"Dean!" Sam yelled the moment he stepped into the trailer the Tuesday after Sam's birthday.

"Sam?" Dean answered, one hand on the door knob, the other searching the waist band of his pants for the gun he kept there.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Come here. I gotta ask you something."

Dean stepped cautiously into the trailer, kicking the door shut with his foot, gun raised, his back pressed against the wall. Sam was sitting at the kitchen table with one eyebrow raised and a facial expression that read "you're joking right?" without saying a word.

"Seriously?" Sam sighed.

"You don't just yell when someone enters a room," Dean explained, lowering the gun. "I thought you were hurt or something."

"You're a freak," Sam replied. "Like a giant weirdo freak."

"Whatever," Dean sighed shaking his head. "What do you want?"

"You know what I said Tiffany was in my Bio class?" Sam asked, eyes wide, squirming a little in his chair.

"The hot chick from the bowling alley?" Dean nodded, placing his gun on the kitchen counter.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "She my lab partner in for this new lab we're doing, and we were talkin' and stuff and she's reading To Kill A Mockingbird in her English class, and that she hates it, but I told her that I've read it, like, five times. So she asked me if I would help her write her paper, and I said yeah sure. And she gave me her phone number and told me to call her if she could come over, and I was hoping that you'd say it was okay and she could like, come over for dinner or something and we could work on that lab report and her paper maybe?"

Dean stared blankly at Sam for a moment. "You gotta remember to breathe when you talk."

"Shut up," Sam grumbled. "Can she come over though?"

"Yeah sure," Dean shrugged. "Dad's not due home til, like, next Friday I think. We'll order pizza or something. You two can have your study date or whatever. I gotta pick her up?"

"No," Sam shook her head. "She has a car, but she lives, like, across the street from the bowling alley. That's why she didn't have it the other day."

"Alright," Dean nodded. "Go call her."

Sam jumped up and basically ran to the phone in the kitchen, dialing a number written in his biology notebook. Dean walked over to the sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table, grinning to himself.

"Hey, umm," Sam said leaning close to Dean after getting off the phone. "Can you, like, take a shower or something? You're covered in auto shop grease and you smell."

"You just don't want me to embarrass me in front of your girlfriend," Dean smirked tapping Sam on the face.

"Not girlfriend," Sam clarified. "Lab partner."

"I thought you totally ditched this girl at that party?" Dean said standing up and peeling his t-shirt off, tossing it at Sam.

"She said that it was sweet that I didn't take advantage of her being so drunk," Sam shrugged.

"Well," Dean said heading off toward the bathroom. "You're a good kid, you make good decisions."

"I gotta clean this place," Sam sighed before Dean closed the door to take a shower. "I gotta hide this stupid weaponry."

When Dean out of the shower, Sam was shoving a cross bow under the sofa as someone knocked on the door.

"Get rid of this," Sam said shoving the bow into Dean's chest. "And put some pants on, Dean, seriously."

"Yes, sir," Dean mock saluted.

Sam rolled his eyes as he walked toward the door. "Don't fuckin' embarrass me."

"I would never," Dean laughed as he walked into their bedroom.

He half listened as Sam let Tiffany in and showed her around their tiny home. He searched his duffle bag for a clean pair of pants and found a shirt that didn't smell too bad before coming out into the main room.

"So, Dean said he'd get us pizza or something," Sam was explaining.

"Okay," Tiffany nodded. "That sounds awesome."

Dean couldn't help but smile, Sam looked so nervous and all they were doing was homework. He was glad he had the confidence to talk to girls, but watching Sam was most adorable thing he'd ever seen.

"So… um… you wanna work on this lap report?" Sam asked brushing his hair from his face. He pulled out one of the kitchen chairs for her before taking his own. Dean chuckled to himself and flopped down in front of the TV.

"Let me know when you want that pizza," he called over his shoulder. "I'll go get it."

"Yeah, cool, thanks," Sam said quickly before going to back to talking over the biology lab with Tiffany.

