He had called Pastor Jim that morning. He didn't know what else to do. Dad had said that he would only be gone for a few days. That he would be fine, don't worry, take care of Sammy, and to remember the call signal. He remembered all of that. John called three days ago. Dean hadn't heard from him since. He went to school, pretended like everything was okay. Made sure Sammy had lunch money even if that meant he had to skip school one day and to the mall and fish around in the wishing pond, that Dean was fairly certain didn't grant anyone's wishes, and took as many quarters as he could before security chased him out. But by golly Sammy had lunch money, and Sammy would be fed. But the quarters ran out and Thanksgiving break came. Their Dad had promised that he would be home by Thanksgiving. Promised.

"Where's dad?" Sam asked as Dean fixed a can of Spaghettios.

"Dad is working."

"What does Daddy do again?" Sam asked as he played with his spoon.

"He's a salesman."

"What does he sell?"

"I don't' know stuff." Dean said as he prayed that the Spaghettios would hurry up and get warm.

"When he gets back are we gonna move again?" he asked with a furrowed brow. The kid was only six, and shouldn't care if they lived on the moon, but his little brother hated packing up his meager belongings and getting back into the back of the Impala and driving to who knew where and finding another ratty motel or apartment to live in. The kid hated switching schools.

"I don't know probably."

"Why do we move around so much?"

"Because the teachers at school ask dad to get rid of you because you ask too many questions." There that seemed to shut Sam up. He turned off the stove and turned around. Sammy had tears falling from his hazel eyes.

"Really?" he asked. "They get tired of me? They tell you that Dean?" He asked and sniffed. Instantaneous guilt blossomed in Dean's stomach. He set the bowl down in front of his brother.

"No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." He said and gave his brother a one armed hug.

"Then why'd you say it Dean?"

"Because I wanted you to stop asking questions."

"But I wasn't being mean?"

"No, you weren't. I just don't know the answers."

"But you know everything Dean. You're my big brother."

"I know I am Sammy. But there are things that even I don't know."

"Aren't you hungry?" Sam asked noting that Dean didn't give himself any of the canned delight.

"No. I'm not hungry. I ate something while you took a nap."

"I don't take naps no more."

"Any more." Dean said with a sigh. "While you were in the other room watching television then." Dean said with a roll of his eyes. In all actuality, Dean was starving. He hadn't eaten since lunch at school the day before. There hadn't been enough of anything in the motel room for him to eat. There had been enough cereal for two bowls, one for Sammy today, and one for Sammy tomorrow, and there was the one can of Spaghettios that he had just given Sammy, and that would have to last tomorrow as well. Pastor Jim said he couldn't get them until tomorrow evening. Two days without anything to eat wasn't a big deal. He shrugged. No big deal at all. As long as Sammy had food in his belly that was fine.

Sam helped him clean up dinner and they both decided that they would go to bed because Pastor Jim would come to collect them and they would need to be ready. Dean had just gotten comfortable in his bed when he felt eyes starring at him. He turned quickly and found Sammy starring at him.

"Can I sleep with you? I'm scared."

"Sure Sammy get in." Sam crawled into bed with his big brother and snuggled down. Dean never knew that Sammy had heard his stomach growl all night, and he never knew that Sammy really didn't have a stomach ach the following morning, that his little brother just wanted to make sure his brother had something in his belly, because as long as Dean was fed and happy that was all that mattered.