Demons I Get

Summary: 1-shot. Short little story in Dean's POV. After a tragedy in the news makes Sam ask a hard question, it's up to Dean to find an answer when even he has none.

Warnings: A few bad words.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This is simply written as a fan.

Author Note: This is probably the shortest thing I've ever written but Dean was talking today & I got to thinking how he and Sam might view things that happen in the world.

SPN SPN SPN SPN

"Why, Dean? Why do people do stuff like this?"

Looking into the deep and soulful hazel eyes of my younger brother isn't always easy but when he's confused and emotional and those eyes go into what I've termed as his puppy dog eyes look then it's nearly painful. Especially when I don't have the answers that Sam's always expected me to have.

Ask me why witches do whatever it is witches do and I can probably rattle off an answer. Ask me about demons, shapeshifters, vampires, killer clowns and I'd be able to come up with an almost believable reply.

Those were things I knew about. Those were things I could explain rationally even when most other people would be running in the opposite direction but coming up with a reply or explanation to the single question Sam asked me the second I walked back in the door after making a food run and I'm at a loss.

It was rare for Sam to watch TV when we were staying at a motel but since I'd almost fully grounded him from any activity but resting since this latest trial had sort of knocked him for a loop he'd been absently flipping through the channels when I'd left.

I was trying to keep Sam stress free so I'd locked his laptop in the Impala's trunk for at least a day. I'd thought mindless TV would help him to relax and rest. My mistake was not remembering that while we fought the weird and unnatural on a daily basis, the rest of the world could also be a source of stress for my overly emotional little brother.

A quick look at the TV channel that Sam'd been watching when I got back instantly clued me in to what he'd seen that had prompted the question.

Sam will be thirty in a few weeks but it never ceases to amaze me that at times when he's been hurt, or he's sick, or he's been really upset that he can still look like that helpless twenty-two year old he'd been the night his girlfriend died at Stanford.

We've both been through Hell, literally, in the past eight years but it's things like what I'm watching reply on the grainy TV screen that brings back something I'd learned early on while hunting with our Dad and trying to keep Sammy safe from every little thing.

My Dad taught me how to hunt the things that lived in the dark that other people thought were myths. I've been face to fang with vampires, werewolves and other things that weren't supposed to exist but it's seeing the tears on Sam's face as he watched the TV anchor grimly discuss the newest tragedy that brought to home to me.

Sammy and I, others like us, fight to keep people safe from the things in the dark that preyed on people's innocence.

Other men and women were another type of hunter. They hunted the kind of monsters that would hurt innocents simply because they wanted to, for some religious or political reason or any other number of excuses. I wish them luck because I fear that those types of monsters will be harder to wipe out than even what Sam and I hunt.

Tonight as I'm forced to see the pain in Sam's eyes as his huge heart aches for all those people who were hurt or killed and he struggles to understand how a human being could be so cruel as to hurt another human like this I don't have the perfect answer for him.

Finally having seen and heard enough, I shut the TV off so he isn't watching it all night then I lay a hand on his shoulder and meet those same huge puppy eyes that shined with tears and give him the best answer I know…

"Demons I get, Sammy…but some people are just damn crazy."

The End