Dean knew it was his responsibility to watch out for Sammy. Always. That was his job. Even before his childhood got tossed down the garbage disposal he'd always fancied himself his baby sister's protector. Mary would say Sam was a princess and Dean always insisted that made him a knight. He refused to be called a prince. He wanted to fight dragons and go on daring adventures, not fuss over his hair and sit on his ass. A knight could protect Sammy way better than some sissy prince.

The leaves were still green and the trees full from the summer when they arrived at a ratty backwater town in the middle of nowhere. Dean couldn't be bothered to find out the name. He wouldn't remember it anyway, and the 'where' and 'when' had stopped mattering a long while back.

Comparatively, it was nice enough. There was a weird stain he couldn't discern on his bed at the motel and the air conditioner rattled at night, but the TV had cable. If he turned the volume up loud enough it drowned out the shouting from the room next door, and he'd already figured out the kid channels for Sammy. Ritzy, compared to some of the other dredges they'd been to.

They weren't there for more than a day before Dad was ditching them again.

On the first morning he had went through half the motions to shove him and Sammy out of the car and into the schoolyard on the other side of town. He'd barked little more than a "Watch out for Sammy" and a vague promise of being back sooner or later before getting back into the driver's seat and turning the corner.

Out on another hunt.

Dean was good at following orders. He'd been tight lipped, teeth grating as he bit back all the things he was dying to say, but he'd obediently steered Sammy inside.

He was capable of helping with hunts. Would be damn good at it too. John had to know that as well but he'd never say it out loud. He never said how good Dean was at anything ever, but Dean knew better. He watched other people shoot, and Bobby had told him he had a good eye. He could dismantle and rebuild every gun in the back of the impala, clean and rig every piece so it shot true every single time. He may not be able to put a name to all of them yet but he'd be damned if he didn't know how they all worked. How to use them.

All that and he was being left behind to babysit.

Dean glared at the brown frizz he could see sticking up from the other side of the couch. Sam was watching some nonsense movie that didn't even have any explosions in it. A quick glance at the clock revealed it was quarter of nine, so he shuffled out of the kitchen and snatched the remote.

There was a brief wrestle for control that he promptly won.

"Bedtime, Sammy." He ignored the replying whine, flicking the TV off.

She looked up at him, eyes narrowed and nose scrunched. "Can I use the fairy toothpaste?"

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. "Duh. I'm not going to." For some reason she always asked, even though his answer was always the same.

This seemed to be the deciding factor, and she quickly hopped off the couch, disappearing into the bathroom. Heading for one of the beds, Dean rummaged through their duffel before pulling out some pajamas that he'd outgrown ages ago. He laid them out on Sam's bed before kicking her out of the bathroom so she could change and he could brush his own teeth.

He scowled at the silly pink toothpaste laying uncapped next to the sink. The scent of fake bubblegum was still heavy in the air. He recapped it before pouring a generous amount of some spearmint crest on his own toothbrush. Bobby had given it to him when he'd gotten tired of Dean's complaining over having to use Sam's girly paste. The mint was so harsh it made his eyes water.

When he exited Sam was already nestled under the paper thin comforter of her bed. He nodded, congratulating himself on managing to get her to sleep at a reasonable time. Even if he hadn't entirely done much of anything outside of turning off the TV.

Sam found her way into his bed sometime in the night.

He woke up to her mess of brown hair tickling his face, her body curled up against his. He grumbled and checked the clock. The glowing numbers read five thirty two am. They'd have to get up for school soon. As it was, there wouldn't be much point in going back to bed.

With a low sigh, Dean crawled out of his sheets, careful not to shake the mattress. After double checking Sammy was still asleep, he went to get breakfast ready. There were crackers in the cabinets and some jelly in the fridge, but not much else.

He would have to get something else for dinner. Dad hadn't left much cash, but there was a bar near the motel and Dean knew how to play pool. He could turn the couple of twenties in his jacket pocket into a dozen. Tonight would be rough, but he'd have to bring Sam along with him. Maybe one of the barmaids or waitresses would take one look at her and feed the both of them on the house. It wouldn't be the first time someone took pity.

Sam chattered excitedly the whole walk across town about school. Dean couldn't help but marvel at it. How anyone could look forward to sitting in a dusty room listening to someone drone on about the importance of numbers was beyond him. Numbers and letters were useless against monsters.

