A/N: Came up with this quick idea of Sam and Dean's first time going to separate schools and I simply could not wait until next week to share it with you all. This is a two-parter and I will be updating as soon as I can with the second half, but until then part one will hopefully tide you over. Feel free to review, criticize, and comment below with any corrections or questions. I am willing to take requests for future chapters of this fic collection! (hint hint nudge nudge) Have some coffee. Think about it. Gank some evil SOB's. Then get back to me. -R.

"Now, anybody hits you, you punch first and ask questions later. Got it?"
"Come on, Dean. Its third grade, not Fight Club."

Sam looked nervously from Bobby to Dean and then back again. His stomach jumped-and this time it wasn't because of Bobby's driving. The truck hit another shuddering bump and threw both boys half a foot in to the air.

"Damn speed bumps." Bobby growled under his breath. "We're late."

Dean glanced back at Sam. He seemed worried for some reason, and that was never good. Dean wasn't afraid of anything. Bobby's eyes met Sam's in the rearview mirror before the clanking truck turned into the school, a huge brick building that looked more like a jailhouse than anything else.

"Okay, kiddo. This is your stop."

The truck came to a shuddering halt on the curb, the brakes squealing in protest. Outside, people were already staring. Sam slid down in the backseat of the rusty pickup, avoiding the curious gazes of the kids gathered outside the front doors. This was not going to end well.

"Bobby, do I have to?"

Dean turned to Bobby. "We could skip out. We could show Sammy that game you taught me- the one with the rocks in the cups."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "You're not skippin' school to play Tiddlywinks with your brother. I told your Dad I'd take you two in and that's what I'm doing. Sam, get your bag."

The passenger door swung open with a squeal that could have broken plate glass. Everyone turned to look at the shuddering pickup truck and its three homely riders. Sam's stomach roiled dangerously as his feet hit the ground, and he felt himself blanch. Oh, God. Please don't let him throw up in front of all these people he would have to live with for the next three weeks. Or at least he hoped it would be three. Dad had promised that this time it would be short.

A hand was on his shoulder all of the sudden, making Sam practically jump out of his skin. It was Bobby, pulling him gently aside.

"C'mere, kid."

Sam knew Bobby wouldn't do anything embarrassing- not like the mom he now saw by a minivan a few feet away, who seemed to be trying to weld her kid's hair into submission as he squirmed desperately to get away from her. That diverted some of the other stranger's attention-for now, at least. But the fact still remained: he was going to be sick all over his new school shoes. Bobby kneeled down next to Sam, straightening the flipped collar of his denim jacket.

"What's going on with you today, Sam? Usually you're the first one out the door, but this morning I practically had to carry you outside. You barely touched your breakfast, and don't say it was because you didn't like it- I've seen you attack whole boxes of Lucky Charms."

Sam looked at his feet. Bobby sighed and looked back at the truck, where Dean was hanging out the window to try and hear what they were saying. The realization dawned on Bobby's face as he glanced back and forth between the two boys.

"This is the first time you've been out on your own, isn't it? Just you?"

Sam nodded, feeling vaguely guilty without knowing why.

"It's Dean. You're worried about him."

Sam looked up, startled. "What?"

Him, worry about Dean? Dean, with his fearless swagger and quick fists? Why would he worry about his older brother who wasn't afraid of anything, ever?

Bobby pressed on. "I'm worried too. He could get himself into a whole load of trouble without you to watch out for him."

Sam shot a doubtful glance at the truck, and caught Dean trying to look vague and unconcerned before he nearly fell out the window attempting to eavesdrop. Back to Bobby, who looked like he was more worried than either of the boys. He knew what was really going on.

"Bobby, what if-"

He held up a hand, butting in before Sam got too far. "Don't start that 'what if' crap. You're gonna do fine. Look at me, Sam."

When he didn't, Bobby shook him a little and brought his feet back to earth. "Look at me."

Their eyes locked, blue to brown, and Bobby clasped Sam's shoulder. "You're both going to be okay. I promise you. Its six hours. Just six hours, and I'll be waiting for you right at this spot. But until then, you have to show them what you've got. So, you are gonna draw yourself up like the man you are, march in there, and you aren't gonna let anybody give you trouble. You got it?"

Another unsure glance at the truck cab, where Dean was beginning to look desperate. The front of the school was starting to clear out now, and the bell would ring any minute. Sam took a breath, and then nodded.

"I got it." He affirmed. Bobby grinned.

"Okay. I'll see you at four. Try not to kill anybody before I get back."

Sam pulled his backpack up onto his shoulders and started to walk towards the doors. Before he grabbed the handle to go in, he turned around quickly to catch the boys before they left. Bobby leaned against the side of the truck, watching him go. Dean waved tentatively, holding up two fingers in their salute. Sam saluted back, and smiled a little in spite of himself. You're both going to be okay.For now, at least, he believed it.

Six hours. It was a start.

Sam grabbed the handle and yanked the door open. The kid whose mom had been aggressively combing his hair had managed to escape, and was frantically trying to scrub a lipstick mark from his cheek as he ran up to the double door entrance. His hair had rebelled again, and was sticking up in about seven different directions. Not watching where he was going, the kid smacked into Sam full force and went flying, books scattering everywhere.

"S-s-sorry." He stammered, trying to pull his jacket sleeve up as well as dive past Sam to grab a book before it hit the mud.

"It's okay. Want a hand?" Sam knelt to grab a folder still in the packaging, and handed it over. The poor guy was out of breath even as he looked back at his mom, who was still waving.

"Thanks. I'm Derek, by the way."

"I'm Sam."

"My mom was crazy this morning-it's like she thinks I'm leaving forever or something. Families, you know?"

Sam looked back at the rusty pickup that was pulling out on to the drive that seemed miles away and grinned. "Yeah, I know."

"You ready for this? They're gonna eat me alive. " Derek said matter-of factly, trying to smooth down the hair that puffed up even as he stuck it back where it belonged. Sam didn't doubt it, but he hauled the kid's books up in his arms and looked at him.

"Nah. We'll be okay. Just stick together, right?"

Derek looked surprised. "Yeah, okay. Together."

You're both gonna be okay. I promise you.

TBC