It's Okay. It Made Me Who I Am Today.

Dean Winchester's memory's were fading as he grew. The memory's of his life with his mother. His perfect family. His short but once normal childhood. There were still some things, that kept in his mind. Dream or reality he wasn't sure, but he liked to think of them as he went to sleep. Picturing his mother's face. The smile on his father's face. His innocent baby brother...

That was more to say than Sam. He had no memory of this time. He was thrown into a life of cheap and dirty motel rooms, mixed with his father's yelling. It wasn't the normal childhood Mary had wished for her children. It wasn't right.

John knew this. He hated it. It was the thing that burned at the back of his mind. The thing that ached his chest. The thing that drove him to self-loathing and alcohol. 'She would be disappointed in you', he told himself every morning, 'you've failed'. All of these things added up, contributing to the pain but it was when he saw Dean, his ten-year-old boy protecting his brother, fighting like a man, even talking like a man, when he was just a boy that it pained him the most. What happened to his little boy? What had he done to him?

He did his best to protect Sam, whom was only six. The boy thought his mother had died in a car accident and that his father was a traveling salesman. Even with these lies, his son still had to live an unfair life. Any friend he made, he was dragged away from. The lying hurt John as well, but he would do anything to protect his boy's, and by hiding this from him, he saw himself as protecting his little Sammy.
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It was a warm Monday morning and the humidity of the small motel room in Tennessee increased as the two young boys slept. Their breaths reflecting on the cool window adding a thin layer of condensation. Their father, on the other hand, had woken up early and was attempting to cook them breakfast. This he failed miserably at; he needn't even have to wake his boys as the black smoke of the burn't eggs had easily caused them to stir.

Dean woke up first, his nostrils filled with the nasty, burnt scent. He opened his eyes slowly to see his brother next to him. His father had payed for a room with three beds, but Sam always ended up in Dean's bed. The boy had frequent nightmares, and Dean was the one he seeked out for comfort. Dean rolled out of the bed, he had complained at Sammy for not sucking his nightmares up, but really he didn't mind sharing his bed. It meant if anything happened in the night he could protect his brother easier. That was the most important thing anyway; protecting Sammy. He noticed the smell was his father's cooking. Why on Earth was his dad cooking? His father never cooked, they normally just bought ready-made stuff. Then the boy remembered. He was back at school. It felt like there was a well in his stomach that just got deeper and deeper every time he started a different school. When the holidays finally came he could forget about the well, he no longer felt it. But when they ended, the horrible worries just came back. It wasn't the school work that worried him. He wasn't the brightest kid, but no matter how bad his grade, it really rarely bothered him. It was the way the other kid's looked at him. Like he was some kind of freak. Dean was getting better at ignoring them, but he couldn't deny to himself how worthless it made him feel. That wasn't even the worst part of school. Everyday he had to be separate from his brother. How was he supposed to protect little Sammy when he was forced away from him for six hours every damn day?

He sat at the table, "Dad, you didn't have to cook." He said, his maturity would be alarming for most adults, but John was used to it. It was his fault anyway, the man frequently thought to himself.
"I thought I'd treat you guys with a proper breakfast for once." He said sadly, only regretting his decision. John could decapitate a Vampire, or stab the death out of a werewolf with silver within seconds, but when it came to cooking; well it was his one biggest weakness. "Dean, go get your brother up. Dress him as well or you'll be late for school." He then instructed, placing the failed food onto three plates.
"Yes, Sir." Dean replied walking over to his brother, "Sammy, it's time to get up!" He said, placing his hand on Sam's shoulder and shaking it gently.
"I don't want to go to school.." The younger one complained, pulling the covers over his head, "I'm ill." He lied, knowing it wouldn't work but trying desperately anyway.
John looked over to Sam, "Sammy! Up!" He shouted, carrying the plates to the little table.

The boy obliged, allowing his brother to dress him. "The other kid's will be mean to me Dean. They always are." He said sadly, trying to stop the tears from falling down his face.
"Just beat them up if they're mean Sammy!" He replied toughly, he then noticed his father's glare. "I'm just kidding," He lied, "Ignore them. They're all stupid." He then said, as he pulled the shirt over his brother's head. After Sam was dressed Dean got out a shirt and pants out for himself, and pushed his brother gently to the table, "Just go eat Sammy."
"I still don't want to go to school.." He moaned as he walked toward his father and wiped his tears with his sleeve. The battle wasn't going to end that easily, Dean knew that.
Eventually Dean joined them at the table and forced down the burnt food. He wanted to show his gratitude. Sam was a different case; the sobbing boy tried, but the food all ended up in the trash.

Unfortunately, John had work he needed to get on with. To Sam this mean't his 'Sales service'. But to Dean this mean't his father was hunting the supernatural, which only brought Dean constant worrying and the urge to join his father. Another reason why he hated school, it pulled him away from doing what he was brought up to do. What could a teacher teach him of what they didn't know to exist? To both of the boys, however, it meant they had to walk to school.