Dedication: to my mother, a truly wonderful woman who taught me nearly everything I know. Mom, I know the majority of my teen years were difficult. Two stubborn women in one small house is too much for peace. But you carried if off with style.

AN: This is non-Rose verse, post last episode of Season Three. Non-betad so... don't hate me. Disclaimer: I own nothing but Ms Walker.

Three weeks after burying Dean, Sam finally got the courage to go through his brother's things. Bottle of Jack in hand, he warned Ruby on pain of a demon killing knife to the gut not to come in till he called the next day, and he sat down next to Dean's duffle.

He found the usual: Extra ammo, favorite gun, clothes (mostly dirty), porn, spare change, Dad's journal, National Enquirer, porn, flask, peanut m-n-ms, and porn. But in a side pocket, carefully folded and preserved, was a green piece of construction paper.

Gingerly, Sam pulled it out and stared at his own childish scrawl.


Ms Walker leaned over her desk to watch her students straggle in. She loves every one of her precious, mismatched-sock-wearing, shoes-on-wrong-feet, first-graders but she secretly admitted to be especially fond of Sam Winchester.

Who was running unusually late.

When he came in ten minutes after the bell rang he was smiling as usual, followed closely by his older brother, Dean, also as usual. "I'm sorry I'm late, Ms. Walker! I couldn't find my socks."

"You're not the only one, sweetheart," she said with a smile. "Sam, do you mind coming to talk to me before class starts?"

"Is he in trouble? "Dean asked immediately. "Because it's really my fault he's late. I forgot to pack his lunch last night so I took a long time this morning." (She noticed that he had one brown bag instead of two in his hands)

"No, no," she reassured him. "I just need to ask him what he wants to do today. Sam's been such a good boy that I thought he deserved a bit of say-so in what he does for art."

She wasn't sure which Winchester boy looked happier at her praise.

"Ok," Dean said, visibly relaxing. "I'll just out his lunch his cubby for him. I'll be outside after class, Sammy."

"Dean?" Ms Walker asked as he was leaving. "Where's your lunch?"

"Buying today."

She knew that was a lie, but she wasn't going to say anything. There was already a grown man living in that fifth-grader's soul.

She turned her attention back to Sam. He'd only been there two months but she'd fallen in love with with his messy hair, big smile, and bigger dimples.

"Sam," she said seriously. "Do you know what Sunday is?"

His face fell and he kicked the desk a little. "Mother's Day."

She knew his mom was dead. She knew he lived with a nomadic type of father. That was why she was so hesitant about the day's plans. ""I was going to have the class make Mother's Day cards, but if that would make you sad, I won't."

He looked very serious for a moment, clearly thinking hard. "That's not fair. Can I just do something else?"

She ruffled his hair affectionately, resisting the urge to laugh when he attempted to reflatten it. "Anything you want."

"I'm gonna draw a car!" He laughed, then looked at her with that same, serious expression. "Can I ask you a question, Ms. Walker?"

"Of course, Sam."

"What's a mothers job?"

Heart breaking, she answered him the best she could. "Well, they take care of you when you're sick or scared. They tuck you in at night, fix you food, protect you, check under the bed for monsters. And they love you."

He frowned. "But, Dean says, all that stuff, that's what a big brother is supposed to do."

"Usually it's a mom. But it can be a brother or a sister or a dad."

He nodded. "Thank you."

Later that day, during art, she saw him working very intently on something curiously card-shaped, occasionally asking her how to spell words. When he was done, she asked to see it, feeling a lump form in her throat as she looked at it.

On green construction paper was card with a crude drawing of two children outside of a long, black car on the front. Inside it read, "Dear Dean. Thank you for doing all the wrong jobs and not caring that your not mom and your the best big brother ever. HAPPY BROTHERS DAY! LOVE SAMMY!"

*End Flashback*

Grown-up Sam looked at the card he'd made back in first grade. He barely remembered Dean staring at it, calling him a sissy, but taking him out for ice cream later.

Clutching the card to his chest, he wept for the first time in three weeks. For the first time in his life, he cried himself to sleep without his big brother telling him it would be all right.