Outside Seattle, WA. 25th April 1990.

John Winchester slung his bag over his shoulder and turned to the door of the spacious, clean motel room.

"You boys be good. None of that fighting crap. You know the drill," he said quietly to his eldest as his younger son slept one of the two large beds.

"Yes, sir," the eleven year old said solemnly. John fought back a small smile and turned to leave once again. A small tugging on his shirt made him stop in his tracks. Sam, in Dean's old Batman pyjamas which almost swamped the poor kid, was staring up at his father with those damn eyes that resembled a lost puppy's too much. John tried to conceal a sigh. Sam didn't like it when his Dad left, so John preferred to leave while he was sleeping. It meant leaving at night, but at least he could be ready for the case by morning. At least he didn't experience the complementary guilt that came with those puppy eyes. It was selfish, John acknowledged that. It meant Dean was left to break the news to Sam once more and reassure the boy. As far as John was concerned, his eldest was better at dealing with Sam anyway.

"Sammy," John shook his head and knelt beside the six-year-old, "Get some rest. It's late."

"Are you going away again?" Sam's voice was almost a whisper as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously.

"Yeah. I gotta job to do. But I'll be back soon," John ruffled the young boy's hair with a smile. Sam threw his arms around his father, and John immediately returned the gesture and hugged him close, "Make sure Dean takes care of you proper, right?"

The youngest Winchester nodded, "I will, Daddy."

"That's my boy," John chuckled, patting Sam on the shoulder and looking up at Dean.

"Lock the door after me. Don't open it for anyone. Don't leave this room unless it's to get food. Don't let Sammy out of your sight," John nodded, "Got this room for three nights. Should be back in time. Should be enough cash for another night if you need it. And if you need help..."

"...Call Pastor Jim or Uncle Bobby," Dean recited in a bored monotone. Too many times he'd heard it all.

"That's right," the driven father frowned at Dean's tone but wasn't in the mood to call him out on it. He allowed Sam to hug him again, and he pressed a kiss on his dark locks of hair. Sam buried his face in John's leather jacket, taking in the smell as much as possible before he was forced to let go. The leather aroma was soothing to the young boy. He felt safer, despite feeling safe just with Dean around. Yet Sam still had fears of abandonment, that Dean would get so sick of him that he'd walk out and never come back. He'd had these nightmares several times.

As John stood up, Dean tried futilely to get a hug from his father as well. He held his arms up a little, but John merely turned away and refused to acknowledge the action. He's too old for that, John grumbled in his mind, shutting the door behind him and going out to the Impala. The boys heard the familiar roar of the engine, and the rumble growing quieter and quieter until it faded into silence.

The younger boy let out a small sigh, a sigh that seemed too old for a six-year-old, and sat down on his bed, grabbing the small, battered bear he'd let go of he'd slept. Dean shook his head and looked away. Sam had had a bear when he was a baby, a small one with soft dark brown fur and blue eyes that Mary had tucked beside him every night since his first night home from the hospital. It was probably destroyed in the fire as Dean had no memory of it since. When John had taken the boys to a town around thirty miles West of Sioux Falls, Sam, then only two years old, had discovered a small teddy bear under one of the motel beds. The thing was covered in a thick layer of dust, and John told the boy sharply that it wasn't his and so he couldn't have it. Dean however, took no notice. The two-year-old's bottom lip had stuck out as fat tears streamed from his blue-green eyes, his little hands clutching desperately at the abandoned teddy. The older brother had cleaned the bear vigorously until it was completely dust free before handing it back to his little brother. Sam immediately began to smile through the tears. John was disapproving, insisting that Dean was stupid was letting Sam get himself attached to a "damn piece of fabric", but the smile on Sammy's face as he clutched at his new possession made it all worth it to Dean.

That bear had been with them ever since, and helped the youngest Winchester get to sleep. As a toddler, Sam struggled sleeping through the night, often waking his brother and father with his cries or climbing into Dean's bed on the rare occasions they got a bed each. With that teddy, however, the sleep problems literally disappeared overnight. Dean was grateful to whoever left that bear behind, whether they missed it or not, for helping Sam feel just that little bit safer in the world he really should be afraid of.

Sam hugged the bear to his chest for about a minute, stroking the slightly matted fur rhythmically with his index finger.

"Dad's gonna be alright. You know he is. Just got another mechanic job," Dean said quietly, "It's your fault for waking up."

Sam ignored him, lying on his side and pulling the bed covers over himself.

"Night, Dean," he mumbled, voice muffled from the covers.

"Night, Sammy," Dean watched his brother for a little while as he curled up in a ball and fell asleep before following suit.

