Dean Winchester never had much of a childhood, no trips to amusement parks, no neighborhood kickball games in the front yard, no snowball fights in the backyard, and the first time we went to see a mall Santa he was 15. Dean grew up on the road, and he grew up fast. His mom, Mary, died in a house fire when he was four, leaving his Dad to raise him and his little brother. John Winchester wasn't around enough to do much parenting. The family drove from town to town, staying in crappy motels while John worked odd jobs leaving Dean to "take care of Sam," as John told him. They were never in a town for more than a month before John and the boys would pack up what little they had and drive away in the '67 impala that happened to be the most important object in the universe.

By the time Dean was 12 he'd been to every one of the lower 48 states. No matter how many roads he'd traveled on, how many motel rooms he'd slept in, or the number of roadside diners where he scarfed down a bacon cheeseburger, there are some things Dean Winchester will never forget. No matter how hard he tries.

He'll never forget the words John said to him when their house was burning down in November of '83, Take your brother outside as fast as you can - don't look back. Now, Dean! Go!

He'll never forget the words his brother said to him when he asked why they don't have a mom, Dean; everyone else at school has a mommy. Why don't we? It's only us and dad.

He'll never forget when Uncle Bobby told him the real reason they traveled so much. Your folks got into some messed up shit, boy. Things went south, fast. That fire, it wasn't no accident. Arson. Your daddy's been trying to find who did it, and keep you boys safe at the same time.

Dean will never forget the day John found out, the day the secret that Dean had been keeping under wraps for years was brought out into the open. He's tried to forget it. John acts like that day never happened. Dean can't. Dean can't block that memory no matter how hard he tries.

Summer, 1996, Spearfish, SD:

"So you new in town?" The young cashier asked the older Winchester boy, who looked up. "You have that look. Where you from?"

"Hey. Enough with the questions okay." The man, Eric, if his name tag was correct shut up as Dean handed him a 20 to pay for the pack of soda and slice of pie Dean was treating himself to. It's not that often Dean buys things for himself, Sammy always comes first. John had dropped Sammy off at Bobby's place before coming to town. Dean refused to stay at Bobby's, he loved his brother more than anything but Dean knew it would do him good to have a break.

"How long you in town for?" Eric, apparently did not know the concept of "shut up." Dean didn't feel like asking again, so he was left with two options, take his shit and walk away, or answer the guy.

"Dunno, few weeks maybe." For some reason, unknown to him, Dean felt like talking.

"Well, if you want, I'm done with work in..." Eric turned his head to look at the clock behind him before continuing "ten minutes, I can show you around if you like, got nothin' better to do." It just so happened that Dean had nothing better to do, either, so he agreed. Ten minutes later, Eric appeared outside the convenient store next to where Dean had been waiting.

"Didn't even catch your name," Eric deadpanned, not necessarily asking for one.

"Dean. Just Dean." He responded. Eric looked up at him with a certain sense of curiosity in his eyes, there was something about Dean that was different, not in a bad way, just in a way, something mysterious, something in those green eyes that was calling his name.

"Good to meetcha. Eric, in case you didn't read the name tag. How old are you anyways?"

"How old do ya think?" Dean rarely gave straight answers.

"Seventeen, eighteen ish?"

"You'd guess correct. Seventeen, I'm guessing you're sixteen?"

"Yes I am. We walking?" Eric gestured for Dean to start walking down the side walk, and the Winchester complied.

That's how it started. In a convenient store in Spearfish, South Dakota, where Dean Winchester met a guy named Eric.

That first day, Eric and Dean walked around town, Eric pointing out the local hangouts, and forcing Dean to have some ice cream (and let Eric pay) at The Skinny Cow, the "best ice cream in the state" as Eric called it. It was nice, Dean for once in his life felt "normal," he felt free. No father still out for revenge on who killed his wife shouting out orders ever minute, no little brother to look after, just Dean. John was "working", Sam was at Bobby's, this was good. He could get used to this.

