I do not own Supernatural.
Dean wrapped an arm around his little brother. He wanted to continue the comforting murmur from earlier, but they were sitting in the back of the Impala and Dad wouldn't approve. The last thing Sammy needed was another lecture to 'man up'.
The kid had just been forced to leave the longest-lasting friendship he'd ever had. He was only six. God. Dean squeezed Sammy's shoulder again. Next motel they got to, Dean would set up a movie night, popcorn and everything.
Dean woke abruptly, knowing something was wrong. He stayed quiet until the noise came again.
Sammy, just a few feet away, whimpering.
With a sigh, Dean forced himself out of his nice, warm blankets to sit on Sam's bed. He'd told Dad to let Sammy have that stupid stuffed dog for the night. Ever since he'd learned about the monsters Dad hunted, the littlest things could set off nightmares.
Dean ran his hand through Sam's hair - getting too long, again, he was going to need to find the barber in this town - and Sammy was soon snoring peacefully.
According to the bedside clock there were a few hours left until morning. Worth the crick in his neck to get some more sleep, as long as he woke up before Sammy. Couldn't embarrass the kid, or he'd be a grump all day.
Yet again, Dean waved off Luke's offer of hanging out. What excuse hadn't he used yet? Oh, right. "Sorry, Dad's letting me work on the Impala tonight." He smiled wide, the picture of happiness. Never mind that he'd been allowed to help with the Impala for years. He was still young enough for it to be a convincing 'big deal'.
After a short round of congratulations and farewell back slapping, Dean split off from the other teenagers and walked to the local middle school.
The high from spending all day with his friends - even at school - had faded by the time Sam got let out an hour later. And as much as Dean would have loved to interrogate Sam about his day and talk and mess around, Sammy was all chatted out. The kid was even more sociable than Dean, but also like their Dad, who needed a few solid hours with books and be quiet, Dean before being personable again.
So Dean just slung an arm around Sammy and decided to give Hannah that call, after all. Sam could have his silence and read, and Dean could go out on a date. It would have to do.
"Just leave me alone! God. I'm not twelve anymore, Dean!"
Definitely not twelve. Fourteen and growing like a weed. "I'm trying to look out for you."
Sam whipped his bag off the motel table with enough force to make Dean wince. Those seams really could not handle that kind of stress. His little brother took a deep breath before saying, quiet and deadly, "You're not Dad."
"Fine. Just. Call me when you're on your way back, okay? And if anything happens. I'll come pick you up."
Sam rolled his eyes but conceded.
Just before the door closed, Dean called, "Bitch."
"Jerk!"
A car door shut outside. Sam's new buddy, Marcus, not that Dean would admit to remembering the kid's name. Marcus and his family were taking Sam into the city for the day. Dean wasn't wholly comfortable entrusting Sam to strangers for eight hours outside of school, but Sam deserved this. Dean just hoped it wasn't going to hurt too much when Sam realized he was getting a front row seat to the sort of family life they didn't have.
And in the meantime, Dean could go grocery shopping. They had four or five days before Dad got back, and the amount he had left them was barely enough for two teenage boys with bottomless stomachs. With luck, Marcus's family would insist on paying for Sammy's food. That would be thirty dollars back in the budget.
Why was restaurant food so expensive, anyway?
Dean shifted in his oversized jacket. God, he looked so out of place. All these middle-aged parents in nice clothes, chatting with each other in the theatre seats. They'd all probably known each other since their kids were in diapers.
What did people do at a nerd competition? Was he meant to cheer when Sammy got a problem right? Dean didn't even know how this thing was meant to work. Should have listened better when Sam had been chattering about it.
The aisles lights went out, leaving only the spotlights on stage. A - surprisingly hot - woman walked up to the microphone and introduced the two teams, then started off the competition.
Dean was pleasantly surprised. Sam's description had made it sound like a nerd contest - causing Dean's zone out - but this was just trivia, done up all official. Dean had to resist whispering the facts he knew. He did not resist smirking when Sam creamed the competition, showing off his hunter reflexes to get to his buzzer first and answering the prompts correctly.
Afterward, Dean hung back from lobby to let Sam bask in the adults' praise without his older brother cramping what little style the kid had.
When Sam finally caught sight of Dean, however, he lit up and practically bounced over. "Did you see that? We were so awesome! I hope we're still here for the next Bowl. Do you think we will be? It's only a month away. They're totally going to let me stay on the first string team, too."
"Slow down. You did great, Sammy." He ruffled Sam's hair, eliciting a whack and complaints. "I'm proud of you, nerd."
Sam grinned. "Can we go get ice cream to celebrate? Everyone's going."
Dean did a quick mental shuffle. If the store ran that sale he'd heard about, that would net them a few bucks. It'd have to be enough. Dad had already given them more than usual as guilt-money. "Of course. As long as you choose the right flavor, for once. None of that strawberry junk."
"Hey!"
There was a hole in Dean's chest. He stared up at the ceiling, barely visible in the dark room. The deep, loud snores of his father were resonating from the bed next to him. The bed Sam would have had, up until last week.
Sam whose stupid red shirt he had found in his bag this morning. Sam who was halfway across the country, setting up shop at Stanford. Sam who had slammed the door on the way out.
Dean swallowed and tried to stop the tears leaking down his cheeks.