Fic: The First (And Last) Day

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Title: The First (And Last) Day
Author: thedreamisreal
Recipient: ficwriter1966
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: Dean and John, though mostly Dean, cope with Sammy's first day of school.



Dean couldn't believe that this day had already come; that his little Sammy was big enough to carry his red lunch box to the bus stop, chattering excitedly next to him as they waited for their transport to arrive.

"Are the teachers nice, Dean?" Sammy asked for the fifth time that morning, and although it bugged the hell out of Dean, he answered again anyway, because it was Sammy, and for Sammy he would do anything. This included answering questions without losing his patience.

"Elementary teachers usually are, Sammy. Unless you give them a reason not to be nice, they're all sugar plum fairies." Dean grinned.

Sam wrinkled his brow in confusion. "What?"

Dean sighed. "Never mind Sammy. So, are you excited to make new friends?" He asked this lightheartedly, even though his insides were squeezing together at the thought of Sammy away from him, away from protection.

"Yeah! You and Dad are so boring, talking about cars and baseball and stuff. Do you think any of the kids will know about Batman?"

Dean laughed. "I think a fair amount of kids will know about Batman, Sammy. If you're lucky, they'll know about Robin, too."

Sam giggled, the only beautiful sound in world according to Dean. Well, besides Metallica and AC/DC. And the Impala.

"Dean?"

"Yes Sammy?"

"Is Dad mad at me?"

Dean looked down at Sam, concern flooding his face. "Why would you think that, Sam? Did he say something to you? Did he hurt you?"

Sam shook his head furiously, eyes wide. "No, oh no Dean. Dad didn't hurt me. But did he hurt you last night?"

Dean tensed, remembering the fight the night before. "I'm fine Sammy. Don't you worry about me, little bro."

Sam lightly pushed Dean's arm with his shoulder. "But it was because of me, wasn't it? Because I'm starting school, right?"

Dean forced a smile. "It's not your fault you grew up so fast, Sammy. Dad is just worried about you, that's all. Starting school is a big deal. I mean, Dad even bought you a brand new pair of shoes and everything! That's gotta count for something, doesn't it?"

Sam frowned. "But why would he be mad at you? It's not like you're the growth fairy or something. I grew all by myself!"

The bus turned a corner a block down from where they stood, heading toward them, lights flashing. Children's screams and laughter filled the air around them suddenly, as the vehicle slid to a stop and opened its doors for them.

"Ready?" Dean held out his hand.

Sam stuck up his chin and walked onto the bus, leaving Dean on the sidewalk, shocked.

"More ready than I ever was." Dean mumbled under his breath, as he climbed up the steps after him.

Eight hours, he kept telling himself. Only eight more hours before he could see Sam again, hear his voice, his laughter resounding in his ears, and everything in the world would be all right again. It wasn't that long, and besides, he'd been separated from Sam this long before. It wasn't as if he hadn't attended school before.

Yeah, but Sam was at home, safe with someone else, moron. Not out in the open like this.

Dean shook the thought away, moaning softly when the sensation only brought on a headache.

"Mr. Winchester?"

He looked up, slightly dazed, at Miss Metcalf, his new third grade teacher. She looked impatient, and Dean guessed it was probably because of him.

"Yeah?"

"Proper English, Mr. Winchester. Now let's try again. Mr. Winchester?" Her thin eyebrows disappeared into her hairline as she spoke, and her mouth pursed together until her lips were white.

Dean sighed inwardly, sinking lower into his seat.

"Yes, miss?"

Still, her muscles did not relax, gripping the piece of chalk tightly in her hand. "What is the capital of Kansas?"

"Lawrence." The name flew out of his mouth before he could think any further of it.

"Wrong, Mr. Winchester. Please pay attention to rest of the lesson, and you might learn something."

Dean waited until her back was turned, and then hit his head on his desk with a soft *thump*. He knew the capital of Kansas, Christ, even Sammy knew that.

Dean hated school.

He looked for Sammy after school, but failed to find him for about five minutes, until he heard the familiar rumble of the Impala. Looking across the parking lot, he saw the black shadow of a vehicle sitting across the street, with Sammy already sitting in the passenger seat.

"Figures." Dean chuckled darkly as he ran across the lot, only narrowly avoiding a collision with a pickup truck. He reached the Impala slightly out of breath.

"Hiya Sammy!" he called through the window of the car. "How was your-"

"Dean, you idiot! Did you not see the truck coming at you? You could've been seriously hurt!" John's voice cut through both Dean's and Sam's grins.

Dean shrugged, laughing off the harsh words. "I wasn't, was I? I'm invincible."

"Not as much as you think you are." John growled. "Get in, quickly now."

The drive back to their tiny apartment was silent, the air filled with a tense silence, which was only broken by Sammy humming the "ABC" song repeatedly. When they finally parked, Dean grabbed his pack, raced up the stairs, and unlocked the door with his key. Throwing his pack on the couch, he sat down heavily while reaching for the TV remote.

"Dean!"

His finger was just over the POWER button when Sammy's voice rang across the room. Placing the remote back on the table, he called out, "What Sammy?"

"You'll never believe what I did today! We played with these toys called Legos, and something called Play-Doh, and we counted with Goldfish and then we ate them, and I played house with a girl named Jess, and colored a picture with Gabe and then we went outside for recess and I played on the monkey bars and fell off and hurt my knee-"

"What?" Dean flew off the couch when Sammy mentioned his knee, having only half-listened to the first part of Sammy's long-winded rant. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

Sammy laughed at his brother's overprotective nature. "I'm fine, Dean. My teacher, Mrs. Abbot, fixed me up before you could say 'Holy ghost, Batman!'"

Dean smiled weakly at the thought of someone else taking care of Sammy. "Are you sure you're okay, though?"

Sam rolled his eyes, or something similar being only five, and sat on the couch, grabbing hold of the remote. "You're such a worry-wart Dean. Lighten up."

John's footsteps thundered down the hall, heavy and rhythmic, and Dean was off the couch in half a second. "Dad?"

"Pack. Only things that are necessary. We're leaving."

"Leaving?" Sam cried from the couch. "But Dad. . ."

"No buts, Samuel. Help your brother pack. I don't want to hear any nonsense about it."

Sam only cried a little as they packed up his clothes in his tiny duffel bag, and Dean made sure there was room for his new shoes and lunch box before they piled into the Impala.

Leaving the town that night, they passed the elementary school, which had a darker, and more sinister look in the dark. With Sam sniffling beside him and his Dad drumming his finger sagainst the steering wheel, Dean hoped with all his heart that the next town had a great school.

For Sammy's sake, of course.