A/N Thank you to everybody who has been reading! I promise that things will start picking up here soon! I guess I should have warned you guys that this might be a longer fic. I mean, it is not that long, but its not a one-shot either. :)

Chapter Three

The figure loomed over his head and Sam blinked, trying to bring her into focus. She gasped, lurching back.

"Oh my—Sam, what happened?"

Sam squinted, throwing out his other hand to block her as she moved towards him. "Who…" he gurgled out.

There was a moment of silence and he dropped his arm back to his chest, trembling and unable to retain the defensive gesture.

"Rilla, Sam. It's me, Rilla."

Rilla. He had…Rilla played into this somehow, didn't she? Something about…a notebook? But no, they had burned that.

"Rilla," He gasped out.

Gentle hands lifted his chin, bracketing his face. "You're bleeding. Hang on, Sam, I'm going to call 911, just—"

"No!" Sam barked, crying out as it pulled something in his chest. "No, no. Get my brother. Get my dad."

"What? No, I'm calling 911. I'll find your family later, I promise."

"Them, get them. I need my family." Sam had to close his eyes, otherwise, he was going to throw up.

"No, Sam! I don't even know where you live. You need an ambulance, I'll find them as soon as I can, okay?"

"No!" Sam insisted, once again reaching out and bumping his arm against her shoulder. "I can walk, just…help me up. I'll show you where we live."

#

Rilla was twisting her braid around her fingers, apparently a nervous habit of hers, when Sam spotted her in the cafeteria on Monday. Crossing through the crowded room, Sam sat down next to her. Today had not gone well, he had gotten to school early to vainly try and convince the secretary that his grades had been put in wrong. Then his separate teachers but everyone had simply turned a blind eye and he was more than ready to be done with this complete fiasco.

"I just want to know what you know," he said, cutting to the chase as he pulled out his world history notebook, ready to take notes. She nodded, chewing on her lower lip thoughtfully.

"I want to beat Langton, I want to make him suffer," she growled under her breath, her hands tightening into fists and Sam nodded.

"I'm with you and we can do this," he assured her and she nodded, her fingers still twisted in her hair. "Now, just tell me everything, no detail is too small to be left out."

Rilla looked around the room again, her arms coming up to wrap around herself. Sam watched her, pencil poised above the paper, before sighing softly and digging through his lunch and ripping in half his sandwich with a brief smile.

"It's sometimes easier to talk about things if you have something else to concentrate on," he murmured, thinking of all the times after hard hunts or a bad day that Dean had pressed a cup of coffee onto him, or given him a pen to play with, or whatever else he had on hand. Rilla nodded shakily, picking at the bread without enthusiasm.

Sam patted her arm before picking up the pen again.

"Langton has been at the school for almost eight years. Even the teachers have stopped fighting him about it. He just sacks the ones who put up a fight, the ones who stand up for the kids. His kids, the ones who follow him will testify against any teacher. The others don't care because they don't have to do as much work and yet they look really good on paper." Rilla scowled, clearly dissatisfied.

Sam nodded, not surprised. He had been in enough schools to know the good ones from the bad ones and it hadn't taken him long to pick up on the fact that neither the students nor the teachers cared that much.

Rilla continued picking apart the bread, mashing the crumbs into dough balls but her voice was steady when she spoke. "I can't pay the money. My dad doesn't live with us right now and my mom has to work two jobs to keep us fed and have enough saved to send off to him. There are lots of kids like that. Most adults here also can't fight it because they don't have the means, time, or money to get lawyers involved.

"Those who have tried, Langton always seems to find a way to slip through their fingers. When I very first moved here, about a year ago, I tried to stand up to him but he just…he just treats me like some insignificant bug that he could squash at a moment's notice."

Rilla stopped and Sam looked up expectantly. A strange look was on her face and Sam waited, thinking dismally of his own encounters with the principal and all the F's sitting on his report card. Rilla shook her head, bringing herself back from whatever she had been thinking. "I have tried to speak with the police, to the mayor, to just about anybody that I could think of, but they have never taken me seriously. Not some little girl whose parents slave away to simply make a passable living." The bitterness was clear and Sam paused in his writing, glancing up once to make sure that she was still okay.

