"Samuel Winchester, who dressed you? Perhaps mummy should stick to that." Mr. Wells taunted, voice dripping with mockery.

Sam clenched his jaw in an effort not to speak out.

Dumb, dumb…as if clothes could hide you! Should have known by the raised eyebrows and taut mouth that Dean had supported when he stepped out of the bathroom was a hint that he was an idiot. He had wrapped his arms around himself and pushed past his brother, who looked as if he desperately wanted to say something. But, he didn't.

"I'm talking to you." Mr. Wells had walked over to him as the class continued on with their exercises. Sam's friend Will gave him a sympathetic look but continued running. Sam looked up at the teacher with a despondent look.

And let the words he had been screaming slip out.

"I don't care."

Mr. Wells looked like Christmas had come early.

"Another 5 laps for you!" Sam's mouth opened in protest. Yeah, he had been out of line but so had Mr. Wells for the past week.

"What-sir, I-" he tried to redeem himself.

"I don't care," the teacher mimicked him, a wicked grin on his lips. Sam shut up, eyes hardening, though supporting a dejected slump in shoulders.

"Sir, shouldn't-" Will began to try, and Sam shot him a look that clearly said, thanks but don't get yourself in trouble.

"Quiet-his rudeness earned that. Now onto the next activity-Sam can catch up."

William looked at him and shrugged, not wanting to fall behind himself and also become target to the teacher. Sam sighed and began jogging. Although his body was used to extreme workouts, he was tired. An hour of gym every second day, plus work outs when his dad was home was tiring-but what made it unbearable was the mental abuse his teacher was dishing out on him. The students told him not to take it personally, that Mr. Wells always targeted someone and usually it made them better in the end. But, what was wrong with them in the first place? Of course Sam found it very personal. He was sure Dean would, too.

He passed the females, who smiled at him in sympathy. Yeah they were sympathetic but they didn't do a damn thing about it. One of them, his friend Brooke, looked like she desperately wanted to say something, and even began to take a step towards him. He shook his head at her in warning, and she sighed before giving him a gentle smile and then turning from him. Sam crossed the line after his fifth lap, his legs wobbling slightly.

"Winchester-why are you stopping?" Sam closed his eyes, breathing deeply before opening them and turning to Mr. Wells, who was storming up to him.

"I've done my five." He rasped out.

"No one can do them as fast as that. Do it again."

Sam's fist ached with the desire to slam into the teacher's face. His body, already tense from the extra work out and now anger began to shake as he held himself back.

"Got something to say Sam?"

"Yes, I do! I've done an extra five, now I refuse to do another extra five, on top of the five we already did!" his voice vibrated across the room, bringing stillness as people watched in awe.

"Step outside, boy." Mr. Wells said through a menacing smile.

"Ah, no… changed my mind. I'll take the laps." Sam was quick to back down because of all the torment he had received and taken, never had Mr. Wells smiled at him like that. It sent warning alarms through him.

"Now!"

He spun on his heel and stomped out, followed closely.

"Get back to work!" He jumped slightly as the teacher's breath tickled his ear as he barked the order to the class before slamming the door.

Sam stood deathly still as the teacher began to pace around him, looking him up and down.

"Hold out your hand, Sam."

That wasn't what he was expecting. Confused and hesitantly, he did.

"Pull up your sleeves." Sam was breathing heavily now.

"Sir?" A nauseous feeling was spreading throughout him now, pumping adrenaline through him. He wanted to run, but it went against everything his family had taught him. So he stayed, staring wide eyed at Mr. Wells.

"Just do it." Sam complied, and Mr. Wells smiled before reaching for his pockets.

This felt wrong, and Sam couldn't move.

However he certainly did when a cane was brought across both arms, sending an echoing crack through the hallway. The pain screamed through him, or maybe that was just him screaming. Or beginning to anyway, before having a hand shoved against his mouth. The last time that had happened was with Dean, though it was in a gentle manner. His thoughts pulled him towards that memory, and away from the hallway for a brief, yet relieving moment.

"Hurts, Dean."

Dean rubbed his arm, gripping onto his shoulder as if lending Sam his strength.

"I know buddy, but I have to clean out the cut. If you think this hurts, then you should feel it when it isn't cleaned, and gets infected." Sam felt his eyes go wide as he processed this.

"Have you felt that?" Dean paused in the middle of his treatment.

