Dean had kept his promise to Bobby. He has thought about it… thought about Sam… most of the night.

He'd only half concentrated on doing his homework, not really caring whether or not he got the answers right or wrong tonight, just getting it done to please Bobby so they could do some target practice. Dean thought about how Sam had looked the first time he had seen him standing there in the hallway. Bruised, bloody, and scared. Understandably so after what had happened, or almost happened, to the younger boy.

Though Sam had been understandably cautious of him, he'd still invited him in for beers and a few games of pool. Which, Dean has to admit, he had enjoyed. Sam had played a pretty good game, and had even given Dean a run for his money a couple times.

Finished with his homework, Dean had helped Bobby finish cleaning and loading up the guns, then followed the older hunter outside. He always enjoyed target practice, and nighttime target practice was especially fun. It was also essential, since most of the things they hunted did so at night and not mid afternoon. It was important to be able to shoot a gun accurately in little or no light.

Dean never let his mind wander on a hunt, and the same went for training. So it wasn't until after they'd finished and he was sharing a couple of drinks with Bobby before he'd thought about Sam again. How Sam had looked as he was about to drive by, not so much frightened but resigned, knowing the boys were behind him, knowing what they had planned for him, knowing he couldn't do anything to stop it… so Dean had. He didn't regret doing so, not one bit. He didn't regret bringing Sam back here or taking care of him. He was still a little surprised Sam had let him do so.

He still couldn't quite believe that bastard Eric had been waiting for Sam for when he got home. Dean knew Sam had been freaked out by that, understandably, but Sam had stood up to Eric. Sam certainly had balls, unfortunately Bobby was right, the younger boy was a little out of his league dealing with Eric and those other bastards at school. Dean kind of regretted telling Sam that he deserved to be someone's bitch.

Dean went to bed pondering some of the other things Sam had said. Unfortunately, Sam was right, he didn't have many options. Not when it was four or five against one at a time and the younger boy obviously didn't know how to fight. Dean's mouth twisted into a frown remembering Sam talk about getting himself a 'sponsor'. Dean knew the term, he went to that fucking school after all, and they'd tried the exact same thing on him because he was a 'pretty boy'… like Sam was. It was a fucked up option, but unfortunately many of the younger or weaker boys were forced into it. Basically whoring themselves to avoid getting beaten instead.

Dean knew that Sam had been tired, hurting, and angry when he'd 'asked' him to sponsor him. It was completely fucked up and it made him feel a little dirty. Not that Sam wasn't a looker, in fact, he was kind of Dean's type. Looks wise, anyway. Dean had learned swung both ways a long time ago, but had tried hard to keep that fact from Bobby, not sure how the older man would react to that particular fact about him. So he'd only picked up girls around here, and the occasional guy when they were on the road and no rumors would leak back to the older man's ears.

So, he definitely wasn't turned off by the idea… just the part about Sam whoring himself to him for protection, that part he didn't like. If Sam were genuinely willing, that was another story… but he wasn't. At least he didn't think he was… Dean sighed heavily, staring up at the dark ceiling above his bed. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd made a decision based on what his dick wanted. Usually those decisions didn't turn out good either.

But the next morning he found himself getting up earlier than he normally did and driving to Sam's house. He got there a couple of minutes before 7:30 , just in time to catch Sam coming out of his front door, and honked his car horn a couple of times.

As he started to step outside, he had heard the rumble but his mind was on the walk ahead and he didn’t recognize it. The beeping horn made him spin and almost drop his house keys. The Impala! Dean had accepted his apology! Or Bobby had made him come or guilted him in to coming. It didn’t matter, he didn’t have to walk and if anyone saw him arrive at school, he figured Eric would hear about it so he would get called on lying. Extra bonus was that he wasn’t going to have to sneak in from the back side. Maybe he could convince Dean to start taking him to school and even take him home. He could offer to help Dean with his homework, even if just checking it over. His parents usually read over his homework, to check for anything blatant. Maybe if he offered that way. He didn’t want to imply Dean couldn’t do the work because obviously he could but it was always good to have someone look over it. Hell, he would be happy to do the senior’s schoolwork just for the ride to and from school.

After checking to make sure the door had locked, he shifted the designer backpack on his shoulder and hurried down to the sleek street machine. He knew he was probably grinning like an idiot.

“Thanks for picking me up!” Sam said, then slid into the seat. He promised he would be quiet so as not to annoy the older boy with his babble but he did have a couple things he wanted to ask Dean.

“I know I promised I’d be quiet but I wanted to see if you had any other suggestions. I loaded up two old text books in the backpack for slamming into someone and have that second shoulder strap tight so hopefully no one can grab it. Since a roll of quarters in your pocket is kind of obvious, I filled up a pouch that I intend to keep in my hand going from class to class to help me hit harder. I’m wearing my cup and Mom put an extra two layers of wrappings on my ribs and I’ve got some old plastic shin guards on that don’t show. Mom said to be proactive. If I thought I was going to get jumped to nail them first and fight dirty. I’ve never really had any bullying this bad before and never been in any real fights. Any suggestions? Are my ideas good ideas? Bad ideas? Anything else I can do to defend myself?”

The look on Sam’s face when the younger boy turned around at the sound of his horn was obvious surprise. Sam hadn’t thought he’d show up. That was fine though, since Dean was still a little surprised he’d shown up as well.

The way Sam was grinning at him, practically from ear to ear, as he made his way towards Dean’s car had to be hurting the younger boy’s bruised face. It was also infectious and the young man felt himself grinning back before he could stop himself as Sam climbed into his car.

“Sure.” He told Sam at the other boy’s offer of thanks, eyeing the boy up and down but not overly. Dean didn’t want Sam to think he was leering at him or anything. Sam seemed to be doing a lot better than yesterday. Sure he was still bruised up to hell, but he wasn’t limping as badly and his mood had certainly improved. He didn’t look like he was walking to his own execution or anything, even knowing what would probably be in store for him today was more of yesterday. Dean had to admit, he was impressed.

When Sam started listing off all the precautions he was taking. Dean couldn’t help but laugh, definitely surprised, that Sam’s mother had apparently given the younger boy both the idea, and permission, to fight dirty. Ok, maybe he liked Mrs. Colt after all.

“Fighting dirty. Yeah, it’s a good start.” Dean replied, still chuckling a little as he started driving them towards the school. “When you’re feeling up to it, you should practice fighting so that you know what to do and when.

Still, even fighting dirty and being ‘proactive’ wasn’t going to deter the other little bastards all that much from laying into Sam. It might actually make the beatings worse in the long run, because anyone that Sam did take down would be out for blood then instead of just trying to intimidate the younger boy. The better way… would be to deter them from even touching Sam in the first place.

“I can… walk you to your classes… if you want.”

Sam wasn't sure, but he thought the laugh was one of approval. "Well, I'd need someone to practice with. If you'll teach me to fight, I'd gladly start today. Who knows how long it'll be before I'm not bruised up."

shocked by Dean's offer, Sam turned and gaped at him a moment. "I-uh, yeah, that would be very cool," Sam said.

Holy crap. Maybe he wouldn't end up a bloody little smear today. He had seen how people got out of Dean's way. He smirked a little thinking back two nights ago when Dean proclaimed he wasn't his bodyguard. Maybe they would leave him alone with Dean at his side. He could maybe even risk taking his real books with him to class. And he was definitely trading out the fancy backpack he was carrying for the one that was still in his locker. Assuming they hadn't broken into his locker of course. He was just going to carry Eric's out of spite because he would much rather whack attackers up side the head with the fancy one than damage his own. The designer backpack was great, but it was just a reminder of Eric and he didn't like that. Besides, he pretty much figured it was one of the ways Eric was 'marking' his territory. One more reason, probably, that Eric had returned it. To remind everyone Sam 'belonged' to him. Hah.

He pulled out a sheet of paper and quickly wrote down his schedule. "These are my classes," he said. "Um, you sure you really don't mind? It's absolutely awesome if you will," Sam said, practically bouncing with the thought. If Eric was pissed seeing Sam with Dean last night, imagine his face when he saw Dean walking him to class, just like he used to do. It would be all over the school by third period. Still he couldn't be stupid. Just cause Dean was with him didn't mean they both wouldn't be jumped. He still had to be ready to fight, he reminded himself.

The prospect of school suddenly got a whole lot less depressing.

Dean looked at Sam mildly surprised how easily the younger boy took to the idea of learning how to street fight. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d kind of had Sam pegged as one of those people who usually tried to avoid fighting at all costs. Though getting ones ass thoroughly kicked two days in a row was probably a pretty good motivation to rethink a pacifist attitude. Dean certainly had no qualms about teaching Sam a few useful moves to put his enemies on the ground quickly and with little effort.

No, his qualms lay with the fact that he was doing this at all… and his reasons for doing them. Last night Bobby had said he was ‘proud’ of him for stepping in to help Sam. He wondered how ‘proud’ of him the older man would be now. Dean couldn’t help but wonder briefly if it made him just as bad as the rest of them. Though of course he’d never try to force Sam or hurt him if the younger boy said ‘no’.

Fuck. He’d never meant to get this involved. He could still walk away now, if he wanted, leave the younger boy to fend for himself. It would certainly make his life in the near future a lot easier if he walked away. Hell, Sam might not even say yes… But the younger boy didn’t even hesitate agreeing to let Dean take him from class to class the young man looked at Sam. Just to be sure. Then took the sheet of paper with Sam’s schedule with a nod.

“I don’t mind.” Dean replied, relaxing a little seeing the surety on in Sam’s eyes. Well, he supposed the only trick now would be to ‘stake his claim’ so to speak on the younger boy so that everyone knew not to fucking touch Sam. That shouldn’t be too difficult. Thinking of the expression of anger on Eric’s face when he’d seen Sam with him yesterday, Dean smiled a little. It might even be fun.

He would walk Sam to his classes. He would make sure the younger boy sat near him at lunch. Then he could take Sam back to the salvage yard after school, show him a few things and then let the younger boy practice while he finished his work. Dean was pretty sure Bobby wouldn’t care about him teaching Sam how to defend himself… as long as Bobby didn’t figure out anything else they would be fine.

“I’ll take you to your classes and pick you up outside your classroom before lunch and after your last class of the day. I can drive you home, or to the salvage yard if you want and I can show you some things.” He told the younger boy as they pulled into the parking lot of the school. It was still pretty early so they were one of the first cars there.

Sam grinned at Dean's offer and nodded happily. "That will be very cool. Maybe I won't end up imitating a punching bag today, though I gotta feeling gym will suck balls."

Looking at the campus it seemed almost peaceful, brochure quality even. Yesterday he had been worried, unsure what was going to happen. He really hadn't expect being pounded on at every turn. He had simply hoped to make it in without trouble. Today, he brought trouble with him. He forced himself not to giggle at that. He had a feeling if he asked around, that's what they would say, that Dean was trouble. Then again, no one messed with him, so maybe he wasn't. Now maybe no one would mess with Sam, either. It would be different from when he was Eric's little showpiece, he knew that. He didn't know if Dean had any friends in this school and somehow, he kind of figured he didn't. But that was okay. So everyone wouldn't wave at him and smile at him. It would be just as cool to have them all get out of his way. He had never had that happen before. Okay, so it was Dean they were avoiding, but he would be a good student and learn to fight as well as Dean so Dean wouldn't have to be his bodyguard all the time.

