Samuel Colt climbed out of the older SAAB his dad drove and stared at the prep school before him, other young men like himself walking along the sidewalks toward the decorative doors. All the boys were dressed in identical uniforms, identical to the one he wore.

He had tried to convince his father public school was fine, that he could just as easily get scholarships for college in a public school as a private prep school, but his father would have none of it. He wanted his boy to succeed and to succeed you had to know the right people. The right people, in his father's mind, were the rich people. The Colts weren't rich. Decently middle class but even with the money he had won at various science competitions, chess competitions, and debate competitions, the prep school was nearly out of their affordability range. They had tried to cut corners as they could. None of his uniforms were new, but they were by no means shabby. His mother had let out the hem to its maximum so the pants were just barely long enough. The jacket was high end, and after some minor mending, it looked just fine. He didn't have the high end shirts the other boys likely wore, but they were nice enough that unless someone really looked, no one would notice. He hoped. The tie was new and the tie tack gold. His shoes were almost new and he had polished them up. Looking at the backpacks the others carried, he wished he had gotten a new backpack. His wasn't bad, but it wasn't one of the fancy expensive ones and all of his textbooks were used.

His parents were both working overtime, just to make sure Sam would be able to finish out his last two years of high school at the exclusive place. He had liked his old school, liked the teachers, and while he wasn't terribly popular, had some friends there he knew he would miss. Hell, he was already missing the familiar faces as he strode up the sidewalk. He hated not knowing a soul, not knowing his way around, and generally being the 'new' kid always sucked. They hadn't moved often, but had five schools he had attended and always took a while to settle in and learn the ropes. He tried to assure himself this place would be no different. Within a few weeks, it would be old hat. His stomach and all the butterflies in it belied that.

He barely made homeroom before the bell sounded and the desks were pretty much all filled. He was stuck up front trying to fold his tall lanky frame into his seat, his knees pressed up against the bottom of the desk and still his feet stuck out.

The dark haired teacher with a pinched upturned nose, small glasses perched on the bridge of it, didn't bother with roll call since he knew all the students. He looked at Sam.

"And you are?" he sniffed in a nasal voice.

"Samuel Colt, sir," Sam said.

The teacher looked over some papers. "Oh, yes, the young Einstein. Winner of countless competitions. I've heard about you. You'll find our school quite a bit more difficult that the public schools you are long accustomed to."

"Yes sir. I would expect so sir," Sam answered politely but irritated the man brought up he wasn't the rich boy he was trying hard to emulate. That wasn't going to score him any points in the popularity department.

"In fact, I imagine you'll find yourself much further down the ladder, no longer the smartest boy in the school."

"With the reputation of this school, I would expect no less," Sam replied smoothly, giving the man the most genuine smile he could manage while groaning inside. He was really ready to just go ahead and get to his first class so he could lose himself in the lessons. The first day was always the hardest he told himself. It would get better as the day progressed. He hoped.

By third period everyone in the school seemed to know about him. They stared and whispered and snickered. Dammit, so he seemed to be the only one in class with used text books and his clothes weren't brand new off the shelf and his backpack wasn't designer, couldn't the snobs cut him some slack? Then again, if they weren't snobs, they probably would.

He was dreading lunch as he crossed the lawns. At least he didn't have to really look like a ppor boy and bring his lunch. His father insisted that wouldn't do and had shelled out the extra outrageous sums to allow him to eat in the lunchroom. It would be the place the kids talked, his father told him, a good place to culture the sorts of friendships his father wanted him to have. Well, at this point, he didn't think he had seen anyone he wanted to be friends with.

Caught up in his own thoughts, he was ill prepared to find himself all but encircled by a group of older boys.

Eric Lancaster had spotted him the second he’d arrived.

He and his friends had been standing on the steps leading up to the front gate that morning, just shooting the breeze, when the car had pulled up. The older model “family” car sticking out like a sore thumb compared to the limos or sports cars the other kids were being dropped off in. His friends had begun snickering and pointing even before the tall lanky brunet climbed out of the vehicle.

The younger boy stuck out even worse than a sore thumb despite all his obvious efforts to look like he belonged here. Hell, maybe even sticking out worse because of those efforts. Unfortunately, for him, it was obvious to anyone with eyes in their head that he didn’t belong here. Not even close. Even if his clothes weren’t obvious hand me downs and barely fit him and his home cut longish hair wasn’t falling into his eyes.

It was the way he carried himself. The shy, deer in the headlights, look in his eyes as he hurried past them into the school building with the other students. Eric smirked as his eyes followed the boy inside.

The boy wasn’t bad looking. A little on the skinny side, and tall, but not as tall as Eric, who was a senior and captain of the Varsity Basketball team. He had a nice face. Cute even. Sweet looking full lips, that would look even better wrapped around cock. Eric bet he had a nice tight little ass too.

It had been a while since they’d had any fresh meat to play with that was so appealing. His last boy toy had transferred out of the school about a month ago. Broke his leg in three places falling down the bleachers... pity that. He hadn’t had time yet to find another plaything to amuse himself with.

With a face like that though, Eric knew there would be quite a few who’d want a piece of that ass. Eric was determined to get there first though. Hell, maybe even after he’d broken him in, he could pass him around for a few extra bucks. As long as he got to watch, of course.

Once the boy was out of his sight, Eric turned back to his friends. Of course they were more than willing to go along with his plans as long as they got their share of the spoils.

***

In a school like this, word traveled as fast as wildfire, and before first period was over Eric had learned the boy’s name. Sam Colt. Cute. No one knew the Colt family, of course. He’d expected that, he’d known the boy didn’t come from money the second he laid eyes on him, but it never hurt to be sure. Apparently the kid was some kind of super nerd as well. Not that Eric really cared about any other skills the boy might possess that didn’t involve him on his knees, but it was always nice to have a boy toy that could also write his English papers or do his Math homework for him.

They caught up with him outside while everyone else was heading into the building for lunch. It was really so easy Eric almost had to laugh. His friends coming up to the boy from behind, as Eric approached him from the front. Walking right into the younger boy and knocking the used books from his hands.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going.” Eric snapped, even though it was obviously his fault and he’d done it on purpose. He just wanted to see how the boy would react.

He had done his his homework, though in some cases he only knew names, not faces. For all the team sports he knew the faces of the players. Men liked to talk sports and if he could talk sports with his class mates, praising them for past victories, it would give him an edge his father said. Sam honestly had not been bothering to try to identify those said players, more worried about getting to places on time, learning teachers' names, and memorizing any kid's name he caught in passing conversation. After homeroom he had managed to get seated further back in the classes so he could watch and learn names and check out apparent skills and inter-relationships, without being obvious about it.

He stumbled back when the tall senior bumped into him and his books dropped to the ground in scattered disarray. Blonde, muscular, blue eyes, handsome and on the basketball varsity team, it was Eric Lancaster. The Lancasters had so much money Sam was surprised hundred dollar bills weren't sticking out of every pocket. His father was CEO of an investment firm, his mother had once been a model and now had her own line of clothing and perfume. Eric was the oldest, having a younger sister apparently as pretty as her mother and she had already won modeling competitions and scored a couple commercials and was the face for some line of kids clothes for the rich and famous. Eric was also, obviously, a potential bully. Sam's father would be beyond delighted if Sam could score a friendship with the senior. His mind flashed through options of response. Being a super geek, he had dealt with his share of bullies. Had his clocked cleaned a couple times, too, but at the same time standing up to them had earned him the respect of other classmates. First day though, he was just being tested. Was the new kid predator or prey, easy pickings or someone Lancaster might decide was cool enough to be friends with?

"My fault," Sam said, not leaning down and being classified as frightened prey gathering his books. People first, things later. First rule of the survival of geekdom. "Still getting my bearings. Hey, aren't you Eric Lancaster? Led the basketball team to the state championship last year. I hear that scouts are going to be watching you this year, if they haven't already offered you deals." He waited and watched, keeping his eyes friendly, smiling at the senior, hating that his dimples were probably plain as day. With any luck the oaf would grunt his displeasure and walk on. Sam had neither backed down nor pushed back. He did not want to get marked as prey by someone like Lancaster. He had little doubt Lancaster held power in this school and could make his life hell, as if being thrust into the middle of kids way out of his social standing wasn't going to be hell enough. If he could nail a friendship with the senior, it would surely make his life easier and he was all for easier when it came to social situations. Hell, maybe he had impressed the guy and maybe Lancaster was going to decide he was all right.

Eric couldn’t help but smirk in amusement at the younger boy’s reply, though he was a little surprised that the other boy already knew who he was. Well, that was good. No sense in beating around the bush then.

“That’s right. And you’re Sam Colt.” He stated simply.

A nobody. He didn’t say that it, but then again, it didn’t need to be said. They all knew that.

Still Eric allowed his gaze to travel appreciatively from the younger boy’s face all the way down his body. Damn, he looked even better up close. Those eyes… and fucking dimples to boot. He looked so damned sweet and innocent, even though he had to be at least sixteen. Eric wondered if the younger boy really was as innocent as he looked. That would be fucking awesome. He just loved shoving his huge dick up a sweet little virgin’s ass for the first time. Nothing better in the world.

Eric smiled at the younger boy. All charm, for now.

“So, heading to lunch? You’re not going to eat in there are you?” He asked, nodding over his shoulder to the building where the cafeteria was. The grounds mostly empty now that most of the other students had already gone inside or to their cars to spend the lunch period off campus.

“The food here is crap. There’s a place off campus a couple miles down the road where a lot of us hang out during lunch. Want to come with us?”

The way the senior eyed him made him feel a little self conscious. He ran in the mornings, and did a little light weight lifting, but he had recently gained some height and he swore what muscle he had built up had been eaten away by his growth spurt. If the guy was checking him out to see if he was an athlete, well, it was pretty apparent he wasn't. He could handle himself in baseball and such, though he really wasn't that good at basketball. His preferred sport was soccer. They had a soccer team and he thought he might see if he could try out for it. He doubted he would make varsity, but he might be able to make second string.

He tried to hide his delight at the young man's offer. His dad would be really pleased. Now he just had to be careful not to screw this up. Maybe the guy was an all right guy after all, and apparently Sam's response to his bullying was the right one. Unless of course they took him there and left him. He had to take the chance he wasn't being jerked around. "I'd planned to eat there. I didn't know we were allowed off campus for lunch. What school food doesn't suck? Yeah, that would be great. Let me get my books picked up. Can I ride with one of you?"

Seeing the younger boy’s eyes practically light up at his offer, Eric laughed. Though Sam probably thought he was laughing at the younger boy’s comment about the school’s food. This was really going to be too easy, which was a good thing because he really couldn’t wait to get into Sam’s pants…

But he would be patient. This kind of thing couldn’t be rushed after all. He didn’t want Sam to panic or something and run blabbing his mouth to someone. Not that they would believe the younger boy, but it was certainly an inconvenience he didn’t need.

So he’d give Sam a few days, or even a few weeks, to start to feel comfortable with him. Keep the younger boy close to him. Show Sam what it could be like if he was “friends” with someone like him. Once he felt that Sam was ready, he’d make his move. By then not only would Sam think that he was the one who’d led him on, but he’d be too worried about losing his newfound position on the social ladder to say no.

And if he did say no? Well, he’d learn pretty damned quick just how much of a hell Eric could make his life.

“Usually only the seniors are allowed off campus, but don’t worry about that. Just stick with us, Sammy. We’ll show you the ropes.” Eric replied, grinning. Waiting for the younger boy to finish picking up his things, and introducing his friends Cody and Adam to Sam, they all started for the parking lot. While they walked, Eric asked Sam about himself, and threw a friendly arm around his shoulders.

