Chapter One

Sam didn't remember the fire. The only information he had ever gotten about the accident was what his big brother, Dean, had told him, and that wasn't a lot. He knew that the fire had started in his nursery, and that the house had almost burned down to the ground. He also knew that his mother Mary had died in the fire, trying to protect him. He didn't remember her either.

Sam used to dig through his Father's pockets when no one was there, looking for the small crumpled picture of her he knew his father was always carrying; but when he had cut himself on a sharp piece of glass in the pocket, he had been busted by Dean and told never to touch his father's things again. Now Sam only had his imagination, and when he was playing with the little toy soldiers Dean had given to him, he always pretended to be on a mission to save Princess Mary from the evil fire monster.

Sam rolled over in the creaky motel bed and looked at the alarm clock. Today had been a good day. It was May 2nd, Sam's 5th birthday. Earlier his dad, John, had dropped him and Dean off at a chain fast food place called "Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie", before he had left to "do business", as Dean had called it. Sam knew not to pester Dean for more information about what "business" was supposed to mean; it always made Dean angry, and today was Sam's birthday and he was hoping that Dean would play with him in the arcade; and once John had left Dean had played with him. Dean had thrown balls at a line of tin cans and managed to hit them all, but when he was offered a price he had refused and moved on to the next stall. The man in the stall had noticed Sam eying the line of presents, and offered him to pick one instead of his brother. Before Dean could notice, Sam pointed at a blue book that read "Fairy Tales and Poetry by H.C. Andersen", and quickly stuffed it under his shirt.

Despite having run around and played all day Sam wasn't too tired now that he was back at the motel. Dean had told him to go to bed, but he still had leftover energy from the fun he had had earlier. Sam moved over again and was now facing Dean and John who were sitting by the table.

Sam didn't dare open his eyes, but through his lashes he got a glimpse of his dad writing in the journal he always carries around, which even Dean was forbidden from touching. Dean sat on the other side of the table cleaning "something" off one of John's knives. "Something" was at least what Dean would call it if he asked, but Sam wasn't stupid, he knew what blood was.

Sam heard dad whisper something to Dean, but despite his best efforts, Sam wasn't able to make out more than a few words like "signs", "children" and "fire". When he heard the last word a shudder ran up his spine.

After a while John got up from the chair and Sam quickly did his best to pretend to be asleep. John grabbed his heavy leather jacket from the bed next to Sam's and walked towards the door.

"There's a nest out east I've gotta go check on", said John in a stern voice," I'll be back tomorrow."

Dean had gotten up from his chair as well, stood straight and looked up at their dad. "Yes sir," he said.

"I left some money on the bed, should be enough."

Sam peaked through his lashes and saw a couple of notes on the bed next to him.

John moved towards the door, but before he opened it he turned towards Dean again and pointed a finger at him, "and you remember what I always tell you, right Dean?" he said slowly, spelling it out, "Watch out for Sam. Don't let him out of your sight."

"Watch out for Sammy," Dean repeated.

Sam didn't understand why Dean had to look out for him; he wasn't planning on running anywhere.

Sam heard a click as the door closed behind their dad and opened his eyes to look at his brother slump back in the chair.

Sam sat up in the bed and looked at his brother's blank expression. Dean didn't smile a whole lot, but Sam remembered earlier, at Plucky's, when his face had broken into a full grin as he scored full points in an arcade shooter game. Sam thought Dean's smile had magical abilities. When Dean smiled it was almost as if invisible small people pulled at the edges of Sam's mouth, making him smile as well.

"Didn't I tell you to go to sleep?!"

Sam jumped at Dean's sudden loud voice and looked down at his hands.

"Have you been listening to what we were saying?"

Sam shook his head but Dean didn't look convinced.

"I've told you not to listen!"

Sam pulled his blanket up under his chin and continued to avoid Dean's angry gaze. A minute ticked by before Dean sighed and sat down in front of Sam. He placed two of his fingers under Sam's chin and lifted his gaze to meet his own.

"I've told you not to listen," he said in a much calmer voice, "It's for your own best, alright?"

Sam nodded and pointed at the money on the other bed.

"Yeah, dad's leaving, but he'll be back tomorrow so don't worry."

Sam looked at Dean questioningly, but Dean shook his head and pushed Sam down so he was lying again.

"Go back to bed."

Dean was about to get up, but Sam held onto his shirt.

"Come on Sammy."

Sam pouted and let go of his shirt. Dean carefully tugged the corners of the blanket under Sam and went back to polishing the knives. After 20 minutes of listening to Sam twist and turn in his bed Dean gave up and dropped down next to Sam.