He really needed to ask around and find out more about Dean. Briefly, he recalled what he had seen in Bobby's house. Maybe…maybe he was getting suckered. Well, if he was, it had been a good ride with Eric before a couple nights ago. He had had a lot of fun. Now…now was anyone's guess. He had never been a 'bad boy,' but he had a feeling Dean fell into that category so that made him one too. Wouldn't his friends at his old school just shit seeing him hanging with a 'hood.'

Sam shifted in the seat so he could look at Dean. "We're here early. Guess that's kind of my fault. I probably ought to go to my locker. I really don’t want to carry this thing," he lifted up the offending back pack, "around unless you think it might piss Eric off more. I'm all for pissing off Eric. My back pack is in my locker since I figured they'd just snag it from me yesterday. Did you need to finish up any homework or anything?"

Dean snorted softly at Sam’s comment as he shut the car’s engine off.

“Gym always sucks balls.” The young man replied, turning his full attention to Sam for the first time since the younger boy had gotten into his car. He had no idea what might be going on in that brain of Sam’s, but whatever it was, the younger boy was smiling so it couldn’t be too bad.

Sam had a nice smile, he decided... and fucking dimples. A smile curved his own lips in spite of himself as he looked at the younger boy. Sam really was fucking adorable when he wanted to be... or maybe more accurately, when he wasn’t even trying.

Dean hadn’t allowed himself to look before, for obvious reasons. Over the last two days he’d known the younger boy Sam had been nearly assaulted and beaten to hell, and the last thing Sam needed was another pervert leering and groping at him. But now Dean let himself look and he liked what he saw.

He also remembered how Sam had looked sitting in his kitchen without a shirt. How the younger boy’s skin had felt beneath his hands as he’d checked Sam over and wrapped up his ribs. Dean’s thoughts had been purely professional then. They definitely weren’t professional now, but he wasn’t about to make a move on the younger boy while Sam was still recovering from getting his ass kicked only yesterday. His bruises hadn’t even begun to fade yet for Christ sake.

Dean could wait... whenever Sam was ready. Until then, it was going to stay professional.

The young man made a face as Sam showed him the expensive book bag, obviously a gift from Eric.

“You want to piss him off? Throw it away. Or better yet. Burn it.” Dean replied, grinning, as he got out of the car. “Finished my homework last night.” He told the younger boy. Because he hadn’t decided then whether or not he was going to pick up Sam or not.

"Got a lighter?" Sam asked with a laugh. There was that trashcan mid campus. Burn it partway and then leave it laying there for everyone to see. He liked that idea. He couldn't even bring himself to sell it because anything he bought with it would just make him feel dirty. "I don't know, might be a good bag for you to put your greasy tools in before you've had a chance to clean them up or something."

Sam twisted to get out of the car and strangled a gasp. Fuck. He turned the rest of the way more slowly and pushed open the heavy door. After rolling up the window he locked the door, then pulled the backpack out and slung it over his shoulder, grimacing when the back hit a little harder into his back than he had meant for it to. Shutting the door made him wince again. Oh, today was just going to suck.

"My locker's in Jordan Hall." He motioned to the main building, the one he'd gotten jumped outside of before by Eric. He ran his hand over the backpack. What if Dean bailed, decided he was too much trouble? Maybe he ought to hang onto the backpack…just in case. His whole world had been turned upside down in the past few days. He was already being hasty by taking up with Dean probably, but he considered it survival for the moment. Not that he didn't like Dean, just after Eric, he would have preferred to be more cautious. He just didn't see that he had that luxury and he did like Dean. Dean still scared him a little, one of those big broody teens, but he had had a good time shooting pool with Dean and drinking beer. The senior had saved him from a beating, patched him up, then went inside with him when he had to face down Eric. Frankly Dean had given him the courage to say some of the things he did, which was probably pretty stupid because Dean might have just come in to piss off Eric, not to have Sam's back. But still…hasty was bad. "I'll stuff the bag in my locker for now and decide what I want to do with it. I pissed Eric off but good last night. Probably shouldn't taunt him that extra little bit today. Save it for a day he's really earned it or something. Besides, Mom's going to try to get us out of the party, but," he gave a slight shrug, "I may get stuck going."

Dean’s grin at Sam’s question of whether or not he had a lighter immediately changed to a frown as he watched the younger boy struggle to get out of the car. He was actually a bit surprised that Sam had seemed so well off before, hardly even limping really when he’d gotten into his car this morning. But Sam was obviously feeling the effects of the beatings he’d gotten yesterday now. Not just the physical effects either.

The young man didn’t ask for any help getting out of the car, so Dean didn’t offer any. But he could see the pain, as well as the doubt, flickering across Sam’s expression and in his eyes. He wondered exactly what Sam was having doubts over. Was Sam having second thoughts about asking Dean to... or was he having doubts that Dean could actually protect him from Eric and his goons.

To be honest, Dean wasn’t all that certain how he was going to do it. Simply hanging around Sam should be enough to dissuade most of the other students from even trying to abuse the younger boy. But it probably wouldn’t chase off all of them. Not the ones that thought they had something to prove, like Eric. Dean certainly wasn’t afraid of the rich asshole, and he could easily hold his own against the other boy. He hunted monsters for Christ sake.

But human monsters were different from monster monsters in one major way. You couldn’t just salt and burn them to get rid of them. They’d keep coming back. He wasn’t always going to be able to keep Sam in his sights 24/7. That’s why teaching Sam how to hold his own was going to be so important.

“Whatever you think is best.” Dean finally answered with a slight shrug, falling into step beside Sam as they walked towards the building where Sam’s locker was. “Just don’t wimp out on me now, Sammy.”

"It's Sam," he said emphatically. "Sammy's a five year old. If you mean by wimp out, that I go back to Eric? Not happening." I hope, he thought privately. "Dean, I didn't even know what a 'sponsor' was until yesterday. I didn't ask for Eric to 'sponsor' me. He just up and friended me on that first day. I didn't have a clue. I thought he was a cool guy, I don't know, maybe taking pity on the poor middle classer trying to fit in. It was that way for weeks. Then he took me out to this old burned out church in the middle of nowhere. He asked if I was a virgin, and I thought, 'hey maybe he's going to get me laid, maybe some of those pretty cheerleaders or something are going to meet us" and the next thing I know he's got his tongue halfway down my throat and his hand down my pants grabbing my dick. He backhands me and as I tried to get out of his car, damned near broke my wrist."

He paused outside the large doors. It was going to hurt to pull one of them open but even as he reached for it, Dean opened it for him. He gave him a small but grateful smile. "I convinced him I'd play ball, be his bitch and when I went around to his side of the car, I got him to turn and put both his feet on the ground. I grabbed his keys complaining about the door ajar noise then slammed the car door on his legs as hard as I could. I am so pissed it wasn't hard enough to break one of them. I just didn't have the time to get the leverage I guess. Then I ran like hell."

"I'm not a wimp, I'm not stupid. I am, I guess, naïve as hell," he sighed softly as he motioned Dean down a hall on the right. "My previous schools were your normal middle class schools. You've got the prima-donas, the popular, the geeks, the freaks, the jocks, the hoods, the sluts, the norms, and a few gays. Cigarette smoking and weed in the bathrooms or back in the bleaches or something. You have the occasional fights, I don't know, just normal stuff. This…" he shook his head, "Cocaine, money tossed like candy at a parade, teachers that turn a blind eye if it's the richest doing whatever. Hell I feel like I'm on the mean streets, just everyone's wearing Armani suits." He stopped at his locker and pulled out his book bag, opening it and taking out his torn clothes from the day before he stuffed them back in his locker. He dropped his two text books and folder with his homework down in the book bag then pulled out a notebook from his locker. He shoved the designer bag in his locker, pulling out the couple books he had left at the school two days ago and set them on top of everything else for easier access. He'd skip taking them with him to class yet today, just in case. He traded out the lock he had on his locker for a new one. Eric knew his locker combination. He attached the old combination lock to the outside of his book bag. It might be useful if he slugged anyone upside the head with his pack. He tightened one shoulder strap as tight as he could and left the other more or less loose.

Looking up at Dean he said, "You're lucky you know how to fight." He frowned a moment, then said, "Well, maybe you aren't. Means you had to learn how the hard way I'd guess. Kinda like me. God I hope I'm as fast at learning how to fight as I am at book stuff. I've never had to fight. Really? I'd rather not. But I'm not going to stand around with my thumb up my butt and whimper 'why me?'" He shut his locker, hefted his bag, and headed toward homeroom.

He was pleased that his legs were long enough that Dean didn't outpace him. He'd only recently gained the height that he had. He really thought he was going to end up as short as his mom.

The classroom door was open but no one was inside. "So, do I wait inside the class room until you show up? Wait outside the door? Jesus, I feel stupid needing protection like some little eight year old girl."

Dean rolled his eyes a little as the younger boy ‘corrected’ him on the use of his name. Talk about sensitive. Sam really could act like a total bitchy girl sometimes. Annoying, whiney, babbling on and on… yeah, if he didn’t know any better he’d accuse Sam of having PMS.

The young man pretty much tuned Sam out as the younger boy went on and on about his ‘life story’ regarding Eric. Dean didn’t really care. He had figured out the gist of it himself anyway and if he’d wanted the damned details, he would have asked for them.

Instead Dean concentrated on the grounds around him, keeping his eyes open for any possible threads just as he would have if he was on a hunt with Bobby. There were mostly teachers wandering about here and there at this time of the morning, the grounds almost completely empty of students, though they’d begin arriving soon. There were a few groups of students hanging out, however, studying or whatever and Dean made sure to keep an eye on them.

Almost all of them stopped talking amongst themselves to stare at him and Sam as they walked past. Dean was sure they made quite the sight. Considering everyone pretty much knew who he was, and knew that he didn’t walk with anyone. In fact, most of the other students were quick to get as far away from him as they fucking could. Dean smirked a little at the shocked looks on their faces and the way they quickly averted their stares when he turned a glare on them.

He knew Eric and his ‘crew’ weren’t going to be so easy to scare off from bothering Sam, but he’d deal with that when the time came.

Dean leaned up against the row of lockers, bored, while he waited for Sam to change out his books and other crap. Sam was still prattling on. Something about how his ‘old’ school was so much different from this one. Here he actually had to fend for himself. Welcome to the real world. Dean wanted to say, but held his tongue.

Lucky… yeah right, whatever.

By the time they’d reached Sam’s home room class Dean had just about enough of the younger boy’s babbling and turned to Sam with a slightly irritated expression.

“Alright, Sam. First rule: No more babbling. You have a question? Fine. But I’m not interested in hearing your life stories. I’ll bring you to school, I’ll take you home, I’ll show you how to fight, and I’ll make sure you don’t get your ass handed to you in the mean time. But other than that, I expect you to stay out of my way and not annoy the shit out of me.” Dean said, giving Sam a moment to let that sink in, reminding the younger boy this was a business arrangement, they weren't friends, before he continued. “To answer your question, when I’m not around, stay in sight of the faculty. Don’t go to the restrooms alone. Don’t go outside alone. Don’t get stuck in a classroom alone without any teachers around. Got it?”

