"Name one word that describes your life."
"Sammy."
It was said without a second thought and Dean wasn't sure who was more surprised; him or his teacher. It was a simple question asked to everyone in the room and they had a couple of minutes to think about it. For a moment, Dean wasn't sure if he could even describe his life in one word. What would he go with- creepy, horrible, tiring, different, blank- that wouldn't make him sound like a depressed and sad child?
When Ms. Witmore came to him, smiling gently at the child, she wasn't sure what to expect from him. The boy was only ten and was quiet and withdrawn, barely interacting with the students without prompting. He didn't talk about his home life, usually skirted around the subject when asked by other students, and it concerned her a bit. She had to admit, she was a bit scared to find out what he'd say. What if what he chose revealed he was being abused at his home, or worse?
"Alright, Joseph," Ms. Witmore smiled, placing her hands gently on her hips. "What is one word you can use to describe your life?"
The small nine year-old smiled goofily, nudging his friends playfully, and belted out, "Fun!"
The teacher felt herself smiling wider at the kids enthusiasm about his life, "And what makes it fun for you, Joseph?"
"Well, I like hangin' out with my friends, playin' with my dog, and playin' ball with my dad. I like helping my mom out too."
Ms. Witmore nodded, accepting his answer with soft eyes and a smile, and continued on. She took in a sharp breath when she realized who was next, "Dean." Her smiled turned gentle when she looked into the child's hazel-green eyes, "Name one word that describes your life."
Dean straightened slightly, putting his palms on his desk, and opened his mouth to answer, "Sammy."
There was a beat of silence before Ms. Witmore asked, "Who's Sammy?" She was thinking maybe it was a pet or something, judging by the way Dean immediately brightened at the name, looking the happiest he'd ever been just by uttering it.
"My little brother," Dean answered with a toothy grin, the first since he arrived at the school two weeks ago. "Sam Winchester."
She tilted her head in surprise. Not many children would say their life was their brother and it made Ms. Witmore curious about this Sam Winchester, "What is he like?"
"He's a geek-boy," Dean started, smiling fondly, and it was obvious that he was in his own little world already. "He likes reading, and learnin' new thing, and he always follows me around," He shrugged in a 'what can you do?' manner and continued. "But he's really talented and smart- gets all A's- and I couldn't be more proud of the kid. When I held him once when I was four," Dean nearly trailed off before shaking his head and looking at Ms. Witmore with determined eyes, "I knew I had to protect him with my life."
"He sounds like a wonderful brother," Ms. Witmore said and ruffled Dean's hair. "And it sounds like you're a wonderful big brother."
18 YEARS LATER
Sam pushed opened the door to the motel room, carefully shouldering his brother, who could barely keep himself up, "You know, this is why you don't turn your back on werewolves."
"They r'n too f'st..." Dean slurred, falling face-first on one of the beds, "Jus' hurry up 'n' stitch. Pack's in my bag."
"Yeah, I got it," Sam walked over to Dean's duffle, zipping it open and rifling through. He paused when a paper caught his attention. It was folded neatly at the bottom but was obviously old, yellowing at the edges. He picked it up and unfolded it slowly, wondering what was inside. He gave a short gasp at what was written in a child's scrawl.
Name one word that describes your life
Sammy.
"H-Hey, Dean?" Sam looked up, unsure whether to smile or frown at the paper.
"Mm?" The older Winchester's voice was muffled by his pillow but he shifted slightly to show he was listening.
"Uh," He held the paper tighter before folding it again with a goofy smile. "Nevermind. Let's say we stitch you up now?"
"'Bout time."