Guidance

Dean Winchester – currently Davies – has been in his fair share of fights. Sometimes they originate from jealous boyfriends being pissed with him for hitting on their token cheerleaders. These are the fights he doesn't mind so much, and actually finds kind of funny. Then there are the ones that he instigates, and these he could do without. Partly because they revolve around beating the crap out of guys who pick on Sammy and he hates that his brother is bullied enough to merit it, and partly because Dad doesn't like him rocking the boat at school, so to speak.

But yeah, he's not exactly a pacifist. This is the first time a school has sent him to a guidance counsellor for it, though. Sitting on a plastic chair in a small room off the library, facing a smiling woman who thinks she can solve all his problems is not how Dean wanted to spend his lunch hour. He'd rather be doing his math homework, which comes as a shock even to him.

The counsellor – "Call me Wendy." – clicks her pen and smiles at him again, glancing at the bruised cheekbone his latest show of brotherly love has garnered. "Been in the wars, huh?"

He sits back in his chair and adopts his defensive-yet-witty demeanour saved for such occasions. "I like to think of it as character building, actually."

"I hear you do a fair bit of character building."

Dean smirks. "My speciality."

She smiles back. "So, how do you like Salem?"

There are different ways that could be answered, though Dean thinks it wise not to bring up the coven of witches that brought them here in the first place, or that dad has been extra tetchy lately and made moving even worse than it usually is. He puts on a cheery face. "It's okay. I like school." Which is the biggest lie in the world, and he can tell Wendy knows it as much as he does.

"Have you settled in okay?"

"I've settled in swell." Another lie. Another one she catches, too, from the underlying sarcasm in his words.

"Your tutor tells me you were late for English yesterday." She says, after a moment of silence.

"Yeah. I was kinda busy."

She raises an eyebrow. "Busy beating up a couple of boys in the year below you?"

Dean gives her a look that makes her smile drop a notch or two, a look that smiles but tells her to back off. "Karma had it in for them, what can I say?"

"Karma?" She frowns slightly and scribbles something down. Probably writing him off as a vigilante nutjob, Dean thinks.

He shrugs. "They can't expect a fair fight when they spend their free time pushing seventh graders around." He tries not to think that right now they could be doing just that, and that because he's stuck with a stupid therapist or whatever, Sam could be getting his nose broken.

The guidance counsellor looks at the notes she's got on Dean's home life and how it could be causing some of the trouble. Or at least that's what he thinks the notes are, from the few words he can read upside down. She looks up after a second or two. "Your brother Samuel's in seventh grade, right? Was he being picked on by these boys?"

"Sam's a good kid, but he doesn't stick up for himself. He attracts that sort of thing."

"Does your father know about the bullying?"

Dean thinks about it. Of course John knows Sam doesn't fit in much, but he doesn't think Sam's actually told him about the past month, about the bruises Dean caught sight of by accident and the hateful notes slipped inside his backpack. "Sorta. Dad and Sam don't get on all that well. They argue a lot."

Wendy nods, writing something else down. "How about you? Do you have a good relationship with your dad?"

This is a question Dean finds hard to answer. His first response is to nod, because they do, kind of; they don't scream at each other, and he's obedient enough to avoid the lectures Sam gets. He does what he's supposed to, when he's supposed to and listens to what dad tells him. Compared to other kids his age, he supposes he probably has a weird relationship with his dad. The guidance counsellor probably doesn't see being congratulated on killing a werewolf with a beer as good parenting, but it's the only parenting Dean knows. "Yeah. I guess."

"What about with Sam?"

"Huh?"

"What's your relationship with your brother like?" She scribbles something else, and then smiles. "It must be pretty good for you to stand up for him."

Dean shrugs, smiles. "It's okay. He's as annoying as any kid brother, and twice as nerdy." He doesn't say that lately Sam's been pushing him away more than usual, or that the arguments that have started between Sam and their dad are slowly pulling them apart.

"How does he feel about you picking fights?"

Dean hesitates. "He doesn't like 'em. But I've saved his ass too often for him to complain."