He saw Dean's expression and wondered what he'd done wrong until Dean made it quite clear what he'd done wrong. He nodded, knowing he was probably a little wide-eyed at Dean's tone. He didn't understand why Dean was even doing this if Sam annoyed him so much. Maybe Bobby had a hand in it? Well, he could be quiet, if it meant Dean would teach him to fight and protect him until he could.

Listening to Dean's answer, he nodded his understanding and had to bite back the "yes sir" that wanted to pop out of his mouth. He wondered if he had annoyed Eric as much with his talk. Eric seemed to enjoy their conversations but then, Eric talked, unlike Dean who said very little most of the time at least, most of the time Sam had been around him. Which really wasn't hardly any time at all. Maybe Dean would warm up to him, but somehow, he didn't think so. For whatever reason, Dean was helping him and he would take that help so long as Dean offered it.

Sam settled into his seat, placing his bag between his knees, mostly so he didn't have to lean over to pull the back pack out from under the seat. It was hard to lean over like that right now. Since he wasn't supposed to talk, he turned his head and stared out the window, watching as the campus slowly began to crawl to life. Awkward hardly began to cover how he felt.

Sam’s wide eyed shocked expression made Dean feel a little like an ass for being so sharp with the younger boy. But Sam might as well get used to it, because Dean wasn’t the kind of person who sugar coated things. He’d told the younger boy before that he wasn’t his friend or his bodyguard. Just because Dean had decided to take up the latter duty, certainly didn’t mean they were the former. They had an arrangement, that was all.

When Sam finally nodded in understanding, Dean gave the younger boy a curt nod and went over to lean against the wall by the door waiting for Sam’s home room teacher to show up. As soon as they did, Dean would have to head to his own homeroom class for attendance and then come back to pick up Sam after. He had a feeling during the day he was going to be late to a few of his classes having to escort Sam to and from his, but it wasn’t that he really cared about that. Some of his teachers were real assholes though, and if they decided to give him detention for being late, that could definitely make keeping an eye on Sam a lot more difficult.

True to his word, Sam remained quiet, letting Dean actually think as he looked over the paper with the younger boy’s schedule on it and comparing it with his own. After a while a couple more students began to file in, and then finally the teacher. He looked surprised to see Dean standing there at the door, but didn’t say anything to him or ask him to leave. Yet anyway.

When a group of three boys walked in, their eyes immediately falling on Sam who’s attention was still focused outside, Dean’s eyes narrowed. Little bastards were starting in right away. When they started to make their way over to Sam, Dean stepped away from the wall. Intercepting them before they’d even had the chance to take their seats next to the younger boy or begin heckling Sam.

“Back off.” Dean warned, standing next to Sam’s chair and putting a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. It was the only warning he was prepared to give.

Sam saw Dean head for the door and figured Dean considered him safe even though the teacher hadn't shown up yet. When instead of leaving Dean leaned against the wall the breath didn't even realizing he'd been holding whispered past his lips. He watched students arriving and concentrated on recalling their names and where they fit in the social order if he knew. He saw Randell. Randell was in his third and fifth period class. He identified others as he saw them, some who were in his classes, some among those that Eric had introduced him to, and those that had worked him over the day before. He was good with names and faces which was good since with the uniforms, there was no other way that he could watch for them. He saw Eric; Eric knew he was in this homeroom and in days past Sam would smile and wave at him sometimes. This time he saw Eric look in, a scowl on his face. The scowl deepened when some kid—Jeffrey, Sam thought was his name—walked up to Eric and tell him something. With the fury he saw cross Eric's face he knew it was that Sam had been seen with Dean.

He had noticed the kids in the yard earlier and Dean walked him to his locker. He had simply chosen to ignore their presence the same way they ignored his. But he hadn't missed their surprised looks. He wondered if it was because Dean was playing body guard, or if it was because he wasn't with Eric, or maybe if it was shock because Sam was stupid enough to come back to school after the previous day's beatings.

He heard the first couple kids come into the room and watching their reflections in the windows saw they were startled by Dean's presence and baffled by it, though a few eyes came to rest on him. He watched Dean's reflection discreetly. When his homeroom teacher finally showed up he expected his bodyguard to slip out the door, but he didn't. The teacher was here now. Of course the teacher was a real jerk and didn’t like him. Had as much said Sam didn't belong in the school, not matter how smart he was. He doubted if the teacher would step in unless one of his classmates started whaling on him. He would probably ignore a well placed fist to his ribcage.

He heard the voices first. Steffin and Dallas and Michael. They had laid into him yesterday. He watched for their reflections and saw them come through the door and spot him. Odds were they wouldn't punch him, probably anyhow. But if one of them 'tripped' and put an elbow to his face, well gosh it was just bad luck. He was already to slide his foot out and trip Steffin, the one most likely to take a shot at him, when he felt the hand on his shoulder. He jumped a little. He had been too busy watching Steffin to have noticed Dean had slipped up to his side.

He gave the boys a grim smile. He wanted to be smug about it, but best not push his luck. Dean wouldn't be sitting by him. The smile would let them know that he and Dean had obviously established an arrangement and not to fuck with Sam or they'd be fucking with Dean. He positively ate it up when the boys did exactly what Dean told them. They backed off, clear to the other side of the room, murmuring between them. Dallas started to head out the door.

"He already knows," Sam called after him. Dallas stopped and looked over his shoulder at Sam. "No need to run and tell your master. Jeffrey beat you to it. Though if you want to waste the breath and be late to class…" Sam gave a slight shrug, "be my guest."

With a glare, the dark haired boy left the classroom.

Mr. Jenkins, the teacher, turned his gaze on Dean. "You point has been made Mr. Winchester. Get to your homeroom," he said in that annoying nasal voice he had. His eyes flicked to Sam, disgust clear in them. "At least you run with your own, now," Mr. Jenkins said to Sam.

"You ought to know," Sam said with a slight smile. "Go Rams."

He'd be surprised if anyone else in the class knew the reference to Oakley High School's mascot. Why would any of the rich kids bother to know anything about one of the school's in the poor section of a town thirty miles away? He gave the teacher a final look that said very clearly if the teacher pushed him, he would make certain everyone knew what his reference meant. He had stumbled across the fact Mr. Jenkins had graduated from there and not very high in his class apparently, quite by accident when he was working on a report a month beforehand. He had been shocked, but it kind of made more sense why Mr. Jenkins singled him out to lambaste on a regular basis. The bastard had married into money and Sam would bet a hundred bucks that was the only reason he had his job at Chalmers.

Dean smirked when the other boys retreated, practically running away with their tails between their legs. He said nothing when one of the boys headed for the door. Just watching them, and they were watching him with unmistakable wariness just like everyone else in the room now was. Except for Sam of course who was sitting there quite calmly with Dean's hand still on his shoulder.

The young man's eyes finally swung to the teacher's when the older man practically told him to get the fuck out. Dean's eyes narrowed a bit, especially at the bastard's tone, though it was all he could do to keep from bursting out laughing at Sam's remark and the impressive shades of red the asshole teacher was turning in response.

Dean didn't leave just yet though, because his point hadn't been made. Not yet anyway. He leaned down close to Sam's ear, and though he spoke low his voice was easily heard in the now utterly silent classroom.

"Let me know if anyone gives you any trouble." Dean told Sam before he straightened, gave the younger boy's shoulder a light squeeze, then headed for the door. Smirking at the group of students who'd been standing in the doorway that nearly tripped over each other in their hurry to get out of his way. He heard the whispers break out behind him as he headed towards his own home room and he had a feeling by the time second period rolled around everyone in this damned school would have gotten his message.

No one better lay a hand on Sam Colt.

First and second period went smoothly for Sam. He watched in private amazement as students got out of their way. He had never had anything like it happen to him before. Then again, he had never had the shit kicked out of him for an entire day either. Sam kept his smile to himself for the most part, trying to be nonchalant about it. He wasn't use to having someone shadow his every step and that was a little strange and was going to take some getting used to. As Dean had told him to, he kept his mouth shut for the most part. The most he did was ask what class Dean had next or tell him if he needed to stop at his locker. Dean had interceded when one kid tried to bump into Sam in the hall. Dean had been in front of him instantly and deflected the would be attacker into some lockers. Hard. Dean immediately dropped back behind him and had to nudge him to start walking again. Sam hadn't been able to see exactly what Dean had done but decided that would be one of the first things he wanted to learn. He reached his third period class. The teacher was inside and smiled at Sam. He was one of the few teachers who didn't seem to care that Sam wasn't a rich kid. The teacher's eyes flicked to Dean and arched an eyebrow as his gaze came back to rest on Sam. He looked mildly surprised but gave a nod to Dean.

"They'll be no problems in here, Dean," Mr. Fressin promised him.

Dean's gaze swept over the half full and very silent class room then after resting his hand lightly on Sam's shoulder and squeezing it, making it perfectly clear Sam was under his protection, he turned and left. Sam went to his seat and sat down stiffly. He needed to take some more aspirin but decided it would have to wait until lunch. He wasn't about to not follow Dean's directions just to go get a drink of water. He was a little surprised when Randall sat down next to him.

"Word's all over campus," Randall said quietly. "Definitely a scary alternative to Eric but Winchester is probably the only one who could sponsor you and stand up to Eric. The rumors about him though…" Randall shuddered.

"Sponsoring me?" Sam said then started to deny it. Then again, best he didn't. "Yeah. Not exactly intentional, but it just worked out that way. Tell me about Dean. I don't really know much other than everyone seems terrified of him and that he took on Eric and his buddies and won."

Randall's raised eyebrows practically touched his hairline. "You don't know?" Randall whistled as he exhaled. "Lots of rumors about the guy. Some say he killed his parents and burnt his house down when he was just a kid. Lives out at the junkyard with that strange old guy. He's got some fucked up symbols on the inside of his locker door, devil worship stuff."

Sam recalled what he had seen at Bobby's. Crap he had wanted to be wrong.

"People have seen blood smeared on his car sometimes, so you know, probably animal sacrifices and stuff. A couple girls went missing a few years ago and cops were seen out at the junkyard, probably searching it for the bodies. The girls were never found." Randall shook his head. "Winchester never walks with anyone and has never sponsored anyone. No one would be crazy enough to…I mean, he just, he's dangerous. People have tried to get him kicked out a few times but the principal won't let them. They say the principal changed a few weeks before Winchester started attending, got kind of strange habits now that he didn't have before, you know, like maybe a spell was cast on him or something." Randall tilted his head and stared at the young man. "So…you seen anything?"

Laughing softly, despite the fact a cold weight had settled into his gut, he said, "Dean's a normal teenager, just…moody. Cooks a mean cheeseburger and fries too. Likes hard rock. Has a great…well I guess Bobby's his step dad or something. Seemed kinda rude to ask. Bobby collects old books, a lot of them religious, so maybe that's where some of those rumors come from." Sam shrugged. "I don't really care what he's into so long as he doesn't expect me to be part of it, and believe me, he doesn't. I didn't see anything weird out at the junkyard," Sam lied. "I dunno, ask me again in a couple weeks. I'll have been there more often then."

