Written for my own challenge of what would John and Dean do if they found out Sam was being molested by a teacher. Takes place years before the pilot when Sam's fourteen and Dean's eighteen. As far as I know, I've made up the name of the high school. Supernatural belongs to the WB, which will soon be the CW. Anything else is mine.


Dean Winchester sat at the table, cleaning and checking their weapons while his father, John Winchester, caught a much needed nap. Presently, Dean checked his watch. His eyes widened.

"Oh, shoot," he said. He was supposed to pick Sammy up ten minutes ago. He grabbed the keys to his '67 Impala, scribbed out a note explaining to his dad why his cleaning job was only half done, and raced out the door. Minutes later, Dean pulled out of the driveway and raced down the street. Back at Kenston High, Sam Winchester was pacing in the halls nervously.

"Come on, Dean. Where are you?" he muttered. He didn't want to be here any longer than necessary. Hearing another pair of footsteps, Sam whirled around.

"Sammy, still here?" his history teacher, Janet Thompson queried. The woman was of medium height with dark brown eyes and black hair.

"Uh, yeah. My brother will be here any minute," Sam answered nervously.

"Well, this gives us some time to talk about your last report," Miss Thompson stated.

"What about it?" Sam asked tightly.

"You seem to know an awful lot about ancient civilizations and cultures," Miss Thompson noted.

"Yeah, it's kind of a hobby of mine," Sam allowed. Come on, Dean. Where are you? he wondered.

"Well, I have to say your little 'hobby' is quite alarming," Miss Thompson stated. "I mean, almost every civilization you covered has a history of human sacrifice and and demon-worshipping," she continued. As she talked, she walked up to him. "Now, Sammy, is there something going on at home that you'd like to talk about?" she questioned. Sam quickly blocked the woman's advancing hands.

"There's nothing going on," he told her at the same time.

"Sammy, are you sure?" the woman checked, trying again.

"Stop---stop it," Sam said, again blocking her attempts. Just then, they heard the sound of an engine coming up. Dean. Thank God, Sam thought in relief. Sam stepped away from Miss Thompson as the door opened to reveal Dean.

"Yo, Sammy. Time to go," he called.

"You're late," was the petulant accusation. Dean winced.

"Yeah. Sorry. I was doing some cleaning," he apologized.

"Don't be late again, okay?" came the response.

"Dude, I said I was sorry," the older man stated.

"Come on. Let's just get out here, huh?" the younger boy suggested. With that, he grabbed his brother's arm and basically dragged him away. In the car, Dean glanced at his younger brother.

"Dude, you okay?" he asked, noticing his tense body language.

"Why were you late?" came the accusation.

"I'm sorry. I was cleanin' the weapons and---" Dean began to explain.

"Weapons cleaning?" Sam burst out. "You were late because you were more concerned about the stupid weapons?" he asked. I don't believe it! He was doing some stupid maitainence on some stupid guns while Ms. Thompson was tryin' to get her kicks with me? he thought to himself. Then, he blew out a breath. Dean hadn't known. No one did.

"Sorry. I didn't mean it," he apologized.

"Dude, you okay?" the older Winchester asked in concern. Sammy wasn't usually so touchy, even if he did hate hunting.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just drive," came the response. Once Dean's gaze was back on the road, Sam blew out a soft breath and he lay his head against the seat. He could almost feel her hands on his skin. Hiding the shudder, Sam sank into the interior and let himself get lost in the Motorhead tape that Dean was playing.