"Dean," a small voice pleaded, holding up a half-filled box of Mac-N-Cheese, "I'm hungry."

Dean looked over to his younger brother, Sam, with a look of empathy. The brothers were running out of food; they hadn't expected their father to be gone this long. He had gone out hunting some demon- or ghost; Dean wasn't sure, but John had promised he'd be back before July 12th. It was now July 23rd.

"Sorry, Sammy," Dean said, annoyed. "We need to keep what we got. That means no food unless it's absolutely necessary. Like, we're starving, or something."

The seven year-old shook his head, "But I'm hungry, Dean."

"Sam, I said no!" Dean attempted to grab the box from his little brother, but Sam had a tight grip on it. He tried again, but Sam held it tighter.

"Dean!" Sam begged, on the verge of tears, "Please!"

"Sam, no! Why can't you just listen, you moron?!"

Sam dropped the box, causing the macaroni to spill all over the floor.

He tried not to cry, "I'm sorry, Dean."

He knelt down, picking up each noodle individually, and putting them back in the box. He didn't like making his brother mad, but he hadn't eaten in three days- he didn't know what to do.

He had been raised this way; hunting comes before all else. It came before school. 'Needs before wants,' his father always said.

He didn't understand that he was saving people, he just knew that he wasn't like the rest of the kids. He didn't go trick-or-treating, he helped get rid of the monsters. When all the other kids were learning how to do origami, he was learning Ju Jitsu. He didn't understand Mother's and Father's Day, because he wasn't thankful. His mother was dead and his father was never there. What was to celebrate?

Sometimes, though, Sam liked to pretend he wasn't a hunter. He liked to pretend that he didn't move all the time. He liked to pretend that his family was like the ones his classmates had, where they played games and read each other stories. But he knew that it was all pretend.

Later that night, after a quick nap, Sam woke up to Dean shaking him softly.

"Sammy?" the eleven year-old started, "Sammy get up."

He sat up, looking around.

"Dad called," Dean noted, "Said he'll be home soon."

Sam realized that there was a bowl on the table.

Dean looked over to it, sheepishly, "I made some Mac-N-Cheese, but you fell asleep."

Sam smiled, "Thanks, Dean."

Okay, crappy, cheesy, 100% expected ending.

This is going to be the first of many Sam and Dean childhood oneshots, gathered into this one story.

So... Yeah.

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