"You want me to stay a little?"

Sam nodded and moved over to make more place for his big brother.

Dean crossed his arms and looked down at Sam, who was staring at him.

"What?"

From underneath his pillow Sam pulled out the blue book he had gotten earlier at Plucky's.

"What's that?" said Dean and snatched the book from Sam's hands.

"Fairy Tales and Poetry by H.C. Andersen", he read out loud.

"Did you steal this?"

Sam quickly shook his head.

"Sam… you remember what dad told you about those stupid fairy tales?"

Sam looked up at Dean, and gave him the look that Sam knew would make him surrender.

"Alright!" Deans said, "I'll read it if you promise to go to bed, you understand?"

Sam smiled eagerly and nodded.

Dean turned the first page over and read "The Little Mermaid".

"Way too girly Sammy, forget it," he said and started to flip through the book. After a while Sam grew impatient and stuffed his fingers into the book at a random page.

"The Dying Child?" said Dean, "really?"

Sam tapped the page impatiently and leaned his head on Dean's shoulder.

"Don't blame me if you have nightmares", Dean mumbled before he began to read.

"The Dying Child" was a fairly short poem, but it did its deed, when Dean finished Sam was snoring quietly on Dean's shoulder. Dean knew that he was supposed to get up and finish cleaning his dad's things, but didn't want to move Sam when he had just fallen asleep.

Without anything else to do Dean opened the book again and reread the poem. Dean thought it was just like Sam to pick some sappy book like this.

Making sure that Sam was in deep sleep Dean flipped back to "The Little Mermaid" and started to read. He had never told Sam about it, but this story was one of Dean's few memories of his mother. She had read it to him when he was about Sam's age, and he remembered clearly how tears had welled up in her eyes when the mermaid turned into foam.

As he read his eyes got heavy and before he knew of it he had fallen asleep with the book in his hands.

The next morning Dean woke up with a start. He hurried to the window and checked the salt lines he had forgotten to redo last night. He let out a relieved sigh when he saw that they were left untouched. It was a luck that John hadn't come back early, as Dean knew he would have been furious with him for falling asleep without finishing the cleaning or checking the devil's traps.

Dean's stomach rumbled. He opened the motel fridge, but it was empty aside from a couple of his dad's beers. He then went over to Sam who was still sleeping, pulled the covers off him and clapped his hands.

"Rise and shine Sammy!"

Sammy shot him an angry glare and yawned.

"Gotta go grocery shopping, so get ready," said Dean while putting on a fresh pair of socks, "your clothes are in the duffel."

Sam dressed and Dean went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and to fetch Sam's toothbrush.

"Open up," he said.

Sam obeyed, and let Dean brush his teeth, but when Dean hit the back of Sam's throat he gagged and angrily pushed his hand away.

"Would you quit complaining!?" Dean yelled and brought the toothbrush back to Sam's lips.

After five more minutes not only Sam's teeth, but also his cheeks, nose, and Dean's hands, were completely covered in toothpaste.

"You're such a baby," Dean said and wiped his hands on the bed.

Sam went to the bathroom to wash his face, and when he finished he went back into the main room where Dean was standing impatiently tapping his foot next to the door.

"Seriously Sammy you'll never grow if you keep eating like that."

Dean was pushing Sam in the shopping cart, and the last ten minutes Sam had been stubbornly pointing at the cereal aisle. Every time they got near Sam would forcefully turn Dean's head towards his favorite brand and mope loudly.

"Okay then!" Dean rolled his eyes, "but then you won't get any juice, you'll have to drink milk!"

Sam smiled and stood up in the cart to pick a box.

On the way to the counter Dean threw a can of SpaghettiOs and a loaf of bread next to Sam in the cart and pulled out the money John had left them the night before.

"Alright, what have you got there", the lady at the counter smiled at Sam and Dean as they placed the items in front of her.

"Is that all hun?" she asked, Dean grunted absentmindedly in response.

"Alrighty," she beamed and started typing the prices on the cash register.

The cash register made a loud noise and printed their receipt, but before handing it over she asked him where their parents were with worry in her eyes.

"They're waiting in the car ma'am," Dean sent her one of his most charming smiles. She didn't look too convinced but gave him the receipt nonetheless and smiled at them all the way out of the store.

"Nosy," Sam heard Dean mutter as the door closed behind them.

Back at the motel Sam quickly finished a bowl of cereal and went over to play. Dean collected their bowls and started to do the dishes when he felt someone tug at his shirt. He turned around and saw Sam holding out one of his little toy cars.

