When Dean was seven years old, his father started taking him on small hunts, things like poltergeists or faerie folk. It wasn't till he was nine that he saw his first demon, a werewolf.

"Daddy, what if it bites's him?" Sammy asked nervously. "Will 'oo kill him if he turns into a wolf? I don' want 'oo to kill him. I can take care of him, we don' have to kill him." His lower lip wobbled dangerously, and John sighed and knelt to his level to hug him. "Don't worry, Sam. I won't let him get hurt, I promise. And if, IF he does, I'd never kill him. I'd take care of him."

Sam looked up at Dean, wanting his big brother to reassure him, tell him he'd be fine, and Dean smiled reassuringly. "Its okay, Sam-I-Am. I'll be okay, I promise. And if you're real brave and don't worry about us, I'll get you a cool surprise."

The next minute, Dean had a five year old squeezing his mid-section, squealing, "Surprise! YAY!" Dean laughed and knelt to hug him tightly, before ruffling his hair. "Now be a big boy and don't cry, okay?" he said, seeing Sam's lower lip wobble again.

"And if you must cry, do it where no one can see you, see that your family is your weakness," John whispered, hugging him gruffly. Dean turned and watched the chubby arm wave goodbye, and finally turned around when it disappeared.

"You're a good brother, Dean, and I'm proud of you," John said softly.

"Thank you sir," Dean said, his eyes welling up.

"Wouldn't hurt you to call me Dad once in a while, Deano."

"Yes daddy. And it's Dean."

"Yeah, whatever, Deano."

"Dad!"

"Okay, fine, Dean. Too old for being called by a nickname by your old man?"

"You're not old, Daddy." He hesitated, and charged in. "and I don't care what Father Jim says. You're a good dad, and if you hadn't trained us, the thing that got Mom…It could have come back."

John was surprised his boy had heard that particular conversation, and touched. "You're a good kid, Deano," and this time, he wasn't corrected.

The werewolf wasn't as bad as the ones John had encountered before, and watching Dean riddle it with bullets after he'd taken a bad hit, he felt an odd mixture of pride and guilt. Oh, Mary, what have I done to our boy?

"Hey, Deano, its okay, you can stop shooting now," he said gently, wincing at the pain in his ribs. Blasted wall. Blasted wolf. He pried the empty gun from Dean's stiff hands, and scooped him up in his arms. "Come on, boy, let's get outta here before the cops show."

Back at the motel, after he'd done a cursory examination of Dean, finding only a couple of scratches, he gave Dean his bath, and after showering, bandaged the scratch he'd gotten from the wolf's claws. He got into bed, Dean lying behind him. He was almost asleep when a tiny arm encircled his waist, squeezing as tight as it could, and John reached back, and lifted Dean and laid him before himself, hugging him tight against his body. "Its okay baby," he whispered, rubbing the shaking back soothingly. "It's okay. You were real good and brave, and I'm proud of you." A small sob was his only answer, and he fought back his own tears. "Sshh, I know you're scared. You know what? When I killed my first werewolf, I cried too."

A wet face emerged from his chest, and Dean sniffled and said, 'Really?"

"Yeah. I was so scared of what I'd seen, and so worried because I'd gotten hurt bad, and I was scared you boys would be alone. But then I realized that that werewolf had killed a man, and he'd had a little boy, just like you and Sam, and I knew I'd done good." John explained, and Dean snuggled into his chest.

"Daddy?" came a while later.

"Yeah Dean?"

"I'm gonna help you kill as many of them as we can till we get to the one that killed Mommy."

John felt his eyes well up, and said, "Dean, you don't have to. You're going to study and go off to college and make your old man proud. This is my quest, not yours."

Dean turned to face him, his lip wobbling. "Sammy doesn't remember her, Daddy, but I do. And that thing will pay for taking Mommy away from us. And I'm going to make it pay," he said seriously.

This time, John let the tears fall freely, and when Dean hugged him and kissed his tears like he'd done to Dean and Sam so many times, saying, "It's okay Daddy," they only fell faster.

The first time John Winchester realized how much he'd fucked up his son was after his boy's first hunt.

"Dad, I promised Sam a surprise."

The tone is wheedling, and John says, "Get him those Gummi Worms he likes."

