"Just … go to school, you little bitch." Dean said angrily, frustrated beyond his usual limits. But, damn, Sammy could do that to a guy. For a kid just 12 years old, Sam had a way of sounding more like Dean's father at times than John did himself - "Who are those guys, Dean? Why you hanging out with them? I don't like them; they're gonna get you in trouble one of these days."

Sometimes Dean just got tired of all the drama. He was 16 for freak's sake. He shouldn't be answering to some bossy, 12-year-old bitch who thought he knew it all.

And he didn't mean it. Not really. But when Sam had started in again on the walk to school this morning, Dean was just OVER it. He shoved Sam away and veered off in another direction, determined to find a different route to Moseby Jr-Sr. High. It was bad enough he had to pass the little twerp in the halls all day and put up with the kid staring disdainfully at Dean's choice of friends.

He just couldn't listen to it walking in every day too.

It was too much to ask of a guy.

Sure, Dean considered himself an excellent big brother, and most of the time, he loved having the kid tagging along. Sam was smart, clever and way too mature for his age. He had good intuition too. But the truth of the matter was, Dean didn't want Sam hanging around his current group of friends. They were okay to pass the time with, but honestly, Dean didn't really trust them. They weren't guys he'd feel safe leaving his wallet with; he sure as hell wasn't going to leave his kid brother alone with them.

This was one of the worst backwater holes Dad had ever left them in, and it was slim-pickins for friends. Dean suspected that's why Sam hadn't yet made one. They'd been here for two whole months, and yet Sam still walked in and out of the school alone, eyes peeled only for Dean.

You'd think a good-lookin' kid like Sam would have a line of chicks trailing after him, but Dean had studied some of the girls Sam's age here, and he'd found them to be mean and spiteful.

Must be something in the damn water.

Thankfully, Dean wasn't as selective as his brother when it came to choosing friends to hang out with. Sure, they had foul mouths, they disrespected women and they sure didn't rate high on the intelligence scale, but they knew how to have a good time.

Sometimes, that's all Dean really needed - some quiet place to drink a beer or two and blow off steam with other guys his own age.

Funny thing was, usually the longer he was with his chosen group of buddies, the more he found himself missing Sam. None of them had the kid's sharp wit or his whammy comebacks. And Dean had to cut his own IQ down to size a lot of the time when he'd toss out an errant remark, used to getting one of Sam's mow-downs in return, and it would just hang there in mid-air - over everyone else's head.

That was typically when Dean would say his goodbyes and head back to the crappy, abandoned house on the edge of town where Dad had left them.

And Sammy would be there, studying by flashlight or candlelight, and shivering inside his sleeping bag. It made Dean feel guilty, and that just pissed him off more.

He was 16, he shouldn't have to worry about leaving the kid all alone while he had a little well-earned fun.

Dammit.

Dean glanced back once at Sam, standing alone on the sidewalk where Dean had shoved him. He had his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans and his shoulders hunched forward against the frigid wind that buffeted them both.

And the look on his face.

Dean knew that look. The kid was trying not to cry.

And there was that guilt again. It made Dean angry. He stopped and turned, facing his brother. "I mean it, Sam. Scram. Or I'll make you wish you had." He stood staring his brother down, silently daring him to say something, to challenge Dean's authority as the older, wiser brother.

But Sam didn't. He just gazed back at Dean with this lost expression on his face, then he turned silently, hiked his book bag up his shoulder and quietly crossed the street. Dean watched him until he turned the corner, never once looking back.

The older boy sighed. He'd have to make that right come this evening. Couldn't have his pain-in-the-ass little brother hating him.

Deep down though, Dean knew he wouldn't. Sam just wasn't that type of kid. Probably Dean could beat him every day for a year, and Sam would still follow him faithfully - big, sad eyes locked on his big brother in solid hero-worship. Dean didn't know why Sammy thought so much of him. It made him feel both proud and terrified at the same time. He hadn't earned that right - that right to be everything in Sam's eyes.

Truthfully, Sam was light years beyond Dean when it came to everything that mattered.

Sam was good. He was kind. He had a heart the size of Texas, and a brain that was even bigger. He could debilitate most anyone with one well-aimed remark too, but he'd never channeled his intelligence and his wit against his big brother. And he'd had plenty of opportunity. Against Dad? Sure. But never Dean.

And the older boy thought he knew why.

In Sam's eyes, Dean was the sun and the moon and all the stars in the sky. The thought made Dean snort. It was about as sappy as they came, but it was true. He had never, ever run across anyone as loyal as Sam.

Even when he treated him like crap on toast, as he'd just done, Sam wouldn't hold a grudge. He'd just come home and be a silent, calming presence until Dean deigned to speak to him again. Then the kid would act like nothing had happened.

Sometimes, he suspected that Sam felt he deserved to be treated like crap. Lord knew, Dad spent enough time telling him how unfocused he was, how unlike the hunter he needed to be. Dad criticized everything Sam did, good or bad. Somehow, nothing the kid managed to pull off was ever good enough for John Winchester.

And that made Dean angry. He had no idea why John couldn't see the amazing potential in his youngest. That was why he, himself, tried so hard to make it up to the kid.

But not today. Today, he was just … tired. Today, Dean wasn't even sure he felt like school. Hell, he might just find the guys and see who wanted to skip. He was sure at least one or two would be up for drinking beers under the bridge.

He smiled. That's what he needed: one whole day to himself to drink and cuss and talk about the girls he'd like to bang and to forget all about the responsibilities that came with being a big brother and a hunter's son.

Then, when he got home, he'd tell Sammy he was sorry and make it up to him somehow. Maybe they'd get a pizza. Sam would like that.

Dean turned and walked off to the pre-arranged meeting spot Darin had designated. The guys would be surprised to see him without Sam today, but maybe a little time and space between Sam and him was a good thing.

Dean had no way of knowing how soon he'd come to regret that final thought.