"Trust me," He cut in, "School sucks." He watched as Sam's nose scrunched in disbelief. "You'll see." He insisted, "It's awful. You just sit around all day with a bunch of harpies."

"But Bobby said we get to read books for free. That schools have libraries and they let you take any books you want. And there'll be other kids there! I could make friends."

The hopeful lilt in her voice kept Dean's mouth shut the rest of the way to school.

They made it all the way to the main hallway before they stopped, and he glared at the elementary school map in his hands. A few seconds passed before he crumpled the paper into a tight ball, jamming it in his back pocket. "Alright, Sammy. You're somewhere over here. Bye."

He turned around to leave only to find her standing in his path. Her face was ferocious. "Dad said you have to walk me to my classroom."

"He did not."

"He said you have to look out for me. It's the same thing!"

"It is not!"

They stared each other down, a silent battle of wills. Who gave her permission to be that stubborn? He'd be proud if he weren't so irritated.

Her face relaxed after a few seconds. "You can't read the map." It wasn't a question. That smartass.

Dean angrily pulled the wadded up piece of paper from his pocket, shoving the ruined ball into her chest. "You do it yourself, if you're so smart."

She stuck out her tongue before attempting to salvage the map, using her knee to try and flatten it. She held it out and cocked her head quizzically as she studied the floor plan. Her nose wrinkled.

Dean crossed his arms smugly. "See? You can't read it either."

A few more seconds passed before Sam lifted an eyebrow at him, folding the paper back the way it was supposed to go. Calm triumph was painted across her features.

He immediately regretted giving her the map.

"It's this way." She said, pointing at a corner that lead down another hallway.

Dean huffed. "Nerd."

Sam just grinned, snatching his hand from his side with both her smaller ones and dragging him down the hall.

He left her at the door with a ruffle of her untamed mop and Sam scurried over to the teacher's desk. Sam hadn't returned the map, but he didn't care much. Damn thing wasn't even helpful. So Dean wandered around until he found the fourth grade wing and knocked on a door. It wasn't his class. The teacher in there, a tall, lanky man with glasses thick enough that they made his eyes look big like something from a cartoon, directed him the the classroom two doors over.

Dean landed himself in detention before lunch. That might be a new record but he didn't care enough to actually keep track. It wasn't his fault everybody was so boring. Sleeping was way more interesting than listening to these lunks. And more useful, too. Fourth grade was dull. It would have been better if they'd stayed at Bobby's. Than he could at least practice with some weapons or play catch, and Sam could read and beat Bobby at cards. What was she supposed to learn in kindergarten anyway? How to eat paste? School was so stupid. He couldn't wait for the day to be over.

Sam was quiet when he swung by her classroom to get her. She sat slumped over her desk, hair falling over her face in a curtain. There were little groups of other brats around the room, some standing, some sitting, all jabbering away inanely.

"Sammy!" Dean was proud of how authoritative he made his voice sound, of the way the other kids all startled and looked at him. "Time to go."

Sam slid out of her chair sluggishly and trudged over to where he was waiting by the door. Dean raised an eyebrow that was either not seen or pointedly ignored.

Half way back to the motel Dean stopped, and a few moments after Sam stopped, too. She looked at him with that look. Like she didn't understand something but it was totally his fault somehow. "What's with the mopey act? You realize how much school sucks?" He asks, half hoping the answer is yes.

Sam huffed at him, blowing a curl out of her face that retook its place a second later. "No. School's great. Mrs. Gerry says she thinks I'm 'gifted'."

"That's just another word for nerd, you know." Dean grins inwardly. Of course Teach thought she was smart. Sammy could already read. Dean had taught her the ABC's himself. Though Bobby had done most of the reading stuff. "So if you liked school why you acting like somebody just kicked your puppy?"

"People are jerks." Sam shrugged.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, they can be. Don't let it get to you. 'Sides what have those kids got that you don't?" Dean thought of Sam's brain and her little voice that Dad compared to bells sometimes, if he had the good kind of buzz going.

"Accessories. Clothes that fit. Nice hair. Houses. Moms." Sam avoided meeting his eyes.

Dean pursed his lips. His mouth and his throat felt dry. What was he supposed to say to that?

