Charis-Kalos, thanks so much for taking the time to edit the latest chapter in your story. See I knew she was working on this week's sermon when I sent her the latest chapter and taunted her with temptation to blow off writing the sermon for this. But she finished her sermon first and then took the time to proof this. (grumble, grumble) Well, nobody's perfect, right?

Chapter Eleven: Shades of Things To Come

Sam rubbed a towel over his hair as he stepped out of the cramped motel bathroom. Dean sat on the edge of his bed, cramming the last of his fries in his face.

"Don't think I didn't notice you weren't wearing your sling today," Sam said, draping the towel around his shoulders. "Put it on after you shower."

Dean gave him a dirty look. "Okay, D-a-d," he said through a full mouth. After Sam walked toward his stuff, Dean stood up to head for the bathroom. He paused right outside the bathroom door. "When did you notice? In the principal's office or on the way home?"

Sam avoided his brother's eye as he dug through his clean clothes for something comfortable to wear. He shrugged, not wanting to admit it wasn't until after they worked out and were sitting in line at the drive-thru. If their positions had been reversed, Dean would have noticed immediately. When did Sam notice? When his ass was no longer in the frying pan and he had worked off his extra energy. Yeah, some brother he was.

After he heard the door close, Sam glanced back. Dean hadn't pressed him for an answer? No. He knew better than that. Dean rarely pressured Sam about anything, except getting along with Dad. Could he use that in the conclusion for his paper?

Dean showered quickly. Sam barely had time to dress before his brother stepped back out into their shared room. "Are you planning to narc on me?" he asked as he snagged a shirt from his side of the cheap motel dresser.

"Dean, I'm afraid your shoulder won't heal right unless you wear it," Sam insisted. "And Dad said it was an order. I can't believe you ignored Dad's order."

Dean grimaced at him. "I wore it all day, Sam."

Sam frowned as he eyed his brother suspiciously. "Then why weren't you wearing it at my school?"

A lop-sided grin was his only answer as Dean settled his arm in the sling. Sam's eyes widened with the realization. "In case you needed to beat up my principal? Dean!"

The amusement fell from Dean's face. "Dude, I never said that."

"You didn't have to!" Sam dropped down on his bed. "Well," he reflected, "the guy is an ass."

Dean's responding chuckle was exactly what Sam expected and needed to hear. "Man, is he. I'll bet he has 'personal' friends in CPS. They haven't given up on you yet, Sam. Just wait."

Sam groaned as he reached for his school bag. "Great. Exactly what I wanted to look forward to."

"So do we need to hit the library before Friday?" Dean asked him. Sam had no idea where Dean was going with this. "Dude, if you don't want a new book to read while I work, that's fine. You can sit at the bar and watch crappy sports news if you want."

"While you work?" Sam demanded. "You want me to go to work with you? Why?"

Dean shrugged as he settled back on his bed, pillows propped under his head. His eyes slipped shut as he replied, "Why not? You'd rather sit around here by yourself?"

Sam very nearly answered that yes, he would, but he caught himself in time. If he went with Dean, he could make sure his brother wore the sling at work. Yeah, this could work out pretty damn well.

"And be sure you get those historical facts right in your paper..." Dean yawned broadly. "Or you'll make me look bad."

Sam glared until he could tell from his brother's breathing that Dean was asleep. He shook his head, still not quite believing the mess they were in, as he flipped to a new spot in his notebook to start his history project.

Justin smiled at the girl who worked in the front office. She was awfully plain with stringy hair, but he flirted with her anyway.

"Do you ever listen in?" he asked as he leaned in closer. Her cheeks flushed pink as she shook her head. What was her name again? Lauren? Laura? Lori? "Oh, come on, Lori," he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "I'll bet you hear some really juicy stuff, huh?"

She glanced around before giving him a quick grin and nod.

Justin propped his arm on her desk and rested his chin in his hand. "Like what? Or would you rather talk about it tonight at the movies?"

Her eyes went wide and round. "Movies? Tonight?"

Justin smiled again. Flattery worked so well with girls who weren't pretty. "I know," he continued, "you can tell me some stories at lunch today. You don't mind if I sit with you today, do you Lori?" He would rather not wait until tonight for information on Winchester if he could help it.

Her face lit up. "That'd be great! I sit along the wall near the auditorium."

