A/N: Last chapter. Hooray. It's finished. Also, (this is where you skip to the story, I'm serious) today, I have been watching Supernatural for six months.

Disclaimer: Altough I sold my soul six months ago, I still do not get supernatural.

Chapter Five: Of Kindergarten Teachers and Sick Sammy's

"Sam?" asked one of the parents of one of the little girls in Sam's class.

"He's new," she answered. "He was here this week and the week before that."

"Was he okay?"

The Little Girl shrugged. "He's really quiet," she explained. "But he cried today. And yelled a little, and he was mean to Benny."

"Is Benny okay?"

"Yeah," the Little Girl said conversationally. "He's okay. He is a real character, Mommy." Her mom smiled. "He called Sam a freak cuz he was crying like a baby."

"Why was he crying, Stacy?"

Stacy shrugged again. "I dunno. He doesn't talk to anybody but his big brother in the whole school, on account of he's new, and kinda shy. And he doesn't do good in school, but he reads and adds pretty good."

"Your teacher's calling, sweetheart," said Stacy's mom, bending down and kissing the top of her head. "I'll see you soon."

(Supernatural: Of Kindergarten Teachers and Sick Sammy's)

Mrs. Flowers had been informed about her new student, Sam Winchester. Exceptionally bright, quiet, respectful, optimistic, and a ball full of energy on eight out of ten days. A quiet, respectful ball of energy.

Also, Sam Winchester was very sensitive, and incredibly fond of his older brother, Dean.

Mrs. Flowers knew Sam's family moved around a lot. Sam and Dean had already been to five schools this year, but it had thus far not deterred Sam Winchester from being above reading level.

In the two weeks Sam had been in here class, he had been delightful. Quiet, respectful, smart, and determined. Mrs. Flowers had met some stubborn kindergarteners in her career, but none so determined as Sam Winchester.

In the two weeks the Winchesters had been at the school, Mrs. Flowers knew Dean almost as well as Sam. He was loud, and brazen, and liked to make sure everyone knew he was a Winchester, and Winchester are a stubborn race of human.

Except around his brother. Heck, if Mrs. Flowers was Dean Winchester's little brother, than she would adore him too. Sam idolized Dean. Sam relaxed around Dean. There were really only two states of being for Sam Winchester: with Dean, and without Dean. With Dean was safe. With Dean was fun. With Dean was home.

Without Dean was vulnerable and scary and boring, and yet still kind of exciting but not for long. And for school being without Dean, Sam loved school an inordinate amount.

Sam never showed any signs of hating schools until that Friday, when Sam came in moping and rubbing his eyes, and informed Mrs. Flowers that he would not be singing in the kindergarten concert. Then he proceeded to refuse to do anything else she asked the class to do.

And threw a fit, and when Benny called him a freak, scrawny six-year-old though he was, Mrs. Flowers thought he would take the stupid kid's head off.

Sam then continued to cry loudly, and nothing they did would get him to stop. He just kept crying. And so Big Brother had to be fetched, and Sam registered Dean after a few minutes, and practically folded into his brother's lap. And Dean had proclaimed Sam sick on top of everything else and he was out of the classroom about five minutes before the rest of the students came back.

And the first thing that stupid kid Benny asked was, "What happened to Sam?" And Mrs. Flowers bit back her, "you pissed him off, moron," and she sat on her desk and put on her serious face.

"Sam wasn't feeling well," she said sweetly.

"Why'd he cry?" continued Benny. Mrs. Flowers began to wonder if letting Sam take Benny's head off was that terrible of an idea, but she suppressed that thought. "It's a new school, and he's nervous and lonely," she told them. "Remember how scared you were on your first day?" Mrs. Flowers got an affirmative hum and many understanding nods. "Sam doesn't know anyone here, and he wasn't feeling well." It wouldn't be the first time kindergarteners had cried because they were feeling a little overwhelmed.

"Is he coming back?" asked Stacy.

