---This story is inspired by an actual ancient story. I thought it applied well to Dean. Dean is 10, Sam is 6. I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.
"Dean, guess what?" Sammy yelled excitedly as he ran to his brother who was waiting for him outside of his classroom so the two could walk home together.
Dean smiled. "What Sammy?"
"Our teacher told us a story today!"
"Oh yeah?" Dean grabbed his little brother's hand. The excitement in Sam's voice showed him how much the kid loved the new school they were at.
"Yeah. You wanna hear it?" The little boy asked excitedly.
"Sure Sam," Dean replied, not really looking forward to hearing another story.
Sam spoke quickly, not pausing once, "Ms. Peterson told us that once upon a time there was this little flower growing all alone in the desert. He was real small and one day he asked the sun 'When will I be grown up'?" the little boy began, not taking any breaths between words. "And the sun said 'Be patient, 'cuase every time I touch you, you grow a little' and the little flower was real happy and-"
"Take a breath Sam," Dean told his little brother as he grabbed his hand and they began to walk down the street.
The little boy took a deep breath in, before continuing the story with the same ferocity he had before. "And the little flower was happy cause he would getta bring beauty to his little corner of desert. Ms. Peterson told us that all the little flower ever wanted to do was bring happiness to his part of the desert."
"Sounds like a pretty girly flower," Dean told his brother. "I mean more girly than most flowers are."
Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm not done yet," Sam told his brother impatiently.
"Sorry." Dean rolled his eyes.
"Anyways," he continued. "One day a hunter came by and stepped on the flower. The flower was real sad cause he wasn't gonna get to make the desert happy anymore." Sam paused, taking in one last breath before finishing up the story. "But the sun saw how sad the flower was and he shined real bright for him and gave him life. And then the flower was happy again cause he would get to bring more happiness to the desert."
"That was a real good story Sammy," he lied. It was the fourth stupid story he'd heard this week.
"I know. It's my favorite one this weak. Only I can't remember the other ones real good cause I liked this one so much."
The two boys walked the rest of the way home, Sammy chatting happily about how great the first grade was.
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A few months later summer crept up and that meant no school for Sam and Dean. That also meant that they would be leaving town.
"Where are we going dad?" Dean asked John as they brought the last of their things from the motel room to the Impala.
"Up to Montana. There's word of a hunt there," John told Dean as he helped Sam into the backseat of the car. "Then we'll see where we go from there."
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"I can help dad!" Dean told John as his father exited the Impala. They were parked in the woods near a small cabin where John had tracked a spirit that was causing trouble for local hunters. It was supposed to be a simple hunt- salt and burn; in and out.
"No, Dean, you need to stay in the car and protect your brother," he told Dean in a hushed voice, trying not to wake the sleeping child. "If anything comes near you two, you know what to do," John said as he handed Dean a shotgun loaded with rock salt.
Hi son nodded. "Be careful dad," Dean said as his father slammed the door and headed down the path that led to the cabin.
Dean watched his father walk into the dark woods until he could no longer see him. He sighed. He was old enough to go on a hunt. It wasn't fair. But his dad had told him before that he was too young and that he needed to be patient. He was still growing; still learning how to hunt.
Dean was about to crawl up to the front of the car and sit in the passenger's seat, when he heard a crash. It was loud enough to make Sammy wake up. "What's going on Dean?"
Dean tried to stay calm. "Nothing, Sammy, it's alright. Go back to sleep."
But Dean heard another loud noise and a yell from an all-too familiar voice.
"Dad!" Sam yelled. "Dean, do something!"
Another yell echoed through the woods, this time showing a hint of what Dean recognized as pain.
Dean looked at his panicked brother and didn't know what to do. But another yell and any doubts drifted away. "Sammy, you stay in the car. If anything comes toward you, you run away from it. Alright?"
Tears were now falling from Sam's young face. "Dean, dad said to stay inside the car!"
"I know, but right now he needs help," he told his brother and he began to close the door.
"Just be careful," Sam yelled back.
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Dean was at the cabin within a minute. He quietly looked in through the window and was discomforted by what he saw. His dad was pinned up against the wall by the spirit in a gruff looking man's form. It held a knife up, which his dad was trying desperately to push away from him.
He didn't hesitate; he went through the door and aimed the gun. The spirit seemed to forget about his father as it turned in his direction.
As the thing came swiftly towards him, Sam's words from months before came to mind.
'All the little flower ever wanted to do was bring happiness to his part of the desert.'
All Dean wanted for them to be a family and they couldn't do that if a damn spirit killed his dad. All he wanted was for them to be a happy family.
He fired the gun, but it was the thing was too quick. He ducked down as the spirit came closer to him, gleaming knife still in hand, standing out against the thing's dull, grey skin, but it did no good. Before he knew it, he was on the ground, dizzy and confused. He felt wetness on his stomach and then pain as he tried to see what it was.
