Because of his newly discovered learning disability, and trouble keeping up in school, Dean's teachers decided it was best if he repeated fourth grade. So Sam and Dean got to take the same bus when Sam started first grade in a small town outside of Bangor Maine. They got to live in a real house this time, with three bed rooms and working kitchen and heat. Dean was kind of excited about it; Sam didn't much care for the idea.

"But I can't see Dean," Sam told his dad as they got ready for bed on the first night. "What if something happens in the night and I need him."

"You're a big boy Sam," John said. "You can sleep in your own room, by yourself."

"I don't want to," Sam said. "I want to sleep in Dean's room."

Dean rolled his eyes. He was all for having a little bit of privacy. He was ten now, he felt like he deserved to have some alone time. He loved Sam, but seriously, the kid was a little bit clingy. Dean had gotten used to having Sammy sleeping in the same room as him, but he was growing up, it would be nice to have this own space for the first time in his life.

"You'll be fine Sam," Dean sighed. "You don't have to see me in order to sleep."

"But," Sam said looking between his dad and his brother holding his plastic cow to his chest. "I never have before. I don't think I'll like it. What if something comes for me? What if Dean doesn't hear it in time and it eats me? What if there's a monster in my closet?"

"You'll be fine Sammy," John sighed annoyed.

"I'll be down the hall. Nothing is going to eat you or nothin'," Dean smiled.

"Promise?" Sam said a look of pure terror on the boy's face.

"Yes," Dean said looking Sam in the eye. "I promise."

"Okay," Sam said taking a deep breath. "I'll try it. If I get scared can I still come to your room?"

"If you really try to sleep in your own room," Dean said patiently. "Then we'll talk about it."

Sammy nodded slowly then turned and went into his bedroom, leaving the door open, just in case.

"He'll be fine right?" Dean said as he sat next to his dad on the couch.

"Yes, Dean," John answered taking a long drink off his beer. "He'll be fine."

"I just worry about him, you know?" Dean said. "I want everything to be okay for him."

"He'll be fine," John repeated. "You take good care of him."

Dean smiled to himself and turned back to the TV, sitting with his Dad in silence. He'd done good, made his dad proud. He did his job.

Dean went to bed about an hour later, and it took probably about twenty minutes before his door creaked opened and a short skinny figure stood in the doorway light coming from the television.

"Go to bed Sam," Dean said without looking up.

"I need you," Sam responded. "Can't sleep."

"Did you even try?" Dean sighed. "Or did you just wait until you heard Dad start snoring and come in here?"

"I didn't," Sam answered. "I tried really hard, but I couldn't fall asleep."

Dean sat up and grabbed his fire helmet off the headboard. It didn't fit him anymore, but he liked to keep it close just in case.

"Come here," he directed. Sam walked over stood at the side of Dean's bed. Dean put the helmet on Sam's head. "Listen, this is a very important helmet. It keeps you safe and makes you brave. Alright? I want you to wear it and sleep in your own bed tonight, in your own room."

"I don't know," Sam said. "It's dark, and I don't like it."

"Look at me," Dean said. "I've had that helmet for a long time, and it protected me from everything. I wore it when I was scared and needed to be brave. It'll protect you too."

"You're sure?"

"Has anything bad ever happened to me?"

Sam shook his head.

"Well there you go." Dean smiled taping on the brim of the helmet. "Would I lie to you?"

"No, Dad gets made when we lie," Sam answered.

"Exactly," Dean smiled. "Try your own room tonight. If you still don't like it after you give a good honest try, I'll talk to dad. But you gotta try Sammy. You're never gonna grow if you don't try. Then you'll be that tall forever."

"Nu-huh," Sam said rolling his eyes. "You made that up."

"Ask Dad," Dean said. "If you don't sleep in your own bed in your own room, you stay a little kid forever and you never grow. Just like eating vegetables."

"That's ridiculous," Sam answered.

"Fine," Dean shrugged. "Don't blame me when you're twenty and still three feet tall, cuz I warned ya."

Sam shifted back and forth on his feet and screwed up his face a little bit.

"Okay," Sam said after a short silence. "I'll try it, but only because I'm not sure if you're lying or not and I don't want to chance it, but it's really dark in there."

"I'll talk to Dad in the morning," Dean said. "We'll see about getting a nightlight or something? Would that make it better?"

"I guess," Sam mumbled, then turned and started out of Dean's room. "Good night, Dean."

"Good boy," Dean smiled. "Good night, Sammy."

Sam waved behind him as he ran off to his own room.

Dean wondered if parents felt like this when they realized their kids were growing up. He wondered if his dad felt like his when he thought about Dean, or Sammy. Sometimes he wasn't sure if his Dad thought about Sam the way Dean did. Dean was the one that took care of him. Dean sighed to himself as he punched his pillow before laying back down. Sammy was getting to be a big kid, his own room, first grade, making real friends. It made Dean sad, but in a good way. He couldn't really explain it. He'd have to ask Uncle Bobby about it next time they were in South Dakota.

