New story! Yay!

Disclaimer: You know the drill. Only the plot line and my own made up characters belong to me. I'd mention how much I'd like for Sam and Dean to belong to me, but that's pretty overdone. Everyone says it.

So, this is Wee!chesters. Sam is 13 and Dean is 17. I know Sam seems a little young for a ninth grader, but when Dean was still in high school on the show flashbacks, Sam was too, so I went with it. :) I can definitely promise a little hurt Sam in the future... it's how he gets there that hopefully will keep you reading!


Flawed and Perfect

Water. That was the only thing that crossed his mind, but crossing his parched lips was Dean's name. How could this happen? "Dean..."

Sam tugged helplessly at the rope around his wrist. His face was bloody, but the crimson trail past his nose was dried and cracked because it had been about 24 hours since he'd last been beaten.

That was a complete guess, though, as Sam had no concept of time. "Dean!" He called, his voice cracking. At first there was no response.

Sam jumped when someone pounded furiously on the door. "Quiet! Or your brother and I'll come in and teach you another lesson!"

"No, sir." Sam whimpered. Water, he thought. Just need some water.

"What did you say?"

"No... Dad." Sam forced himself to say.

"That's right." Not so good of a dad when there aren't witnesses.

"Dean!" Sam cried again. The door crashed open and he was yanked up by the hair.

Sam sniffled and hung limply as the hot breath closed in on his ear. "Ya need to listen to yer father, boy." He welcomed the black retreat when a flurry of punches knocked him out cold and he fell to the cold stone floor.

"Disgusting." His older brother spat, staring at the drip of blood forming on the floor from Sam's nose. "That weakling's no brother of mine." He kicked Sam's nose with a sickening crunch for good measure.

THREE WEEKS EARLIER

Dean burst through the door panting, taking a seat on the bed with a cold bottle of water. With a sigh, he downed half the bottle in one chug.

He took a look around the small room the three of them were sharing. Dean was glad Dad had solved this case so quickly. It meant one less night in a crammed motel room stuck in the middle of the latest feud between John and Sam.

It seemed like lately Sam and Dad were growing more and more apart. The fights were more Jerry Springer show-worthy by the day, and Dean really wasn't sure how much more of it he could take.

"Dean? Sam? Is that you?" John called from the bathroom. Dean could hear the shower turn off.

"Uh, yeah, Dad." He didn't have the heart to tell him Sam had lagged behind a little.

John stepped out of the claustrophobic bathroom with wet hair. "Where's Sam?" Dean hesitated to answer.

Suddenly, Sam stumbled into the room, his shirt damp with sweat and his face red from the long run.

"Sam." John began, staring disappointedly at his youngest. "I thought you were running with Dean."

Sam talked between gasps of air. "I was- a little- behind." Dean handed him water and he took it gratefully.

"And if I told you to run in the middle of a hunt would you still be 'a little behind?'"

"Wh- no! Not on purpose!"

"Well you can just run an extra mile tomorrow. Then you'll never have to worry about lagging behind."

"But we're leaving tomorrow morning at five thirty!" Sam protested angrily.

"Then you better get up early." With that, the conversation was over and final. John pushed past Dean, muttering about the bar and grabbing his jacket and keys. Sam flinched as the door slammed closed loudly.

"I can't believe you left me behind like that!" Sam erupted.

"Me?" Dean questioned. "Come on, I saw a crippled turtle pass you!"

"That's not fair! You knew I was sore from yesterday!"

Dean sighed. "Yeah, I know." He had to admit, Dad had been working Sam really hard lately. Ever since the thirteen-year-old had reached the point where he thought academics came before hunting and training, which in this family meant that he was the troubled teen that didn't focus on the important things in life, John had been trying to break him out of the cycle or something.

Dean let it go, blaming Sam's emotions on teen hormones and the strain John had been putting on him. "Go take a hot shower, Sammy, it'll help with the soreness."

Sam smiled and despite Dean's persistence that he didn't need warm water, the younger brother made sure there was plenty for Dean to rejuvenate after his run, too.

