There is a house in New Orleans they call the I-Don't-Own-The-Winchesters. Extra points if you know what Dean's referring to in the first paragraph.
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Chapter Four
"This is officially weird," Dean said, looking around. "I've probably got Gonzo and Rizzo stalkin' me doing some whackjob narrative." Slowly he began walking up to the doors of the school, peering in the smudged windows. There were a few people in the front entrance, obviously waiting for school to let out. Dean looked around for a clock, finding one hanging from the cutoff where a part of the second floor overlooked the first. 2:57.
"Alrighty, then," he said, depositing his hands in his pockets. "If this is another one of those twilight zone flashback moments, I've got three minutes before these kids start piling out." He raised his eyebrows at the school, looking up at the windows built into the red stone walls. He remembered this school. Never really liked it, but then again he never really liked school in general. Not like Sam, who absorbed the stuff like a sponge and still wanted more. He leaned against the wall, brushing lint off of his jacket. Somewhere in the distance he heard a song playing and focused himself on it; it sounded familiar but he couldn't quite place it.
Some movement in the corner of his eye caught Dean's attention. A young boy – clearly still elementary school age – was approaching the school, hands clenched around the straps of his book bag. He was looking around the empty schoolyard as he kicked at the gravel in the walkway, the look of knowing he didn't really belong here on his face. Dean pushed himself off of the wall, curious, and approached the child.
It was Sam, and he couldn't have been more than ten years old.
Before he could say anything, the school bell rang and little Sammy's head shot up, eyes gazing straight through Dean. Man, was that getting annoying.
"What's so important about today, huh?" He looked around as students began to pile out of the school. "Sam did this every day." He paused. "Unless…"
"Who's the kid?"
"Oh, shit."
Sammy looked up at the speaker; a boy no more than fifteen years old. He was tall, had a mischievous look in his eye and had that perpetual air of a bully. He grinned and looked over the ten-year-old. "Aren't you a little young to be trying to hang out with the big kids?" Dean looked behind him. There were three other people there with the bully, all seeming to find amusement in the young boy.
"I was just…"
"I wa! I wuh-wa!" The teen mocked, getting a laugh out of his friends. "Know what? You can just hand over your money before you go home crying to mommy."
Sam's eyes lowered at that comment and Dean simply glowered. "You son of a bitch."
"N-no," Sam said quietly.
"What's that?"
"No! I'm not gonna!"
Tue bully only looked amused. "You wanna bet?" He grabbed Sam by the front of his shirt, but was cut off when he was grabbed from behind.
"You! Hands off!"
The bully – Chuck Andrews, Dean remembered – turned around after letting go of Sam.
"You can take your stinking hands off of him," said the same voice.
"Dean Winchester," Chuck acknowledged, wearing that same defiant grin. "Why are you sticking up for the wimp here?"
"Dean!" Sam shouted in relief, running through the older Dean and to his teenaged brother.
Chuck snorted as Sam all but latched onto his older brother. "Kid brother? Cute."
Dean watched as his younger self bit back embarrassment, glaring at Chuck. "Yeah, whatever. Don't come near him again or you'll have me to answer to."
"That's terrifying, Winchester. Really." The upperclassman rolled his eyes. "What'cha gonna do about it?"
"I don't think you want to find out," the teenaged Dean replied, giving the bully a mock-pleasant nod. He took Sam by the arm and began walking away.
Chuck caught Dean by the shoulder. "Don't I?" He asked in a challenging tone, and both Deans glared.
"Trust me, dude. You don't," the older one warned pointlessly.
If Dean hadn't done this before, he wouldn't have known what happened in the time between when Chuck was vertical and when he was flat on the ground. But he smirked at the replay of the incident, feeling a sense of pride – and noticing something he hadn't that day; the look of pure awe and hero worship on Sam's face.
"C'mon, Sammy," the younger Dean said, grabbing his younger brother's arm and pulling him towards the sidewalk.
