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!!

Dean heard Mrs. Prescott's footsteps on the stairs and hastily thrust his knife under his pillow.

"How's the unpacking going? You boys have enough drawer space for everything?"

"Yeah, we're good. Thanks."

"No problem. If you boys need anything, I'll be downstairs correcting papers. Oh, Dean? Could I speak with you for a moment?"

"'Bout what?"

"It might be easier to speak privately…"

"Whatever you've got to say to me, you can say in front of Sammy."

"As you wish. How old were you when your mother passed away?"

Dean squared his shoulders and tensed. Clearly, this was not a topic open to discussion. "Why do you care?"

"It could make a world of difference to your dad's case. I'm just trying to help."

A long awkward pause filled the room as Dean contemplated whether he should answer or not. Mrs. Prescott was getting very uncomfortable and wondered if she should just leave and try to broach the subject again some other time. Then Dean finally spoke.

"I was four."

Knowing how far apart the brothers were, she did a quick calculation and realized that Sam was less than a year old. He never got the chance to know his mother which was hard enough on a child, but to know and experience her love only to lose her must have been that much worse on Dean. His normal life was ripped out from underneath him, and he was clearly forced to take over in her absence. That's not fair on any kid.

Breathing in deeply to calm her sadness and urge to pull the brothers into a bear hug, she attempted to keep her voice level and pressed on.

"And might I ask how it happened?"

"Car crash."

"I'm very sorry for your loss."

"We don't need your pity, lady. We're fine. It was a long time ago. We're dealing with it, okay?"

Dean didn't speak another word for the rest of the day. Sam was quiet as well, but if asked a question, he would respond for himself and his brother. Dean just glared and walked away. Apparently she had hit a nerve without meaning to.

When she found an old episode of Law and Order on the TV, Sam crept down the stairs and joined her, sitting on the opposite couch. She didn't hear a peep from Dean, so she assumed he was upstairs sulking or sleeping.

"Is your brother okay, Sam?"

"He will be. Mom's a bit of a sensitive subject for him."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to reopen old wounds."

"It's not the first time it's happened." Sam was thinking about when he and Dean first met Bobby Singer and his dad had to explain what had happened. He heard since then that Dean hadn't spoken a word after his mom's death for a few months. It was Bobby that got him talking again. He wished they could stay at Bobby's instead of his teacher's house while his dad was under investigation.

Meanwhile, John was going frantic and refusing any and all hunts that were sent his way because he had bigger fish to fry. When all seemed hopeless and he couldn't stand the silence of the motel anymore, he turned to one of the few friends he had left and picked up his cell.

"Yello?"

"Bobby?"

"John? That you?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"You sound like hell. What's wrong?"

"They took my boys, Bobby. They took them both."

"What? What are you on about? Who took 'em? Where?"

"The school. You know how we were hunting those two wendigos last night?"

"Yeah… Damn it, John. What happened?"

"The boys got pretty banged up, but they chose to go to school today. I should have kept them home for another day or two, but Sammy had a quiz…"

"Where's this goin', Winchester? Where are the boys?"

"A teacher saw that Sam was hurt and then they called Dean down and found out he was too. They called child services on me cause they think I was abusing my boys!"

"Calm down. The boys are in the system?"

"No. The teacher offered to take them to her house instead. I've gotta get them back before somethin' happens, Bobby…"

"Do you know where this teacher lives?"

"Yeah. I set up the counselor to lead me right to her house. But I'm afraid if I screw this up, they'll be gone for good. I've checked on 'em a few times today, just passin' by, but I can't really tell anything from out on the street."

"I could go pick 'em up…"

"No, it wouldn't work. They won't let anyone remove them from her house until I've been cleared of charges. It'll just make matters worse, and I'm not supposed to know where she lives anyway."

"So what is it exactly you want me to do, John?"

"God, I dunno. I just… I need your help on this one, Bobby. I can't do it alone. I can't sit here and wait for their verdict."

"I'm on my way. For once in yer life, don't do anythin' stupid before I get there, alright?"

"I'll try damn hard. I can't screw this up."

"Got that right."

Back at the Prescott house, Sam's teacher noticed that the boy was starting to dose off on the couch. She flipped off the television and when Sam cracked an eye open, she told him it was time for bed.

"If you boys need anything, just let me know, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am. Night."

"Night, Sam."

Sam snuck up the stairs quietly in case his brother had fallen asleep. The room was too dark to see anything, so he called out softly. "Dean? You awake?"

As he took two more steps into the quiet room, he heard a muffled curse coming from behind the closed bathroom door. Only now did he realize the light framing the edges of the door. "Dean? You okay in there?" Sam walked briskly towards the door but stopped short in case he didn't want to see what was on the other side. Maybe Dean's lack of appetite wasn't agreeing with him. He settled for knocking.