“You can ride with me.” He told the younger boy as he led Sam to the red Ferrari convertible sitting in one of the front parking spaces.

Over the next few weeks Sam couldn't believe his good fortune. With Eric as his friend, the other students treated him well, though he didn't understand the occasional odd looks he got. It didn't matter. Both his parents were ecstatic that Sam had managed to gain the friendship of the son of one of the most influential families.

Eric didn't ask him to help with his homework, so Sam knew Eric hadn't befriended him to use him like that. Sometimes Adam needed a little help with his physics and Sam was pleased to be able to offer aid. All three of the young men were obviously smart and honestly, Sam found it refreshing to be able to talk with others at his own level. Eric even got him a new backpack. Sam was a little reluctant to take it at first, but at Eric's insistence, he did. Sam's dad declared Sam simply couldn't be seen with a high profile young man like Eric in less than new clothing and he got two new sets. His dad also promised that Sam would get new books as soon as they could afford it. Sam didn't really care, but appearances were everything.

Eric always bought him lunch which was good since they ate a place that Sam wouldn't have been able to afford five days a week. Maybe his father had been right, this school was really turning out to be great. As an added bonus the classes were challenging for a change. With Eric marking him as being with the popular crowd, he suspected come next year, even though Eric would be gone, he would do all right.

Eric was waiting for Sam out next to his car so he could drive the younger boy home. The last few weeks had gone just as he had planned. He’d spent a lot of time and effort on Sam. Making sure to always have the younger boy at his side when he could, chatting and touching him, though never in more than a friendly fashion. Picking him up in his car in the morning and bringing him home in the afternoon. Taking him off campus at a variety of restaurants for lunch, and always paying for the younger boy’s meals. Even inviting Sam to come to watch his games, and hanging out with him after school whenever he could.

Not only did everyone in the school know that he had staked a claim to Samuel Colt and no one else had so much as dared to speak with the younger boy. But he’d spent so much time and money on Sam that the younger boy surely felt more than indebted to him. Today, Eric planned to make his move as he drove the younger boy home. He’d been patient, but now he was tired of waiting.

Sam had better not keep him waiting today.

Eric frowned and turned his head to look over his shoulder when he heard the song “Highway to Hell” suddenly blaring loudly through the parking lot. He scowled harder as the jet black 67 Impala roared to life and peeled out a parking spot a few rows down.

So, the freak was back. He’d been gone for so long, the last couple of weeks at least, everyone was sure he’d finally been expelled from the school, but apparently not. How the hell Dean Winchester had ever ended up in this school no one knew. He was an even bigger loser than Sam Colt, and without any of the benefits. One day he was going to make that freak pay big time for what he’d done…

Sensing that he wasn’t alone anymore, Eric wiped the scowl off his face as he turned to Sam, replacing it with a smile. “About time you showed up. Biology teacher giving you extra homework again?”

Sam was hoping the long winded biology teacher would shut up already. He had been to enough science competitions he knew good and well what he had to do, what paperwork he had to get signed, by whom, and where to send it all. All his 'yes sir' and 'thank you Mr. Conners' just seemed to encourage the man. Sam finally blurted out, "Eric's waiting for me to take me home, I need to go."

Mr. Conners closed his mouth abruptly. "Oh, I hadn't realized," he finally said. His gaze drifted up and down the young man. So this was newest conquests of the Lancaster boy. He really shouldn't be surprised. The young man was reasonably handsome and much the type Eric pursued. Eric liked them tall and thin and innocent. Though the boy probably was anything but innocent and was probably using Eric for social climbing. It certainly explained how a young man of rather modest upbringing was fitting in so well so quickly and avoiding the hazing any typical middle class student would receive. The only 'poor' student that hadn't been chased off was the Winchester boy, not that the students hadn't tried initially. Until that one…event…. The only reason Winchester hadn't been expelled was because Mr. Chalmers, the head of the school board and principal of the school, had made it quite clear that the boy could and would attend the school. The young man was certainly bright enough but really, he lived at a junk yard. It was a stain on the fine history of the school to have such white trash in attendance. And that abomination of a car sitting in the parking lot, like a festering pus filled sore in the middle of lily white perfect skin.

"Off you go, then, and get that paperwork back to me by the end of the week," Mr. Conners told him. If Sam Colt didn't have such a beautiful mind he wouldn't even be aiding him. At least the boy had gotten some proper new clothes and was beginning to look a bit more like he was worthy of the school.

Sam hurried out of the front doors of the school and saw Eric. He grinned and picked up his pace. Eric was so cool, not complaining about waiting on him, doing everything for him that he had. In just these few short weeks Eric had done so much for Sam. Sam swore he knew the names of most the kids in the school at this point and honestly Eric was kind of spoiling him, showing him what the lives of the rich and famous were like. He would have the same sort of money someday. Yeah, he would always be 'new money,' but it didn't matter.

The sudden roar of the muscle car drew his attention. He had noticed the black car earlier in the day as a new addition to the parking lot but hadn't thought much about it other than it didn't look like it belonged there anymore than his father's old SAAB would. He had seen a new face, now that he thought about it, but the young man hadn't been introduced in the couple classes they were in together. He remembered seeing other students veer away from the tall muscular senior, almost as if in fear and no one had spoken to him. He sat silently in the back of the class, one black notebook and a blue pen the only thing he carried. The loud rock music blaring from the black car's speakers seemed so…gauche.

The tires spun, burning rubber onto pavement as the senior gun the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. How tacky was that? He shook his head and turned back to the sleek red Ferrari.

"Hi. Sorry Eric, no, Mr. Conners was giving me all the paperwork for the upcoming science competition. God that man can talk. He acted like I'd never filled out a competition form before in my life, like I was third grader or something." He climbed into the car, carefully putting his backpack behind the seat. He was always careful both with the new backpack and inside Eric's car. He wasn't an aficionado of cars by any means, but he never wanted Eric to think he was disrespectful to the beautiful car or the fine backpack.

"You said you wanted to show me something today? I told my parents I didn't know when I'd be getting in. So where are we going?"

“It’s a surprise.” Eric answered Sam’s question cryptically, smiling charmingly at the younger boy in a way to instantly put him at ease.

Not that Sam needed to be put at ease. The younger boy trusted him completely at this point, as evident by what Sam had told his parents. He’d met Sam’s parents once when he’d dropped the younger boy off at his home after a game. Sam’s father had eagerly invited him inside for a drink, even though he was under age. Eric had refused the drink politely, of course. Not that he didn’t drink liquor, of course he did, but it wouldn’t do to ruin his nice and “responsible” image in front of the younger boy’s parents.

The Colts were obviously ecstatic that he had befriended their son. He’d met their type before. Willing to do just about anything to climb up the social ladder. Hell, they’d probably still be ecstatic even if they knew his real intentions towards their son. Sam’s father had practically shook his arm off as he was leaving when he invited their whole family to his father’s party at their home next week.

If they weren’t expecting Sam home any time soon, that even better for him.

Eric got in the car and put the top down, it was a nice day after all. He drove them past the edge of town, and finally pulled off on an old dirt road. On either side the grass grew so tall it would have been up to his waist if he got out of the car. At the end of the road there was the old burnt remains of a church. A huge willow tree grew next to it, practically overtaking the skeletal remains. It was so quiet you couldn’t even hear the sound of cars passing by on the main road, only the crickets and cicadas, or the occasional bird breaking the silence.

They were literally in the middle of nowhere.

Eric turned off the car and looked at Sam appraisingly. He could almost read the younger boy’s thoughts just from his expression, wondering why Eric had brought him way out here. Eric smiled at the younger boy as he asked almost nonchalantly.

“Are you a virgin, Sammy?”

Sam was thoroughly enjoying the ride. He liked to get out of the city occasionally but rarely got that chance. His parents weren't exactly nature buffs. He watched the busy streets give way to country roads. It seemed like they drove forever. He was curious what Eric was taking him to see but he didn't ask. It didn't matter. If Eric wanted to keep it a surprise, that was fine. Admittedly as the miles passed he was getting more and more curious. He honestly wasn't really sure where they were at this point. They had passed a main road a while back but he hadn't bothered to look to see what State Route it was. Eric obviously knew where he was going. Maybe Eric's family had some big old home out in the country. Maybe horses even. He had never been horseback riding, but always thought it might be fun. Maybe they were going to some small town with a small little diner that made some of the best fill-in-the-blank in the state.

It was such a beautiful day he let his mind wander, ticking through possibilities, some on the more ludicrous side, but it was fun to imagine. Eric had really opened his eyes to the way rich people lived. It was so different than his life in so many ways. It seemed as if they could simply do what they wanted when they wanted to. Maybe some day he would be so rich.

He straightened when they pulled onto the dirt road. The huge tree was magnificent. He wondered if maybe the old church had a cemetery, maybe a family cemetery where the first Lancasters were buried. He liked that sort of history and that only reinforced the idea that maybe Eric's family did have a house out here somewhere.

Sam turned to Eric when he shut the car off, waiting to see what the next step was. Checking out the church? Finding the cemetery? Just enjoying the view?

Eric's question caught him completely off guard. Was Eric going to, well, maybe get him a girl? Take him to a bar or something? He licked his lips. Normally he would lie, heck, what guy wouldn't? But he could see Eric being the kind of guy who would fix that for him. Maybe some girls were going to meet them there. That would be damned awesome.

"Uh, yeah," he felt himself blush a little. "Some, you know, petting, making out and stuff, but never actually done the deed. Are…are some girls going to meet us here?" Sam asked kind of hopefully. If there were girls coming, he had no doubt they would be babes.

Sam’s reply didn’t surprise him in the least. He’d guessed it the first time he’d laid eyes on the younger boy after all. But the confirmation and the cute little blush that stained the younger boy’s cheeks had Eric’s dick starting to get hard in his pants right there. Damned, he was just too cute. He was going to enjoy this. He was going to enjoy it a lot.

“Girls?” The older boy laughed a little at the question. Draping his arm over the back of Sam’s seat he let his fingers play boldly through the soft hair at the nape of the younger boy’s neck. He liked Sam’s hair. It was just long enough to give him something to hold onto when the younger boy went down on his cock. He used his other hand to unbuckle his seat belt.

“You don’t need to have girls to have sex, Sammy.” Eric replied, a predatory look settling over his features as he looked into Sam’s surprised eyes. He didn’t wait for Sam to reply, or even for him to really process what he’d said… or what it implied, before he cupped the back of the younger boy’s neck in a firm grip and tugged him closer. Crushing Sam’s lips with his own.

Sam was definitely confused. He felt Eric's fingers tickle the back of his neck. Eric was a touchy feely type guy, always doing things like draping his arm over Sam's shoulder, touching his arm to get his attention, slapping his thigh when they were getting up to leave from somewhere. But this, this was different. This sent a rippling chill right down his spine.

Didn't have to have girls? What? Of course you needed girls. Or your own hand to beat off while looking at a playboy pin up. He saw the gleam in the senior's eyes and was still trying to piece Eric's words together when Eric's mouth was on his. Eric's strong hand on his neck held him firm and he felt Eric's tongue force its way into his mouth. He made noises of shock and complaint. He didn't have any interest in guys. For all the comments Eric had made over the past few weeks, he wouldn't have imagined Eric was gay. But Sam wasn't, dammit. He tried to push Eric away so he could tell him that. Guys just weren't his thing. At all.

When Sam’s lips parted, obviously in shock rather than in invitation, Eric didn’t care. Pushing his tongue past those sweet lips to explore every inch of Sam’s mouth whether the younger boy wanted him to or not. Ignoring the sounds of protest rather than pleasure that came from Sam and when the younger boy tried to pull away from him, he merely gripped the back of Sam’s neck harder. Practically hard enough to bruise, to keep him there.

