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It was dark, only a faint light from the motel car park seeped through the window, making shadows dance across the stained walls of their room.
Dean fidgeted on the bed for the hundredth time or so, he thought. He was unable to sleep, unable to chase away the memories of his Mom, of his old home, his own room.
It had been six weeks or so since the fire, six weeks of moving from one motel to another, six weeks of his Daddy- mostly drinking something from a bottle that made him act funny and six weeks of Dean being the one responsible for his little brother Sammy.
Dean burrowed himself into his blankie, squeezing his eyes harshly…forcing himself to sleep and to forget. The more he remembered, the more he missed her.
And by now he had understood…. Mommy had gone….gone forever…she was never going to come back.
But he didn’t cry. Crying wasn’t going to do any good. It wouldn’t bring her back, and the only thing it would do was make his Daddy mad….
He missed his Daddy. Even though he was here, mostly it felt like he wasn’t. He had changed.
Before the fire Daddy was always happy, playing with him, taking him to the park, for picnics and even the mall, bought him and Sammy new toys.
But he wasn’t like that anymore.
Daddy was mad a lot these days. He didn’t cuddle him or Sammy anymore, didn’t talk, wouldn’t put them to sleep like before. Dean thought Daddy missed Mommy, but he didn’t even cry like he and Sammy did. He stayed quiet all the time, brooding, thoughtful and always angry.
At first it wasn’t so bad. They had shifted to Aunt Katie’s house after their house burnt down. And Daddy had spent most of his time with them. He looked after them, replaced their burnt clothes with new ones, and brought whatever he and Sammy required. And most of all he took care of them. Slowly teaching Dean to look after his brother’s needs too.
He would hug them when they cried. Take both him and Sammy in his arms and let them have his arms protecting them, giving them something to lean on as they mourned the loss of their Mother.
But it didn’t remain that way for long… his father got busy, stayed away for longer. Even after they had left Aunt Katie’s place, he’d leave them with his new friends… Who were all strangers to him and Sammy…
Dean spent that time taking care of his little brother, protecting him from strangers and worrying himself sick that Daddy wouldn’t come back.
But when he did, he was relieved that whatever happened, at least his Daddy hadn’t abandoned them.
As the days went by, Daddy grew surly. He drank the big people juice all the time, and slept for what felt like forever. When he was awake, he would be working. Reading through big fat books and writing notes.
He’d at least fetch some food for him and Sammy…but never made it for them nor fed them like both Mommy and Daddy did before.
Rarely would he pick Sammy up when he cried or needed something. Many a times he forget it was lunch or dinner time and didn’t even make their meals.
Dean didn’t mind though, because not like he was hungry anymore. But Sammy was little and needed his food. So when Sammy would cry Dean tottered to his dad, prod him awake from his stupor if he was asleep or distract him if he had been working…. gesturing to a crying Sammy. Heavy lidded and surly Daddy would wake up…sometimes even guilty of having forgotten and would give them both their food.
But as the days went by his grumpiness turned to irritation, then to annoyance and then to full blown rage. If Dean went to sit on Daddy’s lap he would roughly push him down, if he went to call him because Sammy was hungry or wet he would snap at him.
Dean grew quieter and quieter…until he finally stopped talking. Eventually realising that they hadn’t just lost their Mommy, they had lost Daddy too.
With that realisation dawning on him…something changed. It struck him…that from now on he would have to be the responsible one. His Dad wasn’t going to be aware enough to look out even for himself, let alone him or his brother. And because he loved his family so much, he had to be the one tending to them….especially Sammy.
His baby brother was so tiny…just eight months old…who needed someone to watch out for him, care for his every need like Mommy did. He remembered when his Mom had explained to him about babies and little brothers when Sammy had been born. And like a good Big Brother, Dean had absorbed all the information, even trying to help her with the baby. While he had gotten to be with Sammy…his Dad had always been at work. So he wasn’t sure he knew or understood much about the baby anyway.
Plus sometimes he felt like he couldn’t trust Dad. Especially since sometimes he got annoyed at Sammy for crying and refused to pay heeds to his needs.
And that was when he had decided- He wasn’t going to go running to his Dad anymore. Not for himself, not for Sammy…not unless Daddy needed or asked for him. From now he would try and take care of his brother all by himself.
