You know would’ve been an AMAZING spin-off?

John Winchester’s story on his road to becoming the amazing hunter that he was in order to avenge Mary. The lives of Sammy & Dean as they grew up as the only constant they had in their scary young lives, the lives that led them to being the psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent canon soulmate brothers that they are in the main show.

I would’ve watched that spin off prequel in a friggin’ heartbeat.

Please write me some extra fluffy weecest with lots of Sam’s puppy eyes and awesome big bro Dean ! Thx

(A/N: I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I was writing this, had it almost finished, and then the page crashed, so I got super angry and gave up for several days. It’s not as long as the original, and I do apologize for that. I hope you enjoy anyway!)

“Sammy, I’m home!” Dean called out from the entryway of their apartment-of-the-week and threw his keys into the little bowl on the side table as he did so.

“Dean!” the older brother heard from somewhere within the apartment. Running footsteps followed and soon Dean was catching a flying Sam out of the air. “You’re home!” Sam exclaimed and buried his nose in his brother’s neck. The 19 year old chuckled and pulled Sam in closer for a tight hug.

“Hey, baby boy.” he greeted, kissing Sam’s hair briefly before putting his younger brother down. “I brought dinner.” Dean held up a bag of food from the diner up the street. “I got your favorite. Salad with carrots, cucumbers, tomatoes and those crunchy curly thingies you like so much.” Dean held the bag aloft to make his point. Sam snagged the bag and headed towards the kitchen, Dean following close behind.

“They’re deep fried noodles, Dean, how many times do I have to tell you that?” Sam asked rhetorically and put the food down on the table. Dean rolled his eyes but wisely refrained from commenting. He busied himself by setting the table whilst Sam unpacked the food, Sam with his salad and Dean with a burger.

“So how was school today?” Dean questioned when he saw his little brother about to protest his choice of dinner. Sam sighed but decided to drop it.

“Mr. Kropp sat on another tack today. I swear, he must have an army of them on his desk that jump onto his chair to stab him every day.” Sam said around a mouthful of salad and dressing. “And Mrs. Graves is conspiring to fail me. She said that the paper that I turned in last week had ‘too strong an argument.’ What does that even mean?” Sam practically demanded. Dean chuckled.

"Too damn smart for your own good, Sammy.” he replied and ruffled his little brother’s hair fondly. Sam squeaked in indignation and batted Dean’s hand away, but continued eating in lieu of talking again.

They finished their dinner in companionable silence and Sam stayed in the kitchen to wash up whilst Dean sat down in front of the ancient television and flipped over to an episode of M*A*S*H. Sam hurried through his cleaning and joined his brother on the couch, snuggling onto the couch. Dean lifted his arm let Sam burrow into his side until he was comfortable.

They finished the episode, and once it was over, Dean flicked the TV off, throwing his brother a side glance as he did so. Sam sprang up and practically dragged his older brother to their bedroom, slamming the door behind them and pressing up against Dean’s chest. Dean immediately locked their lips together and wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist. Sam moaned into the kiss and raked his nails down the older boy’s sides. He gripped the hem of his brother’s t-shirt and whimpered when Dean wouldn’t let go of the back of his head. When he finally wrenched his mouth away, he threw his best puppy eyes up at his brother, fingering the threadbare t-shirt and tugging on it subtly.

“Dean,” Sam griped. “It’s my turn today.” Dean laughed and grabbed Sam’s ass.

"So it is, baby boy.” he whispered in his brother’s ear and bit down lightly on the lobe. Sam gasped but pushed the 19 year old away again. Sam threw a pouty face at his older brother and dropped to his knees.

“Fuck, yeah, Sammy.” Dean breathed and tangled his fingers into Sam’s hair. The night was going to be a long one, Sam would make that certain.

Sam and Dean (finally) getting together after Sam turns 18, because Dean just had to wait for Sam to be legal, and Sam happily settling into the routine of hunting, sleeping, and having sex with his older brother. But Sam coming back from grabbing dinner for them both after a routine salt and burn at one in the morning to find Dean on their bed with the waitress from the diner where they had had breakfast that morning, and Sam being so confused, wait, they’re not exclusive? But Dean said that Sam was it. He was the end game, no passing go, that was that. Sam certainly wasn’t even allowed to look at girls, let alone touch them. Dean always kicked Sam in the shin when he looked at a waitress for too long and smacked him upside the head for watching the ass in front of them bounce as whatever random girl walked down the street, always punched him in the arm for letting his eyes slip down to a girl’s chest. But Dean was allowed to sleep with other people? How was that fair? Righteous anger filled Sam as he stormed back out the door, dropping dinner on the table as he went. He strode back to the Impala and climbed into the back seat, debating on whether or not he should just leave Dean’s ass there and drive off without him. But Sam’s stuff was still in his duffle in the corner, and his favorite gun was underneath the pillow on his side of the bed.

Sam sulked in the car for well over 2 hours before the waitress stumbled out of their motel room, so drunk that she could barely walk, giggling on her way back to her car. Sam should’ve keyed it or something. After waiting until the girl left the parking lot, Sam skulked back into their room to find Dean passed out on their bed and the food eaten. Sam could smell the booze practically pouring off Dean, and one look at Dean’s blissed out face had all the indignant anger Sam felt whoosh out of him. Dean looked…happy, not like he did whenever he and Sam went at it. He always looked so worried whenever he fucked Sam, his face always drawn tight and his eyes unreadable, and Sam thought Dean was just concentrating, not hiding whatever he was feeling. So Sam packed up his things while Dean snoozed on, pulling his gun out from under Dean’s head without so much as a sleepy snort from Sam’s drunk older brother. Sam left his key on the table next to an empty take out box and quietly left, headed towards the one place he could; Stanford.