This little one-shot is written for TammiTam, who told me while beta'ing my last story that she loved the brotherly banter between Sammy and Dean.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Supernatural, or anything related. The plot is mine, but I make no money from the bickering brothers.


Eight year old Sam Winchester looked up at his brother pleadingly. "But Dean, I don't wanna stay home, I want to help you and dad take down the 'digo."

"I know you do Sam, but dad says you aren't old enough yet," Dean sighed, arguing with his brother was getting old.

"You never let me do anything!" Sam stuck out his bottom lip and stomped his foot down, trying to make Dean see that he was right.

"Sam quit, and stop being so whiny, you're worse than a girl."


"But nothing Sam, just drop it!" Dean voice was no more than an exasperated sigh, but Sam heard it none-the-less.

"You're such a jerk!"

"And you," Dean started, making sure to draw out the 'you,' "are a bitch, deal with it."


"But Dad," Sam whined, his fourteen year old body pleading.

"No Sam! You're not joining the football team, and that's final!" John growled, getting sick and tired of arguing with his youngest every other day.

"Fine!" Sam all but yelled and ran down the hall to his room, slamming the door as he walked through it.

"What's your problem Sammy-boy?" Dean asked as he rose to his elbows, and put the magazine he had been reading down.

"None of your damn business ass-face!" If Dean was shocked at his brother's language, he didn't show it.

"Wow, what crawled up your butt, Samantha?"

"Probably the same thing that crawled up yours years ago, jerk." Sam felt his mood lighten, and he smiled a little.

"There's nothin' up mine, bitch." Dean said, and with a smirk Sam flopped down on his bed, the fight with his father all but forgotten.


Sixteen year old Sam looked up at his older brother from the hospital bed where he had been confined for the past three days. Apparently three broken ribs; one puncturing his lung; a dislocated shoulder, a broken knee, and being intubated for the better part of two days was a bad thing.

"Dean stop hovering," Sam growled, rolling his eyes as his brother continued to fret over every little thing Sam did. "Your worse than a mother." The moaned words caught Dean's attention, and he turned to look Sam in the eye.

"Well if you had paid attention on the last hunt, and hadn't gotten yourself hurt so much that you needed to be in the hospital, I wouldn't have to-" Dean cut himself off as he thought about what his brother had said. "I do not 'hover!'"

"Yeah, you do."

"No I don't, bitch."

"Yeah you do, butch."

"No I don't geek."

"Yes you do, mother goose."

"No I don't pudding face."

"Oh yeah Dean, that's real mature."


"Well look at it this way Sam, it's not 'goodbye,' it's 'see you later.'" Twenty-three year old Dean told his nineteen year old brother as he waited for the bus to take him to Palo Alto, California.

"Yeah," Sam breathed, his searching eyes full of emotion that he couldn't put into words.

"Oh my god, you're so sentimental!" Dean told him, exasperated.

"I am not!"

"Dude, I'm not hugging you. Yes you are."

"Shut up jerk."

"Make me bitch." Sam smiled at the familiar name, almost forgetting where he was, and the fact that his father had kicked him out of the apartment less than a hour before.


"I'm fine Sam!" Twenty seven year old Dean growled at his brother.

"Uh-huh, sure you are, and I'm the tooth fairy, like my wings?" Sam deadpanned.

"Oo, shiny!" Dean exclaimed.

"I swear you need a brain, Pinky."

"Bite me, Brain!"

"Bite yourself man-whore."

"Where's the fun in that geek-boy?"

"Maybe you'll find out you're a contortionist!" Sam said with sarcastic excitement. When he looked in the mirror and saw that Dean was actually thinking about doing what he suggested, Sam laughed. "My god, you really don't have a brain do you?"

"Shut up Sam!"



A/N: So I hope you liked this, especially you TammiTam... Let me know.

Take care,