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A soft murmur broke through his thoughts. And Dean quickly sat up, his heart thudding.
Ever since Mommy had died, Dean couldn’t help but feel fearful at every little sound in the dark. He instantly turned towards where his little brother was to make sure he was safe.
Then breathed in relief, realising that the sound had come from his brother, who was now awake and flailing around in his crib as if searching for something. Dean slowly got out of bed, tip toing towards the cot.
Sammy stopped moving instantly, instead looked up at his brother and began crying. His tiny fists clenching and unclenching, wanting to be picked up.
Dean who could never refuse Sammy anything…. immediately lowered the rail of the crib and bent down to pick his brother. Sammy was still small, but since Dean was not too big himself it wasn’t always easy to pick him, especially while standing.
But to Dean, he didn’t feel heavy. He carefully held his brother with both arms encasing around his little frame.
Happy at being picked up Sam was distracted from the growling of his hungry tummy that had woken him up. He cooed, nestling himself to Dean’s chest. Dean smiled at him softly and then slowly walked back to the bed, sitting down carefully to not jostle his brother. He rubbed Sammy’s back gently, placing soft kisses to his brow, and couldn’t help grin when his brother gurgled in pleasure.
Sammy was the only reason he ever felt happy nowadays, was the only one he smiled for. And although he found it hard to talk and chose to remain silent with the world, Sammy was also the only one he spoke to.
Perturbed by the silence Sam’s attention was diverted back to his hungry, growly tummy and he began wailing again.
Suddenly shaken out of his thoughts Dean lost a bit of his grip on Sam who slid down, causing him to whine and take his crying a notch higher.
Dean scrabbled for balance and gently pulled Sam back in his arms again,” It’s okay Sammy, I won’t let you go,” Dean assured his little brother softly, his voice hoarse due to the lack of use.
Dean cuddled Sammy closer, petting his back and kissing his head to put him back to sleep. But Sam needed food and kept crying, trying to let his displeasure be known.
As his habit, Dean then went onto check if Sammy was wet…hoping he wasn’t.
He knew to take care of his brother pretty well. He had seen his mom, then dad change Sammy and grasped it soon. But changing diapers was tricky and also yucky if Sammy had pooed.
He was relieved to find Sammy didn’t need to be changed. Second was to find if Sammy was sick. Dean felt for his own head, then placed his palm on Sammy’s to gauge for a fever, but Sammy felt fine. That only meant one thing – Sammy was hungry.
“Hungry Sammy?” Dean cooed, holding out his finger to Sam who grabbed at it, slobbering all over it. “Eww Sammy…stop,” Dean squirmed, and freed his finger from Sam’s mouth…hastily wiping it on the bedspread. His exclamation making Sam cry harder.
“I am sorry Sammy….so sorry,” Dean softly cajoled his brother, who continued to cry.
Feeling bad for alarming his brother Dean rocked him in his arms trying to quieten him.
“Sshh Sammy… shh…stop crying. Please stop crying?” Dean softly implored. “I know you’re hungry, but you don’t worry I’ll get you food….yummy milk!” Dean gestured, bright eyed and cheerful to calm his brother.
But he was in a fix. If he’d take Sammy along with him to the kitchen his incessant crying would wake Daddy who was currently sleeping on the pull out. And if he left Sammy in the room he’d get frightened too, not understanding why his brother had left him.
He thought of distracting Sam with his toys for a few moments till he could warm up his milk. So he gathered his brother securely to his chest and got down the bed towards the crib. But as soon as Sam realised what was happening, he held his legs stiffly, his lips quivered and streaks of tears ran down his cheeks.
Even if Dean could have attempted to appease him, those tears didn’t let him. He could never see his brother in tears or distress. He’d have to take Sammy along. Sammy was hungry and he’d get his food even if Dean had to bear Daddy’s anger. He could do anything for his brother.
Dean held his brother close, wiping his tears, kissing his cheeks in apology,” Don’t worry Sammy, I am not going anywhere okay? Let’s get you food,” Dean said, then as an afterthought picked Sammy’s pacifier and offered it to him.
