Warning: Abuse, language and death! Don't like don't read! This is AU, and I'm a little unsure if it's way to AU, please tell.

I got this idea from a poem written by a person who was abused the first 12 years of her life, her older sister died under the abuse. The poem is written by her, and is about how she sometimes think about her big sister looking down at her, helping her through her darkest hours.

Read the original poem at my profile page.

John and Mary both died in the fire, and Sam and Dean were adobted. This is both Sam and Dean's POV. We all know, the dead stays, if they've got unfinished business, and Dean is not in peace, he never was, and he will NOT rest before his baby brother is safe. The first, italic, text is from the poem.

Disclaimer: I don't owe Dean and Sam or Supernatural. I didn't write the poem, so I don't owe that either! I changed the poem from little sister to little brother, though.
And of course reviews are amazing! And so are the people who give them!


Hush Little Brother.

Chapter 1: Please don't cry.

Hush, little brother
Please don't cry
I wish I could be there
To sing you a lullaby.

Sam was standing at Dean's grave; Dean could see him, right there in front of him, but he couldn't touch him, God he wished he could, grab him, hold him tight, taking him away from their foster father, but he couldn't, never again could he touch his baby brother, he would NEVER leave him, though.

He might be dead and all that, but by some reason he wasn't totally gone, he had stayed on planet Earth and stayed with his brother, but Sam couldn't see him. Dean had met other dead people and the living people could see them, actually they ran away, screaming, when they saw them, but they couldn't see Dean, nobody could, but Sam could definitely feel his presence. Every time Dean talked to him or tried to touch him, Sam's facial expression would chance into a childish, hopeful and innocent face.

Dean laughed at that thought, Sam was thirteen, but had experienced much, much more than anyone else, child or grown up, should ever have to experience, there was no child left in Sam anymore, but when Dean was there he looked so innocent and hopeful. Sometime Sam would actually talk to Dean, like he knew he was there, telling him how much he missed him, and how much he wished he was there. Sam would even talk about his dreams, how he wished he could live in a big house with a garden full of lilies, it was the only flower Dean had ever liked and told Sam about, how he would run around and play with his dog, how he could swim in the lake, which would be laying right beside the house, and how he would take care of Dean, because in Sam's world Dean would be there, he would talk about homework, and everything between heaven and earth, but he never mentioned his pain, the beating, their foster father or anything related to that. It was like, when Dean was there, Sam would be in a safe world, in a world with no evil, just him, and Dean in some weird kind of way.

Sam was laying a bouquet of lilies on Dean's grave, taking the faded lilies, from last time he was there, away. Sam would bring lilies every time he came; and it made Dean smile every time, though he knew he would bring them. He did follow Sam around everywhere, also in the flower store, it just warmed something inside of him, if he had an inside.

After Sam was done with the flowers he would brush the gravestone, kissing his own fingers and then rest them on the stone, saying he loved Dean, before he would head home, same routine as always, but it was the only thing, except the talking, that made Sam hold on to Dean, the only way Sam could feel Dean.

Sam was walking home, his head bowed, making himself as invisible as possible and Dean would be following right beside him, he couldn't tell Sam to look up, and face the day, and deepest down Dean wouldn't ask him to do that. Sam was hiding for the world, didn't wanted anybody to see his face, or worse, see into his eyes, seeing how he was really feeling, because then questions would be asked, and Mick, their foster father, would be angrier than he already was. Dean knew, he saw what happened to his brother, hell he had been there himself, and he wouldn't want to make him angrier.

Mick was always angry, angry because he had to take care of Sam, and Dean when he was alive, angry Dianna, his wife, had died, he had blamed them for being the reason, Dean could remember her, she had been the nicest person in the world, sometime he wondered if his mom had been like her. Sam and Dean's parents had died in a fire when Dean had been 4 years old, and Sam had been 6 month, and Dean couldn't remember anything before the time afterwards, when Sam and Dean had been adopted by Dianna and Mick. Dianna had had long black hair, big brown eyes and the nicest smile, Mick had been happy that time too; he was around 6 feet tall, had blond hair and blue eyes. Dianna had died by cancer one year later; Sam wouldn't be able to remember anything, but Mick had been so heartbroken he was started drinking, and when it first took over he started beating Dean, and with the time Sam too, saying they killed her, they were useless and he wished they weren't there.

When they got home to the house, Mick had by some reason been allowed to retain his job and earned enough money to stay in the two floor house they had always lived in, Sam ran up to his room, Dean following right behind him. The house had seen better days, but he also knew the one who had to clean the mess was Sam, and in the moment Sam had a lot of other things to think about.