Randall chewed on his lip and asked hesitantly, "Does he…is he okay to you as a…sponsor?"

Sam stared at the younger boy a minute, surprised by the concern in the freshman's face, then Sam looked away. "He's short tempered, but he would never lay a hand on me. Not like Eric. Not like what a lot of the others have said or done or tried to do." Sam realized he meant that, not that Dean was actually sponsoring him…was he?

He was just being his bodyguard, was just looking out for him for a few weeks until he had taught Sam to defend himself. Didn’t anyone ever tell you nothing is free in this world, Sammy? Eric's voice taunted him. Then he heard his his own voice as he taunted Dean, Hey Dean, wanna be my sponsor? I am a virgin and all. You getting there first would sure as hell piss off Eric.

Oh, crap.

He looked back at Randall and gave him a strained smile. "He's better than Eric."

Just as he’d promised, Dean had returned to Sam’s homeroom after the bell rang and took the younger boy to his next class. Other than the fact that he was shadowing Sam’s every step, it was a pretty normal day for him. Sure there were a few differences. Instead of people rushing to get out of his way, they rushed to get out of their way. Most of the time people were content to ignore his presence, but today people got quiet when they approached and the whispers started up as they passed. But other than that it was pretty normal.

He’d known it wouldn’t last. But the one boy who’d gotten up the nerve to try to mess with Sam when they’d been walking down the hall would definitely think twice before trying something that stupid again. So would anyone else for that matter. He walked close behind Sam and kept an eye on everyone around them as they walked down the halls or through the campus grounds, but no one bothered them again.

At least, not until right before lunch when Eric and his ‘buddies’ finally caught up with Dean outside as he was making his way back to Sam’s classroom to pick the other boy up. At first, Dean didn’t even bother acknowledging the other boy, ready to walk right past him. When Eric and his friends blocked his path however, Dean stopped, and it suddenly got very quiet even though a crowd was beginning to gather around them. Keeping a pretty good distance away from the four boys, of course.

Dean didn’t say anything, though the glare he gave the other boys spoke volumes. His silence seemed to throw Eric for a few moments, however. If Eric was waiting for him to start something, he was going to be disappointed. Dean was fully prepared to finish it however.

When someone in the crowd started snickering, followed by others, Eric finally seemed to shore up his resolve and snapped.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Winchester?” Eric said hotly. When Dean only continued to stare at him, he could practically see the other boy’s blood pressure rising as Eric got more pissed off and finally blurted out, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from Colt!”

“Or what?” Dean finally replied, taking a step forward and smirking a little when Adam and Cody instinctively took a step back, even though Eric held his ground.

“He’s none of your business. You think you’re some kind of bad ass. But everyone knows you’re just a freak of nature. One of these days they’re going to lock you up and throw away the key if you’re not careful.” Eric taunted him, and Dean only gave the other boy a dark smile.

“Want me to give them a reason to right now?” Dean asked, his tone pitched low and threatening and predictably the other boy’s eyes flashed with nervousness even though he didn’t back down. Yet. Eric knew he couldn’t back down and lose face in front of so many people watching. Dean also knew that Eric wouldn’t openly challenge him here and risk losing in front of so many people either. It was starting to make him nervous if Eric was purposefully keeping him occupied. He needed to get to Sam now.

Dean started to walk past the other boy again, and when Eric tried to get in front of him again, Dean moved faster. Grabbing his wrist and wrenching his arm up back behind him, twisting it painfully so. He could easily break the other boy’s arm right here and right now, and he wanted Eric to make sure he knew it. Dean gave Adam and Cody a dark look when it looked like the two other boys would step in and they hesitated. Just long enough for Dean to make his point before shoving the bastard away from him hard right into his two chicken friends.

Some faculty members were approaching, obviously wondering what all the fuss was about.

“You’re going to fucking regret this, Winchester!” Eric hissed, holding his bruised wrist. Dean’s mouth twisted again into a dark smile.

“Not before you.” He answered and pushed his way through the crowd that quickly parted for him just as the teachers arrived demanding what was going on. Dean quickened his steps as he headed for Sam’s classroom.

The bell rang and the students poured out of the room, heading for the lunch room or the parking lot. The teacher waited for Sam to get up and join the others. "Time for lunch Mr. Colt," Mr. Fressin said.

Reluctantly Sam picked up his backpack and got to his feet. "I'm waiting on Dean. He should be here any time now."

"I'm sorry Sam, I have to lock up and I need to go," the teacher said apologetically.

"You mind if I walk with you?"

"I'm headed to the faculty parking lot. I always have lunch with my wife on Wednesdays. Won't Dean come here looking for you?"

Slowly, Sam nodded. Shit. Sam headed out the door and looked around. Boys were throwing their things in lockers and rushing off. Mr. Fressin locked the door to his class and headed down the hallway. Sam saw other faculty locking their doors and heading away as well.

The water fountain was just up the hall. He kept his back to the wall as he dug in his pack and pulled out two aspirin. No one seemed to be paying him any mind and he didn't see anyone that had pummeled him the day before. He walked slowly toward the water fountain, keeping his eyes open, watchful. He gave the bathroom door a wide berth and approached the water fountain. He popped the pills in his mouth and gave a final look around. He quickly took a couple gulps of water and swallowed the pills. Sliding his hand in his pocket he wrapped his hand around the pouch of quarters and headed back to the classroom. The next thing he knew someone slammed into him. He stumbled in to the wall gasping as his bruises complained. The classroom door beside him opened and he was pulled inside. He took a right to the jaw and saw stars, practically falling over a desk. His book bag slid down his arm. Straightening, ignoring the pain in his ribs, he swung the back pack blindly, feeling it connect and someone let out with a curse. A punch in his back dropped him to his bad knee and he let out with a cry of pain. The backpack was ripped from him and an arm snaked around his throat, tightening. A senior from the basketball team, Mark, shoved a desk out of the way, moving in front of Sam as a smile curved his lips.

"Not so tough without your guard dog," he sneered.

"Not so tough without your buddies," Sam hissed back, pulling at the arm around his throat ineffectively.

Sam was yanked to his feet and Mark punched him in the gut. Sam would have doubled over if he wasn't being held. When Mark came in a second time to punch him again, Sam gave him a left hook, the pouch of quarters wrapped inside his fist, and elbowed the guy behind him, but the guy held on, tightening the arm around his throat to the point Sam was having trouble drawing a breath. Blood dribbled from the corner of Mark's mouth and fury lit his eyes.

"You fucking bitch," Mark seethed and slammed his fist into Sam's face. Sam sagged, groaning. Mark wrapped his fingers in the younger boy's hair and jerked his head up. "You listen to me you rotting sac of pus. You're Eric's little bitch. You dump that junkyard trash and go back to him. You don't and we get you," he snarled and grabbed hold of Sam's cock and squeezed hard. "We'll all get our turn fucking that lily white ass of yours."

Sam heard the door open and sharp whistle. Mark punched him again. "Hear you're a cock slut too. Looking forward to fucking your mouth bitch."

The next thing Sam knew he was face down on the floor and the room was empty.

Dean had broken into an all out run by the time he reached the hallway where Sam’s classroom was. Bobby always said that he had good instincts, and right now they were screaming that something was wrong. God damn it. He had let Eric occupy him for too damned long. The hallways had cleared out too damned fast. Everyone was heading towards the cafeteria, gathering in groups outside, or heading off campus for lunch. He had seen Sam’s teacher heading towards the parking lot and Dean cursed aloud.

When he finally reached the hallway where Sam’s last class was, he didn’t see the younger boy. What he did see was a group of boys leaving a classroom, and when they caught sight of them they all took off down the hallway in the opposite direction at a dead run. The unease in his stomach morphed into rage in no time flat, but if possible fear and guilt settled in his gut even stronger.

He was afraid of what he would find in that classroom…

While a part of him wanted nothing more than to chase after the little bastards, Dean ran to the classroom door instead. He stopped dead seeing Sam laying there on the floor and cursed loudly. He

“Motherfucker!” Dean wasn’t sure if he was cursing Eric or himself.

Dean rushed to Sam’s side and dropped down on his knees next to the younger boy. He had let this happen… god damn it…

“Sam?”

He gently helped Sam roll over onto his side so he could assess the damage. The fresh blood on Sam’s lips and the pain in the younger boy’s eyes had him seeing red. He was going to kill those fucking bastards…

He heard Dean's voice and the curse that accompanied it. He agreed whole heartedly with the sentiment. Hearing his name he opened his eyes and then with Dean's help he rolled on his side. He coughed, getting the blood out of his throat that had started to roll there from his mouth.

"Help me sit up," Sam said and blood and saliva spilled down his chin. He groaned as he wrapped his arm around his gut. His head still rang from the wicked blows he had taken. His left eye was all but swollen shut already. He wiped at the blood with the back of his The look of anger and guilt was plain on Dean's face. He briefly wondered how pissed Dean was at him for not doing as Dean had said.

"I shoulda stayed at my classroom door. Might have put up a better fight," Sam said softly. "Nailed me from behind. Went for water to take aspirin. Stupid. Thought I was being careful." He turned his head from Dean and spat coppery blood out of his mouth. His head was beginning to clear a little now that he was sitting up. It was little consolation that Mark had only hit him once in the stomach or that he had nailed someone with his back pack and punched Mark once.

"Help me get up and take me to your place. I'm done for the day," Sam said and began to climb unsteadily to his feet, his knee not at all happy when he put weight on it. He did not want to go home. He was certain no one would come to the salvage yard. He wasn't so confident about his house. He just wanted to get some ice on his face and lay down.

Dean frowned in concern when he saw the younger boy actually cough up blood. It could be just from his mouth… he hoped it was just from his mouth… If those fucking bastards had hit Sam in the gut hard enough to do internal damage… no, they couldn’t have. Sam wouldn’t be able to move at all if that was the case. Sure he needed Dean’s help in order to sit up, but he was able to stay sitting up with no problem. Dean wanted to check Sam over thoroughly just in case, but he certainly couldn’t do it here.

His hands clenched into fists at his side as his eyes took in every new bruise on Sam’s face. Dean cursed himself as a fucking idiot for so easily falling for Eric’s stupid game. He should have been here, damn it. He had known something wasn’t right. He should have gotten here sooner…

He was going to make those little bastards regret ever laying a hand on Sam. They were going to be wishing they’d never even looked at the younger boy by the time Dean was through with them.

When Sam said he was ready to go, Dean nodded in understanding. He would have suggested it even if Sam didn’t. Dean grabbed the younger boy’s bag and then helped Sam onto his feet. But seeing how hard it was for the younger boy to even stand up, Dean made a decision.

“Put your arms around my neck.” He told Sam, not really giving the younger boy the opportunity to refuse, before he lifted him into his arms in a ‘bridal carry’. This way they’d be able to get out of here quicker and there wasn’t any reason for Sam to try to make the trek when he was already in enough pain.

