No ownership of the Winchesters whatsoever. Yes, still.

And I'd like to give a nod to my boyfriend for this chapter; I borrowed the premise and some of the dialogue from a ficlet he wrote. So applause for him. :3

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Chapter Three

"Keep running!" Came the voice of their father. "One more lap to go!"

Dean looked around him incredulously, wondering how the hell he got from the cabin to this field so suddenly. "Who the hell am I, Ebenezer Scrooge? Goddamn." He threw his head back. "Alright, ghost-of-Christmas-whatever, get your ass out here so I can pump it full of rock salt!"

After a moment, he figured it was safe to assume that there was no ghost. Dean shook his head, taking a few steps to lean on the low chain-link fence separating him from the others out on the track. He watched them run for a few minutes, and then watched Sammy go down hard.

"Sam!" He heard his younger counterpart yell, and he watched him double back to kneel next to the fallen boy on the rubber track. "Sammy."

"Get up!" John yelled, and Dean nearly glared at him. But John was just doing the job of a father who wanted his kids to be safe from what they and only a few other people knew was out there – a job he'd done well, since they were both still alive and kicking in their twenties. Dean withdrew the glare, supposing he could forgive him.

"Sammy, you gotta get up," he heard little Dean say.

"Don't wanna run 'nymore," Sam groaned, curled up in a tight ball on the track.

"Come on, Sam. Dad says just one more lap."

"I don't wanna," Sam said weakly.

"I know we've been working all day, but dad says—"

"I don't wanna, Dean!"

Little Dean turned to look at his father. "Sam says he can't run anymore."

"Yes, he can," John responded. When he walked over to kneel next to the boys, Dean hopped the fence and followed. He stood next to his father as the man looked to each of his young sons.

"Look, boys. I know this is hard, but you need to do it. If you aren't fast –"

"They'll be faster," Dean said over his father's voice. "If I had a buck for every time you said that…"

"Dad, I don't want to. I can't…" Sam buried his face in his arms.

"Sam, get up. Right now," his father ordered.

Dean watched his younger self straighten at the order, nearly doing so himself. He seemed to be forming an idea, and a smirk crept up Dean's face as he remembered just what it was.

"Sammy, if you don't run now I'm gonna win. You don't wanna let me win the race, do you?"

After a moment Sam smiled weakly, trying to push himself up.

"Never could keep you from a good challenge," Dean muttered, unable to hold back his admiring grin.

"You're not gonna win," Sam said, standing shakily. Little Dean smiled. "Go!" Sam yelled.

Dean watched as his younger self let Sammy keep the lead, jogging along behind them. Anything to keep him going, he remembered. Anything to get him to finish. They were going to finish this, and they were going to finish it together.

But then Sam cried out and fell. Dean reached out to catch him, but to no avail; he simply fell through his incorporeal hands. He cursed and merely watched Sam lay on the ground, tears beginning to roll down his baby brother's round cheeks.

"Sam, you've gotta get up," little Dean said as he ran through Dean ("Wuh—stop that!") and to Sammy's side.

"N-no, Dean, I-I can't. I can't do it."

Before they knew it, John was at their sides again. "I'll take him home. He's exhausted."

Little Dean nodded and stood up, relieved.

"After you finish this lap."

"What? But dad—"

"No buts, Dean. Finish this."

"Dad, Sam's—"

"The sooner you finish, the sooner he goes home. Go."

"Come on, kid," Dean said, feeling slightly ridiculous to talking to himself – albeit a much younger version that couldn't hear him anyway. "It'll be worth it. Just do this one last lap."

"But dad, I'm—"

"Now, Dean."

The young Dean sighed and turned around, taking a moment before he began running at a slow pace again.

Dean stood and watched, remembering that day. He remembered the pain he had in his side and shoulder when he finished and how quickly Sam fell asleep when they got home. "I have to be strong in case Sammy can't," he said, voicing his younger self's thoughts.

When he turned around, he was no longer on the red rubber of the running track but in the front yard of a familiar junior high school.

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R&R! And no, I don't mean take a three day pass to Tokyo. -bricked-