Wow, sorry for updating so quickly! But I've been at home all day, so I've had the chance to write loads. I've already gotten the next two chapter written, but I won't post both today. Possibly the next one though. So, here's chapter six! And thanks to everyone who's reviewed, I appreciate and love it!

Darren finally gets what he deserves XD

Dean was at school early the next morning. As kids made their way into the school building or just passed by him, they cracked jokes about his sexuality, as they had been doing since the fight. Dean ignored them, keeping his eye out for Sam, which didn't really help with the jokes.

"Looking for your boyfriend Dean?" Darren grinned as he made it to school with only a few minutes before the bell went. Dean ignored him.
"Give it a rest Winchester. Sam ain't coming. Saw him on his way to school and dealt with him," Darren laughed. His friends, grouped around him, laughed as well in their creepy, vacuous way. Dean froze, then turned to Darren.
"What did you do?" He spoke with a low tone, one that made Darren laugh even harder.
"Jeez, you are so easy to get at! Calm down Winchester, before you hurt yourself," the kid chuckled.
Dean swore. In his head he kept repeating, over and over, that he shouldn't punch him. Couldn't. He couldn't do it or there'd be hell to pay. But the look on Darren's face was pure evil.
"You know, Sam's a wimp. Of all the guys here at school, you're into him? Then again I think every other guy here is straight..." Darren never had a chance to finish. A feral snarl erupted from Dean's throat, sounding like an angry cornered dog, and the teen leaped, tackling Darren to the ground. The kid never saw it coming, and was crushed.
Dean held back as best he could, knowing he could very easily kill the kid, and just punched him in the face. Once. He felt something shatter beneath his fist, and when he drew back blood was pouring from the kid's nose. Darren squealed, his tone high-pitched, and scrambled away as Dean stood up, a hand to his face.
"You broke my nose!" he squeaked.
"I could break a lot more than that, bitch. You should learn to shut your mouth," Dean said, his voice still in that low dangerous tone. This time Darren took him seriously. His friends pulled him to his feet and they ran inside, Darren still trying to staunch the flow of blood that was dripping down his face with alarming speed. Dean watched them go. His gaze so focused on watching the bastard disappear he almost missed the small figure making his into school. When he did see him, Dean instantly forgot about Darren and ran over.

"Sam!"
The kid ignored him, trying to walk faster to escape. Dean skidded to a stop in front of him, effectively blocking Sam's route.
"Sam, are you okay?" Dean asked, looking over his friend. He could see at least three new bruises on his arms, and the cap was still firmly on his head. Sam refused to answer or look up. Dean sighed.
"Look, give me your phone," he said eventually. Sam started, and looked up.
"What?"
"Give me your phone."
Sam looked confused for a moment. Then hurt crashed over him, and Dean swallowed. He knew what it sounded like, but he was going to prove him wrong. Sam, defeated, pulled out his phone and held it out. Dean grabbed it and immediately started punching in numbers. After a moment, he handed it back. Sam stared at it, before quickly grabbing it and shoving it into his pocket. Dean winced as he saw the thin scabbed lines over his wrists.
"If you need anything, call me, okay?" Dean said.
Sam frowned, confused. He looked up at Dean, his black eye clearly visible.
"I...I can't..." Sam trailed off, fighting inwardly with conflicting emotions.
"Look, I can't just sit back and let this guy walk all over you," Dean said. Sam flinched, and Dean wondered just what Jason had been doing to his stepson "Anytime you wanna come over, feel free to. You're welcome anytime."
Sam managed a small smile, then dropped his head. Dean smiled.
"My dad called Child Protection, so they're gonna help you anyway..."
He stopped when Sam's head shot up, horror and terror fighting for space on his face.
"What?" he asked in a strangled tone.
"My dad called..."
"I know what you said! Why?"
Dean was confused. What was wrong? Surely getting Sam out of that place was something he wanted!
"Why? To get you out of there!"
"Don't you think other people have tried?" Sam hissed, and a cold feeling washed over Dean.
"What do you mean?"
"People have called the authorities before. Mum's usually home and she tells them nothing's wrong and Jason never knows, but when he does, what do you think happens? He sends them off, tells them nothing's wrong, then what do you think happens?" Sam looked close to tears, his eye shining and not in a good way. Dean felt shock creep into him, dread locking on.
"He's gonna kill me Dean! He's gonna..." Sam stopped and ran. Dean watched him go, shock rooting him to the spot. He'd screwed up. Big time. He had to do something. But what was he supposed to do?