"He'll probably be back on Monday," Mrs. Flowers told them. "When he comes back, I want us all to try and make him feel like part of the class, okay?" More nods. Not one from Benny.

Dean Winchester opened the door at that very moment. He was alone, but he seemed to know what he was looking for and where he'd find it.

"Hi," said Stacy, waving at him. Dean smiled back.

"Who're you?" asked Benny.

Dean frowned at him, like he sense that this was the boy who upset Sammy. He thought, however, saying something snarky to a kindergartner wouldn't go down too well. "I'm Sam's brother. I'm here to get his stuff," said Dean. And after a few more seconds of awed stares, Mrs. Flowers got them back on track.

(Supernatural: Of Kindergarten Teachers and Sick Sammy's)

Sam woke up somewhere he didn't recognize, but in Sam's life, he'd woken up lots of different places, so Sam didn't mind. He rubbed his eyes groggily and sat up. The first thing he noticed was how much his head hurt.

"Hey, Sammy," said someone next to him. Sam jumped and looked lover. Dean. It was just Dean. "How're you doing?" he asked.

"My head hurts," complained Sam. "A lot."

"How much is 'a lot,' Sammy?" asked Dean.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know, Dean. Just a lot." Sam turned his eyes on him.

"Okay, Sammy, I believe you," said Dean. "But we can't leave until someone gets in touch with Dad or Pastor Jim or someone."

Sam shrugged again.

"You hungry, Sam?" asked Dean. Sam shook his head. Dean didn't think he'd say he was. Especially not if he still had a fever. "Could you eat something?"

Sam shrugged. "I guess," he sighed.

"Good," said Dean, making Sam's lunchbox appear out of nowhere, and he pulled out a sandwich. Dean even unwrapped it and handed Sam half. Sam didn't know what kind of sandwich it was, but when he took a bite, he couldn't help but make a face and hand it back to Dean. Dean pushed it back into Sam's hands. "Just a little, Sam," insisted Dean, retrieving a water bottle, and handing him that too. Sam took a couple of big gulps using both hands, leaving his half-a-sandwich forgotten on his lap. Dean nudged him, when Sam handed Dean the water bottle back. Sam picked his sandwich up and stared at it for a few seconds before taking the most hesitant, smallest bit Dean had ever seen.

"Are you gonna barf?" asked Dean, lowering his voice a little anxiously, mostly because Dean had been to more schools than he could remember, and knew teachers and especially school nurses had a puke-radar.

Sam shook his head. "Not hungry," he repeated. "Still tired. Dean, my head hurts. I wanna sleep in the car."

"Eat just a little," said Dean, ignoring everything else Sam shot at him. Sam took another obedient, microscopic bite. He closed his eyes and let his head droop a little. Dean scooted closer to Sam and lifted his chin up so he was looking Dean sleepily in the eye. Sam knew Dean was trying to take his temperature just by staring at him. Finally, Dean sighed and removed his hand from Sam's chin. "You'll live," he decided. Sam hummed in response and continued to chewing on his sandwich. It tasted bad. He wanted to give it back to Dean or for Dean to tell him that was enough, because Sam didn't want the stupid sandwich.

"Not hungry," grumbled Sam again.

"Okay, fine," agreed Dean, and took it back from Sam after some examination. H'm. Sam hadn't meant to say it out loud. Oh well, the sandwich was gone.

The nurse walked in, and she started to say something, when she saw that Dean was still sitting there. She seemed a little surprised. "Dean, honey." She had to search for the name and the "honey" seemed a little forced, but she said it with genuine concern. "You should be in class."

"It's okay," said Dean condescendingly. "I'm more use here than anywhere else."

"I really think it's –"

"My brother who threw a fit in kindergarten today," Dean continued, raising his voice a little. Sam ducked his head, embarrassed. "I really think it's my brother who has a fever and is exhausted. I think I'll stay, thanks." Dean's voice was perfectly even. "D'you have something to say?" Any other teacher wouldn't have stood being spoken to like that, but the nurse was just sort of stunned, and Sammy cracked a smile.