"Da-ad! That's not much of a surprise!" Dean wheedles, and John's jaw ticks.

"Dean, we have to get back to him. It's been a week since we left." He explains patiently.

"There's a mall a block away." The words are said carefully, he knows that money is tight, but he loves Sammy so.

"No, Dean. Eat your food, then we're leaving."

A while later, Dean excuses himself to go to the bathroom, and after waiting for fifteen minutes, John begins to worry, and creeps into the bathroom. The stalls are empty, there's no one there, and he panics and runs out, grabbing the first waitress he sees. "Have you seen a little boy, about ten, this high, he was going to the bathroom?"

"No sir, I haven't," she says, and John fights the urge to cry. He runs out to see if he's in the Impala, but he's not there, and John tries to think. Where could Dean be? What if…the thing that got Mary…God, no, not Dean, not his little boy.

A light goes off in his head, and he curses and pulls his car out of the parking lot, driving to the mall, and runs into the kids section. Sam needed new clothes, that could be where Dean was, but he wasn't. He ran in the toys section, searching desperately for his son, and saw him at the counter. He hid behind an aisle, hunter's instincts telling him to wait.

"That'll be 20.99 honey," the cashier says, a pleasant looking brunette, in her early twenties. Dean digs in his pockets, and comes up with a ten dollar bill and three one dollar bills. "Is there a smaller version of this that costs less?" he asks.

"No, I'm sorry, sweetie, this is the only size. Why don't you get some more money from your father, I'll keep it here for you," she offers, and Dean shuffles. "Dad won't let me buy something so expensive," he says.

"Your mom then?" and Dean freezes. "Mom's dead," he says, and the girls face softens as she looks at Dean properly, taking in the thrift store clothes, and says, "Wait a minute, this is odd. I forgot, there's a special offer. Where did you get this?' Dean points to the aisle and she smiles.

"Well, you're a lucky little boy. We have a special sale today, all toys from there cost ten dollars, and if you buy a stuffed toy, you get to buy eight more toys!"

Dean's young and innocent enough to believe her,, and exclaims, "Really? COOL!" before racing off to grab his eight toys, four for himself, four for Sammy, and the girl smiles at him.

"Why don't you get another? I hate odd numbers. What about that bubble blower, that's only for one dollar." Dean examines it, then grabs it, and the girl smiles at Dean.

"Have fun with your toys kiddo." Dean turns, and freezes when he sees John. "Dean Winchester, car, NOW!" Dean slinks off, and he says to the girl, "How much did that stuff really cost?"

She grins at him. "Sir, I'm just doing this job for fun. It'll come outta my paycheck but I don't need the money, so it doesn't matter."

"Please, I can't-" he starts.

"Just take them sir. Please," she says, and John nods. He gets back to the car, and drives back to the motel. Once inside their room, he shakes Dean, hard, and slaps him.

"Don't you ever do that to me again, you hear me!" he shouts, and Dean trembles from fear and shock, and John sobs and pulls him close. "Thought you were dead. Thought I'd lost you."

"You never will, Dad," he says, short, stubby arms hugging him.

The first time Dean realized how much his father loved him was the only time his father raised his hand to him.

"You're back!" Sam hurls himself on Dean, giving him slobbery, little boy kisses, then attacks Dad, hugging his leg before John lifts him up to hug him, and Sam wriggles down and turns to look at Dean expectantly. "Surprise?" he asks, and Dean chuckles, and retrieves a black wolf from under his coat. "Just like the one we got," he says, and Sam's eyes are as wide as saucers. "And," Dean adds, "There's more surprises in the car. Five toys for you, five for me" Sam squeals and hugs him, and Pastor Jim smiles at John as Dean is bowled over by the force of Sam's hug.

"I wuv you the mostest Dean!" His little boy squeals, and John turns away to hide his tears.

"And I wuv Daddy the mostest too!" Sam says, and John kneels and pulls him roughly into a hug. "I love you the mostest too Sammy."

"Daddy, you didn' let the wolf bite Dean, did 'oo?"

"No, baby, I told you I'd keep him safe," John says and feels a sinking feeling in his gut when he remembers Dean's reaction, his fingers clenched around the gun, shooting over and over again. Sam's scrambling in the car, getting his toys. "Arthur bubble blower!" he says happily.

