Vague incest (depends on your definition), this story will contain child abuse in the future (not written as it happens but it's eluded to and mentioned so if you're sensitive I'm sorry) And a little statutory (also depends on your country's laws, in mine it isn't really but some it may be so don't freak out)

THIS IS RE-UPLOADED. It was taken down because of the summary I think so I'm putting it back up :)

"Dean, eat your vegetables." John ordered his five-year-old son, a dark look on his face. They'd had this argument several times this week already and he was growing sick of it very quickly.

"NO!" Dean squeaked, shoving the plate away from himself violently. "I don't wanna."

John watched several peas bounce across the table followed by a slowly rolling piece of broccoli. His face was turning slightly red as he stared at them, tossing a look back at his kid. Mary piped in to ease John's rage a little, work had probably gone a little wrong today, she figured. "Dean, sweetheart, just eat them."

"No!" Dean shouted again, arms crossed defiantly over his chest, "They're yucky!"

"I don't care, eat them!" John growled back, shoving the plate to its original position. Dean shook his head and pushed them away again, earning another deep sigh from his father.

"Dean, if you don't eat your vegetables you won't get any pie." Mary argued with a condescending tone, watching Dean's face fall with horror.

"Then… Then I'll run away!" Dean countered; his pudgy face full with as much serious as he could fit in it.

John snorted, "Sure you will. Just eat them, or go to your room."

Dean stubbornly dropped out of his chair and stormed away, "I hate you!" He cried poutily, running up the stairs.

John rolled his eyes and exchanged a tired glance with Mary. They were both about to get back to supper when Sam suddenly decided to react to his older brother's yelling, the one-year-old flailed his tiny arms and screamed at the top of his lungs. Both parents cringed and mentally cursed as they decided who would tend to Sam's needs via rock-paper-scissors.

Several hours later Mary went to Dean's room to check on him, a little concerned since she never heard any ruckus up there. "Dean?" She slowly pushed the door open, being quiet just in case he'd pouted himself to sleep. Upon first inspection the room was dark and there were lumps in the bed but none of them seemed to be Dean's shape. She walked in and looked around, "Dean?" She asked again, louder this time.

John sat on the couch with a beer in hand, staring at the television blankly, it didn't matter what was on he just wanted to relax. His moment of peace was shattered when he heard Mary screaming upstairs, running back and forth up there and, by the sound of it, tearing things apart. "Mary?" John shouted, getting up and walking over to the staircase. "What's going on?"

"Dean's not in his room! He's not anywhere!" She cried down at her husband frantically, hurrying to another part of the house. John scrunched up his face and started looking on the main floor, thinking that Dean was probably hiding from them and just fell asleep.

After searching the entire house over twice and the backyard a few more, John called the police; his son was missing.

Months went by but the Winchester's never stopped looking, spreading their search further to other towns and surrounding areas; someone had to have seen Dean, they just had to. They looked and looked, waited for some kind of call but nothing came. It had been three years since Dean's disappearance and they had to accept that he was gone. A small funeral was held for him, immediate family was invited though many of them thought it was a waste of time to do it so late, in their eyes Dean was dead a long time ago. Everyone was dressed well but the Winchesters wore their very best, even buying a suit for little Sammy.

John stared down at the casket as they lowered it, tiny and empty. He hadn't even managed to find his boy to do him the respect of burying him, to get him out of nature's way and bring him home. John stood tall, holding Mary as they watched people toss dirt onto their first born, his grip solid and strong as she cried. It wasn't until her father came to see after everything was done that John had a moment for himself. He stepped beside the freshly moved soil and trembled, tears finally able to fall now that most of the family had departed and Mary had gone with Samuel and Deanna.

John fell to his hands and knees, an anguished cry ripping from his throat. He cried out, his hands balling into fists, leaving him with handfuls of grave soil instead of his little boy. "You don't have to eat your vegetables if you don't want to…" He stuttered, heart aching like someone had gone 10 rounds with it. "Hear me, Dean? You don't have to eat them… Just come home… Come home…"

"Daddy?" Sam whispered, just barely four years old and watching his father break apart, mumbling something about vegetables. He slowly walked to the grave stone set up and looked at it, everyone had been telling him this was his brother Dean and they kept saying he was going away. Sam wrapped his small arms around the stone as best he could, squeezing it lightly.

John, though wracked with pain, cleared his throat and asked softly, "Sammy, what are you doing?"

"Mommy said Dean was going away so I'm saying goodbye." Sam said with his cheek pressed to the cold slab. "Goodbye, Dean."

John reached over and pulled Sam into his lap, arms encasing his youngest tightly, head hung and resting against Sam's tiny frame.

In the next year John and Mary had decided that Sam needed a brother, they didn't want their kids growing up alone, it's why they had two in the first place. They adopted another child by the name of Castiel who was only a few months older than Sam; they couldn't have one of their own, it felt right to take him in, it felt better.