This is my first attempt at a fanfic where the boys are little. (I'm not sure if it would count as a wee-chester or a teen-chester, considering the boys ages.) Let me know what you think.

NOTE: I was a preschool Sunday school teacher for over half a decade. I don't swear... however, some of the charaters do. I have found a way to compromise without breaking my standards. So, if you see a statement like "what the h#$" use you imagination to figure out the word. :)

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of it... but I REALLY wish I had that beautiful black Impala! :)


Chapter 1

Sam rolled over in bed, pulling the blanket higher to block out the light.

Oh mama I'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law

Lawmen has put an end to my running and I'm so far from my home

Oh mama I can hear you a-crying your so scared and all alone

Hangman is coming down from the gallows and I don't have very long

Sam kicked off the covers and slipped out of bed.

The jig is up the news is out they've finally found me

The renegade who had it made retrieved for a bounty

Never more to go astray

This will be the end today of-

"Hey! I was listening to that!"

Sam took his finger off the STOP button and rubbed his eyes.

"Dean, do you have to play your music so loud?"

"Do you have to sleep so long?"

Dean sat in one of the hotel rooms chairs tying his shoe. Sam glanced at the clock.

"Dean!" He whined. "It's 7:00!"

"And? If we don't leave soon, we will be late for school. Dad said if we are late one more time we have to start getting up with him at DAWN!"

Sam grumbled, but grabbed his clothes off the chair and headed to the bathroom to get ready. It was only after he was half way through that he realized he had forgotten to set out his clothes the night before. He smile as he pulled his favorite shirt over his head. Dean was the best big brother a kid could ask for.

Dean watched him go and sighed. He put a couple of pop tarts in the microwave, knowing Sammy would be hungry when he finished getting dressed. As he started to divide up their lunch money, the bathroom door opened.

"Hey Dean, where's dad?"

"You know where he is, hunting."

"He left already? Without saying goodbye?"

Dean bit his lip. He knew how Sam felt about their Dad coming and going without a word.

"It was really early. He didn't want to wake you."

"But he woke you?"

He smiled to reassure his little brother.

"It's not like he meant to. He dropped his bag and the noise woke me up."

This seemed to be enough for Sam and Dean handed him his food.

"Now eat your breakfast. It's a long walk to school."

They walked in silence, Dean keeping a constant watch for dangers. He jumped when Sam tapped his arm.

"Sorry."

"It's fine, what do you want?"

"I was just wondering... which of our classes is closer to the door?"

"Mine, why?"

"No reason."

Dean stopped walking and looked down at Sam. He knew him better then to let that question slid.

"Sammy...?"

"It's nothing. It's just that... in case of a fire drill or something, I was just wondering which of us would get outside first."

Dean could tell the ten-year-old was lying through his teeth, but they were almost to school. He'd just let it go for now and get the truth out of him later. They walked into the school together, grateful their dad had managed to find a school that was a K-12, and stopped at Dean's class.

"Now, be good Sammy, and let me know if you need anything."

"Ok Dean, see you at lunch."

Dean went in and sat at his desk. Suddenly realizing that he still had Sam's lunch money, he slipped out of the class and headed down the hall.

Sam slowly approached his classroom. Did his class HAVE to be in room 112? He stared at the open door of room 110, watching carefully for movement. He wished Dean was still with him, he always felt safer with him around, but he would be a sissy if he asked his big brother to walk him to class just so he could avoid...

"Hello wimp-chester!"

He turned and saw the three reasons he didn't like this school... and they were a lot bigger then him.

"So, it turns out," The largest of the three started. "That Toby here forgot his lunch."

He slapped the smallest of their group on the back. Sam sighed, grateful that, for once, he was empty handed.

"I don't have anything for lunch today, Marcus."

"You little liar!" The third growled. "You ALWAYS have lunch money!"

"Really, Leon," Sam took a few steps back, "I don't!"

An evil grin spread across Marcus' face.

"We'll just have to see about that!"

He grabbed Sam and shoved him into the locker. With Toby and Leon each holding an arm, Marcus started to go through Sam's pockets.

"Stop it!" He yelled. "Leave me alone!"