The shower was refreshing, but Dean was still exhausted, retiring to his bed early. The glow of Sam's laptop illuminated the room like a nightlight as the typing away of the keys for the English essay he wouldn't even get a chance to turn in lulled him to sleep...

Dean jolted awake, and at first he couldn't place why. Then he realized Dad was back. Sam looked up from his essay, the pencil he had been chewing still in his mouth when he saw John's shadow pass the curtained window. He quickly closed his laptop and bolted for the bed. He'd only just dived under the covers when the lock turned and the hunter made himself known, staggering into the motel room and slamming the door carelessly behind himself.

On any other night Dean would be accusing his father of drinking irresponsibly considering he had two sons at home. Not to mention, how devastate they would all be if he crashed the car while drunk.

But tonight Dean's mind was on other things, the kind of things the older hunter would never notice, because he didn't know Sam's mannerisms like his son did. Dean knew what Sam chewing his pencil meant just as much as when Sam shoved his head under his pillow or tapped his foot hyperly. It meant he was upset, maybe even a little hurt, and that was something Dean couldn't deal with.

...

It had seemed like only a few minutes since John's arrival when the father was shaking him awake, before light had even thought of announcing itself through the cracks in the windows.

"'m up! 'm up!" Dean protested, flinging his covers back. "Sam back yet?" John shook his head.

"Oh."

Dean got dressed and ready hurriedly, packing his minuscule collection of personal items into his bag.

Five minutes until the preset leaving time, Sam shuffled in, his eyes barely open.

"Sam!" Dean called, hurrying over to his brother. Sam seemed okay, but his arms were covered in scratches. "What happened?"

Sam sat down on the bed. "I wasn't paying attention. All the sudden there was a car coming and I had to dive into the ditch."

Dean shook his head and chuckled. "Only you, Sam." Sam was peeling off his sweaty shirt and walking towards the bathroom when John poked his head in the door.

"We're ready. Sam, good, you're back. Let's go guys." Sam stared longingly at the shower as Dean threw him a clean shirt.

"Looks like you'll have to shower later." Sam nodded and slung his duffel lazily over his back, following Dean to the Impala.

John had the front seat piled with Bobby's stuff he needed to return, so, grumbling, Dean joined his little brother in the backseat.

John had barely turned the key when Sam fell asleep soundly, knees curled up to his chest in the tight space. He wasn't uncomfortable though. For Sam and Dean, there was no safer place to let their insecurities go for a while than their car.

Even though he had been teasing Sam about them sitting in the backseat together, he didn't move when Sam snuggled close to him, his head resting on Dean's shoulder. John looked back at them in the rearview mirror and made eye contact with his oldest. Dean smiled awkwardly and turned back as Sam made himself more comfortable in his brother's arms.

...

Dean's eyes opened slowly and he yawned, taking in his surroundings. His arm was aching, sore from keeping Sam's weight on it in the same position for so long. He looked out the window for a sign of where they are.

"You missed the Maine sign." John spoke up from the front seat. "Only four more hours." Dean sighed. Only? The car lurched as the hunter turned off into a rest stop. John parked the car and took the key out, telling Dean he was going to the bathroom. Dean nodded and gently pulled his arm out from under his sleeping brother, opening the car door.

Sam adjusted himself and groaned. He stretched and Dean ducked back in. "Hey, Sam."

"Hey." Sam rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Where're we?"

"Maine, finally. Four hours 'till Brownville." Dean looked up and saw John returning. "Look alive, Sam. And-" Dean hesitated. "Please, don't start something today. You know, it's Mom and Dad's anniversary." Sam grimaced.

"Yeah, I know. I-" Sam stopped talking when their father walked up.

"Dean? Your turn to drive." The perks of being seventeen? He's been driving for two years, now. But unfortunately that also meant taking turns during long car rides.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked as John transferred Bobby's things to the trunk. He went to argue about why he hadn't done that sooner but decided against it. Dean settled behind the wheel and soon they were on the road.

