Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam ,Mary and John; the rest are mine though...all that aren't Supernatural-related.

AN: I am rewriting this installment somehow to smoothen out some rough edges in them. I know some of you guys have already read this--but I still invite you to feel free and tell me what you all think of the revisions, okay? ^-^ Please and thank you. ^-^ -still me, Innocuous.

P.S. The original piece is still up so it would be easier to tell the difference between the two.

ooooooooooooo

THE Prodigal

Dean Winchester is a bubbly creature around the Macallister place. One would normally think he lived there and owned the place since he would be all over the house doing who knows what and everybody just lets him. But since the Macallisters all love him dearly, they let him get away with just about anything. And normally he would be all over, except today, he was anything but bubbly and anywhere else but all over.

“Hey, is everything alright, man?” the 14 year old Brandon Macallister asks his best friend, coming alongside him leaning against the banister beside the other boy; both of them are at the front porch just hanging around right after school.

“He is coming home today.” his best friend's voice faded as he said it with a straight face, Dean Winchester--also 14. He is looking across the street at the moment, and he may not have meant to do so, but it came across to Brandon that he was making every effort to keep their eyes from meeting. Oblivious to the Mac boy, Dean was mentally wishing and waiting for a miracle to take place somehow. Just about anything really; anything that would make everything be okay again--like it had been yesterday. Like it has been for the past 6 years.

“He?” Brandon asks back, “Who’s this ‘he’?” After having asked that, he was somehow left standing there by himself after Dean found his way to the top step and sat there; toying with the bottle of soda that he was drinking.

“Sam.” Dean says rather grudgingly.

“Wait…wait…wait! Let me get this straight---your Sam? Your Sam is coming home?” the Mac boy asks in disbelief, even allowing a big happy smile to break his face just then.

“Give me a break!” Dean spat, “He’s not my Sam, Brandon! In fact, he’s nobody’s!” he finishes, jutting a finger towards the other boy's direction to punctuate and emphasize his response.

“We're talking about Sam Winchester here, weren't we? Your little brother, Sam?”

Dean doesn’t verbalize his response but snorts to the remark from his best friend; and then it stops there. That was how far his reply went.

"Dean, as I remember, Sam is the chubby little side kick that use to follow you around in kindergarten, man? The one you beat up a kid twice your size for cause the bastard took the kid's candy treat when he and your mom went to visit you in our school one time? He's the same Samuel, Dean. Your little brother--YOUR Sam.”

Dean remained quiet where he was--swirling the liquid inside the soda bottle in his hand absent-mindedly as he listened to his best friend. When Brandon started talking to him about the kid, no matter how hard-set his face was, and how bad he was denying it, he actually went back to memoria lane at the recollection of said events in his past involving his little brother. Since his back was to Brandon, the Mac boy never saw the smirk that somehow escaped the Winchester boy's lips as he recalled the chubby little brother aptly described earlier by his best friend, who did follow him everywhere when they were little. And along with his recollection of Sam, he also recalls vividly the affection and fierce devotion he had towards that chubby pink flesh that was a walking little disaster. It made him feel warm and fuzzy as he sat there surrendering to the feeling that if it hadn’t been for Brandon who found a spot next to him on the steps and nudging him unintentionally in the process, his touch with reality would have taken a back seat for awhile. But then that was not what happened. Brandon pulled him back to the realities of life after he accidentally nudged him.

“Isn’t he the same one, man?”

“You know what?" Dean says calmly, "You have this sickening aptness for stating the obvious really well, man--it's pathetic! You don't have to rub it in, Brandon! I know he's the same kid, okay? I only know of one Sam!"

"Then what is with the bitchin', dude?" Brandon says, "I thought you would be happy he's coming home?"

"Happy?" Dean scoffs, "What--are you kidding me? After spending years of my life trying to forget that he even existed--why on earth would you assume I'd be happy seeing him again?" he spat, slapping the other boy on the arm with the back of his hand. "If that isn't ridiculous, man--I don't what is!"

