AN: Just a little idea that I got in my head as I watched the series progress. I'm never happy unless I'm nitpicking at flaws I see in canon characters, lol. I just don't buy John and Dean (well, maybe John, but definitely not Dean) just cutting Sam off from their lives when he went away to school. Yeah, yeah, John went to spy on him whenever he had the time, but whatever. Just not plausible. With Dean, forget about it. This is the kid brother he practically raised and then went on to die and go to Hell for, but he didn't call him for years just because Sam wanted to go to school? Nope. Even canon states that John was the one that kicked Sam out, not Sam just slamming the door behind him on his way to California.

Also, the whole "Sam got a full ride to a top rated school like Stanford with a nomadic attendance spotty scholastic record"? Riiiiiiight. Could it happen? Sure, maybe, he is portrayed as being quite a smart cookie. But Dean probably has a better chance of winning the lottery (or getting John on the phone in Season One).

So here is my little AU fic about big brother Dean granting his kid brother's birthday wish and giving Sammy a little normal before he has to be an adult and face the big bad hunting world. Too bad we all already know where Sam's head was going.

Hope you enjoy!

*************

"Got your books?"

"Yeah."

"Pencils?"

"Yeah."

"Knife?"

"Dean..."

"Pro-Geek pocket protector?"

"Dean.."

Dean laughed. His seventeen year old little brother's face a mask of indignation at the teasing. He wasn't fooled. Sammy could protest and scowl all he wanted to, but today, this very unusual first day of school in the Winchester family, his kid brother was practically radiating joy. As hard as Sammy tried over the past few days to hide his excitement over starting a school year at the same place where he would graduate, a place where he could be normal, his older brother hadn't been fooled for a second.

Looking at Sammy in the bitch seat of the Impala, Dean smiled to himself. The kid had really grown over the past year and, not for the first time, Dean was thankful that he had been planning right from the get-go to give him the full school year experience. It was only the fact that he had been putting aside money all summer that had allowed him to take his little brother on a limited budget shopping trip for some new clothes and supplies.

Instead of Dean's old cast-off jeans, which would have already been second hand when Dad had purchased them, Sammy was wearing new ones that actually fit his lanky frame, along with a non-descript, but certainly not faded, long sleeved blue shirt, as well as off-brand sneakers that were, nevertheless, pristine white. He could have been just any other kid starting the first day of class.

"Yeah, okay, Sammy. But you do have your knife though, right?" Dean's voice went from teasing to serious, his little brother's ability to defend himself primary on his list of concerns. Not that Sammy really needed the knife to protect himself. Underneath his gangly, shy, cherubic-like exterior, Sam Winchester possessed a large repertoire of self defense skills that would make grown men wary.

In his seat, Sam shifted uncomfortably, the reminder that his family was not necessarily the Bradys rankling his nerves. They were lucky that the small Sioux Falls School District wasn't the type where kids had to go through a metal detector to get inside.

"Yeah, Dean, I've got it," he huffed, avoiding his brother's penetrating stare and gazing out the window towards the flood of teenagers milling around the small school's entrance. He didn't let his big brother see the wave of nervousness that passed over his face as he realized that there would be no second chances to make a first impression this year.

Over behind the steering wheel, Dean reached into his back pocket and grabbed his wallet. Pulling a twenty from the billfold, he shoved it towards Sam.

"Here's a couple of bucks for lunch. Try to eat something, okay?"

Sam rolled his eyes, but he took the offered bill and smiled. "Yeah, I will. Thanks."

He had been too jumpy this morning to eat any breakfast, although he knew that Dean had been watching his every move, ever the overprotective brother. Even though he knew that Dean sometimes still saw him as the chubby twelve year old that would eat frosting straight out of the can, puberty had brought on a growth spurt and an appetite to match. Puppy fat had been replaced with lean muscle from hours of training with his father and brother and Sam could apparently eat an entire horse now and never gain an ounce.

Still, Dean hovering over him this morning had nearly driven him mad until he had practically shouted that he wasn't going to die of malnutrition if he didn't consume one more bowl of Lucky Charms in his lifetime.

At a loss of what else to say, Dean absently rubbed his hands on the steering wheel. Sam was looking at the school as if he were a man on his way to his execution now. For some reason, Dean had been sure that his little brother would have leaped from the car like a gazelle as soon as they pulled into the parking lot. It had taken a lot of heated words and persuasion with their father to get to this point, and now the little stinker couldn't even seem to grab the door handle.