He didn't say anything. Dean turned and walked back to the convenience store they'd passed a minute ago. Sam just waited. Eventually she sat down on the curb.

She shouldn't have brought up Mom. It never ended well, and now Dean was mad at her. He'd stormed off.

A few minutes later Dean waltzed up to her little spot on the curb, hands shoved nonchalantly in his pockets, whistling.

"Sorry."

"What for?" He asked. Sam didn't answer. A moment later Dean stooped low next to her and looked her in the eyes. Sam knew better then to break the eye contact. "You don't ever be sorry for having things different than other people. So we don't have a house, who needs one? So your clothes are hand me downs? What's it matter so long as they keep you warm? 'Sides I've got great style. So other kids have shiny, expensive nonsense that we couldn't ever get? Who cares? We have our Dad and even when we don't have him we have each other. Besides, I may not be able to get you fancy jewelry but I am damn capable of getting my little sister some sparkly shit if I want to."

Dean stuck out his hand and turned his palm up to show her several glitter hair clips and ties of different colors.

"You stole those."

"Hey if you don't want 'em…" Dean stood and made a show of going to drop them in the trash can nearby.

"No!" Sam shot up and reaching for him immediately. Dean dropped the mismatched pile into her waiting palms. Looking at the pile of what was obviously just the sparkliest and most girly stuff Dean could nick, Sam beamed. "Thank you."

Dean shrugged at her words, but his grin stretched from ear to ear and Dean's smile always had been contagious, so Sam smiled wider.

"Help me put them in? Before school tomorrow?"

"Sure thing. Now come on, let's go. I'm starving." He took off walking without looking back. It was a bit early, but there were drunks all day in small towns. He could hustle them, and maybe start teach Sam how to play. Sam was right behind him, taking as long strides as she was capable of to keep pace and walk by his side. Always by his side.

…

The next day was Friday. Sammy woke up early and they braided, clipped, and tied her hair with a dozen different ridiculous accessories before walking to school. Dean couldn't fight the grin he wore the whole way there. Sammy was beaming at everyone they walked by, waving at and greeting anyone that glanced their way.

Most of the old ladies and grown ups seemed endeared by the sight of her. Dean could only figure that was a good thing. When they reached the unmemorable brick building Sam skipped ahead to her class while Dean walked to his own classroom with a bit more bounce in his step than he would have on any other given day.

The day was uneventful. None of the teachers yelled at him, so by the time school let out Dean was feeling pretty good. He swung by the little, colorful classroom that belonged to Sammy's kindergarten class but found it was empty and locked. Most of the kids had already been picked up. Dean could see through the window that the rest were playing outside under the eye of that teacher Sam had mentioned. The one that said she was a special sort of nerd.

Dean made his way out of the building, sucking in a breath of the chilled. Autumn wan't showing itself yet, but he could feel it slowly creeping in. As he walked over to the playground he scanned it once, then frowned. Sam should have been extra easy to spot with her hair as crazy as it had been this morning. He scans it again, this time for Sam herself and not for the rainbow clips adorning her hair.

She was on the swing set, swaying forward and backward. No rainbow clips, no braids. Her hair looked somehow messier than usual. Dean didn't even think that was possible. He made his way over to her quickly, his strides deliberate. He planted his feet in front of her, back rigid.

Sam stopped swinging, but refused to look up.

"Sammy. Where are your clips?" The question was so simple. Deceptively innocent, though his tone was hard. Sam didn't move.

"I took them out." Her voice was small, barely above a whisper.

"What."

"They were stupid, so I took them out." She spat, lifting her head to glare at him. Dean's heart dropped into his gut at the tears tracks streaking down her face. Her hair wasn't messy because she took the clips out. It was messy because someone else had pulled them out.

"Who was it?"

Sam looks away, and all Dean can think is that some little jackass made his sister cry. He wants to punch something, preferably someone. He clenched and unclenched his little fists.

What would Dad do? Dad wouldn't let someone get away with this. Nobody touched their family. Nobody got to make Sam feel like anything less than a princess, and Dean was supposed to be her knight.

