#s2e19

John, of course, is a bad dad and when Mary divorces him he leaves with Dean (still working on why Mary would let him take her son). When they're gone, she realizes she's pregnant with Sam, but she never tells him, never sees him nor Dean again. So she raises Sam as an only child alone.

21 years in the future, Mary has passed away while Sam is in Stanford, after being troubled with a call she received months ago. She never told Sam who was or what they told her, but he knew it disturbed her.

John died, too, while Dean was, again, in prison.

Sam and Dean meet there. Sam is an only child, sweet and spoiled, wide eyed and gullible. He's accused of running over a man with his car while drunk in a lonely street.

"He's mine," Dean announces the moment he sees the tall, sunkissed, terrified doe eyed boy.

"Hey, sweetheart," Dean greets once he can get near him. He jumps, deer caught in headlights. Dean tries to conceal his smirk, tries to softly smile instead. "First time around, I guess."

"Yeah," he sighs, brows pinching. "Yeah. Uh, sorry. Hey."

"I'm Dean," he introduces himself, thinking about a handshake but dismissing the idea.

"I'm Sam."

When they have to tell what they did to be there, Sam goes: "I... I had a drink or two. But-! But I wasn't drunk, I swear, I- I didn't kill anybody," he whisper-yells the last part. "I couldn't, I didn't, I know I didn't." And when he sighs is more like a sob. When he looks at Dean his eyes are wide and wet. Dean feels his cock twitch.

"Oh, honey, you don't want to know what I'm charged of," he replies when Sam asks.

And then Dean is cultivating something he's sure will be delicious once it ripes.

"What do you miss the most?" Dean asks, one day that it's exactly like the day before and the next.

"You mean, besides freedom?" Sam snorts. "I don't know, chocolate?"

Sam blushes when, next time he sees Dean, he's offering him a nice brand chocolate bar, all wolf smirk and heat in his eyes.