He didn’t care whether Sam wanted this or not. He wanted it, wanted him, and he was going to have him. One way or another. While it would have certainly been easier on the younger boy if he just gave it up without a fight, Eric certainly wasn’t above taking what he wanted. He’d done it plenty of times in the past. He always got what he wanted. Always.

Using Sam’s shock to his advantage, his other hand quickly unbuckled Sam’s seatbelt to give him better access. Unbuttoning the younger boy’s pants and shoving his hand down the front without really giving Sam a chance to process what he was doing. Though when the younger boy’s struggles grew even more intense, and he thought that Sam might actually dare to bite him to stop the kiss, Eric finally broke it himself.

Letting go of Sam’s hair and pulling back he backhanded the younger boy hard enough that Sam was probably seeing stars, though Eric didn’t take his hand out of the younger boy’s pants. Cupping the younger boy’s dick hard through his underwear in warning, as though the slap wasn’t warning enough.

“You think you can tease me for weeks and then not put out? I thought you knew how things worked, Sammy. I thought you were smart.” Eric said as he forced Sam’s face towards his again, and he smirked a little seeing the cut on the younger boy’s lip dripping blood down his chin. His ring must have caught it when he slapped the younger boy. Not that he cared.

The senior's grip was steel and his body immovable as he tried to shove Eric away. Breaking the kiss was equally impossible with the hand behind his head, fingers digging in and surely bruising him. Eric's tongue was everywhere in his mouth and he honestly didn't know what to do, unable to break away. There had to be a misunderstanding here. Eric was his best friend at the school. Eric looked out for him, had his back.

But now he had his front, as in Eric's hand was suddenly down the front of his pants and grasping at his dick through his undershorts. What the hell? This wasn't happening. This just wasn't fucking happening. Sam fought harder to get away. He could talk this out with Eric, clear things up. This was not what he had in mind when he wanted to lose his virginity.

When he couldn't break Eric's hold his jaw tightened ready to bite Eric, get him out of his mouth so they could fucking talk. Eric finally ended the kiss and Sam panting to catch his breath was about to ask Eric what the fuck he thought he was doing, get his hand off Sam's dick when Eric backhanded him so hard his ears rang and disorientation took over for a moment as his vision swam. The painful grasp on his cock made him inhale sharply and instinct took over making him freeze as he gasp in pain.

Sam felt liquid dribble onto his chin, his lip stung, and the side of his face was tight. He still couldn't believe Eric had hit him.

"I wasn't, I didn't mean to lead you on," Sam protested. "I-I thought you liked girls. I didn't know you thought I wanted—" the hard look in Eric's eyes scared him. He licked his lips, tasting his own blood, realizing now why they were out in the country. He had no place to run, and no one would hear him if he called for help. Hell, he was miles from anywhere and couldn't even recall seeing any farmhouses recently, not that he had been looking for any. "Eric, please, this is all just a misunderstanding. I'm not gay. I'm not interested in guys, just girls. You're my best friend, you've looked out for me, done things for me no one else ever has. But I can't do this." The look on Eric's face told him Eric didn't care. He started to reach back for the door handle to get out and his other hand moved to dislodge Eric's from his grip on his cock. He might be miles from anywhere, but being out in the middle of nowhere was better than what he feared Eric wanted from him.

Eric’s eyes followed the path of Sam’s tongue as it darted out to taste his lips and he got that much harder at the sight. The fear and confusion in the younger boy’s was exhilarating. He wondered if Sam was going to start crying soon. Eric liked it when they cried and begged like pathetic little girls. Sometimes he would even switch tactics for fun. Wiping away the tears, cooing comforting nonsense to calm down the idiotic blubbering, right before he shoved his dick so far up their little virgin asses they screamed.

The older boy laughed in genuine amusement when Sam said this was all a “misunderstanding”. That he hadn’t meant to “lead him on”. Calling him his “friend” and of all the things Eric had done for him. So fucking naive. But of course he couldn’t say that. He needed Sam to keep thinking that he’d asked for this, that it was his fault it was happening in the first place. Still he couldn’t resist one little jab.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you nothing is free in this world, Sammy?” Eric asked, laughing again as the younger boy started struggling ineffectively against him. However when he saw Sam go for the door, his expression turned dark once more. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

He was grabbed Sam’s wrist hard, twisting the younger boy’s arm behind his back, and shoving him against the door. Sam really wasn’t all that small for his age, but somehow his wrist and the bones underneath still felt as thin and fragile as a birds in his grip. Like if he tightened and twisted just so they would break. Eric tightened his grip and twisted hard, though not hard enough to break the younger boy’s wrist… yet… but if Sam pissed him off…

“You better be smart here, Sammy. I like it when virgins play a little hard to get, but you don’t want to piss me off.”

Eric was fast as well as strong and before Sam could get the door open he had grabbed his wrist. Eric was leaning across the gear shift but it was obvious he had done this before as he twisted Sam's arm behind him and all but slammed him against the door. Sam gasped in pain.

Nothing for free. Yeah, he should have known it was too damned good to be true. Why would the captain of the basketball team, one who had enough brains to be able to do his own homework, and was rich enough to probably buy the Eiffel Tower, want to befriend a poor geek like him? Jeremy, his friend from his old high school always told him he was naïve. He would have to call Jeremy and tell him he was right.

He still tried to struggle to break free but that only earned him more pain and Eric wasn't far off from breaking his arm. He had no doubt the senior would do it.

"All right," Sam snarled. "All right," he said calmer. "You want me?" Eric's face was close enough he leaned forward and crushed his lips against Eric's, shoving his tongue inside the other man's mouth, groaning before he finally pulled back. "Then you can have me. But I'm not free either. I'll be your bitch. But I expect nothing to change. Lunches at fancy places. My parents get to come to your family's parties." His eyes shone with defiance. He grabbed hold of the wrist that was shoved down his pants. "If you're going to feel me up, then do it right." He tugged Eric's hand up and out of his pants and slid it under his undershorts and gave a small shuddering moan at the senior's touch as he guided Eric's hand back and forth across his dick, half closing his eyes as if he was enjoying the feel.

When he opened his eyes, he raked his gaze down Eric's body. "You wanna fuck me?" Sam whispered. "Then you do it right. I'll be the best god-damned fuck of your life, but you gotta treat me right. No more hitting. And not in this car." He paused a little and swallowed, his cheeks flushing, "But I've never given a blow job. You're going to have to…teach me how to do that right. You're going to have to teach me a lot. You keep being my sugar daddy and I'll be your whoring bitch for the rest of the year. I'll be so good you'll miss me when you go to college. Of course, in two years, you're going to make sure I get into the right college. I want to be a lawyer. I'm sure you can help grease some palms to make scholarships a little easier to get." He reached between Eric's legs and palmed him, feeling the solid erection already there. "So what do you want? You want me to scream? You want me to fight? That make you hot? You want me to seduce you? You want me to beg? Tell me what you want you want most."

Sam hoped to hell Eric was buying it. He couldn't deny Eric's hand on his cock was getting him a little hard. He hated to think what he might have to do before he made his move, but he would do what he had to to get away from this sadistic rapist bastard and it was obvious that he was going to have to use guile to do it. Eric was fast and he was strong. Sam was going to have to be sneaky and fight dirty.

It wasn’t often that Eric was taken by surprise, but when the younger boy suddenly crushed his mouth against his in a sloppy kiss, he couldn’t deny he froze for a few seconds as his upstairs brain tried to process this unexpected turn of events. His lower brain however was having no difficulty with the situation. His dick hardening it seemed with every word Sam spoke until he was practically throbbing painfully inside of his shorts even before the younger boy shoved his hand into his underwear. A groan escaped his lips as well as he curled his fingers around Sam’s flaccid shaft, though it wasn’t flaccid for very long. He could feel the younger boy getting harder as he stroked him.

Eric licked his lips hungrily. Now they were talking. He smirked down at the younger boy as Sam offered to give him everything he wanted and more. For a price, of course, but Eric had expected no less. Everyone had a price. He just hadn’t expected Sam’s to come so cheaply.

“I knew you were smart.” Eric praised as he relaxed his hold on the younger boy’s wrist. Groaning again when he felt Sam touching him so boldly, making him even harder even through the layers of clothes he was wearing. His fingers of his free hand once more found their way into Sam’s hair, gripping tightly, but a little more gently than the first time now that he knew that the younger boy wasn’t going to fight him.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m going to teach you plenty. First thing I’m going to teach you is how to put that pretty mouth of yours to much better use.” He said before pulling Sam back into a kiss and practically fucking the younger boy’s mouth with his tongue. Running his hand up and down Sam’s dick and letting his thumb play teasingly around the crown as he twisted his hand with every upstroke. Reluctantly he let go of Sam’s cock and pulled his hand out of the younger boy’s pants, but only so he could undo his own and get his dick out. Flushed red and already dripping precome with excitement.

He broke the kiss, taking a moment to admire Sam’s swollen red lips, before he started to push the younger boy’s head towards his lap.

Wincing a little at the way Eric's hand wrapped his fingers in his hair, Sam jerked his head away for a moment then pressed his head back into Eric's hand.

"Not so rough," Sam scolded.

Sam couldn't help but react to Eric's expert work on his cock, but the way Eric was tongue fucking him almost made him want to hurl. The little twist Eric gave his stiffening dick made it that much easier to moan into the young man's mouth. Sam was relieved when Eric's hand finally left his shaft. He'd take blue balls to coming in that bastard's hand any day of the week.

It was an effort not to just rip away from Eric when Eric pulled out his dripping, disgusting cock. When Eric pushed his head toward it, Sam resisted, batting at Eric's hold. "I'm not going to try to give my first blow job leaning over the fucking gear shift. I'd probably break my ribs on it or something and bash my head into the steering wheel. Let me come around to the other side."

He waited for Eric to relent his hold, but held his ground. When Eric finally did, he zipped up and buttoned his pants and got out of the car. His mind raced as he made his plans and felt his heart pound in his chest. He walked around and opened Eric's door and got down on his knees. Grabbing hold of Eric's leg, he motioned for Eric to turn toward him, to put both feet on either side of him. He looked up into the older man's face as he finished unzipping his pants. He slid his hands down the back of Eric's jeans, squeezing his ass, then started to slowly pull down his pants. He leaned over, biting his lip and steeling himself for what he had to do then licked the dripping tip of Eric's cock.

"That tastes…" so fucking god awful I'm going to puke "…good," he said, putting surprise and awe into his voice.

Eric frowned at all the younger boy’s demands. He was going to have to break the little fuck out of that habit really soon, but for now he’d let Sam get away with it. As long as the younger boy ultimately did what he wanted right now, he didn’t care too much. He’d have plenty of time to train Sam how to be the bitch he really wanted him to be.

So he let go of Sam’s head, though he watched the younger boy like a hawk as Sam got out of the car and came around the other side. If Sam tried to make a run for it, he was going to make the younger boy wish Eric had stopped with just breaking a rib.

But Sam didn’t try to run and Eric watched with undisguised lust as the younger boy went down on his knees on the ground outside his door. Smirking as he let Sam get his pants down and position him the way he wanted.

The first tentative swipe of Sam’s tongue over the head of his cock pulled an obscene groan from his throat and his fingers once more found their way into Sam’s hair.

“Knew you were a cock whore the second I laid eyes on you.” Eric replied with a smirk, trying to push Sam’s head back down to his dick where it belonged. Wanting to feel that sweet hot mouth wrapped around his dripping cock, sucking him off, swallowing his load... “A lot more where that came from, you little slut. Get to it.”

Sam pulled back a little and batted Eric's hands away. "You're too anxious. Let me learn my own way. Let me play." He leaned down and sucked on the tip of Eric's cock, tonguing open his slit and trying not to choke. He licked up Eric's cock next. "When I get good at this, you can wrap your fingers in my hair all you want. Please, let me try this my way first. You don't like it, if I don't do good, then you can show me your way."