Sam wasn't real happy when Dean left his side and he felt himself sway a little on his feet. He watched as Dean grabbed his back pack. Oh yeah, that was probably good. He didn't really want to carry it though and was glad that Dean shouldered it. He realized he still clutched the pouch of quarters in his hand and after fumbling a moment, got the small bag back in his pocket. He was certain it had helped add power when he punched Mark. And he had nailed someone with his pack. Two small and insignificant victories, but victories all the same. At Dean's words he looked a blankly at the senior. Dean guided one of Sam's arms to his shoulder and then Dean swept him up and he wrapped the other arm around Dean's neck, the young man's words finally sinking in. He rested his cheek against his own arm.

He was being carried like a chick or like a child. He wanted to complain, he wanted to tell Dean to put him down. But his knee ached. His head ached. His face ached. His gut ached. Dean's arm across the bruises on his back wasn't real comfortable, but he decided it was the lesser of the evils. At least Dean didn't throw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, but he didn't think his stomach and ribs could have handled that.

Well, if there was any doubt in anybody's mind that Dean was his sponsor this would certainly confirm it. He hoped Dean wasn't going to take him to the school nurse or doctor or whatever they had here. He just wanted off campus, away from everyone. He didn’t want his parents called either. Though maybe it would wake his father up to the fucked up situation at school.

He ground his teeth with every bit of jarring Dean gave him, though he knew Dean was trying to be careful. He heard a few things said as they crossed the campus, mostly Oh, shit, or stuff like that. He tightened his arms around Dean's neck when Dean told him to and heard the car door open. Dean eased him into the front seat. He wondered why Dean didn't lay him down in back and then realized every time Dean stopped or started he'd be flopping around like a rag doll. He let his head hang forward a little. Blood was still dripping from his nose a little and he wiped it away. Maybe it would be easier to simply go back to Eric.

Don't wimp out on me now, Sam. Yeah. If he didn't have Dean looking after him, he was pretty certain he would have. He'd have gone back to Eric and done whatever the senior wanted. He had no doubt Mark would keep his promise about the basketball team fucking him bloody otherwise. He had no doubt the beatings would continue. Dean was his only hope to avoid that fate. If it meant being Dean's bitch, he still figured Dean would be better than Eric. If he wasn't, then he guessed he could always ask Eric to take him back. It would certainly make his father happy. He felt the tears slide down his face as Dean got in and started the car.

The fact that Sam didn’t even put up a token protest to Dean carrying him like this was just another testament to how much pain the younger boy must be in right now. Every sharp inhaled breath Sam made, every soft noise of discomfort the other boy made no matter how gently Dean tried to carry him, only made the young man angrier.

He knew his expression had to be murderous as he carried Sam as quickly as he could through the campus to the parking lot. A lot of people stopped to gape at them as they passed, but Dean ignored them all. No one tried to stop them, not even to ask if Sam were alright.

Dean wasn’t sure, but that might have pissed him off even more.

When they finally reached the parking lot and the impala, he had Sam hold onto him a little tighter as he got the door open and the younger boy situated as comfortably as possible in the front seat. Dean didn’t waste any time going around to the driver’s side, getting in, and starting the car. He knew there would probably be hell to pay for the two of them just taking off like this in the middle of the day, but he didn’t really give a shit right now.

Dean lowered the volume of the stereo quite a bit before he pulled out of the parking space, and started to drive, however he put on the brakes again before they’d even left the parking lot. The reason? That god damned red Ferrari. Dean put the car into park.

“I’ll be right back.” He told the younger boy before he got out of the car.

Pulling a switchblade out of his pocket, Dean snapped it open and one by one he jammed the blade into each of the Ferrari’s tires. The hissing of the air out of the slashed tires satisfying, but he wasn’t done, not by a long shot. Giving Sam a grin, Dean leaned in through his window and popped the trunk of his car out of which he grabbed a crowbar.

There was no one in sight so Dean didn’t waste any time smashing all the windows and making several nice sized dents anywhere he could think to put them in the perfect paint job. Smiling when he was finished, Dean tossed the crowbar back into his trunk and got back in the car.

Sam had to admit he was glad Dean turned down the stereo. His head hurt enough. He furrowed his brow when they stopped before hardly getting going and lifted his head as Dean got out. His gaze darted around the parking lot, fearful Eric and some of his cronies might be there trying to stop them. Sam wiped away his tears and watched as Dean slashed Eric's tires. When Dean took the crowbar out, Sam returned Dean's smile as best he could. He watched with great satisfaction Dean beating the hell out of Eric's car. He wished he was able to help. God he wished he was able to help. He enjoyed every thunk of metal against metal and the crunching sound made as Dean took out the windows. When he was better and Eric got back his fixed car or a new car, Sam decided fire might be good. Or filling it up with manure and supergluing the tires to the pavement. Sugar water in the gas tank. Or emptying all the fluids. Yeah. Eric would never have an intact, pretty car again if Sam had any say in the matter. And neither would Cody or Adam.

"Wish I coulda helped," Sam said. His lips were so swollen his words were more mumbled than anything, but he knew Dean understood him.

Sam stayed silent all the way to the salvage yard, absently noting how carefully Dean started and stopped at the stop signs and street lights. It helped but the rumbling of the engine really kind of hurt his head. He was very glad when they reached Dean's place. He pushed open the car door and tried to get up but he just hurt too much. He let Dean carry him inside and set him down on the couch. While Dean disappeared to get the first aid kit, Sam slowly pulled off his coat and unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off. He tried to lean over to get his shoes off, but the pounding in his head persuaded him that wasn't a great idea. He sank back into the couch and closed his eyes. Well, eye. He grimaced a little when he heard the light turned on beside the couch and it shone in his face.

"Ice, blanket, Tylenol, darkness. And my shoes off. That's all I need," Sam mumbled.

Dean was glad that at least Sam had enjoyed watching him take the crowbar to that asshole’s car. He almost wanted to stick around, just so that they could see the look on Eric’s fucking face when he saw what had been done to his ‘beloved’ red Ferrari. Dean knew it wouldn’t so much be a blow to Eric’s wallet the repairs would cost him, but the blow to his pride. It wasn’t enough, wasn’t nearly enough, but it was a start.

He wished Sam could have helped him too, but at least the younger boy’s eyes didn’t look quite as defeated now. As Dean watched the younger boy out of the corner of his eye as he drove, he promised himself that he’d give Sam the opportunity to beat the ever loving shit out of Eric. Give the fucking prick a taste of his own medicine.

Until that time, Dean would happily do the honors for Sam. Those little bastards that had worked Sam over today. He was going to have Sam give him their names, if he knew them, or point them out if he didn’t. He was going to track the little fuckers down and have them begging for their mommies by the time Dean was done with them. He would have loved to go after them right now, but it would have to wait. He had to take care of Sam first.

Dean tried to drive slowly and more carefully than normal, but he could tell the drive was still taking a toll on the younger boy. Maybe he should just take him to the hospital instead… but Sam hadn’t asked for that. Sam had asked him to take him back to his place, so that’s what he’d do.

When they got to the salvage yard, the tow truck was gone again, and maybe that was a good thing. Not that he thought that Bobby would have given him much flack for skipping school given the circumstances, but he’d rather just worry about taking care of Sam right now than explaining what had happened and why.

Again, Dean lifted Sam up into his arms without asking and the younger boy didn’t complain as he carried him into the house and helped him sit on the couch.

“I’ll be right back.” He told the younger boy gently and hurried into the kitchen. Grabbing a towel and loading it up with ice, a glass of water, and the big first aid kit he returned to Sam. He set down the first aid kit on the floor with a small chuckle as the younger boy listed off what he wanted. Dean opened up the first aid kit and grabbed some painkillers.

“I’ve got something better than Tylenol. It will make you a little drowsy but you should probably get some rest anyway.” Dean said, giving Sam the pills and glass of water. Waiting for the younger boy to take them before he helped Sam lay down on the couch, then moved to Sam’s feet to help him take off his shoes like the younger boy asked.

“Just let me check you out, then you can sleep. Try not to move.” He told the younger boy, taking out his knife again and went to work using it to cut off the bandages wrapped around Sam’s chest. Knowing it would be a lot easier on Sam to just do that than having Sam sit up so he could remove them. The bruising around Sam’s chest and stomach was worse, of course, but not as bad as Dean had feared. He ran his fingers carefully over Sam’s chest and stomach, just to make sure.

“I’ll mummify you again later.” Dean told Sam with a slight smile, satisfied nothing was broken and Sam wasn’t bleeding internally or anything. He grabbed some gauze out of the first aid kit then, wet it down, and started cleaning off Sam’s face as gently as he could. He also smeared some antibiotic cream on the worst cuts that would also help dull the pain, and finally handing Sam the towel with ice. When he was done Dean stood up and grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and laid it carefully over the younger boy.

Sam didn't even ask what the pills were. He didn't care. He just wanted his face and head to stop throbbing. He tossed them back and grunted as Dean helped him lay down. He was really glad to get his shoes off. He watched with a little trepidation as Dean pulled out his knife. Dean only used it to cut layer after layer of the wrapping around his ribs free. It actually felt kinda good to get them off, made him feel like he could breathe a little easier. He couldn't help but flinch at Dean's touch. His fingers were icy cold.

When Dean brought the wet gauze up to wipe his face clean of the blood, he hoped Dean couldn't tell he'd been crying. He just watched Dean dully, pretty much ignoring the pain. Whimpering that it hurt wasn't going to make it not hurt and the young man was being as gentle as possible, he knew. The blanket the senior draped over him was fluffy flannel, not too thick, not too thin. He put the ice up against his eye.

"My knee. Would you check it too?" Sam asked. He really thought it was still just badly bruised, but Dean seemed to know what he was doing. Reluctantly he reached down and undid his pants. He didn't want the pants cut, but with the wrap on the knee, Dean wasn't going to be able to get the pants leg up. Grunting, he squirmed out of his pants beneath the blanket and dropped them on the floor. He heard the soft clink as the pouch of quarters it the pocket struck the wood. Pulling back the blanket he exposed his wrapped knee and watched as Dean carefully cut through the wrap there too, the last of it sticking to the skin a little as it came off bloody. He thought his knee had landed on something sharp in the classroom, maybe a pebble or something but the blow to his face had made it a minor concern. He was relieved to see it looked only a little swollen. He watched Dean clean away the blood and then prod at it. Yeah he hissed a little, but there was no lancing pain. He saw just a bead or two of blood bubble up from Dean's exam and the pulling away of the bandage. The cut or split in the skin or whatever, didn’t seem to be bad. Good, he sure as hell didn't want stitches on his knee. Dean finished cleaning it up then got him some more ice. By that time Sam was having trouble staying awake. He stopped fighting it and let himself drift into the blissful darkness of sleep.

Dean nodded when Sam asked him to check his knee and watched as the younger boy worked on getting his pants off. He would have helped, considering Sam seemed to be having difficulty, but something in the younger boy’s determined look on his face stopped him. Maybe Sam just felt like he needed to do something for himself, or maybe he didn’t trust Dean enough to let him take his pants off. Whatever reason, Dean decided not to offer his help unless Sam asked for it.