Shifting of the bed covers and the creaking of bed springs woke Dean from an awesome dream that faded within seconds. The mattress dipped as Sam climbed into his big brother's bed, immediately attaching himself to Dean with his face buried in his shoulder. The older boy sighed softly and wrapped an arm around Sam. Nightmare, he concluded, saying nothing but waiting for Sam to doze off again before trying to sleep himself. Not that he could. Sam shifted too much, mumbling nonsense and moving all over the place. Dean lay there, staring into the darkness, no sound but Sam's slow, quiet breaths and the creak of the bed as he moved. He was just glad Sam was getting some rest.

Morning finally arrived and Dean had grabbed about two hours sleep at the most. His eyelids struggled to stay open, and his head ached a little, drowned out by the wave of nausea that hit him hard. Sam, however, was curled up with his bear, holding onto Dean's arm.

Dean didn't have the heart to wake his brother, but he needed to get breakfast. He'd gone to get them some food without Sam before, only to return to his little brother scared out of his wits from waking up on his own. He couldn't put Sammy through that again.

He gently shook the young boy's shoulder, and Sam groaned and shoved him tiredly in response.

"Sleeping," Sam mumbled, voice muffled from talking into the pillow.

"C'mon, Sleeping Beauty. We gotta get breakfast," Dean smirked at his brother.

"Later," Sam rolled over and curled back up into a ball again. Dean rolled his eyes and snatched the bear from his arms. The six-year-old was up in a shot.

"Give him back!" he whined, jumping and trying his hardest to grab it. Dean grinned tauntingly and waved it way over the smaller boy's head.

"Fine! Fine! We can go now!" Sam glared, catching the bear as Dean dropped it, "You're a jerk."

"And you're a bitch, but you don't see me complaining. Besides, I'm your big brother. It's my job," the older brother looked at Sam triumphantly, "Go get dressed."

Dean strode into the bathroom while Sam ruffled through his clothes in his duffel bag. After making a pile of clothes he'd need to ask Dean to take to the launderette, he finally pulled out a pair of jeans he was sure he'd only worn once since the last wash, along with a clean flannel shirt. It was a hand-me-down from Dean, as a lot of his clothes were. But this one was Sam's favourite. It had been a favourite of his big brother's, and although Sam didn't admit it out loud, he liked feeling like his big brother when wearing that shirt.

Once dressed, he folded his pyjamas onto the pillow of his bed, and then dug around in his bag to find his comb. He'd never owned a comb before, until he found one left in another motel room. John was certainly not a fan of Sam's growing collection of motel lost property, but Dean did his best to defend him. The young boy had so little possessions, what harm would a comb and a few other objects do? Is it so wrong for him to want things he could call his own seeing as his father had rarely given him anything? Wasn't like the kid had found cigarettes.

Sam carefully combed his hair, staring at his reflection with a look of concentration. He brushed his bangs into place before placing his comb safely back into his bag.

Dean and Sam ended up with a box of Lucky Charms between them and a juicebox each. No bowls or spoons, they ate straight from the box and bickered over who was eating the most. The elder Winchester craved some bacon, a greasy bacon sandwich smothered in ketchup, just like the one he'd had a few towns back when John took his boys out for breakfast. Sam had annoyed Dean by wasting the opportunity, wanting only Lucky Charms. The miniscule amount of money provided by their dad meant Dean had to be careful with money, meaning bacon sandwiches were completely off the table. The eleven-year-old had learned the importance of saving money the hard way, when just over a year ago he spent almost all their money within a day. The remainder of that stay involved Dean sacrificing his own food for Sam, but once that ran out he resorted to stealing and even going through trash cans. He'd since perfected the art of stealing, unbeknown to John and Sam.

"Dean?" the younger Winchester said through a mouthful of cereal.

"Yeah?" Dean looked away from the old war film he was watching on TV.

"Will Dad be back for my birthday?" Sam sounded hopeful and looked briefly at the TV screen.

"Sure he will," Dean gave him a reassuring smile, "Your birthday's like a week away, he'll be back before then."

"Promise?" Sam leaned back on the couch, eyes a little wide.

"Promise," Dean sighed, shaking his head. For all he knew, another job would come up, meaning John has to leave Sam on his birthday. He hated making promises to Sam that he wasn't sure he could keep, but he also hated seeing him worry.

"Can I have a birthday cake?"

Dean didn't even answer.

