Dean is four years old. Innocent as a child should be. But certain circumstances arise, put in place by none other than God and the angels, and on a quiet November night, he is handed Sammy, and told to "Take your brother outside as fast as you can-don't look back. Now Dean! Go!"
He does what he's told. He sprints down the stairs and out the door, a tight grip on his still whimpering little brother. Sammy isn't even a year old yet, too small to throw around a football, like Dad said.
Dean looks back at the house, watching the flames engulf the nursery. He wonders where Mommy is.
Dean is eight years old. It's been four years since Mom died. Dean realizes that now. Now that Dad found out what had really happened. That there is something to be afraid of in the dark.
He does what Dad says. "Take care of your brother." He does. He tries. He tries to make mac and cheese, but Sammy wants Lucky Charms. He really tries. He tries to protect his brother from that Shtriga, but he just. Couldn't.
Dad rushed in and shot it.
When Dad left them at Uncle Bobby's, Dean tried to tell him that Dad wanted him to practice with a double barrel, but Uncle Bobby insisted he learn how to throw a baseball.
It helps. A little. Make's him feel like a normal kid.
Dean is twelve years old. He He goes to school, like Dad says. But he finds himself distracted. Girls are much more interesting then the were when he was younger. His teachers know that he's smart. Very smart in fact. But he can't focus.
Sammy, Dad, hunt, food, girls, Sammy, hunt, sex, food, Sammy.
Sammy is eight years old. His brother's an idiot. Always trying to act like Dad. Makes fun of him when he says he want's to play soccer, calling him a bitch. He calls him a jerk back.
But he's his brother. He is the one that comes to his soccer games. He's the one that waits for him when he stays after school. He was the one that was in the audience when he performed in Our Town, smiling like a goof, clapping louder than all those other parents.
Dean is his brother. He's a jerk, but he is his. He is Sam's.
But he finds Dad's journal. Everything changes. Dean tells him about everything dark and scary. That monster are real. That Dad fights 'em. He's fighting them right now
Later, Sam tells his dad that he is afraid of the dark. He is handed a 45mm.
Dean is sixteen years old. If anything, he is even less interested in school that he ever thought. He is really into girls though. They get much prettier as they grow up. He sneaks out of class to to make out with Amanda Heckerling, the most popular girl at Truman High. Indiana, he thinks. This has been the third school in the past six months. Either way, two more years till he graduates. Then he can help Dad with hunts.
Maybe he can help, so Dad stops coming home battered and bruised and bleeding. Dean is usually the one that patches him up.
He is usually the one that cleans the blood out of the Impala.
Everything goes to hell in a hand basket. Amanda catches him kissing some other girl. She says that his "cool" persona is a cover. That he's lonely.
Bitch doesn't know his life. Doesn't know about all the people he's saved. He's a hero.
Sammy is twelve years old. He is unhappy. He wants to be a normal kid. Not a nomad. Not a kid who regularly carries a butterfly knife. He just wants to be normal.
He makes fast friends with Barry though. Dirk is a jerk. Sam has to placate his brother, before Dean storms off of the football bleachers to go rip the kid's lungs out. Sam can handle it on his own. And he does.
He is disappointed that they leave Truman High so quickly. He had finally felt like he belonged. But inevitably, he followed Dean, who was fuming about something, to the Impala.
Dean is twenty years old. He's got his GED. He's got the Impala. He has all the free range of shady women that he could dream of and to fuck at any number of bars that he can illegally wish to go to.
And he still has his pain in the ass brother. Who is finally catching up to him in height, goddammit.
His life if fairly simple. Help with hunts, sends Sammy to go do research, goes to a bar, picks up a girl, has sex with her while Sam is gone.
Sometimes it cuts a bit too close. He's in the middle of thrusting into a girl, Starla, he thinks, whom is quite a screamer. He hears Sam slam the front door of the house they're squatting in.
What the hell. Let Sammy hear.
Later, on a road trip with Dad to hunt down a banshee, he meets Lisa Braeden. Yoga teacher. Bendiest weekend of his life.
Sammy is sixteen years old. Apparently he will never outgrown that damn nickname. He goes to school, while Dean is off hunting with Dad, or manwhoring with strange women. It's been sixteen years, and his brother is still a jerk. Always too lazy to do research himself. Always sending Sam to the library.
But he meets Amy. She says she's not allowed to talk to boys though. But he helps her later, when she's being harassed. She's his first kiss. It's really nice.
Until he finds out she's a kitsune. Of course. He's this close to stabbing her, ending her life like any other monster he's dealt with. But he's attacked by Amy's vicious mother. Yet Amy intervenes.
And she kills her mother. Sam declines the offer to leave with her.
Dean is twenty four years old. He and Sam haven't talked for almost two years.
He hunts with Dad. He meets Cassie, falls in love. He decides to tell her about the "big family secret".
She dumps him.
Dean hunts. Does the same gritty thing over and over and over again.
Then Dad doesn't come home one day. Dean heads to California.
Sam is twenty years old. No, he's not a chubby twelve year old anymore, its Sam, not Sammy.
He's finally free. Free from hunting, free from Dad. He misses Dean sometimes.
Sam starts dating Jessica Moore. Beautiful girl, smart as hell, sarcastic humor always at the ready, his anchor in this normality. He studies for his LSAT.
Life is good.
But he still misses Dean. Come to think of it, Jessica kinda reminds him of Dean. The dirty blonde hair, the dry sense of humor.
Sam misses Dean.
Then Dean show up at his apartment that he shares with Jess.
He says he was looking for a beer.
Dean is twenty eight years old. He is currently straddling his brother's waist, shirt hiked up halfway around his torso, face red and blushing heavily. The huge hands on his waist and ribs are warm, solid.
Leaving him more aroused than he should like to be. He keeps a tight grip on Sam's muscled and somehow tanner shoulder, as he tries to find a comfortable position. He feels his brother's hips moving underneath him, trying for some friction.
Sam's hand dips lower, down Dean's back, into the waist band of his jeans.
Dean hopes the night will end the way he hopes.
Sam is twenty four years old. He is currently steading his older brother, whom is precariously perched in his lap. Dean's face is rapidly coloring a light red, blood rushing to the surface of his skin.
Sam loves that Dean's blush extends to his chest, his peaked nipples, which are always fun to play with, ("Shut up, don't touch 'em, 'm not a girl")
Sam drags his hand down Dean's back, going past his jeans, past his briefs.
Dean is gonna get fucked tonight.
:)