Disclaimer: I don't own Sam and Dean, they own me!

Rating: K+

Beta: Vonnie836


"But Dad, please. I need this money. If I don't submit it within this week, they won't let me go on the geological trip." Sam pleaded with his father in a pitiful voice, but John Winchester remained stoic as always.

"Sam, how many times do I have to tell you that I can't afford money for this kinda luxury? I can't give the money to you." John softly answered but his voice was firm.

"But Dad, it's only a matter of fifty dollars." Sam didn't want to whine. Winchesters don't whine and he was a seventeen year old young man. Boys of his age usually don't beg for such measly amounts of money. But when it came to Winchester majesties, the situation reversed. Here you had to give enough explanation why you needed money, except bearing for foods or mere belongings. Study, school-projects, tours, when it concerned money, John wasn't ready to give any single bit of it without having enough reason… 'butting heads' were the right words according to Sam. Sam had to literally bend down to his knees, if he needed some really small amount of money for something. Sometimes Sam wondered, if John was his real Dad or not, because he had never seen that Dean was having problems with his Dad or earning money. It looked like John always was bound to be ready to refuse Sam for anything he wanted.

Speaking of earning money, Sam didn't have permission for going in a bar or somewhere where he could have played pool or worked in a shop or diner. It didn't mean that he was unable to do such work, once he had worked in a local diner as a waiter but the job had gone horribly wrong. First of all, Dean had been utterly p*ssed, when he'd found out that his little brother wanted a job for making money because it was his job to take care of his little brother. He knew that his brother had grown up really fast and now he was officially taller than him; but still, he was his little Sammy and always would be. So, it wasn't Sammy's job to make money for their livelihood. But being a son of a Winchester, Sam didn't budge from his decision and kept pressuring for permission. After so many annoying pleas and arguments, John at last gave him permission…ignoring Dean 'what the hell' glare.

"Dad, what the hell? Why are you giving Sammy permission for that crappy job?" Dean sounded really harried.

"Dean, come on. I am not a child anymore…" Sam interrupted irritated.

"Shut up Sam." Dean squinted his eyes to his father. "…Dad?"

"Ask your brother. He is driving me crazy and if he gets involved in some work I can do my job in peace." John sat down heavily on the worn out couch and booted up the laptop.

"So that means if he starts b*tching about anything…" Sam started to argue but stopped when Dean gave a death glare'Shut up or I will shut you off'he clamped his mouth shut; "…you will give him anything just to get rid of his whining."

"I don't whine…" Sam muffled.

Dean gritted his teeth and deliberately ignored hisquerulous little brother and asked his father in an angry tone.


"Oh c'mon Dean, cut me some slack, wouldja'?" Now John was frustrated. He put the laptop beside him and looked straight at Dean's green orbs. "I am here for a job and I need to concentrate on it. You know how dangerous a soul eater could be? And still now I haven't found out a single thing about that witch or whatever it is." John's voice was rising in octave. "Five people died in one month and if we don't get rid of that thing, God knows how many will die in the crossfire. And if Sam wants to do a part time job, then let him. At least he will stop frying my brain."

Sam's face was beaming, though he was not happy hearing his father's choice of words about him.

Dean's mouth hung open, hearing his father's speech. He stared at him disbelievingly for a couple of seconds and then blurted. "But Dad, you know this town is not good enough. Besides, there is only one diner nearby and as far I know some regular gangsters visit there." Dean sounded worried. "I don't think that is good place for a teenage boy like Sammy."

"What do you think of me Dean? That I can't defend myself? I am a Winchester damn it." Sam angrily yelled.

"If you cuss one more time Sammy, I will clock your big mouth." Dean warned and Sam was fuming in anger. He clenched and unclenched his fists several times but remained muted.

"Dad, I don't think this is a good idea letting Sam go for that job." Dean heatedly said.

"I do think it is and I will go. Dad gave me permission." Sam spat.

"I didn't."

"Who died and made you boss?"

"You can't go."

"I can and I will."

"Why are so interested for that job?"

"I need money."

"I will give it to you."

"How long? And besides, I can earn my own money. I'm not dependant on you."

"Sam, if you bad mouth with me again, I will…"

"Hit me, I am ready for it. Do you think I can't pay you back?"

"Sammy that's enough."

