Hey guys. Just a little back story here. No need for flames because I am well aware that it sucks. As I said before this is my first multi-chap story so any ideas on where this could go is appreciated. I really do hope you enjoy this chapter. Anything you recognize is not mine. As always.

After falling asleep for a record breaking three hours, Dean was awaken by the constant buzzing of the crappy motel alarm clock. Hitting the off button quickly, as to not wake up Sam, he slipped out of bed and slumped his way to the kitchen. Which, by the way, was about four feet away from the bed.

Dean had hoped that Dad would have snuck in last night, and that there would be no need to follow through with his plan. However, fate fucking hated the Winchesters, and there was not one sleek muscle car in sight. Dean could feel his stomach drop all the way to the ninth layer of hell.

Don't get him wrong, he would do anything for Sammy, and he meant anything. He would gladly die for the little sucker that was peacefully sleeping just a couple feet away from where he was standing. It's just that he could remember so clearly what had happened the last time he gave up all of his meals for him.

It was a while ago, even Dean, as sharp as his memory was, had a hazy understanding of what had actually happened half of the time. Sammy was around the age of five, so that must of meant that Dean was nine, almost ten. It was the first time that Dad had left for more than two weeks.

Of course the extended trip was unintentional. Dad was up in the local woods hunting a wendigo. He had begged to come with, but Dad had ordered that he stay because, and he quotes, " You have no business hunting a wendigo when you can barely shoot straight." Damn, if that little jest didn't go straight to Dean's puny, nine year old heart.

What John was referring to was of course, the infamous shtriga accident that had only occured a single month before. Before that stupid day, Dean was this close to being seen as an equal in John's eyes. But now, it was like Dad couldn't even look at him without invoking a tidal wave of shame inside of Dean's heart. Dad just wouldn't trust him anymore.

This meant that he would just try harder than ever to keep his Sammy safe. If he lost Dad's trust by not protecting his ward, he would gain it back by giving everything to make sure that Sammy was okay.

So, after the two weeks were up, and supplies were running low, it wasn't even a question when Sam started to get the second helping of mac'n'cheese while dean stuck with one bowl. Or when Dean would save half of his free school lunch for Sammy to have for dinner. It was part of Dean's job. Besides, he didn't think that it was hurting anybody. He didn't need the extra bowl, and he never finished all of the stupid soggy school vegetables anyway. Besides Sam, the little freak, loved those stupid, mushy carrot coins more than any other little kid that he knew.

His food rationing lasted them a whole 'nother week without any issues. By the fourth week, Dean knew that he had to do something. Supplies were super, super low. They could last one person four days, maybe. But for two growing boys, forget about it. Adding in the food from school lunches gave them another week. And god, that made dean all panicky on the inside.

So, Dean started to skip breakfast, reassuring Sam that he had already eaten well before Sam even cracked open his eyes. By the next day, Dean was carefully packaging all of his lunch in wrapped paper napkins to take home to his little brother. Boom. Breakfast for Sammy tomorrow.

Dean soon learned how to ignore his stomach gurgling in between classes. He soon learned that water was his friend, and that it made the noises go away for an hour. And he soon learned how to sneak fruit snacks past the cranky lunch ladies at the checkout line, just eating enough to make some of the dizziness go away. The rest would go to Sammy, he made sure that Sam got all of the strawberry ones. They were his favorite.

But once again it wasn't enough. Sam was starting to feel some of the hunger. It wasn't much, but right around bedtime Dean could hear a tiny gurgle come from his brother's stomach. Dean could not, would not, let that slide.

So one bowl of spaghetti-O's per day became half a bowl, and Dean could feel himself start to wither away from the inside out.

Even though Dean did not give a flying crap about God, He found himself praying every night that his Dad would come home soon. Dean didn't think that he could handle one more day of this. He was just so damn tired. But he would deal, because Sam was still a happy ball of energy, and that is what mattered.

The next day Dean had heaved himself out of bed, slowly, painstakingly, making his way to peer out of the grimy hotel window. However, this was wasted energy because all he saw there was an empty parking space instead of a great, big, midnight car. Dean felt like crying as he got himself and his brother ready for another grueling day at school.