"Dean!" he heard his father cry out.
'One day a hunter came by and stepped on the flower.'
He heard the shot of his father's gun and the room was quiet. Then he felt the warmth of his father's hands. "DeMint Dean, I told you to stay in the car," his father yelled. His words weren't laced with anger, but fear and worry instead.
"Dad…I-"Dean tried to talk, but it was too hard. He struggled for breath and became panicked as it became harder and harder to take in enough oxygen. He was scared. He though about the situation. About Sammy, about his dad. What if he wasn't around anymore to help them?
'The flower was real sad cause he wasn't gonna get to make the desert happy anymore.'
"Just breathe son, alright?" His voice was softer this time, but still just as worried. "It'll be alright. I'm gonna take a look at it, alright?" John looked at the wound in Dean's lower side and tried to keep the lump in his throat at bay. "Shit," he said as he pulled back his now blood-slickened hands. The stab wound was deep. They had to get to a hospital.
John quickly took off his jacket and pressed it against the wound. Dean gasped and moaned in pain. He absent mindedly tried to push his father's hands away, but John took both of his small palms in his large one. "Alright Dean, I'm gonna get you to a hospital now. You're gonna be alright," he said as he began to slide his arms underneath Dean to pick him up.
Dean did not easily welcome the jostling and cried out at the pain that it caused him. But now he was in his father's warm arms. Nothing could hurt him anymore. He was protected; he was safe. "You're gonna be just fine," his father promised.
'But the sun saw how sad the flower was and he shined real bright for him and gave him life.'
And Dean knew that his father would fix everything, just like the sun.
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John sat by his son as he slept in the small hospital bed. He looked so small in the bed. He looked like the ten-year-old that he really was. No, John thought. Ten-year-olds don't get stabbed by angry spirits.
John looked over at the corner towards Sammy, who was curled up in a little ball on one of the chairs that stood there. He remembered Sam's pleas on the way to the hospital for Dean to wake up, for Dean to be okay. That brought his thoughts back to his oldest son, who now lay in a hospital bed. His son who just a few hours ago, was near death. Not much had changed since then, John decided. The doctors had insisted that Dean was doing much better and was out of the critical stage, but they would still need to monitor him closely.
John took Dean's hand and placed his other hand lightly on his son's hair. He was angry. Angry that Dean had even been near that cabin in the first place. Angry that he had gotten Dean into this mess. Angry that he had to be saved by his son. But all of his anger was pushed aside for now. All he wanted was for Dean to be okay. "Just get better, okay Dean? That's an order." Later he would thank Dean for coming after him; for saving his life. And then he would tell him to never risk his life for him again.
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A few hours later Dean slowly opened his eyes to see his father sitting there next to him. "Hey son, how're you feeling?"
Dean wasn't sure. He felt funny. He was confused and wasn't quite sure where he was or what was going on.
"You're at the hospital Dean. That spirit got you pretty good, but you're gonna be okay," John said, his voice calm. He noticed how Dean looked around the room and assured his son, "Sammy's fine. He's in the staff lounge being doted on by all the nurses." John offered a grin and watched his son close his eyes and fall back into a peaceful sleep.
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John was happy to see that Dean was awake, and even happier a day later when the doctor came in a few days later to tell him that Dean was healing up nicely. If everything went according to plan, they could leave the hospital in a few days. The last few days had been rough, but Dean was awake now, responsive, and chatting happily with him and his brother.
"Does it hurt, Dean?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "Not really Sammy."
The little boy had a quizzical look on his face. "Does it feel funny?"
Dean shrugged, "Kinda."
"Are you tired of hospital food?"
"Sam, come on now, let your brother rest," John winked at Dean as he lifted Sam up off of Dean's bed and held him in his lap. The kid hadn't given his brother a moment of peace since he was allowed to visit with Dean.
"The doctor says you can leave here first thing tomorrow morning," his dad told him.
"Good," Dean said. "I'm sick of this place." He looked at a tray next to his bed. "The food sucks."
"Hey Dean, you wanna hear a story?" Sam asked, his father's request for him to leave Dean alone forgotten.
Dean sighed and fought back the grin that was creeping up. "Not really, but I bet you're gonna tell me one anyway."
The little boy didn't take the hint and began his usual rambling. "It's about the sun and a mean old rain cloud and how…"
His brother continued his story, but Dean only listened half-heartedly. Instead, he looked at his father and brother, sitting there in the chair next to his bed, his dad with a fake look of interest as his son told the story. Dean couldn't help but think of how lucky he was; how happy he was that he was still here with them. And Sam's story echoed loudly in his mind.
'And then the flower was happy again 'cause he would get to bring more happiness to the desert.'
Like the flower, Dean would still be around to help his dad; to protect his brother. That was what mattered, and Dean was happy.
---I hope you enjoyed this little fic. Reviews are so, so, so helpful and really appreciated. Hint, hint. Thanks for reading!