Sam loved the pacifier, it always calmed him. So he readily opened his mouth for Dean to place it there, and happily sucked at it. His cries dying down to silent whimpers. Relieved to have bought himself time, Dean held him firmly at his hip and walked out to the kitchen.
Dean and Dad both knew Sammy got hungry at night. So they always left his bottle filled with milk, ready to heat.
Tip-toeing and as noiselessly as possible. Dean fetched the pan from the counter top and filled it with water. The sink had been low, but he was too small to reach the stove. It would be hard to drag the chair without making noise and he couldn’t even put Sammy down.
He put all his strength and raised himself as high as he could on his toes, stretching his arms to place the pan on the burner.
And then it happened. His tiny body couldn’t take all the weight on his little feet and he lost balance, the pan of water flung from his hand crashing down to the floor. Dean clung to Sammy and quickly groped at the cabinet door to avoid from falling down, relieved when he regained balance.
The crash scared Sammy and he began sobbing loudly this time and all the furore finally woke Daddy up.
Dean hugged Sammy to himself, crooning softly in his ears, tearing up at the mess he’d ended up creating.
From the corner of his eyes he saw his Dad jerk awake in alarm….Dean’s heart skipped a beat when he realised it was a gun. Why did Daddy have a gun? His mouth dried, body trembled as his father approached him.
“What the hell is going on?” John bellowed still panting at the sudden surge of panic he’d felt seconds ago. He’d just lost Mary. Still unsure what had taken her? He wasn’t ready to lose his sons too.
He approached nearer and breathed a sigh of relief seeing both his sons’ safe…Relief that quickly turned into anger at Dean for scaring him thus.
“Dean? What’s going on? You know better than scaring me like this. After…-“John paused pinching his nose as his head throbbed, regretting how much he’d had to drink that night.
His scowl deepened further hearing his little one’s cries, “You’ve even scared Sammy now Dean. What was so important that you had to wake him up?” John reproached.
“Dean!!!” John called out again, expecting answers. But Dean stayed silent, like he always did.
Dean scrunched his nose as the waft of alcohol from his father revolted him and he retreated to the corner, away from him.
John walked closer, only to step on the spilled water. He looked down and then around putting pieces together to understand what Dean had been doing.
Shame washed over him when he realised his elder one had only been trying to warm some milk for his little brother. He moved closer to Dean, to apologise only for Dean to move further away. Noticing Dean staring towards his hands, John looked down…realizing he’d been holding the gun and quickly hid it behind his coat.
John wanted to say something, anything to make it better, but one look at Dean and the wailing baby in his arms and he set about doing what was more urgent. He was drunk, but not so useless that he would leave his four and a half year old to do what was clearly his job.
He picked the pan that had fallen to wash it, refilling it with water and placed it on the burner. Then placed Sam’s milk bottle in the centre leaving it to warm.
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Dean sat edged in the corner, huddled with Sammy in his arms. The sight of his brother sobbing so much so that his face had swollen bought tears to his own eyes.
He had completely failed. He’d failed at getting his brother food, disturbed Daddy and scared Sammy so much that nothing he did would make him stop crying.
But he kept trying. Hugged his brother close, patted his back gently, and even rocked him in his arms like he had seen Mommy do. But he wasn’t Mom, and even if he tried his hardest to do everything she did for the both of them, he could never compensate for her absence.
When Sammy’s cries grew hoarse, Dean leaned over to the cabinet to fetch his sippy cup. Held it out for Sam to sip some water, hoping it would distract him till he could get his midnight meal.
Thankfully the cool water felt good to little Sammy, who was mollified enough to stop crying for a while.
But Dean wasn’t happy. He’d only be relieved when Sammy would shine his toothless grin for him, pat his hands and kick his feet, as the baby did when he was happy.
He waited anxiously for Daddy to finish.
He knew Daddy would be scolding him. And he didn’t mind it. He’d been bad.
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John faked concentrating on the milk but couldn’t help glance Dean surreptitiously, who was trying to feed his brother some water in an effort to calm him down, fill his tummy a little to cease his painful sobs.
He quickly prepared Sam’s bottle and handed it over to Dean. Dean looked up at him shiny eyed, his face softened with gratitude. Thankful his father hadn’t reprimanded him like usually did; had warmed Sammy’s milk and helped them. But before he John could utter anything, make a move, Dean skittered back to their room.