...

"Here we are: Brownsville, Maine." Dean sat up in the passenger seat and looked out the window. He'd only lasted a couple hours driving until John forced him to hand over the wheel. Now, they were passing Brownville High, and John pointed it out.

"You boys are going there starting tomorrow." He stated. Dean rolled his eyes. He was a senior this year, and honestly he wasn't learning anything, so he didn't understand why he still had to go. This was Sam's first year in high school, though. He was young and still small, not fit for high school as far as Dean was concerned. Too smart for it.

Sam's small voice piped up from the backseat. "Don't roll your eyes, Dean. School's good for you."

Dean laughed. "Ha! Sammy, we're hunters! Hunters don't need to know who the fifteenth president is or- or- what Harper Lee was thinking when she wrote To Kill A Raven-"

"Mockingbird."

"Mockingbird, whatever. Still-" Dean glanced over and his father was glaring at him. He gave a slight disapproving shake of his head and Dean stopped. "Not today, son." He said so only Dean could hear. He looked up at the picture of Mary sitting on the dashboard and his oldest followed his gaze.

"Sorry, Dad." John raised his eyebrows. "I mean, sorry Sam." Sam nodded.

"It's okay, Dean." Sam put his hand gently on Dean's arm. "I understand." He shook his head to get his bangs out of his eyes and sat back in his seat. Soon, they had chosen a motel and John was sitting his boys down to explain the case.

"There's not much to go on." The hunter began, taking out a load of documents and pictures. "A Mr. Yates was murdered in his home alone on Monday. The doors were locked and there was no sign of forced entry." He handed a picture to Dean, who kept it out of Sam's view. He looked disgusted and handed it quickly back to John.

"Why is he..."

"Dismembered?" John finished. "I think our killer has a very crude sense of humor." Sam snuck a look at the picture. The man's arms and legs had been ripped of carelessly, the bones sticking out and blood everywhere. Judging by his terrified face, he had died screaming. Sam looked away. There had been something else in the man's eyes Sam just couldn't place. Not just terror, but... confusion?

"...early. Sam? Sam, are you listening?" Sam jumped and looked up. "I said the man's son is in ninth grade. I'd like for you to get to know him."

"Yes, sir."

"And you two need to get to bed. I know tomorrow's already Tuesday, but school starts at seven fifteen."

"Yessir." The two obeyed in unison.

"See you boys tomorrow morning." John stood up and gathered his things.

"I thought it was best for all if we got two rooms this time." He muttered to Dean when Sam went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Dean nodded and gave a slight, grateful smile. He didn't want to deal with a single fight tonight.

...

John dropped them off outside the main building around seven. The brothers entered the building to a hall full of students talking and laughing. Sam looked up and saw most of them stop to stare at the strangers as they walked in.

"The principal's office is down the hall." Dean pointed, looking at the map Sam had printed off their website last night. Sam took a deep breath as they walked by the watching students.

"Names?" The receptionist asked when the walked through the doors marked M. Shepherd- Principal.

"Dean Winchester. And this is my brother Sam."

The woman pursed her lips and pushed her glasses higher on her nose as she checked. "Oh, yes. Your father called two days ago... Here are your schedules..." The printer whirred to life and both boys were handed a small sheet of paper.

"When's your lunch?" Dean muttered as they left.

"12:30. You?"

Dean looked disappointed. "11:30." He looked down at his worried brother. "Don't worry, Sammy." They both jumped as the bell rang shrilly and the halls became three times as crowded. Dean shouted a last word of advice but Sam didn't hear him as he was swept away by the crowd.

...

It wasn't until final period- Geometry- when Sam first got a glimpse of Mr. Yates' son.

"Warner."

"Present!"

"Winchester."

"H-here."

"Yates."

There was that awkward silence in a classroom when the teacher doesn't get an answer during roll call.

"Yates?"

Someone nudged the person across from them and a muscled boy looked up from his doodling.

"Here!" He bellowed. The teacher shook his head and finished the last couple names on the list.