"Its Sam."

Now John had had enough. He could not be bothered with his boys arguing endlessly like this. He was frustrated. God, his both boys were stubborn like hell. And besides, Sam joining some local job wouldn't hurt anybody. And it would help them to collect some extra bucks for their livelihood. After all Sam wouldn't be in some crappy bar, working in the local diner wouldn't be that bad.

"Enough boys. Stop butting heads. Dean back off, Sam shut your mouth." John commanded.

Both boys squirmed a little and looked at their father. John rubbed a weary hand over his face and told, "Okay Sam, you can go for a part time job." Sam smiled winningly and Dean's face fell in defeat.

"But Dad…"Dean opened his mouth but John stopped him in mid way.

"Dean, it's okay. He will be fine and besides it will help us, if he earns some money." John supported his youngest.

Dean's mouth hung open in shock. He couldn't believe what his father was saying.

"So, now you're gonna use your son for making money? Real heroic Dad." Dean was fuming in anger.

"Watch your tone with me Dean and I'm not using anyone. If Sam needs money for his school or anything, he has to earn it anyway. You can't baby him every time, he is big boy now."

"Yeah." Sam added and Dean's anger rose a few degrees higher.

"Okay. Two against one, huh!" Dean punched angrily on the couch and spat. "If something happens, I am warning you Sam…"

"I will see."



Both brothers turned away from each other and strode off.

Later that day, Sam went to the local diner and accepted his job. He was happy, because he was going to get fifty dollars for a week. The diner was actually quite good, but sometimes a couple of bikers and gangsters came there and made the whole diner real noisy and awful. Dean was right about one thing, those bikers were dangerous and everyone at the diner was scared of them. Sam was the youngest of everyone and quite shy and he didn't bump on them. That didn't mean that he was afraid of them. He just needed his work, he didn't want to face them and boy, those bikers were really huge.

The first two days went really well, though Dean was quite anxious about his brother. After their bitter argument, they didn't talk to each other, except the most necessary. But Dean was worried. He knew that the town wasn't as good as anyone could expect. Besides, there was a witch or soul eater or whatever the thing was wandering around freely and they didn't have a single clue about it. They came to this town almost a week ago and the research was showing a neat result of perfect zero. And now this, Sam's constant b*tching about taking a job that was too risky for a young boy like him. So yeah, Dean was practically worrying to death.

Three days after Sam took the job Dean got a phone call around 5 in the afternoon. He was at a bar at that moment and swigging beers. He frowned when he saw an unregistered number on his phone but took it anyway.


"Hello, is this Dean?" An unknown voice asked.

"Who wants to know?" Dean annoyingly asked.

"Listen, I am Sean calling from 'Corby's Diner'. Is Sam your brother?"

After hearing Sam's name in that manner Dean's protective gear sped up high.

"Yes, what's with my brother?"

The voice answered. "Well, your brother got involved in a fight with some local gangsters and they beat him real bad. After we threatened to call police, they ran away. But your brother is hurt pretty bad and kept calling your name over and over. Should we call an ambulance or wait for you?"

Dean already bolted from his seat and ran to his car. "No, no, no, I'm coming, I'm coming." Dean revved his car.

"Is he conscious?"


"Okay, try to keep him awake, I will be there in a bit."

By the time Dean reached the diner, he left his baby parked haphazardly at the side of the road. He strode into the bar and saw people gathered around at one place and he knew what or who was the reason for the gathering. He ran to the spot and found his little brother sprawled on the floor, his face smeared with blood, one eye blackened. "Oh God Sammy," Dean took his injured brother in his arms and ran his hand over his body trying to detect, if he sustained any other injuries. But fortunately he found none, other than some heavy bruising. His heart felt a little lighter when he saw Sam's eyes fluttered opened and he whimpered.

"Sammy, Sammy you okay!"

"D'n?" Sam whispered though he sounded slightly unsure if it was really Dean or he was just hallucinating.

"Yeah, it's me Sammy?" Dean wrapped a protective arm around his brother and asked the manager who called him earlier. "What happened?"