His forehead wrinkled in thought, Dean cleared his throat as he watched Sam stare out the window.

"You know, Sammy, you don't have to do this if you don't want to, " he started cautiously, trying hard to sort out his brother's mood. "Just say the word, kiddo. It's not too late to change your mind."

Finally startled out of his thoughts, Sam looked at his older brother as if he had just sprouted another head.

"What? No. No, I want to do this, Dean," he responded quickly, his voice taking on a slightly higher pitch in its insistence.

Holding his hands up in surrender, Dean sought to calm the kid down. "Alright, no need to get your panties in a twist. Just don't want you to feel like you don't have a choice here."

Sam took a deep breath, relaxing a little. His brother always had his back, no matter what. Even with all Dean had had to do to get their father to agree to this arrangement, with all the work it had taken to get the little rented house set up, Sam knew that if he did say the word, his brother would pack everything up and take him back to join their father without a word of complaint. He had always put Sam's wants and needs first, regardless of what it did to him personally. The knowledge of that lifelong constant both warmed Sam's heart and crushed him with guilt.

"Well, go if you're going then, Sammy. Can't have you late on your first day."

"It's Sam," the boy insisted, the dark eyebrows on his elfin face narrowed in irritation.

"Yeah, whatever, bitch," Dean teased smirking, gently shoving his little brother towards the door.

Sam scowled and shoved back. "Cut it out, jerk," he hissed as he grabbed for the door handle.

"Hey!" Dean called as Sam got out of the car. "Remember, I'll be here at three, so don't keep me waiting."

Sam sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I know," he answered wearily, bristling at reminder of the laundry list of rules that John had drummed into both of their heads over the last few weeks.

The blatant unfairness of them smacked Sam in the face every time he had to obey one. When Dean was seventeen, he had already been in charge of them both, on his own, for weeks at time, for years. Sam, it seemed, was incapable of walking himself home from school.

"Have fun, Sammy," Dean said, his voice much more soft than before. Sam gave him a half smile, his hazel green eyes lighting up for the first time that morning in appreciation of all that his brother was doing to make today possible.

"Thanks, Dean." Both brothers knew that the two little words held more meaning than just appreciation of Dean's previous sentiment.

Dean watched his little brother until Sam was all the way inside the school. He sat in the parking lot, letting the car idle while he instinctively scanned the area to make sure that he didn't catch any hint of a threat.

While it was true that he had already scoped out the entire grounds earlier in the week to get a good feel for the layout, one could never be too cautious, even for a little podunk K-12 school. Finally satisfying himself that Sam was as safe as he was going to get today, he pulled back out into the street, the Impala's engine growling as it tore up the asphalt underneath him.

Driving with speed and ease, he made his way back to the little house in record time, eager to get a headstart on the projects he had scheduled for today. Bobby had given him the day off, insisting that Dean needed a few hours to himself now that Sammy was in school. Over the last few weeks, Dean had been working like a madman, putting in overtime at the salvage yard as well as getting the house set up and Sammy settled. Their dad had been over for a few days last week between hunts to look things over, check for weaknesses in their defenses and finally to lay down the law where his youngest was concerned.

Dean felt bad for his brother. In John's insistence on keeping Sam under his thumb, he had laid out a list of instructions for him a mile long, rules that the boys had never had to follow when they were younger and living on the road with him, even when they had been left alone for long periods of time. Dean knew why their father was doing this. John was feeling threatened by his boys' growing independence from him and his oldest son correctly guessed that it was a reaction based on fear of losing them that caused him to come down so hard.

Poor Sammy had been left with a strict schedule of school, studying, training and bedtimes that he had to adhere to if they were to stay in Sioux Falls without their father. On more than one occasion, Dean had wondered if their father was making this arrangement as constricting as possible so that Sam would be convinced to throw the whole thing out the window and ask to return to their nomad lifestyle where he definitely had more freedom.

Dad didn't know his youngest son as well as he thought he did, though. Dean knew that the more their father tightened the reins, the harder Sammy would struggle to prove to him that it was worth it.

In the middle of this little skirmish, Dean was the one left enforcing the edicts, the thought of disobeying his father's orders never entering his head. Even though Dean was now twenty one years old, the dynamic between father and son did not change.

Dad commanded and Dean obeyed. Case closed. After all, he had always been John's good little soldier.

Dean didn't mind toeing the line himself even at his age. Although he had always shouldered a man's burden as far as care and protection of Sammy had been concerned, their father was strict and his military mind didn't allow for deviations from the rules. The one time, in all of those years, that Dean had disobeyed his father's instructions, he had almost gotten his little brother killed. It had been a lesson he never forgot.