“No, Dean--you're the one who's being ridiculous here. You should be happy he is coming home, man. YOUR Sam."

“What are you trying to do to me?” Dean snipes.

“What?”

“You are supposed to be making me feel better here. Best friends do that." Dean pointed out. "I don’t need this right now! Especially not from you!”

“Listen Dean, I’m sorry, okay? I am, but what am I supposed to tell you here exactly?" Brandon defended, "The kid is your brother whether you like it or not! And if I remember it correctly, man—even back then, as kids...the kid was off limits to every body else that isn't you, Dean. Even to me---you loved him that much...you wanted to keep him to yourself because you didn’t want him to have anybody else but you? You were inseparable, Dean...”

“Well, that was then---“

“He is coming back home, Dean...it could still be like before again.”

“Well, I don’t want it to be." Dean says, "And I don't want him back! Not anymore...”

“He has no place else to go, Dean---and you know that!”

“As far as I'm concerned he messed-up. It wasn’t me. I Shouldn't be paying for it now.”

“Pay for it? What are you talking about? He’s the one who was sent away to live with you relatives!” Brandon scows.

“He tore my family apart, Brandon! He killed my mother!” Dean responded calmly but his eyes were saying otherwise of how he was really feeling inside. "He deserved to be sent away!"

“Surely you don’t believe that?” Brandon spat disgustedly at what he heard from Dean just then.

“Guess what, Brandon---” Dean began to say as he got up and started walking down the steps to the street; halfway though, he stops long enough to face Brandon, who still hasn't gotten up from the steps. “---I do!"

“Dean, don't do this..." Brandon calls out to his best friend but was ignored altogether as he watched Dean's retreating figure fading around the corner down the street.

Dean Winchester and Brandon Macallister have been the bestest of friends ever since they were 2. Both of them put up with each others crap unconditionally; and they both respect each other the same amount as well, which is why Twelve years later, they are still the best of friends. There is nothing they would not do for each other--they always had each others backs. They're brothers; may not be by blood, but still they are brothers.

--------------

Whitfield’s manor, his granny's place.

As quietly as the boy could, he ninjas his way in through the back door leading to the kitchen. It was almost as if he was tiptoeing his way in deliberately to avoid having to talk to either of his maternal grandparents. And he was actually halfway into mentally reveling at his feat of generally avoiding the old couple altogether when just then he hears footsteps from behind and coming towards him.

“Dean, sweetie...you're home early!” came the warm soft greeting that could only come from Amaliah Whitfield, Dean's grams. Dean’s back was to her at the moment. After she spoke her grandson actually managed to conceal a grimace that came out of him at hearing her presence catching him. “Your brother will be here in an hour. Gramps will be picking him up at the airport in a little while—do you maybe want to tag along, baby?” she asks her grandson warmly, her voice as warm as her face which after Dean both heard and saw respectively, could not help but will himself to force to plaster a fake smile on his face just before facing her; if only to humor and patronize her.

“Naah. It's okay, grams. I'm kind'a bushed at the moment." Dean defended--even faking a yawn out to sell his pitch. "Practice was gruesome. Gramps knows the way--he doesn't need me."

"But Sam would want to see you, dear."

'I don't!' Dean mentally scoffs, he wanted to say it out loud too--only he veers a different direction verbally. "Grams, we live in the same roof. Isn't he living here? We're bound to bump into each other one way or the other when he gets here. Like I said, grams--I am really whacked out. I’ll be in my room. Let's not make a big deal out of this, okay, grams?" retorts her grandson.

Grams easily read something in her grandson’s reaction and it made her sore.

“Honey---“

“I’ll be in my room, grams...” The boy says as he turns to head for the stairs with him mentally wishing she would just drop it already.

“Baby, one of these days you will have to learn to accept him again, you know?”

’Why the hell do you have to do this, lady?’ Dean gruntles to himself under his breath. “Doubt it!” He finally was able to say out loud; after which, having said that, the teenager ran upstairs--leaving grams by herself, concerned, frustrated.

