit needed a severe pounding, "He said that the reason we don't have a Mom is because she didn't want me... so she left..."
The rest of Sammy's explanation was lost as Dean wrapped his brother in another bone-crushing hug that had Sammy letting out a startled yelp, but Dean was too caught up in trying to keep his own tears from flowing to loosen his hold; he had known, from the very first day their father had piled them into the back of the Impala, what had happened the night their mother died wasn't anything normal... His father wasted no time in informing him of the truth, with the stipulation that he never let Sammy in on the secret, and Dean wasn't going to break that promise now... but how does he explain what happened and how important it was for Sammy not to tell their Dad...?
Dean's attention was again diverted as Sammy shifted in his grip, trying to retrieve some of the sensation that left his arms from his brother's grip, his tone still shaky and jumpy as Sammy spoke past his tears. "Is it true, Dean? Did Mom leave... because of me?"
It's the voice that hurts the most, the tone that says he expects Dean to tell him that what that little waste of space said is true and that he's the reason they don't have a mother... Dean grits his teeth, pulls his brother away from his embrace just enough to see his face, to see the tears still forming in his toffee eyes and state firmly, seriously, with no room for argument; "Mom did not leave because of you, you know that, Sammy! Mom... d-died in a car accident, and before you even ask, that wasn't your fault either!"
Sammy's tears eventually slowed and stopped, his grip on Dean slowly slacking as the exhaustion caught up to him. Dean didn't mind; even though they had reached the age that their Father deemed 'too big to share a bed', there were still nights when Sammy crawled into his whenever a nightmare became too much for him to handle on his own, so sitting on the bed until his brother calmed down was no big deal.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, Sammy's breathing evened out and his head slowly landed on the pillow at the top of the bed, eyes slowly drifting close. Dean figured the kid had finally drifted off to sleep and shifted his weight slightly, trying to slip out of the bed and into his own when a small hand reached out and grabbed the very edge of his shirt, a tentative grip that seemed like it would break if Dean moved another inch...
"Hey, Dean?"
"Yeah, buddy?"
Sammy took a deep breath and then opened his eyes so that he was looking right at Dean, making him feel like he knew that Sammy was worried that he was not going to like it when his little brother finally asked, "What did Mom look like?"
Dean, now on the edge of the bed, turned his hand over so that he could grip Sammy's in his own. He figured that the conversation was heading in this direction, but it didn't mean that it didn't hurt to have to remember the Mother that had been stolen from him... Then he realized that he at least had his memories and Sammy didn't even have that, so why not tell his brother a little bit about their Mother? "She looked like an angel, Sammy; completely beautiful with blonde hair that fell past her shoulders and this way of hugging you that made you feel like nobody would ever get at you again..."
"What color were her eyes?" Sammy asked, his own wide and rapidly blinking as he tried to fight off the tiredness to hear more about the Mother that he barely knew. "Were they blue? Green? Brown? Was she really tall? Did she laugh a lot or was she really serious?"
Dean laughed at Sammy's stubborn fight against his drowsiness, scooting closer to the younger male and letting his Sammy use his leg as a pillow instead of the threadbare thing at the head of the bed. "Her eyes were a deep blue, Sammy, kinda like a pool and they sparkled like jewels whenever she was happy... She always seemed so happy whenever she held you, Sammy. Dad said that she had the same expression whenever she held me too, but I think you were extra special..."
Sammy was quickly losing the battle against falling asleep if the sudden jerk of his head was anything to go by, but a twitch of the lips told Dean that his comment had lifted his brother's mood drastically, and Dean felt a well of happiness swell in his chest at the thought that he had made his brother feel better, so he decided to keep going and remember as much about their mother as he could... As much for his own sake as for his brother's...
"She always called us 'her little angels' or 'her little miracles' and told me all these plans she had for us when we grew up, like going to college and marrying pretty girls so that she would have a ton of grandkids to spoil. I asked her once if she cared if I didn't get married for a while, because I wanted to go traveling and she said she was perfectly okay with that because she wanted to do that too, but she decided that she wanted to get married and have kids instead..."
Sammy fell asleep to the comforting sound of his brother's voice, which continued to ramble on even after he knew that his brother had drifted off, remembering things about his mother that he hadn't even thought of for a few years... By the time their Father returned home later that night, both boys were fast asleep, curled around each other like a pair of puppies in a store window; so rarely had John Winchester seen them look that peaceful, he decided that he would just leave them be and dropped into his own bed with a low groan.
It wasn't until a few days later, when his brother was running toward him with a bright smile and a green colored card addressed to him, that Dean realized just how much Sammy appreciated and needed that talk...