Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters belongs to the CW. I own nothing and am just ing the characters. All other characters and the plot are mine.

So this little story (which will be longer than I originally intended) is for Raven524 who won me in a charity auction. She requested that I write something that included younger Sam and Dean, John, hurt!Sam, protective!Dean, and an explanation as to why John shielded the boys from the rest of the hunting world. So here's my humble attempt at making her happy. I hope you all enjoy.

The Convention: Chapter 1- Trespassing

"Dad, come on, I can help with this one."

Sam looked up from his book to watch his father continue to flip through his research. Dean's begging had been going on for about five minutes and at this point he was just being ignored. Sam shook his head and returned to his book. He gave it one more minute before his father finally snapped.

"I don't get it! That last hunt went perfect! You said so yourself! We left without even a scratch!"

Their father didn't even look up and Sam hid his smirk. Normally the situation would be reversed, with their father insisting that they accompany him on the hunt and Sam begging to get out of it. But now John Winchester was going hunting with three other hunters and Dean, despite his obvious yearning to be included, was being left behind.

Dean stomped his foot and paced away from where his father was seated at the table before spinning back around. "Don't you see what a huge opportunity this is for me.?"

At that John looked up, somewhat amused, and raised eyebrows, silently asking Dean to enlighten him. Obviously, he didn't see whatever the huge opportunity was.

"Dad, I'd get to learn from all four of you. This is huge!"

Appearing less pleased, their father cut him off before he could continue. "I make sure you learn everything you need to know."

"I know, dad, but I'm twenty. Hunting these things with you guys…it'd be like I've graduated, like I'm one of the guys."

Their father shook his head and turned back around. "You haven't graduated. I'll let you know when that day happens."

Dean stepped back, clearly crushed. Sam made a face of pity. As much as Sam hated it, Dean loved hunting and he was constantly trying to prove himself to their dad…another bone of contention with Sam. Regardless though, Sam knew that their father's last comment had to hurt.

Obviously picking up on the sudden silence, John sighed and turned around again. "Look, Dean, you're a great hunter, but I don't want you in this one." He gestured over to Sam, "…just like I don't want Sammy in it either."

At that, Sam threw in his own comment. "Sam doesn't want to be in it." He probably should've stayed out of it, but he couldn't help it. Two glares turned his way and Sam gave a quick smile and returned to his book.

"Are these things that much more dangerous than the rawhead we took out a few weeks back?"

Their father shook his head. "I'm done with this conversation and when the others get here, you stay out of our way." With that, John picked up all his papers from the table and made his way to the separate bedroom.

Sam lowered his book, feeling Dean's eyes upon him. "What?"

Dean shook his head and threw up his hands. "I don't get it."

Sam rolled his eyes. "So you don't get to hunt a gwyllion. What's the big deal, Dean? She's a crotchety old lady who likes to jump out and scare people for the fun of it. If you ask me, if she's not killing anybody, she shouldn't be hunted anyway."

Dean gave a growl of frustration and spun around. "I knew you wouldn't understand."

Sam took a breath and put his book on the coffee table. "All right, so what is it?"

Dean turned back to his brother. "Dad and I, and you, have been on at least thirty hunts in the past year alone and for the most part, we've done a pretty damn good job."

A few hunts popped into Sam's mind where they had done less than a stellar job, however, he chose to keep his mouth shut on that point in order to allow Dean to explain his argument…whatever that was. "Okay…"

Dean continued, "Okay, so, why now? Why, now that Pastor Jim and Bobby and Caleb are coming to work with dad are we suddenly shut out of the whole thing?"

Sam thought for a moment, but having come to no obvious conclusion, shrugged. "Uh…I don't know. Maybe they just want to do it the four of them, like a reunion thing."

Dean shook his head. "Bobby and Pastor Jim don't even know each other-"

"Well then maybe it's a blind date for the two of them. I don't know, Dean. And I really don't see what the big deal is. Dad's got three friends…period, and even then he's not always on the best of terms with them. So he wants to do a hunt with just him and his friends? What's the problem?"

Dean crossed his arms and glared at the floor, obviously seething. A sudden thought struck Sam. "Is that what this is?"

Dean looked up, suspicious. "What?"

Pointing at his brother, Sam spoke. "You're jealous that dad's going hunting with somebody other than you."

Dean shook his head, but Sam could see in his brother's eyes that he was right. Feeling more confident, Sam smiled and rose from his chair, advancing on his brother. "You're jealous. You're always dad's right hand man and this is like he's cheating on you."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "That's ridiculous."

Sam bit his lip to keep from laughing. "I can't believe you're jealous."

"I am not!" Dean stomped his foot and Sam couldn't hold it in and longer. He doubled over laughing.

"Shut up! That's not what the issue is!"

Caught up in his own hysterics, Sam ignored his brother- until he was pushed back down into the chair. Finally, he attempted to compose himself. He looked up at his red faced brother with a barely controlled smile.

