Graveyard Digger, Coffin Case Sinner

All The Small Things

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

There was silence, and Dean's eyes shifted to his 10-year-old brother. The boy was staring at the ground, pulling apart the head of a daisy he had picked. Hazel eyes lifted to him after several seconds, and the younger boy asked,

"Why does John hate us?"

The fourteen-year-old thought, for a moment, about telling a lie. He considered telling the other boy that their father loved them, not hated them. Those trusting eyes watched him, waiting for his response, and he knew he couldn't lie to his little brother. He shifted a bit, making himself more comfortable against the tree propping him up, before saying,

"He's got issues. They don't really have anything to do with me and you. He never really got over mom dying, and drinking makes him an asshole. He drinks a lot so he's an asshole a lot."

His green gaze shifted to Sam as he added, "You tell me if he's mean to you, Sammy. I'll make him stop."

"How?" the question was only a bit of a challenge; he knew his brother trusted his word. Still, he was silent for a long moment, eyes on the skyline. Finally he muttered,

"I'll find a way. If he's mean to you, you tell me."

He would, too. If it meant tearing the man that called himself their father apart, he would do whatever he had to do to protect Sam.

A smile touched the teenager's mouth as his baby brother scooted closer. He wrapped his arm around the younger boy, tugging Sam against his side. His heart skipped a beat as Sam smiled up at him, sweet and pure and trusting.

It was precious to him, Sam's love. He would burn anything in his path to keep it, to keep his little brother, safe. Father included.

Sam shifted to press his face against Dean's shoulder, slipping a skinny arm around his waist. "Glad I got you, Dean," he heard the younger boy mumble. He hugged the boy close and dropped a kiss on his shaggy hair.

"Always going to have me, Sammy. Always."

Sam was his and he was Sam's, and there wasn't anything in the world that would change that, he vowed silently to himself. Not ever. The Devil himself couldn't take the boy from him, because Dean would tear Hell apart to get him back. It was an oath he had made the day his brother was born, and one he renewed at this moment, beneath a giant Oak, with his brother against his side and nature as his witness.

He hugged Sam closer, fingers stroking through his hair, and listened to his brother breathing. Safe, and close, and his.