One of Sam's earlier memories was of when he was around four or so. He didn't remember where it was, or when exactly. Dad and Dean and him- they were going out somewhere, he forgot where, the three of them. They had reached a crosswalk. Dean was about 8 at the time, and had stuck out a hand to him once the light turned. Dean had smiled down at him, his green eyes sparkling in the sunlight.
"Ready to cross, Sammy?" he had asked. Sam had slipped a hand still chubby with baby fat in Dean's, grinned, nodded. It was one of the few happy memories he had.
Sam was 8 when he first realized that something was wrong with him. It should've been apparent, right from the start. No other kids were introduced at the front of the class every couple months. Nobody else moved around as much as he did, and the other kids seemed to know each other. Everyone else had a mom and dad who hugged them and loved them. Everyone else complained about their siblings, how irritating they were. They had pets. When he had first let slip that his father had hit Dean, the teacher gave him a funny look. She had later talked to him about what 'his home life' was like, about how quiet he was. He fibbed and said that his brother and father were part of a martial arts group- it was an accident. He never talked much about his life again. After spending time at other people's houses, he had learned, too. His father now was a car mechanic, and hunting was a side hobby- and even then, it was only deer or something. This was their first move, and the first time switching schools.
After a while, more differences started to show up. He didn't learn the newest trends, and people started to get meaner. For some reason, people enjoy hurting others for reasons as petty as bringing a sack lunch rather than purchasing a hot one. Uncool meant desertion- unless he wanted to hang out with the other kids hanging out on the fringe of the crowd, whom were clearly not very cool, even from Sam's limited perspective. Sam missed out on a lot of things. Inside jokes that secured friendships for some would bar the way for Sam. He barely had any friends that lasted, no dates, no nothing, not counting his family. But they didn't count.
His brother didn't complain about it, not once. Dean was strong. He was handsome, too, and made all the girls swoon. The teachers hated him, but that was all part of the routine. He would saunter into school and pick up a cheerleader. They would have a fling, go on dates. As quickly as he showed up, he would leave the girls. It would start again.
Sam didn't feel bad about this. Whatever made Dean happy. And he wasn't stupid, either. He would do the most Dean would let him- which was basically to keep out of trouble. It wasn't bad, this life. It did suck to not be able to make friends (having attachments only puts people in danger) or a regular life (you mean you want people to die? Sam, lives are depending on us, here), but it could be worse. It definitely could be worse.