The only good thing about Dean being held back in school was that Sam and Dean had school in the same building. He got to keep an eye on the kid and walk him to and from school without having to run a mile and half every day. That ended up being a really good thing; especially on days like that one Sammy was having shortly before Halloween.

Dean came around the building from the playground to see Sammy sitting on the steps surrounded by bigger kids crying.

"Hey!" Dean yelled running over. "Leave him alone!"

"Wanna take your turn Winchester?" One of the boys, Timothy, laughed. "Get in line."

"No you stupid jerk," Dean said shoving the boy in the chest. "That's my kid brother. What the heck's your problem he's in first grade?"

"Kid was asking for it," Timothy answered, shoving Dean back.

"He's six," Dean spat. "What do you mean he was asking for it?"

"He was just sitting there, all alone, looking sad, just waiting for someone to come along and teach him a lesson."

"No, dick wad," Dean said, filling with rage. "He's waiting for me to walk him home. Pick on someone your own size you stupid jerk."

"Volunteering?" Timothy laughed. "Take a pounding for a little brat."

"No one talks about Sam like that but me, dick face," Dean growled, fist balling up at his sides.

"Dean, come on," Sam said, pulling at his brother's arm. "He's not worth it lets just go. Dad'll be really mad if you get another fight."

"Don't care Sammy," Dean said through his teeth. "No one gets to be mean to you but me."

"Dean," Sam repeated. "Let's go."

"Listen to the baby," Timothy laughed. "Cuz I will mess you up Winchester."

Dean didn't even think as he stepped forward and punched Timothy in face. Before either boy knew was happening, they were both on the ground punching and rolling. For Sam, it took too long for teachers to notice and pull them apart.

"Boys," a teacher scowled. "What is this about?"

"He made my brother cry," Dean said spitting out some dirt that got in his mouth in the scuffle. "Jerk deserved it."

"Both of you go home right now," the teacher holding Timothy back said. "Or we'll call your parents down here. If anything like this happens again you won't be so lucky. Understand?"

"Yes sir," both older boys answered neither looking away from each other.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean said, turning and grabbing Sam's arm.

"What was that about?" Dean demanded as the boys crossed the threshold to their rented house. Their dad was working downtown at a garage for now. Trying to kept the boys in one place for a little bit. He wouldn't be home for a couple hours.

"Nothing," Sam mumbled. "You didn't have to do that."

"You were crying!" Dean exclaimed. "What did he do to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Sam said tossing his book bag onto the kitchen table. "He was just being a bully. It's no big deal."

"It is a big deal, Sammy," Dean said, putting his bag down next to his brother's. "I don't like it. No one should be picking on you."

Sam shrugged and started to pull out his workbooks for homework. "Dad's gonna be really mad at you when he sees your bruises. He told you to stop fighting."

"Don't change the subject Sammy," Dean scoffed. "If that kid messes with you again I'll do more than give him a black eye."

"You don't have to defend me," Sam said in a small voice. "Maybe I wanna take care of myself."

"You shouldn't have to," Dean replied. "You're six years old. You should have to put up with that crap, especially from kids way bigger than you. It's not fair. Timothy's just a big jerk."

Sam seemed to ignore Dean as he started to work on his homework. Dean stood at the side of the table staring at his brother, waiting for acknowledgement.

"I'm gonna make some snacks," Dean sighed after several long minutes of silence. "You want anything?"

"If you're making sandwiches," Sam answered. "I won't say no."

Dean put together a couple of cold cut sandwiches down on the table between him and his brother as they worked on their homework.

"He was calling you names," Sam said, not looking up. "He said you were stupid cuz you had to take fourth grade twice. I don't know how he knowed that you did. He just started asking if I was stupid like you. And I tried to ignore him but he kept saying it and laughing. And I didn't want to say 'no' because I knows you're not stupid, but I couldn't say 'yes' because I'm not stupid. So I started crying and then you came."

Dean looked up from his history text book and looked at his little brother. Their eyes locked, Sam's with tears in the corners.

"Oh," Dean breathed. "That's still not fair, Sammy. I'm sorry."

"It's not like it's your fault," Sam said. "He's the dumb one. He probably doesn't have to move around all the time. School's hard when you have to move a lot and go to different school all the time. I was gonna tell him that, but you showed up and punched him."

"I'm sorry," Dean repeated. Dean wasn't really sure what he was apologizing for, he just knew he had to.

"You didn't do anything," Sam shrugged and went back to his homework.

Dean watched as his brother worked his word problems and ate his sandwich. He'd do anything to keep Sammy from having to live the life their dad had given them. He'd do anything to protect him. He knew that somehow this was all this fault. He should have been to do something, to fix this. If only he could fix it. He'd do anything to keep Sam from feeling the pain he felt.

When their Dad got home around six, Dean was standing on a chair stirring spaghetti on the stove.

"Hey, Dad," Dean called. "Dinner's almost ready."

