Chapter Text
Before the Forward
He hadn't wanted a brother. He'd wanted a puppy. A puppy with brown fur and a green collar. But, instead, Dean Winchester got a brother.
All brother did was cry and poo-poo and drink milk that Mommy called 'formla' and that tasted nasty: he'd tried it. Oh and play with his toes. He wasn't any fun. Dean refused to have anything to do with baby brother after once when he'd just been holding him, he spitted up all over Dean's favorite shirt.
Stupid brother anyway. Spitting up and poo-pooing and crying. Puppies didn't cry and they pooped outside and ate without spitting up. And they could play.
But then, one night – very late – he knew it was more than nine because he could read the numbers on his clock-, Dean heard baby brother crying in his stupid crib in his stupid room. But it wasn't the "I'm hungry" cry. And it wasn't the "I'm poopy" cry. Dean knew those.
The cry was- Dean cocked his head to one side and listened. And was on his feet and across the room to the door before he stopped to think.
On tip toes, he went off down the carpeted hall toward brother's – toward Sammy's – room. Outside the door, he stopped and listened again. Then, using both hands, he turned the door knob and slipped inside the nursery. Quietly, he crossed the floor to the crib where Sammy lay crying sadly.
Sadly.
"Sammy baby brother," Dean called softly. "Are you okay?"
Baby brother stopped crying and looked toward the sound of Dean's voice. One tear rolled down his chubby baby cheek and he hiccupped around his next breath. But he didn't start to cry again.
Carefully, because Mommy had said that babies got hurt real easily, Dean reached through the slats in the crib and touched one finger tip to Sammy's right hand. "Are you scared?" Dean looked around the nursery and thought out loud, "It's pretty big in here. Is that why you were cryin'?"
Baby shivered, and Dean went into motion again. "Be quiet, Baby Sammy. I'll be right" and up the side of the crib he scrambled." there. Someday I'll teach you how to get in and out of the baby bed," he promised. "You shouldn't kick off your banket cos you'll get cold even with that 'jama on." Baby Sammy watched him solemnly, while Dean pulled both crib blankets up to cover Sam and him.
When he'd arranged the blankets so they cocooned both of them, Dean scooted down onto his side and wrapped one arm over his brother's body to keep him still. "Now – you just lie there an' I'll keep you warm. Ssshhh…go to sleep, good Sammybrother."
Sammy wriggled a little and Dean pulled him closer. He remembered what Daddy said sometimes when Dean was scared or felt sick and not like a big boy at all. "I gotcha."
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"Hmm? What?"
"Wake up."
"I am awake. Now."
"Listen."
"To what? I don't hear anything but –"
"NOW do you hear it?"
"Indeed."