Sam's mind was racing. He had half an hour left of his history exam. He had of course been finished for the last quarter of an hour but that did not mean he had stopped worrying about what he had written. Especially because everyone around him was still frantically scribbling down their answers.

This was not uncommon for Sam; he had always been ahead of his classmates, this time even more so as his father had been away for the last week and he'd had extra revision time. But just because he knew deep down that he'd aced the test, didn't mean he could stop worrying. These exams were important to him, if he didn't get high enough grades, he couldn't go to college. It wasn't like they had a few hundred grand lying around if he didn't get a scholarship. Law school was expensive; it was full-ride or nothing.

At 14 most people didn't worry about things like this, but Sam was well aware a slip now would have a big impact later. He hadn't told Dean about his plans, mainly because he was scared that he would either laugh in his face or tell their father, and that would mean big bad trouble. He supposed that may have been a little harsh on Dean, it wasn't like his brother ever hurt him on purpose. Annoy, yes, but hurt him? No way.

Problem was, Dean had this insane sense of loyalty to their father and he didn't lie about important things. Cutting school to go make out with girls, no problem lying about that, but his brother planning to leave? Even a lie by omission would be too much for Dean. If Dean knew, so would their father.

Plus there was the issue of Sam not wanting to hurt Dean. The day he left would be bitter sweet; he be getting out, into the 'real world', but he knew his brother wouldn't be following him no matter how much Sam wished he would.

Dean could have gone to college. He hadn't seen Dean study, ever. Yet he still got B's when he turned up for tests. Sam suspected he was holding back. Dean knew how to fly under the radar; it was what they did. So Dean did enough not to get in trouble for slacking, but not so much the school would take an interest in him.

It was all part of the gracefulness that was Dean.

Sam however always got noticed. He let people see his brilliance. He couldn't understand how Dean could bear to have no recognise what he was capable of. The only approval Dean wanted was their father's and unfortunately he wasn't shown that enough. He may seem cocky and arrogant to most people, but Sam knew that Dean was insecure and John forgetting tell Dean he was doin' good wasn't helping.

Today however Sam was more concerned with rereading what he'd written, again. The knocking on the door changed all that rather swiftly.

Dean.

Great. What was he doing here? And was that a bruise…and blood?!

Without waiting to be invited in, Dean walked into the classroom. He wasn't at this school so he didn't give a crap what the teachers said. He knew Sam was a teachers pet so he wasn't likely to into too much trouble. What did school matter anyway? He was 18 now. He was so close to being able to leave he could taste it and boy, did it taste good.

Sam however was horrified. The closer Dean got the worse he looked. He was trying to walk normally but was obviously having a hard time. Sam also noted that Dean was clutching his arm awkwardly against his chest. His brother was still standing which was a good sign and Sam had seen Dean looking far worse. His cocky smile hadn't been knocked off either; now Sam was pissed.

"Hey Sam." Dean was opting not to call him Sammy, so apparently he was aware he was skating on thin ice.

"What the hell Dean?! What are you doing here?" Sam hissed, glancing around anxiously.

"Geez Sam, I'm offended. Thought you'd be pleased to see your big brother. You're gonna make me cry." Dean pretended to wipe a tear from his eye, he seemed be unable to stop mocking people, no matter what the circumstances. Inappropriate humour was Dean's speciality apparently.

Sam was going to kill him!

"I'm serious, what are you doing here." Sam said keeping his voice hushed even though he knew the whole class was listening really. "I'm in the middle of my exam!"

"Looks like you're finished to me. You haven't written anything for like 10 minutes at least."

"How long have you been here?!"

"Yeah, that's what's important right now." Dean said rolling his eyes. "Since you're done I just need to borrow you for a little bit."

"Sam! You leave this classroom and I will void you're exam." Came his teacher's voice. Sam hated the guy, he was total asshole and vindictive enough to follow through. Sam was a little surprised considering the state of Dean, maybe Mr Hodges hadn't noticed. If he wasn't so scared it would mean his test was cancelled he would have thrown something at the man in stead of just a piercing glare.

Sam sighed. Guess he was gonna have deal with Dean in here, depending on what he wanted.

"Fine. Can I just have five minutes, I won't leave the room. You can have my paper."

Mr Hodges begrudgingly agreed but Sam was given sharp warning to keep it down. So Sam gave in his exam and walked Dean to the side of the classroom.

"What do you need Dean?" Dean looked a little sheepish before he replied.

"Huh, well, I uh need a little fixing up." Dean opened up his jacket to show Sam his blood soaked abdomen.

"HOLY CRAP DEAN!" Their location forgotten for the moment Sam found himself yelling at his brother. Everyone was openly staring now. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?"

"What did I do? I didn't do anything. I kinda…slightly…got thrown out a window." Dean looked down before hastily adding, "But only the second floor."

For a second Sam just gaped at Dean. Then the yelling started again.

"THROWN OUT A WINDOW?! What the hell happened? Seriously?!" Sam struggled to put his brain back in gear. "God… I mean…Dad taught us how to land, what…"

"Come on! He taught us how to land not how to fly! I landed on concrete I might add! So I think I'm doing pretty well right now considering. The bleeding looks worse than it is…so uh y'know it's not so bad." Wow, that was comforting, not.

"Is there an actually reason why you chose not to go to say, I don't know, a HOSPITAL?" Sam asked sarcastically.

"Yeah actually! My shoulder popped out and I'm pretty sure I have a concussion. Does it sound like I should be driving" That took a bit of wind out of Sam sails, Dean decided against adding that he didn't want to get blood in the impala unless absolutely unavoidable. That probably wouldn't go down so well. "But if you rather I crashed and burned that's just fine!" Guilt tripping? Low blow. It worked though.