Once Dean had turned eighteen, John had stepped back in the parenting department. In his eyes, his oldest was now a man, old enough to die for his country and therefore, too old to be coddled. Not that he had ever coddled Dean in the first place, but his son never pointed out that little discrepancy in his father's thinking.

The only thing John had insisted on was that Dean get his GED, which he had, easily. John's own GED had afforded him a place in the Marines and, although he didn't make a big thing about it, when they were born, he wanted his sons to be at least as educated as he had been, preferably more.

Dean had never mentioned how well he had scored on the series of aptitude tests that he had been forced to take in his junior year. The well meaning guidance counselor had tried to push him towards college, but he had always known where his future lay. Dean was fully in line with following the path of what shaped itself as their family business. He remembered his Mom, and a small part of him that still ached for her gentle touch would not be appeased until her murderer was made to pay for ripping their family apart.

In the end, it had not mattered anyway. A few weeks later, they had been on the move again, the counselor and the tests forgotten and, as soon has he could, Dean had taken the GED exam and that had been the end of the whole thing.

Entering the little house, Dean made his way into the decidedly out of date kitchen. It wasn't the worst place that they had ever lived in, but it wasn't the best either. They were getting a pretty good deal on the place thanks to Bobby's connections. The owner, an older stout woman named Mrs. Archer who wore too much lipstick that tended to clot on the sides of her mouth and who usually smelled like boiled cabbage, was a friend.

She had owed Bobby one from years ago and that gratitude had translated into a deep discount on the rent with the understanding that they wouldn't ask for too much in the way of repairs and that Bobby personally guarantee that the boys wouldn't wreck the place. Bobby had snorted in disbelief when she made that stipulation because he knew the boys and knew John's temper if they did anything irresponsible. They weren't your average kids.

Picking up Sammy's still full and discarded cereal bowl, Dean dumped out the contents in the trash and put it in the sink. Sam must have really been nervous this morning as he usually wasn't one to leave a mess lying around. If anything, he was all over Dean's case for being a little on the sloppy side. But not anymore, Dean had sworn to himself. He wanted to set a good example for his little brother now that they were settled.

When he allowed himself the rare moment of pain to remember what their lives had been like before the fire, he recalled that their house in Lawrence had always felt cozy and neat. Mom didn't like messes and one of the first chores Dean remembered having to do was to pick up after himself, even at four years old. As they grew up, typical boys, they didn't really keep things too tidy at the endless motels they had called home. Dad liked order, but they usually had plenty of warning when he was coming back after a hunt to clean up. Still, now that Dean had his own place, he wanted to make sure that it was kept nice, fully believing that a cozy house to come home to was all part of the Sammy-is-normal plan.

Dean liked the kitchen the best out of all of the rooms in the little house, even over the small bedroom that he had taken for himself grudgingly. With only two bedrooms in the house, he had wanted to save one for their father but, in typical gruff fashion, John had refused to put his eldest on what was basically the boy's own couch for the precious few days that he would be able to spare staying with them between hunts.

Perhaps Dean's fondness of the kitchen was just a result of his love affair with food but, more likely, it was because he had large patches of warm and fuzzies in his mind of the kitchen in the family home in Kansas. Even here in a no man's land part of South Dakota he found comfort amidst the avocado green decor that someone probably had thought looked really nice in the seventies, just because it was a place where, over a mashed together casserole of no defining description, he could pretend for a couple of hours a day that they were still a family.

His stomach growling in protest of his indifference towards it so far, he went to the fridge to pull out cold cuts for a sandwich. In truth, he had been just as nervous about this morning as his brother had been. Even though they had both attended a string of schools across the country, there was just something different about being settled in one place. But it was what Sam had wanted, and what Sammy wanted, his big brother had always tried his damnedest to give.

On the refrigerator door was a slightly fuzzy snapshot of Sam on his birthday in May. In his hand was a Little Debbie Swiss Roll with one lit candle plopped in the middle. It had become something of a tradition that their fly by night birthday celebrations always included one as the birthday "cake", seeing as neither one of them usually had one. John tried, really he did, but holidays had always taken a back seat to his obsession, even as he watched his boys grow right before his very eyes with very little fanfare to trumpet the years as they passed.