He went back down on Eric's cock pulling the crown into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. He had apparently succeeded in convincing Eric not to hold his head in place. Good. Now he had to work Eric up to the right point, as disgusting as that was going to be. But Eric was right. He was smart.

He worked slowly on the older boy, wrapping his tongue around the rock hard shaft, pulling in the crown and sucking on it, listening with disgust as Eric moaned and filth spilled out of his mouth, telling Sam what a good slut he was. Finally he Eric where he wanted him. Eric was already beginning to give small thrusts into his mouth and soon he knew Eric's hands would be back on his head, holding him there as he fucked his mouth. After his mouth, he had little doubt he would soon have Eric's dick up his ass and that just wasn't going to happen.

He pushed himself to his feet but kept working on the man's cock. He pulled off long enough to mutter. "Had enough of that damned door open alert."

He reached across and pulled the keys out of the ignition. He made it sound like he dropped them on the floor thought he kept hold of them, as he suddenly went down fully on Eric to distract him. The sound Eric made, the needy groan, pleased him. Eric was going to be hurting in more than one way.

He pulled off, sucking hard, then straightened. Stepping back, he grabbed the heavy car door and slammed it as hard on Eric's legs as he possibly could and then took off at a dead run for the burned out remains of the church and into the high grass beyond, grimly pleased by the sounds of pain-filled cursing coming from Eric. He hoped he'd broken the bastard's leg. Once he was deep into the field he lobbed the keys to the car out into the field then he bent over so he couldn't easily be seen. Woods weren't far off and he knew once he made it there, he was home free. Out in the middle of fucking nowhere, but that was a helluva lot better than the alternative.

Eric scowled again as Sam batted his hands away, but when the younger boy started licking and sucking on his cock like a good little whore, he didn’t care. Sam was sloppy and unpracticed, but that didn’t really matter. The younger boy was making up for lack of experience with his enthusiasm.

“That’s right. Fuck, suck me down deeper you little slut.” Eric moaned, lifting his hips to force his dick deeper into Sam’s hot mouth when those lips finally wrapped around him and took him inside. Jesus fuck, but the little bitch was going to be a great fuck once he got Sam all broken in and trained.

When the younger boy’s mouth suddenly left his cock, Eric cursed and glared at Sam. If Sam’s hand didn’t keep working on his dick at least, he would have been a lot more pissed off. Alright, so it was a little annoying. So he didn’t stop Sam from taking the keys out of the ignition and since the younger boy went right back down on his cock when he was through, he didn’t think any more of it. Instead groaning and bucking in pleasure into the little sluts sweet mouth.

“Fuck yeah… yeah… take it all…”

When Sam pulled off his dick again his groan of complaint quickly changed to a scream of pain when the door slammed against his legs. It hurt so bad for a moment all he could see what white behind his eyes.

“You mother fucking cock slut! I’m going to kill you!” Eric cursed, enraged and in pain, and when he forced his tearing eyes open he saw Sam’s back disappearing into the tall grass. His anger made him push through the pain as he forced the door back open. It didn’t look like Sam had broken anything, but one of his legs were bleeding badly.

Eric stumbled to his feet, yanking up his pants and cursing again in pain as he tried to limp after the younger boy as fast as he could. He was going to kill that little bastard. He was going to beat him to within an inch of his life, fuck him raw and bloody, and then leave his sorry ass out here for the crows to peck at in the morning.

But the grass was too fucking long. He couldn’t see a damned thing. Eric searched for almost an hour but there was no sign of the younger boy anywhere and his leg was throbbing so bad he could barely walk. At least he had a spare set of keys in his glove box, but that didn’t do anything to cool his murderous rage.

“The next time I see you, you little fucker, I’m going to make you wish you were never born! Do you hear me?!” Eric yelled at the top of his lungs, he didn’t know if Sam was even still around, but he didn’t really care anymore as he limped back towards his car. Cursing and muttering and promising all kinds of retribution for this. He smiled in some measure of satisfaction at that. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know where to find Sam eventually… and he planned to make fully good on every promise he made.

Sam didn't stop running until his lungs were pumping like bellows and his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it had bruised the inside of his chest. He finally slowed to a walk, his legs burning with the exertion. He had probably run three miles through woods and fields but at the fastest pace he could manage. He was cut up and scratched from branches and brambles and had ended up on his hands and knees a few times. The right knee of his pant's leg was ripped and he could feel, now that the adrenalin was fading, that he'd scraped his knee up pretty good. His palms stung, equally scraped up and he plucked twigs from his mop of hair. He was used to jogging a couple miles in the morning, but the full out run was definitely something he was not used to. He didn't make a three minute mile by any means with all the obstacles, but still it was probably only ten or fifteen minutes since he had escaped the lecherous fucker. He stopped finally and listened for the sound of cars. He thought he heard some off to his left and headed that way at a fast walk, still gasping for air.

Hesitating as he approached the road, he wondered if Eric would be trolling the roads looking for him or if he had called for reinforcements. They were probably an hour outside of town and it had only been a half hour. Eric probably hadn't even gotten his car started yet. Feeling a little better at that thought, he approached the road. He would try to hitch a ride. Eventually Eric would surely be on the road back into town, but Sam figured he had a good half hour at the least, but it would probably be more like three or four before he had to worry about it. Traffic was light on the country road so every time he heard an approaching vehicle he turned, ready to dive into what ever cover he could if it turned out to be Eric and his ferarri. Car after car passed him and he sighed. It most definitely was not his day.

Close to an hour after he had escaped he saw an approaching tow truck and frantically waved it down. The tow truck slowed down, "Singer's Salvage" painted on the side of the door. He briefly appraised the older grizzled man behind the wheel. He decided he looked harmless enough, but then, he had thought of Eric as his best friend. He had proven he was an idiot when it came to reading people but he approached the passenger side door all the same.

"Sir, can you maybe give me a ride back to town? I've got twenty bucks for your trouble."

Bobby Singer was almost daydreaming as he drove back toward the salvage yard and his home. Soft pangs of hunger were beginning to nibble at him, and he hoped Dean had dinner going when he got in. He'd towed a wreck of a car to a home three hours away. The young man had been excited when he found the old Buick rusting away in his yard. The frame was twisted, the seats half rotted and the engine had been rummaged through for parts but the block and cylinders were still in it. The young man had been adamant; it was just like the car his father had owned and he wanted to restore one and this one, apparently was perfect. He offered Bobby enough money to make it worth his while to slap on some used tires and haul the beast the hundred and fifty miles. The man's place was littered with rusting junk heaps, and Bobby only shook his head until the man took him in the garage and showed him a freshly restored thunderbird. He promised to send Bobby a picture when he got the Buick Electra rebuilt. Bobby had to admit, he was kinda looking forward to seeing it.

He almost didn't see the kid in time to slow down. Based on the uniform, the teenager was obviously from the same school Dean attended. He hit the brakes and pulled off to the side of the road almost reluctantly. He really wasn't all that keen on the rich folk that attended that school, but some of them were good people.

The teen came running up and looked in the open passenger side window hopefully. The kid had a good bruise along the side of his dirt smeared face, his lip was cut, grass and twigs were caught in his hair and his face showed scratches like he had been running through the woods.

Twenty buck was twenty bucks. And the kid looked like he could use the help. "Yeah. I'll take you," Bobby grunted.

Bobby moved some papers, a clipboard and some empty coffee cups, through them behind the seat so the kid had a place to sit and motioned in the young man in. Almost out of habit he flipped from the jazz station to a classic rock station.

"The jazz is fine, sir," Sam said as he got in. The truck was a mess of papers and litter, but it wasn't dirty. He sort of expected black grease on the dashboard and the inside of the door dark with years of filth. It was actually looked pretty nice, except for being messy.

The old man cocked an eyebrow at him. He hardly realized he had done it. If a teen age boy was riding shotgun with him, the radio had to be on the classic rock station, plain and simple. He gave a soft chuckle and flipped it back to the jazz station he liked. He had just gotten back in range of it, so he had to admit, he was glad. "Least you got good taste in music."

"I'm Sam. You're Mr. Singer?"

"Bobby," the man said. "So what happened to you? What are you doing way out here?"

Hesitating, Sam focused his gaze out the front window. "Hazing prank," Sam said simply, but the words fell flat, and sounded like the lie they were.

"Uh-huh," Bobby said. "Want to elaborate on that a little, boy?"

"Not really," Sam said stiffly. He'd had time to think while on the road. He had to go to school tomorrow. His books were in Eric's car. And wished that was the worst of it. He had worried about Eric making his life hell on that first day. After a thing like this? God, he'd be lucky to even survive the week. Well, after what happened, his parents would surely send him back to public school. The worst would be that Eric knew where he lived. It still might be bad, hell, probably would be, but if he returned to that school…he shuddered at the thought. He realized Eric had hardly let him out of his sight. He hadn't bothered to make friends with anyone Eric didn't introduce him to.

Bobby gave the kid a sidelong glance then shrugged. He'd already taken in one stray. This kid obviously had family and money or he wouldn't be in that school. Though the boy's clothes had been pretty abused by whatever happened, they were brand new clothes.

Bobby let the kid be, letting him stew in silence. When he reached the gravel drive to his place he turned onto it and a cloud of dust followed in the tow trucks wake.

"You can call your parents from my office," Bobby told him. He'd be damned if he was going to go driving into the Heights. He had to piss, his hunger pangs had grown, and he was damned tired of sitting in the truck.

The kid pulled out his wallet and handed him the promised twenty. Bobby noted the wallet was an old leather one, pretty beat up, and anything but designer. There wasn't a single credit card in that wallet and only a few other bills. Looked like maybe a few ones and a five. He reappraised the boy. The boy didn't come across as one of those high and mighty rich folk. He mentally shrugged. Didn't matter. He led the young man up the steps and into his house. He waved the boy into the first room on the right. It was a small messy office with receipt books and notes and maps. The black speaker phone sat on the beat up wooden desk.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Singer," Sam said. God, what the hell was he going to tell his parents. "Uh, what's the address here?"

Bobby picked up a business card on the desk and handed it to him.

Bobby walked further into the house. Wasn't like there was anything worth stealing in that office. He kept his money elsewhere and credit card receipts were in a lock box.

"Dean, I'm back," Bobby called into the kitchen, the smell of burgers wafting into the rest of the house. That boy was going to turn into a cheeseburger, and Bobby right along with him. He hit the restroom then walked into the kitchen.

Dean had heard the old Tow Truck pull in up the driveway, so he wasn’t all that surprised to hear Bobby’s voice a few minutes later.

“Burgers will be done soon.”The young man called back from the kitchen. He gave the burgers he was frying up for dinner another flip, then stepped away from the stove. Cursing under his breath as he practically had hop over Rumsfeld on his way to the fridge to grab the cheese. The old dog barely lifted his head to watch him as though Dean was the one in his way, and of course didn’t move. Dean sighed and the dog’s tail thumped a few times on the floor before he lowered his head back down on his paws.

He knew Bobby didn’t like the old dog in the kitchen, especially when he was cooking, but Dean could use the company. After he’d gotten home from school he changed and spent most of the day separating the scrap metal from the wrecks that could at least be used for parts. After that, he went to work on one of the cars he was in the middle of restoring for a client. The engine was almost completely rebuilt, and the body work was almost finished. He was just waiting on one more part and then he could finish the interior and paint job. It would certainly bring in a pretty penny once he was finished.

After working for a few hours on the restoration he’d gone inside once it started to get dark and started dinner. Reluctantly he had fished out his homework to do at the same time. His history book sat open on the counter, propped up between the bread and condiments on the shelf. The pages were being splattered by hamburger grease, but Dean didn’t really give a fuck.

