Dean wasn't exactly he was supposed to do now that he had a girlfriend. He only ever really talked to her after school while Sammy played soccer and sometimes he'd walk her home since she lived on the same street as they did. He didn't really understand what the big deal was about or why Trisha felt the need to tell everyone that Dean was her boyfriend. She was still really annoying when she was around her friends, and there was only so much high pitched giggling one person can handle. He kind of like it though, having Trisha around to help him with homework he otherwise wouldn't do; someone who as always excited to see him that wasn't his little brother, it was pretty cool, not that he would actually say that out loud.

"Do you wanna come to my house for dinner?" Trisha asked on their way home one Wednesday afternoon, twirling her hair around her finger.

"My dad's not home," Dean said quickly, it was true, John was a few hundred miles away on the tail of a poltergeist. "So I gotta make sure Sam's fed and does his homework and stuff."

"I can ask my mom if Sam can come too," Trisha said chewing on her bottom lip. "I mean, if you want to. You don't have to. I just thought, you know, you might want to hang out not at school. We can watch a movie or something. We got a buncha tapes."

"I'm supposta go right home if my Dad's not there," Dean said. "Just in case something happens and he calls. But I guess one time wouldn't be too bad. I'll ask Sam."

Sam liked to walk up ahead of them running a stick along fences, grumbling that Dean was gross because he let Trisha hold his hand. He stopped and turned on his heals facing Dean after his brother called his name.

"Wanna watch movies at Trisha's?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes before shrugging. "If Dad calls and we get in trouble I'm telling him it's all your fault, cuz you had to hang out with your girlfriend."

"Whatever, Sam," Dean said. "If you don't want to watch movies, say so and we won't. I figured you might not wanna eat leftovers and actually do something besides your homework then going to bed, balls in your court. "

Sam shrugged and threw his stick across the street. "Is she going to feed us?"

Trisha nodded. "My mom's making pork chops. Wednesday is pork chop night."

"So you won't have to go home and eat cold spaghetti," Dean smirked.

"I guess I can go," Sam conceded.

Trisha's smile lit up her whole face as she squeezed Dean's hand in delight.

"My mom's gonna be so excited," she squeaked. "She's only met you that one time, but I, like, talk about you all the time and she always tells me to invite you over for dinner but I'm always afraid you'll say you can't, but now you're going to come to my house and it's going to be awesome."

Dean nodded and smiled, but inside he was freaking out. He wasn't the kind of kid that parents of other kids liked very much. He didn't have the cleanest mouth and it was never a secret where ever they lived that Dean liked the get into fights. He hadn't been in one since they'd lived in Mississippi, but he still looked like the kind of kid that was just waiting for someone to say something out of line so he could mess them up. People in town always seemed to have something to say about the Winchesters as they blew into town. Someone would see John running the boys in the early morning light, or hear his deep booming voice as they walked by the house. He was pretty sure Trisha's mom wouldn't like him. She's probably like Sam, everyone liked Sam, but Dean, it took him long enough for find someone his own age to like him enough to be his friend, now he had to impress parents. He'd been lucky enough with the guys; he didn't interact with their parents beyond saying hello. His own Dad barely liked him half the time; it wasn't going to be easy to get Mrs. Dawson to like him, even a little bit.

Trisha and Dean kneeled front of a bookshelf that held all of Trisha's VHS tapes trying to agree on one, when Dean saw a movie was not going to back down about.

"We should watch this one!" Dean grabbed the case off the shelf and handed it to Trisha. "I love this movie!"

"I don't think I've seen it," Trisha said shrugging. "It's one of my dad's movies."

"You'll love it," Dean nodded. "It's about time travel and stuff."

Trisha stared at him skeptically. "Sounds like a dumb boy movie."

"It's not," Dean said, eyes wide with excitement. "I promise. It's not, it's cool. There's a love story and everything. It's not all kissy and stuff but it's good. You'll like it."

"If this movie is stupid," Trisha said. "Then you have to watch one of my movies and not complain about it."

"You won't be disappointed, Trisha," Dean nodded. "It's the best movie of all time. I saw it in theaters with my dad when I was little."

Trisha smiled and handed it back to him. "Has Sam seen it?"

"No," Dean said, standing up quickly. "He was about two when I went to see it with my dad, so he was too little."

"You don't own it?" Trisha said skeptically.

"No," Dean shook his head and stared at the VCR. He'd never even worked one before but he tried to play it off like he knew what he was doing.

"If you love it so much why don't you own it?" Trisha asked. "Whenever we see a good movie in theaters we always buy it."

"We don't have a VCR," Dean said quietly. "Kinda seems pointless to have a buncha tapes if you don't gotta VCR."

"Why doesn't your dad just buy one?" Trisha asked.

