"So, how do I look?" Dean spread his arms wide, grinning.

"Look at my beautiful son." His mom approached and drew him into a hug.

"Don't you use that uniform to get girls," his dad said gruffly.

"Dad." Dean rolled his eyes before glancing at Sam, who met his eyes with a raised eyebrow.

"Makes you look fat," he said, deadpan. He grinned, but Dean thought for a moment that something was wrong with his eyes. It was gone the next moment, as his dad cuffed Sam on the back of his head.

"You gonna miss me, Sammy?" Dean asked.

"Nah, it'll mean you'll stop stealing my stuff," Sam joked, but something still felt a bit off.

"Why don't you two grab some ice cream. You have a couple hours before leaving," Mom suggested.

"C'mon, squirt, I'll buy you some ice cream."

Sam scowled at the nickname, but didn't protest the arm Dean threw around his shoulders.

"Sorry I'm gonna miss your freshman year," Dean commented.

"Yeah," Sam mumbled.

Dean waited, patiently. It was the only way to get Sam to open up sometimes, especially ever since he'd hit his teenage years.

"Do you have to go?" Sam blurted out.

"Yeah, buddy, you know I do." Dean switched his hand from around Sam's shoulder to squeezing his neck. "Four years and it'll be your turn, y'know."

"To go into the Marines?"

"Not necessarily. What do you want to do?"

Sam twitched. "I dunno."

"No worries, okay? I'll be home for Christmas."

Sam nodded and pasted on an obviously fake smile. Dean let it slide. "I'll race you to the ice cream shop."

Dean got mint chocolate chip, Sam got some sort of funky blueberry flavor that Dean raised an eyebrow over but didn't comment.

"You know those kids?" Dean asked, jerking his head to a bunch of high schoolers in the corner. Dean's friends had mostly been older, and a lot of them had already left Lawrence.

"No," Sam mumbled, focused on his ice cream cone. "I don't want you to go."

Dean made himself smile, even as his insides clenched with the nervousness that had been simmering for months now. "I'll get to come back quite a bit, Sammy. 'S just training right now, you know that."

Sam hunkered down even more, and Dean found himself wishing that Sam would hit his growth spurt already. Big hands and big feet, but as of yet, no height. With Dean gone, there was no one to make sure that no one picked on him, and Dean scowled at the high school kids in the corner at the thought.

"You gonna write?" Sam mumbled.

"There's this brand new invention called a telephone, Sammy," Dean said with some amusement. "Seriously, bitch, it'll be fine. Promise."

Sam peered up through his bangs. "Pinky promise?"

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, but stuck out his pinky. For his trouble, he got a pinky wrapped around his own and a real smile from Sam.

"C'mon, let's get back before Mom panics and thinks we've run off."

Sam flicked a mischievous glance his way. "We could."

"Yeah, you wish."

Sam eyed the kids at the back of the classroom before returning to his studies. He kinda felt like skipping, today, just to run out into the city and not have to think about anything.

"Page 92."

In Sam's experience, high school wasn't like the TV shows where only nerds got picked on by jocks. Sam wasn't a nerd by any definition, just small and quiet. And the guys at the back of the class weren't jocks, they were the punks who'd been picked on in elementary, and had finally grown big enough to become bullies themselves.

Class dismissed, and Sam tried to make a quick getaway.

Emphasis on quick.

"Hey, Winchester."

On the other hand, high school was a lot like the TV shows with all the posturing. "What do you want?" Sam mumbled, getting ready to use his backpack as a weapon.

"We wanted to hang out. Y'know, practice a little hand to hand? How does that sound?"

Sam didn't bother scowling, just hunched his shoulders up further and muttered, "no thanks."

The blows came predictably.

Sam waited until they were gone to pick himself gingerly off the ground. Fighting back just meant they hit harder, so he had quickly learned to cower and duck away rather than try his own skills.

Sometimes, Sam hated Dean for being gone.

Mary frowned as Sam came in, scuffing dirt. "Sam? What on earth did you get into?"

Her youngest hid his eyes with his long hair. "Fell," he mumbled.

"Go get cleaned up," Mary sighed. "You need to get your grades up, remember?"

"My grades are fine," Sam said defensively.

"Fine, but not as good as they could be. If you just applied yourself—" she started, but saw herself losing Sam. "Go wash up."

"Yes ma'am." Sam slouched his way upstairs and Mary rubbed at her forehead. If only Sam could be more like Dean. She hated herself for the thought a moment later, but it wouldn't go away.

"Sweetie, you doing okay?"

Mary leaned back in John's arms with a sigh. "Just having problems with Sam."

He kissed her cheek gently. "You need me to talk to him?"

"Mm, no, it's not anything talking will fix. I can't seem to connect with him, John. If he keeps going down the way he's going, he'll never accomplish anything."

"He could go into the Marines," John suggested. Mary shuddered.

"Already have to worry about Dean, as if that's not enough," she berated her husband lightly. "Don't even bring it up."

"Fine. I've got to get the yard work done."

"Thanks, babe." Mary returned to her work with a sigh, not seeing the shadow in the hallway slip upstairs.

John cursed. Loudly.

"John?" Mary poked her head around the corner.

"Have you seen this?" John growled. He thrust the paper at her.

Mary sighed. "We're gonna have to talk to him about this."

"He gets any worse and he'll be kicked out of school. We're talking to him now."

Mary tried to protest, but John was on a one track mission. He stormed upstairs, hammering on Sam's door.

"Samuel! Get out here, right now!"

Sam opened the door, blank face staring at both of his parents. "Yes?"

"Care to explain this?" John asked, shaking the report sheet.

"It's a piece of paper," Sam said drily.

John saw red. He pushed forward, so that he was towering over Sam. "Your report card, smart aleck. Explain now."

Sam took a step back. "Whatever. It's just grades."

John felt Mary lay a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Sam," she said, voice a little more soothing than John knew his own would be, "we're worried about you. Your grades will dictate your future, and I know you're smart enough."

Sam shrugged. "Whatever."

"Oh, don't you 'whatever,' your mother," John snarled. "You are grounded for a week."

"Fine," Sam said. The lack of inflection told John that he'd judged poorly—Sam didn't care about being grounded, since it wouldn't interfere with any part of his life.

"And," John tacked on for good measure, "you will do drills with me each morning before school."

Finally, a flicker in Sam's impassive face. His son said nothing, though, watching as his parents left the room. John made it downstairs with Mary before letting out a deep sigh.

"That boy," he muttered.

"It'll be okay, John," Mary soothed. "It's just a teenage funk."

"Wish he would go about it the same way as Dean," John said. "Sneaking out for a few beers and fooling around with girls I can deal with. This emo crap is beyond me."

"Is the great John Winchester admitting defeat?" Mary teased.

John pretended to scowl. "Please. Nothing ever defeats me."

"I know." Mary kissed him. "It's why I married you."

A/N: Alternate title: being the youngest sucks (I'm the oldest, so I'm kinda going off what my brothers go through haha)

In celebration of my making it through adult health rotation alive (honestly it was pretty bad there for a while) I have a new AU! Again! Someone please stop me! What is my life!

This was an old concept that I wanted to rehash and finish off, and ended up growing and I'm still working on it. This monster won't stop, it's a little unfortunate. Hopefully it'll end up somewhere good? We'll see. Anyway, as usual, let me know what you think!