He hated history. In fact, he hated all of his subjects at school. He hated school in general. The only reason why he went at all was because he knew Bobby would kill him if he dropped out at this point. Dean had wanted to drop out two years ago, but the older man hadn’t let him. Insisting he needed a stupid education that Dean would never use anyway. Though Dean had to admit, sometimes he didn’t mind going, if only to piss off all the stuck up assholes that wanted him gone. The teachers as well as the students. The only reason why he didn’t let himself flunk out was because it pissed them off even more when he did well.

Dean smirked to himself. It was the little things in life that made it worth living.

“How many slices you want?” Dean asked the older man when Bobby walked in, dropping the cheese slices onto the sizzling burgers in the pan to melt.

"Well, how many do I always want, you idjet. Two. And about half the onions you try to put on my burger." He sighed. "No, no onions. We got company. One a yer classmates. Picked him up on the road about forty miles out, says it was a hazing prank but weren't very convincing. Says his name is Sam and looks like he's probably a sophomore. He's calling his parents but the boy's probably hungry. Throw on another burger. He can have mine. And I'll eat some green beans instead of those greasy French fries. How many times I gotta tell you, you gotta start eating more vegetables. Yer gonna die of a coronary 'fore yer thirty. And don't be giving me that crap 'bout the lettuce and tomatoes being your vegetables."

*

The old black leather chair creaked softly as he sank into it. He really wanted something to drink. All he could taste was the disgusting flavor of Eric. But he needed to call his parents first. Gathering his courage he called his house. After the fourth ring the answering machine picked up.

"Mom? Dad? You there?" Getting no response he huffed. "Eric he…we aren't friends anymore. He's not the good guy I thought he was. I'm at Singer's Salvage. The number here is 555-266-5500. I need you to come get me. Please call as soon as you get in so I know you're on your way." He hung up the phone. When his parents went out, a lot of times they didn't get back until at least ten, sometimes a lot later. He could try to walk home but what if Eric or one of Eric's friends spotted him?

"I'm not going to hide like a frightened rabbit, dammit," Sam muttered. It probably wasn't more than ten miles to his place, maybe less. His legs already ached and he was thirsty and even a little hungry but if he got some water from Mr. Singer, he could probably make it home in an hour or two. There was cheap pizza in the freezer. That would be okay. He sat there a minute longer, tired, his adrenalin all used up, leaving exhaustion in its wake. Forcing himself to move he got out of the chair. He stood outside the office door.

"Mr. Singer, my parents aren't home and I'm not sure when they will be. I'm going to walk. Could I get a glass of water and use your bathroom before I go?"

Bobby glanced at Dean. "Go get the boy and bring him in here. He's not walking all the way to the Heights, even if he is a spoiled rich kid. And he needs a good meal. Don't give me that look. I'll finish getting your burger and fries ready for both of you. Now git."

Dean chuckled and plopped down two slices of cheese on Bobby’s hamburger, though he paused and looked at the older man questioningly when he said they had company. Company? They never had company. Sure people came by the salvage yard during business hours but they were clients, not company. Plus it was after hours. Dean hadn’t heard anyone else come with the older man either, that’s what probably bothered him the most.

Too much damned school. Maybe he was losing his edge.

When Bobby explained to him that it was one of his classmates Dean didn’t bother to hide his scowl of displeasure. What the hell was one of those stuck up rich brats doing here? Those bastards knew better than to come around here. Dean had made sure of that.

Though the fact that Bobby said he’d picked him up on the road so far out of town threw him a bit. A hazing prank? Yeah right… whatever… Though for the life of him Dean couldn’t really think of any ulterior motives the boy… Sam… might be here for. It’s not like the boy could have known that Bobby was going to be driving by and agree to pick him up.

Grumbling to himself anyway, Dean turned back to the stove and threw on another burger despite his better judgment. Fine if Bobby wanted to let the boy call his parents for a ride or something, but why did he have to eat here too. The brat would probably only turn his nose up at their offer of food anyway. But if he did, he supposed Dean could always eat the second burger himself anyway.

He was still muttering darkly to himself and ignoring Bobby’s reproachful glares boring into the back of his head when he heard the other boy’s voice from the hallway. Stuck up brat probably didn’t even want to share the same room with them. Bad enough his pampered ass had to touch the seat of Bobby’s old tow truck…

Still… he was going to walk home? Not call a cab? Or even a limo service? That had to be a first.

Dean threw Bobby a glare when the older man told him to go bring the other boy into the kitchen. Oh hell no, Bobby was not brushing that spoiled rich brat off on him! Dean opened his mouth to protest but the “look” from Bobby, the one that clearly said I’m not too old to kick your ass, had him shutting his mouth again even though it was twisted in displeasure. He really didn’t want to have a fight with Bobby tonight, so Dean merely grabbed a towel to wipe off his hands, and threw it at Bobby’s head on his way out the door to fetch the older man’s newest stray pup.

Stepping out into the hallway and getting his first good look at the other boy, Dean’s first thought was Sam didn’t look anything like he’d been expecting. It wasn’t just the ripped and dirty clothing, the bruised face, and spots of blood here and there either. It was the wide eyed deer in headlights look on Sam’s face. Dean’s eyes zeroed in on the younger boy’s swollen and cut lip. Hazing prank… right…

“The bathroom’s this way.” Dean finally said, a lot less sharply than he’d originally intended. He led the way down the hall. Sure he could have just pointed Sam in the right direction, but he told himself he didn’t want Sam to wander around and steal something. Not that they had anything worth stealing to spoiled rich boys, but still.

Dean went into the bathroom first and pulled open the cabinet under the sink. He fished out one of their first aid kits, placed it on the sink, then turned to Sam standing in the doorway.

“First aid kit, use what you need, we’ve got plenty. Towels…” Dean pointed behind him on the rack. “If you want to wash up real quick. Bobby’s making extra food if you’re hungry.”

With that, Dean pushed past the younger man to let him inside the small bathroom.

Sam frowned. The young man seemed familiar. He must have seen him around but he couldn't fathom where. His family could barely afford the school. He doubted, no offense meant to Mr. Singer, that this family could. Still, after Eric, the young man's presence sent a spike of fear through him. It took him a moment to make himself move and follow after the young man.

Sam waited at the door, unable to help his curiosity as to what the man was doing. When he saw the first aid kit, he felt some muscles in his shoulders unkink. As soon as the man stepped out, Sam stepped in. He wasn't sure what he wanted more, water to rinse away Eric's flavor and soothe his dry throat, or to piss. He decided pissing was the best first option because he really, really had to go. He remembered Eric's hand on his dick and suddenly wanted—no needed a shower. He hoped they wouldn't mind. He shed his clothes quickly and barely let the water warm up. Washing himself quickly, he focused on washing Eric's touch from his cock and then carefully cleaned way the dirt. Every scratch on his face stung and his palms were a lot rawer than he thought, now that he got a look at them. He quickly rinsed his hair, washing out the sweat and untangling the the small twigs and such still caught in his hair. He was out of the shower in under five minutes and hurriedly dried himself off. He knee and a few other scratches had begun to bleed. After cleaning them with alcohol that made his breath hiss, he smeared them with antibiotic ointment and bandaged them. There really wasn't much he could do for his hands. They were just scraped up.

Quickly redressing, he carefully cleaned up the loose packages of the bandages he used and closed the kit. He hung his towel back up and combed his fingers through his wet hair. He felt much better now. He replaced the kit from where he and seen the young man extract it and then headed out. Catching a whiff of the burgers his stomach churned noisily. He hadn't realized just how hungry he was. He saw a fresh burger cooking and two places already set, the plates filled with homemade French fries and the steaming burgers loaded with cheese and onions and everything. God it looked good.

"Thank you sir, for letting me clean up. I feel much better. He slid into the chair where the place setting was empty. "Can I help with anything? You should eat before your dinner gets cold."

"This is my dinner," Bobby said from beside the stove. "That's yours. You eat before it gets cold."

Sam honestly didn't waste anytime shifting to the other seat. He wasn't just hungry, he was starved. He took a bit bite of the hamburger, groaning in delight. As soon as he swallowed that first bite. "This is awesome Mr. Singer. Thank you so much. I-uh-only have a few dollars left but I'll gladly pay for your hospitality. He poured ketchup on his plate and dipped in one of the French fires. It was perfectly crunchy. "I sure wish my mom would cook fries like this."

He shifted his attention to Dean. "I'm Sam. I didn't catch your name," he said politely.

Dean stood out in the hall outside the bathroom door listening until he heard the shower start, then he shook his head with a sigh and headed back to the kitchen. Really, what kind of person would be so desperate for a shower that they’d be willing to do it in a complete stranger’s home rather than waiting ten minutes or so to shower in their own?

There was a pretty disturbingly obvious answer to that, especially considering Sam’s appearance, and especially considering Dean did attend the same school as Sam. He knew the kinds of things that went on there all too well.

Dean shook his head again as he walked into the kitchen, told Bobby that Sam was getting cleaned up, and grabbed the two plates loaded with the burgers and fries. It wasn’t his problem. He had his own problems to deal with, and then some. The young man reminded himself as he set the plates on the table and dug into his own food without waiting.

Sam didn’t take long in the bathroom. Which was a good thing because Dean was only giving him about ten minutes before he would have gone to check up on him, make sure he wasn’t wandering around and getting into something he shouldn’t. Dean glanced up from his plate briefly when the younger boy wandered in. Sam looked better. Still bruised and his clothes torn up, of course, but he looked less frightened and jumpy at least.

Though again, he was taken a little by surprise when the younger boy actually offered to help Bobby fixing his meal. For a second Dean had thought he’d be getting two burgers after all when the younger boy didn’t sit in the place that Dean had prepared for him. But he couldn’t help but grin a little when Sam started in on the burger like he was starving and the almost pornographic sound of appreciation Sam made pleased him though. If there was one thing Dean knew how to cook well, it was burgers and fries.

Of course Sam thought that Bobby had made the meal, but he didn’t bother correcting the younger boy’s assumption. He did toss Bobby a little smug grin when Sam praised his fries. Too bad he’d never been able to win the argument with Bobby that fries were technically vegetables because the potatoes grew out of the ground.

He was a little surprised when Sam turned his attention to him. He was sure that the younger boy would have been more than happy to ignore his presence. Most people did.

“Didn’t throw it.” Dean replied. Though catching the glare that Bobby was throwing at him now from the corner of his eye, he sighed.

“Dean.” He said curtly, and turned his attention fully back to his meal to dissuade any further communication. He knew that if Sam weren’t here Bobby probably would be smacking him on the back of the head by now for being rude. But then again, if Sam wasn’t here, then there wouldn’t be an issue in the first place.

The young man's clipped response made Sam sigh. Yeah, he was always a freak, no matter where he ended up. Why would the young man want to talk with him? He was a bruised up, clothes torn, complete stranger sitting in the young man's house and eating his food. He was lucky Mr. Singer was nice enough to pick him up. At least he hoped these two strangers were nice and nothing like Eric. A pretty façade hiding a bastard of a soul.

He realized it was probably pretty stupid to take a full fledged shower in a stranger's house. They probably thought it was weird too. As weird as they probably thought he was. He didn't suppose it mattered. It wasn't like he would ever see these two again. Since it was pretty obvious Dean didn't want to have anything to do with him, and Bobby hadn't either on the ride back to his place, he stayed quiet. His gaze swept the room curiously.