But today it was Saturday, Sam had made his homework, Dean had watch him do it, Sam might be shy and very discreet, but he was clever, it was a smart head sitting on that slim body, and Mick wouldn't be home before tomorrow, something about a meeting, and Dean wondered why Sam didn't run, run away from all this, but on the other side he knew exactly why, where would he go? Every time Sam, and Dean, had tried to tell somebody, they wouldn't listen, they said they knew Mick and the bruises was just something they made themselves.

So instead Sam throw himself on his bed, buried his head in his arms and started sobbing, he always did that after visiting Dean's grave and all Dean did was sitting down beside him, trying to awkwardly hug Sam. Sam flinched, and actually learned a little into Dean, like he could feel him.

As Dean 'hold' Sam, he looked around the room, seeing a closet for Sam's clothes, then there was the bed, and a desk standing in front of the only window in the small room, here Sam would make his homework, and on the desk Sam's favourite thing was standing, Sam had told Dean that the picture of them, taken before Dianna died, was his favourite, and Sam would often take the picture up and just staring at it for hours, sometimes he even fell asleep with the picture in his arms.

Then Dean turned his attention back to Sam whose sobs where slowing.

"Please don't cry Sammy, this will stop soon, I'll do everything I can to make it stop," Dean knew he couldn't stop it, but he would try to make Sam comfortable, even if he couldn't hear him.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Dean, are you here?" Sam asked, he sometimes got the feeling his big brother was there, sometimes he could feel him, and other times he got an echo, inside his head, of Dean's voice trying to tell him something.

He had been visiting Dean's grave, he did that every other Saturday, because then Mick wasn't home, and he could do what he wanted. Other children might use the time to do something fun, but Sam would always visit Dean's grave, it was the only time he could, and the gravestone was like the only thing which Sam could touch and know it was Dean, Dean's stone, and by that it was Dean he touched. Otherwise he would be talking to Dean, every time he could feel or hear him he would talk, hoping Dean would suddenly appear, telling he never died, that he was just taken away and was now coming to save him from his nightmare. But Sam knew Dean was dead, he had been the one who found him in the morning, lying on the floor in a pool of blood, closed eyes and bruises covering his body, Sam had been the one trying to wake Dean, calling, yelling even slapped Dean, but gotten no response, he had been the one calling the ambulance, because Mick had just left, and he had just been 8 years old.

Sam couldn't hear any response, or feel anything, so he just took his long sleeved blouse, and jeans off, and put on his pyjamas. Sam looked at the clothes he had just taken off, he hated long sleeves, but it was the only thing which covered his bruised arms, and body. He always wore something that covered his body, Dean had told him to, then Mick wouldn't beat the crap out of him for not doing so, but the bruise on his jaw was had to cover, and when Dean and he had found out nobody believed in the truth, they had started making stories about the bruises they couldn't cover, it had always been that way, and it always would.

Sam laid down on his bed, and curled his duvet up around him, and then he remembered the nights when he had curled into Dean, after the beatings, and Dean would hug him, singing his own lullaby, till he fell asleep, and by the memory Sam started sobbing again, he just missed his brother so damn much.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Dean could see Sam lying down, trying to fall asleep, it was only eight, but Sam never stayed up for long, in these weekends when Mick wasn't home Sam would get his sleep, taking vengeance on all those nights he hadn't been able to sleep because of pain, and because of fear for Mick coming in and taking an after beating.

Then Dean could hear the sobs starting again, Sam was master in crying himself to sleep, after Dean had died Sam had had about 3 nights where he hadn't cried himself to sleep. Dean lay down beside Sam, and then he started singing the lullaby he always had sung for Sam when they were little.

As he sang, he could here the sobs stop, and Sam looked around for a moment, trying to find something, and then he actually smile, then laid down, and slowly fell asleep, while Dean sang. When Sam had smiled Dean had felt the urge to smile too, Sam never smiled and when he did it was only when someone was visiting Mick, or when someone asked if he was okay and he told he was and smiled his fake smile, but this time it had been a true smile, and he looked so much younger when he smiled, Dean liked it, it just made him wish he could take Sam away, taking him a place he could smile all the time.

When Sam finally slept, Dean closed his eyes and slept his non-sleep, he was dead, and apparently ghost couldn't sleep, but he could lay down, listen to his baby brothers small breathe, knowing he would wake up tomorrow, to a day where Mick would come home.


TBC...