*Author's note: Inspired by the song Everything by Ron Pope.

Growing up with an alcoholic father had really left its mark on Dean. His father was an angry drunk, and Dean was the only one there to take it out on. He repeatedly showed up to school with bruises on his body, black eyes, and split lips. He was an expert at coming up with excuses and no one questioned them. He didn't know if it was because they were believable or if no one wanted to help. He had a hard time being around other kids, making him an easy target for bullies. They picked on him mercilessly. In the second grade, one of the "cool kids" gave him a nickname, Freak, and it stuck. All of his classmates called him Freak until the day he graduated. He was sure if he saw one of them today, they'd still call him Freak. In the lower grades, everyone sat as far away from him as possible, claiming they didn't want to catch the "Freak Disease." If he accidentally brushed against someone, they would yell that they were infected by the Freak. It happened less in the upper years, but it still happened.

On the first day of junior high, Dean walked into the classroom to see that the teacher had assigned seating. When he saw that the desks were in pairs, he knew that he'd be sitting beside someone who had always hated him. He scanned the chart at the front of the classroom for his name. Luckily, he was sitting in the back corner, which meant less people would be able to throw paper or shoot spit balls at him. He checked who was sitting beside him and saw a name he didn't recognize, Sam Winchester. He was sitting beside a new student. He just hoped that Sam wouldn't be like the rest of his peers.

To his relief, everyone ignored Dean as they walked into the classroom. Every time someone came through the door, he looked down, expecting to be laughed at or mocked. He felt someone sit down beside him and when he looked, he saw a tall, gangly kid with a mop of messy brown hair and a rabbit-toothed grin. "Hi, I'm Sam," he introduced himself when he made eye contact with Dean.

"Uh… hi, I'm… uh, I'm Dean," Dean replied nervously. He didn't know what to do next. He was never good at initiating conversations and he wasn't used to talking to people in class. "Uhm, so… where are you from?" he chirped nervously, having noticed this kid had a completely different accent.

"I'm from Canada," Sam answered. "My dad got a new job down here, so we had to move. It's only been a few weeks, but it seems nice…" Sam yammered on about missing Canada but hoping that he'd like it here. Dean nodded, this was the longest conversation he'd had since school had let out, and one of the only ones where he wasn't called freak.

That was how Dean met his best friend. Some of the kids tried to convince Sam that he shouldn't be friends with Dean by telling him about Dean's nickname, but Sam didn't care. He politely told them that he didn't let other people's opinions affect his own. Dean warned Sam early on that hanging out with him would probably make him a target too, but Sam remained Dean's friend. Dean was right, and soon Sam was awarded a nickname by the class, Moose.

Sam and Dean had often talked about it since, and laughed at their former classmates' lack of imagination. Sam had embraced his nickname, and when they realized it didn't affect him, they stopped. Dean had never been able to forget the times he'd been made fun of or been pushed into lockers. The taunting voices of children still rung in his ears, only overpowered by the memory of his drunk father throwing him down the stairs, saying that he was worthless and would always be worthless. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hide from those memories.

In their high school years, Dean's friendship with Sam had evolved into something much more. Sam was his protector, both from the bullies at school and his father. Sam had no problem with standing up to people, and the physical abuse that Dean's father inflicted on him did not go unnoticed. After they'd met, the first time Dean came to school with a black eye, Sam didn't believe his excuses. Dean told Sam everything and he begged Sam not to tell anyone, his dad would only get more angry and drunk. Sam agreed, but a few months later, when Dean got to school with a broken nose and a fractured wrist, he couldn't keep quiet anymore.

When Sam got home, he talked to his dad about what was happening to Dean and his parents agreed that Dean could come over whenever he needed. No matter what time it was, they would be there for him. Dean quickly became part of the family. Around the time Sam and Dean started dating, Dean's father went on a beer run mid-binge and accidentally drove off of the bridge. Dean had no other family, and since he was almost an adult, everyone involved agreed that the best option was for Dean to move in with the Winchesters. The funeral was small, barely anyone showed up.

Dean had a rough past, and he still had nightmares because of it. Here he was, 24-years-old with a perfect boyfriend, and he had constant night terrors. Most nights, he would wake up at three in the morning to Sam stroking his head and whispering soothingly in his ear. Dean felt so guilty because of it. Sam didn't deserve to be woken up several times a night because Dean was having flashbacks. "I have to leave. I have to let him have a real life," Dean thought. That night, after Sam had drifted to sleep, he crept out of the bed and left.

The next morning, Sam woke up to an empty bed and a note on the bedside table. He picked it up and read:

Sammy,

I'm sorry. I had to leave you. Loving me is a big mistake. I've never loved myself, and you deserve someone who has more love to give you. All I've done is take from you, and I'm sorry if you felt like you could offer help to someone like me. Sam, you deserve so much more than I can give. I'm too broken to be right for you.

I love you, Dean.

Sam scrambled out of bed and quickly got dressed. He knew Dean, he knew exactly where he'd go. Sam got into his car and drove to the little park that was near Dean's childhood home. It was where he'd had the happiest memories, memories of his dad before he was a drunk, and his mom before she died. He saw Dean as he pulled up, his back towards the road. Sam parked his car and sat on the swing beside Dean.

"Sam, you weren't supposed to come after me," Dean said without looking at him. "I'm not good enough for you. I'm not good enough for anyone…"

"Dean, look at me," Sam replied firmly. Dean turned on his swing so he was facing his boyfriend. "Dean, I love you. I don't think you're broken. Tell me what you need, and I will help you. You're all I need, believe me. You deserve so much more than you've gotten in life. Your dad was wrong. Those kids in school, they were wrong. I can help you, Dean, if you'd just let me. You deserve the world." Sam leaned over and gave Dean a gentle kiss.

"I just feel so hopeless," Dean murmured, his voice breaking ever so slightly. "I've been thinking about the kid I was when I used to come here every day. If I met him today, he wouldn't even recognize me. I used to be happy, and the only time I'm happy now is when I'm with you, but I don't want to burden you. I don't want you to get sick of me."

"Nothing turns out like we think it will. What happened isn't your fault… none of this is your fault. Dean, I want to make you happy, I don't care if that means being with you 24/7, I will never be sick of you," Sam assured him. "I just want to give you everything."