"Yeah I have. Which is why I'm not going to let it happen to you. Now hold still." Sam obeyed but his mouth didn't. Dean quickly put a clean hand there, careful not hurt his brother but hard enough to stop the noise.

"Sam, please don't yell. I know it hurts but just...scratch me or bite me, whatever, but don't yell, okay?" Dean pulled his hand away.

"Don't want to hurt you." Sam told him through thick wet eyelashes. Dean smiled.

"It's okay Sammy, you used to do that when you were younger too. Old habits die hard, hey?"

Sam was harshly brought back by Mr. Wells.

"This is my school. You, Samuel, are worthless. You are nothing but the dirt under my boots. You won't get anywhere. You hear me? Boys like you amount only to one thing: nothing."

He was reaching for Sam's shirt now, and Sam was too clumsy with disbelief and pain to stop the second attack, which brought himt o his knees. And then his boot was in the wound, and tears were rolling down his face.

"Stop-please!" he breathed out.

Another kick.

Sam couldn't believe it, a teacher, a trusted authority abusing their power for their own dark desires. He really had the worst of luck. It seemed that since he always got taken out by supernatural things, that he would now be taken out by non supernatural beings.

One last kick in his back and Mr. Wells bent to Sam's level. Sam curled himself into a ball as one weak attempt to protect himself.

"Nothing, you understand? I expect to see you tomorrow. If you want to be an A student….how does that do you for you?"

"Yes sir," Sam's voice was ragged and Mr Wells hauled the boy to his feet. Sam's body protested, and he grabbed Mr. Well's shirt, trying to pull himself away. But in such agonizing pain his strength failed him.

"Not a word, got it?"

"Crystal clear," Sam hissed back as he pulled himself together. Shouldn't be too hard-suck it up Sam, you're a Winchester not a Whinechester.

"Good, now in you go." Sam's movements were stiff at first, though his trained body quickly got past it, and the screams from his injuries were now just whispers.

x.

x.

Sam sank into the car, carefully leaning his sore body into the comfortable seat of the Impala. Dean was watching him carefully.

"What's the matter with you?"

Seam peaked an eye open.

"Tired. Homework and research had me up late."

Dean started the car, and Sam relaxed in the silence as he thought the trial of questions were over.

Oh, no.

"How were your classes?" Dean's voice had an edge to it, and Sam sat up straight to look at him, careful not to expose his injuries.

Dean knew something. This Dean was scary too, you didn't know when the ticking bomb would explode, so you didn't know when to run away. But Sam could hardly jump out of a moving car, no matter how tempting the idea was…

"Fine…" he drawled, waiting.

He wasn't disappointed.

"Yeah? Any hard classes? Or, teachers."

Sam closed his eyes.

"Told you I'd find out Sammy." Dean's voice was dark.

"Nothing to it. Mr. Wells is hard ass on everyone."

"Making you run an extra five laps, and then repeat it because he didn't believe you isn't hard ass. That's downright harassment Sam." Dean's fists were clenched around the wheel now, the stony look on his face that warned Sam to proceed very carefully.

"It's worse than it sounds, Dean. He's just, like that."

Dean glanced over at him, the stony look now a feral one.

"Sam I'm not going to stand for it."

"Dean I wanted a normal life, this is normal. Some teachers suck. You have to leave this alone."

"Don't like it Sammy." Dean told him. Dark Dean was scarier than most because any emotion could come out and you didn't know what to expect. But if Dean was dark and it had something to do with Sam Winchester, you can bet something was going to go down.

"Please." Dean looked over at Sam again from the corner of his eye, though still thorough enough to make Sam nervous.

"He hurt you?"

"What? No! Just sore from the laps. Let it go."

"Dunno if I can do that Sam. He the reason you had bad days?"

"No." There was silence as Dean thought and Sam looked straight ahead.

"Dunno if I believe you Sammy."

"Trust me. Please," Sam begged. He needed Dean to leave this alone.

Dean pulled up at the motel. Sam eagerly went to climb out, but Dean met him at the door. He grabbed his brother by the arms and pushed him gently against the car. Sam froze and gulped as his brother looked him sternly in the eyes.

"You tell me everything that happens. If I find out again from someone else Sam, I won't be impressed. We understood?" There was no subtle warning but a full blown one that was so clear that it rang through Sam's ears long after Dean had enforced it.

Sam repeated words.

"Crystal clear."