It was a curious thing, shivering while simultaneously nursing a small burn. Nine-year-old Dean Winchester was just trying to make a pot of spaghetti, but he had forgotten about the metal handle on the small pot he was using, and his small hand still stung from grasping the hot metal without thinking. The rest of his body had goosebumps from the lack of heat in the small, run-down apartment.

The pain ebbing away, Dean wrapped his hand carefully in a dishtowel before once more grabbing the pot. Within minutes, the stove was turned off and the pasta was divided into three bowels.

Taking two of the bowels into his hand, Dean turned around and smiled. Behind him, sitting innocently while swinging his legs back and forth from his seat at the beat-up kitchen table, was Sam Winchester, Sammy, Dean's little brother.

"Dinner's ready." As Dean placed the chipped bowls on the table, the four-year-old smiled widely at his big brother.

"Thanks Dean!" Sam began to dig into the meal, and Dean smiled, before grabbing the third bowl and walking hesitantly into the adjoining living room.

"…Dad?" The man in question was currently buried in piles of books and notes; his body hunched over from hours spent searching for answers to his latest hunt. John Winchester grunted to acknowledge the presence of his eldest. Dean looked at him warily. "Dinner's ready."

"Just put it next to my coffee." The older man answered gruffly, still not looking up. Dean sighed and went to place the food beside the mug on the coffee table. Unfortunately, as he was straightening back up, his arm moved to fast, mistakenly tipping the cracked and worn mug over, spilling the small amount of remaining liquid on the table to be soaked into the scattered papers.

John immediately scrambled to pull his work away from the small mess. "Damn it Dean!" His voice roared, and Dean flinched.

"I'm sorry Dad-"

"This is why I don't like you boys around when I work," John interrupted, "You're always messing things up!" Hastily gathering his notes, the oldest Winchester stood and stalked into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. The small bowl of pasta was left untouched on the coffee table.

Dean swallowed back his tears, unable to make himself move from his place in the living room. Just when he thought he might lose his composure, and pair of small, gentle arms wrapped themselves firmly around his waist. Looking down, Dean's eyes locked with Sammy's. The little boy gave a small, watery smile.

"It's okay Dean." Sammy whispered. "Dad still loves you. I love you, too. I'll never leave you."

Dean swallowed thickly again, kneeling down and twisting so that he could return his brother's hug. Burying his nose in the boy's soft, downy hair, Dean finally pulled himself together, standing up and smiling down at Sam, sparing just a moment to wipe at his eyes.

"Come on, Sammy. Let's finish dinner."

Hand in hand, the two brothers returned to the kitchen. For the moment, it was all they needed.


Just a little drabble that got stuck in my head after hearing that one line from Dean in "Dark Side of the Moon". Not sure how I feel about this. I don't particularly like it, but I couldn't work on my other projects until I got it out of my head. XP

Any form of review, be it comments, criticisms, flames, etc. are welcomed and encouraged! Thank you for reading! ~BFMS