-Note- Yet another random story I'd forgotten about. I just finished it up a little, did a little cleaning up and voila! Here it is:) Hope you like it! This all stemmed from a random image that fell into my head when I was half asleep, months ago. Probably far fetched, lol okay so the whole thing is far fetched, but I'm twisted. And that's life. Enjoy! -Note-
Dean isn't quite sure how he's wound up here in a classroom full of his brother's classmates, with his brother practically straddling him. Or more importantly who the man waving a gun in their faces is. He knows logically how this happened, knows the steps, the events that took him to this point. But he just doesn't understand it.
He glances down at Sam to find his head still bent, avoiding his gaze. Dean's sure his stomach is as twisted and cold as his own after the little show they'd put on for everyone. But it wasn't Sam's fault and Dean needs to find away to tell him that. So he does what he's always done when Sam's sick or hurt. What he's done since Sam was a baby and their mother was still alive.
He'd been the only one that could calm Sammy down when he woke in the middle of the night or when he was feeling sick. He would climb into Sam's crib and stroke his hair until he fell asleep again. And it had always worked.
It was all he had now and he was counting on it. He lets his hand rest on the top of Sam's head for a minute, worrying about Sam pulling away from him or freaking out. Worried that the only fallback he'd ever had is going to fail him when he needs it the most.
But Sam doesn't pull away, in fact he does the opposite, leaning into Dean's touch more than he's ever done, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Dean shakes his head in relief.
He's still his Sammy.
And his Sammy's wondering the same thing as Dean strokes his hair, calming him. He can remember this morning, the twisted, dejected feeling in his gut as he made his way to class. Dean walking with him to class, or starting to, as usual. Winking and shoving him in the direction of his first period, make me proud Sammy, echoing in his ears.
His brother said it every day. He wasn't sure when Dean had started that or why, he just knew it like he knew the sound of his brother's voice or the brush of his hand against his.
He'd opened his mouth to say what he always said, I've got class. Maybe tomorrow, when Kacey walked up behind Dean and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her lips fell to Dean's neck, effectively wiping the grin from his face.
Dean had a split second to see the wavering emotions in his little brother's eyes before his own slipped shut.
If it weren't for Kacey, Sam would have never known how much Dean liked to have his neck kissed or what that tightening feeling in his chest really meant. Kacey had made him realize a lot of things about both his brother and himself. Things he didn't want to know, shouldn't know, but somehow did.
Dean's eyes fluttered open, half glazed over with pleasure and Sam lost all breathing capability. To have his brother turn such a look on him shook him to his very core. This was the kind of look only Kacey ever got to see. The kind of looks Sam had only in dreams or the once or twice he'd walked in on Dean with girls before.
Times he wasn't even sure his brother would remember staring up at him as he came.
"What is it Sam?" Dean asked, brushing off Kacey's next attempt at starting something up in the middle of the hallway. Apparently Sam couldn't
He hated these overly affectionate displays Kacey seemed to love. He hated them more when Sam was around, because he always got these looks on his face. Disgust or pain, sometimes both.
The only thing he could do was push Kacey away and hope that, that look disappeared and the smile he'd been wearing seconds before reappeared.
Sam closed his mouth and shook his head. Forget it. What was he going to say? I want to be the one doing that, not Kacey? That he was jealous?
His brother would think he'd been possessed or just completely lost his mind, and the next time he brought up any mention of college Dean would have his bags packed and Sam halfway out the door before he'd even hit sixteen, instead of closing himself completely off.
No thank you. He'd stick with the dumb response.
"Sammy?" Dean repeated, his fingers brushing lightly over Sam's arm. He watched his younger brother closely for a moment before turning to glare at Kacey. Couldn't she leave him alone for two seconds? It was obvious there was something wrong with Sam and she couldn't let go of her hormones long enough for him to fix things.
Sam forced a smile and shook his head. "Nothing. Forget it. I'll see you after third."
He hesitated a moment, not sure if he should really let Sam go on this one but finally gave him a tilted grin and nodded. "After third," he repeated.
He nodded, relief seeming to flood his face as he turned quickly and headed towards his classroom, slowing down only when he heard Kacey's voice go slightly high pitched. A sign that they were arguing or she was ready to argue and Dean would be charming and flirtatious and things would go back to before the argument had ever been attempted.
Sam slowed anyway, wondering just how much of this was his fault.
"He's my little brother," Dean said surprising Sam and probably Kacey with a real answer. "He's my responsibility…"
And that was more than Sam wanted to hear. He picked up the pace and hurried into his first period class.
That was where things had started to go wrong. He hadn't been able to concentrate on anything besides Dean and Kacey. Hell, it had taken him a good minute longer than it should have to realize there was a man with a gun in the room.
But when he did, his Winchester instincts kicked in. Completely calm and in control now, Sam tried to make sure everyone else around him stayed the same way. The last thing they needed was a hysterical student.
Things would have been fine if the teacher hadn't been the one to lose his cool and wound up lying in a pool of his own blood. Then all sense of calm or self control fled the other students.
Swearing, he turned to the group of girls behind him and reassured them that things would work out and that they had to stay calm. They each took a few deep breaths and nodded.
Sam wasn't popular like his brother, but the other students knew he was smart and the girls trusted him more than most of the other boys in school.
Meanwhile Dean was in the downstairs south hall trying to pay attention to whatever it is his English teacher was rambling about. He sighed and gave up five minutes into the lecture and leaned his head against the wall. His eyes slipped shut only to find them flying back open in fear seconds later. He didn't know what was wrong with him, couldn't explain it, but suddenly his stomach was twisted up in knots and cold dread ran through him.
Sammy, was his first thought. He jumped up from his chair, startling the students around him just as the first shot sounded. He watched Mr. Wright's face drain of color, his once sour look directed at Dean, replaced with terror.
Dean swallowed his own fear and darted out of the classroom. The school had procedures, had lock downs and evacuations and a thousand other "plans" in case of an emergency.
Plans and procedures that didn't do a damn bit of good. Plans and procedures he wasn't trusting his brother's life to.
He raced up the stairs and down the hall, skidding to a stop so fast he had to grab hold of the door's handle to keep from crashing through the double doors, and down the stairs at this end of the hall.
Unfortunately, by saving himself a spill down the South hall stairs he'd just found himself face to face with the gun he could only assume had sent him running up the stairs in the first place.
He clenched his jaw shut, a smart remark on his lips, and glanced up at the man from his knees. The man was average height, average build, brown hair and dull blue eyes. The kind of guy that just didn't stand out. The kind of guy that could go postal over something like that.
The man gestured for Dean to climb to his feat impatiently.
Dean glanced around the room for Sam, not caring about anything else, and found him smack dab in the middle of nearly every girl in his class. If a man wasn't waving a gun in his face, Dean would have been proud of his younger brother and his popularity with the female gender.
He knew he had it in him. Sam just had to let go sometimes.
Not that, that was the point right now.