Later on, even as money became less tight with Dean working and scamming alongside their father, the Swiss Roll had become as much a part of their advancing years as the years themselves. When Sammy had blown on the lone candle in the bedroom of their room at the Pine View Motor Lodge in Duluth (there were no pines and, as such, no view of them either), Dean had taken a quick snap with his cellphone camera and now had the print obediently stuck to the outdated fridge as a reminder of why they were in Sioux Falls.

All it had taken was for him to mistakenly overhear his little brother's breathy plea of being normal this year to snap him into action. A simple birthday wish whispered over a solitary candle in a mass produced confection. One that had been oft repeated by a younger brother desperate to have something other than the decidedly abnormal lifestyle that had been the only life that Sammy ever knew.

The fights between Sam and their father were becoming far more frequent and far more hostile. How that was even possible, Dean didn't know, but it was the truth just the same. The year that Sammy was eight and had lifted Dad's journal, the same year that John had had the poor timing to miss Christmas with a troubled and now wholly disillusioned son, became the turning point in the relationship between father and youngest son. The fighting had begun that year and only increased in volume as time went on.

Dean was desperate to repair relations between the two people he loved most in the world. They were all that they had, all that he had, and it tore him up to see them at each other's throats. Even if they were blind to it, Dean could clearly see the problem. Sam and their father were practically the same person. Driven, stubborn, unable to see any point of view other than their own which, unfortunately, usually turned out to be polar opposite of what the other one thought. And there was Dean, perpetual monkey in the middle of the maelstrom that was the Winchester family.

He knew that he needed to do something to quench the fires that were smoldering before they become a full out blaze of catastrophic proportions. Time, a little distance, a cooling of tempers and some heavy duty compromises all around. Perhaps absence would make the hearts grow fonder.

So as Sammy had gazed despondently at the curl of smoke from the now extinguished candle in the Swiss Roll, a sad ten year old looking face plopped on top of a string bean six feet tall frame, the wheels of Dean's mind had already begun to formulate a plan of sorts.

"Wishes are horses today, Sammy," he had commented cryptically, grinning at the confused stare on his little brother's face.

It had not been easy to convince their father that Dean's plan was a sound one. In the end, it had been the convincing argument that Sammy might be less inclined to rebel against the hunter's life if he was allowed a small measure of time away from it. Faced with the pleading stares of his youngest, the steadfast assurances of his eldest and the relative safety net provided by the near presence of Bobby, a hunter whose skill and dedication to his boys were both traits that John appreciated, finally wore John down. Against his better judgement, he had acquiesced, knowing that over the years he had taken much from his boys' childhoods.

It was risk, he knew, for a variety of reasons. Their Bedouin lifestyle had always given John the impression that if something dark were to come after him and the boys, it would have to work hard to find them. Another concern had been CPS. One too many bruises on the boys at one time or another had necessitated a middle of the night move to another state before a social worker could investigate. It wasn't as if they could just tell the social worker that the boys had been banged up by an angry spirit during a hunt. That would have resulted in foster care and a psychiatric ward for John most likely.

As Dean now shut the fridge door, he couldn't help but see the list of instructions, carefully penned in his father's military precision handwriting, meant to leave neither of his boys in any doubt about what their limitations and responsibilities were during this next year. During his visit, John had sat them both down at the rickety kitchen table, paper in hand, and had gone over every detail with them, not satisfied to proceed to the next item on the list until he had received twin "yes, sirs" to each stipulation.

He had given Sam, and therefore, by virtue of necessity, Dean, a fairly tight schedule. Wake up at six a.m., an hour of exercise, breakfast, school, pick up at three o'clock, an hour of weapons training, an hour of research study, dinner, homework and then bed by ten for Sam. The last rule had made Sam grimace and Dean had felt sorry for him, knowing that it was just another measure of their father trying to dissuade his youngest from the belief that "normal" was better than the life they usually led. On the hunt, John only cared that his sons were getting enough sleep to ensure that they were alert. How they managed it was never a concern.

Some of this Dean agree to, some he did not. But, if he didn't agree, he at least understood. If Sammy wasn't allowed to go anywhere after school, it was because it was safer at home with Dean. In theory, he was allowed some free time on the weekends, as long as it was with friends that Dean had met and approved (only after they had been investigated, of course), but both boys knew that Sammy's free weekends would be few and far between. Their father had already made it quite clear that if they were within a day's driving range, they would be joining him in the field.

Dean had been pretty sure that John would be certain to hunt within that range for the duration of the school year. Dean was also pretty sure that he would find a way to work within the rules that allowed his brother some semblance of a social life. He wasn't going to keep Sammy in a choke collar. His little brother didn't respond well to such treatment.

