A/N: A bit of something new; age-swapping Sam and Dean per anibutterfly's prompt! I'm not sure I quite got it the way I wanted, but hopefully this is at least a little interesting to read ;)

Upside Down

"Saaaaaaaam."

He took a deep breath. Counted to ten.

"Yes, Dean."

"I did the stupid homework, I wanna go out."

He was definitely going to need some aspirin to get through tonight judging by the tone of his little brother's voice. "No, Dean. We just moved here, I haven't checked out any of your new . . . friends."

Dean rolled his eyes, flopping down on Sam's bed and shoving his elbows into Sam's side. Sam yelped, shoving him away with a scowl. "Quit it, Dean."

"It's Friday night, man. C'mon, you're an adult now, you're supposed to get cooler."

"It's cool to stay in school," Sam said absently, re-opening his book.

"I cannot believe you just said that." Dean buried his face in Sam's pillow. "I'm a sophomore now, man, can't you give me any leeway?"

Sam thought of peer pressure, hormones, and bad decisions. Not to mention the myriad of supernatural creatures out in the night. "Not going to happen."

Dean growled a little. "I'm gonna take a shower."

Sam watched him go, uncertainly flipping his book back and forth in his hands. It wasn't fair, keeping Dean cooped up. He was a kid, who deserved a normal childhood.

"Dean. I . . . you could go. But I'd have to come with."

Dean poked his head out of the bathroom, grinning widely. "Yes! You have to promise to be chill, okay?"

Sam sighed, getting up from bed and pulling on a flannel shirt. "I'll try."

Sam jotted down the numbers before dropping his pencil, staring at the page bleakly. If he was right, they would run out of money within the next week. John planned on taking on a hunt far away once they had wrapped up the one nearby, which meant no money would be coming from him.

Sam opened up his schedule. He would take on a couple extra night shifts a week. That would help. Maybe he'd skip some meals as well.

"Sam! Stop messing around in there and help."

Sam grit his teeth but didn't say anything except for, "yessir," as he went out into the cold Massachusetts autumn.

"I need these traps oiled before we go after this thing."

Sam eyed them dubiously. "You really think a Native American spirit will be slowed down by bear traps?"

"They're iron, aren't they? Should work." John tossed Sam a rag and WD-40. It was questionable logic, but Sam got to work anyway.

"Dean out of school yet? He should be helping."

"He has a social studies test tomorrow, he needs to study after he gets home." Sam didn't bother lifting his eyes, knowing that the disparaging look on his father's face would be enough to set them off into another fight.

"Like social studies will ever be important," John snorted.

Sam took a deep breath as his muscles began to coil with tension. "The hunt we're going on is based on social studies, so yeah, I'd say it is," Sam snapped. "You want him on this hunt, then save it for Saturday."

"Watch your tone, boy."

Sam didn't trust himself not to lash out. He finished oiling the trap and went inside.

Dean took one look at Sam, waiting for him in the Impala, and groaned dramatically.

"You two fight again?"

"It was nothing, don't worry about it," Sam said shortly. "How was school?"

"Got to second base with Julia," Dean smirked.

"Dean!"

"Don't be such a prude, Sammy."

Sam sighed, pulling the Impala out of the parking lot. "Did you at least finish your homework in study hall? You know you need to get ready for that test tonight."

"Yes, mooom."

"C'mon, dude. Don't slack off on this, no matter what Dad says."

"Crap, you two were fighting about me again, weren't you." Dean flopped against the seat and glared at Sam. "You've gotta stop riling him up."

Sam clenched his jaw. "It's not my fault the man has no sense of parental duty. He goes too far, and I swear I will take it to the courts and get guardianship."

He glanced over to find Dean looking shocked. "You . . . you wouldn't do that."

Sam bit his lip. "I'm not ruling it out, Dean."

Dean cursed fluidly before subsiding. "So in your grand fights over me, does it occur to either of you to ask my opinion?"

"Language," Sam muttered. He pulled up to their dilapidated rental. "And it's not like that. You're still a minor, and—"

"Whatever." Dean exited the Impala, slamming the door behind him.

"Handled that well," Sam muttered to himself before following his younger brother.

"Dean, stop going on ahead. Stay behind me."

Dean scowled at him. Sam gave a stern glare in return and won.

"Boys, hush. We don't know exactly where the spirit manifests, and we can't afford any mistakes."

Sam hefted his shotgun a little tighter to his chest, seeing Dean mimic him.

He felt a wisp of cold air and stiffened. "Hold on, I think—"

Out of nowhere, an arrow slammed into the tree by Dean's head. Sam cursed, diving for him. He managed to get Dean onto the ground, but not before an arrow hit his back.

"Sam!"

"Stay down boys, I'm going to do the ritual."

Dean squirmed underneath him. "Let me up, Sam, you're hurt."

Sam shook his head, groaning a little as Dean's movement sent a wave of pain through his back. "Not 'til it's safe," he ground out.

"Sam," Dean hissed, but stopped moving when Sam gasped. "Where'd it get you?"

"Upper back."

Dean peered over Sam's shoulder and grimaced. "That looks bad."

"It isn't too bad, I can feel it." Sam's face was flashing between hot and cold. He let his head dip down to rest on his little brother's shoulder.

"Liar," Dean said softly.

John came jogging over. "Spirit's toast. Did it get you, Dean?"

"Just Sammy."

