Sioux City, Iowa November 1997...

"I'm going with you," Dean announced, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, a look of defiance on his young face.

John Winchester didn't need to look at his son to know the look. He heard it in his voice. The boy had been growing restless for some time, tired of playing surrogate parent to his brother, wanting to come into his own as a hunter. As much as John had been dreading it, he knew his son was becoming a man.

"No, you're not," John told him, his attention seemingly focused on packing and getting ready for the hunt.

"Why not?" asked Dean. "I'm eighteen years old. I'm ready, Dad. I've been ready for years."

"Because I'm enrolling you and Sam in a local high school for a few weeks."

Dean looked crestfallen. He knew what that meant. He was being shoved aside again. Out of sight, out of mind, forced to play glorified babysitter for his younger brother, but that wasn't the only thing that was bothering him.

Dean had never really liked school. He didn't get along well with his peers, and his teachers found him disrespectful and brash. The truth was he had little patience for the day-to-day drama that went on in high school. While everyone else was worrying about pimples and dating and getting good grades, he was worrying about keeping himself and his brother alive.

Anyway, in Dean's opinion, school was a waste of time. Once he'd learned the basics of reading, writing, and arithmetic, the rest was mostly useless. He'd known from a young age that a normal life wasn't in the cards. He wasn't college material. He was a hunter. It was in his blood. It was all he'd ever known and all he'd ever be, just like his father.

There was a time long ago when Dean had had dreams, but he'd given them up after his mother had died, knowing they weren't meant to be. Dreams were just dreams, nothing more.

"School" You're kidding me!" Dean exclaimed. "What the hell for?"

"Watch the mouth, boy," John scolded. He knew it was hopeless. Dean was a carbon copy of himself, but he didn't want Sam picking up any of Dean's bad habits.

Sam was still young, innocent, impressionable, even for fourteen, and John wanted to keep him that way. When it came to Sam, he was and always had been overprotective. Not so, with Dean. Dean had been forced to grow up too quickly. Dean had always seemed fine with it, and John tried not to think too hard about what effect it might have had on his eldest son. He had too many other more important things to worry about.

"I'm quitting school. It's a waste of time," Dean informed his father, bracing himself for the inevitable barrage of lecturing.

John visibly stiffened and then straightened and turned to face his eldest son, recognizing the same stubborn streak in him that he found in himself. It wasn't that Dean lacked the knowledge or the skills, and there was no question about his courage, but he was young and cocky and just a little bit naive. He reminded John too much of the other boys he'd gone to 'Nam with - young, idealistic, eager for adventure. They'd left boys and returned men - changed, hardened, scarred for life. It wasn't what he wanted for his eldest, but it seemed he had no choice. Neither of them had ever really had a choice. He swore he'd redeem himself with Sammy, let him have the life he and Dean could never have.

"Not yet you're not," John said, turning back to his packing. "I need you to keep an eye on your brother."

"Sam is fourteen," Dean argued. "He's not a baby anymore. I'm sick of playing babysitter. I want to hunt with you."

John stiffened in anger, his first instinct to whack the boy upside the head and knock some sense into him, but he heard the pleading tone in his son's voice and only sighed. He'd known this day would come sooner or later. He'd always hoped it would be later or maybe never. He knew he couldn't keep the boys holed up with Bobby forever, and dragging them around the country had never really worked either. What they really needed was a mother, but the yellow-eyed demon had taken her from them when Dean was only four.

"Just this one last time, Dean, all right' I need you to do this for me. I can't be in two places at one time."

"What are you gonna do with Sam when I start hunting with you?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," John replied. "I'll worry about that when the time comes. Maybe I'll let him home school himself. He's a bright kid. He's gonna make something of himself one day."

Dean winced, glad his father wasn't looking his way. All he'd ever tried to do all his life was please his father, but it was always Sam this and Sam that. Sam, Sam, Sam. Sam would make something of himself one day. Dean was just Dean. A hunter like his father. No one special. No one important. He knew his fate and he'd accepted it, but hearing his father say it, as if Dean's life wasn't as important as Sam's, was like shoving a dagger in his heart.

"Okay," Dean relented, not really having any choice and not wanting to admit he was as worried about Sam's safety as his father. "But this is it. After this, I'm done with school."

"Agreed, but you'll get your G.E.D. You're not gonna be a high school dropout."

"What the hell for" You think a G.E.D. will help me be a better hunter?" Dean snapped back sarcastically.

"No, but I think it might help if you ever need to get a real job, Dean."

Dean blinked. A real job' When would he need to get a real job' As far as he knew, John hadn't done an honest day's work in years. Oh, sure, he'd fixed a car here and there when he'd had time, but a steady paycheck" He couldn't remember the last time they'd settled down long enough for his father to earn a normal week's wage. As usual, most of Dean's thoughts went unsaid.

"What are you hunting?" he asked instead.

"Something dangerous." John darted a look at his son again. He didn't want to tell the boy that he had a lead on the yellow-eyed bastard. It would only spark his interest and make him want to join the hunt. "I need you to keep your brother safe, got it?"

Dean nodded his head. He got it. He'd gotten it way back when he was four and his father had laid his brother in his arms and told him to get the hell out of the burning house. Always his brother, never him. Dean often wondered if John had to choose one son over the other, which would it be? He had a feeling he might not like the answer.

John straightened, smiling, and gave Dean's shoulder a squeeze. "Good. I knew I could count on you, son."

"Sure, Dad. You can always count on me." A strained smile tugged at the corners of Dean's lips, but there was no joy in it. Just once, he wished his father would tell him that he loved him. Just once. He was the good son, the dutiful son, the obedient son. He'd always done everything that John had asked and then some. Why was it so damned hard to say?

Dean watched as his father returned to his packing, going through the ritual he always did when he was getting ready for a hunt. Checking his guns, making sure they were clean and loaded, packing for every possibility. He wished he was going. He was tired of always being left behind, but he'd promised his father and himself long ago that he'd always take care of Sam, and that's what he was going to do yet again.

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((Author's Note: This post takes place just before the flashback events in Episode 4.13, "After School Special". Canon says it takes place in November 1997, which makes Dean 18 and Sam 14. I am making some assumptions in this post, as we don't really know what John was hunting when he dropped the boys off at Truman High School. It's just something that came to mind and wanted to be written. So, there you have it. Below is a picture of Dean at the age of 18. The actor portraying a teenage Dean is Brock Kelly.))

http://i54.tinypic.com/r9iy6f.jpg