Dean went out to grab the pizza about an hour later, he lingered at that pizza joint, giving Sammy some alone time with his girl. He picked up a six pack of coke at a convenient store before heading back to the trailer park, with his hands full, he couldn't open the door, so he knocked twice with his elbow, but no one came to the door.

"Open the door, Sam," Dean yelled. "Or I will throw the pizza off the railing before I open this and you won't have dinner."

Dean placed the soda on the ground and shoved the door open. He tossed the pizza boxes on the counter and turned back to grab the drinks off the porch. He slammed the door shut and scanned the room for Sam. His and Tiffany's books were still on the table, like they were when he left, but his brother was nowhere to be seen.

"Sam!" Dean called. "Pizza's here."

"Yeah cool," Sam's voice called from somewhere. "In a minute."

Dean looked around the trailer. He was expecting to catch Sam and Tiffany on the sofa, but they weren't there. He noticed the light was on in the bedroom, so he walked toward it. As he got closer he heard whispering, he knew he probably shouldn't interrupt, but it wasn't like they were having sex, so he turned the door knob and stuck his head inside. Sam and Tiffany were exploring each other's mouths experimentally. Dean didn't know much about this Biology project those two were supposedly working on, but he doubted this had anything to do with it.

"Dinner," he announced, wide grin on his face as watched Tiffany and Sam separated like they'd been burned. Sam's hand lingered on her waist as he glared across the room.

"I heard you," Sam hissed. "I said I'd be right there."

"Didn't hear you," Dean shrugged.

"Go away," Sam demanded.

"Pizzas getting cold," Dean smirked.

Sam glared until Dean laughed and backed out of the room.

Dean couldn't help chuckling to himself as he sat down on the couch with a piece of pizza and turned on the news. Sam stormed out of his room with Tiffany right behind him a few minutes later.

"I frickin' hate you," Sam whispered into Dean's ear as he walked by. "You're a frickin' jerk."

Dean turned and smirked, shrugging a little before turning back to the TV. Sam had walked in on worse, he'd get over it.

He half listened to Sam apologize a hundred times while he and Tiffany ate their dinner and worked on their lab report. Dean knew he should feel a little bad about breaking up their little make out session, but it was his duty as the older one to sufficiently embarrass his brother at every possible moment.

When Tiffany left, Sam walked over and smacked Dean in the back of the head.

"I told you not to embarrass me!"

"I didn't know you were necking with your girl," Dean replied. "Shoulda answered me when I called out."

"I did!" Sam yelled. "Don't tell me you didn't hear me. You were just trying to embarrass me in front of her."

"No I wasn't," Dean sighed. "I'm sorry, alright. I didn't mean nothin' by it, alright. I was just messing around. You guys gonna go out again?"

"I guess," Sam shrugged. "I told her you were just a giant dick, and she seemed to understand. I think we're going to the skating rink this weekend."

Dean shook his head and turned back to the television. "Good for you. That's a little cheesy for me but whatever makes you happy. Just don't shut the door when you got girls in the room from now on. You know Dad doesn't like it."

"Dad's not here," Sam reminded him.

"If I can't do it, you can't do it," Dean replied. "I'm in charge when Dad's not around, remember that, cuz I don't gotta let you hang out with your friends."

"I can do whatever I want," Sam huffed. "You're not the boss of me, Dean. I'm an adult."

"No you're not," Dean yelled, turning around. "You're still a kid, and I'm in charge. So don't be a bitch or I'll ground you."

"You can't ground me," Sam spat. "I didn't do anything."

"If you talked to Dad like that…" Dean started.

"I'm not talking to Dad," Sam interrupted. "I'm talking to my brother who isn't supposed to be a giant douche bag. You know I like her. You don't gotta be a freak and ruin it for me just because every girl you go with ends up being some weird slutty basket case. Tiffany's a nice girl and you're just totally jealous."

"Yeah," Dean rolled his eyes. "Super jealous of the jail bait my kid brother's chasing."