"No Sammy that's mine, those are your toys," Dean says gently, and Sam's lip quivers. Dean casts a longing glance at the blower, and says, "You can have it if you like it Sammy."

Sam squeals and hugs him in glee, and Dean smiles and ruffles his hair.

The first thing Dean sacrificed for his brother, the first of many, was a toy.

Sam saw his first real ghost when he was nine, and confronted a lower level demon when he was ten. Dean went flying back from a psychic blast, and his father was pinned against the wall, doing his best not to scream from whatever torture was being inflicted upon him in his mind. Sam had been tied up, but not knocked out, because really, how much of a threat can a ten year old be? Not much, but if he happens to have memorized his Latin…

He began chanting in a low voice, a mere whisper, and by the time the demon felt the effects of the incantation, Sam was furiously muttering the ending lines of it. The demon locked eyes with him, and Sam saw…

A burning field, littered with broken bodies, so much blood everywhere. Dean, his eyes wide open, blood pouring out of his mouth, mouthing Sam's name even as his eyes glazed over. He was draped upon Dad's lifeless body, hugging him, like they used to when they were little enough to fit in Dad's bed. And a monster, a demon before him even as Sam defiantly stood on one leg, the other a bleeding stump, and the demon's yellow eyes glowed…

"NOOOO!!" he screamed, and forcefully pushed the images out of his mind, finishing the incantation, and sobbed when the demon was vanquished.

"SAM!" Dad, cradling him in his arms, and something warm fell on his face, and where's Dad bleeding from, because he can't be crying, Dad never cries, and when he does, its in private, where other people can't see him and know his boys are his weakness, and Dean's frantically calling his name, "Come on, Spammy, say something!" and then all went black.

Later, Dean would tell him that he'd been out for eight hours, the eight longest hours of his life. And the most amazing thing happened; Dad, who'd lost his faith after mom died, had left Dean in charge and driven off to the local church for help, setting foot in a church the first time after Mom died. Sam longed to go to church with his father, but though John let him, he refused to go there himself.

"Keep your faith as long as you can, son, I lost mine the day God turned his back on my innocent little boys, on my wife," he'd said grimly one night when he'd come to check up on a sleeping Sam, and when he turned, Dean was looking at him with tears in his eyes, and John had given him a gruff hug before leaving. But when he hadn't returned that night, Dean panicked and called Pastor Jim, who called John, who told him to tell Dean to bring his brother to the church, and he'd found his father kneeling before the altar, and they'd sat there, him curled up next to John with his father's arm round him, Sammy lying across both their laps, and John whispered, "Don't punish my boys for my sins. I wandered from your path, and even now, I turn to you as a last resort, but my little boy has always had faith in you, and you cannot take him away from me. Take me if you will, but leave my boys out of this."

Then Sam's eyes had fluttered, and he'd opened them, and whispered, "Daddy?" in a puzzled tone, wondering how his father came to be in a church.

"I'm here Sammy, I'm here," John had whispered, and Sam had blinked and said, "Daddy I'm hungry." John half laughed and half sobbed, holding him close, and carried him out to the car. Dean stayed behind, and quickly knelt before the altar.

"I've always believed in you, even if I didn't have much faith in you, I didn't think you really helped your creations, but what just happened, that was all you, and I thank you for that," he'd quickly whispered, and got up and walked out slowly.

The first time Dean truly believed that God did help His creations was when He gave him his baby brother back.

Sam however was far from fine, and at the motel that night, when John was half asleep, Sam crept in his bed, curling up with an arm round John's broad waist, and again, he'd stroked his son's back and calmed him as he shuddered, crying softly. "Daddy, can I tell you what it showed me?"

"It wasn't true, Sam, it was an illusion," John said soothingly.

"Dad. Please."

And John had nodded, and Sam had whispered his vision to him, and John could see Dean sitting up and listening. Dean had gotten up and curled up behind Sam halfway through the story, and when Sam ended, he'd hugged Sam from behind.

"Won't ever leave you all alone Sam-I-Am. We're family. We're all we've got, the three of us, and I'll always be there to protect you."

"I'll always be there for you Sam, for you and your brother, I'll never let anything hurt you. I'd die before that happens."

The first time John Winchester realized how special Sam was, was after his first hunt.