Dean's cell phone's distinctive ring pulled him from his thoughts as he reached for it and he smiled seeing his father coming up on the caller ID. Unconsciously, he stood up a little straighter as he pushed the talk button, happy to hear from John so soon after his visit.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hey, Dean. How's everything going?"

The familiar comfort of his father's deep voice warmed him as it always had when they were separated. Just that small connection, reminding him that he wasn't completely alone in the care of his brother, gave him confidence that everything would be okay.

"Yeah, everything's good, Dad. How about with you?"

"I'm on my way to Minnesota to meet up with Jim and then we're going to check out a possible angry spirit outside of Milwaukee. Should be routine. Jim's only joining me because he has a new source for some good lore books that we're gonna stop by on the way back."

Dean frowned. His father was rambling. Something he only did when he was nervous, but Dean didn't call him on it.

"Hopefully, we'll be back to his place by Friday. If we are, I'll be expecting you boys to meet up with us there," John ordered, a little more gruffly than he had intended.

"Yes, sir. We will," Dean answered smartly, ever the obedient soldier. A few tense seconds of silence passed before his father spoke again. A little more softly this time, and Dean wondered if this was the true reason for the call.

"Did Sammy get off to school this morning okay?"

Dean smiled to himself, his father's carefully implemented indifferent attitude showing at the seams to his eldest who sometimes knew the older man better than he did himself.

"Yes, sir. Took him myself and stayed to make sure that he was out of harm's way before I left."

"That's my man," John spit out gruffly, his three little words sweeter to his oldest than Christmas candy to a toddler. "Listen, Dean, I gotta go, but I'll call back in a couple of days. Watch out for Sammy, son. I'm counting on you."

Dean allowed himself a small smile since he knew his father couldn't see him, the words as familiar to him as his own face.

"Yes, sir. I promise. Bye, Dad."

"Bye." Click.

Such was the extent of a father to son heart to heart with John Wincester.

Dean was still grinning as he shoved his phone back into his pocket and reached for his sandwich. He ate with one hand as he pried open the freezer door with the other. Pulling out a package of frozen chicken, he threw it into the fridge section to thaw for dinner. The concept of actually cooking was starting to grow on him. Eating out for every meal was cost prohibitive and, although he had been mildly concerned about looking like a chick as he uncomfortably ambled up and down the supermarket aisles, he was starting to get used to the routine.

With the help of a couple of dog eared cookbooks that they had found shoved in a corner of the musty attic, he had managed to keep them both reasonably well fed, all things considered. It was amazing what you could do with a couple of cans of Campbell's soup.

Ambling out to the living room, he turned on the ancient television and surfed the limited channels until he found a daytime talk show, one of the guilty pleasures of his life that he would deny to the death and gouge out the eyes of anyone that actually caught him. Flopping on the couch, he kicked his legs up onto the battered coffee table and settled back to enjoy his first day off in what seemed like forever.

He missed the hunt. Hell, he really missed his father. John was his personal idol, his role model and guide. Still, it wasn't as if his dad was going to be around less now than he usually was. He would be gone for weeks at a time anyway, but Dean missed the recent camaraderie that they had built up over the last few years. Once Dean had finished school, John had started treating him more like a comrade in arms and less like a son.

Although Dean secretly lamented the loss of his father, he relished in the praise he received as a full time hunter. In the back of his mind, he had always known that Sammy was the favorite son but now, finally, Dean thought he had found his niche in John Winchester's life. He was a good hunter, and an instinctual one, the adrenaline rush he felt when finishing a job the closest thing to bliss that he thought he would ever experience. Well, that, and the time he had spent with bendy Lisa the yoga instructor.

As the day progressed, he puttered around the house, taking a minute or two here and there to sort out a couple of little nagging repairs that had been getting on his nerves. It kept him occupied, kept his mind off his father somewhere working without him, kept his thoughts off of dreams for himself that would never come true. If he could just keep them in the back of his mind, he could get through the next year as painlessly as possible.

It was while he was out in the minuscule backyard attempting to coax the antique lawnmower to life that he realized how quickly the day flew by. It was almost three, so he toweled off his greasy hands and hopped in the Impala to retrieve Sam on time.

He pulled into the parking lot just as the school doors were opening and it didn't take long for him to spot his little brother loping along in the crowd. As Sam made his way over to the car, Dean could already see the broad smile on the kid's face lighting it up with the intensity of the sun.

It was then that he knew that all of this was worth it.