"Alright, alright, of course I don't think that." Sam rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He felt way too old for his years right now, he was fourteen not forty. "Just back-up a little, why exactly were you thrown out a window?"

"Could you just pop my shoulder back in first? I tried it's just a little awkward right now."

Sam obliged and was met with a groan of relief from Dean after the rather nasty crunch of bone being manipulated back into the right place. Dean rolled the joint a little making sure it was alright. Sam knew it probably hurt like hell but he was all out of sympathy right now and Dean didn't seem too phased. He just sucked it up, the 'perfect little soldier', dad would be so proud Sam thought sarcastically.

"Right. Explanation. Now." Sam hated to think how much that blunt statement sounded like something their father would say.

"Well I was at that pool hall in town. You know the one upstairs; I mean who puts a freakin' pool hall on the second floor? It's just stupid!"

"Gee Dean; I guess they weren't expecting patrons to start doing bad Superman impressions! Shocking really."

"Oh ha-ha, real funny. Look it was like midday, I wasn't expecting anyone to get that pissed off at losin' a little money at the tables." Dean's face suddenly broke out into a wide smile. "Guess how much I made though…go on!"

From the look of incredulity on Sam's face, Dean realised he wasn't gonna get a response.

"500 buck's! Which is pretty damn good for lunchtime even if I do say so myself." Sam apparently didn't share those feelings.

"Well that's just fantastic Dean! Not a lot good if you're dead an' all but y'know, at least I'd have a little spending money! What a lovely funeral you'd have too!"

Dean looked a little hurt at that. He lowered his voice somewhat before responding.

"Well I'm so sorry for lookin' out for you. Dad's not gonna be back for God knows how long and in case you hadn't noticed; food ain't free! I can't magic meals from thin air. What was I 'sposed to do? We needed money, I got it. Geez Sam! What do you want from me?"

Now he felt really bad. Dean made things into a joke most of the time but there sure had been a lot of responsibility piled on him. Sam wanted to apologise but knew that Dean didn't want that from him.

Dean sighed this time. With the adrenaline running out, the pain was become more prominent in his mind. He needed to be stitched-up. The glass shards from the window had laced his chest with cuts. Blood loss was sapping his energy; the couple of miles he'd had to walk had severely bitten into his reserves. Not that he was giving up though; he'd been in far worse positions than this.

He been lost, alone and miles from contact with far worse injuries when he was hunting. Didn't mean it didn't hurt like a bitch though. Of course, he wasn't going to let Sammy see his pain and irritation; he needed to keep up a front, to protect Sam.

"Okay Dean, so you were 'earning' some money," Sam said this with sarcasm but Dean heard the note of thanks anyway, "And then some guy play human cannon ball with you?"

"Not exactly, he got cross, I laughed, his friends got cross too, and I had me a full on brawl on my hands. It was like five-to-one, you shoulda seen me, it was a thing of beauty. I kicked their asses good, like a bunch of bar flies could take on me! They though 'cos they were bigger than me they had a chance, losers, went down so fast I was embarrassed for them."

"Yeah, from the state of you, it's clear you handed them their asses!"

"Wow sarcasm on tap, hilarious, thanks for that Sammy-boy. Anyway, I start walking toward the window to grab my things and one of the guys rushed me from behind. Threw me and him outta the window the stupid moron!"

Sam just sighed.

"He landed on some car parked outside while lucky old me hit the pavement. Anyhow, I checked he was alive, made sure someone called an ambulance and headed over here. Lucky he didn't land on my baby else they'd be some real awkward murder allegations to deal with right now."

"Yeah lucky. You need to take this jacket off."

"No. What I need is get the hell outta here…"

Without waiting for the inevitable witty retort Sam turned Dean around as gently as possible with the goal of removing the prized leather jacket when he froze.

"WHAT!"

"Great, again with the shouting. Man with concussion standing just here…"

"Man, MAN. I woulda thought CRASH TEST DUMMY was more appropriate! And be glad I'm above kicking a man when he's down 'cos right now I'm fighting the urge to slap you upside the head!"

"O-kaaaay, did I miss something?"

In response Sam all but ripped his brother's jacket off. He flipped it round and shoved it into his brother's face.

And there it was.

Burn into the back was a great big hand print.

A hand print that did not belong to a human.

Oops.

"Care to amend your story there Dean?"

"Does this seem like the place Sam?" Dean said, sounding awfully sheepish. "Think we can do any damage control at this point?" Dean added in an overly sarcastic whisper.

Sam barely even heard. He had just realised his ENTIRE class was staring wide-eyed at them.

He was going to KILL Dean! He turned to his brother.

"We are NOT leaving until I get my test results." It was said with such venom Dean knew better than to reply.

Sam walked over and proceeded to violently shoved all his things into his bag. This time he turned to his teacher.

"I'm leaving now. I want my test results tomorrow." It was more of a demand than a request and Mr Hodges just nodded dumbly.

Dean just followed his brother silently. Strange how much authority the kid could have when he wanted.

As they left the school Sam whirled around, pointing a finger right in Dean's face.

"Don't think I will forget about this. I want an explanation. Got that?"

Dean knew the last part was a rhetorical question. Answering meant pain. Man, Sam would HATE to know how much he sounded like John sometimes!

TBC

A/N: What did you think, should I continue?

It's been a while since I've posted anything 'cos I'm doing my AS levels at the moment, fun :(

Still this is a welcome distraction (even though I should still be revising!) This is more fun.

Tell me what you think :)