Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

"Did I do something wrong, Mrs. Prescott?"

"Of course not, Sam. I just wanted to introduce you to someone."

"Really? Who?"

"Could you follow me, please?"

"Uh, sure… But my next class… I have a test…"

"Don't worry about that. I'll speak with your teacher and have it rescheduled."

"Oh, okay…"

Sam followed his teacher but stopped short when he realized where he was being taken: The guidance office.

"Come now, Sam. It won't be that bad." She backtracked to his side, took hold of his shoulders gently, and guided him into the office. "Just wait in here, and Mrs. Noble will be in to talk to you in a moment."

"What for?"

She just smiled pityingly again and walked away. Sam's hands were sweating now. Something was wrong, and he was pretty sure it involved him or his family. Was Dean hurt? Did something happen to his father?

He could hear his teacher talking to someone just outside of the room. He only caught certain words like back, abuse, brother, and father. Nope… definitely not good.

The guidance counselor walked in a few moments later, gently shutting the door behind herself and making Sam feel caged and on edge. He skirted around the office, keeping his back to the wall until the woman turned back to him and asked him to take a seat.

"Sam, would you mind explaining to me what happened to your back?" Wow. Direct and to the point. No skating the issue with this lady.

"Wha-what do you mean? There's… There's nothin' wrong with my back," he stuttered, never a fan of lying to people. Dean was always better at it. He wished his brother was here now.

"Hunny, your teacher, Mrs. Prescott, saw you react in pain when a friend of yours touched your back, and she has expressed concerns about you before. She said she has noticed you in pain a lot lately… One day it was your ankle, a few days later and you were wearing long-sleeved shirts when it was eighty-five degrees outside, and now your back… So I'm going to ask you again, what happened, Sam? You're safe here. Nothing you tell me leaves this room."

He remembered each injury very well. His ankle had been a lasting effect from the hunt against the black dog before they arrived in this town. It had clawed cruelly into his shin, tripping him as he ran and straining his ankle. The long-sleeved shirt was due to a particularly vigorous training session with his brother who had pinned him to the ground and accidentally left a hand-shaped bruise on his arm for which he apologized profusely all through the next week. He hadn't realized he had been so obvious about them in Prescott's class. No one else had said anything before.

Sam shook his head vehemently, trying to convince her that he was okay. He was terrified she would call his dad who would be disappointed that he couldn't hide his injuries as well as the rest of his family could, or even worse, call child services on him. He began to nervously rattle off excuses to get her to let him leave.

"I'm alright, honest. It barely hurts anymore. It was just an accident. Besides, Dean was way worse off…" Before the words had fully left his mouth, Sam's eyes widened in shock and he clapped both hands over his mouth. He knew he wasn't supposed to say that. He wasn't supposed to ever mention their injuries received while "on the job".

"Dean? I'm assuming you're referring to your brother? What do you mean Dean was worse off?" Sam began to panic. Now he was going to get his brother in trouble too.

"Nothin'! Forget I said anything. I must just be really tired or something…"

"Sam, please tell me what happened. If someone is hurting you or your brother, we can get you help."

"No one is hurting us! It was just an accident! I tripped and fell down the stairs at my house yesterday."

"And… what? Your brother did the same thing?"

"What? Oh, no… He… uh… ran to the bottom and tried to catch me. I knocked him backwards into the glass-covered coffee table and it shattered."

"Why don't we get your brother down here and we can all have a talk? Unless you don't want him here for some reason…?"

Sam instantly knew what she was getting at and it infuriated him. Dean would never lay a hand on Sam unless it was to help or protect him. To make sure she understood this, he shook his head no and said, "I've got no problem with him being here."

"Alright then. Sam, you just wait right here and I'll have the front desk call him down, okay?"

Sam could only nod. He felt tears welling in his eyes and his throat was closing up. Dean was going to be pissed, but Sam didn't know yet if it would be directed towards himself or this meddling woman.

Dean, completely unaware of his brother's situation, was pretending to take notes in his English class, but was actually doodling goofy pictures of his teacher. He was only half listening to the room's loudspeaker as it broke into his teacher's ramblings.

"Excuse me, Mr. Anderson?"

"Yes?"

"Could you please send Dean Winchester to the guidance office?" Oh come on! What now?!

"He's on his way."

"Thank you."

"Dean, off you go."

Great… What did I do this time?

Dean slid carefully out of his chair and headed towards the office, running the past few days through his head to find out what he might be in trouble for. He knocked on the main office door and stuck his head in. The secretary looked up and beckoned him in.

"Hi, uh… You called… Sammy?" Dean noticed his brother sitting in one of the guidance rooms off to his left and sent him a questioning look. The fear in his brother's eyes made his hackles rise and set him on alert.

"Ah! There you are, Dean. Come on in, Sweetie."

"What the hell is goin' on here? What are you doin' with my brother?" he demanded standing directly behind his brother's chair with a hand on his shoulder, not caring at all about his attitude towards the counselor. She didn't seem to care about his words, however, and instead was raking her eyes over his heavily clothed body, clearly scanning for any obvious injuries. Dean felt very insecure under her eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest, clearly portraying defiance.

