John Winchester raised his sons on the road. He hunts monsters, training his boys to shoot, the importance of lore, of keeping each other safe. Dean and Sam bounce from school to school, staying only long enough for John to kill the monster and find his next case. Dean's sixteen and constantly trying trying to convince their father that he's old enough now to leave school behind him, to help out on hunts on a more regular - and permanent - basis. Sam, now old enough for high school, has mixed feelings about it. Always eager to learn, yet almost always bullied, school's a mixed blessing for him.

As always, Dean's already sussed out the school bad-boy, rule-breaker extraordinaire, and as the trouble-maker of every class he's ever been in, Dean's set his sights on being in with the guy. Usually that's easy enough, and on occasions when it fails Dean does the next best thing; humiliates the kid and takes his rightful place at the top of the food chain.

Imagine everyone's surprise when it's Sam, sweet little goody-two-shoes Sammy, that the rule-breaking older kid takes a shine to.

Chapter One

"Dad, look." Dean began, clapping one hand on the roof of his father's '67 Impala and giving his most convincing half-grin, keeping his tone carefully casual while still compelling, "We both know I'm more than old enough, that I'm a great shot, that my sense of direction's impeccable and after Atlanta…" he rocked back on his feet, looking proud of himself and gesturing to his chest with two hands, "Well. We both know I'm capable of ganking a monster."

John Winchester was ignoring his oldest son, tinkering with something under the hood. Dean would know exactly what he was doing just by looking, and probably be able to help, but knew better than to get in his dad's way when it came to the car. And he totally understood it; she was a beauty, a genius of engineering and soul, sleek and black in the early sun outside their latest motel, with a purr in her engine to best any cougar. Dean more than loved the car. If, God forbid, there was ever anything to happen to their dad, there was no question who the car would go to. And it wasn't because he was the oldest, either. Dean gave her an appreciative glance-over as he steeled himself to continue.

"I can drop Sammy at school," he offered, nonchalant and using the kid-version of his brother's name to push the idea of their difference in age, "and then swing back and meet you. Wouldn't take long, and then we could have this thing dead in its own lair before school's even out."

He let the suggestion hang, trying to show he wasn't watching his father closely, pretending instead to polish the roof-edge of the Impala. His heart fell when John finally sighed and pushed off from under the hood, wiping his hands on an old rag before closing the hood with a sharp slam.

"Dean, we've talked about this."

Dean turned his eyes on his father, trying his best not to look bothered by the slightly irritated undertone of his voice, his expression a neutral mask that adults were so good at.

"I know." he answered evenly, meeting his father's gaze confidently, "But that was six months ago. I'm older now, I've got three kills under my belt-"

"Two." John corrected, one edge of his mouth lifting in a secretive amusement.

"Two and a half," Dean amended without pause, refusing to get drawn into a petty argument when he needed John to believe he was grown up, "and I'm learning more out there than stuck in a classroom and you know it."

John gave him an appraising look, from head to toe in that way that was maddening and intimidating in equal measure. Dean held his ground and kept his gaze levelled, even when a small part of him still wanted to look down at his feet and submit. Because he knew he was capable this time. He knew he was ready, had been for ages, and he knew that if he showed the slightest sign of weakness John would shake his head and shoot him down. And he really wanted to go on this one.

John sighed, tucking the rag back into the toolkit at his feet and then stretching as he stood. Then he folded his arms and sat back against the hood of the car.

"Dean." he said, and Dean knew already that he'd lost. "I need you at school for as long as you can stay there." He held a hand up when Dean opened his mouth, giving his son a chastising look, "There's still stuff you can learn there, and I promised your mom you'd get as good an education as I could get you."

Dean winced at the mention of Mary, finally breaking his gaze to look out at the car park of the motel, a twinge in his chest painful.

"And secondly, you know I need you where Sam is. I need you looking out for him. I can't go into a hunt when I'm worrying about him, you know that."

"But-"

"No buts, Dean. No ifs, no buts, no coconuts, understand me?"

Dean was sure that phrase was supposed to be funny, but said in John Winchester's gravelly no-nonsense tone it brought up less images of coconuts and sunny beaches than it did blood and bad things that go bump in the night. Dean sighed, looking at the hood of the car as his confidence began to fail him, stubbornly frowning regardless.

