There was something about those winchester boys, something that pulled at Lora Margret's heartstrings and warmed her from the inside better than any cup of hot coffee could ever hope to. There was a tragedy in their past, Lora could tell-call it a mother's instinct. But as much as she wanted to bundle the both of them up in thick fluffy blankets and feed them sweets and protect them from all the sadness in the world, Lora knew they wouldn't be nearly as close if nothing bad had happened. For the world to miss out on the tangible bond they shared would have been a horrible shame.
As a mother of three, two boys and one girl, not to mention an elementary school teacher, Lora knew how most siblings behaved. Sure, siblings looked out for each other, but simply saying the WInchesters cared for one another didn't even begin to describe their relationship. Yes, describing them as "close" would be the understatement of the century.
Little Sam Winchester (not Sammy, she had learned, only his brother could call him that) was in Lora's first grade class, and he was just the sweetest little angel she had ever seen. He could get away with murder with those big Bambi eyes and sweet, soft spoken words. He would be a real charmer when he grew up, Lora could tell. Not that he ever had to use his magic powers of was quite possibly the nicest kid she had ever met.
While the rest of Lora's class ran, yelled, fought, and otherwise played, Sam sat quietly in some corner with a book. He never involved himself in arguments, sometimes even offering compromises to cool disagreements before they heated up. Occasionally he would let himself be drawn into a game or two, but he always seemed to end up calmly slipping away to wherever he left his book.
That was another strange quirk associated with Sam: his calm. No matter what situation he was put in, from a bee landing on the tip of his nose to someone stealing his pudding cup at lunchtime, he kept his head and either waited patiently for directions or came up with an easy way to solve the problem on his own. His problem solving skills were phenomenal, especially for a six year old.
Now Sam's brother...well. Dean Winchester took his cues from an entirely different book. Strike that, Dean was from a whole different library. While his little brother was all soft edges and thoughtfulness, Deam was loud, brash, and jagged. He had automatically taken his rightful place at the top of the food chain, holding nearly every student in the school in a state of constant awe. Unlike Sam, who unknowingly manipulated people with an overload of cuteness and never for his own gain, Dean was fully aware of his undeniable charm and way with words, using them to his full potential. In fact, the only thing he had going for him that he didn't use to always get his way was his intelligence.
According to his teacher, Dean was probably one of the brightest students their small school had ever seen. He would be at least at the top of his class if he actually tried at all. That was the problem, though. Dean had never done a single homework problem, never tried in class unless the subject appealed to him, and didn't plan on trying any extracurriculars. It was a well known fact that the rules just didn't apply to the great Dean Winchester, and he'd only been at this school for a week and a half.
Dean was definitely a rule-breaker, and if his looks were anything to go on, a heart-breaker, gliding through life on a wave of rebellion with a wink and his infamous smirk. He made a point to never follow an order without snide comments, idiotic questions, and slipping in and out of every loophole he could find. Dean danced through life leaving a fiery trail in his wake, never looking back and laughing madly all the way. Somehow he managed to be the new kid, the class clown, the bad boy, and the best big brother in the world all at once while making it look as easy as breathing.
"The best big brother in the world" was no hyperbole. Every day without fail,Dean would be waiting in the hall outside Lora's classroom door when class got out. Sam would shout out his brother's name happily when he escaped the confines of the classroom, and Dean would respond with and equally joyous, "Sammy!" Sam would run straight to his brother and Dean would swoop him up in his arms with surprising strength, letting Sam cling to him like they hadn't seen each other in years. In reality, it had only been a matter of hours since Dean dropped Sam off at the classroom door that morning.
Sam's somber attitude seemed to melt away when he saw his brother. Carefully thought out words and respectful tones flew out the window as he chattered aimlessly and tugged Dean around by the hand. Sam became the energetic ball of energy expected of a boy his age, Dean playing the parts of parent, older brother, and best friend with ease only gained by experience. Sam would hand his belongings to Dean, sometimes even tossing something over his shoulder with full confidence his big brother would catch it, and the first time Lora had seen it had made her understand why Sam moved like he was missing a part of himself. That's what they seemed to be, even at first glance: one soul in two bodies, a puzzle missing a piece when they weren't side by side.
Then Dean would slip of his worn, too-big leather jacket and wrap it over Sam's thin shoulders, and Sam would snuggle into it, tucking it around his nose and breathing in real deep. It made Lora ache with near-physical pain, not because of the way the tension drained out of Sam's wiry frame as he leaned against his brother or even how Dean's snarky attitude and ridiculous grin faded into something almost tender when he looked at his brother, but because it was the middle of winter. The fact that it hadn't been above 40 degrees in a month and Dean was wearing nothing on his upper body but a worn t-shirt didn't stop him from making sure his brother wasn't cold.
The ache in Lora's chest would grow even stronger as Sam protested, insisting Dean take his jacket back because Dean needed to stay warm, too. Children Sam's age shouldn't be that completely selfless. Heck, Sam shouldn't have to consider it in the first place. And fifth graders shouldn't be playing mom for their younger sibling or worrying about anything other than homework and sports practice. But nonetheless, Dean would state, "the cold can't hurt me-I'm Batman, remember?" and Sam would giggle as his big brother led him out of the school with an arm around his shoulders.