A/N: I know I've been on the angst side for a while now, so I decided to write something a little lighter. My second attempt at a Weechester, hope you enjoy! To celebrate Canada Day (well, Independence Day for the boys) I decided to do something a little more fluff oriented. Thanks to all you wonderful followers, readers, reviewers, and PMers for your support! You guys rock! And as always, I do not own Supernatural, only borrowing Sam and Dean.
What Big Brothers Are For
Sammy couldn't sleep. Usually, with big brother Dean lying nearby, the seven-year-old could sleep through anything. Just the sound of his brother's even breathing in the bed beside him (and sometimes, as the little boy could admit, snuggled beside him, sharing a blanket) would be enough to ease the boy into slumber under normal circumstances, but this time, not even Dean could help Sam drift away. Daddy was gone on another of his strange trips, and they weren't even in America; John Winchester's latest hunt had brought the boys north of the border, to a little border town in New Brunswick called St. Stephen. By now Sammy was used to a lot of driving and living in motel rooms, but even with Dean to keep an eye on him, it was scary to be in a different country, especially when your Daddy went away again.
Outside, a loud pop startled Sam and he looked out the window. A splash of colour could be seen in the distance: golds, reds, whites, all showering the night sky in a bright spectacle. Quietly Sam pushed his covers aside and crept to the window, standing on his tiptoes as he peered out of the dirty pane into the darkness. It wasn't Independence Day yet, why were there fireworks? Oh yeah, not in America. Must be a special day in this strange place. But the impressive spectacle did little to comfort the little boy, only served to make him feel more miserable. Just a reminder that he would never really get to do something like that. A fat tear rolled down one chubby cheek, and Sam slowly went back to his bed and tried to fall asleep.
Finally the pops and flashes outside stopped, and the room was once again filled with darkness. Dean slept on, unaware of the fireworks or the fact that Sammy was feeling lonely and sad. Should he? The boy looked longingly to the other bed, where his brother was curled up comfortably, snoring gently. He was a big boy of seven now, didn't need to sleep with his older brother like a baby. But after a few minutes of crying softly, staring at the ceiling, Sam couldn't take it any longer. He sat up, reached to pull away his blankets…
And found Dean sitting beside him, a look of concern in his still sleep filled eyes.
"What's the matter, Sammy? Can't sleep?"
The little boy nodded, sniffling. He wiped his runny nose with his pajama top, and Dean made a silly face, pretending to be grossed out. As expected, the exaggerated facial expression was rewarded by a tiny laugh.
"Dean, you're silly."
"I know you are, but what am I?"
Sam giggled again, still traces of tears trickling along his face. Dean gently wiped them away with a finger. It hurt him to see Sammy upset like this. Dean was the big brother; he was supposed to make everything better. Even when they grew up and could do all those cool adult things Dad did, Sam would always be his little Sammy. And it was Dean's job to make sure that his kid brother was ok. Fed, clothed, warm, happy, and loved. Even if it meant acting a little different than most boys of eleven.
"What's the problem, squirt?"
Sam sniffled again, and felt the tears threaten to come back. But he didn't. He was a big boy, after all. So he swallowed the strange lump in this throat and told his big brother everything.
"I'm scared. Daddy's gone and we're in a strange country and I saw these fireworks and remembered that Daddy won't be here for Fourth of July and…and…"
So that was it. Well, that was something big brothers could fix easily. "Move over, Sammy," Dean said with a playful pat on the shoulder, and the boy obliged, allowing his brother to lay next to the little boy and wrap one arm around his little shoulders. "Don't be scared, Sammy. I'm here, remember? I'll always be here, if we're in Canada or America or.. or.. Timbuktu." Another laugh from Sammy. "That's a silly sounding place, Dean."
"It's a real place, I swear," Dean said solemnly, and the younger boy nodded. Dean would never lie to him. "The point is, kiddo, I know it sucks that Dad isn't here. But you'll always have me. And tomorrow we'll find some real fireworks and we'll have our own little lightshow. With cake and soda and everything."
"Really?" Sam's eyes widened like saucers at the thought. He and Dean would be doing something fun. Together. Something Daddy would probably never think to do even if he did come home in time for Fourth of July.
"I swear." Dean extended his pinky, looking at his little brother expectantly. "Pinky promise." How he was going to pull this off, the boy had no clue, but Sammy, extending his own tiny finger, nodded. The two "shook" on it, the deal sealed, and Sam finally fell asleep, happy to know that his big brother had slid beneath the covers and had fallen asleep beside him.
And true to his word, Dean gave little Sammy a Fourth of July that would not be topped until that magical night in 1996. The boy had managed to find two little sparklers and a few left over Canada Day cupcakes he had convinced the baker to decorate in red, white, and blue. It had taken all the money Dean had left, and he would be going hungry a few nights as he made sure Sammy ate his own supper, but seeing the little boy's eye light up made it all worthwhile. And when the little boy gave him a warm hug, hazel eyes bright with happiness and love, Dean smiled.
Anything for Sammy.