For two weeks it was Eric and Dean. They would walk the town, drive around in the Impala, and for the first time in Dean's life, he felt like he had a friend. However, Dean wished it was more. Dean had tried, for years, to ignore it, suppress it, thinking maybe it'll change, but it can't and it won't. Dean knew the moment that he saw Eric, that all those feeling and urges would come running back. That's why, it was almost no surprise to Dean when he ended up pressing Eric against the wall of the alley next to the convenient store where they first met. It was no surprise when Dean closed the gap between them by pressing his mouth to the other boys, and that his hands found their way to Eric's hips as their tongues battled for control.

For the next week, that's how it went. Eric and Dean. They took the impala to the drive in, but wandering hands and tongues were much more interesting than the movie. They went bowling, and they're both pretty terrible, but regardless, Dean was happy, at least for a while. He knew that in a couple weeks he'd be gone again, back on the road with John and Sam, and he dreaded it. He didn't want to leave.

Eric's parents were out of town the last weekend, the boys wound up tangled in arms and legs the next morning. Dean got up early enough to make pancakes, and despite the fact that he was at his "boyfriend's" parents house, and they were out of town, and god knows what John would say if he knew, there was a sort of homey feeling to it all.

Then came Monday, the weekend was over. Eric's parents would be home that afternoon, so Dean left, and Eric insisted on driving with him back to the crap motel him and John were staying in. That's when it all went south. When Eric followed Dean into the motel room, for a final goodbye, as they both knew Dean would be leaving town later that day. There they were, lying on Dean's bed, kissing. Kissing like they would never be able to kiss anybody ever again, kissing like it was the end of the world. They were kissing in such a way that proved that they loved each other, without ever having to utter the three words. Dean lost all track of time, because Dean wanted time to stop. He was forced back into reality when the door slammed open, and the boys jumped apart.

"Get out." John Winchester commanded Eric, "Put your shirt on, and get out, and if I ever see your face again, you'll be dead." Dean froze. He couldn't move, even if he tried. He looked up at Eric, who was grabbing his shirt, and heading out the door, Dean's green eyes pleading, begging, holding back tears and saying goodbye all in one. Dean knew that it would never last, he knew he'd leave Spearfish sooner or later, and head out on the road again. He had hoped that that was how it would've ended, not like this. Never like this.

"What the Hell‽ Dean. What the Hell‽" John looked disgusted at his son, Dean felt ashamed. He'd let John down. Dean wasn't the type of guy to scare easily, but there are two things he's terrified of, disappointing his father, and losing Sammy, and that day in 1996 he'd accomplished the first one.

"I didn't raise you like this! It's not right Dean! Stop it. If I EVER see you with a man again, you'll be dead to me. Get your shit, put your shirt on, we're leaving." Dean never even looked up from the floor as he pulled his shirt over his head, and threw his crap into his duffle and waiting for John outside. Dean fought hard to fight back the tears, "Men don't cry," John had always told him. Men don't cry.

The only sound heard on the way to Bobby's was the impala's tires on the road, and whatever song was on the radio. Not a word was spoken. There was no eye contact. Only tension, disappointment and shame filled the car.

By the time they pulled into Bobby's driveway nearly six hours later, Dean had managed to keep the tears back, all he wanted to do was get out of that car, away from John, and hug his brother. That's all. He ran out the car the moment it stopped, right past Bobby to Sammy, and hugged him, tight, and promised to never ever let him down.

"Dean. Sam. Upstairs now. I need to talk to Bobby." John didn't even bother to so much as say hello to Sam, didn't even look at him. The boys did as they were told, to some degree. They lay on the landing on the top of the stairs, and listened.

"Dammit Bobby, I didn't raise my kid to be a fag."

"John, calm down, listen, I'll take care of the boys for a while, you go, you and Dean some space."

"Fine, just Bobby, if anything happens, call." John requested and he headed back out the door without even saying goodbye.

That's how it happened. That's a month Dean will never forget. He repressed it. He never so much as looked at a man in that way again. He never went back to Spearfish, never tried to contact Eric, and never mentioned anything to Sammy. John never mentioned anything either. Dean convinced himself it was a phase that was all. Dean convinced himself it was wrong. Dean convinced himself of a lot of things, all of them were wrong. However, like many phases, they come back. Or they aren't phases at all.