April 1997
Dean found Sam right where Mom had said he would be, sulking on the back porch. Bones was at his feet, whining and worrying at a ragged tennis ball until Sam picked up and morosely threw it. The dog bolted after it, bounded back and started the process anew. Sam gave the ball an angst-fueled throw that bounced it off the back fence. Bones was off again, gleefully unaware of Sam's angry growl.
"Oh Boy," Dean thought, "it's something big this time. " Mom hadn't gone into details, just said that it was a "man to man" kind of thing. Last time she said that the kid's voice had been changing. Dean cringed remembering that long, angsty summer.
Sam was ignoring Bones' urgent prompts for another throw, so Dean took pity on them both, plucked the ball up and gave it a good toss before plopping down on the step next to Sam. "Hey Sam, Mom said that, Whoa nice shiner!"
Sam didn't look at him, his eyes locked on the ground in front of him.
"Who'd you piss off?" Dean prodded.
"Brad Fulner." Sam muttered after a brief silence.
"Brad Fulner!" Dean was surprised. "Sammy, he's got two years, 5 inches, and what, at least 30 pounds on you! You got a death wish or something?" He elbowed Sam playfully in the ribs, "We need to have a little family intervention?"
Sam knocked his arm away, "He was bothering Sally Patterson and..."
Dean knew that name, "and she's the one you've been trying to work up the nerve to say hello to ever since you handled the moody lighting for her Winter Concert solo. OK, I think I see what happened here. Sam, this is good. Now she knows you exist."
Sam kicked the tennis ball Bones had again returned with. "She knows I got my butt kicked," he grumbled.
"Doesn't matter, dude. You tried to rescue her. Chicks love that." He clapped Sam on the shoulder, "Trust me, you're in."
Sam was silent. He knew Dean was just trying to help, but he couldn't because Dean couldn't understand. Dean could flash a smile and make girls fall in love with him. Dean could talk his way out of any trouble he got into. Dean could win any fight he wasn't able to charm his way out of. Dean just could not understand having to be Sam, no Sammy, little Sammy Winchester who had tried and failed.
He hadn't even been trying to impress Sally. He was just doing what was right, and OK, maybe he had lost his temper, just a little bit. And sure, it would have been awesome to win the fight and walk off with Sally on his arm like a hero, but he sure as hell didn't want her pity, especially since he'd only made it worse.
Brad wasn't going to stop, not now. Now he'd be worse than ever trying to egg Sam into another fight, a fight he would lose, and Dean didn't get any of that because Dean never lost anything, not a fight, or a girl, or anything. Dean just couldn't understand what it was having to be Dean's little brother. He gave the ball another angry throw and brooded.
"Dean," he said at last, "could you..."
"Hold it right there, Sammy." he cut his brother off with a raised hand. "Much as I'd love to pound this kid for you, I wouldn't be doing you any favors. He'd be after you every time I wasn't around, and you'd lose all the points you scored with you little girlfriend today."
"So you're not going to do anything?" Sam groused.
"Course I'm going to do something." he stood and dragged a reluctant Sam up to his feet, "because I am such an awesome big brother, I'm going to teach you how to fight."