It was really an honest question; Trisha didn't know they moved all the time. As far as she knew he'd only moved once from where they were before to here. Trisha didn't know the shoes Dean was wearing was the first pair of shoes he'd owned since he was five that didn't once belong to someone else, didn't know that Sam rarely had anything that wasn't Dean's first. But it still made him angry. He didn't like explaining his life to anyone. He didn't feel like he should have to.

"We don't need one," Dean said to the wall, not turning to her. "It's never really been a problem."

"Oh," Trisha shrugged walking over the couch and bouncing down onto it. "I thought everyone had one."

"Well, we don't," Dean said trying to hide his anger. He sat down next to her, placing his arm across the back of the couch like he figured he was supposed to do.

"Are you guys gonna be gross?" Sam asked from the recliner on the other side of the room. "Because I don't wanna see that. I don't like kissing."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean sighed, scooting slightly away from Trisha as the previews started.

"What do you do on rainy days if you don't have a VCR?" Trisha asked, snuggling into Dean's side. "That's pretty much all we do when it rains, watch movies."

"Play poker," Dean shrugged. "Or rummy when Dad's not home. Sometimes there's a movie on TV. Sam likes cartoons and reading. I have a couple comic books. Sometimes when we don't have a TV we just play in the rain, unless it's like lightning."

"Oh," Trisha sighed. "You don't think that's weird?"

"Normal for us," Dean shrugged.

Sometimes Dean forgot about what they didn't have. It never really mattered that they didn't have the fancy shoes or name brand clothes, he never really cared. He figured Sam might someday, but Dean was happy the way things were. All he really needed was Sammy and roof and everything was good. He didn't understand the want for stuff, he knew what was important.

Dean hadn't seen Back to the Future since that afternoon he saw it with his dad, but it was every bit what he remember. He kept looking sideways to see Trisha's face and make sure she laughed at the right spots and thought the right spots were girly and cute. She seemed to like it and as the credits rolled he turned to her and smiled.

"Was it okay?" Dean asked wide eyed. "Did you like it?"

"It was okay," Trisha shrugged. "Kinda weird."

"Best movie ever," Dean nodded and turned to look over at his brother. "Right, Sammy?"

"It's stupid," Sam said rolling his eyes. "That could never happen."

"You're stupid," Dean muttered. "Does… ah… does your mom need any help with dinner? I'm really good with cooking."

"You can ask her," Trisha answered. "We could probably set the table."

Dean followed Trisha into the kitchen where Mrs. Dawson was stirring a large sauce pan.

"Dean wants to help," Trisha said.

"Thank you Sweetie," Mrs. Dawson smiled, she had the same sweet smile that Trisha had. "But I'm all set here, why don't you guys just set up the table. Dinner'll be ready in about ten minutes."

Dean nodded and took silverware from Trisha as she handed it to him, and when they were done the task he slid into the recliner next to Sam.

"When we eat dinner," Dean whispered. "Eat everything in front of you, even if you don't like it. Just eat it and don't complain, alright?"

Sam looked his brother in the eye and nodded.

"And don't say that we don't have real plates at home," he warned. "And say thank you, a whole bunch. Be super polite. Understand?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded sincerely.

"Definitely don't say that I'm the only one that cooks," Dean warned.

"Dinner's on the table boys," Mrs. Dawson called. The boys jumped up and walked over to the table.

"It smells really good," Sam said pulling out a chair across from Dean. "Way better than what Dean cooks."

Dean rolled his eyes and hit his head against the back of the chair.

"Good listening, jerk face," Dean sighed.

They boys accepted what was passed around to them, barbeque pork chops, mashed potatoes, carrots, and corn. Dean kept eyeing his brother, knowing that he wasn't a big fan of carrots and apparently incapable of listening to instructions, but Sam smiled and ate what was in front of him without complaint.

"Trisha told me that your dad's outta town?" Mrs. Dawson asked over the awkwardly quiet dinner table.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "He's on a business trip. He'll be back tomorrow."

"He just leaves the two of you alone?" Mrs. Dawson asked concerned. "Trisha said you don't live with your mom."

"She went to heaven when I was baby," Sam said with a mouth full of mashed potatoes. Dean glared.

"Sorry to hear that," Mrs. Dawson frowned.

"He's never gone very long," Dean said quickly. "Almost never overnight. He just takes his job very seriously."

In reality, John had been gone for the better part of the week, and wasn't expected back for another few days. But Dean knew he could never let another adult ever know that. Dad had warned him, he'd get taken away. He'd never see his dad or Sammy ever again if anyone found out.

"What's he do?" Trisha asked. "Cuz my dad goes on business trips a lot too. He's an accountant."

"Our dad's a mechanic," Dean said, shoveling a forkful of potatoes into his mouth. "This is really good, Mrs. Dawson. Thank you."