John turned away, teary-eyed and barely awake ….he dragged himself back to the couch.
Mary would have hated what he was doing. He’d totally been ignoring his sons. He kept running away, squatting in abandoned homes, ratty motels. Still unable to process what had happened with his family. Still trying to understand the faceless evil that had destroyed their lives. Every day he learned something new, something that darkened his dreary mind even more. He drank to escape it, drank enough to drown in a dreamless stupor.
And amidst everything, he’d forgotten his sons. He did the bare minimum of stocking their supplies. But he hadn’t once held his eldest to ask if he was okay. Picked him or Sam up and cuddled them or put them to bed.
He hadn’t once tried making his eldest talk. Dean kept going deeper into a shell and John stood by and did nothing.
Mentally Dean seemed to have grown up by five years in the span of the last six weeks. Taken up responsibilities he shouldn’t had to be bothered about for a decade.
He took care of Sammy, so much that he was better at it than their own father. And even though John was perpetually angry, and snapped at him at just about everything…that kid also looked out for him.
Even now, ideally he should have taken Sammy from Dean, fed him and put him to sleep. But he had let Dean take the lead, take up the role of a caretaker at the tender age of four.
But he knew…he had to prepare them to be dependent on each other and not him. He knew the future would have them more alone than with him. The closer they were, better their chances of surviving what their life was now going to be.
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A few days of practice had taught Dean well. He knew it wasn’t possible for him to hold Sammy across his elbow like Mommy did. So whenever Sammy cried out of hunger, Dean would lower the cribs rail and get in with him. So Sammy could have his milk and fall asleep right there.
Recently Dean had been feeling like he was much older than four, but he knew he wasn’t so it was difficult to manoeuvre around with Sammy heavily laying in his arms.
He quickly pulled the rail down and unwound Sammy’s arms from around him, trying to lay him down. But Sammy clung harder and cried, saying something that sounded like “na….na…” although Dean was sure Sammy didn’t speak or understand words.
“It’s okay Sammy. I am not going anywhere,” but Sammy didn’t budge. And since Dean did not have the heart to refuse, he carefully got in the crib without putting him down.
Dean lay Sammy down, and stretched out beside him…didn’t even wait for Sam to make grabby hands and put the sipper to his lips.
Sammy happily guzzled his milk, making cute sucking noises that made Dean smile. He gently brushed Sam’s chest and stomach, though not quite sure why…it was instinctual.
Sammy, now calmer and happy to be slurping his mid-night feed finally deviated his attention to his brother, that so far only been on himself.
He looked at Dean, giddy-eyed, mouth curving into a tiny smile, his hands batting in the air excitedly.
Dean shook his head in amusement when, he saw streaks of milk dribbling down Sam’s cheeks and neck. He picked up Sammy’s bib to wipe his face clean. When Sam burred again, some more milk dribbled out.
“No Sammy, dirty,” Dean admonished him lightly and in seconds Sam ceased his little game... Sammy was too small to grasp words but he always understood Dean’s tone and responded.
But Sammy was in a playful mood and continued batting his little arms in the air. Eagerly staring at his brother, probably hoping for him to play along.
But Dean was serious and contemplative as he mostly was and didn’t respond. Which Sam didn’t quite appreciate, because how could his brother’s attention be anywhere but at him?
And like he usually did every night when Dean fed him his milk, he hooked his puny fingers around Dean’s chin tugging at it gleefully.
That caught Dean’s attention and he turned to lean his cheek in his brother’s tiny palms. Happy to have gotten a reaction from his brother, Sam let his fingers trail over Dean’s face, his cheeks and then his lips which he had fun pulling at.
When Sammy was cheerful and delighted it always uplifted Dean’s sombre mood too and he was unknowingly captivated by his brother’s innocence and mischief.
So when his brother’s finger tugged at his lip again, he playfully bit it. Delighted by it, Sammy added another and then another finger and Dean kept biting into it gently making Sammy beam and giggle.
Milk dribbled out of his mouth and tummy full he plucked the bottle out of his mouth, knocking it away. Dean couldn’t help but laugh at the picture Sammy was making. Giggling and squealing, with milk dripping from his mouth.
