Disclaimer: Once again, don't own anything.

Author's Note: This is a quick little one-shot that I decided to send your way. Hope ya'll enjoy it.

"Hey, Dad! Can I come with?"

"No, Dean, not yet. Here's the list. Take care of Sammy while I'm gone."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good boy."

Suckling back into the hotel room, he found Sam sitting on the bed, eyes glued to some Animal Planet TV show with a talking lizard explaining how animals worked. Dean rolled his eyes. "Why don't you ever watch cool stuff... like Ninja Turtles?"

"This IS cool," the younger boy pouted.

"Whatever, Sam. Come on, we've got work to do."

With that, the younger boy slid off the bed and bounced over to the rickety table where Dean was sitting, a slip of paper in his hands. "Alright, so you're supposed to fold clothes, make our bed, put your stuff up, take out the trash, dust, vacuums, clean both mirrors and the sink, and get more ice," Dean droned.

"That's all?" Sam asked hopefully, big, puppy eyes growing.

"Sammy, we still have to do PT and schoolwork. He just didn't bother putting them on the list."

"Dang it!"

"Sam! Watch your language."

"Sorry. Do you think we could trade lists?"

"You don't want to."

Suddenly those big puppy eyes welled with tears. "I can't do it, Dean! I can't!"

"Why?"

"I've got a ton of math homework for tomorrow. It's Pre-Algebra, Dean. I'm DEAD!"

"It's ok, Sammy. I'll do your homework for you. No one will know the difference."

"No!"

"What?"

"I like it."

"What?!"

"Learning new stuff is cool."

"I can't believe this."

"What am I gonna do?"

Dean used one of the four-letter words he'd heard Dad say when he was angry, causing Sam to look at him wide-eyed. Finally, Dean sighed. "Let's go do our PT real quick, then I'll take care of things."

When they came back in, huffing and puffing, soaked with sweat, Sam went strait to his homework like Dean had told him to as they finished their run. Dean went over to the beds, making both of them. Then he dusted, vacuumed, took the trash out, cleaned the bathroom from top to bottom. He changed the burnt-out lightbulb, replaced the batteries in the remote, washed, dried, and folded the clothes. Going out to the mini-mart, he grabbed some food, mostly tv dinners, and random items like floss along with several large containers of salt. Dropping by the hotel's office, he paid the bill and renewed his dad's request that none of the staff come snooping into their room. Afterwards, he went and checked the mail, gathering up credit cards addressed to people like 'Steven Presley', 'Mark O'Bradly', and 'Muhammad Ibn Rashid'. When he came back, he found that Sam was hungry. He found that he was too as soon as he had two sandwiches made up for them. Then he washed and dried the dishes. He checked the home-security system, focusing on cleaning the 9 mm that he'd gotten for his birthday, but also looking over the knife, bottle of holy water, and assorted odds and ends. Before long, it was time for dinner, so he heated up some lasagna in the microwave and spooned it out onto two plates. Finally, they were done and, after washing off the plates and silverware they'd used, Dean grabbed his schoolbooks and cracked the lids on them.

"Dean?"

"What."

"I need help."

A deep sigh. "What do you need?"

"These last few are really tough."

The sound of books being slammed shut. "Alright, hold on one moment."

A few seconds later, Dean pulled up a chair beside his brother and looked at the problems the younger boy was pointing to. "Yuck, fractions," he muttered, then he steeled himself up. "Alright, what's the problem say?"

"One-fourth plus one-third equals question mark."

"Ok. So first you have to make them have the same number on the bottom..."

It took the better part of two hours to get those last ten problems done. More than once, Dean had tried to just tell Sam the answer, but the younger boy wouldn't have it. "There's a test next week. I need to know how," he'd say. So after a while, Dean just bit the bullet and walked him through every step.

Now Sam was watching tv again, this time it was actually something semi-respectable; Power Rangers. Dean was more than half-tempted to join him, but he had a test of his own looming on the horizon. Anyway, the kid needed to go to sleep. "Sam," he called. "We've got school tomorrow. Time for bed."

"But?!"

"Now, Sammy."

"Fine."

It wasn't long before Dean and Sam were kneeling beside the bed, saying a prayer their mother had taught Dean before the night. One that Dean would soon forget. Then he tucked his brother in, turned off the lamp beside their bed, and snuggled into a corner of the room with his books. It was time to start studying.

--

2:34 a.m. John Winchester walked in. He had a few cuts and bruises, but nothing that required waking up his eldest for once. It was a rather nice change of pace. Nodding with approval, he noted that the boys had finished their chores. Walking over to the kitchen table, he found Sam's finished homework sitting out. Fool boy would probably forget it in the morning. Finding the boy's backpack, he shoved the papers in and zipped it up, before leaning it against the leg of the chair. Then he looked around.

Sammy was in bed, but he couldn't seem to find Dean. Finally, something caught his eye in the corner. Walking over, he found Dean asleep on the floor, the first page of his reading assignment serving as a pillow. Sadly, he shook his head. Somehow he got the feeling that school was never going to be a priority for Dean.

Stooping down, he cradled the sleeping boy in his arms and walked over, slipping him into bed beside his brother. He stood there fore a moment, regret shining in his eyes. Then he flipped the switch and the light went out.