The fourteen year old is lying face down on his bed. Counting mentally--it took him 45 seconds burying his face to his pillow before he ran out of air. Gasping, he rolls to his side and goes about to staring at the ceiling next. The clock on top of the nightstand bleeped, calling his attention just then. He turns his head towards it to look at the time. 6:30.

‘He'll be here any minute.' he says in his head. 'I can't be here.'

Dean shut his eyes and suddenly, he was back to memoria lane again. He was thinking about Sam. His Sam.

'NO!' he growls, his eyes shot open to that. 'He's NOT MY Sam!' "Got'ta get out of here!" he says to himself out loud, and having said so, Dean got up, climbed down the lattice outside his window--headed to nowhere in particular.

It wasn't a few hours later when grams decided to knock on Dean’s door to try and talk to him again. But just as she pushed the door open, half-expectant to find Dean there, pretend- sleeping; she was greeted with an open window and an empty bed instead. No Dean.

“Oh sweetie...“she groans disappointingly, watching the curtains flutter about in the soft wind coming in the open window.

The PIT, Dean’s usual hang out. He was there with Brandon and the rest of his friends playing pool. After taking off from the Whitfield's home in Dandelions Street, he immediately headed for the Macs, he was then directed to the Pits where his gang are after he found his boys NOT even there.

“Yeah, she was kind ‘a like Todd’s girlfriend the last time--the one from Mars or one of the other planets besides ours!” Marc Lester started judgingly before he takes a swig of the soda he ordered, next scarfing down a chip from the bowl in front of him on the counter.

“She was pretty, Mac!" Robin says, joining Marc's hand fishing for another chip in the same bowl.

"What are you talking about?" Marc Lester spat. "You all saw her outside the movie house, kiddo! She was anything BUT pretty!"

"Oh come on? She was to!" Robin had to add quickly add since he got a judging look from the older boy.

"She was not!"Marc Lester snaps back, "But that doesn't mean I'm shallow or anything--she just wasn't pretty. Looking back at it now, I don't even think she was a lady either!" he mutters under his breath.

"Trust me, Mac." the other boy says, trying so hard to hold the chuckles in, "She was a lady--and she was a little bit pretty too."

"If you say so."

Robin meets Marc Lester's eyes as they sat there in silence from across each other; three beats later,

"The only problem is---it was kind of coming more from the inside than the outside!" Robin finishes.

Marc Lester Macallister, he's Brandon’s cousin, and he’s 15--the oldest in the group. After Robin Sennett finished the remark, he jumps off from the bar stool behind the counter where he and Robin had been sitting at earlier and started after the kid, Sennett, who is the youngest in the gang. He's 12.

”Uncle! Uncle!” the kid cries murder under the choke hold Marc Lester has him in after he caught him awhile ago near the pool table where the rest of the gang are. Brandon, who had just come back in from the restroom, just joined them. He headed to where his best friend was as well as the rest of their friends. Dean has the cue stick on hand, it's his turn. And not to be partial about it, but his best friend is quite the ace in basically two sports, pool being one and basketball the other. 'Oh yeah, he's the ace alright!' Brandon says in his head as he was making his way to his friends yet. 'And if flirting had been a sport, that would make three he's good at!' he finishes with a smirk as he got there. To this Dean gives him the stink eye for but he quickly brushes the look away with a vague hand gesture.

"So did you cheat by any chance while I was in the John?" he says to the Winchester boy.

“Yeah,while everybody was watching too.” was the reply from Dean without even finding the need to take his eyes from off his game on the pool table. Brandon, along with the rest of the gang hanging around the side of the table smirk to this. They very well know Dean didn't cheat, would never, it was more like harmless bantering among them.

“So---grams was looking for you. She called while I was in the restroom.” Brandon said to continue the conversation, he shifted in his place uneasily across Dean after he saw the change in the boy's expression.

“You told her I was here?” Dean stops, looks at Brandon across the pool table.

“No.”

Dean resumes playing. “I can’t go home just yet.” he says, walking over to the other end of the table for a better angle.