"Your father's on his way, Sam," she said. "He said he'll be here as soon as he can."

That's what Dad always says, thought sick-tired-already-upset Sammy sourly. Dean smiled. "Thanks."

She rolled her eyes and left to attend to other sick kids.

Sam leaned into Dean. "You called Dad?" he asked miserably.

"Do you have a better way to sleep in the car?" asked Dean.

Sam didn't say anything. He sighed and closed his eyes. "Tired," he complained.

"Sammy, if you say that one more time, I might just go back to class," Dean threatened. It was an empty threat, but Sam grabbed at the hem of Dean's shirt and looked up at him with big, pleading eyes.

"Good," said Dean. "Because you're gonna need me to back you up when Dad finds out about today. He's gonna be pissed."

"Why does Dad have to know?" asked Sam in a small voice.

"Sammy, they probably already told him," said Dean. "When your kid tried to take a swing at another kid, parents get called."

"I didn't try to punch Benny," grumbled Sam irritably. Sam was just going freak him out a little.

"It doesn't matter, Sam," said Dean, touching on impatient. "Sam, there are days I want to rip everyone in school apart, okay? But I don't, even though I could."

"Yeah, but–" started Sam. He didn't know how he'd finish that sentence. It didn't matter. Dean didn't let him.

"And that Benny kid is a freakin' jerk, don't get me wrong," continued Dean, like he actually knew how annoying Benny was. "But Sam, you can't."

"I know, Dean," mumbled Sam. He did. Honest. But he was so angry and tired and frustrated and…freak… Sam listened to Dad when he thought Sam was asleep. He said words a lot worse than "freak," but only as in words not to use in school, or in front of Pastor Jim, or the baby sitters Dad sometimes got for them. "Freak" was said a lot, and Dad sure didn't like them. A freak was someone who was different. Sam was different from Benny and Ava and Ashley and Louis and Stacy and everyone else, but Sam wasn't a freak, was he? "But I'm not a freak."

"Oh, I don't know about that," said Dean. "But you're no different from me or Dad. And that's okay, I guess." Sam smiled weakly. "And Sam," continued Dean. "Before you tried to kill Benny," he clarified. "What the heck, man?" Sam shrugged. "This is not going to happen again, understand, or I won't be there when Dad unleashes the wrath of God on you next time. And you ain't gonna like it." Sam nodded, but he kept his eyes on the floor. "Sammy?"

"Yeah, okay, Dean," agreed Sam. "But –"

"What are you even arguing about, Sam?" said Dean. "You are going to go to school and you're gonna impress everyone with your freaky brain, and your evil puppy-dog eyes, and you're gonna tell me and Dad everything, and it's gonna be great, because that's what Sam's do best, am I right?"

Sam shrugged. "But what if –"

"If what?" asked Dean. "If you're upset?" Dean was quiet. "I'm not saying don't be upset, Sammy. I'm saying don't let kids like Benny know you're upset. You can tell me if something makes you sad, Sam, but the whole kindergarten should have to hear you bitch." Sam nodded again. "I'm gonna tell you a secret, Sammy," he said suddenly. "Sometimes, even I get upset. And Dad too."

"Cuz of Mom?"

"Yeah," agreed Dean. "Sometimes. You know what else makes him sad?" Sam shook his head. "When his favorite geek doesn't like school."

"I don't like this school," said Sam, like he might be letting Dad down.

"Yeah, well," said Dean, picking up his own and Sam's bag. "This school sucks." He offered Sam his hand, and Sam took it. Dean led him to front office to wait for Dad to pick them up so Dad could give Sam hell about flipping out, and then letting him fall asleep in the car. Because Dad does what dad's do best, thought Sammy, sitting on Dean's lap. Being a big brother.