Justin looked right in her eyes as he lied, "Yeah, I know. I'll see you at lunch." He winked before heading to class. He was already fifteen minutes late, but it would be worth it if Lori knew anything useful. Besides, it wasn't like he would be given detention anyway.

"Not yet, Dad." Dean's voice sounded firm and final. Damn it!

"Dean, if you told him, I should be there. To explain my side of it," John argued as he shoved aside his current research.

"No, Dad." Now it was that blasted patient and understanding voice. "I already explained everything. He's doing okay with it. Sammy just needs a little time to process. Then when you come home and everything is just like normal, he'll get it. I swear."

John threw his ballpoint at the wall, where it embedded in the cheap motel sheetrock. "Dean, he wasn't ready."

"Maybe," Dean replied. "But he already knew about the custody, Dad. It wasn't like I could put him off forever. You know how Sam is."

The pen stuck out into the room, an intrusion on an otherwise peaceful and uninterrupted wall. He sighed heavily, knowing the truth of Dean's statement. "Yeah, I guess," he grudgingly replied. "How'd he take it?"

"Better than I thought," Dean told him and John could hear the truthfulness of the statement. That, or it was wishful thinking on his part. "Honest, Dad, the crap he was coming up with on his own was much worse. He was driving both of us crazy with it."

John leaned back, running a hand over his unshaven face. Yeah, he should've seen this one coming. "Sounds like your brother," he admitted. "So now what?"

He heard Dean shrug. Really. He heard it. "Give us about a week. If you don't hear otherwise from me, come on home if your hunt is finished. How's it going?"

And Dean changed the subject. Really, his son could be so frigging predictable - and so damned perfect for their family. He didn't deserve Dean. And he knew it.

"Not great," he admitted. "I thought I had this thing figured out, but it's not what I thought."

"Didn't you think it was a werewolf?" Dean asked. "What happened?"

"It's not a full moon, son," John told him. "And there was an attack last night. So now I'm hitting the books again."

"Want us to do some research on our end?" Dean offered. Damn, it was almost like the kid could read his mind.

"Yeah, actually, I would," he replied. "There's not much of a library in this backwater town. It'd be great if I had some kind of killing pattern to go by."

"Sure, Dad," his son responded instantly. "No problem. Sammy and I'll hit the library right after school tomorrow, unless his math team thing is meeting."

"Math team?" John demanded. "What math team?"

"Don't worry, Dad," Dean said with a chuckle. "We'll get the research done."

"Wait, Dean!" John practically shouted, fearing his son would hang up.

"Yes, sir?"

He chewed his bottom lip a moment as he composed himself. "What math team, Dean? I'd like to know."

"They call it being a mathlete. I swear, Dad, I'm expecting pocket protectors to be required. Kids from other schools compete in math, of all frigging things." Dean let out a good chuckle. "Hell, I thought it'd look good to let him be on a school team, so I signed the permission slip. Really didn't think you'd have a problem with it?"

"No," John said on a sigh. "I don't. You know I don't. But Dean?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I don't know that you'll be able to stay there until school lets out," John warned.

"I know, Dad. I'm just tired of making sure every frigging school puts Sam in the right classes. That last school wasted two weeks while they verified his transcripts and Sam sat with kids who couldn't spell their own damn names." Dean grunted into the phone. "It'd be nice not to have to worry about that kind of crap until fall."

John groaned at the request. Yes, he knew. He did. He listened to Dean, even when his son didn't think he did. "I can't make any promises, Dean. But if they try to take Sammy..."

"We'll be in the next state before they figure out we left," Dean promised in a stern voice. John could believe that voice, it had never lied and never let him down.

"Okay, son," he said gently. "I'll see you in about a week."

"Okay, Dad," Dean replied. "Be careful."

"I will, and you keep that damn sling on!" John hung up before Dean could reply. No way his son could ignore or try to weasel out of the order now.

Damien Jones stared at the phone on his desk trying to decide if he wanted to call his friend Grant with CPS. On the one hand he really wanted to know if Dean Winchester had a job, but on the other hand he did not want to do anything to spook Sam again. Calling Carol in had clearly been a horrible idea.

While he contemplated his options the phone rang, startling him so bad he jumped in his chair. With a shaking hand, Damien picked up the receiver. "H-hello?" he stuttered.