The school was only a mile away so Sam and Dean were what the school had classified as walkers, meaning that they could walk to school every day, and that they had no need to take the bus.

One mile. A mile was usually no problem for Dean. Usually. But today, the mere thought of walking more than a single yard had Dean's head spinning.

Ignoring the dizzy spell, Dean poured cereal for sam and started to pack his lunch. Dean was so focused on his task that he only snapped out of it when he heard the drawn out whines of his little brother.

"Deeeeeaaaaaaaannnnnn, don't forget that I have to get to school early today," Sam petulantly cried. Oh crap. Dean forgot about that. He didn't wake up early enough to leave time to get to school for sam's zero period science program. Was it Thursday already. Dean has been having trouble keeping track.

" It's okay Sammy, we will just have to run to school instead of walk, we'll get there on time." Dean knew that this was the worst freaking idea in a long line of bad ideas, but he would do anything for Sammy. This includes running to school when all he wants to do is sleep.

After watching Sam inhale his food, and regretfully watch him pour the rest of his milk down the sink, they set off at a slow jog for school.

Midway through the run Dean tripped. Not a big deal Dean reassured himself, and he kept going, ignoring the pounding in his head.

Then the dizzy spell hit. And god, it was the worst one yet. Dean didn't realize that he had fell to his knees until his eyes slowly focused on a frantic Sam holding his face.

"Dean! Dean! Are you okay? What's wrong? Are you hurt? Dean talk to me. Oh god Dean. I'm gonna call someone, okay? Can you hand me the phone? DEAN?!"

That was the last thing Dean remembered before hitting the hard concrete of the sidewalk.

When Dean had come to it was to the iconic white washed walls, and clean smell that we all know and love…... not. As Dean groggily opened his eyes, he was met with a large blurry figure. Shooting up to defend himself was only met with his vision blurring further, but he struggled to sit up until a familiar baritone filled his ears.

" Dean! What the fuck happened, report!

Dean opened his mouth to report, but he was immediately cut off by his father's now harsh tones.

" No, I'm not finished. I was just getting to a motel after the hunt when I get a call from the hospital saying that I needed to get there immediately. After a long hunt do you know what I want to do? Sleep. Do you know what I didn't get to do? You guessed it Dean! Sleep. What do you have to say for yourself?" He breathed out, His face curling in anger. His fists were clenched as if to punch something. Your could practically see the adrenaline that was pushing his emotions from anger into rage.

"Dad," Dean had managed to squeak out, hand weakly reaching for his father.

"Dad? You need to re-earn the privilege of calling me Dad, because right now, you are not my son."

"Sir," dean called out in desperation for his father to listen. To just explain to his father that Sammy was safe, that nothing else mattered.

" Do you know why they said you were here Dean? Malnutrition! The truth is that you just couldn't run a mile. Because of this they are gonna try to take you and Sam away from me! You hear that Dean?" At this point John had risen and was looming over dean to yell in his face. "Now what the hell did you do?" he growled, reaching over Dean to grasp his shoulder, expecting to feel the lean muscles that he often associated his eldest with having.

Feeling Hard ridges where there used to be smooth plaines had him rear back in shock. " what did you do Dean?" He breathed. Voice becoming weaker, and eyes softening as the anger literally seemed to drain out of him.

Finally getting to say his piece, Dean responded, " Sam's okay sir. He is okay. I made sure of it. The supplies were low, but I made sure he was okay. He's safe. Please don't be mad. Sam's okay."

John had backed away from Dean, and slowly backed up into a chair. Sitting down lethargically, he met his son's eyes. " Dean, son," he stated, " I'm really really glad that Sam is okay, but sometimes you need to be okay too." Seeing Dean's confused look he decides to clarify in terms that Dean would really take to heart. " You can't take care of Sam if you pass out. Plus, you will be going out in the field soon, and I need you in tip-top shape, alright?"

Dean nodded once, starting to see his point.

" And I promise to leave enough money from now on Dean. I swear."

And his father had followed through… mostly. At least enough that Dean never had to give up food to quite that extent anymore. Until now he guessed. Even as his father's words bounced around in his head. He knew he was making the right decision in order to keep Sam safe. He smirked slightly as he heard the familiar morning greeting.

"Deeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnn?"