Okay, this is my new story based on my A Different Kind of Different shorts. This is gonna be my little pet story, and it'll probably get updated more than some others, but I'll try my best to be fair ^^ Don't worry, I won't forget any of my other stories!

Sam was diagnosed as autistic when he was little. John refused to accept that Sam was different. Since then, he's treated Sam basically the same way he treats Dean. Dean's the one who has to look after Sam and make sure he's okay. But one day, after one fight too many, Dean takes Sam and runs. Dean tries his best to look after Sam, but he may need the help of a kind stranger to do it and make his relationship with his father right. But first, Dean will actually have to trust the stranger...

I hope you enjoy the story ^^ I appreciate helpful crit, but if you're just going to flame me, then I don't really care. Anyway, read and review, and tell me what you think! Hugs to you all!

John swore and slammed the gun down on the table. The bang echoed through the dingy motel room, but Dean didn't flinch. He wasn't going to back down this time. He glared angrily at his father.

"Just shut up, Dean," John growled, his hand twitching over the shotgun.

"Why don't you shut up?" Dean shot back, folding his arms tightly across his chest "Why don't you think about what you're saying before you say it?"

John visibly struggled with his anger, finally managing to keep it under control. Barely. His face twisted in rage, he curled his hands into fists. Dean knew his father would never hit him, but knowing the strength that lay behind that fist made the teenager step back a pace instinctively.

"I'm the father. I'm..."

"Why don't you act like it for once?" Dean yelled, holding out his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

"Don't talk back to me!"

Dean opened his mouth to shout another retort when he heard a door open behind him. He turned to see Sam poking his head around the door, worry obvious on his face. He looked between Dean and his father, but settled on Dean.

"It's okay, Sam," Dean said, lowering his voice and forcing a smile "Go back to bed."

Sam nodded and took one more look at his father.

"Night. Love you, Daddy."

John glanced at his youngest son. The powerful anger distorted his features, and there was silence. Sam ducked back into his room with a sad look to Dean. Once the door was closed, Dean turned back to his father, all the anger returning like a storm.

"This is exactly what I mean! You can't even say 'I love you' to Sammy!"

John turned the full force of his rage-filled stare on his eldest son. Dean stared right back without looking away or flinching. Neither moved nor said anything for a few minutes, until John finally opened his mouth.

"Dean, I've just come back from a hunt. Can you please just leave me alone for a minute?"

Dean recognised the evasion tactic his father always used whenever the argument got too hard to continue. Silently, he fumed at how much of a coward his father was. He didn't want to lose the argument to his fifteen year old son, when he was supposed to know more about the world than Dean did.

John gave him a sharp look, and Dean finally relented. He didn't want to fight anymore. But he knew tomorrow would mean another fight, another argument about Sam. And the day after that. And the day after that. He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, glaring at his father.

"Whatever."

He stalked off, heading to the room he was sharing with Sam. He heard his father huff in frustration behind him, and his anger rose again. But he managed to keep it down.

Dean slipped into the room quietly, shutting the door with barely a sound. But Sam was still awake and sat on his bed. He looked at his older brother with confusion in his eyes, and Dean sighed again. He sat down next to Sam and put his arm around him. Sam leant his head against Dean's shoulder, the way he always did. It was a comforter for him, something that calmed him down. Being so close to his brother seemed to have a soothing effect on Sam. Dean rubbed his hand across the back of Sam's shoulders, and Sam closed his eyes.

"Why's Daddy mad again?" the boy asked.

Dean touched his head to Sam's, answering the question the way he always did. It always satisfied Sam.

"Because he's got a lot on his mind at the minute. He's got lots to think about. But he'll be better later."

Sam nodded slightly. Dean hugged his little brother for a moment, and Sam wrapped his arms around Dean in response. The elder smiled, then let go. Sam looked up curiously.

"Did Daddy not say 'I love you' because he was mad?" he asked.

Dean bit his lip, keeping back his rising anger. He couldn't get angry in front of Sam; he'd think it was his fault. Instead, he ruffled Sam's curly hair, making it stick up and fluffy. Sam pouted and pushed Dean's hand away.

"You'd better be careful, Sammy, or you'll get rats living in that mess," Dean smirked.

"Dean, rats don't live in hair," Sam said in a matter-of-fact tone. Dean grinned and shook his head.

"'Course they don't."

Sam smiled, and dropped his head back onto Dean's shoulder. He seemed to have forgotten about his previous question completely. Dean was neither surprised nor unhappy by that. It meant he didn't have to lie to Sam by saying 'yes'.