Sam started huffing and growing angrier as he stood behind Dean.

"You're just jealous cuz you can't even finish school," Sam yelled. "That you don't have a future and you'll never be anything except what Dad wants you to be. You know that I can do whatever I want because I'm smarter than you. You can't let me be happy because you don't know how to be happy. You're just going to be a giant stupid, loser, asshole your whole life that can't think without asking Dad if it's okay to think that thought."

Dean took a deep breath and turned to look at his brother. "I get that you're pissed because I broke up your make out party, so I'm gonna let that pass, but if you like the way your face looks, don't ever say anything like that to me again."

"You're an asshole!" Sam yelled storming off to their room and slamming the door.

Dean grabbed a blanket off his Dad's bed and put it over himself on the couch for the night. He knew Sam would get over it, apologize for being a brat in the morning when he realized Dean didn't mean anything by he did. Dean would have felt horrible if he'd scared the girl off, but he hadn't. It may take a day, but it would blow over, all the stupid little fights that the brothers had blew over in a few days, a week at the most. All they really had was each other; it didn't make sense to be angry for no reason for very long.

In the morning Sam didn't say anything to Dean while he fixed himself breakfast, ripped the box of Lucky Charms out of Dean's hands.

"Dude," Dean sighed. "I said I was sorry, knock it off."

Sam didn't even acknowledge that Dean had spoken, just ate his cereal and stormed off to school.

"Grow up," Dean sighed to the slammed door as he got ready for work.

Around noon, Dean called the house and left a message, telling Sam that he wouldn't be back until after eight. He was asked to help with some last minute body work for a regular customer. Wanted Sam to fix himself something for dinner, Dean would take care of himself.

When Dean got home the trailer was dark and empty. The light on the answering machine was still blinking, clearly Sam hadn't been back. Dean didn't want to make a big deal out of it. He knew Sam was still upset that morning, probably was still a little pissed off, Sam had a tendency to do things like that, just hold on to anger when it was easier, smarter, to just let go. Dean usually shrugged it off as Sam was passionate. Told his dad Sam was sensitive, but right now, in that empty trailer with no note, no phone message except for the one he'd left, Sam was just being a dick.

Dean didn't know any of Sam's friends at school. John has told him over and over to get familiar with Sam's friends, but Dean hadn't done that since he's started high school. He wasn't really up to hanging around with little kids anymore. He couldn't call anyone, didn't even know anyone's name besides Tiffany, didn't know where anyone lived. John didn't think Sam was responsible enough for a cell phone, barely trusted Dean with one, so Dean had no way to get a hold of Sam. He didn't really mind if he didn't sleep there, but he could at least let Dean know he was alive.

Dean paced the trailer a couple times before searching their bedroom. Sam's duffle bag was gone, so he'd come home after school, Dean would have noticed if he left with it. All of Sam's school books, notebooks, and the small mountain of novels he'd been collecting were gone, the drawers of the dresser that came with trailer were empty. Sam's bed was neatly made, but the pillows were gone. Sam was gone.

Dean felt panic building like it did every time Sam was supposed to be in his eye line but wasn't. This wasn't fair; Dean hadn't even really done anything to result in this. He'd opened a door to see his brother kissing a girl. Sam had done that, and worse, to him a million times and he'd never stormed off.

Dean sat down at the kitchen table and looked at the clock over the stove, it was just after ten, too late to really drive around aimlessly looking for this brother, especially when he had to be back in the shop at seven. He knew if he got in the car he wouldn't sleep, if he sat here he wouldn't sleep. But at least if he was here, he'd know if Sam came home or not. So he turned the chair so it faced the door an waited.

He woke with a jerk, neck stiff, at five thirty. Sam wasn't back, the bedroom door was still open, Sam would have closed it if he snuck in. Dean tried to breathe, but his chest was too tight. He'd stop by the school before it got out to see if Sam was there. That was all he could do, besides freaking out.