Sam hopped a teacher would hear him, but they never seemed to be around when you needed them. He tried to squirm away, but Leon twisted his wrist in response.

"Hold still worm-chester." He grunted. "Marcus isn't finished."

The pain was so intense, Sam had to fight back tears, but he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him cry. As they neared the pocket where his butterfly knife was hidden, he struggled more. He yelped when he felt the bone his his wrist snap, but he kept on fighting. He didn't want them to steal his knife... especially since he could never explain THAT to his family. He could feel the color drain from his face when Marcus found the weapon.

"What's this?" He asked, holding up the blade.

His smile disappeared when a familiar voice cut in.

"Well, it's not yours!"

Marcus turned only to be knocked to the floor a second later. Sam felt a wave of relief.

"Dean!"

Dean looked up at Sam, rage pulsing through his entire body. One of the two holding his brother charged at him, aiming a wild punch at his head.

"Look out!" Sam called, but Dean hardly needed it.

He not only dodged the fist, but he landed his own blow and tossed the kid to the ground. He repeated the same steps with the third just as the first guy came back for more. Minutes later, Vice-principal Dalton arrive on the scene... just as the last of the three decided not to get back up.

"Dean Winchester!" He bellowed. "My office now!"

Ignoring him, Dean checked on Sam. His brother was cradling his left arm, tears forming in his eyes.

"You ok, Sammy?"

He nodded, but his smile was forced.

"I-I'm fine."

Even though he was trying so hard to hide it, Dean could hear the pain his brother voice. He got the sudden urge to start kicking the boys, now groaning on the floor, when Mr. Dalton took him firmly by the arm.

"Dean, come with me."

"My brother's hurt." He protested. "Let me take him to the nurse first."

By now other teachers had joined the crowd of students that had gathered to watch the fight, and a woman, he recognized as Sam's teacher, Miss Sterling, stepped forward.

"Don't worry Dean, I'll take care of Sam."

He looked back at Sam. He didn't want to leave him. He knew his brother, they didn't. How would they know if Sam lied about how much he was hurting? And what if they found the scar from last months hunt? What if Sam was too scared to remember their cover story? H#$%, Dean didn't even remember it! Mr. Dalton tried to lead him away, but he held his ground.

"I'm staying with Sammy." He said firmly.

He stared down the older man, showing him that he wasn't remotely worried about the consequences.

"Dean." He said sternly. "Come with me now."

"No." His own voice just as firm.

He could see Mr. Dalton was beginning to get angry.

"Listen here young man..." He pointed a finger in Dean's direction.

"Be careful Mr. Dalton!" A kindergarten yelled. "He might hit you too!"

Dean stifled at laugh at the look on the vice-principal's face... then watched the man turn red.

"I am taking you to my office, right now."

"I'd like to see you try."

He smiled at Mr. Dalton's gapping mouth, and payed little attention to the the gasps from the spectators and whispers of how much trouble he was going to be in. What finally got his attention was a hand hand on his shoulder.

"Dean," Sam whispered, his voice shaky, "Please don't get yourself into more trouble. Go with Mr. Dalton. I'll be ok."

The LAST thing he wanted to do was leave his little brother, especially when he was hurt, but the pleading look in Sammy's green-blue eyes got to him.

"Alright." He conceded.

Dean looked up at Miss Sterling.

"You'll let me know how he is?"

"Of course."

She smiled, and gently led Sam down the hall.

Only when they were out of sight was Mr. Dalton able to get him into his office.

"Dean, I am very disappointed in the way you conducted yourself back there."

"I'm not."

"And I think," He continued, despite Dean's interruption, "that your father would agree with me."

Dean smiled, trying to keep from laughing at his instructor's ignorance.

"Then you clearly don't know my dad."

He could tell Mr. Dalton was trying hard to be intimidating, but was failing miserably. As he began to lecture on the importance of self control, all Dean could think about was how his brother was doing in the nurses office. He wished he could be there with him to let him know everything would be alright.

Across the building, Sam was having the same thoughts. As the nurse checked his wrist for a possible fracture he would have given anything to have Dean with him. His brother may only be fourteen, but to Sam he was a hero. And right now he needed Dean's strength to keep from passing out from the sharp pain in his arm. He muttered a curse under his breath and Nurse Banks stared at him in shock.