"Yeah," Sam echoed. "You should teach Dean how to make these carrots, cuz Dean's carrots are always mushy and gross."

Dean glared and kicked at Sam under the table.

"They're just candied carrots Sweetheart," Mrs. Dawson smiled. "I can give you the recipe it's really easy. You do a lot of the cookin' at home, Dean?"

"The last time my dad actually tried to cook us lunch he almost burnt our house down," Dean said through a mouthful of food. "I was five. He's pretty okay with a microwave, though."

"Oh," Mrs. Dawson cocked her head and looked between the two boys at her dining room table. "So you've been cooking for a long time?"

"Oh, no," Dean shook his head. "I learned a lot last summer."

"So what do you boys eat?" Mrs. Dawson pried.

"Lots of pizza," Sam offered.

"And there's a pretty good diner right off the high way," Dean said quietly. "But most of the time I cook something. Unless Dad's not home, he doesn't want me to hurt myself or catch the house on fire when he's not there."

Mrs. Dawson eyed the boys curiously. "How about you boys come over here from now on if your dad's not around for dinner?"

"Thanks, ma'am but it's okay," Dean shook his head. "I don't think our dad would like that very much. We wouldn't want to cause any trouble."

"It wouldn't be any trouble," Mrs. Dawson smiled. "It's nice having extra people over."

"Mom likes cooking for crowds," Trisha nodded. "Can they come for Thanksgiving?"

"If you boys want," Mrs. Dawson agreed. "Bring your dad by, it'll be cool."

"I'll ask him," Dean nodded, looking over at Sam. He could tell from the look on Sam's face that they were thinking the same thing; dad would never agree to that kind of thing. John wasn't big on holidays, let alone barging in on other people's lives.

After dinner, Trisha and Dean cleaned up the table and worked on their homework. They had a big science test the next morning. Sam sat next to this brother working in his math workbook. Around 7:30, Dean decided it was best if they went home, just in case John called.

From the road, Dean could tell they were going to be in huge trouble the moment they walked in the door. The Impala sat in the driveway like the bad omen in every horror movie Dean had ever seen. He opened the door slowly, positioning Sammy behind him and motioning for Sam to go right into their room.

"Where the fuck have the two of you been?" John's voice boomed through the whole house.

"We… we were at Trisha's eating dinner," Dean stammered as he made his way over to the kitchen table where John stood. "Then… then… then we did our homework."

"What part of 'come straight home after school when I'm not home' is hard for you to understand?" John growled.

"We…" Dean started. "I just wanted to have dinner at my friend's house. We get bored being here all alone. It's not like we were causing trouble or nothing."

"You know what's out there, Dean," John said slamming his hand down on the table. "You know what could happen out there and you'd risk it?"

"We were three houses down the street," Dean explained. "I have my butterfly knife in my book bag, nothing bad was gonna happen to us. We ate dinner with my friend and her mom and watched a movie and did our homework."

"Drop the attitude," John glared.

"We didn't do anything wrong!" Dean cried.

"You didn't follow direct orders," John yelled. "Go in your room and pack up all your shit, we're leaving at first light."

"Because we went to have a hot meal?" Dean exclaimed. "That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair," John answered. "Don't talk back."

"But you promised!" Dean stomped his foot. "You said we'd stay til Christmas. And I got friends and stuff and Ryan's birthday party is next weekend and a big science test tomorrow. You can't just do this."

"Actually," John smirked. "I can. You know why, Dean? I'm the parent, and I make the rules. So how about you go pack up your stuff and your brother and get ready to leave in the morning."

"This friggin' sucks," Dean huffed stalking off.

"Watch your fucking mouth," John bellowed through the house. "You keep this up you're looking for a back hand across the face. I'm not putting up with your lip, boy."

Dean stomped into the room he shared with Sam and slammed the door has hard as he could.

"Pack up your stupid crap," Dean sighed.

"Why?" Sam asked. "We're not leaving til Christmas, Dad said."

"Apparently, he changed his mind," Dean said, pulling two well used duffle bags out of the closet. "Pack up; we're leaving at dawn, I guess."

"Okay," Sam shrugged taking his bag from Dean then pulling his clothes out of the top drawer dresser and throwing them on his bed to fold and pack up. Dean grabbed his stuff out of the other drawer and shoved it all into his bag. He walked around the room shoving what little he had into his bag; his alarm clock, the fire truck he kept on the dresser, the few framed photos he had of his mom. He was pissed. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. All he did was try to give Sam a nice warm meal and a bit of normal and he'd taken away the little bit of normal they'd had for the time they'd been here. He ruined everything. Again. He was starting to think that ruining things was the only thing he was good at, since he could do anything else.