Won't ever leave you Sam-I-Am…

Die before that happens…

Words spoken long ago in the silence of a motel room, safe and warm, Dad and Dean, promises made, long forgotten, forgotten when he strode out that door, Dad told him not to come back, and cried every night because he was really gone, and Dad kept his promise till the end, died for his son, and Dean's gone, left an empty shell in his place, and oh, for the days when it was so easy to hold his brother, to cry on his shoulder, "Its okay Sam-I-Am, I've got ya, don't cry Spammy,"and the days when it was easy to fall asleep in his brother's arms, waiting for Dad to come home, and he's still waiting, they both are, only not together, from different sides of the room, like two brothers on a hotel bed.

"Dean, when will we get back to normal?'

Dean looked up from his coffee, trademark smirk in place. "When were we ever normal, Sammy?"

"It used to be Spammy." Half whispered, so soft he barely heard it, thought he'd imagined it, but Sam was looking down biting his lip the way he would when he was a kid and was trying hard not to cry.

"I still have that wolf you got me," he said suddenly. "When you went on your first hunt."

Dean's face closed immediately, an indifferent mask sliding into place, remembering. "Thought you threw it away."

"Naw. Went with me all the way to Palo Alto. Slept with it under my pillow. Still do. Never let you see it though, I'll never hear the end f it."

"Why tell me now then?"

Sammy had looked at him with those puppy dog eyes, and said quietly, "Thought remembering would remind you that we were brothers once."

"Till you left. Dad and I kept our promises. But you, you left us." The words were said without any anger behind them, just a blunt honesty.

"It's been a year since I came back. What will it take for you to love me again?"

Dean stood abruptly. "I gotta go to the bathroom."

Walking away, like he walked away five years ago, and that was it, that was when his brother's love changed into hatred, because he understands now, he should have stayed, should have picked up the phone when it rang, should have called Dad, just said hi, I'm fine dad, I scored 174 on my , aren't you proud Dad, gonna get another free ride, and he's gone now, I'm sorry Daddy, sorry I fought before you left, didn't mean it, didn't want you to die, didn't mean it when I said go to hell, loved you even as I walked away, Daddy, come back, please, Dean needs you, I need you!

Standing in the bathroom, trying to breathe. What will it take for you to love me again? The tears fall as the words echo in his head.

The first time Dean cries after his father died was because of his brother.

Sliding to the floor, no longer able to hold on to the sink, huddled up in a ball, taking deep, gasping breath, not noticing when the door opened, barely hearing the "Hey buddy, you okay?", not registering Sam's voice when he said, "Dean, what's taking so-DEAN!", his name yelled in fear, can't lose you too and there are big, strong arms wrapped around him, keeping him whole, and he sobs, "Dad is dead! He died for me!" and Sammy is pulling him close, in his lap till Dean finally manages to stop, sniffling softly, and Sam lifts, lifts him up in his arms and carries him out the backdoor and into the Impala, snagging the keys from Dean's pocket, and deposits him in the seat, going around the driver's side and getting in, and quickly gets them back to their motel. He drags Dean inside, literally, and pulls him on the bed, curling up beside him.

"Dad is dead, Dean," he said softly. "And he left me with a half dead Dean. I need you to start living again. For me. Please Dean I'm here for you." He's stroking Dean's hair now, and Dean snuffles again in his shirt, wetting Sam's shoulder as he cries silently.

The first time Sam got to take care of his big brother was when he broke down after their father died.

Morning brings a strange sight. Dean is curled up into Sam, hands fisting his shirt, and Sammy's arms are wrapped around him. He's awake, but feigns sleep, relishing the feeing of being so close, and Dean mumbles and wakes.

"Sam, let go," he grumbles, voice hoarse from crying. Sam doesn't budge, and Dean makes an impatient noise.

"Know you're awake."

"Want huggies." That's all Sam supplies him with.

"Damn it Sam we're not kids anymore, that we're huggling! What are you, a girl?"" he spits out angrily. Sam's arms snap back, and when Dean gets up and looks at him, Sam is looking at him with a hurt, wounded expression, tears welling up in his eyes. "Things are going back to before?" he whispers, almost a question, and Dean is back on the bed again, snuggling into his arms.

"Don't cry Spammy. Please don't cry." Wriggling back into his arms, into the same position, only this time, he's facing Sam, wiping away the tears, burrowing into his shoulder. "Sam, come on man. You know I don't do this stuff."