"Samuel Winchester! Where did you learn that?"

Sam stayed quiet rather then say that word was a regular part of his dad's vocabulary.

"Sam," Miss Sterling asked sweetly, "Are you hurt anywhere besides your arm?"

Sam bit his lower lip. He wanted to say yes. His back was sore where it had been jammed against a lock, he was sure there was a bruise on his chest where Marcus had pushed him, not to mention marks from Toby and Leon's death grips. But if he said something, they would find marks from old injuries he got while hunting. The pain was making him dizzy and there was no way he could to think up good cover stories. So... he lied.

"No, just my arm."

The nurse finished probing and declared it broken. Miss Sterling rested her hand on Sam's back. He knew all she was trying to do was comfort him, but when she pressed against that one sore spot, he winced.

"Just your arm, huh?" Nurse Banks mumbled.

While Sam protested, Miss Sterling and the Nurse carefully removed his shirt, gasping at what they saw. He knew what had surprised them, and he swore at himself for giving it away. Among the fresh bruises, long scars ran down his side. Any hunter worth his salt would have recognized claw marks when he saw them, unfortunately, these people were far from hunters.

"Oh Sam," His teacher whisper, "What did they do to you?"

They? Who did she... Suddenly Sam was hit with a tidal wave of panic. They thought his family was hurting him!

Back in the vice-principal's office, Dean was really starting to test the limits. So far he had ignored, insulted, interrupted, and laughed at the man. Now, he was becoming quite bored with the whole thing and kept looking at the door. Jeez, how long did it take them to see it Sammy was ok? Just when he was contemplating on how far down the hall he could get before Mr. Dalton could get around his desk, the door finally opened and Nurse Banks came in. She gave him a look of pity that immediately set him on edge.

"Where's Sammy?" He demanded.

The nurse silently handed a piece of paper to Mr. Dalton.

"Where is my brother!?"

Now Dean was on his feet and in the man's face.

"Dean sit down." His voice seemed to have lost the fight it had just moments before.

The sudden change made Dean's blood go cold. Instead of obeying, he burst out of the room and ran toward the nurses office.

"Sam!" He yelled, throwing open the door, but the room was empty.

Now in a full fledged panic, Dean raced down the hall to his brother's class. He didn't stop until he was standing in front of the class.

"Dean! What..." The teacher began, startled.

"Where is my brother!?"

She looked at him sadly.

"Dean, lets talk in the hall."

Dean was getting sick of this. He didn't want pity, he wanted Sammy! But, for once, he listened and the two went out the door.

"Dean, Sam was hurt, badly."

All the air left his lungs. He knew he had to find him, FAST! He turned around and bumped right into Mr. Dalton and Nurse Banks.

"Dean, son, we need to talk." The vice-principal stated.

"Screw you! I'm going to see my brother."

"Dean, are you aware of your brother's abuse?" Nurse Banks asked, seriously.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks. He look from Mr. Dalton, to the Nurse, to Miss Sterling, and back to Mr. Dalton. He fought to remain calm, but was feeling nothing but cold hard anger.

"Sam," he said with clenched teeth, "has NEVER been abused."

"Dean, we can help him, but you need to talk to us." Sam's teacher whispered.

"There is nothing to talk about! No one is hurting Sammy!"

"Then how do you explain the scars?" Nurse Banks asked.

Dean thought fast, trying hard to remember their cover, but came up empty. So, he just stuck with their back up.

"He fell."

The adults exchanged skeptical glances.

"Now Dean," Mr. Dalton was using a tone now Dean guessed was suppose to be trusting, "We understand you love your father, but if he's doing something bad..."

He never finished his statement, because he was too busy gasping for air after Dean's fist made contact with his stomach.

"Don't you ever talk about my dad like that! EVER! My dad's a hero!"

Angry tears pricked his eyes. His fists were clenched, waiting for someone else to try something.

"Dean..." Miss Sterling began.

"No! I don't want to hear it! Now tell me, where is my brother!?"

Miss Sterling looked at the floor before answering.