“Problem at home?” Henry Matthewson, 14, he joins in this time. Dean is playing against him. He is Dean’s and Brandon’s age; known as the brain boy to the gang. The reason behind this is that everything they usually do he is behind it. He plans it, Mac okays it, the rest of the boys execute.

“My freak brother-- he's out!” The Winchester boy says flatly. Brandon never missed seeing the look on his best friend’s face just then. It was unsettling for him. He hasn’t seen that look on Dean before.

“Dude! Hasn’t Eloise always been out man?” Henry retorts, referring to Dean’s oldest brother Theodore Eloise. At this remark, Dean blurts out a snicker. So did Brandon but Dean quickly reverts back to looking serious almost immediately; like his humor had a turn on and off switch.

“Sam, brain boy. Sam’s out.” Brandon had to add in behalf of Dean to clarify since he noticed that his best friend didn’t even want to say his brother’s name just then.

“Really, man? I mean---he’s coming back to the Plains?” Henry asks excitedly.

Robin, who was messing around with Marc Lester just then and another one of their friends, Todd Williams, who was the same age as Marc--after they heard the name 'Sam' mentioned, immediately came over.

“Sam is home?” the 12 year old asks in behalf of the two older boys, he is all wide-eyed and beaming. “I’ve always wanted to meet that chubby little kid in the photos, Dean!”

“Don’t hold your breath on that, kid. Ain't gonna happen.” Dean says coldly.

“Hey---what was that all about?” The oldest boy comments at the response from the Winchester kid.

“It’s been ages, bro---what 6 years!” Henry added.

“I’m not dropping my guard around him again, guys, just cause he's back? Big deal It was his fault! Everything was his fault!” Dean defended distractedly while focusing his attention to his game. ”He deserved to get sent away...he’s not even supposed to come back home!”

The guys all looked at each other at the remark from their friend. At that same moment, Dean just sunk the last ball in.

------------------

Dean has been staying at the Macallisters since Sam arrived two weeks earlier. And it wasn't two more days later, when just right before dinner, gramps and Dean got into a heated argument inside the old man’s office after the boy was recalled home from the Macs'. And Dean is anything BUT thrilled.

“Why are you making such a big deal about this, huh, gramps? I’m not a little kid anymore, you know?" Dean growls, "It's not going to be as easy as before! I'm not going to just bow down every time you want me to! And I’m not staying either! I’ll be at the Mac’s!” the boy gets up from the couch across the room from his gramps who was behind his office desk, and heads for the door.

“Young man, you cannot keep imposing on people on a whim just because you are trying to run away from your issues!” Armando Whitfield yells after the boy. Dean who was already halfway through the door stopped on his tracks after hearing that remark from the old man. It struck him sore; making him want to leave even more. But he just wanted to say something to his gramps' face first.

“Yeah, cause you think you already know everything about me, don't you?” Dean storms out after saying that.

Just about that time, Sam was coming up to call everybody down for dinner. The brothers met halfway down the hall. But Dean doesn't even realize it was him, Sam, his little brother. He was too agitated at the moment he blocked out everything around him. For Dean, the hallway at the moment was empty of everything BUT himself. He even brushed his shoulder against Sammy’s but even that doesn't stop him from storming away. He wouldn’t even have noticed his brother at all if it wasn’t for gramps who came fuming out of his office and was yelling after him to stop.

“How dare you walk out on me!” Armando's voice echoed the hallway where the two boys stood with their backs to each other; the younger boy, at the sight of the angry old man, paled instantly. But he still managed to turn his head slowly to look at his big brother. Dean does stop walking and turned around to face his gramps.

“What do you want from me, huh?” he spat angrily.

“How dare you use that tone of voice on me?” the old man started walking towards him. Neither of them noticed the little kid caught in the crossfire between them. “You rebellious little---” gramps, in his anger would’ve easily come at Dean to strike him when from out of nowhere, steps in Sam---in front of his brother.

“Grampa, don’t---“came the soft small voice from the 10 year old.