"I don't have time," said Dean.

Sam tried to open Dean's hand to forcefully place the car in his palm, but Dean raised his hand out of Sam's reach.

"I have to do the dishes Sam; I don't have time to play."

Sam pouted but went back to play by himself.

Dean faced the sink again and poured hot water over the knife he hadn't gotten to last night. He scrubbed at the dry blood left on the blade, turning the soap water in their bowls red. When he was satisfied with the cleanliness of the knife he picked it up to admire it in the light, and that was when he felt something hard press against back. He jumped and dropped the knife, cutting the tip of his thumb in the process. He instinctively turned around, ready to strike, but it was just Sam again, mimicking a gun with his hands.

"Pew", Sam whispered.

"Alright," Dean rolled his eyes and made a gun gesture with his left hand while sucking on his bleeding right thumb.

"Bang!" he said and pretended to shoot Sam. Sam dramatically jumped to the floor, avoiding Dean's bullet, and ran behind the bed.

"You can't hide!" Dean exclaimed and pretended to look for Sam with narrowed eyes.

Sam appeared from behind the bed, "pew, pew!"

"Argh, you got me!" Dean got down on his knees as if in pain and started coughing.

Sam laughed and jumped on the bed in victory, but was interrupted when the motel phone rang.

Dean quickly got up and grabbed the receiver, "Dad?"

Sam moved closer to the phone, trying to listen in on the conversation, but Dean placed a hand in his face and pushed him away.

"Yes"

"He's right here"

"Okay…"

"Sorry sir."

"I understand"

"Yes sir."

Sam heard the beeping noise of the phone being hung up on the other end and looked up at Dean.

"We've gotta go Sammy, dad won't be able to come back to pay the motel for another night so we gotta go to Bobby's."

Sam liked Bobby, he always told Dean and him to call him "Uncle Bobby" and let them play outside in the scrap yard, but Dean didn't look very happy.

Dean threw all their belongings into the duffel and ushered Sam out of the door.

Outside the sun was shining bright and it was warm for early May.

Sam only had one pair of shoes; a pair of thick army colored boots, and his feet were completely soaked in sweat from walking on the hot pavement. He tugged at Dean's firm grip on his hand trying to get loose as his fingers were sweating profusely from the contact, making them itch.

"Quit pulling," Dean mumbled and gazed around for a bus stop, but there were none as far as he could see.

"Excuse me; do you know where the nearest bus stop is?" Dean asked a couple with a child around Sam's age carrying maps.

"Where you going son?" the man asked.

"Sioux Falls."

The man raised his brows and said: "Isn't that a lil' too far all by yourselves?"

"No sir our uncle will pick us up there", Dean lied.

"Well we wouldn't mind taking you there, would we honey?"

"No of course not!" the man's blonde wife smiled at Sam and leaned over, "And what is your name sweetheart?"

Sam quickly jumped closer to Dean and held on to his leg. The woman's smile faltered but she continued to look at Sam.

"His name is Sam", Dean cut in.

"You want candy?" the freckled kid next to the woman said.

Sam just shook his head and gestured no with his hands.

"Mom", the kid said, "Why can't he talk? Mom is he stupid?"

"Thomas!" the woman yelled embarrassedly and hit the child softly over the head with the back of her hand.

"We're leaving," said Dean and angrily dragged Sam away from the couple.

He heard the woman yell something at them, but ignored it. He was walking so fast that Sam had a hard time keeping up, and kept stumbling over his feet.

"Just because he isn't talking right now doesn't mean he won't ever learn", Dean muttered to himself under his breath.

"He'll have a breakthrough and it will be just fine."

Dean remembered there had been a time when he had forgotten how to speak as well.

Dean hadn't managed to ask the couple for directions, but he wouldn't admit to Sam that he was lost. He thought about what dad would do if he arrived at Bobby's and they weren't there. He shuddered.

After having walked around for almost 3 hours Sam suddenly dropped to the ground and refused to walk anymore.

"Get up Sam!" Dean roared but Sam just shook his head and refused to look at him, he untied his army boots and took them off.

"Put your damn shoes on!"

Dean grabbed Sam's angles and started to forcefully put the boots back on, while Sam was hitting him on the back with all the might his small body could master.

"Quit it!" he yelled and slapped Sam on the side of his face.

For a moment Sam was quiet, but then he started wailing loudly.