"Child services took him to the hospital."

Dean felt dead. His brother was gone? No! He would get him back! He had to stop them!

"Sammy!"

He bolted down the hall, screaming his brother's name, fighting anyone that tried to stop him, not caring who they were. Just as he reached the door, he was pinned down by the combined efforts of the gym teacher and his assistant.

"No! SAMMY!"

His voice was raw from screaming, but he continued to fight like an animal. His brother was gone, and he had to save him. He just had too.

John Winchester ran up the stairs of his sons' school. The message had only said it was and emergency. He stuck his head into the main office.

"Dean? Sam?"

"Are you Mr. Winchester?" The woman behind the desk asked.

He went up to the desk.

"Yes, I am. Where are my boys?"

The woman gave him a disgusted look.

"Take a seat, Mr. Dalton will be with you shortly."

Confused by her manner, and worried about his children, John stayed where he was.

"I'm not going anywhere until someone tells me what is going on! Where are my SONS!"

He heard whispering behind him.

"That must be were his oldest gets it."

Thoroughly enraged, John turned to see the stern looking school nurse and a man wearing a suite... and a black eye.

"Nice shiner." He commented.

"Courtesy of your oldest." The man responded.

John smirked. This guy had to be almost six feet tall, and he got the smack down from a fourteen year old. He wondered what the guy did to get popped by Dean, when he recognized him as the vice-principal. He braced himself. This was going to be trouble. He went into Mr. Dalton's office and saw two more men and one woman, also in suites.

"Where are my sons?" He repeated, not really caring who all the people were.

"Mr. Winchester," The woman began, clearly in charge, "It has come to our attention that Samuel might be in danger."

John forced himself to stay calm, but everything had just become VERY clear.

"Sam is just fine."

"Then do you care to explain the scars, healed fractures, and bruises?"

"He's a ten year old kid. He plays rough sometimes."

"That may be true, but until that is confirmed we are keeping Sammy in protective custody."

"What? You can't do that!"

"I assure you, Mr. Winchester," the woman said coldly, "we can."

John jumped from his chair, towering over everyone else in the room.

"You can't take my boys!"

"Mr. Winchester," Mr. Dalton said, calmly, "Sam has already been placed with child protective services."

"And Dean?"

"Dean... well... he got very violent."

The man absentmindedly touched the bruise around his eye. John was sure the guy had deserved it and, at that moment, he didn't really care.

"Where is Dean?"

Mr. Dalton stood up, as if trying not to be intimidated.

"Mr. Winchester, your son causes injuries to four students, six teachers, and one teaching aide."

"And what did you do to cause it?"

The man's face grew red and he puffed out his chest in anger. If he was trying to scare John, he was doing a very poor job of it.

"Dean beat three boys until they were nearly unconscious."

"Yeah? And what did they do to Sammy?"

The look on the man's face told him he had been right, not that he needed the confirmation. The only way Dean would react like that is if they did something to his youngest. A knot tightened in his stomach. What happened to his baby boy?

"Mr. Winchester," the instructor continued. "Are you teaching your oldest son to hurt people. Because, if you do, and he gets angry at his brother..."

John cut him off with a right hook to the jaw.

"Dean would NEVER hurt Sammy! Now tell me where he is RIGHT NOW!"

The vice-principal staggered into his chair, dazed from the blow. Seeing he wouldn't get an answer there, John stared down each of the people in turn.

"Mr. Winchester?"

He turned toward the quiet voice in the doorway and saw Sam's teacher. There was sadness in her eyes as she answered his question.

"Dean has been arrested for assault."

John pushed his way out of the office and didn't stop until he was back in the Impala. He grabbed his phone, searching for a number that would help him. After a couple of rings, he heard a friendly voice.

"Hello?"

"Bobbie?" Unable to keep back the tears any longer. "They took my boys."


As with my other stories, I'm not going to post the next part until I'm sure there are people who actully like it enough to keep reading. If you are one of these people, please let me know. (I am a sucker for reviews. When people ask for the next part, even if it's only a few people, I want to post it right away. The more peple ask, the more determained I am to get it out quickly. It's my weakness. :) )