John grunted and dropped down into the sofa. It had been a very long time since he worked a regular nine to five. It was showing in his daily life. Dean could tell his dad was more tired than usual. Dean put dinner on the table calling Sam in from his bed room. The family sat around the table making the small talk that made them seem like a normal family.

"What happened to your face, Dean-o?" John asked about halfway through dinner.

Dean looked across the table to Sam, fork midway to his mouth. "Nothing."

"You have a bruise on the side of your face," John said forcefully. "What happened?"

"Just some rough housing," Dean shrugged, shoving food into his mouth. "Got outta hand. Sammy got me good, right Sam?"

"Don't get your brother to lie for you," John said. "What happened? Did you get in another fight at school?"

"It wasn't his fault," Sam interrupted.

"Sam, don't," Dean said in warning.

"This big kid was being mean and made me cry," Sam said. "He was just protecting me. The other kid was way bigger than me and he was being mean and Dean was just trying to keep him from being mean to me. It was my fault."

John slammed his fist down on the table, both boys jumped, Dean let his eyes fall to the table. "God Damn it, Dean. How many times do I have to tell you not get into fights? How many?"

"I'm sorry," Dean mumbled to the table.

"Look at me," John yelled. Dean looked up slowly. "Do you not know how to listen? Are you really as stupid as your teachers' say you are?"

"No sir," Dean whispered.

"How many times have I told you to keep your hands to yourself?"

"A lot," Dean answered.

"Then what's your problem?" John continued still yelling. Sam had covered his ears with his hands, elbows on the table. "Why can't you listen? Have I not taught you better ways to deal with things? Why do you think you have to solve everything by hitting people?"

"He was picking on Sam," Dean defended. "I couldn't just let him get away with it."

"So you fucking hit the kid?" John yelled. "You get in fight? You know what you do when another kid is picking on your brother? You get a fucking teacher. You don't hit people, Dean. You don't pick a fight."

"Yes sir," Dean said quietly.

"I can't frigging believe you," John said, throwing his hands in the air. "Did you think I just wouldn't notice a bruise on your face? You think it's okay to lie to me when I ask you want happened?"

"I didn't want you to be mad," Dean mumbled. "Sir."

"Should have thought of that before you attacked another kid, Dean," John sighed. "How stupid can you be? You sit there and lie to my face and think I wouldn't know."

"I'm sorry," Dean said, holding in tears. He glanced over at Sam, hands still over his ears looking between his Dad and brother. "I won't do it again."

"How many times have you said that?" John said, slamming his hand down again. "How many times have you sat just like you're sittin' now and lied right to my face about this exact thing? What is it gonna take to get it through your head that keep doing this?"

"I'm sorry," Dean said again.

"I have a really hard time believing anything that comes out of your mouth right now, Dean," John continued to yell. "Did you get yourself suspended again?"

Dean shook his head. "No sir, it was after school so the teachers just let us go home with a warning."

"It's like you're trying to get us to move again," John said. "You can't behave a couple months. You think that maybe your brother wants to stay at the same school for his first grade year like you did? You really don't care about anything but yourself."

"I do," Dean said to the table, tears he couldn't help but hold in hitting his plate. "I care a lot."

"No you don't," John said shaking his head. "If you did you'd think before you start punching people. You don't talk with your fists you little idiot."

"I'm sorry," Dean repeated.

"You'd better be," John sighed. "Clean up dinner and go to your room. Is your fucking homework finished?"

Dean nodded as he slid out of his chair and brought his plate to the sink. He washed his dish and walked sullenly to his room and closed the door. He fell face first onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow and finally let himself cry. Maybe he was the fuck up that his dad always told him he was. Maybe he wasn't protecting Sam like he thought he was. He was just a big stupid idiot like everyone said.

Sometime later he must have cried himself to sleep because Sam woke him up.

"Are you okay?" Sam whispered.

"Go to your own room," Dean said sleepily. "Just go back to your room before Dad finds you and you get in trouble too."

"Dad's asleep in front of the TV," Sam whispered back. "He doesn't know."

"Just go back to your room Sammy."

"I wanna make sure you're okay," Sam said.

"I'm fine," Dean mumbled.

"You want me to stay with you?" Sam asked. "When I'm sad I always sleep you with you, so this time I can make you not sad."

"I'm fine Sam," Dean repeated. "Just go to your room before Dad wakes up and you get in trouble too."

"I don't care," Sam whispered. "I want to know you're okay."

"I'm fine," Dean said again. "Just go to your room."

"I wanna sleep in your bed," Sam said.

"No," Dean said, turning to look at his brother. "You can sleep in your own bed. You've been doing it for weeks. You don't need to sleep in my bed."

"But I want to," Sam whined.

Dean sighed and slid over, giving Sam enough room to climb it. He had the hardest time saying no to Sam. "Just don't kick me. You're getting way too big for this."

Sam planted his face into the crook of Dean's armpit, like always. "I love you," Sam mumbled. "I'm glad you protect me, even if Daddy doesn't like it."

"I love you too, Sammy," Dean whispered, closing his eyes and letting his breathing even out to sleep.