When he was through, the man slowly closed the folder. The board behind him had Mr. Bonowski scrawled in sloppy Capitol letters. He was young, with messy brown hair and a pleasant smile.

"Before we begin, I'd like to introduce our new student, Mr. Winchester. Sam, welcome to seventh period Geometry." Sam nodded politely as the class turned in their chairs to goggle at him.

"I assume you all opened your books to the page I wrote on the board?" Sam looked around him at all the open textbooks and frantically turned to page 394.

"Well, you can close them." The class groaned and slammed their books shut. A few rolled their eyes.

"Maybe you would better understand this theorem in a more... teenage oriented way." On cue, a women from the front office brought in pizza boxes and the class exploded into cheers and excited giggles.

"But!" Mr. Bonowski raised his voice to gather the attention if his noisy students. "You must correctly identify the measures of each angle on your slice before eating." Sam smiled. He already learned this at his last school. He couldn't help it when a piece of pepperoni was slapped on his plate and his stomach growled greedily.

...

Dean had been waiting anxiously outside the front door for his brother for five minutes after the bell rang, tapping his foot against the step.

"Sam!" He pushed his weight off the wall when he saw his brother's familiar shape. "We have to walk back." He put his arm around his brother as they turned the corner, but Sam still didn't make eye contact. "How was school?"

"Good." Sam mumbled.

"Okay... So, classes all good?"

"Yes." He muttered. Dean frowned. "Regular chatty Kathy, huh? What about the Yates kid? Meet up with him?"

"Yes."

"And?" These one word answers were really starting to annoy Dean.

"After school. Said I was sorry about his Dad's death." Sam shuffled his feet as he walked. "He got defensive. And..."

Dean stopped and Sam followed suit, both boys standing expectantly on the worn sidewalk. "And then this happened." Sam finally looked up and Dean gasped.

"Sam..."

Sam's left eye was puffy and red, soon to be black, and swollen badly to where he could barely open his eye. His lip was split, and Sam looked back down ashamedly as they continued.

"How come, Dean?" Sam whispered as they continued. "How come we have to be hunters? Can't I just- just be normal?" This was old news to Dean, a question asked time and time again. His answer was the same as always.

"Because there's no one else stupid enough to do it."

Sam nodded as if in understanding, but the truth was, he didn't get it at all. Dad said they were brave, that this was meant for them, that they had to. But couldn't he have been a normal widow and let Mom's death be a freak accident? It was things like that that domino affected their entire lives.

Sam knew one of the only good things that had come out of hunting was their fighting skills. He hadn't expected Yates' son, Shane, to attack him, and caught of guard, he was easily defeated. But years of fighting Dean, who was taller and stronger, he learned to use his speed and agility to his advantage.

There was no doubt in Sam's mind that Shane was the bully of the school, and he vowed to himself that he would get even with the kid. Sam was sick of getting picked on- by Dean or anyone else for that matter- and Shane beating him up had been the last straw.

He could still hear Shane's taunts, still taste the blood in his mouth. His hand clenched into a fist as he walked. Shane was finally going to understand what it felt like to be on the recieving end.

...

Dean handed him a bag of ice and Sam flopped back onto the bed. "Thanks." He said from behind his hand. Dean nodded and sat down next to him.

"Did anyone see it happen?" Dean asked worriedly.

"No. Except for his own friends."

"No teachers?" Sam shook his head. He opened his mouth to continue when there was a solid knock on the door.

Dean put a hand up. "Stay here." He quietly grabbed his knife and crept over to the door. "It's Dad," He said, unlocking the door for his father. Sam stood up, prepared to begin explaining, but with one look at his father, his jaw dropped.

John Winchester was dripping with blood.


I know, slow chapter. Sorry. I promise it picks up. If you liked it, don't hesitate to review! And any criticism or mistakes in the plot line are welcome. I'm trying to stick to the facts of the show as much as possible. Thanks! I'll try to post next week (After a NEW episode! *Squeal!*)