"What?" came the clipped reply, slightly muffled by the door.

"Whatcha doin' in there, Dean?"

"Just give me a sec, Sammy…"

"You alright?"

"Argh, damn it!"

"Dean?"

"Wait your turn, Sam!"

Sam had had enough. He could tell his brother was in pain and no doubt hiding something. Please don't be naked… Sam pushed the door open to find Dean's back facing the mirror, craning his neck around and trying to re-stitch a few places on his lower back where the thread tore through his skin in his struggling earlier.

"Dean! Why didn't you just ask for help?!" Sam paled as he watched Dean's hands shaking badly from the awkward positioning and pain.

"I've got it, Sammy! Go to bed."

"Turn around, bro. Just let me do it." Sam pulled himself together. He'd done this many times before, and yet it still made him a bit queasy. He supposed he had to get used to that though with his family's line of work.

"I'm almost done anyway…"

"Dean. Come on."

"Fine! Make it quick before she decides to come up and check on us."

"Paranoid much?"

"Sam, us knowing how to patch our own wounds doesn't exactly reflect well on dad unless he is a doctor or in charge of boy scouts."

"Well he was a marine. Why shouldn't he have taught us a thing or two about first aid?"

"You don't get it, Sam. They're looking for any excuse to keep us away from him. Just hurry it up, okay?"

Sam had rarely heard that underlying hint of fear in his brother's voice. He was bordering on frantic, but as always, was desperately trying to hold himself together in front of his little brother.

Sam quickly took hold of the needle from his brother's bloodied finger tips, doused his own fingers in the alcohol Dean had poured into a cup, and set to work doing what he did best: patching up his family. It seemed as though every other week either Dean or their dad was in need of stitches or bandages.

On an especially deep poke, Dean grunted but kept his jaw locked to keep any sound from getting out.

"Sorry." Wanting to distract his brother from the pain, Sam asked a pretty obvious question. "So where did you get all this first aid stuff?"

"Some of it was in my bag from dad, and the alcohol was in the mirror cabinet." Dean immediately locked his jaw again as Sam slid the next stitch through. Five more stitches and he was good as new. "Not bad, Sammy. Thanks."

Dean picked up his discarded shirt and was reaching for the doorknob when Sam stopped him. "Not finished yet. Hold still…"

Sam used a washcloth dunked in alcohol to clear away the blood remnants and disinfect the wounds. Dean hissed and arched his back away from the rough cloth before forcing himself to still. Lastly, Sam taped on a new bandage from their dad's kit.

"Let me look at your shoulder too before you go to bed."

"My shoulder's fine, Sam."

"That why you've barely moved it all day?"

Dean glared at his brother but knew he couldn't deny it. It was really swollen and ached when a breeze touched it.

"Either you let me check it, or I'll ask Mr. Prescott to," Sam threatened, confusing Dean.

"What? Why? Wait, she's married?"

"Yeah, she's married… To a doctor. She mentioned it in class the other day."

"Crap."

"Got that right. So what's it gonna be, Dean?"

"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

"I learn from the best. Sit on the toilet. I can't reach you up there…"

Dean smirked. "That's what you get, Shorty."

Sam rolled his eyes and pointed at the toilet seat.

"Demanding much?" Dean sat down with a sigh. Sam tended to be more overbearing than his dad. While John was more of the 'suck it up' type, Sammy was the mother hen.

Sam eased the bandage off his brother's shoulder who winced as it tugged on the deep bruising.

"Jeez, Dean… This looks pretty bad."

Dean twisted to see the reflection of his shoulder in the mirror and grimaced. It certainly wasn't pretty. "It'll be fine, Sam. Just clean it out and throw a bandage over it."

Sam grumbled under his breath as he did what Dean told him to do. He knew Dean rarely gave consideration to his injuries and seemed to think he was invincible when it came to infections.

"Alright, dude. I'm goin' ta bed. See ya in the mornin'."

"Night, Dean." Sam had a feeling neither of them would be sleeping much in this new, unprotected place, but he'd at least pretend to give it a try. Surprisingly, he was out half an hour later. Dean lost his fight with consciousness about ten minutes after Sam, though not before he made sure his knife was where he had left it.

Only Mrs. Prescott remained awake, waiting for her husband to come home from a long day at work. She had an important question to ask the doctor concerning the boys and their injuries… especially Dean's old scars.

TBC

Sorry it's been slow, but I promise it'll pick up in the next chapter! Please review!! There will even be a bit of bondage for PADavis. You ask and you shall receive!