"Oh, right. I remember how this went down," Dean said, wiping a hand over his face as he saw someone approaching that his younger self did not.
"Mr. Winchester."
Both the younger Dean and Sam looked behind them, and the fourteen-year-old all but swore.
"Yes, Mr. Hefferman?"
"I believe you know very well that fighting on school grounds is against the rules." The teacher peered down at him and Sam looked between the two. "Now, I know you're relatively new, but you should at least know that."
The younger Dean glanced around. "School's out," he said. "So technically I don't have to listen to you."
Mr. Hefferman shifted in annoyance. "You're still on school property, Mr. Winchester, so technically you do." He gave Dean a look that made even the older one want to punch his face in. "Come with Mr. Andrews and I to the office. Your brother can wait in the hall."
"This reeks," the fourteen-year-old muttered under his breath as he and his brother followed the teacher and an overreacting Chuck Andrews inside.
Later on, after a suspension was issued – Dean didn't need to see that again; he might've gone incorporeal batshit on Mr. Hefferman so he sat in the hallway with Sammy – he'd followed the two to an ice cream parlour somewhere in town. He slipped into a booth before them and watched as they sat down, his younger counterpart looking like he'd just gotten jabbed in the backside with a rod. But they ordered their ice creams, Dean chocolate and Sam strawberry, and sat in silence for a few minutes.
"That was really cool what you did," Sam said quietly, trying to hide the grin that came with mentioning it by sticking his spoon in his mouth. "It's too bad that teacher didn't think so."
The younger Dean shrugged. "No big deal."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Come on, man! That was sweet. Take some pride in yourself."
Sam looked up at his brother, down at his ice cream and took a bite.
"How was school?"
Sammy grinned. "Good!" He shifted eagerly in his seat. "Today we learned about Egypt and we're starting a book about it soon. I think it's called "The Egypt Game". It's got a guy who carries around a purple octopus."
The younger Dean raised an eyebrow. "Egypt. Octopus. Because those two things have everything to do with each other." He shoved a spoonful of chocolate ice cream in his mouth. "Is dad back?"
Sammy shook his head. "Nope."
There was another long silence and Dean continued to watch the two.
"How's Angela?" Sam asked, a look of knowing in his ten-year-old eyes.
"Broke up," his brother said simply, feigning interest in the pattern on the table.
Dean recalled that particular girl in his memory. "I was too good for her," he justified.
Sam looked down. "How come?"
"'Cause we did," the teen replied.
"She realized what a freak I was," Dean explained to an unhearing Sam. "Realized what it'd do to her rep. Going out with somebody who moved around all the time, livin' mostly in motels with his dad and little brother." His jaw tightened. "I was too good for her."
Sam looked up, feeling badly for his big brother. He'd liked Angela. More than Dean's past girlfriends, anyway. "Oh… okay. Hey, um," he started, zipping his bag open to rummage through it, "could you maybe… um, would you come to this?" Meekly, he pulled out a slip of yellow paper and handed it across the table to his older brother.
The teen took it and examined it, eyebrows contracting as he read. "Parent day?"
Sam nodded, embarrassed. "Um, yeah… 'cause, y'know, dad probably wouldn't come to it, and everyone else has somebody coming. So I thought maybe…"
"Sure, dude." The teenaged Dean shot a reassuring smile at his brother across the table. "I'll be the best damn parent you ever had."
Sam smiled appreciatively, seeming to be fighting the urge to get up and hug his big brother. "Thanks, Dean. You're the best big brother ever."
"Dude, I'm your only big brother ever."
"And don't you ever forget it," the older Dean added, pointing at the ten-year-old Sam. Smirking, he stared out the window at the street for a long moment, and when he turned his head towards the two again, they were gone. The whole parlour was gone.
When he looked around he was in the middle of the woods. Alone.
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I've got the feeling there's been an 'Angela' in the series before. Oh well. It's not her.
R&R! Will update tomorrow after my English exam.