Dean looked around to see if anyone was watching and pointed a finger at Sam: "Be a man," he hissed and dragged Sam to his feet and started walking. When he didn't hear Sam's little footsteps follow behind him he stopped and sighed. He looked over his shoulder and saw that Sam was sitting on the ground again, sobbing quietly. Dean kneeled, placing one knee on the ground and gestured to Sam to come over.

"Come on, it's okay, get on."

He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt Sam's hands on his shoulders as he crawled onto Dean's back. He felt Sam's tear wet cheek soak up his t shirt, but he didn't mind.

"I'm sorry Sammy, I shouldn't have hit you," he whispered.

Sam folded his hands around Dean's neck and nuzzled his face into his shoulder. Dean smiled and Sam was soon fast asleep.

Dean walked for another two hours before he finally found a sign that read "bus station". He asked the bored-looking bus driver in the nearest bus how much it would cost to get to Sioux Falls; when he looked over Dean's shoulder at Sam's sleeping body he shrugged and told him to get in. It was a small bus with space for about 20 people; Dean went all the way to the back and gently placed Sam closest to the window. He then went back to the bus driver and handed him the rest of the money, the bus driver looking at it and sighed, but didn't tell them to leave, so Dean explained to him where to drop them off.

Sam woke up with a yawn and found that he was sitting in a bus, leaning against the warm window. He wiped a bit of drool off his cheek and looked around. Dean was sitting next to him with his head back and his mouth open, sleeping soundly.

Sam didn't recognize the houses outside as the bus drove down a small shoddy looking street, and the signs moved by too fast for him to read, even though he had gotten pretty good at reading since Dean had begun practicing with him. Reading was one of Sam's favorite activities. Dean would pick one of his comic books, read to him slowly and point at every syllable so Sam could learn how they were pronounced by looking at them. Dean rarely agreed to play and maybe it wasn't so much the reading part that Sam liked, but the part where Dean would sit with him for hours. Dean seemed to enjoy the reading sessions as well, especially when John wasn't there; he would give the characters funny voices and make long rhetorical breaks.

Sam looked at his brother and saw that his expression had changed a bit, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows. Sam thought that he might be having a nightmare. He bowed down to search the duffel that was lying beneath their feet, but found that Dean was holding on to one of his belt loops with a finger. Instead he reached behind his back and pulled his blue fairy tale book out of his small backpack. He laid it in Dean's lap and placed Dean's hand on the cover, hoping it would somehow help him sleep better.

"We're there now son."

Dean woke up surprised to find that he had fallen asleep again. Lately, he had been falling asleep at times and in places he wasn't supposed to. He was supposed to keep watch, to be alert and ready at all times, for the things he knew were out to get them. He knew that his dad would be disappointed if he found out that Dean had fallen asleep in a place as public as the bus. Annoyed he pushed Sam who woke up with a start. Dean held on to Sam's hand and quickly made it for the door, not noticing the blue book that fell from his lap onto the floor.

When they stepped outside Sam looked back into the bus one more time and noticed the book lying on the ground, he wrestled himself out of Dean's grip, jumped into the bus as the doors were closing and ran over to pick up the book.

"Sam!" Dean yelled as the doors closed behind his brother.

The bus started to move and Dean ran after it knocking on the windows in panic.

"Hey little man weren't you supposed to get off the same place as your brother," said the bus driver who had noticed Sam standing alone between the seats. He stopped the bus again and let Sam off.

"Are you trying to get me killed you idiot!" Dean yelled at Sam as he caught up with the bus, but when he saw tears starting to well up in Sam's eyes he sighed and said: "Don't worry about it, we're okay, you're okay now, just… don't do that again."

With his blue book in hand he followed his big brother down the barren road to Bobby Singers house.

"If it ain't Sam and Dean Winchester," said Bobby with raised brows "didn't know you boys were swinging by today, would've cooked something up."

"Dad's in the middle of some business out east," said Dean.

"I bet he is," Bobby said under his breath and ran narrowed eyes down the road the boys had come from. When he didn't find anything or anyone he shook his head, "well come on in."

Sam dropped his backpack and pulled off his shoes in front of the door and ran into his favorite part of the house, the office, with all its weird books he couldn't read. He had been prohibited from touching any of the books on the top shelf and from opening any of the drawers since last time, when Dean had busted him playing with a little vial filled with what looked like bright white liquid. Dean had quickly slapped the vial out of his hands and the vial had fallen to the ground and broken into the pieces; but instead of seeping through the wooden planks, the strange shiny liquid had seemed to take off through the ceiling. Sam had tried his best to apologize to Bobby, but Bobby had just sighed and told him that he had no idea what had been in the vial anyway.