"As I told you before, some bikers came here and messed with your brother. Well, they usually do that to everyone but we always stay ten feet away from them." The manager said and looked at Sam, who lay bloodied in his brother's embrace. "But this boy fought with them, when they tried to mess with him…" The man beamed in excitement, "…boy, you should have seen him, when he clocked those jerks straight in their mouths…"

'That's my boy'Dean couldn't help but felt proud of his little brother but didn't say anything. He carefully pulled Sam up on his feet and guided him to the car. His heart felt sore whenever he heard Sam whimper in pain, but intense anger at his brother was gradually mounting. "I warned you Sam, I knew it this would happen. Now look at you. You freak."

After that bitter incident, Sam was strictly forbidden to go out anywhere without permission and taking a job was out of the question. John was highly p*ssed at Sam after that, though he was feeling guilty that he was the one who gave Sam permission to take the job after Dean's enormous warning. Speaking of Dean, Sam was literally afraid of him the first couple of days and obeyed everything he ordered. If he tried to protest just a little bit, Dean pulled the card, 'I warned you and you didn't listen. Now you have to listen to everything I tell you' and after a while Sam begun to get p*ssed at him too. And now his Dad was on Dean's side and Sam once again was dependant on them for money and everything else, which he didn't like at all.

This was the story of almost six days ago, and now Sam Winchester needed money again. And they were practically out of bucks. It had been a rough week and they had to waste a lot of money for research and other crap. And now Sammy needed some money for his excursion and he had only five dollars left. That all sucked. And when he had asked his father for some ahh help, he had clearly been refused. 'no', 'can't waste money for luxury…', 'no job either', etcetera etcetera. If Sam opened his mouth to argue they stopped him mid way. 'You didn't listen to us before, and see what happened;' 'no way'…and then all Sam wanted to say was, 'Just shut the hell up', but unfortunately…he couldn't.

Now where were they, oh yeah…

"But Dad, it's only a matter of fifty dollars. Please Dad, it's a matter of my grade. I will loose marks if I don't go on that trip"

"Doesn't matter Sammy. Besides, it's only a short test." John calmly answered. "It won't kill you if you don't get to go to that trip."

"It's Sam." Sam grumbled, and he added'I hate you' in his head.

John chuckled. "Okay Sam. Why don't you research a bit more about the witch hunt? I could really use some help."

Sam's face contorted in anger after hearing John's clear refusal. He gritted his teeth and snickered. "Gotta go to school. See ya later."

Sam snatched his backpack angrily and stormed out of the room

Sam was walking with his hands jammed into his jackets pocket. It was a cold afternoon and a frosty gust of wind was blowing and chilling his bones through the thick layer of sweaters and jacket. It was almost past five, he knew he was literally late for home but he ignored it.

Today he had spent an awful day in school. Everyone in his class was going to the Geo trip except him. His friends were driving him completely crazy by questioning him why he wasn't going? It was a matter of a couple of dollars. He somehow managed them by mumbling some incoherent answers, but he was angry as hell. Only fifty dollars…man, a father should spend such a small amount of money for his children. At least let him earn it; he knew he screwed up big times with his job and he couldn't blame his father and brother for not letting him go for a job…but still, they should have thought of something. And those kinds of things happen, that didn't mean he wouldn't be able to do such jobs ever again in his life.

Sam shivered as the bone chilling wind blew again and looked at the evening sky. It was getting darker and thick black clouds were gradually obscuring the western sky. "Looks like rain is coming" Sam mumbled and quickened his pace.

The road was almost deserted. Only one or two cars were passing by and people were scattered here and there. Almost all shops were closed, God knew why. And the people of the town were looking scared. Well, those disappearances were making people real afraid Sam thought. And still now they didn't have a single clue about that witch. She must be too clever and hiding in plain sight and that was not a good thing for hunters; especially for Winchesters.

Sam seemed to be lost in his thought, when suddenly he noticed an old man crossing the road, his hands full with canvas, paint brushes, color bottles and suddenly wobbled as the loud honk of a car startled him. Sam watched in horror that the old man seemed to be glued to the ground and the car was coming at him…

"Oh my God…"

Sam dropped his backpack and ran to the old man. When the car was about to hit the old man, Sam skillfully tackled him to the ground and rolled away. Sam grimaced as he felt his knees and ankles were badly bruised and stung like hell.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked as he got up and carefully hauled the old man to his feet.

"Yea…yeah…" The old man panted in heavy exertion. "…that was close. Thank you young man. You saved my life." He brushed the dusts off his clothes. "You seem new here boy?"

