There was any number of things that Dean Winchester could protect his little brother from. From vampires to Casper the not so friendly ghost to school bullies, Dean would bend over backwards to protect Sam and make sure he was safe. If there was a job description for his role as the big brother, Dean felt sure that 'protect Sammy' would be in the first line. He didn't need Dad to remind him to do his job, though he knew it gave Dad peace of mind, especially if he had to leave them alone; protecting Sammy was part of Dean's everyday routine, as natural as brushing his teeth or eating breakfast.

'Three, four days tops,' Dad assured them, loading his shot gun as he spoke.

Dean shared a familiar, knowing look with Sam. From their wealth of experience, 'three, four days tops' never meant just four days, and if Bobby had asked their Dad for help on a hunt, it was likely to be difficult and take more time.

'We'll be fine,' Dean rolled his eyes dramatically for Sam's benefit, the latter instantly trying to stifle a laugh. He'd taken care of Sam plenty of times before and besides, Dean was sixteen; he wasn't exactly a kid anymore.

Dad regarded him sternly. 'You go to school, then come home from school, and you keep a low profile. No drawing attention to yourselves, you understand?'

'Yes, sir,' they chorused in unison, Sam again smiling at Dean's overzealous expression.

Dad narrowed his eyes. 'This isn't a joke, Dean,' he said, flatly. 'I'm trusting you to watch Sam.'

Dean instantly sobered up. 'I know you are, Dad,' he said quickly. 'I'll watch out for Sammy, you know I will. I'll make sure he gets up for school and eats his breakfast. I'll even tuck him in and read him a bedtime story if he wants,' he added, grinning wickedly at Sam.

'Alright, alright,' Dad said, holding his hands up. 'I get the picture.'

They watched as Dad packed his duffle, then felt in the pocket of his jeans. Pulling out a few crumpled bills and a handful of spare change, he instructed that it was only to be used for food, and nothing else. This warning was issued to his eldest son in particular, though Dean couldn't think why. Dad picked up the keys to the old truck Bobby had lent him a few weeks back and hoisted his duffle onto his shoulder, taking a last look back at the two of them.

'Be good, alright? That's an order, boys. And look after your brother, Dean.'

'I know, Dad. You can trust me,' Dean said, his voice uncharacteristically serious.

Dad actually smiled a little. 'I know I can, son.'

They weren't exactly a hugging, public displays of affection; a quick but firm grasp of Dean's shoulder and a ruffle of Sam's hair sufficed on this occasion. Sam just about refrained from pulling back, but Dean noticed, and grinned broadly.

'Hey, Dad, make sure you don't mess up Sammy's hair!'

Raising an eyebrow, Dad responded by giving Sam's hair an extra vigorous ruffle in retaliation. 'We're getting you a haircut, boy, the second I get back.'

Dad's truck had only just pulled out of the motel parking lot when Dean turned to Sam, his grin wide and his eyes glinting. 'So, Sammy, what will we do tonight?'

Sam frowned, his eyes automatically flicking to the kitchen table, where his school books and papers were laid out. 'It's a school night,' he said slowly. 'I've got homework, and I bet you do too.'

Dean shrugged. 'You completely underestimate me, little brother. I've already finished my homework.'

Sam raised his eyebrows so high they were in danger of disappearing into his hairline. 'You've actually done your homework? Did someone pay you to do it?'

Dean laughed. 'What can I say, Sammy? I'm a changed man.'

'It's Sam and since when did you do homework?'

Dean shrugged again, sitting down heavily on his bed. 'I don't know, Sammy,' he said, apparently ignoring Sam's rejection of the hated nickname. 'It's just…I like it here, man, you know?'

Sam frowned, but kept quiet, waiting for Dean to go on. He'd never known his brother to talk like this before.

'I don't know, Sammy,' Dean repeated, his voice trailing off as he raked a hand through his hair. 'Well, as far as towns go, this place isn't the worst, and compared to some of the dives we've stayed in, this place is actually pretty decent.' He gestured round the, for once, spotlessly clean room, not a tacky ornament and questionable stain in sight.

'And the homework?' Sam prompted, correctly assuming that Dean had lost his train of thought.

'Well…the school's not that bad,' Dean mumbled under his breath, resolutely not looking Sam in the eye.

Sam was sure he had misheard his brother. 'Sorry, what? Did you just say that you liked school?' he asked gleefully.

Dean immediately blushed a deep red. 'I said it wasn't that bad,' he hastily corrected.

Sam laughed. 'Dude, coming from you, that's practically like saying you love the place.'

Dean threw his pillow at Sam in an attempt to shut up his loud laughter. 'You ever repeat that outside this room and I'll kill you.'

After a moment or two, Sam's muffled laughter finally subsided and he removed the pillow, his expression suddenly more serious. 'I really like it here too,' he said quietly.

Dean smiled, almost nervously, then spoke in a would-be offhand voice. 'You know, there's a big football game over at the high school tonight.'

