A/N: If you came here expecting scene after scene of brotherly love, you're in the wrong place. I've AU'd the whole dang Supernatural canon. The boys are teenagers, and by that I mean teenaged Jensen Ackles, not teenaged Brock Kelly (ugh!). On the plus side, I really like Colin Ford as Sam.

And just a reminder: this is an AU, which is what I write most of the time anyway, so please don't PM me complaining about how OOC the boys are, or that I got some obscure timeline wrong. AU, remember?

Warnings: Rough language ahead.

Summary: It's the end of the world as we know it: Dean explains it all to John. Dean and Sam were always searching for new ways to get rid of each other, and John never knew it. Evil Teen!chesters.

POV: Dean Winchester

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. This is for entertainment only, and not for profit.

Dude, that devil's trap you painted on the ceiling is a classic! Too bad something like that doesn't work on something like me.

Oh, come on, Dad, don't glare at me like that. I'm not gonna kill you. That isn't what this is all about anyway. I'm not possessed. Yeah, I know, you don't believe me, right? Once you realize that I'm telling the truth I'm guessing you'll try to gank me first chance you get after I turn you loose from that wall. Good luck with that.

If I ever turn you loose, that is.

I know you're curious, right? You want to hear why all this happened, don't you? I thought somebody should know the real deal.

I don't hate Sam. I don't. I just don't want to share anything with him, that's all.

I remember the taste of blood as I laid in my crib. I know, people don't think that young babies can recall stuff like that, but I do. It tasted sweet and salty at the same time. Better than mother's milk. I'd see those yellow eyes looking down at me, and I just knew I was gonna get a taste of the good stuff. When he smiled at me the skin around his eyes crinkled just like yours used to do.

It felt good, y'know? I liked all the attention I was getting. While you were at work Old Yeller used to come and stand by my crib. He'd tickle me underneath my chin and tell me that I was gonna be a worldbeater some day.

I know what you're thinking. I can tell by the look in your eyes.

Mom knew the yellow-eyed dude. She did.

I used to listen to them talk out in the hall. Like I said, people don't think kids and babies remember stuff like that, but they do.

I could move things just by thinking about it. You used to wonder why my toys were all over the place, remember? I'd sneak out in the back yard and you kept telling Mom that you couldn't understand how I could open the door because I was too short.

The day Mom told me that I was gonna have a little brother? You're not gonna believe that either, but I was happy. At first. Mom got bigger in her belly, but I didn't mind that. She was so damn beautiful. She glowed. I know you saw it too. She still spent time with me, we went to the park, rode around in the Impala. Things really didn't change all that much. You and me played ball in the backyard, we still did stuff together. So far, so good.

The day the little rug rat finally showed up, though, I started having second thoughts.

You and Mom spent more time with him than you did with me. Okay. Not so good. Then it dawned on me that this was the way things were going to be from then on.

Was I lying when I said I wanted to be the best big brother in the whole wide world? Well, duh. Yeah. I was lying my ass off. I mean, Sammy was little. He couldn't look after himself, right? So I pretended to be interested in him. Hung around when Mom gave him a bath, stuff like that. I got some face time, all right, but I had to share. It wasn't like before. I figured when he got older you guys would lose interest in him, maybe take him back to the pound or where ever folks take kids they don't want any more.

Hey, I was a kid, all right? What the hell did I know?

Don't get me wrong, I never thought about hurting Sam when he was little. Most days I was actually kinda fond of the little booger. He'd grab my finger in that fat little fist of his and laugh and giggle.

The first six months were good times.

And then everything went straight down the tubes when Mom died.

I don't blame you for that. I don't. I never figured the damn demon was going to kill her. Hell, I didn't even know he was feeding Sammy his blood too. Not until later. When Mom put me down for my nap I stayed down. I figure Azazel used some kind of sleep mojo on me.

Like to see that bastard try that now.

Anyway. I got quiet. I felt lost without Mom. I could tell you did too. Nothing much happened those first few years. I kept telling myself that maybe things could change. I was also kinda pissed off, to tell the truth. Here I was thinking that I was special, and I wasn't.

I slept in Sam's bed a lot when he was a baby. You thought I was protecting him, and maybe I was.

Or maybe I was trying to make sure he didn't get any more demon blood.

Sometimes I could see the yellow in Sammy's eyes. You never could, and I used to wonder about that. I didn't use my powers anymore. You were too busy taking care of us, and that felt kinda nice. So no weird, freaky stuff.