"Do you get into scrapes because of Sam a lot?"

He shrugs half-heartedly. "Someone has to."

"Doesn't you father get involved in combating bullying?"

"Dad doesn't do so good with that side of parenting."

"I see."

Wendy frowns a little, as if about to bring up a sensitive subject. After a small hesitation, she does exactly that. "Do you and your family ever talk about your mom?"

Dean is taken aback but keeps his expression neutral. "Not really. She died a long time ago." He wonders how she knows about that, but expects his mother's death is probably mentioned somewhere on his files. "It upsets my dad."

"How does that make you feel?"

"How does what make me feel?"

"Not being able to talk about your mother."

"I don't want to." He drops the laid back demeanour slightly. "I don't see how mom's death has anything to do with the fight yesterday. I thought this was like anger management or something. Dealing with my 'social issues' or whatever shrinks call 'em these days."

It's about the most Dean's said in one go, and the woman sitting opposite him blinks, realising she's touched on a nerve. She starts to notice how many walls and shields the boy in front of her has in place. "Okay. We won't talk about it."

"Good." He crosses his arms and stares at the floor.

"Dean, do you think you have 'social issues'?"

He looks up. "What?"

"You referred to this meeting as dealing with your social issues."

Dean shrugs. "Figure of speech. I can be social."

There's another pause. The guidance counsellor sighs slightly and crosses her legs, reading through the notes she's made. Dean looks at the clock and wishes he were elsewhere. This whole 'being open' thing sucks.

"You seem very protective of your brother."

"So?"

She doesn't bring up her analysis of Dean being dependent on defending his brother to avoid dealing with his own issues, or the fact that she's decided the parent figure of the Davies family needs a serious talking to. She purses her lips a little. "Have you ever thought of taking a step back, maybe?"

"What?"

"Your past records and recent reports from your teachers here say that your grades aren't what they could be, and that your attitude is too casual. They say you're a 'charming student with promise', but that you won't achieve unless you focus on your self for a while."

Dean sits forward in his seat, the smile gone. "You think I should sit back and watch my brother getting punched up outside the gym?"

"I didn't say-"

"Sam has nobody else." Dean half hisses the words, surprised at his own anger. "And yeah, maybe he should learn to hold his own, but until he does, I've got his back. I always have done. Understand?"

Wendy wasn't expecting such a speech from the sixteen year old. She can see the dependence on his sibling is tied to a responsibility that means it works both ways – without Dean, the younger brother and father would rip each other apart. Without Sam, Dean wouldn't have a purpose. Family ties are all he's got. She writes something down, and glances up as he glowers at the ground. Dean mumbles something that might be an apology, but he doesn't seem the type.

Before she can say anything else, the bell to signify the end of lunch shatters the silence and Dean is up and out of the door, swinging his bag onto his shoulder. She watches him go.

Dean waits outside the school gates until Sam appears in the sea made up of the seventh grade, his head down and shoulders hunched. Dean grins at him, steers him out of the flow of kids and towards the sidewalk. "How was school?"

Sam shrugs. "S'okay."

"Get your grades back on that trig test?"

"Yeah."

Dean automatically goes to put his arm around Sam's shoulders, then remembers his brother is too cool for that now and settles for walking close instead. "Get any shit at lunch?"

"No. I think Kyle's too busy getting sympathy for his smashed up face. Ed's limping around like a shot dog too, whining about how you jumped them."

"Don't exaggerate. I hardly touched them."

Sam smiles slightly. "Ed's saying you went at them like a psychopath, apparently."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Sammy." Dean decides to ignore his brother's newfound coolness and throws an arm around his shoulders anyway.

From the staff parking lot, Wendy watches them wait on the sidewalk together and decides that maybe, Dean needs little guidance at all.

Been too long. *stretches fanfic muscles*
I know very little about how counselling sessions are run, so this is probably far off. But... it worked for what I wanted. As usual, nothing is mine except the guidance counsellor and the idea, although I'm sure even that has been done before. Not sure about the ending or the title, but meh. It is what it is.