Hello everybody! Long time no see? Sorry for the extra wait, I hope you'll forgive me... Thank you for all the lovely reviews I'm about to go answer right now. Love you guys 3

Year Eleven:Sign My Yearbook?

Sam smiled and waved when he met Stanley's eye. "Hey, man!" Stanley called back, patting the seat next to him. "Saved you a seat!"

Sam slung his bag over his chair and sat down. "Do I even bother taking out my textbook?" He muttered as the bell rang and the class quieted down.

"I would say no, given the circumstances, but..."

"But?"

"It is Mrs. Vance, so-"

"Winchester!" The scratchy voice of a smoker cut through the classroom. Sam froze. "Just because it's the last day of school doesn't mean we're done learning!"

Sam sighed and grabbed his textbook from his bag. For the next hour he doodled in the margin of his notebook, occasionally jotting down a couple random facts.

The average kid would look at him and think he was just anxious for summer, but that would be totally and completely incorrect. Anxious? Yes. But for what would become of him when the 4:15 bell rang that afternoon. No more homework excuses. No more school to save him from all-day every day physical and mental labor on the job.

It was a blessing when the bell saved him from his thoughts. "And leave your textbooks with me when you walk out or you can expect a bill to your house!" Mrs. Vance was screeching. "And Sam Winchester? You're wanted in the office!"

Sam let out a puff of air and Stanley gave him a look. "Dude, do you even know where that is?" Sam shook his head. He'd been here for a month and the only office visit he'd made was on his first day. With a map.

"I'll walk you. It's not far." Stanley followed him out.

"Thanks," Sam replied. "I really appreciate it." Stanley was a thin kid. Tall and dark-skinned, he was Sam's only real friend at Drewmont.

"Would you believe this is my first last day?" Sam laughed nervously.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Dad always says it's not worth it and takes us out. We only stayed because he had... Some stuff to take care of."

Stanley's smile faltered. "So you're leaving."

Sam nodded, his hand on the office door. "Sorry."

"It's okay."

"Sign my yearbook?" Sam asked, holding it out with a sharpie.

"Sure," Stanley said. "But you should go in. I'll make sure it gets to you."

"Okay." Sam answered awkwardly. "Seeya."

"Seeya..."

Sam opened the door and stopped suddenly inside. "Dad..." John Winchester sat in a small chair opposite an administrator, speaking quietly. He barely looked up when Sam entered.

Sam sat in the corner and listened as much as he could.

"...Shouldn't be kissing... Closets... serious issue... Inappropriate and... Not to mention disrespectful!"

John whispered something and sat back, his familiar leather jacket crinkling.

"Well, Dean... Great... Sam... Lacks... Academic ambition." John nodded. "Now here... Previous grades... A look..."

Sam heard a small cough outside the door and glanced over just in time to see a sharpie come sliding under the door. He looked around to make sure no one was watching and snatched it up. Sam reached over and opened the door, seeing his yearbook on the ground, and walking out, careful to close the door gently.

He crouched down and grabbed it, opening it to see, sadly, the one lone message in Stanley's handwriting. He leaned against the wall and read:

"Sam,

We haven't known each other long, but we were pretty close. Maybe if you didn't have to leave all us losers for the Ultimate Road Trip we'd have become best buds. If we ever meet again, I'll be sure to introduce you to my ex-cheerleading bikini model wife-"

"Sam?" Sam closed his yearbook and looked up to see Dean sauntering up. "What're you doing here?"

"What're you doing here?" Sam countered. "This is the middle school side and Dad's talking about you in there!"

Dean ran his hand through his hair. "They called Dad? Damn, I'm in for it!"

"What did you do?"

"You know that really hot girl in my Spanish class?"

Sam scoffed. "No! Why would I know her?"

"Oh. Well, she has deep brown eyes, and the longest hair, and white teeth. Not to mention, some HUGE-"

"Dean!"

"F-feet."

Sam nodded with narrowed eyes. "Better."

"Well, a teacher might've caught us in the closet..."

Sam shook his head. "What did he say?"

"'Stewdents! Stewdents necking in the closet! They ah necking! Dean Winchestah! Out!'"

They both laughed. "The British guy?"

"One and only."

"At least he was fun to listen to, even if he tattled on your 'necking.'"

"No kidding. It was relaxing. 'Layke a rivah...'" They burst into laughter again.

"Dean," The administrator called to them seriously. "Sam can wait out here until your father is ready to leave."

Both boys looked crestfallen, Dean knowing he was about to be punished, Sam understanding he would never see his friend again. It was nice while it lasted, he thought.

He flipped through his yearbook until Dean and John came back out. John walked angrily ahead of them, so Sam fell in step with his brother.

"Is he mad?" Sam asked.

Dean looked down at him and winked. "Nothin' I can't handle, Sammy." He smiled and Sam returned it with his own shy grin as Dean hooked his arm around his brother's shoulder.

I may not have many friends that stick around, Sam thought. But I have Dean. He's a brother and a friend. It can't get better than that. And he's never leaving.

He paused and Dean stopped too, watching Sam dig a pen out of his backpack. "What're you doing?"

Sam bit his lip and offered the yearbook to Dean. "Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

Sam gave him a toothy grin. "Sign my yearbook?"

I feel bad for missing a week so how about I make it up to you now? Year Twelve coming up in a few minutes! :)Thanks for reading!