"Yeah." Sam took those fallen drawing tools and handed it over to the man. "My name is Sam Trescott. Me and my family came to live here couple of days ago. Here are your things."

"Thank you. I am Mr. Timothy Williams." He watched Sam grabbed his backpack and winced. "Oh boy, are you hurt?"

"No sir, I am okay." Sam smiled reassuringly but his knees were bleeding through the torn jeans.

"No no, you are bleeding son. Come with me, I live at the next block. I will patch you up." The old man worriedly offered Sam.

"No Mr. Williams, you don't have to worry. I am okay. I really am…"

Sam's voice cut off, as Mr. Williams interrupted him. "No Sam. You saved my life, at least let me do something for you. Come with me boy."

Sam sighed and looked at his watch. He was late; but still had got an hour to go home. "Okay then," he softly answered and followed the old man.

Upon entering in the old man's house Sam stood stunned. It was a beautiful bungalow surrounded by a huge garden. The house was big and the furniture was looking quite modern and comfortable. What amazed Sam most were the portraits which were hanging on the wall. There were lots of portraits and all of them were of young men and women. They were all life sized and drawn beautifully, like they were actually alive persons…not made by brush and colors.


The old man smiled seeing the young kid's reactions. He put his belongings on a table and went into the kitchen. After giving Sam some antibiotic cream and band aids, he sat on a couch in front of Sam.

"You like those pictures, Sam?"

"Yes, they are awesome." Sam sounded so amazed. "…You made them?"

Mr. Williams smiled. "Yes. I am a painter. But I made them long ago. They were all beautiful people and gave my best sittings for live drawing."

"Yeah, I can see that." Sam got up and stood in the front of a portrait. It was a lady's picture and she seemed to be in her early twenties. Her entire limbs and expressions were drawn perfectly.

"Thank you but you know what; now-a-days people don't want to sit for a live portrait. I haven't drawn anything since last month."

Sam quietly paced to another picture of a young boy like him. He raised his eyebrows; the person in the picture was looking real familiar to him but he could not remember where he had seen him. He startled when he became aware that Mr. Williams was telling him something.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Sam asked.

"I said will you give me a sitting for my next picture? You are so beautiful and I could use your face for my next picture." The old man said gently.

Sam blushed and his cheeks became red. 'Beautiful, what the hell is he talking about? Chicks are beautiful…not me.' He thought and answered politely.

"Thanks for asking but I don't think I am that good for a picture."

"Oh no young man, you are way better looking than my other models. You're just being polite boy. I would really like to draw your picture. That would be my best drawing ever."

"No, no sir. I don't think…" Sam fondly tried to protest.

"I will pay for your per sitting young man. Twenty dollars for a sitting." Mr. Williams offered him.

"What?" Sam was clearly astonished now.

"Yeah. What do you think I won't give you anything when you are giving your best pose for my painting? I always pay my models. Every painter does that."

"I…ah…" Sam was confused now. 'Man, twenty dollars for a sitting! That means I could easily earn fifty dollars before my trip.' Sam was thinking fast.


Sam looked at him and set his mind, 'Not a bad deal after all' and said, "Alright then. But how many sittings do I have to give?"

Mr. Williams seemed to be thinking for a while. "Well, maybe four or five."

'That means almost hundred dollars. Cool.' Sam was beaming in joy inside but didn't show it. God, that must be called a miracle, when he really needed some money and begging his heart out to his father. Suddenly this opportunity, no 'golden opportunity' came to him and he was going to earn more than he needed.

"When do I start?" Sam asked.

Mr. Williams carried a canvas in the middle of the room and set all the tools. Then he dragged a beautiful couch in the front of the canvas and told, "Now. Well Sam, you ready!"

"Ahh…yeah!" Sam suddenly was looking little nervous. He had never faced this kind of situation but the amount of payment had really shaken him. After all he was a teenager.

"Okay then. Sam you just sit relaxed alright!" Mr. Williams set his position up and went to his canvas. He picked the led. He measured his model thoroughly and quickly drew an outline of the young man.