Dean pointed down at him. "I am not jealous. I don't care who dad goes hunting with. I just don't understand why I can't go too. I'm twenty years old, I've been hunting for five years now…what? Does he think I'm going to royally screw up? Like now that other hunters are going to be there he doesn't want me hunting with them? Am I that freakin' pathetic that he's ashamed to hunt with me if other hunters are around?"

Sam's smile faded as he listened to his brother's hurt. "I'm sure that's not it, Dean. Like I said, he probably just wanted some time alone. Hell, it's not like he hasn't gone off on his own before-"

"Yeah, but that was different, that was on his own. This-"

"You really think all those times he went off solo he was really alone? Come on, man. This is dad. He never tells us anything. Hell, we barely even know Caleb despite the fact that he and dad have been on at least a dozen hunts together…and we only know that because dad got hurt."

Dean just stared at his brother as he absorbed the truth in that statement. Finally, he looked down in resignation. "I still don't see why I couldn't come. I'm older now. He should trust me more."

Sam picked up his book again and returned to his reading. "It's dad, Dean. He's never going to trust us with anything. Just get used to it."

Dean gave an aggravated sigh and called out loud enough for their father to hear. "I'm going out."

A voice called out from the bedroom. "Leave the car."

With an annoyed grimace, Dean pulled the car keys out of his jacket and threw them on the table. Three seconds later, he was out the door.

Debating only for a moment, Sam threw his book back onto the table and with a shout to his dad, followed his brother. "Dean, wait up."

Dean paused briefly, his lingering anger reflected in his hunched, tight shoulders.

Sam jogged to catch up to his brother. "I was thinking."

Dean raised his head to look at his sibling, but said nothing.

"We should do something. You know, since we're both free and all. Like the old days."

Dean's brows raised in amusement. "The old days? Dude, we do stuff all the time. What old days are you talking about?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Like when we were younger, before dad made us start hunting with him. Like when it used to be just you and me."

Dean's expression grew skeptical. "So…what? You wanna sit in a hotel room and watch cartoons while I cook you dinner? Um, let me think about this…yeah, no thanks."

Sam felt his shoulders drop a bit. Was that all Dean thought of their time together? Had Dean really been so miserable? "We used to do other stuff, Dean. You'd take me to the movies or we'd go out to the diner. We could do that…"

Dean shook his head. "Yeah. I'm not really in the mood, Sammy. Besides, it's just you and me enough around here. It'd be nice to be there when the others show up."

Ignoring the fact that his brother didn't want to spend time with him, Sam questioned the rest of Dean's statement. "But dad told you to stay out of the way once everyone got here."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well, the way I figure it, if I keep my mouth shut and park myself in the corner, dad'll let me sit in on at least the planning."

"I don't know, dude. Dad seemed pretty adamant."

Anger clouded Dean's features. "What the hell do you know, Sammy? You don't even like hunting."

Sam threw out his hands. "What the hell does that have to do with anything? I still know dad. I just wanted to hang out with you. Excuse me for not having a hunt for you to go on. Guess I'm just too boring for you. You'd rather sit around watching four middle aged men discuss 150 ways to kill an old lady- men who don't even want you there, by the way- than go see a movie with your brother who actually wants to spend time with you."

Dean huffed in annoyance as he pointed at his brother. "Don't be so goddamn dramatic. I'm with you all the time, Sammy. So sue me for wanting to actually listen in on how other hunters do things. You know, this is our future. It'd be nice for you to take a little interest in it."

At that, Sam stepped back, his eyes narrowing. "Hunting is not my future. You wanna take up the family business, fine, but I've got plans for my life and they don't include a weapons arsenal in my trunk."

Dean shook his head, his jaw jutting out in anger. "Now who doesn't know dad. You think dad's just gonna let you walk out and go lead your white picket fence life while mom's killer is still around?"

Sam's eyes met his brother's. "What makes you think I plan on asking?"

Dean threw his arm up and turned around. "You know what? I'm done with this. Go do what you want, Sam. Have a nice life; I'll see you around."

Guilt began to well up in Sam as he watched his brother turn away. Of course he had no intention of just walking out on his family, but then, he had no intention of becoming a hunter either. There was no reason he couldn't get a legitimate job and still help his family track down his mom's killer…Hell, he could provide the money for them. He could earn the money, at a real job, and his dad and Dean could take whatever they needed for the hunt. It would all work out when the time came. He was sure of it. Still, he didn't want Dean walking away thinking that Sam intended to walk out on everybody; he didn't.

"Dean!" Sam called out to his brother, who just kept walking. "I didn't mean that I'd just walk out. You know I wouldn't."

Dean called back to him, still walking. "Yeah, whatever."

Sam looked up at the sky and huffed a growl in frustration. Dean was really pissed now. Sam moved to go back to their rented house. Once Dean was in one of his moods, he could stay like that for days. So much for using this free week to spend time with his brother…

Walking back in the house, Sam spied his soccer ball over in the corner of the living room. He called out to his dad. "I'm going to practice my soccer drills."

