There was no question about it, Dean Winchester was the glue that held his family together. At 17 years old, he could cover his father's back in a hunt better than hunters twice his age. He knew more about mythology and creature lore than most professors did. He was the one that was there for his little brother more often than not.

He was also unemployed. A high school drop out with only the slightest hope to go back and get his GED. A chronic womanizer with no intention of ever settling down. A wanderer. A liar. A wanted man in over half of the united states for arson, grave desecration and assault and battery.

On a good day, he could tell himself that that was just a part of the territory when it came to being a hunter. On a good day Dean could convince himself that it was all worth it because eventually all of the hard times and stitches and dislocated fingers would lead to them tracking down their mother's killer. On a good day he could even remember the sunshine that had been Mary Winchester, he could practically feel the way her soft, golden hair fell into his face as she kissed him goodnight and remember the way that she always smelled like strawberries.

But not every day was good.

Sam and John were arguing in the kitchen, which was exactly why Dean was watching TV in the living room. The reception was piss poor, and he saw more snow and static than the Dallas game, but it was better than having to hear every single word of the fight.

Dean hated it when his Dad and brother fought. It filled him with panic that facing down the monsters never could. Couldn't they see that fighting like that wasn't doing anyone any good? Dean could cram all of his worldly possessions into one old duffle bag, his home was an antique car, and the only family he had left was determined to fight until they were all left with nothing.

The opposing team ran for a touchdown and Dean swore violently, not angry at the change in the game's score as much as he was with the way his life was turning into such a disaster.

"FINE." Sam shouted. "You go on to Nebraska, I'm staying here. I have a life here, Dad. Friends. Why can't you just let me be normal for once? It's like you want me to be some kind of a freak like you, to drop out of school and forget everything except how to load a 22."

"I want a life for you, boy, but we have a responsibility here! We have a new lead on the thing that took your mother from us, and if we sit on our hands it's going to move on. The time to think about school and girls and sports is AFTER we take care of this. It's our fight, and I'll be damned if I let it hurt someone else."

"Mom's gone!" Sam drew a few unsteady breaths after his shouted outburst, looking a little surprised at his own outburst. Dean sat up, staring at his brother open mouthed. Sam had never, never talked to their Dad like this before. "She's gone, Dad, and nothing we do is gonna bring her back. You think she'd want us—"

"That's Sam." John roared, but Sam seemed intent to keep on with his outburst. It seemed that once the levee broke, and the emotions he had been keeping bottled up inside broke free, nothing could stop them.

"Running all over the country? You think she'd want us giving up our lives for something that wasn't going to do a damned thing for her?"

"Watch it boy, you're treading on dangerous ground." John's voice was quiet, dangerous and crackling with electricity like the air before a lightning storm.

"Sam..." Dean's voice was low, trying to make peace between the two. If I was a country, Dean thought to himself I wouldn't get to be one of the cool ones. I'd be fucking Switzerland.

"And YOU." Sam turned angry eyes to Dean. "I'm sick of you always siding with him!"

"I don't, I just..."

"Just what, think it's time to move on too? It's not like you have school or anything here to tie you down. It's always easier when you quit, isn't it?"

"Sam, don't be a dick, I..."

"You ALWAYS side with him, Dean. You ALWAYS follow his orders like a good little soldier, do you even think for yourself anymore, is that why you dropped out?"

"Goddamn it, Sam, that's enough!"

John's roar broke off the argument, and Sam looked from one to the other, breathing hard as he tried to think about what to do. He was so angry he could barely see straight, let alone think, so he did the one thing that seemed to make any sense and turned around, going out the back door.

"Sammy..." Dean called after him, not sure of what to say.

"It's SAM." Sam called back, anger clear.

Dean sighed. His head was aching, his pride stung and now he had to go after Sam before he did something stupid. Sometimes the day just got better and better. His birthday was coming up in 2 days, and he'd be 18, was it really too much to ask that his brother and father got along until then?

"I'll go after him, Dad." Dean said automatically, pausing just long enough to reach for his jacket. "Don't worry, I'll bring him home safely."

The longer Sam walked, the more he felt stupid for blowing up like that. It was true, he did like this town, but he had known from the start that they weren't staying here more than a few weeks. There was a pretty blonde in this town that he was pretty sure had a thing for him, but she was no more or less prettier than girls in every other town along the way. Soccer tryouts would be in a few weeks here, but there would no doubt be soccer try outs in the next town. There were a few good teachers here, particularly a history teacher that talked about politics and law in a way that made it sound fascinating, but he had found a good teacher in nearly every little town they were marooned in for a few weeks or months. The only thing that had changed was him.

He was terrified. It was in the last town that Dean had dropped out. A hunt went wrong and John cracked a couple of ribs and needed someone to do more of his legwork when it came to hunts. Though John had been against Dean dropping out, Dean just couldn't manage full time school and full time hunting, and as he put it, a diploma was just a piece of paper. Hunting was an education in and of itself. Sam knew that Dean was embarrassed about dropping out, and that he had only done what he had to. He knew that Dean wanted to graduate, to get a good job, to have a home the same way that anyone would.

Sam had crossed a line by bringing Dean into the argument, and the longer he walked, the more he felt like a jackass. Dean was always full of smartass one liners and pranks, but never had he done or said anything to intentionally hurt his little brother. He stuck up for him to John, he stood up for him when bullies in town got a little too violent, and he was always there for Sam.