Until that day Sammy pushed me down the stairs at Pastor Jim's house and I broke my neck.

When I hit the bottom of the stairs and my neck snapped I swear I could hear that yellow-eyed bastard laughing his ass off.

I staggered to my feet. My head hung down on my chest and my neck felt funny. I couldn't fuckin' believe it. I got ganked by a friggin' four year old!

You and Pastor Jim were outside, and all I could think about was that I couldn't let either one'a you see me like that. I healed up in a hurry, just by thinking about it. I didn't know I could do that. Hell, you learn something new every day.

Sammy was sitting on the top of the stairs. He laughed at first, but he stopped when I stood up and pushed my neck back into place. Everything looked yellow to me then. It hurt like a sonofabitch, but I didn't do anything to the little brat, not then. I looked up at him, and he was trying not to laugh and I knew he'd do it again.

You and Pastor Jim came back inside, and I pretended everything was okay.

Later on Sammy and me went for a walk. Remember that pond in back of Pastor Jim's place? I told Sammy there were some really pretty fish in there, and I pushed his head under the water. I held him down so he could see them better.

He drowned. But he was just like a damn bad penny. He came back moments later.

That was the start of it, I guess. We went back and forth at each other. You were gone for two, three weeks at a time on hunts. I picked my spots. At least, I tried to. Fort Douglas? That was a clusterfuck, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

I knew that shtriga Dad was hunting was hanging around the neighborhood. I broadcasted Sam's location, let everything fugly know that there was a tender young morsel in our motel room.

I rang the dinner bell. Come and get it!

The shtriga came through the walls. It looked me up and down. I was too big for it, too old. It sniffed the air, and from the way it was trembling all over I knew it had picked up Sammy's scent.

Stupid thing still didn't move, so I left, to give them some privacy. I didn't know you'd come back early.

Witch Hazel fucked things up by moving so damn slow.

And I had to pretend I was so damn sorry about the whole thing.

Talk about FUBAR.

You ignored me for a whole damn month, and that was when I decided that maybe I should be a little more careful. I also realized that if you knew what I really was, well, you'd hunt my sorry ass down. That didn't appeal to me. Not one bit.

I tried to get rid of Sam over the years. I really did. Electrocution worked about as well as drowning him did. I put rat poison in his granola mix one time. Got bupkis. Smothering him with a pillow was no damn good. He'd always come back.

And so would I.

Just so you know, it wasn't one sided. I don't want you to think that, like I was picking on the brat, or something like that. He always gave as good as he got. We never argued about it. We just knew that sooner or later one of us would have to go.

Sleeping in the same room with him always sucked big-time, and we definitely didn't try to kill each other whenever you bunked with us. Dude, you were a light sleeper with lethal combat skills, and we never forgot it. Those nights me and Sammy declared a truce.

Tomorrow was another day, like that Scarlet O'Hara chick in that movie used to say.

I really liked going over to Bobby's place. I lured Sam out into the yard and tipped a school bus over on him while you and Bobby were off on a hunt. 'course, I got payback for that one.

Still don't get how he was able to sneak ground glass into my food the next morning. That was a classic.

I drew the line at running him over with the Impala. Wasn't gonna total her or put some dents in my baby on account of his Sasquatch ass.

All my life I've dreamed about Old Yeller. Sammy has too. He has special children, and he said he has plans for all of us. Now that's something I really didn't want to hear.

And I should say he had special children. He doesn't anymore.

You gave me the keys to the Impala, told me that we could cover more ground that way, right?

You didn't know how right you were.

Between hunts I managed to sneak off and pay my brothers and sisters a visit. Andy, Ava, Lily and Max Miller. I wasn't in a sharing and caring mood, not then, not now, and they all had to go.

I can do more things now. I can call down wild weather, start fires just by thinking about it, but I don't use that one very often. Reminds me of Mom, and I don't like that.

Nothing's written in stone. I might have to rethink that strategy, though.

See that thick smoke on the horizon? The eastern seaboard's gone up in flames. Sam's just getting started. The whole world's next.

Sammy and I were always destined to star in the Big Show. We didn't ask for any of this, but what we both wanted didn't matter. Not to you, and not to that yellow-eyed fuck.

And after all these years I still don't feel like sharing. Neither does Sam.

Aww, don't look at me like that. My eyes turn yellow like this sometimes. So what? I'm still the good son, the one who stayed, right?

Huh. Guess not.

I don't like the way you're looking at me, Dad. Remember I said I wouldn't hurt you?

I might have to rethink that one too.

-30-