The kitchen was old, like 1950's old, but there was a microwave on the counter. The linoleum floor was worn, but still, it was clean except for some muddy paw prints. He realized abruptly that there was a dog lying on the floor near Dean's chair. It was a big dog, like a junk yard dog ought to be, but it certainly didn't seem ferocious like a junkyard dog ought to be. That was probably just as well since he really didn't need another animal pawing at him today. One had been more than enough. He had seen all the old books in the room he had passed through to reach the kitchen. Many didn't have names on their binders and of those that did, a lot were in Latin or languages he didn't recognize. He would have loved to perused them. There were a few books on the table by the back door. They were old books and the Latin titles in gold on their bindings suggested they were about demons and monsters if he was translating the worlds correctly. Beside the books was an open backpack filled with more books, text books. So Dean was in college. He wondered which one. Probably the community college, but he could be wrong. He wondered what Dean might be taking in college. He looked kind of rough around the edges, honestly, the type of guy you really didn't want to meet in a dark alley. He laughed bitterly to himself, yeah, well he would rather meet Dean in that alley than Eric. When Bobby shifted, flipping his burger and stirring the green beans he spotted the history book propped up on the counter. The words were out before he remembered the young man didn't want to talk with him.

"Your school uses the same history book we use. I didn't realize that was a college book. But doesn't that book suck? And the questions are so lame. Worse, my history teacher is an idiot. My new school is suppose to be the best of the best…I thought it was. Now," he shook his head. Finishing with a mutter he added softly, "I'll be lucky not to be in the morgue by the end of the week." Sam swallowed hard, realizing that though it was unlikely, he hoped, that Eric would actually kill him, there were a lot of alternatives that would be extremely unpleasant. Odds were he had only delayed the inevitable. Who would believe him? Eric was the darling of the school. He was nothing and no one. Come tomorrow he was probably going to get the shit kicked out of him. By the whole basketball team. Maybe could slip off to the closest public high school. It could be in the slums with gangs and he would probably still be better off than setting foot on that campus ever again.

"I wish I were in college," Sam sighed. "My parents put me in this stupid private school." He looked down at his school uniform. "But after today, I'm going to try to convince them the school isn't for me. Maybe they'll let me enroll in the public high school." He knew they wouldn't. They had already paid for the year for him. Maybe after Eric beat him up enough times they would. "I wish I was back at my old school," he said softly.

Sam reluctantly stopped eating when the plate was still half full. He was still hungry but running on a full stomach was a bad idea and he wasn't really sure how far he had to go. "I guess I better get going before it gets too late. It was really good Mr. Singer." He wiped his hands on the napkin, hissing a little as salt got into some of the scrapes. "Thank you so much for picking me up and giving me a ride," Sam said as he pushed himself to his feet. "If my parents call, just tell them I'm on my way home."

Dean looked up from his plate and glanced over at his textbook on the counter at Sam’s words before he could stop himself. His school? Oh… right… Sam didn’t know they went to the same school. And why would Sam even consider someone like him might also go to the pampered rich boy’s school? After all, just look at him, he was poor and he lived in a junk yard. He was definitely not “prep school” material. As his teachers and the other students enjoyed reminding him on a daily basis.

Well… only in a passive way. Most students were too scared of him, his reputation, to even look at him, much less speak to him. The teachers? If it wasn’t for the principal of the school they would have all been happy to flunk him out whether he did the work or not. Sometimes he really wish they would. He’d told Bobby a million times he didn’t need a fucking diploma. Especially from a place like that. He had no intention of ever going to college, he knew what he wanted to do with his life, damn it…

The young man grunted and took another large bite from his burger so he wouldn’t have to answer Sam. Again, not bothering to correct Sam’s assumptions about him. Sam would figure it out on his own soon enough. The school was only filled with the “elite” after all, and one of the requirements for being elite was there wasn’t many of them. The school was large, the campus was large, but the classes were small. Sam himself must be new, only transferred in within the last few weeks, or else the younger boy would have already known who he was.

If there was one thing this school had in common with every other school that ever existed, it was “reputations” traveled fast and Dean certainly had a reputation.

Sam’s mutterings had Dean frowning in spite of himself, and taking a closer look at Sam. Sam didn’t look like those other spoiled rich brats, he didn’t talk like them, and he certainly didn’t act like them. How Bobby had found him, how Sam looked standing there in the hallway, Dean’s eyes kept locking on the younger boy’s bruised face and swollen lip…

Not my problem. Dean reminded himself, turning his attention back to his food even when Sam stood up and announced that he was going to leave. Probably best, for all of them.

"Sit your butt down and finish your meal," Bobby told the boy. "Dean will take you home when you're done." He gave Dean a glare that told the young man not to even try to protest it. "It'll take you two or three hours to get to the Heights from here on foot and it's already dark."

"Oh, I don't live in the Heights, sir," Sam said. "I live on the East Side in the Meadowglen subdivision. It's off of Toronto St. I'm sure it'll only be an hour or so if I jog it."

Sam wasn't really certain he was going to be able to jog though. His knee was really stiffening up on him. He must have whacked it harder on that rock than he realized. Still, if he managed a fast walk, he would probably make it in under two hours, probably before his parents got back in.

"You've been so generous, I don't want to impose any more than I have," Sam said. "And if I eat any more, Mr. Singer, it'll make jogging kind of uncomfortable. But that was the best burger I've had in a long time." Sam winced when he put weight on his knee. Once he got running, that would loosen it up. Still, he couldn't quite hide his limp as he head for the door. It was dark outside and his coat was dark. Good, if Eric drove by, he hopefully wouldn't spot Sam. Though by now, Eric was probably home, eating filet mignon and lobster. He'd rather have one of Mr. Singer's burgers any day.

"I said," Bobby said louder and firmer, "sit your butt down and finish your meal. Dean will drive you home. I'm not letting you walk that far at this time of night, and it's a good couple miles before there are any street lights."

Sam froze. The man meant it. One look at Dean told him the college boy absolutely did not want to drive him home though. Meekly, Sam returned to the table. "Yes, sir," Sam said.

He glanced over at Dean something of an apology in his eyes. The young man might have homework he would be keeping him from. He focused his eyes on his plate not looking up as he polished off the rest of the burger. Although he didn't want to leave any French fries, he just couldn't get that last handful down. By then, Bobby had sat down with his own meal.

Bobby studied the lanky youth. Bobby knew the prep school could be pretty rough, especially if you didn't have money. If the kid lived off of Toronto St, the homes were decent, two hundred thousand dollar homes on average he'd guess, but that just meant the boy was middle class. That made him an immediate target for the rich, snot-nosed boys. He knew Dean hated the school, but when the principal had offered Dean a free ride after they'd saved him from a werewolf, Bobby wasn't about to turn it down. Dean might think he wanted to hunt now, but the hunter's life was rough. If Dean found himself a girl and got out of hunting, having that prep school's name on his resume could make the difference between pushing a broom and running the place. Or what if Dean got hurt and couldn't hunt anymore? No, he wasn't about to let that opportunity pass Dean by. The kid had had it rough enough. Dean didn't talk much about what happened before Bobby found him that winter day five years ago curled up in one of the junk cars, Rumsfeld curled up with him, but Bobby knew the kid had had a rough life.

The kid had been a handful at first. Hell, still was a handful. He had found out enough about Dean to know the boy had lost his parents when he was about three going on four. He and his brother, having no other family, were put up for adoption. The sixth month old baby brother had been snapped up while Dean was passed from foster home to foster home, growing more and more rebellious. Digging a little deeper into the fire, Bobby honestly didn't think the fire was normal, thought maybe the supernatural had a hand in the death of his parents. Dean stayed with him all winter and Bobby started teaching him how to shoot a gun and fire a bow, and how to do research. The kid was sharp as hell if he wanted to be. And he took to fixing cars like nobody's business. He spent a year fixing up the 67 Impala he drove. He didn't remember a lot about his family, but he remembered his dad had been in the marines, liked baseball, was a mechanic, and owned a black car. Dean thought it might be an Impala but wasn't certain. His mom was a stay at home mom, had blond hair, and liked daisies. For a three year old, Bobby really figured that was pretty good.

Come that fall, it took some convincing, but Social Services let him foster Dean and he put Dean in school. He was a year behind his classmates and still hated school and kept skipping. Bobby told him flat out Social Services would take him away and put him in a different foster home if he didn't straighten up. It was one of the very few times he had seen the boy cry. After that, Dean went to school every day and kept his grades up to at least C's. Bobby convinced him to start getting A's and B's by dangling things like teaching him how to hunt if he kept his grades up.

When Sam finally finished his meal Bobby jerked his head at Dean. "Go on. Get the boy home."

Dean looked up and gave Bobby a glare when the older man volunteered him to take Sam home. Didn't he get a say in any of this? Why the hell did the older man keep trying to push the other boy off on him? Sam wasn't his problem. Bobby had picked him up, Bobby had brought him home like a little lost puppy, Bobby could take him home too. Of course, Bobby's look pretty much told him that he'd either agree to take Sam home, or Bobby really would lay into him, whether Sam was watching or not.

Hell, Sam didn't even want him to drive him home…

Though Dean had to smirk a little when Bobby used the same no-nonsense tone with the other boy. It was nice for a change not to have it directed at him.

"Fine. Whatever." Dean finally agreed. Besides, it would get him out of having to do the dishes, and would probably take him all of ten minutes. Maybe he'd stop at a bar on the way home.

So Dean finished off his burger, sharing the rest of his fries with Rumsfeld, and downed the rest of his Coke before he wiped his hands on his already grease stained jeans. Seeing that Sam was done, Dean stood up.

"Let's go." He told the younger boy curtly, grabbing his keys off the counter and heading out without looking over his shoulder to see if Sam were coming or not. He led the way over to the garage connected to the house and opened the door. He got into his car and reached over the seat to unlock the passenger side door.

"Today Sam." He called out to the younger boy when Sam just stood there outside his car without moving.

“He’s a lot of bark,” Bobby told Sam softly as Sam started to follow Dean. “But he’s a good kid.”

Sam nodded but didn’t say anything. He limped along after Dean. When he saw the car he suddenly remembered where he had seen the young man. At his school. No wonder Dean didn’t like him. He also couldn’t help but feel that fresh stab of fear. He set his jaw. He had gotten away from Eric and could get away from Dean if it came to that. He reluctantly got in the car but refused to fasten his seat belt or lock his door.

“I thought you were in college.,” Sam said, keeping as much distance between him and Dean as he could. “I didn’t realize you went to my school, that you were the new guy. At least new for me. I guess everyone knows you, though.”

Inhaling sharply Sam pressed himself against the door, his hand on the door handle when Dean leaned toward him to adjust the stereo. When Dean didn’t make a move on him he exhaled softly and resettled in his seat. “I’m sorry your dad is making you do this when you don’t want to,” he said loudly over the music pouring from the speakers. He hunched down and leaned against the door, his head resting against the cool glass of the window. He wondered glumly if Eric was going to show up the next morning and try to pick him up. After he parents heard what Eric tried, they’d tell Eric to go blow himself. But other than Eric hitting him, what proof did he even have? Eric could come up with any lie. Thankfully his parents would never listen to such nonsense from the jerk.

“I’m such a stupid, naïve idiot,” Sam murmured quietly. He wasn’t going to cry though a part of his inside was hurt and scared enough he sort of wanted to. Saving his tears was probably a good thing. He had a feeling tears of pain were going to be a standard thing for him for at least the next few weeks.

“I live at 2910 Wakehurst,” Sam said then stared out the window into the dark night. “You’re not…friends with Eric Lancaster…are you?”he asked. He couldn’t imagine Eric would take up with Dean, but Dean was good looking. He could see it now, Dean taking him and dropping him off in front of Eric’s house. He shuddered at just the thought.

Dean didn’t fail to notice the expression of fear on Sam’s face when the younger boy got into his car. The young man merely shrugged at Sam’s apology, if that’s even what it was, about not having recognized him earlier. Dean didn’t really care one way or another.

