Disclaimer - I do not own Supernatural or any of the affiliated characters/storylines. I am only responsible for what you don't recognize.

This is my first Supernatural fic, and it will be a two-parter (maybe three). there is a lot more going on behind the scenes for Dean than he's given credit for. This little number has been niggling inside my head for about two weeks now so I've finally decided to write it down. Let me know what you think.

For timeline purposes, though I don't plan to have any spoilers, this takes place mid-Season One. Definately before Shadow.

Enjoy!

-Elle

Untold - Part One

More brawn than brain and food addicted to the point of gluttony. This statement was often used, perhaps not in so many words, to summarize the character of one Dean Winchester. While Sam knew his brother wasn't an idiot, he could hardly refute the existence of a food addiction.

"Dude, take it easy or that burger'll be revisiting you." Sam watched in half disgust, half fascination as Dean put away his second bacon cheeseburger in a matter of minutes and topped them off with the large fry. Dean offered a wry grin before swallowing the last of his meal.

"You're just jealous you don't have my talent." Sam snorted.

"Right. I just thank God you weren't such a pig when we were growing up or we all would have starved with you around!"

The look Dean sent him was odd. His lips tugged into his patent sarcastic grin but this time it didn't seem to reach his eyes. Instead, the green depths flickered with something, a shadow of a memory, before Dean rose from the creaky bed doubling as his dinner table and the connection was broken.

Dean was six the first time his teacher asked him to stay in from recess to "talk". Only six, but already he'd developed an immediate dislike for adults who wanted to "talk." Despite this, he stayed at his desk, unmoving as the teacher pulled up a chair next to him. He'd been at the school for only two weeks, what could he have done that warranted no recess? Mrs. James must have read his mind,

"You aren't in trouble, Dean. I just thought you and I might get a chance to know one another."

The tawny-headed boy had been in her class an entire two weeks and had yet to utter a single syllable. Didn't raise his hand. Didn't ask to go to the washroom. Didn't leave his desk during free time. Nothing. In her twenty years, Mrs. James had never met a child as withdrawn as Dean Winchester. And she was determined to bring him out of his shell if it was the last thing she did. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out three chocolate kisses. The silver foil winked in the flicker florescent lighting. She held out her hand and waited. And waited.

"Would you like a chocolate, Dean?" She offered. Perhaps he needed some persuasion.

It had been two days since Dean had eaten anything. On Monday morning he'd had half a bowl of dry Cheerios for breakfast. He'd poured the other half bowl carefully back into the box, knowing that daddy hadn't worked for a while now and it was time to save food. Sammy needed to eat – he was a growing boy. Growing bigger every day daddy had said. Daddy didn't notice when Dean sneaked his food back into its source, hoping to stretch the meals out another few days. Pastor Jim was coming tomorrow and daddy was going to work. Then they'd have money.

So with his small stomach cramping and folding in on itself, Dean blinked owlishly at Mrs. James, expression blank and didn't reach for a chocolate.

Sighing, Mrs. James withdrew her hand and stood. "Okay Dean, you can go now if you'd like."

It was pure coincidence, in a way that things rarely were for the Winchester brothers, when they'd run into Billy, Janet, Paul and Lucy at the Cup O'Joy pub in Nowhere, USA. Sam was delighted. Seeing his college buddies made him nostalgic, melancholic and ecstatic all in the same breath. Without casting his brother so much as a sideways glance, he'd ushered them over and shoved his chair until he was almost in Dean's lap to make room for them. Forty-fine minutes later they were laughing and chatting like old times.

"I can't believe it, Sam, seeing you here after all this time." Paul spoke around a bit of onion ring.

"I know. It's unreal. But it's great to see you guys." Sam grinned around the table, basking in the warmth and memory his friends brought. He eyes fell to Dean, who'd been charming as usual, but unusually quiet.

"So what do you do, Dean?" Janet questioned, tone mildly snide as Dean found college kids were prone to be. He knew he practically had a sign stapled to his forehead that said "HIGH SCHOOL DROP OUT" and Sam-types tended to zero in on it.

"This and that." He flashed his teeth at her in a polite grin and snickered inwardly when he saw Billy's arm tighten around her. Relax pal, I aint't after your girl.

