AN: For this chapter, adult versions will be referred to as Sam and Dean and child versions will be little or young Sam or Dean (except in dialogue, in which in front of the kids, adult Sam is "Stan" and adult Dean is "Deke")

Fic:

Sam was not cut out for child care.

He was actually starting to feel sorry for his dad for having to put up with them.

Sam had assumed that little Dean would be the problem. All that attitude, all the smartass comments.

But it turned out that the kid who drove Sam crazy... was himself.

Because it turned out that young Sam was a brat.

If he wasn't moping, he was whining. If he wasn't whining, he was asking questions that he knew there were no good answers for.

And always with the sullen looks. Making a face whenever he didn't get his way.

Sam hated it. Those looks filled him with ... self-loathing.

Because he had never thought of himself that way. Self-centered. Spoiled.

Seriously, how can a neglected kid growing up in motel rooms, with cereal and canned spaghetti as his only food groups, be spoiled?

But he expected to get his way. For little things and big things both.

And every time little Sam acted like a whiny brat, "Stan" would wince. In embarrassment. Because little Sammy was basically humiliating him by acting that way. And he desperately wished young Sammy would knock it off, would just grow up enough to be a little more self-aware.

But Dean - in fact, both Deans - responded readily to his sulks and complaints and pouts. Which made Sam even more resentful, he had to admit.

Because seriously? The kid was making Sam look like a needy baby. And the Deans just fell all over it, like that was the natural and proper way for Sam Winchester to act, like it would be weird to expect anything different.

And all this frustration was on top of the fact that little Sam's behavior was - purely on its own terms - incredibly annoying.

But Sam just clenched his jaw and did his best to ignore it.

Until a few afternoons later. When little Sam was just plain being unbearable.

And the Deans didn't seem surprised by it all.

But little Sam kept following around the taller version, asking "How come you won't answer questions about my dad? Do you have any more books, I'm bored? Why are all your books in Latin? How come we can't do anything fun? Why does everyone keep secrets from me? You guys are jerks, you know that? How come your brother's nicer than you? I don't have to listen to you, you can't make me, Dean said so. How come Dean's allowed to touch the guns and I'm not? Why do you need so many guns? What's the weird tattoo? Why is your hair like that? When is it going to be my turn to ride shotgun? Can I have your dessert? I'm still bored. How come there's nothing to do, if you knew you were taking care of two kids, why didn't you plan something? I'm sick of driving around, this sucks. Leave me alone. I don't like any of you. Can we go to a movie? Will you buy me that? Why aren't we in school? You guys probably didn't even go to school. Where's Dean? Dean says your parents named you Stan because they didn't like you much, is that true? How come we have do this? Why can't we stay here? Why do have to move again? Why can't I go back to school? Where's my shoe? Dean made fun of me. When are we seeing dad? Who are you on the phone with? Is that the same Bobby as Uncle Bobby? Why can't I talk to him? Where's my stuff? Why are you always rolling your eyes? Where's Dean? Dean would let me. Where's Deke? Deke would give me one. Why are we here, it's boring?

Until finally Sam snapped and he reached across the diner booth where they were trying to have a calm, peaceful lunch. He grabbed young Sam by the shoulders, got his own large face right up in the kid's face, and yelled, furiously, "Shut up! Shut up! You annoying little brat, SHUT UP!!!"

And little Sam looked up at him, bewildered and tearful and terribly confused, and though adult Sam knew he should feel guilty, all he could think was Good, it's about time you thought about something besides your own feelings.

But then there was a motion behind him. And Sam turned his large body around to see that the adult Dean had just barely stopped young Dean in time, and was holding the kid's arms as tightly as he could. Because young Dean was about to nail adult Sam in the head with the napkin dispenser.

"Take a walk, Stan!" adult Dean snapped as he struggled to get his younger self under control, "Go cool off."

But Sam wanted to stand his ground, wanted so badly to finally speak his mind in front of the kid. He said, "Forget it, Deke. That kid has been nothing but a huge pain in the -"

And then Dean gave him the look. The look.

The look that Sam had seen many, many times.

The look them kept Sam safe in countless new schools. The look that kept all but the most suicidal hunters from going after Sam when all those rumors started. The look that even a few creatures had been momentarily cowed by.

The Don't-fuck-with-Sam look. The burning hardness in the eyes and animal sneer in the lips that promised a world of slow, vicious, and mind-searing pain if anyone touched a hair on his kid brother's head.

Sam had seen it many times. But he had never seen it directed at him.

And damm if it wasn't one of the scariest fucking things he's ever seen. And for a hunter, that's saying something.

And when Sam got past the initial reaction - stunned and, rather irrationally, actually frightened -- he felt bile swell in his mouth. Like the bitter was choking him.

Because Dean was choosing the kid over him. He was protecting the kid.

And every part of his brain knew that it was idiotic to be jealous of one's younger self. To feel betrayed that Dean would want to protect the feelings of the younger self. To wonder if Dean didn't just desperately wish Sam would have stayed clueless and bratty and adoring of Dean. Totally under Dean's control.

And Sam almost laughed as he realized. Of course Dean likes the dumb needy child version of me. It's how he thinks of me anyway.

But Sam just tightened his lips and spat, "Yeah, good idea, Dean. I'll go cool off. You have fun with your boys."

And he loathed himself at that moment, because he knew he sounded whiny and needy and jealous, and he knew Dean would read exactly what he was feeling. And Dean would think Sam was being pathetic. And the worst part, Dean would be right.

But Sam didn't even look at Dean's face to see a reaction. He just strode out angrily, and when he got outside, he started running.