Thanks for the reviews! Sorry for a short update but it's late! lol.


Dean watched his brother fall into an exhausted sleep. He then lifted Sam's shirt and cursed softly as he saw the bruises and scars across the chest, stomach, and back.

"Damn it, Sammy," he whispered softly, tears in his eyes. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Suddenly his phone started to ring. Quickly he answered it and hurried out of the room so he wouldn't disturb Sam.

"Hello?"

"Dean?"

He let out a breath as he heard his father's voice.

"Dad?"

"Look son, I can't stay on for very long but I have a close lead on the thing that killed your mother, so it's going to take a while longer than I thought. I wanted to call first though, to see how Sammy was."

Dean froze. What would he say? John would come home and probably want Sam in a hospital. And he'd lose the chance of killing the sonofabitch that killed his mother.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"How's Sam?" John's voice held honest concern.

"He's fine," Dean finally lied. "I was just worrying too much."

John chuckled.

"Happens to the best of us. Good thing you're with him instead of here though. It might get too dangerous and I can't be worried about you while I'm after this thing."

"I know."

"And this way I also know someone's taking care of Sam."

"Yeah…" I was too late dad, to take care of him. I was too late…

John paused, unsure of what else to say.

"Can I speak to Sam?" He finally decided to ask. He would have felt guilty if he hadn't asked. Dean sucked in his breath. Damn it, how was he going to get out of this one?

"Uh…he's sleeping."

"Sleeping?" John sounded surprised. "Is he sick?"

"No, just really tired," Dean assured him. "He had a tough weak at school. The teachers really piled on the homework."

He could almost see John frown.

"All right…" John's voice trailed off. "I'll call you when I have the time," he decided to say, for some reason now wanting to linger. Dean's throat closed.

"Okay."

"Take care of Sammy."

How many times have Dean heard John casually mention that, almost out of habit if anything else.

"Yeah okay, dad, you know I always do." Except that I didn't do it, not this time.

He finally hung up in time to hear noises coming from the bedroom.

"Sammy?" He hurried in to see his brother tossing and turning, moaning in his sleep.

"No…please, no…" His brother was sobbing now and fighting seemingly invisible hands.

"Sam?" He shook his brother's shoulders. "Sammy, wake up! You're dreaming." He shook his brother's shoulders again. Sam jolted up ,gasping for breath.

"It's okay Sammy." Dean ran his hands through his brother's hair. "It's okay, I've got you."

"Dean?" Sam's voice was trembling.

"Yeah, I'm here."

Sam's body shook.

"They were coming after me," he whispered. "So many of them…I tried to defend myself. I really tried."

"I know," Dean murmured, trying to control the shakiness of his own voice. "I know."

"I tried," Sam continued to whimper. "I tried."

"Sh.." Dean grabbed his brother into a tight hug. Sam stiffened at the physical contact but soon relaxed himself. "It's over now, no one's gonna hurt you again." I'll kill them before anyone lays a hand on you.

Sam quietly started to sob onto Dean's shoulder again and slowly Dean started to sing, something that used to calm Sam down as a kid, and slowly tucked Sam back into bed while singing the lullaby their mother had song to him and running his hands over Sam's hear. Slowly Sam fell asleep, those haunting faces were vanishing and were slowly being replaced by the soothing and protecting tone his brother singing as he finally fell into a dreamless sleep.