When the younger boy moved the blanket to expose his knee to Dean, the young man knelt down beside the couch and took out his knife again. He easily cut off the wrappings around Sam’s swollen knee. Being even more careful as he removed them when he saw the blood staining the bandages.

The cut wasn’t bad however, probably thanks to the wrappings. In fact, aside from the blood, Sam’s knee looked a little less swollen than yesterday. Dean cleaned away the blood and carefully checked Sam’s knee. Again satisfied that there was no additional damage, he wrapped it up again lightly. He’d put a tighter bandage on it again later but right now he wanted it to breathe a little.

He covered the younger boy up again and could see Sam’s eyes drooping as he put away the stuff he’d used in the first aid kit. He got up to make another bag of ice for Sam’s knee and when he returned, Sam’s eyes were closed. He sat down on the floor next to the couch again and put the ice over the younger boy’s knee. The fact that Sam didn’t even stir told him Sam was out like a light.

Dean stayed there, watching Sam sleep. Feeling guilt gnawing in his gut for allowing this to happen after he’d promised Sam he would protect him. It wouldn’t happen again… come hell or high water, Dean was going to make sure of that.

After a while he decided since he was home he might as well get some work done. Before he did he got up and checked the ice pack over Sam’s eye. Satisfied it was doing some good Dean brushed the wet strands of Sam’s hair gently off of the younger boy’s forehead before he went to change and went outside. Though Dean made sure to come back in every fifteen minutes or so to check on Sam.

It was ten till two and Bobby was a little pissed. Mostly he was pissed because he was hungry. The tow he had been called out for, picking up an old car for scrap, turned out to be a classic car about half restored. The wife had been the one to call but her name wasn't on the title. Her husband's was. And her husband was the one restoring it. Since it was getting more attention than she was, as well as all his extra cash, she had called Bobby to haul it away. She demanded Bobby wait until her husband arrived and gave him a hundred to that end. He turned up the radio in the old truck when the guy finally got there and the fighting started. Finally the husband caved and told Bobby he could take it. Bobby wasn't ten minutes up the road, already contemplating what he might be able to sell the classic for, when the guy caught up with him. The guy paid him another hundred plus the tow fee to haul the car half way across town to a storage unit. He had to wait for the guy to actually rent the storage unit then put the car inside. He had made some cash, no doubt about it, a good three hundred dollars, but he'd run out of coffee and was hungry, and well, just flat out grumpy.

When he pulled onto the drive and saw Dean's car parked there in the middle of the school day, his mood didn't improve. He was going to throttle that boy. He thought they were long over this skipping out of school. He took a couple deep breaths. The boy better be sick as a dog or have a mighty fine reason for being home. And that reason best not be suspension.

He slammed the door to the truck and saw Dean working out in the yard, sorting scrap. He wasn't sick then.

"Tell me you have one helluva good reason for not being in school right now," Bobby said walking up to him, glaring.

Dean had heard Rumsfeld bark, but he hadn’t paid the dog much mind. His thoughts were already too busy on other things. That god damned school. Eric. Those little bastards he’d seen running away from the classroom. Sam… his thoughts always came back to Sam. Seeing the younger boy lying there on the floor, bleeding and not moving. Lying there, even more bruised and beaten to hell than he had been before, because Dean hadn’t done his job. Hadn’t kept his promise, hadn’t kept Sam safe... Sure, he couldn’t be expected to be everywhere at once, but he should have been able to at least keep his god damned promise for one day. They hadn’t even gotten through one fucking day without Sam getting the shit kicked out of him!

Clearly they needed to work out some kind of different plan… but he really didn’t know what. Maybe he had just been stupid enough to believe that his reputation alone would have kept Sam safe. Sure, most of the students were afraid of him, and he was left alone. But it hadn’t stopped those little bastards from going after Sam even with the younger boy obviously under his ‘protection’.

It probably wouldn’t help that he had let the little fucks get away with it today. But he couldn’t just chase them down and leave Sam alone. Not that he planned on letting them get away with it tomorrow, but whatever rumors were already spreading about what had happened to Sam and the fact that the boys who’d done the deed had gotten away with it would definitely only make his job harder.

The sound of Bobby’s angry voice from behind him startled him a little (Fuck, maybe he really was going soft) but he turned and met the older man’s angry glare evenly. He had expected Bobby to be pissed off, after all, so he wasn’t at all taken aback by it. Yeah, he had a reason. Whether or not Bobby would consider it a good one, was anyone’s guess though.

“Some assholes jumped Sam before lunch and he wasn’t in any shape to stay there… so we left. He’s in the living room resting.” Dean explained short and sweet.

Bobby saw the smoldering anger in Dean's eyes and when he heard the explanation he felt his jaw clench. Hadn't that kid been put through enough? He turned and strode toward the house. He entered it quietly and looked in on the young teen. Jesus fucking Christ. He went in and knelt by the young man, looking him over. He hoped the rest of the boy wasn't as beat up as his face. He lifted the blanket and saw the bruises coating Sam's chest and stomach. He pulled back the blanket over Sam's legs and saw the wrapped knee, but otherwise, unmarred skin. He gently laid the blanket back over the boy and got to his feet.

He grabbed a couple beers out of the fridge and stepped back outside, waving Dean to join him on the steps. He handed Dean the cold beer then took a pull on his own. "That kid's going to end up in the hospital next time," Bobby said. He eyed Dean and could see the tension in his young charge. "I can call the principal, but don’t imagine it'll do much good, not against Lancaster." He sat in thought for a minute. Dean seemed to care about this young man. He'd seen Dean work his magic on women of any age and he had seen Dean give the occasional covert glance to a handsome young man. He wondered if Dean maybe had a thing for Sam, or if Dean was just picking up Bobby's habit of not being able to turn away a stray kicked one too many times. It didn't really matter to Bobby, he was just glad his 'adopted' boy was finally taking an interest in someone outside of himself and hunting, whatever the reason.

He gave a bit of a nod. "I'll call the principal, get you permission to leave your classes a few minutes early. You willing to look after him? Escort him from class to class? Try to keep the boy safe? Though maybe with this beating, his parents will pull him from the school. That'd be the damned sensible thing to do, though I'm not at all sure that would keep the kid safe from that rich little sonuvabitch. You've got an uneasy truce at that school Dean. This might wreck that for you. I'm not gonna be pissed if you say 'no' to this."

Dean watched Bobby, waiting for the older man’s response. Not sure what it would be. When Bobby simply turned and headed towards the house, he didn’t follow the older man, but his hand clenched around the sharp piece of scrap metal he was holding. He barely resisted the urge to hurl it at something, suddenly all of his anger and guilt over what had happened to Sam rushing to the surface again fresh and new.

It didn’t take long for Bobby to return and Dean let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding when the older man beckoned to him. Dean tossed down the scrap metal and approached the house, gratefully taking the beer that Bobby offered him. He could definitely use one right now.

Bobby’s assessment that the next time those little bastards laid into Sam the younger boy would end up in the hospital did not improve Dean’s mood at all. Unfortunately the older man was right. There was probably very little that the principal could do for Sam. Not against Lancaster’s family who every year made very generous donations to the school board. The principal had barely managed to keep him from getting expelled (at the very least) or arrested the last time Dean had a run in with Lancaster.

Dean’s deep scowl changed to an expression of surprise, at Bobby’s suggestion. Just those few extra minutes could make all the difference in his ability to look after Sam. Of course Bobby couldn’t know that he’d already tried to look after Sam today, and failed. But while he agreed with Bobby that it would probably be best for Sam all around if he didn’t go back to that fucking school, he was also afraid that Bobby was right about Lancaster. Now that he’d set his sights on Sam, he probably wouldn’t let up… not until he’d had Sam at least once, willing or not. At least if Sam kept going to that school, then Dean could keep looking after him.

“I was… trying to look after him today. I got there too late.” Dean admitted, averting his eyes guiltily as he took a long pull off his beer. The young man sighed and shrugged. Might as well tell Bobby everything, the older man was probably going to hear it sooner or later anyway.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve already wrecked that ‘truce’. With a crowbar.” Even as he said it he couldn’t help but smirk thinking about the damage he’d done to Eric’s pretty little Ferrari.

Bobby had to admit he was a little surprised Dean had been trying to watch over the sophomore. But when it was one man against Lord knew how many students doing Eric's bidding, it wasn't any surprise Dean had failed. Bobby would take demons to humans any fucking day of the week. At least you knew they were going to try to fuck you over.

When Dean mentioned the crowbar, Bobby groaned, hoping like hell no one had seen Dean do whatever he had done. Knowing Dean, it was probably trashing Lancaster's car. Everyone might suspect it, but so long as there wasn't any proof, they would be okay.

"Dean, you're going to have to be smart about this. These rich shits can get away with nailing you or Sam at school and risk little if any repercussions. You go out after them without it being self defense, and you're either expelled or in jail. You won't be a bit of good to that boy in there if either of those things happen. Even if it's in self defense I got a feeling that you and Sam's word against one or two of those rich snots ain't gonna mean a thing." Bobby took another pull on his beer. "Let me think on it." He slapped his thigh and pushed himself to his feet. "I ain't had lunch. Going to go fix up some BLTs for us. We prolly ought to wake Sammy about six and see when his parents are getting home. If he wakes up sooner, we should have the boy call one of them. And we need to make sure they have our number here since Sam seems to end up here every day. Don't think it would be wise for him to go home anytime in the near future without someone with him anyhow. I'm assuming you're going to be okay him coming here every day? Maybe you can teach that boy some fighting skills."

Dean frowned, but he knew Bobby was right. He might want to beat those little shits bloody right there in the middle of the campus, but he couldn’t risk being expelled or going to jail. Not that Dean had ever really cared about being expelled before. But now he actually had a reason not to be. Hell, even being suspended would be very bad, for Sam, if Dean wasn’t there…

He nodded when the older man said he’d think on it. If anyone could come up with an air tight plan, it was Bobby. Dean was glad that Bobby was on his side about this. Not that he thought the older man wouldn’t be at his back, but it was still good to know that Bobby wasn’t getting all bent out of shape about him skipping school, and whatever else Dean was going to have to do in the future, to keep both himself and Sam safe. Just telling him to be smart about it.

Sure, the older man was nothing if not practical. Dean knew that. But he also knew that Bobby had always really wanted him to graduate from that school ever since the principal had offered to let him go there. If things got as bad as Dean expected it might…

“Alright.” Dean agreed, giving the older man a nod when Bobby said he was going to make them some lunch. He had to admit, he was pretty hungry too. Dean wondered briefly if they should wake Sam up so that he could eat, but considering the beating the younger boy had gotten he might not be very hungry. Sleep was probably better for him right now.

Dean nodded again at Bobby’s suggestions that Sam stay with them after school and he teach the younger boy a little about fighting while he was at it. Seemed like they really were on the same page about this.

Dean got up and followed the older man inside, even though Bobby had just checked up on Sam, Dean went into the living room to look in on the younger boy himself. Sam was still sleeping like a baby. The ice packs definitely needed new ice at this point though, so Dean quickly did that while Bobby was frying up some bacon for their lunch. The young man also took the time to put a little more ointment on Sam’s cuts on his face and replaced the ice packs on his knee and over his eye.