He pulled the car out of the garage and onto the main road heading into town. He rolled his window down, and reached over to turn on the stereo. Hopefully so Sam wouldn’t find the need to talk to him anymore. Dean didn’t miss the way the younger boy flinched at his movement towards him or the way Sam practically hugged the door. As though the other boy fully intended to jump out of the car, whether it was in motion or not, if he had to…

Dean pretended not to notice, not that he particularly cared. Most people acted that way around him.

“Whatever.” The older boy replied and merely shrugged at Sam’s next apology. For being so obviously afraid of him Sam sure as hell liked to talk. He wondered if the younger boy was like that all the time with everyone, or if he was one of those people talked a lot when they were nervous.

Dean nodded when Sam told him where to turn and kept an eye on the street signs. He didn’t come into town this way often. No reason to. He supposed it was nice enough. All white picket fences and shit. Definitely not the Heights, though Dean had pretty much already guessed Sam wasn’t one of those rich boys even before he’d told Bobby he didn’t live up that way. Sam probably would be a hell of a lot better off in public school, but again, it was none of his business.

Sam’s next question took Dean a little off guard and he laughed in spite of himself, he glanced briefly at Sam and then back to the road, shaking his head.

“Hardly. I broke the bastard’s hand a couple of years ago.” Dean said with no small amount of satisfaction. Though when he glanced at Sam again, the smile on his face was gone. “He the one who gave you that shiner?”

Confirmation that Dean wasn’t friends with Eric made him relax considerably. Turning toward the young man, his eyes widened when Dean said he broke Eric’s hand. He gave a soft snort before looking back out the front window. “Woulda been better if you’d broken something a little higher up, like his neck,” Sam said.

“Yeah, he hit me,” Sam said. “Hope I broke the bstard’s leg when I slammed the car door on it. I am so fcking toast tomorrow if my parents make me go to school. He practically broke my arm already and he wasn’t even all that pssed at me then.” He had to admit he was glad he didn’t have to walk these last miles. He was already pretty tired.

“Toronto is two lights up. You’ll take a left and then the third right.” He paused then asked quietly, “Did you break his hand because he made a move on you?”

Before Dean could answer Sam’s breath strangled in his throat when he saw Eric’s Ferrari sitting in the parking lot of the little strip mall. “Oh crp,” he whispered. He thought that was Cody’s Porsche and Adam’s Spyder beside Eric’s car. Sam sank as low as he could and prayed they hadn’t spotted him in Dean’s car. Maybe it was being cowardly, but if his parents weren’t home yet, maybe he could entice Dean to come in. Safety in numbers and all that, and Dean didn’t seem to be scared of Eric. They had a pool table in the basement. Maybe Dean liked pool.

Dean couldn’t help but grin a little when Sam said he should have broken Eric’s neck instead. Not that Dean hadn’t been tempted to at the time. He wondered how Sam would react if he knew that Dean was fully capable of doing just that, and not in a just “joking” around kind of way. Well, he probably wouldn’t look nearly as relaxed as he did now.

The older boy raised an eyebrow a bit when Sam said that he’d hoped that he broke Eric’s leg earlier. Looking at the younger boy, Dean never would have guessed Sam would have that in him. But then again, people were capable of all kinds of things in certain situations.

Dean frowned as he stared out the front windshield, turning when Sam told him to. Not looking at Sam when the younger boy asked him why he‘d broken the little bastard’s hand. Well, Sam was probably going to hear about it eventually. Might as well get it over with.

“No. I broke his hand when I found the punk keying up my car.” Dean said simply. Glancing briefly at Sam to gauge the younger boy’s reaction before he continued. “A few days later, he and some of his friends decided to ‘teach me a lesson’ and I put two of them in the hospital.”

The fact that the fight hadn’t happened on school grounds was probably the only reason the principal had been able to pull the strings he could to make sure Dean hadn’t been expelled. Of course, Eric’s and the other boy’s parents had made quite a fuss about the incident. Talking about pressing charges and suing Bobby for every last cent he had and then some, even though it was pretty clear that Dean had been defending himself from the other boys. Again, the principal of the school had stepped in, talking about disciplinary measures against the other boys, including expulsion, and things had just kind of died away then. No way they were going to let their good family names be tarnished that way.

No one had bothered Dean after that.

Dean heard Sam’s startled gasp and the way the younger boy tried to hide himself by hunkering down in his car, but again, he didn’t comment on it. He just kept driving as though there were nothing out of the ordinary. Besides, it was pretty dark, and he doubted the boys Sam was so afraid of were hanging around outside peering into every dark window of a car that passed by for the younger boy.

He finally pulled onto Sam’s street and slowed down a little.

“Which house?”

It was a pretty car and to think of Eric keying it, something he wouldn’t have thought possible even this morning, seemed a crime. So Dean not only broke Eric’s hand but put two of his cronies—probably Adam and Cody—in the hospital? Wow. Maybe he could ask Dean to teach him how to fight. Not like he couldn’t fight, but he had never been in a fight like he expected he was going to be in if he got jumped. And he was certain Eric and his crew were going to teach him a lesson. Probably two or three.

The lights were off in his house. His parents were still gone. Sht. He twisted around to look down the street behind them but didn’t see any headlights of cars following them. “On the left, the one with the lights out and the maple tree out front.”

His house wasn’t the biggest or prettiest on the block. It needed a paint job and the bushes needed trimming. The roses up by the house were in full bloom though and in the daytime, they were stunning.

When Dean pulled into the drive, Sam looked over at him. “We have a pool table downstairs and there’s beer in the fridge. I, uh, don’t suppose you would want to come in and play a couple games of pool, would you?” There was clearly hope in his eyes and voice. Even if Eric and his posse hadn’t seen him in Dean’s car, it didn’t mean they weren’t going to do a drive by now and again, watching for him.

Dean pulled into the driveway of the house that Sam indicated and waited for Sam to get out of the car. At least, that’s what he’d been expecting the younger boy to do. He definitely, not in a million years, would have expected Sam to actually invite him in.

He looked at Sam for a moment as though the other boy had grown a second head, before he sighed heavily and shook his head.

“Listen, Sam. I’ve done my good deed for the day. I’m not your babysitter, bodyguard, or whatever the hell you think I am, ok?” Dean finally stated, not harsh or angry or anything, just plainly stating the facts.

He gave the younger boy a slight smile.

“Eric’s not dumb enough to do anything like breaking and entering, where there might be witnesses, or that the cops can pin him on. Just watch your back.” He added, then gave Sam a little nod clearly saying that he should get out of the car now.

Sam nodded at Dean's denial. It wasn't fair to get Dean involved in his trouble. "Yeah," he said hanging his head. "I know. I'm just…Dude., the guy was after my…" he huffed. "It doesn't matter. I gotta a feeling by the end of the week I'm going to have wished I'd just done what he asked." He looked up at Dean through the locks of his hair falling across his forehead. "Thanks for the good deed. And the offer stands, Eric or no Eric, if you like pool I'm usually up for a game. Course if my Dad's around, I might not be able to offer you the beer. Kinda depends on his mood.

"Look I might be some middle class geekazoid, but I can play a mean game of pool and we do have a playstation if you like video games." He sighed. "I guess that's probably stupid geek childish stuff too as far as you're concerned. I wish I'd never won all those stupid competitions and money."

He glanced back down the road. "I hope you're right that he won't come by tonight." Sam opened the car door, locking the passenger's side door before shutting it, and limped up to the house. He patted his pocket and groaned, laying his head against the screen door. His fricking keys were in his backpack. Which Eric had. He put on a smile all the same and waved good bye to Dean. His house had the type of windows you couldn't easily pry open. Maybe he could get in through the door to the garage around back. Could the freaking day get any worse? No, he really didn't want an answer to that. He knew the answer to that.

Dean sighed softly when Sam finally got out of his car and walked up to his house… but of course not without laying on a pretty heavy guilt trip first. He almost had to smile at that. Dean was pretty sure that the younger boy hadn’t even meant to do it, but he had his damsel in distress routine down to a T.

The thing was, Dean really did sympathize with Sam’s problem. The only reason why he’d been left alone was because Dean had proved to be scarier than what the spoiled rich bullies were capable of. Eric had seemed to up his game a little in the last couple of years though… Sam didn’t need to explain to him what Eric had been after. Dean wasn’t stupid… and he wasn’t blind either.

Sam had apparently put up a good fight today, though, and escaped with his virtue intact. Dean was glad for that, he really was. The kid had spirit. Unfortunately he knew well that Eric and his friends would take great pleasure trying to beat that spirit out of the younger boy over the next several weeks. Hell, maybe worse than that… Dean sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair.

Dean would take vampires, werewolves, and zombies any day. Human monsters? They were so much worse in so many ways. Couldn’t just salt and burn them to get rid of them.

He watched Sam, waiting till the younger boy at least got safe inside his house before he drove off. When the younger boy didn’t go inside, Dean sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. Just kept getting better and better… Well, he’d been planning on stopping at the bar for a drink anyway. He sighed again as he leaned over the seat and popped open the glove compartment. Dean grabbed his lock pick kit and shut off the car before he got out and walked up to Sam’s front door.

Dean didn’t say anything and he didn’t wait for Sam to speak either. He simply examined the lock and then took out the tools he would need to open it.

Sam was more than a little surprised when the growling engine of the Impala silenced and a moment later Dean got out.

"I'm okay. I can probably get in through the garage door. My keys were in my backpack, and my backpack…it's still in Eric's car.

Dean didn't pay him any attention and after looking at the lock, pulled out a couple long thin metal bars and thrusting them in the lock, had the door open in a matter of a few seconds.

"Wow," Sam murmured. "I've never seen anyone actually pick a lock except on TV."

As soon as he walked in he flipped on a light in the entranceway. To the left was a large formal dining room, cloth draped stylishly on the walls and a couple abstract paintings hung by the older china cabinet. One end of the table was covered in papers. Ahead was the living room, a brick fireplace in one corner and a large TV sat on the entertainment center, a VCR and a Playstation on the shelves below it. Vases with colored twisted sticks sat on the mantel. A hallway was off to the right. On the wall by the door were pictures of Sam and his parents taken five years apart. Sam's mother was petite and of Asian descent. Sam's father was of modest build, blond headed and blue eyed.

"Would you like a beer?" Sam asked as he pulled off his school jacket and hung it on the door knob.

It had only taken Dean a few seconds to pick the lock. He’d had enough practice over the years that it was really pathetically easy, and he almost wanted to tell Sam that he should tell his parents to get some friggen deadbolts installed. Instead he just shook his head, a little mystified, as he put away his tools by Sam’s reaction.

After everything the boy had obviously been through today, which really, should have been a fucking wake up call all on its own. And Sam’s only reply to the man, who had admitted minutes ago to putting two other boys in the hospital and just broken in to his home in seconds flat was, ‘Wow’? No, not his only reply, but Sam had still invited him into his home for a beer.

Dean sighed heavily. Sam was a fucking idiot. A trusting fool. How the hell had he even made it in this world this long? Maybe the younger boy was just really damned sheltered. His parents certainly weren’t doing him any favors, if that was the case. How the hell could Sam protect himself out there if he didn’t know what people were really capable of? But, a fool or not, he still didn’t deserve what Eric had done to him before.

If there was one thing that Dean had learned during his life though, was that a lot of evil shit happened to people that didn’t fucking deserve it.

Realizing that he was still standing outside on the front step like some kind of stray dog, Dean finally shoved his tools into his back pocket and stepped over the threshold. He shut and locked the door behind him as his eyes traveled around the immaculate living room. Sam’s family might not be rich snobs but they certainly weren’t doing bad, and Dean felt almost as out of place here as he would in those fancy homes up on top of the hill. He wondered if they had a maid...