Dean looked around once more. There, on a bench near a tree was a little girl. She looked twice Sam's own meager size, but with a round, baby's face. She had to be about the same age. Her blond hair was short, one of Sam's less ostentatious clips holding the thin locks back from her face. Another one, a sequined bow with a gawdy plastic gem in the center, was pinched between her thumb and forefinger. She was sitting on the back of the bench, a gaggle of other girls, some Dean thought he recognized from Sammy's classroom. The little horde laughed at something their ringleader said as she chucked the little bow across the yard, and Dean felt his face flush with anger.

He marched across the schoolyard to the girls, fists clenched tightly at his sides. Most of them noticed his approach and pointed and giggled. A moment later they seemed to realize he wasn't coming over to chat them up because they fell quiet. Blondie dismounted from her perch and headed up the little group as Dean reached them.

"Hi. I'm Kelly." She looked so smug, and he hated everything about her.

"Nice hair clip."

"This thing?" She touched the sparkly barrette behind her ear. "It's just some trashy dollar store thing, but I make it look pretty good, huh?"

He nodded once. He could feel Sammy watching him like a hawk from the swings. She was gonna be so mad at him for this. He pulled back, fist shaped just like Dad taught him, and slammed Blondie square in the nose.

The surprised look on her face, blood dripping from her nose, and the way the other girls that had been acting like her little army shrieked and ran were all well worth it. Even worth the way the teacher, the nice, scrawny guy from the day before grabs him and manhandles him back into the school building. He had a pretty strong grip for such a stringbean.

Sam trailed after him right up until the stringbean dumped him unceremoniously in the chairs outside the principal's office. So much for making it a full day without earning detention.

Ten minutes later the door opened and Dean was invited in.

Principal Hayes was a rotund man with red cheeks and a cloudy disposition. His suspenders and polka dot bowtie did nothing to off put the stern set to his brow or the sneer plastered on his face.

"Heya, Hayes." Dean greeted, plunking himself down in one of the two chairs facing the simple wooden desk.

Principal Hayes, characteristically, seemed unamused. He cupped his hands together and rested his elbows on his desk."I assume you know what you did to wind up here today."

"Course I do! I won the lottery." Dean leaned back, going for a relaxed look, but the chair was shockingly uncomfortable so he sat back up a moment later.

"You punched a six year old girl in the face."

Well when he put it like that it sounded pretty bad. Dean didn't really care. "She was bullying my sister."

"If that were the case then we have rules in place to deal with that sort of thing. If your sister was being mistreated she should have informed a staff member."Principal Hayes shook his head slightly, as if he were explaining something very simple. "Now just because this other girl supposedly hurt her feelings does not give you or your sister the right to attack her. Now-"

"They ripped the clips out of my sister's hair." Dean snapped.

His casual act dropped in an instant, and Dean looked suddenly much older than any child his age had a right or reason to. He leaned forward and fixed his hardest, meanest look on the red faced principal. How dare he imply that he or Sammy were lying. How dare he assume that they were the bad children here and that Blondie was somehow the victim. Dean was livid. Being intimidating had never come as easy to him before, but it did then.

Principal Hayes spluttered at the interruption, clearly thrown off by Dean's abrupt change in demeanor. "That's hardly a reason to- ! You! You're supposed to be setting a good example for Suzanna and- !"

"I am." Dean's tone was final. The conversation was over even if Mr. Hayes didn't realize it.

"I- I'm calling your parents!"

Dean snorted at that. "Go ahead and try." He got up and walked to the doorway, opened it, amd called back over his shoulder, "Let me know of you get a hold of him, yeah?" Dean closed the door behind him.

"Let's go, Sammy." Dean headed down the hall and back out into the afternoon air.

Sam slipped her hand into his despite the fear that he'd push it away. He didn't.

"Thanks, Dean."

They didn't go back to school that Monday, and their dad came to get them early Tuesday morning.

John never mentioned Friday's events, so Dean figures Hayes either didn't reach him or just didn't care. He was grateful regardless.

John did mention the single grassy green bow in Sam's hair. Dean gone out and bought it on Saturday with his hard earned pool money, and it wasn't one of the plastic convenience store ones.

He'd smiled appreciatively at it and said, "Sam really ought to act more like a girl."

Dean wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, but he found himself frowning.

AN: Anybody catch that the principal just blatantly called Sam the wrong name? Anywho, Dean is pretty fun to write, especially little Dean.

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