'The first game of the season!' Sam cut in excitedly. 'I heard some guys talking about it today.'

'We could go watch it if you want.' Dean shrugged, as though it didn't really matter but Sam could detect an unfamiliar note of excitement in his brother's voice.

'Can we go?' he asked at once, all thoughts of homework immediately gone from his mind. 'I'll get my coat.'

Dean smiled at his brother's obvious enthusiasm. Honestly, it was a relief to see Sammy acting like a proper kid for a change. He checked his watch. 'Look, the game doesn't start for an hour. What do you say you do a half hour of homework and then we'll go?'

Sam cast an almost guilty look back at his abandoned books. 'Oh yeah,' he said sheepishly.

Dean watched in satisfaction as Sam settled himself down at the table, pencil in hand, head immediately bent over an open book. Unable to contain an almost smug smile, he leant back on the bed, arms behind his head and one leg crossed over the other. Homework and a football game? He really was an expert at this 'watching out for Sammy' business.

Sam privately agreed. Chewing the end of his pencil, he couldn't exactly say that he loved algebra homework, but he loved this. It wasn't very often they got to pretend they were normal kids, and he made the most of the opportunity whenever it presented itself. It was a relief to forget about the salt lines at every window and door, and the arsenal in the Impala's trunk, and the obviously dangerous hunt that Dad had gone on. He often thought he liked things a lot better when Dad was gone, and it was just the two of them. Not that he'd ever admit it, he could only imagine Dad's reaction if he did, but he much preferred when it was just Dean looking after him. He felt safer, more protected somehow, under Dean's watchful eye than Dad's. His loved his Dad, of course he did, you had to love your family, didn't you? Even still, he couldn't help but wish that Dad could be like this, could be like a normal dad, at least some of the time. Sam couldn't remember the last time Dad had supervised him doing his homework, and he knew for certain that dad had never taken him to a football game.

As he scribbled down the answer to a particularly difficult problem, he decided, with a fierce rush of pride, that it didn't matter. He had Dean to look after him and protect him, and that was all that mattered. He suddenly found himself wishing that dad would be gone on this hunt for weeks and weeks, and he could stay here, safe and protected, with Dean.

True to Dean's word, exactly thirty minutes later, Sam had shut his textbook and they'd slid into the front seat of the Impala, both doors shutting in unison, which made Dean smile. He loved it when that happened.

'Hey, baby,' he murmured, patting the dashboard lovingly as the engine burst into life with its usual, distinctive sound. 'Miss me?'

'Should I give you two some time alone?' Sam smirked.

'You just don't get it,' Dean replied as they backed out of the motel parking lot.

As they passed through the little town, the sights of which Sam was still getting used to, a sudden thought occurred to him and he couldn't help but voice it. 'Dad did tell us just to go straight to school, and then back again, didn't he?'

'I knew you'd worry about that,' Dean grinned.

'It's not like you not to listen to Dad,' Sam pointed out.

'I'm not. Technically,' Dean placed great emphasis on the word, 'technically, we are going to school, well my school at least. Aren't we?'

'True,' Sam mused, beginning to smile.

'And afterwards, we'll go back to the motel again, won't we?'

Sam grinned, but it instantly slipped once again. 'But this isn't keeping a low profile like Dad said, is it?'

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. 'Sammy, we're just going to a school football game. Chill, alright? It's the first game of the season, we're new students in need of some school spirit; it would probably look more suspicious if we didn't go.'

Sam couldn't think of an argument, but then again, he wasn't trying that hard. He didn't want to find fault or poke holes. He just wanted to enjoy a regular evening with his big brother, and that was exactly what he intended to do. For a while, neither of them spoke, and all was silent but for the low rumble of the engine. It was a comfortable sort of silence thought, not like the prickly kind that so often enveloped the evenings when Dad was around and in a bad mood.

'I've never been to a football game before,' Sam commented lightly, sometime later. 'At least, I don't think I have.'

'You haven't,' Dean said, and though his eyes were still firmly fixed on the road ahead, he smiled sadly. 'Neither have I.'

'Never?'

'Never,' Dean shrugged. 'I've never seen the point of it. Never stayed anywhere to really get involved, have we?'

'I guess not. Hey, does this mean you think we'll be staying here longer this time? Maybe even for good?' Sam's voice was suddenly painfully excited.

Dean glanced sideways at his brother, a familiar sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. How could he look at Sam, with his wide eyes and his face flushed with excitement, and tell him the truth? How he could he tell Sammy that, of course they'd never stay here for good, that the fact they liked the place meant absolutely nothing? Sam was still young enough and naïve enough to believe that the impossible could happen if you only worked and hoped hard enough. The harsh truth of reality was just another thing that Dean had to try and protect him from.

'Maybe,' he said at last, hoping his voice sounded off hand and casual.

Sam beamed, and Dean instantly felt guilt twisting at his insides. This was only going to make it more difficult when Dad insisted they leave this place and move on. But for now, though, Sam seemed happier and more contented than Dean had seen him for a long time, and that was the important thing.

