Heya all! There's my new little Weechester-Fiction... only this time, I'll maybe make a small continuation out of it... The story tells about Sam's soccer-trophy... how it comes to it, or how it could have been, also it tells a little about Dean, and what he relinquished for his family... I decided Sam is 9 and Dean 13

I don't own them... doing this for fun... and to entertain people...

Lee


I never knew

Dean had watched the game with pride and cheered every time his little brother was running out his opponents. It was the end-game of the school-championship and Dean just knew they'd do it.

He literally jumped out of his seat as Sam drew back his foot and the ball went flying, briefly closing his eyes and as he opened them again, the goalkeeper was lying on his side, the people all applauding in an energetic rhythm. Sam had made another goal for his team…

He remembered back, three month ago…

Dean was furious. He had waited for Sam at least twenty minutes. They were supposed to be home by now, which meant his dad would be furious as well.

He had already searched the whole school for his little brother, and slowly the anger turned into worry. Where was Sam? As he rounded the corner of the ugly school-building he saw him sitting on the edge of the pitch at the schools sport-field. Alone. His anger drained almost immediately. Sighing out loud, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and trudged over to the younger boy.

Sam didn't noticed him, until he towered right over him. "What are you doing here short-stuff!" he asked nonchalantly. "You know dad's gonna be pissed, when we're late again."

Sammy looked up at him and Dean immediately crouched.

"What happened?" he asked, seeing the sad eyes, already tears glistening in the corners.

Sammy hung his head. "I hate sports! And I hate soccer!"

Dean plopped on the ground on the opposite of Sam, drawing his legs up to his chest.

"Tell me." He said.

"I'm just not good enough." Sam sighed troubled. "No one wants me in his team. I'm just the stupid new kid, who's not able to hit the ball. I suck!"

Dean snorted in disbelieve at his little brother. "Wait a minute, aren't you the short legged twerp that outruns ME sometimes?" he asked, trying to get a smile on his brother's face.

"Oh, come on Dean! Do you think I'm THAT stupid? Maybe I was when I was five. I'm not five any more!" Dean stood, annoyed from Sam's behaviour. Putting his hands on his hip he challenged: "Yeah, well! But here you sit, like a stubborn, spoiled brat – instead you do something about this!" Now Sam stood as well: "Well, what am I supposed to do! Cursing the ball into the goal? I just… I…"

"Ohhhh no, no, no. "Can't" is just no option. I always told you; you can do everything you WANT." Dean interrupted him. Sam pushed him. "Oh yeah! Says the guy who skips school on every possible occasion!" Sam snorted. Dean bit his lips at the remark. "You don't know what you're talking." He turned away from Sam swallowing hard. It had been a low punch.

For a while he stared out at the pitch and as a hand touched him on his shoulder he flinched violently, so lost in thought he had been.

"Sorry." Sammy said. "It's not your fault I'm not good at soccer. And I just used you as a punching bag…" Sammy saw his brother rub on his eyes. Dean wouldn't cry over this dumb fight like a baby, would he? But as Dean turned back, he just had a wickedly grin on his face.

"Well, Samantha. Looks like you're getting a little touchy, bitch?" Sam smiled at him. "Jerk!"

...

The two boys were now lost in their game, forgetting time, duty and sorrow. It had started to rain, but they didn't care. They enjoyed for once being just what they were. Boys. Dean had suggested, that they would play their own soccer. Soccer á la Winchester. So, everything was allowed. Tugging, ducking, light kicking and punching, dragging, pushing and pulling. The whole pitch was theirs. And both were player and keeper at the same time. Now Dean stood slightly behind and beside Sam, his mouth near his ear, letting Sam concentrate. "You never focus on the ball when you shoot." He whispered.
The game was equal, and both decided it would end after everyone had one last shot from the doubled range of an penalty kick. Winner would be who hit, or came nearer at the goal. Dean felt Sam almost shudder in anticipation, adrenaline pulsing through his little brothers body. Sam nodded quietly, taking measure, than ran, drew his leg back and shot.

The ball flew in an slight and fast arc, hitting the goal… and then the tension was gone! Sammy jumped up and down, like a maniac Indian dancing for rain. Dean grinned, suddenly proud but jealous at the same time.