"Jonesy!" Grant's normally stoic voice was unusually upbeat. "I have some news for you!"

"The brother has a job," he replied woodenly.

"How'd you know?" Grant demanded, but before Damien could answer, his old friend cut him off. "It's Billy's Bar and Grill. I gave them a call and spoke with Winchester's supervisor, said this was a routine inquiry since the brother has only had custody for a few years. When they left your office the other morning, after giving you copies of the custody paperwork, Winchester took his brother to work with him. In a bar."

Damien mulled it over. "Are you saying you have cause now? For an investigation?"

"Maybe," Grant replied. "I'm having our legal department go over the custody paperwork now. Taking a minor into a bar is not the most responsible action, but considering it was either that or leave him in a motel room by himself for the day after fighting in class, I'm not sure a judge will consider it an issue. However when we combine that with fighting during class and the mysterious bruises on his arms, I'm pretty confident I can get a formal case opened."

"What if..." Damien could not believe he was about to suggest an alternative. "What if the bruises are related to Sam's fighting, not to the brother or father?"

Grant's groan was loud through the phone. "Playing Devil's Advocate now, Damien? Okay, let's say that's true. First of all, any kid acting out like that, during class, has issues at home; I don't care how you sugarcoat it. Secondly, I read the teacher's eyewitness report. That boy has been trained to fight and personally, I'd like to know how and why. You're the one who started this!"

He sighed as he traced the outline of his deskpad. "Okay, Grant. But I want you to meet them in person, not just read the reports. I really thought the brother was physically abusing him, but now I'm not so sure. You need to see them together."

"It could be the father," Grant replied. "Wasn't that the original reason you called, because you thought Sam was a victim of neglect?"

"I can set it up for today after school," Damien challenged. "What do you say? Can you make it?"

"Sure," Grant said. "I'd like to meet these kids. By then legal should be done with our copies of the custody paperwork and I'll have a better idea of the agency's position on them. Will they know I'm coming?"

"No way," Damien replied. "They'd probably bolt. Sam has after-school detention in my office everyday this week. I'll just invite the brother to join us today. I'm sure he'd prefer it to sitting in the parking lot." Plus he knew Dean Winchester did not trust him at all and was liable to show up uninvited anyway.

"All right," Grant agreed. "I'll see you right after school. Dinner?"

"You bet," Damien agreed with a smile. "It'll be good to see you and your expense account."

"Ha-ha. Later."

"See ya, Grant," Damien said before hanging up.

Okay, one quick phone call to Winchester and it would all be set. As expected, the older brother jumped at the opportunity to sit in on Sam's detention. Now all he had to do was get through the rest of the day.

Dean slipped his cell back into his pocket before grabbing a tray of drinks for a customer. Sam's principal wanted him to join Sam for detention? Was he supposed to suffer like Sam or observe Sam suffering? Well, either way Dean would take the man up on it. At least this way he would be able to keep an eye on things and make sure that whacko principal didn't try to pull a fast one.

The rest of the day passed interminably slowly. Dean kept one eye on the clock, his mind churning with different scenarios of what might happen this afternoon. The closer it came to quitting time, the more certain Dean felt this Jones character was up to something. Well, if it was really bad, they could always make it out to the car and hit the road. He would have to gas up on the way to Sammy's school, just to play it safe.

While he filled up the Impala, Dean decided not to wear his sling into the school. Yeah, it would tick Sammy off, but he didn't want the stupid thing hindering him if he needed both arms. Technically it wasn't disobeying orders either, because he would only be taking it off for Sam's detention. He could even take it with him... Nope. The damn thing could wait in the car.

With a mounting sense of dread, Dean approached Sam's school. This time the outer office was not empty, but they were expecting him. He was ushered into Jones' office. Sam's principal sat behind his huge freaking desk. The asshole was probably compensating for something. The thought brought a grin to his face he just couldn't lose.

"Dean?" Little brother walked in. "What's up?" His eyes darted between Dean and Jones.

Dean shrugged as he inclined his head slightly for Sam to sit next to him. "I was invited."

Sam's eyes widened as he sat slowly. "I swear, Dean, I haven't been fighting again."

Dean shrugged again. Honestly, he didn't much care as long as Sam didn't draw too much attention to himself. Or lose.