“Yeah sure.” He finally answered as he looked around. Noting the pictures of Sam and his parents on the wall. The younger boy certainly didn’t take after either of them.

Sam heard his sigh but was glad when Dean stepped inside. He couldn't deny he was still really shaken by the fact Eric and his friends had been out there waiting on him to pass by and knowing that Dean had taken them on and beaten them, it reassured him. He supposed Dean could be just as bad, hell, maybe worse, than Eric, but Dean seemed honest about who he was. He gave almost a small smile to himself. Dean just picked the lock to his house, but he did it to make sure Sam was safe and inside. That told Sam he was, well probably was, a good guy. Maybe Dean was light fingered, his ability to pick locks suggested he might be, but a thief over a rapist? Hell, he would take being robbed over what Eric was going to do to him any day.

Sam motioned Dean into the living room. There was a small breakfast niche with table and chairs just off of the kitchen. Sam walked into the kitchen and pulled out two beers from the fridge. He popped the caps on both of them and set them on the table.

"Take a seat, I'll be right back," Sam said. Sam hurried back to his bedroom and quickly shed his clothes and stepped into his favorite torn jeans and a T-shirt from Ron-Jon's. God he missed dressing like a typical teenager. He put on his old tennis shoes then walked back out to the kitchen. He knee was feeling a little better and he didn't limp as much. He hit the message button on the phone. The first was some sales call. The second was from Eric.

"Mr. Colt, Sam and I had a misunderstanding and he walked off. We were out in the country and I'm worried. Anything could happen to him out here. I'm looking for him now, but tell him I'm sorry," Eric's voice held deep remorse and it made Sam snort. "If he calls, would you call me? He really misunderstood, and I'm afraid he'll tell you some crazy things. I'll pick him up and get him home if you'll just let me know he's okay and where he's calling from. Please give me a call when you get this."

"Bastard," Sam muttered and hit the delete. The next call was his own call that he deleted. The last was his parents telling him they were going to be in late. HE sat down at the kitchen table and took a drink of his beer. What could he say to the guy that wouldn't make Dean think he was the loser he apparently was. Cock slut, echoed in his mind and he took a hasty drink from his beer and tried to block out Eric's words and forget the disgusting taste of the senior.

"Pool table is downstairs if you want to play a few games," he offered, then brightened. Dean liked cars. "You want to see my dad's old mustang? It's a 1965 manual 4 speed 289 V8 soft top convertible," he repeated by rote. He didn't know much about cars but his dad loved that old mustang so he knew it. "He was going to get it restored but then…the school's really expensive. I guess you know that though. It's taking everything Mom and Dad make to keep me there. They paid the base fee for the year, and for lunches, and uniforms and books. They're working overtime just to be able to save up the money so I can attend next year. It'll really help if I can win some science competitions." He took a long draught of the beer watching the guy across the table from him. He supposed the guy probably just wanted to get the hell out and away from the stupid schoolmate he didn't want anything to do with anyhow. "So? Pool, Mustang, or do you want to sit here and listen to the freak babble about things I'm pretty sure you don't give a shit about. If it were daytime we could go out back and do archery, though I could turn on the back porch light I guess. She practices at night sometimes. My mom competes," he told Dean proudly. "She she was in the Olympics one year even. I guess archery's probably pretty lame to you too, huh?" Sam paused. "Look, if you want to bail, that's cool too. I get it."

Dean followed Sam into the living room and waited there as the younger boy went into the kitchen and brought back a couple of beers for them. The beer just happened to be his favorite brand, and Dean smiled a little as he took a long pull from the cold bottle and sprawled himself comfortably on Sam’s couch. Alright, so maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe even a little bit better than sitting in a crowded smoke filled bar drinking piss warm beer that tasted like… well… piss.

Besides, if nothing else, the couch was pretty comfy and he was pretty tired. Dean didn’t mind at all helping Bobby out with the work around the salvage yard. In fact, most days he enjoyed it. But he was still a little worn out from the last hunt he and Bobby had gone on.

It was supposed to be a pretty routine salt and burn only a state away which turned out pretty not routine in the end. Turned out there were two spirits haunting the place, not one. Instead of the weekend, the hunt had taken over a week, just to track down where both of them were buried. Then, like tag team wrestlers or something, the spirits had taken turns throwing him and Bobby around the graveyard as they tried to dig up the bones. At one point Dean had ended up cracking his skull pretty good on one of the headstones. The result of the beating and slight concussion that resulted meant Dean didn’t go back to school for another couple of weeks.

Dean certainly hadn’t minded skipping out on school for a couple of weeks, but it meant that work at the salvage yard had also fallen behind. His back was still pretty damned bruised up to, though most of them had faded to those ugly green/yellow splotches by this point from the dark purple they had been.

The young man glanced over his shoulder when he heard Sam return, and he approved of the younger man’s change in attire. Dean hated those god damned uniforms they had to wear. He would have refused if he could, but unfortunately they were required and there was only so many strings the principal was willing to pull for him. The man had already done enough, anyway.

He listened as Sam talked… and talked… the boy sure liked to talk.

“I never said you were a freak.” Dean finally said when Sam let him get a word in edgewise. Smirking a little as he added teasingly. “Though you do babble.”

“Pool.” He finally decided. Standing, Dean stretched his back and took another long drink from his beer. True he could just as easily drink and play pool at the dive of a bar he usually frequented, and he could probably work on making some extra bucks there as well. But for now he’d stick around here, play a few games with the younger boy, maybe see the car Sam mentioned. Until Sam felt safe enough Dean could split with a clear conscience. Besides, it had been a while since he’d played for fun and not money. “Just a warning though. I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Sam couldn't deny it. He knew he babbled, especially if he was nervous or excited. He was surprised Dean didn't consider him a freak though. Still, Dean had only just met him. He grinned when Dean agreed to pool.

"Do you know what geeks do since we don't have girlfriends? Play a lot of pool. You are not going to kick my ass."

He led Dean down to the half-finished basement. The pool table was in good condition and was a full sized competition table. Ten cues sat in a rack hanging on the wall, blue chalk coloring their tips. An old book shelf was stacked haphazardly with books and magazines, and there was an old ratty couch and two ratty chairs, one of which was a recliner. The floor was cement. A "Guiness" light up mirrored bar sign hung on one wall above a small fridge and an old stereo system sat on another table, tapes stacked up around it. Sam went over to the stereo system and put in Black Sabbath's "Heaven and Hell" and hit play. He wasn't a big rock fan but his dad liked it, so he thought maybe Dean would too.

"The blue banded cue is mine," Sam called over his shoulder. "You'll probably like the black. That's my dad's favorite."

Dean snorted softly at Sam’s reply. He seriously doubted that’s what most “geeks” did, but he didn’t argue. He hoped Sam was as good a game as he boasted though. It would be nice to have a challenge for a change. Dean decided he wouldn’t tell the younger boy that he had hustled quite a bundle out of guys claiming to be just as good, and were at least twice as old, as Sam.

He followed the younger boy into the basement. It was a little more down to earth than upstairs, and Dean felt a little more comfortable. Though the pool table and cues were definitely on the more expensive side than Dean was used to playing on.

Dean grinned at the music that the younger boy switched on and shrugged out of his flannel shirt, leaving only his black T on, and threw it over the back of a chair. Heading over to the rack, Dean picked up the cue that Sam had pointed out to him. It would do.

“Rack up the balls, Sammy. I’m breaking.”

Sam was pleased to see Dean's smile. He had apparently chosen right. He decided his dad would probably like Dean. Cars, music, pool. They had a lot in common. His mom…hard telling. Sam chuckled to himself. Well, she liked dad and he had those interests. Even better was that Dean also attended the school.

Racking up the balls, he flicked them into order with practiced ease. "It's Sam, not Sammy," he corrected Dean. With a smug grin he added. "Or I'll call you Deany."

He carefully lifted the white triangle from the balls and watched as Dean broke. It was a nice spread, nicely set up for either solids or stripes but Dean hadn't sunk any balls which meant it was Sam's turn.

Sam studied the table for a five count. "Stripes," he said, and began sinking balls. On his last ball before the eight, he clipped the four ball, a solid. He sunk his ball but he pulled it back out and set it on the table in the break point spot with a sigh and stepped back. If Dean was as good as he said, Sam had just lost the game. Still, he was pleased with some of the shots he made. Some had been quite difficult.

Dean made a face when Sam threatened to call him Deany.

“Do it and die.” He ‘warned’ the younger boy, but it was pretty clear Dean was only joking. He stood back, nursing his beer and twirling the pool cue between his hands as he watched the younger boy rack up the balls.

When Dean broke the rack he purposefully didn’t sink any of the balls. It was force of habit really. Even if he wasn’t planning on hustling Sam, it was never a bad idea to know what your opponent was capable of before hand. He had to admit as he watched Sam sinking one striped ball after another that the younger boy wasn’t bad.

Sam was definitely... turning out to be more interesting than Dean would have given him credit for at first glance. The fact that the younger boy wasn’t afraid of him in the least, probably the most startling of all. He’d given the younger boy enough reason to at least be wary of him, even if Sam hadn’t heard half the rumors going on in that school about him. Sam seemed perfectly at ease around him though, and Dean had to admit, it was kind of a nice change.

When Sam clipped one of his balls, Dean smirked, set aside his beer and went to work. He didn’t bother holding back as he would have if Sam was a mark. He easily sunk every single one of his balls and finally the eight ball. Finishing off his beer with a smug grin as he waited for the younger boy to rack up the next set.

Three beers and five games later, Dean had won three games and Sam had won two. They were in the middle of the sixth game when the sound of the garage door and footsteps from the floor above announced the return of Sam’s parents. Dean finished off his beer quickly, taking that as his cue to leave.

Sam was pleased with how he played, though he suspected one of the games he won Dean had maybe let him. The other game was a solid win. It looked like Dean was going to win this game too when he heard the garage door open and the solid steps of his father before the door sounded again.

"Sammy?" he father yelled.

"Playing pool," Sam yelled back.

Sam's father appeared at the top of the stairs. "It's a school night Sam. What are you still doing up?"

"It's a long story Dad, and I needed to talk to you and Mom."

Sam's father appraised the tall youth who was putting his and his son's pool cues back in the rack. Black t-shirt, stained and grease coated jeans, but clean cut, a nice looking young man really. The red flannel on the chair must belong to him. He saw the five empty bottles of beer sitting on the table.

"You know I don't approve of you drinking on a school night either-" he began then saw the bruise on Sam's face and his cut lip. He strode over to Sam and grabbed hold of his chin. Someone had hit his boy. His blue eyes flashed with anger. "I thought you were with Eric. Who did this?" he demanded.

"Eric," Sam said simply, pulling free of his father's grasp, a little embarassed. "Dad, this is Dean Singer. I was hitch hiking—"

"Eric hit you? You were what?!"

"—and Dean's dad was kind enough to pick me up. Dean goes to Chalmers, too," Sam said. "Dean Singer, this is my dad, Jim Colt. Dean and his dad restore classic cars. Dean brought me home and was hanging out with me, making sure I was okay, until you got in."

Mr. Colt's eyes returned to the tall youth. He would get the full story out of Sam once their company was gone. He didn't recognize the Singer name as one of the richer families, but there were plenty of families with boys at the school whose names he wouldn't recognize. Car restoration could be ludicrous, but not really the type of business that might give Sam the contacts he would need. Then again, the Singers probably new a lot of people if they were restoring cars, people across a wide range of fields. That could be good, very good. He smiled broadly at the young man and held out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Dean. Nice 67 Impala you've got. Thank you for looking out for my boy."