Disclaimer: Supernatural and all its characters belong to Kripke and the CW.

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Sammy Winchester sat elbows planted on his knees on the bottom step at the entrance to his latest school, Priestly Academy. Head propped on his fisted hands and eyes locked on the yard and road ahead he willed his dad to drive around the corner and put an end to the worst school day ever. He snorted at the idea of his dad saving him from school of all things.

Kicking at the tiny rocks on the ground he let his thoughts drift back to the beginning of his oh so horrible day. It had started with them being a half hour late for school. Nothing new there. When the mighty John Winchester was on one of his hunts until two or three o'clock in the morning, he tended to forget insignificant things like school starting times. "Yeah, like he remembers when he's not hunting." Sammy huffed. Pushing thoughts of his father's warped priorities aside he delved back into his memories scowling as he recalled old Mr. Hubbard, his first period teacher sending him to the principal's office since it was his third tardy in as many weeks. Once inside Sammy immediately noticed that he was facing the principal alone; no Dean in sight. "Dean manages to talk his teacher, a young blond woman into letting him slide yet again while I'm left twisting in the wind." He bitterly thought recalling the principal's lecture about trying to be more like his older brother Dean who always arrived on time. By the time the principal had finished his little lecture followed by the threat of detention next time he was late the bell for second period had already rang.

Hearing the distant roar of an engine Sammy quickly sat up staring in the direction of the noise. Seconds later he slumped watching an old Corvette turn onto the street and zoom past the school. Dropping his head onto his fists he let his mind wander stopping at the history class fiasco. And really this one was so not his fault. The teacher had assigned an essay on a famous America. He had spent a week researching and writing the perfect essay on Abraham Lincoln only to read it to the class and get blasted by the teacher for not writing about one of the founding fathers of the "great" town of Jasper, North Carolina. If somebody had just clued him in to the fact that the founding fathers were the teacher's ancestors, he could have saved himself a ton of humiliation.

Of course that was nothing compared to the disaster at P.E. The coach had set up two different obstacle courses for them to complete. One by one the boys in his class had been put through the courses while the coach stood with his timer and yelled at them to speed up. Sammy had done pretty well, he thought especially since he was the shortest kid in his class. Coach Adkins had a different opinion though. He had read Sammy the riot act about his "poor performance". "I can't believe you're Winchester's little brother!" he had shouted. "He can blow through both courses in the time it takes you to do one! Too bad you aren't more like him." Sammy thought if he heard "you need to be more like Dean" one more time he was gonna explode! Don't get him wrong. He loved his big brother. It was just that sometimes it was really hard to be Dean's little brother.

Hearing giggling behind him Sammy turned to see Dean and his girl of the week deep in a, umm, conversation. He quickly spun back around grimacing at the sight that was now imprinted in his memory. Shaking his head to clear the disgusted image that was burned into his brain Sammy looked up and smiled seeing and hearing the impala. "Gotta go, Dean!" he hollered as he slung his book bag over his shoulder and started towards the road where the car was now idling. Opening the back door he threw his bag into the car before climbing in and slamming the door. He watched his big brother slowly walk over as he thought about the training to come. Today was the day he proved to himself and his family that he was just as good as his big brother Dean. He was going to ace the shooting practice, beat Dean at sparring, and keep up with his dad and brother on their run. After today he'd never hear "be more like Dean" again. Sammy leaned back in his seat and gazed out the window, looking forward to the training to come.

Several hours later

Sammy sat slumped in the back seat of the impala glaring at the back of his dad's head. His train wreck of a training session had included the words "more like Dean" eight times. He knew. He'd counted every one of them. Seems no matter how hard he tried Sam just couldn't measure up. At the shooting range it was "Come on Sammy. It only took Dean a couple of times to learn how to hit the bull's eye. We've been out here all week and you still can't consistently hit the target." His dad had then walked away with instructions to keep practicing.

John went to where Dean was practicing and clapped him on the back. After they put away the gun and targets, the two of them had gone over to the "sparring area" John had set up. Sammy had watched as his dad showed Dean some new moves. While Sammy heard things like, "You're doing it all wrong, Sammy" or "Come on Sammy, it didn't take Dean this long to learn it" from a frustrated John, Dean got comments like, "You've almost got it. Just remember to keep your arm bent." Or "That was good for a first time. Try again." From a very patient sounding John. Sammy had no idea why there was such an enormous difference in the way their dad treated them in training. Maybe he used up all his patience when he was teaching Dean a new move? Somehow Sammy didn't think that was it.

Sammy was brought out of his musings when the car came to a stop. Glancing around he noticed that they were at the stop light a few blocks from their hotel. He listened to his dad and Dean animatedly talking about a salt and burn that was set up for this weekend. Dean was so excited he was literally bouncing in the seat at the thought of hunting alongside their dad. Sammy shook his head as the two discussed the supplies they would need and what weapons were needed. Sometimes he wished his family was normal like everyone else.

Sammy leaned against the car window as the light turned green and the impala started across the intersection John and Dean still deep in conversation. A horn blaring, a blinding flash of light, and the crunch of metal on metal were the last things he registered before everything went dark.

AN-Well, what do you think? Is it worth writing or should I trash it?