“No Sammy… enough… see you’re all dirty now,” Dean pretended to be stern but couldn’t help feel amusement and happiness. And wiped the milk from his face and chin, bending down to kiss both as some sort of reward.
It was rare for Sammy, to see his brother smile. Excited about it, Sammy tugged hard at Dean head with his tiny arms and bit his chin and nose…trying to kiss his Big Brother in his affection but only able to slobber all over Dean.
Dean internally winced at the wetness all over his face, but couldn’t help chuckle himself.
He loved his brother so much. Sometimes it felt like his heart would burst with all that adoration. He wondered idly what he would do if he didn’t have his brother. His dark, cloudy little world had only one ray of hope and light….his brother Sammy.
Brimming with love for him Dean, bent down to hug his brother, and whispered,” I love you Sammy.” Not caring if the kid didn’t understand anything he said.
But as if he had understood it all Sam squealed and continued to pull Dean’s chin so he could bite it.
“Ssshhh Sammy, no making noise…Daddy will be angry,” Dean coaxed him, then lied down next to him.
”Come on now…time to sleep…night night…” Dean said, nestling his brother into his arms. He cupped the back of his neck, gently grazing his brother’s head like Mom would do for him when he couldn’t sleep.
But when he looked down, Sam was still staring at him with an impish smile on his face. Dean chuckled at his mischievous and too awake brother. He’d have to put him to sleep anyhow before he started crying again. He was relieved Daddy hadn’t been too angry earlier. But if he was disturbed again, Dean was scared he wouldn’t be spared from his scolding this time.
Dean bent down to tap his nose,”Boop!” he teased. Then pulled Sammy’s little blanket over him and shut his own eyes so Sammy would copy like he often tried to.
Sammy squirmed, his fingers reaching out to poke Dean’s eye, trying to peel them open. When Dean didn’t relent, Sammy whimpered.
Dean knows that Sam was seconds away from a full blown bawl and then suddenly remembered….
His Mom would hum him a song when she put him to bed. He knew she did for Sammy too. And although still small he was sure that Sam in his own way would recognize it.
And so he started humming, soft and slow…matching it with his gentle caresses on Sam’s back.
He didn’t really remember all the words, so he just hummed the tune with all the love he could muster.
It wasn’t easy, because the song bought back so many memories of Mommy….It was difficult not to cry….But if he did Sammy would be frightened and cry too….So he swallowed back the little painful ball in his throat and bravely continued putting his little brother to sleep.
Sam squirmed for a while, but Dean kept his eyes closed…. Surely, some minutes later he felt his brother’s breathe even out.
He sneakily opened an eye and smiled….his brother had fallen asleep.
Dean thought of going back to his bed, but his brother was almost in his arms, if he’d move Sammy would wake up.
Anyway the closer he was to Sam, the more he could protect him.
He watched his brother sleep and couldn’t help but kiss his button like nose.
In the last few weeks, when everything seemed grim, when all that Dean wanted to was cry, when he woke up wet and trembling from nightmares. Sammy…was the only one who would make him feel anything. His smile, adorable actions, all of his first attempts …and their success or failures were what had kept the darkness away from him.
Sometimes it scared him how much he loved his brother. And while he diligently looked after him….it scared him how little Sammy really was. He wasn’t so dumb to understand that he was still little himself. Taking care of Sammy was a big responsibility. And he couldn’t ever fail it.
Sammy was relying on him and if he ever faltered it could harm his brother. And he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to lose any more of his family. Especially his brother, who he loves very dearly.
Dean is sad to even admit this to himself, but he doesn’t trust his Daddy anymore, not to care for Sammy and him the way Mommy and he did before. He loves him sure, looks up to him even. But the last few weeks have taught him that Daddy has changed for good. He might never become how he was like when Mommy was there.
With all the moving about, Daddy’s strange books and his frequent absence. Dean had come to understand that he’d be leaving them both alone more often. And he’d have to be ready.
And he would be, Dean thought…watching his brother shuffle in his sleep. He would do anything to watch out for Sammy.
He hugged his brother closer and sleepily mumbled,” I’ll always be there for you Sammy….”