Disclaimer: Someday I'm just gonna stop having disclaimers... seriously! These things are about as hard to make up as my stories!

A/N: Hola! Happy Gobble Day to all my American readers! ok-- so I'm not American, but most of my friends are, and I work for an American company and I got today off... so I like it. I do have a Thanksgiving Day one shot, and was trying to finish it to be able to post tonight... but it's not done yet. I'll try for maybe tomorrow! Alrighty... thanks again people for reviews-- they're very muchly appreciated. This one shot... haha, I just found on my computer as I was trying to decide what to post today. It's a teen!Chester story, so John will, of course will be in it. And... yeah... not much more to say-- enjoy!

Title: Big Brothers
Genre: It's really just fluffy...
Summary:When Sam starts to come home from school with random injuries... it's time for big brother to step in.

Big Brothers

When fifteen year old Sam came home from school the first week with a black eye, he said it was from banging his face on a locker in gym. Dean laughed, teased and got on with his life. The second time it was a badly split lip from falling on the steps. Dean didn't tease him this time, and their Dad didn't lecture him on being more careful. Somehow the way Sam carried himself with his barely disappearing black eye and now split lip didn't seem so funny.

It was the third week.

Dean was nineteen; had his own things to do-- own hunts that he helped their Dad on while Sam was at school. But when he came home one day on the third week of school to find Sam's shoes tossed haphazardly on the floor by the door, and yet no Sam sitting lazily on the couch, Dean felt a cold feeling form in his stomach.

"Hey Sam!" it was John, however, that called out for his youngest as he walked into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee, "You home?!"

The question was obvious, but more a point to get a location on the teen. A muffled call was heard from down the hall, and John nodded to Dean to go and check on him. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, Dean walked down the hall. It was the first time in a long time that they had a place large enough for both Sam and Dean to have their own room. And as he got to the first room on the right with a large sign on the door reading 'My room. My mess. My problem.', Dean smiled and knocked.

"Hey Sammy, can I come in?" Dean asked through the wooden door.

"One sec," there was a muffle inside the room before Sam spoke up again, "Yeah, come in."

Dean opened the door and looked around. A dresser stood to his immediate left, and clothes covered pretty much every inch of the floor leading to the bed to the right. Sam sat on the bed, covered with a dark, navy blue comforter. Dean frowned at the light bruising that still spread out from the corner of his eye, and the red lip.

"Hey, have a good day?" Dean asked, sitting down on a chair leaning against the wall by the bed.

"Uh huh," something about Sam's face stuck a nerve in Dean.

"What's wrong?" Dean questioned, furrowing his eyebrows.

"N-Nothing," Sam shook his head.

"You cold or something?" Dean pressed.

Sam shook his head, "No."

Dean raised his eyebrows suspiciously, "Then why do you got your covers up to your neck Sammy?"

Sam bit his lower lip nervously, "Dean… you can't tell Dad…"

"What?" immediately older brother instinct went off, "What's wrong Sammy?"

Sam swallowed hard and took a deep breath before talking, "Dean-- there's some… guys at school. The first day of classes I was talking to this girl; Carrie. And I guess she was the girlfriend of some guy named Tyler, because next thing I knew I had a group of about six of them really pissed off at me."

Dean could feel his heart beat quicken, "Sam, were they the ones that gave you the black eye and the split up lip?"

Sam silently nodded.

"Damn it!" Dean cussed out loudly, "I'll kick their fricken asses. Who were they Sammy?"

"Dean, no," Sam shook his head frantically, "No, please. I can handle this."

"Apparently not very well," Dean gestured towards his little brother, and as he did so, something occurred to him, "Sam… move the blanket."

"No," Sam's voice was quiet.

"Sam, I'm going to give you to the count of three before I make you move it," Dean threatened, getting a serious look on his face as he placed his beer bottle down and leaned towards the bed.

"Dean, it's not that bad," Sam insisted as he pushed back the blanket.

Dean swallowed hard, seeing a towel laid across Sam's left arm, and an icepack pressed against it. Wordlessly Dean got off the chair and moved to sit beside his brother on the bed.

"Lemme see," he ordered.

Sam pivoted around and stuck his arm out towards Dean. Carefully Dean removed the ice pack, and, taking a breath inwards, pulled back the towel. Sam's whole forearm was about twice the size it should have been, and a large, dark lump stuck out of the side between his wrist and elbow.