"Where the hell is Sam?" Dean cried angrily and punched the call button of his cell for the fifty third times. It was almost 6:30 p.m. and he had seen no sign of his little brother. He even went to his school but there was no sign of his baby brother either. He searched the whole area but got no clue where his brother was. He called his father and now was frustrated as hell. Dean knew his brother was p*ssed about the trip but no way in hell he would run away for this kind of minor situation. He was not just any usual teenager.

"Damn it. Where are you Sam?" Dean cursed after his call went to his brother's voicemail again. He swerved his car towards their motel and hit his father's number.

"Dad, you found 'm?" Dean asked worriedly.

'No son, and he isn't answering his phone.' John answered.

"Don't you think I know that little fact already, Dad? Of course he isn't answering his damn phone. I am so gonna kick that little b*tch's a*s when I got him." Dean was rambling in utter frustration and worry for his brother.

'Where're you Dean?'

"I'm on my way to the motel Dad, gonna check if he returned. I will call you later." Dean flipped the phone shut and headed to their recent destination.

Dean parked his impala in front of their room and entered, hoping to see his brother there. But no such luck. The room was empty, showed absolutely no sign of his lanky geek brother.

"Sh*t. Where the hell are you Sammy?" Dean almost screamed and threw his cell phone on the bed. When he was ready to go outside again, the door suddenly opened and someone entered.

"Sam?" Dean called and the figure looked at him.

"Where the hell have you been you stupid brat?" Dean strode to his brother and grabbed his shirt's collar.

Sam stared at him for a second, like he was trying to recognize him or something. Suddenly his facial expression changed and blotted in pure anger. He roughly shoved Dean's hand off his collar and growled.

"Don't you ever talk to me like that, you understand?"

Dean was shocked. What the hell was he hearing? Was that really Sam or someone else? His little brother had never talked to him that way. And he was bellowing like Dean was the blameworthy one.

"Shut up Sam." Dean bawled in anger. "I have been worrying about you since afternoon and now you're p*ssed at me? Don't you think this is something I should do?" His fists were twisting viciously.

"I am not your stupid pet or something. I can do whatever I wanna do. So, suck it up." Sam lips were trembling violently in pure anger and hatred and his face became three shades pale.

Dean couldn't remember when he had last seen his brother this desperate and reckless. And he was mouthing off continuously at Dean, when he should have been apologizing.

"Sam, you better watch your mouth…" Dean warned.

"Or what…?" Sam spat vehemently. He didn't have ant idea why his anger was rising this much. He knew it was entirely his fault and Dean was right about everything, but he just couldn't control himself. It was like every time he looked at his brother, intense anger was bubbling in his veins. "…you gonna hit me?" Sam was breathing dangerously shallow and hot, eyes wide and red; he cursed out loud. "…f*** you Dean?"

Dean's mouth hung open hearing his sensitive, mild natured, sweet mouthed little brother curse this intensely. He would have never imagined that Sam would say something like that to him. He gritted his teeth and slapped Sam's cheek hard.

Sam wasn't ready for the blow and when it came so suddenly, he stumbled backward and grabbed the corner of the nightstand.

Sam was bellowing furiously. 'How dare Dean hit me? HIT ME?' He was feeling like he was on fire and any moment his head was going to explode. He quickly gathered himself and shoved Dean hard on his chest all of a sudden.

"I gonna kill you…" Sam shouted when he shoved his brother.

Dean was stunned seeing his brother's sudden erratic behavior. Sam was fighting with him, cursing him and most shockinglytelling him that he was going to kill his own brother. Sam was acting like he was insane; he was kicking, throwing punches…every possible thing to defeat his brother. This wasn't the Sam he knew, this wasn't his little brother who practically worshiped him.

Dean skillfully dodged each erratic punch of his brother and kicked behind his left knee. Sam grunted and his legs buckled. Dean caught his brother's arm tightly and practically sat on his flailing legs.

"Sam, Sam what's wrong with you? Sammy?" Dean screamed as he watched how Sam suddenly turned pale and his eyes moved frantically. Suddenly Dean gasped in utter horror, when he watched Sam's nose start to bleed without warning and his struggles become less frequent. Dean's heart dropped when he saw Sam's eyes roll back in his head and his limbs become completely lax in his confining grip and he screamed in terror…



Okay, this is a short story and only one chapter left (probably). Let me know what you think about it. Please review. Reviews make a story better and your kind words, suggestions mean a lot.

Thank You. Ritu.