"So you're not in school then?" Billy's lips were feral, but Sam didn't see the threat, he only saw friendly conversation. This "friendly conversation" carried on along the same vein for another 15 minutes or so before Dean's patience had run its course.

"Well, scintillating as the evening's been, I'm beat. I'm going to head back to the motel." Thrusting the keys against his brother's chest, Dean turned from the table and didn't look back. Walking the seven blocks back to their room, Dean felt simultaneously jealous and happy for Sam. But was also annoyed. He didn't like sharing his brother. These people had had him for years, wasn't it Dean's turn yet?

It was two more hours before Sam wandered home, as it were. Seen his brother stretched languidly in his boxers under the sheet munching God-knows-what-this-time annoyed Sam and he let the door close a little harder than needed, drawing Dean's attention.

"Have fun?" His tone wasn't especially confrontational, nor was it particularly interested sounding.

"Yeah, Dean, I did. You know it's nice to socialize with people from time to time." Dean made a non-word grunt in acknowledgement that Sam had spoken, but his eyes had long since returned to the TV.

"They're my friends you know, not some strangers we just met. Would it have killed you to be a little bit more…social?"

"Maybe." Dean deflected, still focused on the flashing box and chomping on a cheeto.

"Dean!" Exasperated, Sam snatched the converter from his brother and switched the TV off before ripping the snack out of his fingers and flinging them to the other bed.

"Dude, what's your problem?" Finally, Sam had Dean's undivided attention.

"My problem?" Dean stared incredulously at him. Surely Sam was kidding right? His friends had all but asked Dean how he liked riding the short bus and Dean was the one with the problem?

" Why were you so rude tonight? They were asking questions about you, you didn't have to be such an ass!"

Dean inserted a "hey" before Sam continued.

"God, is it too much to ask to have a normal night out with normal people and have normal, intelligent conversation for a change."

Indignation washed out of Dean's face and hurt glinted in his eyes for a moment before the steel wall fell.

"No Sam," he spoke quietly, "I guess it's not. Sorry." With that, Dean switched off his light and slid further under the covers, back to a frowning, windless Sam.

"I'm concerned that your son may be having special difficulties, Mr. Winchester. It might be beneficial if he repeated the third grade next term." Dean sat quietly outside the classroom door, listening to Mr. Mahoney and his father talk. He knew his father wasn't happy about having to come to the school.

Have you been getting into trouble, boy?

The tone held the implication – I don't have time for this.

He didn't try to find trouble He tried to be good, honestly he did. Dean's teacher still yelled at him all the time though. Mr. Mahoney was a mean man. He'd complained to his father once, during the first week of classes. He was told him to respect his teachers, they were smart and they were authority. Dean was to mind them. Dean tried hard not to "smart mouth" his teacher. He really did. But sometimes, Mr. Mahoney would say things that didn't make sense and Dean would ask a question. Mr. Mahoney didn't like questions. Still, Dean tried his hardest to respect Mr. Mahoney. Even after he slapped him. Twice.

"What are you trying to say, Mr. Mahoney?" John Winchester was tired and he really didn't have time for this. Dead had never gotten into as much trouble at any other school as he seemed to here. Must be that age, John though wearily.

"Your son lashes out and he doesn't complete his work very…effectively. I think he is struggling. I hate to use the word, but intellectually speaking Dean isn't normal, he's….special. You can see yourself in the grades and his assignments." The teacher pushed a rather fat file across the table.

John knew his boy was no dummy, but they wouldn't be here much longer, raising fuss with the teacher would only cause undue attention. So he opened the file and appeared to consider it.

"I see. Maybe you're right then." Agreement was always the path of least resistance, afterall.

Outside, twin droplets fell before a small fist angrily wiped them away. His father was acquiescing to the teacher. Teachers were smart. They knew things about children.

They moved two weeks later and Dean didn't repeat the third grade. But he asked another boy in his class what "special" meant. Tommy explained it was what teachers called the stupid kids.

When Dean Winchester was nine, he learned to hate the word "normal."

A/N - Please R&R. Part two should be up in a day or so.