"I need you to do it for me Dean. I need to be brothers again," Sam pleads.

"We are brothers Sam. Always were, always will be, and nothing will come between that. Not a freaky ass demon, not Stanford, nothing Sam. Nothing," Dean says.

"Not like that, Dean. Before. The way we used to be," Sam says, and really, Dean should have seen this coming, but he's too much of an idiot. Truth be told, he's surprised it took Sam a year, but then again, he was grieving over Jess.

"No, Sammy. We can't ever do that, not again," he says, sitting up.

"Remember the shadow demons we hunted? When Dad came back? You said you wanted things to go back to the way they were. I know that was what you meant, Dean and I told you I didn't want them to, but I did," Sam says desperately. "Please Dean, please. I need this."

"This was how it had started. Sam climbing in his bed, "Please Dean, I can't come, please help me" and Dean had started to jerk him off till Sam straddled him, and they were rutting against each other, hot come flooding on their bellies, and Sam had kissed him so sweetly, whispered "Love you Dean" and fallen asleep, leaving Dean with the sick feeling of shame, disgust, and love. And he'd kept on doing it, kissed his brother's mouth, touched him in places a brother should never touch, held him close as they jerked each other off, soothed him with gentle touches on his 16th birthday, when he'd finally weakened and made love to his brother.

"Please, Dean. Please, just…Need you Dean," Sam pleads, hand sliding up Dean's thigh, and Dean closes his eyes and lets him. Sam pushes him down on the bed and slowly undressing him, kissing the skin revealed every now and then, until finally, Dean is naked, and he sits up to stare at him.

"So beautiful Dean. I love you so much," his brother whispers, and Dean groans as that hot mouth envelopes his already hard cock, curling his hands in Sam's hair.

"God, Sammy, missed you so much," he whispers, then panics, trying to push Sam away. "No! Wrong!"

"Feels so right Dean," Sam whispers, holding his hips down as Sam struggles.

"Fuck you Sam! This is wrong!" Dean yells, bucking angrily, but Sam starts blowing him again, and gradually, his struggles cease, then stop, but Dean is shaking, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Fuck you Sam. This is rape. I don't want this, Sam, don't want you like this. Fuck you're my brother Sammy, its wrong. Don't do this, Sammy, please!"

Sam stops before Dean comes, but Dean isn't fooled into thinking that he's listening to his pleas. Sam smiles at him, then pulls off his tee shirt, wriggling out of his baggy drawstring pants. He sucks two fingers in his mouth, and shoves the inside, grunting in discomfort from the pain. Dean tries to take advantage of this, and tries to get up but Sam holds him down with one big paw, and sinks down on Dean till he's fully seated, then stills.

"You're wrong Dean. This isn't rape. Say the word, and this will stop. You can go find some pretty girl to fuck, and I'll never do this again," he says, face open and vulnerable. "I love you, Dean, more than I should, and I don't care what the world says. You and me, we're freaks, remember? You said you were there for me, all the way, so why not be with me now?"

Dean closes his eyes, still sobbing, tears leaking out, and Sam begins to get off Dean. Then, "Kiss me, little brother," and Dean grabs his hips, stilling him and thrusting up as soon as Sammy's lips touches his.

Hot tongues in a languid dance, different fro their battles of dominance from when they were young, because its all about love now, and Dean sighs in Sam's mouth, still crying as they come, and Sam flops down beside him, holding him close with one arm as Dean cries in his shoulder.

After a while, when Dean's sobs have grown softer, quieter, Sam suddenly sings softly, "If you want to talk about it anymore, lie here on the floor, and cry on my shoulder. I'm a friend." Dean gives a half sob, half laugh.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Cocksucker."

"Lover mine."

"Always."

A couple of minutes later, Sam chuckles and sings, "Always, always, always, always, I just can't live without you!"

"Christ Sam, kinda spoiling my afterglow here!" Dean says crabbily, and Sam laughs and pulls them closer.

"Love you Dean."

"Love you Sam."

"It's Sammy."

Dean hears the unspoken only for you at the end of that sentence, and smiles.

The first time the Winchester Brothers, the Mighty Hunters find peace, is after their father dies, in each other's arms.