He saw Sam suddenly stopping his wild dance and freezing. He himself felt going rigid, as someones hand grabbed his shoulder hard, forcing him around.

There their dad stood, his face dark in anger. Dean swallowed, and felt as he was pushed forward, one rough hand on his scruff. "We'll talk about this later." His dad only hissed. Then he called back to Sammy who still stood stock still. "Sam, move it, will ya?"

...

It was late at night and Sammy knew he should be asleep. But ever since the game of soccer with his brother today, a question was running through his head, and he still waited for his brother to return to their room. He almost was on the brink of sleep, as the door opened quietly, and Dean slipped in.

"Dean?" he asked hesitantly. It took a while, but eventually he answered: "Hmmmm?" "Are you okay?" Sammy asked, first he needed to know that their dad hadn't punished him too hard.

He heard Dean sighing as he laid down. "Just tired…" he answered monosyllabic.

"Why did you never tell me?" Sam continued. Again, it took some time before Dean answered. "What?" he finally wanted to know. "That you're that good at soccer…" Sam said plainly. "What would it help if you knew?" Dean answered. Sam could hear Dean turning his back on him from the sound of his voice. "Well, you could have helped me from the beginning…" there it was. The small accusation. "Go to sleep Sam." He got in reply. "No. I wanna know." He said.

Dean sighed again, grumbling something under his breath. "I never played soccer... I didn't know." He finally gave Sam his answer. "Now let me sleep."

Sam laid there, in the dark, listening to his big brothers breath evening out, thinking about his last words. Dean had never played soccer… he hadn't been able to attend to a soccer-team at school… because, whenever Sam could remember Dean had been on his side. He swallowed at this thought, suddenly tears running down his face. "I never played soccer… I didn't know."

He almost jumped out of the bed, as some one placed a hand on his shoulder, a gentle hand, not a rough hand, like dad's had been on Dean's neck today…

He didn't talk, just lunched himself in his brothers arms, crying like a little baby.

"I'm so sorry, I said those things to you today…" he sobbed, crushing his brother with his hug. Arms running up and down his back, while Dean soothed him. "Shhh… it's okay. I know you didn't mean it…" he heard Dean's voice tremble as well, and felt his brother's chest hitching, trying in vain to suppress a sob. "I never knew…" Sam cried, and stopped as Dean grabbed him at his arms pushing him away slightly. "I wanted to do this, okay?" Dean said, trying to see through the darkness in his brothers face. "I wanted it. I knew dad would be pissed all the time… but this time with you… pretending… it's worth it…. Time with you is invaluable. Okay?" He shook his baby brother a little. "Okay…?!" he wanted his brother to acknowledge. "Okay." Sammy whispered.

"Now go to sleep, tiger."

Back to present…

Dean knew it all had been worth it. And today was worth it as well. John didn't know. If he knew… Dean would think about it, if it would come to it. A shrill whistle echoed over the pitch and the game ended. Dean bellowed the name of Sam's team together with the audience, almost jumping up and down, mimicking his brother on that certain afternoon three months back. He looked at his watch, only to see, that they had left thirty minutes before their dad would come home.

He watched Sam, enjoying this afternoon… or better his afternoon. He had won three goals in this game. Sam and his team-mates were celebrating their victory, screaming and laughing, hugging each other. He laughed out loud, as they carried Sam on their shoulders, remembering the pout his brother had made three month ago. No one liked him… Crap! Every one liked him!

He almost forgot to breathe, as some one laid his hands on his shoulder. Not rough, but a gentle touch. Still he tensed. Then one arm, wrapped around his chest, pulling him back.

"Hey sport!" his father said softly, no anger or wrath in his voice. "Why didn't you tell me today is the big game…" Dean shrugged. "Guessed you were busy…" he answered, without leaving his brother from sight. "You trained him good…" his dad continued, one hand ruffling his hair. "Most of this was his own work." Dean disagreed. "I just had to nudge him a little in the correct direction." He grinned proudly, it had all been worth it...

Together they left their spot to wait for Sam…

FIN

Hope you liked it. I'm thinking to make another short-story concerning Dean's punishment, and why it took him so long to get back at night... but I'm not sure at the moment...