The work day dragged, his boss could tell he wasn't focused, almost messed up a simple oil change or a little old lady. If he didn't have someone looking over his shoulder he probably would have been fired by lunch time. He sat on picnic table with his value menu lunch next to him trying to figure out the phone number for the high school. When he finally got ahold of the school, the secretary wouldn't tell him if Sam was there. It took every bit of energy he had not to scream into the phone.

"What's up with you today?" his boss asked having enough to Dean's mistakes.

"My brother's missing," saying it made it real. Saying it meant that he'd failed. Failed at the most important job he'd ever been given.

"Whaddya mean missing?" his boss scoffed. "Like kidnapped?"

"I don't know," Dean shook his head. "He left for school yesterday and I haven't seen him since."

"He's fourteen, right?"

"Fifteen," Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"Just some teenage hormone thing," his boss waved a hand at him. "He'll be back."

"He's never taken off like this before," Dean replied. "He's just gone. No note, didn't leave a message telling me he's okay. I mean, if he's going to be gone, he doesn't gotta tell me where he is, just tell me he's alive."

"You're freaking about nothing," his boss said. "Get your head in the game, or I don't need you here."

"If I leave can I come back tomorrow?" Dean asked softly. "I gotta find Sam. I gotta find Sam before my dad gets back."

"Yeah," his boss nodded. "But you've gotta be all here, or you I don't want you. Understand?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll find him, and I'll be here tomorrow all good. I swear."

"I'm here to pick up Sam Winchester," Dean told the office lady when he got to the school. "I'm his brother, we gotta family emergency."

"You know what class he's in?" the woman asked.

"No," Dean replied.

"Well how am I supposed to find him?" the woman spat back.

"I don't know," Dean replied. "I just need my brother."

"You know his homeroom?" the woman sighed.

"No," Dean answered. "Wait, no, the geometry teacher, with the strange facial hair. Sammy makes fun of him."

The woman sighed and started to click at her computer. "He's wasn't in homeroom today."

"Excuse me?" Dean said, leaning over the counter. "What you mean he wasn't in homeroom kid hasn't missed a day of school since daycare."

"According to this," the woman motioned at her monitor. "Sam Winchester was marked absent. He ain't here."

"There's a mistake," Dean replied.

The woman rolled her eyes and pulled out a pile of manila envelopes from a milk crate next to her. She pulled a piece of paper out of one and shoved it in Dean's face.

"See, marked absent. He ain't here."

"Then where the hell is he?" Dean asked mostly to himself.

"Ain't my department kid," The woman sat back down in her chair.

"Can I talk to his friends?" Dean asked. "Tiffany Phillips, she might know where he is."

"No," the woman replied. "I can't just call random people down here because your brother skipped school."

"You've been helpful," Dean scoffed turning and leaving the building.

He drove around town aimlessly, stopping at every place Dean figured Sam would go, the library, the comic book story, the bowling alley, the arcade, nothing. He only had a four year old picture of his brother to show people, and Sam had changed a whole hell of a lot since he was eleven. So he went home, and did the same thing the next day, checking the library, the bookstore, the grocery store anything, everything.

And every night, Dean would come home and sit in front of the door in the kitchen chair not sleeping hoping that front door would open and Sam would come home. He kept trying the school. Apparently, Sam had sent in some forged doctor's note, but the secretary wouldn't tell him who was bringing Sam he work, wouldn't tell him anything. But at least he knew Sam wasn't dead, couldn't be if he was turning in his work. Dean sat in front of the school hoping Tiffany would walk by, but she didn't. He idled by the skating rink Saturday hoping to catch a glimpse of his brother on his date, but neither Sam nor Tiffany showed. He started to worry about what would happen when their dad got back, how horrible that would be. He was nineteen years old, had one thing to do for the last fifteen years and he failed, outright failed at keeping his brother safe.

He got his answer a week and half after Sam disappeared. The headlights shining through the kitchen window could only mean one thing. He was dead.