An answer resounded from the door of the bedroom. "Get it all in now, Sammy. Come next week, you're not gonna have much free time."

Sam narrowed his eyes at the door, just how he wanted to spend the remainder of his summer…hunting. With a sigh, Sam tossed his ball up in the air. "At least I'll have a week of summer practice before I go back to school."

As he walked out the door, Sam wondered where his next school would be and if they had juniors on their varsity soccer team.

--

"Hey! Hey you!"

Pausing in his thirty minute long dribble, Sam looked up at the teenagers advancing on him. Clad in their own soccer gear, the six teenagers left the meadow where they were playing and crossed the road toward Sam.

"Hey, you play?" One of the out-of-breath boys asked.

Sam nodded. "A little."

The boys smiled, still breathing hard. "It's like destiny!"

Sam backed up at that and one of the other teens laughed. "We play here every Saturday but one of our guys didn't show up so were stuck."

Another boy chimed in. "Six doesn't make a team. We need a fill in. You willing?"

A smile lit up Sam's face. Impromptu soccer match? "I'm in."

The boys grinned back, conspiracy covering their faces. They had only seen Sam dribbling the ball, but it was enough for them to know that their opponents were now in serious trouble.

--

Forty minutes into the game, Sam was covered in sweat and dirt and wishing he was wearing shorts. Still, his team was winning 8-5 and with three assists and three goals, he had certainly made his way "in" with the other boys.

One more assist and the scorer turned to opposing goalie jumping up and down in excitement. "Yeah! Yeah! Did you see that?! Yeah! In your face, Chris!"

Sam merely laughed as the goalie gave the screaming scorer the finger. Another of his teammates clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Damn, man. That was awesome. Please tell me you've move here."

Still grinning, Sam shook his head. "Nah. I'm just visiting here for the week with my family."

All of the boys game Sam a strange look at that and one of them spoke up. "Who the hell comes to Heath, Massachusetts for a vacation?"

Before Sam could answer, another boy, from the other team, answered for him. "There's some kind of thing going on. All the motels are booked this week and all these scary hard-asses are walking around."

One of Sam's teammates agreed. "They're all packing too."

A moan of disbelief was heard from both teams and the teen defended himself. "No, I'm telling you. Me and my brother saw them all this morning. They were all in the diner and we were counting all the guns they had on them. Not only that, but they all had knives strapped to their legs too."

Another round of "oh please" and "yeah right" indicated that the majority remained unconvinced. The goalie from Sam's team removed his mask, revealing a grin. "Maybe they're old Bristol's family come in for a reunion."

At that both teams laughed and Sam grew confused. "Who's old Bristol?"

One of the midfielders answered. "Old man Bristol, I think his name is Neil. In any case, he owns like half the land around here, like the land with nothing built on it. He bought up all the forests and stuff."

"Owns this meadow too."

The midfielder nodded and continued. "Yeah, but he's this mean old guy. He's got an entire barn full of guns and ammo and all this other shit."

The goalie from the other team called out. "People say he worships Satan and if he catches you on his land, like a day later you'll be found dead."

All the boys nodded in agreement. "We wouldn't even be risking it by playing here 'cept that he owns all the undeveloped land and there's nowhere else to play…and the street's not wide enough."

With a loud clap, the leader of the opposing team motioned the game to continue. "The longer we sit here talking, the more time he has to catch us, so what do you say we get going here?"

The goalie from Sam's team placed his mask back on. "Anxious to continue your ass-whooping, Mark?"

Mark flipped off the goalie with a scowl. "Screw you. You guys are only winning because of your new import. If Sam wasn't here we would've ground your faces in the dirt. 'Sides, game's not over yet."

The other forward winked at Sam. "You'll have to excuse him; he gets like that when he knows he's having his ass handed to him."

"Just play the damn game!"

Sam laughed at the verbal sparring as he rejoined the game. Ten minutes later, the score was 9-7 thanks to Mark's quick movements. Sensing a need to regroup, Sam's team called a time-out.

The boys were just getting into a huddle when they heard a shout.

"Shit! Run!"

A whooshing sound blew by them and Sam watched a metal arrow land half way into the ground.

"Get the hell off my land!"

One of the defensemen looked up and pointed. "Old man Bristol! Run!"

One by one, each of the boys took off, racing from the meadow to the road. With all of his physical training, Sam had no problem keeping up and passing most of the other boys. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Sam watched Mark fall flat on his face.

Turning sharply to his right, Sam ran over and helped the other boy up. Covered in dirt and sweat and panting hard, the teen swallowed and nodded. "Thanks."

Sam nodded back and pushed Mark forward, following closely behind his new friend. Suddenly, another whoosh sounded and a sharp pain blasted threw Sam's calf. A second later, he was flat on his face, in the dirt.

This particular chapter was a bit slow as it's mostly setting up the story, but I promise, the next few chapters will be nothing but excitement! Please leave a review and let me know what you think so far!