After a few minutes, Sam's breathing started to even out and slow. Soon, he was asleep, his head still resting on Dean's shoulder. Dean smiled slightly and gently lifted Sam up in his arms. He laid the boy down on the bed and pulled the blanket over him. Sam didn't stir, except to reach out in his sleep for something. Dean shook his head as he saw Dino on the floor. He picked up the stuffed dinosaur toy and slid it into Sam's grasping hands. Instantly, Sam pulled the toy to his chest and relaxed into deep sleep. Dean just watched him for a moment. He thought back to the fight with his father. It wasn't fair that Dad treated Sam like that. It wasn't his fault that he acted differently. But his father refused to see the problem and just pushed it aside like it didn't exist.

But it does, Dad. It does exist and it always has. Why can't you freaking see that?

Dean sighed and walked over to his own bed. He quickly changed into some track pants and a t-shirt before flicking the light off and sliding under the blanket. He stared at Sam across the room, his shape slowly forming in the darkness as Dean's eyes adjusted to the lack of light. Only the thin band of light from under the door lit the room, casting Sam in a slight glow on one side. Dean rolled over and stared at the ceiling. If only his father could understand what was going on.

/\/\

The next morning, Dean woke before anyone. He sat up slowly, to make sure he didn't wake Sam. The kid was fast asleep, clutching Dino to his chest. The blanket was half-tossed off, but he looked comfortable enough. Dean walked quietly to the door and slipped outside.

The rest of the motel room was lit only by the light from the shaded window. Dean wandered over and pulled aside the curtain, letting the morning's light stream in and bathe the room in a golden glow. Dean headed over to the cupboard and searched for something to eat. All that was left were a few Lucky Charms. He sighed and found a bowl.

"Dean?"

He turned to see Sam standing in the doorway, head slightly tilted, eyes heavy with sleep. His hair was ruffled and he rubbed his eyes. Dean smiled.

"Hey Sammy."

Sam wandered over to see what Dean was doing. When he saw the Lucky Charms box, a smile burst onto his face.

"Can I have some, Dean?" he asked, looking up at his brother with hopeful eyes.

Dean sighed, glancing from the box to his little brother. There was only enough for one bowl, and Sam had already eaten what was gone. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he poured out what was left into the bowl.

"Sure Sam. If you want."

As Sam sat down at the table to eat his breakfast, Dean leaned against the cupboards to watch him. There wasn't anything else in the place to eat. He'd find something later. He looked up as he heard a door opening and saw his father walking out. John looked at Sam, then Dean.

"He's eating them again?" he asked, in a tone of voice that wasn't quite pissed off, but came close.

Dean frowned, but kept calm for Sam's sake.

"Yeah. You know he likes them."

John huffed, "It's all he ever eats."

"That's what autistic kids are like, Dad," Dean said pointedly, getting his anger across the only other way he knew how; sarcasm "Maybe you should learn a little about it."

John gave his son a dark look, "Don't talk to me like that. And don't say stupid stuff like that."

"Like what?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Dean. Don't make me yell."

Dean growled, as Sam carried on eating, almost totally oblivious.

"What, that Sam's autistic? You know it's the truth, you're just too stubborn to see it."

John opened his mouth to say something when Sam looked up. He saw his father and smiled widely.

"Hey Daddy," he said cheerfully.

John glared angrily, and walked away into his room again. Dean bit back a curse and turned his attention to Sam. The younger was frowning, hurt. He looked to Dean with confusion.

"Daddy's still mad, isn't he?"

"Yeah Sam, he is," Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face in defeat. He pushed himself up and over to Sam.

"Come on, we gotta get ready for school," he said, waiting for Sam to finish his last mouthful.

Sam stood up and headed to his room. Dean hesitated for a moment before going for the shower. On the way, he passed his father. John looked down at him for a moment as Dean kept his eyes straight ahead. He knew if they locked eyes, there'd be an argument. It happened every time. He heard his father sigh as he passed, and Dean bit back his own frustration. It wouldn't help anything if he snapped and yelled at his father. Because it would be the millionth time he'd done so, and that was only counting since the beginning of the year. It never did a thing.

Once his father was out of sight and earshot, Dean leaned against the wall. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that his father wasn't being a father. It wasn't fair that Sam was his responsibility. It wasn't fair that Sam was autistic. And it wasn't fair that he was alone. That his father had all but given up on Sam, and his mother was long gone. Dean closed his eyes as he remembered the few snippets of memories he still had of his mother. She was beautiful, blonde with an amazing smile. She was nice as well – so nice.

Dean sighed and opened his eyes. There was no point in thinking of or wishing for something that was never going to happen.

So what did you think? R&R!