"Oh God, Sammy," Dean whispered out, running his fingers gently across the arm; Sam flinching in pain.

"It's not that bad," Sam repeated, his voice cracking.

"Dude, your arm is broken," Dean shook his head sympathetically.

"No," a single tear fell down Sam's face, "No… man…"

"Hey," Dean forced a grin, "It'll be alright Kid. You can sit in the front seat of the Impala on the way to the hospital, and I won't even put on the music you hate. Then you can tell me where these kids are, and I'll beat the crap out of them, and make sure they know that if they ever touch my little brother again, I'll show them the cool end of a gun."

A ghost of a smile came to Sam's lips as he shook his head, "No Dean-- please, I don't want to make this any worse."

"Well, we can discuss it on the way, but we gotta go now," Dean stood up, "Black, blue and bumpy is not a look for you dude."

"What about Dad?" Sam asked quietly.

"What about him?" Dean shrugged getting up, "This wasn't your fault Sammy. You said there was what-- six people? That's not exactly fair."

"I know," Sam looked worried, "But Dad… he taught us to fight and hunt and everything. I should have--"

"What?" Dean laughed, "Shot them with rock salt? Come on man…"

Sam sighed, "Alright."

"Come on," Dean nodded towards the door, "We have to go."

Reluctantly Sam got up and followed his brother out of the room and down the hall; replacing the towel and icepack as he went.

John met his sons in the living room, "What's going on?"

"Uhh--" Dean glanced at Sam before looking at their Dad, "Sammy is having some problems with some guys at school. But I'll take care of it-- don't worry."

"Sammy, what happened to your arm?" John questioned, eyeing the covered body part.

"I was outnumbered Dad," Sam immediately defended.

"Let me see," John left no question to his request.

Sam hesitated a moment, giving a quick glance to Dean before removing the towel. John took a deep breath, and gently took the arm in his hands, the whole while Sam slowly tensed, and he felt his lower lip tremble.

"It's ok Sammy," John spoke softly, "I'm not mad at you."

Sam nodded silently as his Dad continued to look over the arm. Dean stood behind Sam, a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Alright," John replaced the icepack carefully around the injury, "Take him to the hospital, and then call me as soon as you know anything."

"Yes Sir," Dean obediently agreed, "Come on Sammy."

John smiled and rubbed Sam's back. Giving a weak smile back at his Dad, Sam followed his big brother out the door and to the sleek, black Impala. Dean helped him inside, and the two took off down the road.

"So Sammy," Dean spoke up after a few moments of silence, "What do you want me to do about this?"

Sam shrugged, staring out the window.

"This can't go on dude," Dean's voice was soft, "At this rate, they'll have you dead by the end of first quarter." this got a small smile out of Sam, and the elder brother went on, "Listen kid… I'm your big brother, I'm supposed to protect you; supposed to keep you safe."

"I know," Sam whispered.

"It's hard enough to watch out for your ass when an angry spirit is after you, or some God damned demon is trying to smash you through a window, or choke the life out of you." Dean paused, "But when it's some… person… dude, I just feel…"

"…I know," Sam interrupted, "I just-- I want to handle some stuff on my own. You and Dad are always looking out for me, and trying to protect me, or stopping me from getting hurt. I want to feel like I can do something to help myself or someone else."

"You do help," Dean chuckled, "Dude just last week you stopped that werewolf from attacking Dad! And then the water demon in Stanford-- I would have drowned if it wasn't for you."

Sam smiled, "I guess…"

"Now these guys," Dean pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, "I think I can round up some of my… friends--"

"You mean your drinking buddies?"

"Shut up Sammy," Dean frowned before continuing, "… anyways, I think I can get some people, and go down to the school to give these boys a good scare."

"Dean, I don't want you to hurt them," Sam sat in the stopped car.

Dean thought about this, "Alright… I promise I won't hurt them."

"And no gun," Sam warned, "The last time you did that, the police were after us, and Dad had to make us move."

Dean grinned fondly, "Yeah… I remember that."

Sam frowned.

"Ok, ok, no guns," Dean agreed, "We'll go down there, and make them pee themselves with the sheer, intimidating aura I have."

Sam laughed, and looked down at his hurt arm, "Thanks Dean."

Dean grinned, and tousled Sam's hair, "Hey… what are big brothers for?"

The End.