"He can take care of himself. He's not a little kid anym-"

"He's twelve, Dean."

"Thirteen."

John sighed, and the fighting darkness in his voice left, leaving him sounding stubborn and determined and inarguable all the same.

"He's still a kid, Dean. Don't tell me you think he isn't just to get out there. You might have been ready to dive out guns blazing when you were twelve-"

"Thirteen."

"-but Sam's different. He's more like your mom. He's soft, yet, and-"

"Sam's tougher than you give him credit for, y'know." Dean grouched, for a moment forgetting that he needed John on side to convince him because the slight directed at Sam distracted him, "You're always treating him like he's five, but the kid's got more guts than you think."

For a moment, John's face was a clashing mixture of pride and irritation, overtaken by a rapidly thinning patience.

"We don't have time to get into this." he said with finality, standing from the car and heading in the direction of the motel reception, "I'm going for a map. Get your stuff for school, and get your brother in the car by the time I get back."

Dean grumbled an affirmative, cursing under his breath as their father walked off. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and gave the front wheel of the car a petulant kick in frustration. Sam, having heard every word through their open window, gave a sigh and finished tying his trainers before tossing his latest book in his rucksack with everything else and shouldering it. Having already brushed his teeth and packed everything else, he flicked off the TV and grabbed his jacket from the coat stand when he reached the door. He gave the room a glance to see if he'd missed anything obvious, and tugged open the door to find his brother on the other side.

"Hey, Dean." he said, looking up just in time to see the resigned expression on his face morph into a grin.

"You ready?"

Sam returned the grin, shifting his rucksack on his shoulder and half-heartedly waving his jacket in his hand.

"Ready as I'll ever be. I hate first days."

At that, Dean's sunny grin softened into something more sympathetic and he clapped a hand on his little brother's shoulder as they made their way to the car.

"I know. Me too. But it won't be that bad. We're not staying long this time anyways."

Sam sighed, looking down at the gravel under his trainers and thinking how every motel in the country seemed to have the same taste in car park design.

"That's half the problem." Sam dared to breathe as he opened the rear door and dumped his stuff in before tipping his head to look up at Dean, squinting as the sun hit his face, "I hate always being the new kid. Why can't we just stay in the same place for a while? Just a year, so I can actually make friends and pass classes?"

Dean, who would almost always snort at him for wanting to enjoy school, instead gave a sigh this time, his hand resting on the top of Sam's door.

"You know we can't, Sammy. That's not how monsters work."

Sam hung his head and gave a sigh that sounded like it travelled all the way from his toes.

"I know." he murmured, slipping into his seat and letting Dean close the door for him. "I just wish we were normal."

He didn't expect what Dean did next. That's not to say in any way that Sam thought Dean was anything less than the best big brother a guy could ever have. But Dean was older, practically grown up. He was tough and dangerous and Sam pitied any bully who dared even look at Dean the wrong way. And believe him, he'd seen some pretty pitiable bullies in his time. Idiots who thought they could take Dean on. But Dean wasn't like Sam, and Sam knew that. And it was okay. Dean didn't really do heart-to-hearts any more. Not since he'd grown up. He called them chick-flick moments like there was something about them that tasted bad. Sometimes Sam wondered if it was all just an act to be more like their dad, and sometimes he was almost sure it was.

Whatever. It was okay.

But Dean surprised Sam right then by resting his arms on the roof of the Impala and leaning down until his face blocked the sun streaming in through Sam's open window. He levelled a big-brother look at Sam that was serious and honest and free of anything else.

"We are normal, Sam." he said, sounding like he was imparting some hugely serious piece of wisdom, his gaze making sure Sam listened to him, "You're the most normal person I ever met. It's just that what we do is something normal people don't usually know about."

And with that he was gone from the window. Sam watched him walk around the car to settle on the hood, looking out towards the reception area to wait for John. Sam stared out at the back of his brother's favourite leather jacket - the one that used to be their dad's - and caught himself smiling despite what he was about to have to do. Again. Nerves still flittered about in his abdomen and he still wished he could just skip today and be in tomorrow already, - at least being the new kid the second day wasn't so bad - but at least now he felt a little better.

Dean Winchester was the greatest big brother a guy could ask for. And for someone who hated chick-flick moments so much, he could be pretty good at giving them to Sam when he needed them.