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On with the story...
At first it was wonderful. Sam wrote to Dean nearly every day, stories about his adventures with his stuffed animals mostly. It wasn't long before Sam realized that although his letters were getting picked up from beneath his windowsill where he left them for Dean there were no return letters for him. He vowed to rectify that immediately and sat at once at his desk, pulling out a fresh sheet of paper.
Why don't you ever write me back?
Dean smiled at the latest letter. He'd been wondering how long it would take Sam to ask him to write back, and he already knew what his response would be.
Sam was delighted to wake up the next morning to see a piece of paper left for him beneath the windowsill.
You never asked me to.
Sam laughed when he read Dean's letter. The fairy was teasing him, and instead of being a hateful thing it clearly came out of a place of affection and made Sam feel as though he and Dean really were friends, not that Dean merely put up with Sam because he felt sorry for the kid whose mom had died. As soon as he could he carefully put Dean's letter to him in an empty drawer in his desk and got out a clean piece of paper.
Dear Dean,
Please write me back.
Sam sat back in his seat and chewed thoughtfully on the end of his pen. Now he had to decide which story to tell Dean first—should it be the story of how he'd chased a spider all through his house so he could capture it and release it outdoors? Or should he instead begin with Sargent Pickles' insubordination during their last mission? He nodded to himself as he decided to begin with the turtle's noncompliance with orders. After all he knew Sargent Pickles thought of Dean almost as highly as Sam himself did and Sam had told Sargent Pickles one part of his punishment was going to be letting Dean know what he'd done. Smiling happily Sam leaned over the paper once more and began to write.
But then it came time for Sam to leave for his new school and there were going to be weeks between letters. Things with the boy's father had not become better before Sam had left and so it was difficult for Dean to put his mind at ease. But the sad truth was there was nothing else he could do for the boy save what he was already doing. Dean tried not to worry about the boy, tried instead to write his own letters to Sam to save and give to him when the lad returned home for the holiday season.
The night that Sam was due back finally arrived and Dean flew to his home as soon as his duties were completed for the day. He was surprised when Sam was not there but instead a letter was waiting for him in his usual spot beneath the windowsill.
Dear Dean,
I am not sure if you will be coming to visit me tonight or any other night. However should you indeed stop here in your travels I fear I will not be here. My father is taking me to a doctor to see about camouflaging some marks I have after…an unfortunate incident at school. We shall be staying overnight. Please do not worry, and thank you for taking the time to read this.
Your friend,
Sam
An unfortunate incident? Dean didn't like the sound of that.
Now that he knew there was no chance Sam would be arriving that night Dean reluctantly decided to return back to Neverland where he was greeted by his chief assistant Jo who looked pleased if not puzzled to see him return so soon.
"What happened?" she asked, "I had not thought to see you again until the morning?"
Dean quickly summarized the contents of the letter and didn't feel any better about the situation when Jo's reaction mirrored his own.
"You must return tomorrow night," she said, "for I too feel uneasy about the events that have transpired."
Dean's unease remained throughout the day and when he could finally break away and go to Sam he found his flight was a hurried one.
"Dean!" Sam cried out as soon as he saw the fairy appear in the night sky.
Dean barely had time to brace himself when he landed before he was hit headlong with a double armful of Sam.
"I am here," he assured him, "you are safe."
For long long minutes Sam simply trembled in Dean's arms and Dean shook his head. He could see bruising on Sam's face and what looked to be a hand-print shaped bruise on one of his arms.
"You must tell me what has happened to you," Dean implored.
"It is of no consequence," Sam insisted and Dean knew he would have to bide his time and practice patience in order to receive the story from his young friend.
"Your manner of speech and writing has changed since the summer," Dean remarked.
"I have found a great love for literature and the elocution of times before," Sam explained, "and I also discovered that taking the time to properly organize and elucidate my thoughts means my words are not hasty nor do they convey a meaning other than the one intended."
"I do not mean to imply I was making fun of the change," Dean said, "merely commenting that I noticed. Indeed, your reasoning is most sound and others would do well to follow your example in thinking before speaking."
"I am merely following your example," Sam confessed with a shy smile, "for 'tis when I first heard you speak and found your phrasing echoed in my books that I became enamored with the words."
And Dean smiled down at Sam and drew the boy close once again. It was a great compliment Sam had paid him, for the boy obviously looked up to Dean but not for the feats of daring he did but for his mind. It was a novel sensation and one Dean made sure Sam knew he appreciated.
"That I could say or do anything to help you find some new facet of yourself brings me great joy," he told him.
"Are you hungry?" Sam suddenly asked, breaking out of Dean's embrace. "I do not know how long you must travel in order to reach me here but I have prepared some refreshments in case you find yourself in need of something."
He gestured behind them and Dean could see an assortment of cheeses and fruit on a plate placed on top of Sam's desk.
"'Tis thoughtful of you to have considered this, Sam," he praised him, feeling better when he saw the lad smile at him, "and I shall not deny your hospitality unless you do not dine with me."
"I shall be only too happy to do so," Sam said and led them over to his desk where he pulled out a chair for Dean before taking his own place. For a few minutes they merely enjoyed one another's company before Dean could see Sam's expression becoming more and more serious and he knew that the boy was going to tell him what had happened.
"There is a boy at school who has decided to appoint himself my tormentor," Sam admitted quietly.
"Tell me everything, Sam."
"His name is Reginald and he's a great beast of a boy with a thick neck, thick trunk, and a thick head to go along with it."
"And what has he done to you?" Dean asked, fury barely contained.
"Essentially whatever he feels like doing which is mostly beating me up," Sam admitted.
"If I could I would take you away with me now and make it so no one ever hurts you again," Dean told him.
"I feel better knowing that truth," Sam said with a sad smile, "and indeed I would go with you in an instant. However I know that cannot come to pass and so I shall have to find a way to endure."
"I wish for you to continue to write to me, should you still desire to do so," Dean said, "and in fact I have brought my own letters to you written these past months since I saw you last."
Sam beamed at him, smile growing almost impossibly wide when he saw the packet of letters Dean produced.
"Oh Dean 'tis wonderful, truly a gift to have these from you!" he cried out, clutching the bundle to his chest, "Reading these shall surely help me withstand anything."
"I do hope they shall offer you some measure of joy," Dean said with a smile before becoming serious once more, "however I do not feel right about leaving you defenseless. Therefore I shall teach you how to properly defend yourself against an attack, both with a sword and with your bare fists. So please help me move the desk out of the way so that we may begin our lessons."
Sam's father had been upset with Sam for getting bullied, as if he had somehow magically expected Sam to know how to stop it from happening. It had not occurred to Sam that Dean would truly be able to help him with the matter either yet he could not deny the wellspring of hope which began to flow within his heart at the thought of Dean's lessons providing an answer.
He quickly hopped to his feet and helped Dean move the furniture in his room around, anxious to begin.
And that was but the first of many nights the two spent together working on Sam's ability to defend himself. It would take a long while but finally Sam would be able to hold his own and gain a reputation for being someone not to be trifled with lightly. It was something he could never thank Dean enough for.
End of chapter two