Sam slowly opened his eyes, trying to piece together where he was and why his face felt swollen like a balloon. He reached up and pulled the bag of ice off his face. He could feel something cold on his knee too. It all slowly came back to him. Oh, yeah, he got his ass kicked. Again.

Looking around the dim room, he could still see the books. Bobby's. He was at Bobby's again. That's right, he had asked Dean to bring him here. The view through the drapes told him it was still light outside, but probably late afternoon and he could smell the faint aroma of bacon. He didn't hear anything or anyone near by. With a soft groan he pushed himself to a sitting position. He was surprised the world didn't spin or his head didn't start throbbing again. Even so, he still felt like hell. Keeping the blanket wrapped around him he climbed unsteadily to his feet and staggered into the bathroom. After finishing his business he washed his hands, then limped back out to the living room. He peered at his watch. Five-thirty. He was sort of hungry and wandered out to the kitchen. He couldn't open his mouth very wide so maybe some soup would be good.

Dean wasn't in the kitchen. He went to the back door and pushed it open. He saw the tall senior sorting through piles of stuff. He sat down on the steps. He wasn't going to walk that far in just his undershorts and a blanket.

"Dean!" he called. When the teen looked up he waved. Maybe he could get Dean to make him some soup. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the door opened behind him. He twisted and gasped and practically fell off the steps.

"Easy there, son," Bobby said. "Just me. Come on, let's get you back inside. And let's get some pants on you, okay? I'll wrap that knee first, but I don't need a customer showing up to find a teenager in his skivvies and stocking feet." He helped Sam up and guided him back inside to sit him down at the table. Bobby glanced up when Dean came in.

"Get the boy on some soup. Something he don't have to chew much on and nothing that'll burn or make him cough…yeah, probably ought to stick with chicken noodle soup. That okay with you, Sam?"

Sam gave him a nod. "Thank you, Bobby," he said as best he could.

Bobby patted him lightly on the shoulder. "That's okay, son. Glad we can help, just sorry you need it."

Bobby got a bandage out of the first aid kit in the living room and picked up Sam's pants and brought them in. After removing the loose wrap Dean had put on it, he put some fresh antibiotic cream on the cut and then wrapped Sam's knee. He helped Sam get his pants on and he felt a lot more comfortable now that the boy was decently clothed. "We ought to call your parents. Don’t want them worrying about you."

"Mom. Call Mom." Sam wrote the number down on a piece of paper Bobby handed him. "I can't talk real well. You call her? Or Dean?"

After lunch Dean had checked on Sam again before going back to work in the yard. Since Bobby had some work to do in his office, the older man said he’d keep an eye on the younger boy… so Dean didn’t have to keep checking on him all the time. Well, Dean had gotten a lot more work done, but he was surprised how hard it was to concentrate on it… and not going back inside to look in on Sam all the time.

It kind of irritated him. That he couldn’t seem to take his mind off of Sam for five fucking minutes even though he knew Bobby was watching out for him. Sam would be fine. Yeah, he was bruised as hell, but they were just bruises. Not like he’d gotten shot or stabbed or clawed or anything. Sam would be just fine after a couple days of rest. It looked worse than it really was. He needed to quit fucking worrying like a damned mother hen.

It was just because he was feeling guilty. Responsible… and Sam just looked so fucking… helpless… fuck…

The sound of his name drew Dean out of his thoughts and he turned around in surprise. Even more surprising though was how the knot in his chest Dean hadn’t even realized was there loosened just a little seeing Sam up an around, even if he definitely wasn’t at one hundred percent. Hell, probably not even at fifty percent. But better. That’s all that mattered.

Dean dropped what he was doing and jogged to the porch. Following as Bobby helped Sam inside and into a chair in the kitchen. He nodded when the older man told him to get some soup ready for Sam, chicken noodle, well there were plenty cans of that. Dean went over to the cupboard and took out a can and a pan to heat it up in.

He opened the can and started heating up the soup, glancing over his shoulder occasionally as Bobby wrapped up Sam’s knee and helped the younger boy back into his clothes. When Bobby suggested that they should call Sam’s parents, and Sam gave the older man the number, Dean shook his head slightly at the idea of him calling Sam’s mom. Like the woman would really want to talk to him, he’s the one who allowed this to happen to her son after all.

“She’d probably rather talk to you.” Dean told Bobby quickly before turning his attention back to the soup he was heating up.

Bobby glared at Dean’s back. The boy had no self esteem when it came to certain aspects of himself. Getting passed around for eleven years…yeah, he really couldn’t blame the teen, and he couldn’t blame the teen for not wanting to talk to ‘adults’ though Dean was nineteen and legally an adult. He knew th eonly reason Dean was making an effort to graduate was because Bobby dangled teaching him more hunting skills and taking him on hunts in front of him.

“What’s her name?” Bobby asked.

“Keiko Colt.”

Bobby gave a nod and headed back toward his office. He snorted a little to himself. He was a hunter who was watching over a Winchester and a Colt. There was just something funny about that.

Bobby settled into his chair and called the woman.

“Keiko speaking,” the woman said after he punched in her extension.

“Hello, Mrs. Colt. This is Bobby Singer, I’m Dean’s guardian. I wanted to let you know your boy is at my place again. He was jumped at lunchtime by some of his class mates. Dean had been trying to keep an eye on your son, but the boys got to Sam before Dean did.”

“Is Sam okay?” she asked, concern clear in her voice. “Why didn’t the school call?”

“He took some nasty hits to his face. Hard to tell if he was hit anywhere else considering the bruises he already had. Dean brought him home, our home. I don’t know all the details yet. Sam just woke up and for as swollen as his face his, he’s having a little trouble talking. Dean’s not big on details, not big on talking, honestly. He tends to keep it short and to the point. We’re feeding Sam some soup right now. I can have Dean bring him home or do you want to pick him up? What time will you or your husband be home?”

“I think I’ll pick him up,” Keiko said. She wanted to see where her son kept ending up and wanted to see Dean in his element. In her house, he seemed very uncomfortable. And she wanted to meet Mr. Singer. “I’m assuming you’re the Singer of Singer Salvage?”

“Yessum.”

“Okay. I know where you are.” She had already looked up the addresses of the junkyards around town. She had made notes and saw that Singer Salvage had a five star rating as far as a business to deal with and was a Better Business Bureau member. “I’ll be there in about a half hour.”

“I’ll make sure he’s ready to go.”

Bobby walked back out to the kitchen. The bowl of soup was in front of Sam and he was slowly eating, though Bobby could tell from his face that some of the salt from it got into Sam's split lip. Yeah, Campbell's was bad for salt. "Yer mom'll be here in about a half hour to pick you up."

"She wants to check you out," Sam mumbled.

Bobby chuckled. "Yeah, I kinda figured."

"She likes tea," Sam offered.

"Does she now?" Bobby said, amused at Sam's subtle way of telling him Mrs. Colt would probably want to talk with him for a few minutes. "Well maybe I can have some tea ready for her arrival. With a name like Keiko, I assume she's Japanese?"

"Third generation American, but Dad's the first non-Japanese in the family. We have family back in Japan." Sam scooped up the napkin and caught he soup that dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

"Sorry, I shouldn't be making you talk. You eat. Dean, help me pick up the living room since we've got company coming."

While Bobby was gone Dean finished heating up Sam’s soup, making sure it wasn’t too hot so that the younger boy could eat it easily without it burning his mouth or anything. Sam’s mouth had to be damned sensitive by now.

Dumping the soup contents into a plastic bowl he brought it over to the table and set it down in front of Sam. Only once he had, and Sam began eating, Dean found himself a bit at a loss at what to do now. The younger boy would probably only feel uncomfortable if Dean stood here and watched him eat. But at the same time Dean found himself a bit reluctant to just leave Sam alone. Which was utterly stupid, it wasn’t like the younger boy was going to choke on his soup or anything if Dean let him out of his sight.

Before the moment could become too awkward thankfully, Bobby returned. Sam’s mom was on her way. That was good. Dean figured he should probably make himself scarce before she got here. But when Bobby asked him to pick up the living room real quick before she got here, he nodded without complaint and headed into the other room.

The first aid kit was still out even though he’d put its contents away, and that was the first thing he put away. The room itself was actually pretty clean, Bobby might be a bachelor and everything, but he definitely didn’t like a messy house. Sure there was clutter, books and papers and stuff piled about, but the house wasn’t dirty.

Dean straightened up as best he could though, gathering up some of the papers and books that they definitely didn’t want lying around out in the open with ‘company’ coming. Damn it, he probably should have put them away before the first time Sam had mentioned Bobby’s books, but he just hadn’t thought of it.

When he was done he made sure the doors to their rooms and the office were shut and then looked briefly into the kitchen. Bobby was busy making the tea and Sam was still eating his soup. Figuring his presence wouldn’t be missed, Dean made his escape outside then. It was still light enough he could get some work done on his restorations, and he’d know when Sam’s mom came and left.

Sam only got about half the soup down before he just didn't want any more. Bobby wrapped up his ribs and helped him get his shirt back on. By that time, they heard the sound of a car engine out front.

Bobby stepped out front and saw a blue SUV, with a petite Japanese woman getting out. "Konnichiwa Colt-san," Bobby said, greeting her in Japanese.

"Konbanwa Singer-san," she replied with a smile. "You speak Japanese?"

"Hai," Bobby acknowledged. "A beautiful language, Mrs. Colt. Welcome. Please come in. Sam's inside. He is…pretty beat up."

"Do you have any idea what this is about? I know that he and Eric had a falling out of some sort, something to do with girls he said."

Bobby shook his head. "'Fraid I don't. I can tell you Dean had it rough there at first. You can see, we ain't 'xactly Chalmers material financially. He had his run in with an Eric. Eric Lancaster. Next day a couple of them tried to jump Dean. He's, well, he's a good fighter. If the principal didn't owe me and owe me big, I think things would have gotten a bit ugly. I think maybe your boy might be running into something of the same, that he's not rich enough for those snot nosed brats."

Keiko sighed. "Yes, I suspect that's true. It all seemed to be going well when Eric, the same Eric that bothered your son, befriended Sam the first day. He has been doing so well at that school, and Eric treated him so well. I honestly don't understand what happened. Eric seems like a nice young man though," she paused and said softly, "he's got a bit of the too smooth talk and a look in his eyes that makes me just want to use him for target practice."

"You shoot?" Bobby asked, surprised as he ushered her inside.

"Bow. Made it to the Olympics once, came in sixth in the individual so I can't complain. The team didn't make the semifinals."

"Any time you want to come out and shoot, be my guest. Love to get some pointers."

Keiko saw her son and inhaled sharply. She approached him and shook her head. "I will kill those sons of bitches," she muttered.

"Dean trashed Eric's car already," Sam said.

"Maybe next time a little drain cleaner in a ping pong ball…" she suggested.

Bobby had to bite his tongue. He liked the way this woman thought.

"You're not going back to that school, I don't care what your father says."

"Mrs. Colt can I get you some tea?" He gave her a look suggesting he would like to speak with her.