When Sam was sick, Dean was the one who made sure that he had chicken noodle soup. When Sam needed to study for a test, Dean was the one grilling him over the study guide. When Sam was tired, Dean was the one who did his half of the chores and prep work for hunts and covered for him. When their funds ran low as they waited on John to return from a hunt, Sam knew that Dean always gave him more than the lion's share of their food. Dean made sure that his shoes were replaced first, Dean made sure that he had clothes to wear, that he had a lunch to take to school and a ride there and back. Dean was his brother, but he was also a hell of a lot like a father.

Yes, the longer Sam walked, the more he started to feel like the world's worst brother. He looked down at his watch. Three hours had passed since he stormed out of the house, and he was only a few blocks away. Knowing that his dad and brother would probably only get more pissed and worried as time went on, Sam turned toward the house.

He shut the door quietly, expecting to see both Dean and John at the kitchen table waiting for him, but only John was there, looking like a nervous wreck.

"Where's your brother?" he asked, the words frightened and free of anger.

"What? He was here..."

"He went after you, Sam, and I'm afraid something got him."

Just like that, Sam's whole world fell apart.

Dean shivered, pushing his hands further into his pockets. Searching for Sam would have been easier in a car, but the Impala had a distinctive rumble to its engine, and Dean was worried that Sam might hide from it. He could see where the kid wouldn't want to talk, but their motel was cheap and not in the best neighborhood. He could pout just as well at home as he could walking around like some emo kid.

He spotted a convenience store that promised to have a pay phone inside and trudged warily inside. The clerk behind the counter looked nervous, and Dean assumed she had probably seen the handgun tucked into a pocket of his jacket. Damn, he was going to have to be more careful next time. He flashed her a smile that he hoped she would take as nonthreatening and walked toward the back, where the phone was.

He deposited a couple of quarters, paying no attention to anything in the front of the store. Normally he would have been watching everything, but worry for Sammy was overriding everything.

"Yeah?"

Dean sighed when he heard John's voice. Still pissed, but not quite pissed enough to indicate that Sam was back. "Dad, I looked all over. I can't find him. I think I'm going to circle back along the back alleys and see if..."

"Alright, pretty boy, time's up."

The phone fell from his hands. Dean spun around quickly, seeing a man in a ski mask with a gun pointed at his chest. Shit...

"Give me your wallet. NOW."

Dean didn't hesitate. He knew if he reached for the gun the guy would shoot, no questions asked, so he reached for the wallet slowly and reached out to hand it to the gunman. It wasn't a great loss anyway, just a few fake credit cards and a couple of wrinkled ones.

"DEAN."

Dean could hear his father screaming through the phone terror clear in his voice.

"Easy..." Dean said, extending his hand to bring the wallet closer to the gunman. "you don't want to shoot anyone, pal. Just take the money and split, ok?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tall, towheaded boy walking toward the convenience store.

Sammy, no...

The gunman looked nervous, like he could fire at any second as he reached for the wallet, and Dean knew that he had to take him down before his brother came into the store. He couldn't risk Sam getting shot, couldn't risk losing him to a freak wrong place at the wrong time encounter like this.

The gunman took the wallet, and turned, intent on leaving the store just like Dean had told him to. The kid kept getting closer and closer, and though he was still too far away for Dean to see his face clearly through the smudged glass, he knew he had to do something. If the thief went outside, still armed, and saw Sam approaching, he'd assume the worst, and no doubt fire.

Dean didn't think he charged. He tackled the gunman and for several long minutes the wrestled for control of the gun. However, the thief had about five years and a good fifty pounds on Dean, and before Dean knew it he saw the gun turning toward him.

The gun exploded, and for a full minute all Dean saw was pain. The thief scrambled to his feet and fled the store.

"Mama!" Dean shifted his gaze from the ceiling to the door. The towheaded kid he saw approaching the convenience store was there, hugging the cashier for dear life.

Not Sam. Thank God not Sam.

"I saw that guy tackle the other guy, and I was afraid to come in, and then I saw the bad guy in the ski mask run away and I was so worried you were hurt..."

It was good, Dean decided, that he gave the kid some kind of head's up. Maybe karma would be kind enough to do the same for his brother, wherever he was, and steer him in the right direction.

Sam...What I wouldn't give to see your weird looking face right now little brother. I never thought I'd be kicking the bucket in a convenience store on tiles that smell like a urinal all alone

"DE-!" He could hear his father still shouting his name on the other line, and it comforted him right up until his money ran out and it cut off. He contemplated trying to crawl over to the phone and say something to John, but he didn't have the strength. In fact, right now it was hard enough just to breathe.

"Stay here, sweetie. Use the phone under the register to call 911." he could see the cashier kissing the top of her son's head. "I'm going to go check on that man."

The woman was little older than a girl but she bravely walked over to Dean and knelt down next to him. "Help is on the way, sir. Is there someone I can call for you?" Tears came to her eyes, but she tried to blink them back. "I owe you so much, if that man had gone out there and shot my Thomas..."

He opened his mouth, but his tongue felt thick and sluggish. He coughed, and the moment he tasted the hot, metallic substance he brought up he knew he was in trouble. "Sammy. Tell Sammy I..." He realized she had no way of contacting Sam, or his father. He was too weak to tell her the phone number to the motel, and his wallet was gone with the mugger. Well Dean wasn't a quitter, he was going to try. "5...72-8..." His eyelashes fluttered, and though Dean tried to hold on to give her the final three digits, it was no use. His head fell slack to the side as the young woman who stood in the middle of his pool of blood began to tremble. She was nearly certain she was seeing her first dead body and she was terrified.