The youngest Winchester boy took the motel paper pad and used his pen – another motel find – to draw. He didn't draw often, but for once he decided against fighting Dean for the remote, and he wasn't in the mood to read. He would have liked to explore the town they were staying in, maybe see if they had a park, but he knew John didn't like the boys leaving the motel unless to get food, and even then he expected them to be quick. The boy didn't understand that rule, but he daren't question it.

Sam drew a picture of Dean in a Batman costume – he knew how much he loved that character – and himself as Superman. He envied those superheroes. They could do whatever they wanted, they weren't afraid of anything. They saved the day and were loved by so many. That life was so much more appealing. The six-year-old didn't feel brave at all; he feared monsters that he wasn't sure existed, he was afraid of the dark and of being alone. Sam's only friend was Dean, who he looked up to and almost completely relied on. Their differences in interests, however, made Sam wish his school life was more consistent. He wanted to go out and help people and save the world but was instead confined to motel rooms of varying degrees of quality, without even being allowed to go outside. He'd much rather go stay with their Uncle Bobby, who indulged the boys in ball games and fun stuff that boys were meant to be doing at six and eleven. Sam looked forward to trips to Uncle Bobby's more than anything. It was the closest they had to a home.

Sam placed the finished superhero drawing on the bedside table, now with the addition of a wobbly, scribbly-drawn city for him and Dean to protect. Dean glanced over at it and picked it up.

"Is this us?" he said, looking at Sam with a look of approval, "Are we badass superheroes?"

"Yeah," Sam answered shyly.

"Sweet," Dean grinned, "Sam and Dean defending the Earth. Good job, Sammy."
Sam glowed with pride as Dean kept it beside him on his bed, occasionally glancing away from the TV to smile at it. Dean couldn't help but feel proud that his brother saw him in such a way. Yet he still worried about the day Sam would be told about John's real job. He'd been fed lies about John being a mechanic that travels all over – how would Sam take the truth? Would he still consider his big brother a hero when he finds out his big brother lied to him about something so big?

Once the movie was over, Dean gave Sam the remote controller and allowed him to choose the channel. As he did, Dean took the opportunity to get them some lunch.

"I'll be back before you know it, Sammy. Just don't open the door-"

"-to strangers. I know, Dean. I'm not stupid.

Dean smirked, "I know you're not. Smarter than me already."

"Can't we get a McDonalds?" Sam sighed.

"Sam, I've told you before. McDonalds is only for special occasions. Maybe for your birthday," Dean left out the fact that McDonalds didn't quite fit in their budget.

"Can I get a Happy Meal for my birthday? And an ice cream?"

"Sure thing, Sammy. And get an awesome toy with it. Sound good?" Dean counted the dollar bills and put them in his pocket.

Deducting the amount of money for an extra night should they need it, the boys were left with $10 exactly. Ten dollars to feed two boys for three days.

Sam settled on the old armchair in the corner of the room, watching some cartoon on TV while Dean left to get to the grocery store around the corner. Looked like Cheetos and discounted bread rolls were going to be lunch, beside the chocolate and Pepsi he'd slipped into his bag discreetly.

Sam grinned at his the sight of Cheetos, it had been week since they'd had any, snatching them up and opening the bag in an instant.

"Hey, don't hog them!" Dean said sternly. It wouldn't be the first time he missed out on a treat from Sam's lack of the concept of savouring. The six-year-old ate a few Cheetos before holding the bag out to Dean. The older brother smiled, took a few himself, then unwrapped the two bread rolls.

"Want a cheeto sandwich?" he whispered, ripping open the rolls and stuffing cheetos in each. Sam looked a little hesitant but took a tentative bite from the strange sandwich.

"It's good!" Sam's eyes lit up with wonder that seemed a little strange over a sandwich, taking another bite, "You're a genius, Dean!"

"I know," Dean winked, wolfing his own sandwich down, "Got some more too."

He presented the chocolate and Pepsi, breaking the bar in half and letting Sam take first sip of the Pepsi. Sam grinned and ate his share of the chocolate a little too fast with the overall excitement of having it. He looked a little disappointed, regretting not eating it slower. Dean broke off a square of his half and handed it to his brother, who practically nibbled the piece to savour it as long as possible. Dean was just glad Sam didn't question the cost of things, but feared the day he would begin to.

The rest of the day was spent lounging and watching TV, for once taking turns to choose the channel. Dean secretly wished he'd swiped a newspaper for the TV listings too.

Dinner consisted of leftover Cheetos and Pepsi, but a quick trip to the vending machine outside added potato chips to the mix. Sam ate a mere few of each before falling asleep, curled up on Dean's bed. The older boy rolled his eyes and tucked him under the blankets before getting into Sam's bed to sleep himself.