'Great! You know, if we do stay here, Dean, you should try out for the football team!'

Dean actually had to pull the car over, he was laughing so hard. 'Me?' he spluttered. 'Try out for the football team?'

Sam felt a little stung by his brother's reaction. 'It was just a suggestion,' he muttered. 'I take it that's a no?'

Dean struggled to keep a straight face as he started the car up again. 'Oh, it's definitely a no,' he confirmed. 'Firstly, football practice would require me to stay behind after school. I can tolerate this school but that's taking it too far. Secondly, I do not, under any circumstances, wear shorts or those dumb uniforms. And finally, the only good thing about being on the football team would be the dating opportunities with the cheerleaders.' He paused for a moment, grinning wryly. 'And I've already got a date lined up with the head cheerleader next weekend, so what would be the point?' His eyes widening at the sound of Sam's laughter, Dean continued, 'Sammy, the only thing more ridiculous than me trying out for the football team, would be you trying out, if they could even find a uniform small enough to fit you.'

Sam frowned. 'I'm not that small,' he huffed.

'Dude, they could pick you up and use you as the ball.'

Sam sighed loudly. This whole 'Sammy is so small' routine was getting old. 'It's just because I haven't had a growth spurt,' he pointed out for what felt like the hundredth time.

'I know, dude, and when that happens, I'm sure you'll tower over us all. But until then, we'll just watch the game, ok?'

'I might end up being taller than you, you know,' Sam argued.

'Yeah, yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid.'

Sam might have huffed and folded his arms and sighed so vigorously that he ruffled his bangs, but he couldn't contain his smile and Dean knew he was enjoying himself really. The kid's smile was contagious and Dean soon found himself grinning too, proud in the knowledge that he had protected Sammy from an evening of silence and boredom and had instead treated him to a slice of normal life for a change.

There were so many things that Dean could protect Sam from; vampires and silence, werewolves and boredom, and he had never failed in his unwavering duty. A drunk driver speeding along on the wrong side of the road, however, was something else entirely. But Dean, sure as hell, wasn't going to go down without a fight.

The speeding car seemed to appear out of nowhere. One second they were comfortably cruising along, having a light hearted argument about what to eat for dinner after the game, and the next, a car was headed directly towards them. A split second was all the timing they had, and in that instant, time seemed to grind to a halt. By the time Sam had yelled out his brother's name, his voice high and panic stricken, Dean had decided that the best course of action, the only course of action, was to pull the Impala sharply to the right, away from the speeding car. The oncoming car was certainly showing no signs of slowing or stopping, so Dean gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. He wasn't sure if he still believed in God but he found the prayers that Mom used to say when he was a kid suddenly rolling around in his head. If ever he needed divine intervention it was right now.

'It's gonna be ok, Sammy!' he yelled, hoping his brother could hear him. Instinctively, he flung out his right arm in front of Sam, holding him back in one last ditch attempt to protect him. With his free hand he clutched the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckled went white, and sharply turned it, the car instantly veering off to the right, towards the trees that lined the edge of the road. In this case, hitting a tree was definitely the lesser of two evils. Hearing nothing but Sam's loud yells, Dean braced himself for the inevitable crash into the tree, his arm still locked in place in front of Sam, determined to try and keep him safe.

Maybe he hadn't acted quickly enough, or the Impala wasn't all she used to be, or the stupid drunk driver was just going too damn fast. All Dean knew was that the crash into the tree never came. The Impala was turned towards the trees when the impact came; the other slamming into their driver's side with remarkable force. Sam had long since closed his eyes, but he could still feel Dean's arm across his chest, even as the collision came and the sounds of breaking glass and squealing brakes and his brother's yells pierced the air. Sam wanted to call out to Dean, to make sure that he was, but then they were spinning, spinning wildly out of control like some terrible fairground ride gone horribly wrong. Sam felt ill, he suddenly felt the need to be violently sick, and he wanted Dean to make it stop, make it better like he always did. He felt himself being flung forwards, and he hit his arm hard, but still he was kept in place by Dean's restraining arm.

Dean didn't know which way was right and which was left. They'd been spun round over and over again, and he had the vague idea that they'd ended up on the other side of the road, right in the path of incoming traffic. He knew he had to get them out of the way, but his body suddenly felt like it had been set alight; every part of him ached and throbbed with an intensity he didn't think was possible. He was dimly aware of something warm and sticky trickling down his forehead – blood? When had he hit his head? Even as he tried to get a grip on the steering wheel once again, he had a sudden thought that it would be great, right at that exact moment, to hit the hay and go for a good long sleep.

As something came from behind and collided sharply with the back of the Impala, Dean's unbearably heavy eyelids slid shut, his head slumping, deaf to Sam's screams of shock and pain. Even as he was thrown forward, his arm stayed behind, the bones snapping as, even unconscious, he tried to protect Sammy. It was his job after all, his default setting, and he wasn't about to let a damn car crash stop that. Not if he could help it.