"Dinner's ready in the kitchen," said Bobby and patted Sam on the head.

Since Sam hadn't eaten anything but one bowl of cereal all day he was starving. He ran around Bobby and into the kitchen where Dean was already sitting and studying one of his dad's guns.

"Put that thing away will ya?" said Bobby.

"Dad told me to ask you to take me target practicing."

"Well now's dinner so get that thing off the table," Bobby grunted.

Both Sam and Dean ate for a person two times their sizes and Bobby wondered when they had last had a proper meal. When they finished eating Dean insisted to do the dishes although Bobby had tried to tell him that he'd rather he played a little with Sam; but Dean was stubborn and instead Bobby went upstairs to prepare a place for Sam and Dean to sleep.

On the first night Bobby had waited up in case John would call, but three days passed without any signs from him. Bobby didn't mind having the boys there, he had grown fond of them over the years, and truth be told wouldn't mind taking them on full time. He was well aware of the fact that he wasn't their father, but at least he had a stable and somewhat secure place for them to stay. But Bobby knew how John would react if he offered to take them in, and thus he had never tried. He would react just as he did every time Bobby voiced his concerns for Sam and Dean; he would get defensive and end the conversation before it could even begin.

On the fourth day Bobby took Sam and Dean outside to play soccer, Bobby and Sam against Dean, and team Sam were currently losing 7 to 2. Dean had gotten a little too spirited, kicked the ball right in Sam's face whereafter Sam had cried for 5 minutes. He hadn't stopped crying before Dean had come over and assured him that there were no injuries.

Dean was in the middle of upping his score with another point when he saw John leaning against the Impala under a couple of trees. Dean immediately straightened his back and greeted his dad.

"You been good?" John asked walking towards Dean.

"Yes sir!" Dean responded.

"Nothing happened on the way here?"

"No sir, I watched out for Sammy and went straight to Bobby's as you told me."

"Good, well done," said John and patted Dean once on the shoulder, "we're leaving so go get your stuff." Dean smiled proudly and ran towards Bobby's house.

"And where the hell have you been?" Bobby fumed.

John looked at him for the first time since he had arrived, "You know what I've been doing."

"What the hell has got you so busy you couldn't even pick up a god damn phone?"

"Not in front of Sam, Bobby," John hissed, but Bobby only raised his voice.

"The boys show up on my front porch half starved to death and now you tellin' me not to ask any questions?"

John took an angry step towards Bobby, but before he could open his mouth to spit something back at him Dean had reappeared.

"We're all ready sir."

"Get in the car," John hissed.

The smile disappeared from Dean's face and he quickly obeyed.

John sent one last glare at Bobby before he turned around and walked towards the car as well.

"Come on Sam!" he yelled.

Sam lingered, he stared between his dad's back and Bobby's angry expression. When Bobby saw that Sam was looking at him he tried to give him a reassuring nod.

Sam ran over and picked up the ball that Dean had left, and handed it to Bobby. Bobby kneeled in front of Sam and ruffled his hair, "see ya soon boy."

"Come on Sammy!" he heard his big brother yell impatiently from the open car window, "and bye Uncle Bobby!"

Sam walked quietly towards the car and got in next to Dean. John started the engine and took off with a roar.

Bobby waved until the car was out of sight, then he sighed, shook his head, and threw the soccer ball into the open hut of one of the scrapped cars.

Authors note:

Hey, this is my very first piece of fanfiction - so please be gentle.

I'd like to warn you that English is not my native language (truth be told i've only studied it for six years) and therefore I will make mistakes, sorry! I don't have anyone to proofread it aside from me, so you're more than welcome to point out any mistakes. I'm also sorry about any britishism, we're only taught British English at my school.

This fic was planned and sketched some time ago, before season nine, and any new information given in that season will not be taken into consideration. Probably.

I'd describe this as an AU taking place in the pre-series SU universe. Many major things follow canon, but some things have been changed as well.
If you're confused about anything (or just want to talk/ comment on something) you're more than welcome to contact me on here or on tumblr where my username is Devils-helmet.

So this chapter was pretty Sam POV, but the whole story will not be like that. Most of the story will be written in Dean's POV (not in first person), and there will be no strange POV jumps so don't worry ahaha.
I'd also like to warn you that the warnings are to be taken seriously, although they won't come to play just yet.
And uh yes, Castiel will not be making an appearence just yet either (don't worry though, this is actually a destiel fic so he will appear lol).
It was not supposed to be a wincest fic but you can read it in whichever way you want mate.

Thank you!