"A teacher of Sam's has expressed concerns about him and his health."

"His health?" Sam could hear the concern in his brother's voice and tried to twist around to look him in the eye and explain that he was fine, but his back refused to twist that far and he was forced to hold in a grunt and stop his motions. Dean clamped a hand back onto his shoulder for stability and helped ease him back to facing front, never once breaking eye contact with the woman in front of him, clearly daring her to say another word.

"As you no doubt can clearly see, Sam seems to be in a good deal of pain. Do you have any idea what caused it?"

"I…"

"And I have also been informed that you may have injuries of your own."

"Okay, I can…"

"I don't want lies, Mr. Winchester. I've been told you are very good at concocting stories when needed, but if you are covering for someone, say your father… then now is the time to come clean."

"Don't you dare talk about my father like that! You know nothing about him!" Sam felt Dean's grip increase on his shoulder, but not enough to hurt. In fact, he was comforted by it, but he was afraid that if she said anything bad about their dad, he would have to try and stop his brother from throttling her.

She looked at them both with the same pity Sam saw in his teacher's eyes. Only then did she glimpse the bottle-shaped protrusion in Dean's jeans pocket.

"Dean, may I see that bottle in your pocket please?"

Not wanting to start something in front of his brother, he did as he was told and handed the bottle over, an excuse forming in his head as he moved.

"Pain killers? Who is this Burt Affromian?"

"My uncle."

"And why do you have them?"

"I'm supposed to drop them off at his house on the way home. He has a busted leg so I told him I'd pick up his pills for him."

Clearly, she was not convinced.

"I see… Sam, would you come with me for a moment?"

"He's not going anywhere alone with you," Dean threatened, walking around the chair to stand in front of his little brother.

"Hon, I can understand your protective nature towards your younger sibling, but if you really want to help him, just let him come with me for a few moments. It won't take long, I swear. If you make this more difficult than it has to be, I'll be forced to call in backup."

"Backup?" Dean sounded worried now, increasing Sam's fear as well.

"Yes. Child services. If you don't want that to happen, let me speak with Sam alone for a few minutes."

The room went silent as Dean thought over his options. After a few seconds, Sam looked to Dean for his answer who had no choice but to nod and step aside.

Swallowing harshly, Sam stood and followed the counselor into another room that upon further inspection appeared to be a small nurse's office. He looked questioningly at her as she followed him in and closed the door behind them.

"Sam, I want to see your back."

Sam paled to the point of feeling lightheaded. He swayed slightly but managed to stay upright.

"Why?"

"Because I need to make an assessment. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you'll be back with your brother."

Having seen so many abused children as a counselor, she had returned to college for medical classes, aiding her ability to decide whether a mark was made by child's play or a drunken father with a belt. It also gave her the right to examine injured children without the possibility of a lawsuit.

Sam stared at the ground, unable to meet her eyes anymore, and carefully slipped his shirt off, crossing his arms in front of himself for warmth and a little dignity. He kept his back to the wall.

"Now turn around, hunny. I promise I won't hurt you."

Wanting to get back to Dean, he did as he was told and faced towards the wall. He cringed when he felt her cold hands running along the length of his spine checking for damage. The skin was black and blue and inflamed in some places, but there didn't seem to be anything permanent.

"Can you hop up on the cot for me?"

Again, Sam did as he was told.

"Lie down on your stomach, hun. Raise your arms and relax your hands under your head."

Sam shivered as her cold hands once again skirted over his back. She pressed down in certain areas, checking for internal damage and broken bones. All she found was the bump on the back of his head.

She had him sit back up and used a pen light to check for a concussion. Finding none, she asked her last question.

"Alright. Is there any place else that hurts?"

Sam, keeping his eyes to the ground, shook his head no. Another perk of the job was being able to read people. She knew he wasn't lying to her about this, unlike his protective brother who seemed to do nothing but.

"Then you can put your shirt back on. This is your last chance to come clean, Sam. Did someone do this to you?" She spoke each word slowly and carefully as he pulled his shirt back on.

"My answer is still no. It's the truth! I fell down the stairs!"

"And your brother will be able to back up this story?"

Oh shit… "Of course, I told you he was the one who tried to help me."

"We'll find out in a minute. Now, if you'll follow me to the other office, I'll get Dean checked out and then I want to talk to you both."

She walked Sam briskly passed the office Dean was waiting in, but to Sam's dismay, the door was shut. Sam wanted to warn his brother not to go with her because Dean had many more years worth of scars and injuries than Sam did. If she saw them, she would be on the phone with child's services in seconds. When they reached the furthest office from the door, she sat him down.

"Wait right here, and I'll be back with your brother in a few minutes. Just sit tight." She left, closing the door behind her. He groaned and dropped his head in his hands. They were in deep shit now.

TBC

I don't know much about child services or how far a counselor can go when it comes to things like exams, but I'm using poetic license! I figured if she also had some medical training, it would be a bit more believable. I'm just winging it! How am I doing so far? Dean's up next…