It took a lot of effort for both Dean and Dad to get Sam upright.

"This is why you shouldn't've gotten so big," Dean grunted.

"Says the midget," Sam panted.

The trip back became a blurred event filled with pain. Every motion would make the arrow quiver a little, and Sam was relieved to finally pass out when it was time to pull it out.

Sam fumbled for his alarm clock, groaning as his upper back pulled. He managed to shut it off, and carefully levered himself out of bed. A shower was beyond him; Sam liberally applied deodorant, splashed water on his face, combed his hair, and hoped it was enough to pass.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Sam froze in the middle of pulling on his jeans one-handed. "I've gotta open the bookshop today. Go back to sleep, Dean, it's your day off."

Dean poked Sam in the side—Sam yelped and lost his grip on his pants.

"Dang it, Dean, stop goofing around. I'm going to be late as it is."

Dean stood in front of him, arms crossed. "You're hardly able to function, do you really think you can go to work?"

Sam scowled at him. "I need to."

"No. I'll tell Dad we're short money and he'll go hustle."

"And get arrested like last time? I don't think so." Sam leaned over, awkwardly pulling at his jeans.

Dean knocked his arm away, yanking Sam's pants up.

"Dean!" Sam squawked.

"You did it for me when I was a baby. I'm just returning the favor." The smirk on Dean's face was softened by fondness. "If you insist on going to work, then I'm going with you. I'll be your arms, dude."

Sam looked at him skeptically. "Really? You don't want to sleep all day, watch movies? Don't you have a date with that Julia girl?"

"She can deal." Dean began buttoning Sam's shirt. "It's my turn to be the big brother."

It might have been the heavy duty pain killers, but Sam couldn't help himself from looping his good arm around Dean's scrawny shoulders, pulling him into a one-armed hug and pressing his lips to Dean's temple.

"I have the best little brother," he declared.

"I have a giant sister," Dean blustered, wiggling out of Sam's hold. "C'mon, let's go."

Sam dragged himself into their motel room, feet aching and bad shoulder tight after his night shift at the factory. For a second, he stood in the dark, swaying. Dean would finish school next week, and Sam would continue to work at two awful minimum wage jobs until their father uprooted them again. Sam would have to scramble to get Dean settled again and hunt down some kind of job that didn't need references or work history. The unfairness of it all welled up out. Sam wanted to scream at his family, wanted to run away, wanted to give up and put a bullet in his brain.

Instead, he took off his shoes, and slid into bed next to Dean. He stared at his little brother. Dean was the only reason Sam continued to work, continued to live.

He would get grief for it in the morning, but Sam didn't care. He eased an arm around Dean, snuggling in close like they had when they were little. Dean snorted in his sleep, but didn't wake up.

Sam stared into the darkness. After a while, he realized that his cheeks were wet, but he didn't move.

It was April last day of what should have been his second semester at Stanford.

Dean was absently playing with the amulet around Sam's neck. Sam cracked his eyes open, swallowing a couple times before he was able to speak.

"Wha're you doing?"

"You got sick."

Sam frowned. "I don'—"

"Your shoulder's infected. You're still running a fever."

It was hard to focus. Sam must have a really high temperature. "Did you pay the rent? I had the money in . . . in the drawer. Drawer where we keep our keys."

"Yeah, Sam, I got it." Dean placed a cool cloth on Sam's forehead. "You relax, okay?"

Sam lifted his hand, grasping weakly at Dean's hand. "No, wait. The, um, my jobs. You call? Tony said I would lose my job after that last time Dad pulled me out for the hunt. He might—"

"Sam, you just . . ." Dean dropped his head. "You need to take care of yourself. You can't wear yourself out, you know?"

His brain felt like molasses. Sam groaned as he tried to move. "Did you finish your homework yesterday? Wait, did you skip school? Dean, you're gonna end up in detention."

"Sam!" There was a desperate note in his brother's voice. Sam stopped, looking up at him. "Sammy. You can't . . . you can't do this."

"Do what?"

"You think I don't see it?"

There was a paper in Dean's hand. Through blurry eyes, Sam saw the familiar red logo.

"No, don't—"

"You could've gone," Dean whispered. "You're miserable. All the time. It . . . it could've been your life, Sammy."

"Couldn't . . . couldn't leave you, Dean."

Dean swiped a hand across his eyes. "Sammy . . ."

"Could I get some water?"

"Yeah."

Dean's hand curled around his neck, lifting him enough to let him drink.

"You can't do this anymore, Sam."

"I can," Sam said. "And I will."

Dean gripped his hand hard enough to almost hurt. "Why? I'm not worth it."

Sam was fuzzily sinking into sleep, but he managed to turn his head so it touched Dean's hip. "You're always worth it," he murmured.

A/N: OK so I'm just gonna talk thru this because I'm so insecure about it.

I didn't really want to get into the whole demon blood thing-whether Sam or Dean would be the one dosed as a baby and all that. Instead I was trying to focus on what their relationship would be like, and how that would differ. I don't doubt for a second that Sam would be as ultra-protective as the older brother as Dean would have been. But at the same time I tried to keep their personalities the same. And the decision to go to Stanford . . . I mean, yes i 100% was seeing Sam desperately wanting to get away from hunting, but I couldn't see him leaving Dean. And so thus . . . angst.

Okay that's done. I want to thank all of you who wrote me a kind review after that last fic. Things still aren't great, but I am fighting through. Much love to all of you :)