After a moment of hesitation she gave a nod. She squeezed Sam's arm. "You just sit here and rest while I speak with Mr. Singer for a few minutes."

Sam gave a small nod.

"It's Bobby, ma'am," he said as he led her into the kitchen and poured her a cup of green tea and one for himself.

"Keiko."

"I'm afraid even if you put Sam in a different school, that Lancaster boy will still go after your son. Until what ever is up his crawl is satisfied, I don't know that your boy will be safe any where. Dean, he's offered to try and look after Sam. I'm going to call the principal and see about getting Dean out of his classes a few minutes early so he can escort Sam to and from his classes. I can't promise Dean can keep him safe, but I think he would be safer under Dean's gaze than in some public school. He can come here after school and Dean and I can teach him to fight. In a few months, I imagine Sam will be able to stand on his own."

"I'll need to speak with my husband about this," Keiko said and sipped her tea. "It sounds sensible if you are sure you don't mind."

Bobby shook his head. "Don't mind at all. Think it'll be good for Dean."

"You said you were his guardian."

Bobby nodded. "Found the boy half froze out in one of the junk cars a few years ago. Runaway. Orphan. Took awhile to get him to trust me. Obviously he'd been abused. I ended up," he shrugged, "I took the boy in. I got no family, my wife died several years ago. He needed someone to look after him. He took to working on cars like a fish to water. Don't get me wrong, he's been a handful at times, sometimes still is." Bobby smiled fondly, "but it's been worth it. He's a good kid. Just needed some help finding his way. He's still not real trusting and honestly, Keiko, he seems to have a protective streak in him about your boy. He don't take to people real well and your boy is the first I've seen him…look after like this. I think it would be as good for Dean to have Sammy here as it would be for Sam to have a safe place to stay."

She nodded. "All right. I'm willing to try it if my husband and Sam agree. Now I'd like to see Dean, to thank him."

"I'll call him in."

"No, I want to see him where he's most comfortable."

"He's out back prolly working on one of his cars. I'll take you."

She nodded and let him lead the way.

When Dean heard Rumsfeld bark he looked up from where he’d been bent underneath the hood of one of his restorations. Seeing the SUV coming up their driveway he whistled for the dog so that the animal wouldn’t jump all over Sam’s mom and possibly end up knocking the petite woman over. He shook his head a little as the dog ran up to slobber all over him instead. Really, that knuckle head was too damned friendly to be a junk yard dog.

As Dean ducked into the storage shed for his tools, making sure that Sam’s mom wouldn’t notice him, he couldn’t help but marvel again how little the younger boy looked like her. Not one damned bit. Not that Dean really looked much like either of his parents… at least from what he could tell from the two black and white yearbook photographs he’d managed to find of them.

He wished he could remember them better. What they’d looked like. The sound of their voices. Sometimes, when he dreamed at night, he thought he could see them so clearly. Him and his dad throwing the football to each other in the back yard, giving little Sammy a kiss goodnight and listening to their mom sing his baby brother to sleep… But then the dream changed, always changed, and all he could see was fire, all he could smell was black smoke, all he could hear was his mother’s and father’s screams, and his baby brother crying…

Dean forced the memories away as he slid underneath the car. It didn’t really matter. Yeah, it was kind of weird that Sam didn’t look the least bit Japanese, but so what? Neither did the other boy look much like his father. Maybe he looked more like a grandparent or something. It happened, he supposed.

He heard the crunch of gravel and turned his head enough to see two sets of feet approaching. One Bobby’s and one obviously Sam’s mom, and Dean sighed. What now? He pretended not to notice them and kept working underneath the car.

Bobby didn't see Dean but knew the boy was good at hiding when he wanted to. He did fine on hunts and customers, but just everyday people, he avoided them. He didn't like to get close to people. Bobby and Rumsfeld were his best friends. Sadly, Bobby knew they were his only friends. Dean was even leery of some of the other hunters Bobby had introduced him to. He was slowly warming up to them as he grew more confident in his hunting skills at least.

Looking around he spotted Dean's feet sticking out from underneath one of the cars he was working on.

"Might I speak to him alone?" she asked quietly.

"Once I get him out from under there," Bobby said with a nod but wondered what she wanted with Dean. Well, whatever she wanted, Dean could certainly handle his own.

Approaching the car he waited a moment. When it was obvious Dean wasn't coming out he kicked his foot. "That's rude, Boy. Taught you better manners than that," he told him. He knew very well they were being ignored. If they weren't being ignored then the boy needed thrashed for not knowing they were there. He was a better hunter than that.

"Mrs. Colt wants to speak to you. I'll be inside." He left unsaid that he would be watching, but Dean would know. Bobby would always have his back be it a zombie, vampire, or pissed off mother.

Keiko watched Dean come out from underneath the car. "Nice Camaro," she said, lightly running her fingers along the fender. I see you've put a Hemi carb on it. It'll be fast when you get done with it. Dual tailpipes and it'll have a good sound to it, let everyone know it's coming and kicks ass." She smiled a little at his surprise. "I've always liked cars. The Mustang my husband used to drive caught my attention long before he did. He just doesn't know I like cars or that I know my way around an engine. Not well enough to rebuild a car. Well maybe an older, simpler car I could manage. If he found out he would have me working on his Mustang and," she shook her head, "that isn't what I want to be doing with my free time.

"I'd like to know what Sam won't tell me. You go to that school so I suspect you know. What happened between Sam and Eric? Why did Eric turn from his friend into his nemesis? I know that boy could stop the attacks if he wanted to. That suggests he's encouraging them and I want to know why. And don't try to spare me the realities of the world. I'm not innocent." She watched him with cool expectant eyes.

Dean grumbled under his breath at the kick to his foot and Bobby’s stern tone. He’d rather hoped that once they saw he was ‘busy’ they would just leave him alone. Well, so much for that hope. What the hell did Bobby want from him? He really wasn’t in the mood for ‘chit-chat’ and he definitely wasn’t in the mood to get his ass reamed by Mrs. Colt for letting her son get the crap beaten out of him. But he knew if he didn’t come out now then Bobby was going to seriously kick his ass.

“Fine.” He muttered. Crawling out from under the car as the older man left. But just because the older man was forcing him to come out to ‘talk’ to Sam’s mom, didn’t mean he was going to stop working in the mean time.

Grabbing his tools he went back to work underneath the hood, and though he was surprised by her knowledge of cars he didn’t comment. He merely shrugged and turned his attention to the Camaro’s engine.

Her question about Sam, what Eric wanted with him… he supposed he wasn’t all that surprised by it. It was obvious she cared about her son. If what Sam said was true, she was the one who’d given the younger boy permission to throw the first punch if he had to, so she was also practical. He had no doubt that she wasn’t ‘innocent’ and could handle the truth about what was going on. The sticky part was, Sam obviously didn’t want his parents to know, or he would have told them himself.

He felt… like he would almost be betraying Sam somehow if he told her the truth, and that didn’t sit too well with Dean at all.

“I’m not the one you should be asking. It’s Sam’s decision whether or not to tell you, not mine.” Dean finally said, turning to meet her gaze evenly.

She wasn't happy about his answer but respected it. It showed he had honor and while she truly wanted to know and understand what was going on, it pleased her that Sam had allied himself with a young man like this.

"Bobby said that he would speak to the principal and see if he could arrange for you to escort Sam to his classes. He said you're willing to look after Sam and to try to keep him safe. After last night and the tension I saw between you and Eric, I would hazard a guess that there was no study session this morning, that you were already trying to look after my son. Thank you for that. With the principal's help, I have faith that you will be able to watch over him. I also am quite certain the attacks will escalate and I will be very surprised if Sam doesn't take a few more beatings over this, regardless of your presence. They seem quite determined and sometimes numbers trump skills. But don't underestimate what my Sam is capable of. He may not be skilled in street fighting, but with someone at his back, I think everyone may be surprised at how devious he can be if he chooses to be.

"He's learning some hard lessons at the moment, Dean. He's got a gentle soul and I wish he could stay innocent of the things in this world that are not so gentle. It is obvious that this school will force him to lose such innocence." She frowned a little. "After the way he started his life, I had hoped he had his share of terrible things already."

She looked Dean over and gave a nod. "Bobby said you and he would teach Sam to fight. I appreciate that at well. Be patient with Sam if he has difficulty at first. He does not have the mindset yet that he will need. You have helped him and he will be reluctant to strike back at you." A slightly evil smile curved her lips. "Don't be afraid to give him a black eye if that's what it takes to piss him off enough to fight. I would rather he receive a black eye from you than to see him in a hospital thanks to them. Teach him what he needs to learn to survive.

"I have yet to speak to my husband about this but I believe he will see things my way. I will be keeping Sam home the rest of the week. He'll return to school on Monday. I'll wait until you've arrived to pick him up before leaving myself. If you change your mind and do not wish to be involved, please, let me know at the barbque on Sunday." She gave Dean a slight bow. "See you then."

As she headed back to the house to tell Bobby she expected them both at the barbque she called over her shoulder, "And yes, now you know where he gets his proclivity for talking."

Dean had half expected Sam’s mother to insist, maybe even demand he tell her what was going on. Well, she could demand all the hell she wanted, but it wouldn’t change his mind about telling her. It was really none of his business anyway whether or not Sam told his parents what was really going on. It made absolutely no difference to him. Yeah, maybe it would make his ‘job’ easier, then again, maybe it wouldn’t. But Sam didn’t want them to know, so they wouldn’t be hearing it from him.

If there was one thing that Dean knew, it was secrets. He certainly had plenty of his own he’d never shared with anyone, not even Bobby.

Mrs. Colt didn’t insist though. Didn’t even really bat an eye at his refusal, and while he was a little surprised at that he only mentally shrugged and turned his attention back to his work. He wasn’t really sure what she was trying to tell him. Or why the hell she was ‘thanking’ him for trying to look after Sam when he’d failed so spectacularly today.

Yeah, she was probably right. The attacks would only escalate… if Dean didn’t put a stop to it right the fuck away. He was still planning on taking a piece out of those little fuckers he’d seen today. Even if he had to break into the office and get their addresses and kick the shit out of them at their homes… that actually wasn’t such a bad idea.

While Dean wondered what the fuck she meant about how Sam ‘started’ life, he really wished she would just stop talking and leave him alone now. If she didn’t want to lay into him, then what the hell else was there to say? Yeah, fine, Sam was learning some hard lessons. Well no shit. Yes, he’d promised to teach Sam a few things, and he’d had absolutely no intention of going easy on the younger boy.

Fine, Sam would stay home for the rest of the week. Good. It would give Dean time to take care of some things without having to constantly keep an eye on Sam too.

Dean scowled deeply however when she mentioned the barbeque. He wasn’t going to any fucking barbeque. He turned to tell her just that, but she was already walking away and since Dean really didn’t feel like extending the conversation he simply let her go. That didn’t stop Dean from muttering under his breath and twisting the wrench in his hand a little harder than he needed to tighten up some bolts. Yeah, he had already guessed where Sam had gotten the ‘habit’. At least Sam he could tell to shut the fuck up and the younger boy would.