/\/\

Sam kept his eyes on his work as the teacher droned on about some great writer or something; he wasn't paying attention today. Not with the threat of the worst night of his life looming over him, and that wasn't an understatement.
"Sam?"
He looked up, realising he'd been asked a question by the way everyone in the class was looking at him. The teacher got a good look at his face and frowned.
"Sam, what happened to your face?"
"I fell down the stairs at home yesterday," he replied automatically. He'd done this so many times it came naturally now.
"Are you alright? Do you want to see the nurse?" the woman sounded concerned.
"I'm fine."
The teacher didn't look convinced but with nothing else to go on, she had no choice but to continue the lesson.

/\/\

"Dean Winchester?"
Dean looked to the door. Standing in the doorway was the school counsellor. He sighed.
"Yeah?"
"Please come with me," the woman said, smiling kindly.
Dean chuckled and stood up, "Sure sweetheart."
A low laugh spread throughout the class, and Dean headed out of the classroom and followed the woman down the empty hall.

As he entered the counsellor's office, the first thing Dean saw was his father, sat in one of the two chairs in front of the desk. His heart dropped.
"Please, sit down," the counsellor said with a smile. Dean flopped into the seat, not making any eye contact with his father.
"Now, I'm Melanie, and I'm the school counsellor. Earlier today a boy came to the nurse with a broken nose and blaming you, Dean," the blonde woman said. Dean shrugged.
"So?" he said as casually as he could "Is there a problem?"
"I'd like to know why, and I'm sure your father does too," Melanie prompted.
Dean leaned forward, "He pissed me off. Simple as that. He's lucky I didn't hit him every time he pisses me off; he'd have been in hospital once a week at least."
"What did he do?"
"Nothing in particular."

/\/\

After an hour talking to Melanie, Dean and his father were finally allowed to leave. Dean was suspended from school for a few days as punishment. John didn't speak as the pair headed for the Impala parked on the street out the front of the school. Driving home, Dean felt he had to say something.
"Dad..."
"I don't want to hear it. I know you've been pretty worked up lately, but that's no reason that punch someone in the face," John interrupted.
"Worked up? You don't know the half of it. I told Sam that you called the authorities, and now he's freaking out that his stepdad's gonna kill him!" Dean snapped, turning in his seat to face his father. John remained in his position, staring out the front window and keeping his eyes glued to the road.
"I'm sure he'll be fine," John said, a tinge of... something Dean couldn't figure out in his voice.
Dean sighed in disgust as the car pulled to a stop outside their flat. He got out and slammed the door shut, storming inside. John just sighed, and followed his son. He heard smashing coming from Dean's room, but he didn't go to intervene. Let him cool off, he figured would be the best course of action. Just let him calm down.

An hour later, the thuds and crashes stopped, and John thought it would be safe to enter. He opened the door quietly. His son was lying on his bed, exhausted and asleep. The room looked like a nuclear bomb had hit it. Not much had survived Dean's wrath. Anything and everything that was in room had been torn, shredded, broken or smashed to varying degrees. Even the walls hadn't escaped unharmed. The knife Dean usually kept under his pillow was on the floor under Dean's dangling hand, where he must have dropped it after stabbing at the walls and falling asleep. The white-painted walls had large holes in them were Dean had dug the knife in, and paint had been stripped away in some places.
The kid certainly has a temper John thought to himself, closing the door silently so as not to disturb his son.

What do you think? Suspense! Yayz! Anyway, r&r! Me loves reviews and appreciates them muchly. Indeed I do XD