Dean's ears tingled to that familiar and not so familiar voice just then. His breath quickened and then caught. And that's when he recognized him. It was Sammy standing there; all grown-up; no longer the chubby little kid he use to remember him to be. He's now even only a few inches shorter that him now too.

‘god! He looks just like mom!’ Dean says to himself in his head and for a few seconds, got lost staring into his little brother’s dewy sensitive brown eyes. He couldn’t understand it, but from out of nowhere, he felt warm all of a sudden with Sam looking at him.

They fell quiet for a few seconds standing there in front of each other; JUST the two of them. Gramps seemed to have disappeared for that brief moment and there's just him and Sam.

'Sammy...' Dean says in his head. His hands on his sides wanted to reach in and grab the kid in a hug, but somehow, he doesn't allow it to happen. Just then his thought-bubble pops up after their gramps' voice breaks through. Dean snaps back to the reality where Sam--where the kid is the enemy. “Don’t, gramps…don’t force me to do what you want! It's not g-gon'na--not gon'na work anymore...” he stuttered; not having fully recovered yet from the idea of being there, face to face with his little brother after 6 long years. He tosses Sam a sidelong glance before walking away altogether, only his little brother wasn’t looking at him that time, the younger boy was looking at the old man; distressed at the exchange of angry words between his grandfather and big brother in front of him.

“You come back here, son of a bitch!” Armando yelled angrily after Dean, but no matter how many times he cussed, his older grandson didn’t come back. Just then from out of nowhere, the old man raised his fist and struck his younger grandson across the face. Sam hit himself against the wall with a loud thud. He was not himself at the moment and didn’t realize what he just did until a few seconds later after he did the harm. “I’m sorry, son---“ he said, feeling really sore about what he did to the small boy.

“I’m okay, grampa…” Sammy says softly, giving the old man an albeit wary, but genuine warm smile right before walking to his room down the hall.

---------------

Dean is sitting on the Mac’s porch steps in deep in thought. He is in total disbelief sitting there. ‘Can’t believe you’re all grown up now, kiddo!' he mentally says fondly of Sam, 'I wonder where all the baby fat went---’ he added, smirking as he was shaking his head in amusement and disbelief. ‘You were really there, baby brother…”

Brandon comes out of the house and sits beside him; nudging him by accident. Dean snaps out of the trance-like situation he was in just then. It was the second time his thought-bubble popped that day, and they both involved Sam.

“You okay?” the Mac boy asks.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?" came the smug response from its equally smug owner.

“Oh, I don’t know---I just thought maybe you’d be all torn up inside what with all the suppressed emotions and guilt you’ve been bottling up all this time!” Brandon remarks to tease his best friend.

“You know what, B? I haven’t realized it before just until recently---“ Dean starts, craning his neck to catch Brandon's eyes.

“Realize what exactly?”

“That you’re a big jerk!”

Brandon blurts out a chuckle at Dean’s blunt response.

“Right back at’cha, bro!” he says, patting Dean on the back. Dean sniggers to this. “Come on, dinner’s up!” invites Brandon. “You’re not going to let me eat my old lady's cooking all by my lonesome, are you? You owe me this standing by you all this time don't you think?”

-------------------

It was 10 o’clock in the evening when Armando notices the front door open a crack when he came down to get himself a glass of water. Slowly coming out the door, he chances upon his youngest grandson. And he is sitting by the outside couch at the front porch. They got to talking and it wasn't hours later when Sammy started to double over and sob.

Gramps quickly wrapped his arms around the small kid beside him; big fat tears falling down both sides of their faces respectively in pure abandon. Armando felt his heart rip at the kid's soft whimpers. He grabbed him even tighter.

“Let’s just give your brother time with this, okay son?He just first needs more time to get around the idea that you are home."

"I've waited for a long long time to come back home, Grampa. I've missed Dean so much..." the kid says sadly.

"I know, baby." gramps says, pulling Sam tighter in the hug and planting a soft kiss on the kid's cheek."I know..."