"So then I thought, why not try and get the whole school together, get the kids to unite and all of us to testify or something like that, but I couldn't get enough of them on my side. And the ones that I did, were scared. I mean, it was working at first, but Langton figured out what we were doing and he started to scare them off. One by one, he would bribe them away or threaten their families. And then school was just a great big ball of fun because everyone hated me. Everyone still avoids me like the plague," she huffed, shaking her head in disgust. "Now, I only come to school when my mom asks me to. Otherwise, it all sucks but that is what Langton does. He makes your life a living hell if you don't conform to his desires."

"It's not fun, being the outcast, is it?" Sam offered and she looked up at him, surprise written across her face.

"You? You don't seem like the kind of kid to be on the social edges."

Sam rolled the pencil in his fingers, debating with himself for a moment. "I've gone to more schools than anyone has a right to. Trust me, I know what it is like," he paused, debating his next words carefully. "And…and sometimes even at home, I feel alone, ya know? It's just me, my dad, and my brother, and they just—they think alike and they want the same things. I don't and sometimes that's hard."

This time it was Rilla who gave him a comforting smile. "To being outcasts, then." Raising what was left of her sandwich in a toast, she brandished it in Sam's direction and he raised his in return.

"To the outcasts," he echoed.

The lighthearted moment was broken when Rilla sat back. "What do you think we can do about Langton?"

Sam peered back down at the notebook, flipping back a page to look at a list that he had been brainstorming over the weekend and ticking off what Rilla had already tried. Scratching the back of his neck, he thought furiously.

"We could expand, go out of the state, and talk to…no." Getting the FBI involved was not an option. Dad would kill him. "Or what if we talked to some college kids, prelaw or journalism or something like that. There is a community college in the next town over, right? They would die to get something like this to put on their resumes or applications. They would go all in." Rilla didn't look convinced and Sam turned to face her. "Listen, if we have enough evidence then we are going to be able to force someone to hear us out at some point."

"I don't know," Rilla made a face but Sam was on a roll and plowed ahead.

"You said there are other kids who can't pay? Point them out to me and I'll talk to them. We'll get testimonies, I'll get other evidence. Laws, taxes, you know, that kind of thing. Then we just have to give it to somebody, the evidence will be undeniable."

"Do you really think that this will work? Cause he has defeated everybody who has tried before," Rilla said pointedly.

"Yeah, well, he hasn't tried us yet. You never know if something is going to work unless you try it."

"Yeah, I already have."

Sam rolled his eyes. "C'mon, believe in me a little. Trust me, okay?"

Rilla gave him a soft smile and then agreed to meet him after school before leaving Sam in the cafeteria feeling bolstered and even a little excited. This might actually be kind of fun.

#

It had been below zero that morning, which apparently was his brother's limit for moping and Dean had promised Sam a ride both to and from school. The last bell of the day had rung, and Sam was sitting on the stairs waiting, when Rilla rushed up to next to him.

"That kid over there," She leaned a hand on his shoulder, pointing towards a stocky blond kid who was aimlessly playing basketball. "I'm not sure of his name. I do know that he also hasn't paid, but he's going into his daddy's business, selling used cars I think, so he doesn't care that much. He comes because his parents won't accept anything less."

"Thanks," Sam made a mental note and followed Rilla's finger, which was aimed now at a skinny girl shivering just inside the door.

"That's Gracie Pool. Her parents refused, but they are here illegally, so there is not much legally that they can do. But she is furious, she wants a better life, just like we do. She still comes because she actually wants to learn.

"And…oh, over there is Steve! He comes because it's better than what is at home. I think being here is a relief for him, a place to escape. He may help if we ask, he dipped out pretty quick last time, but you never know."

Rilla's hand tightened on his shoulder as she indicated a heavy-set boy. Her voice darkened and Sam threw her a curious glance. "And there is Matthew. His sister, Annie, was here also but she graduated last year. I think she is working at Lisa's, that coffee shop down on main. Matthew and Annie did a lot to help us out last time, but then Annie got mugged by a bunch of the kids here, supposedly under Langton's directive. Their parents paid the fine just to get them off their back, but I know that they are still mad about it."

Sam nodded, leaning forward enough to see Matthew starting to walk down the street, his head hung.

The familiar rumble of the Impala caught his attention and Sam half-turned, still watching Matthew out of the corner of his eye, in time to see Dean pull into the parking lot.

Sam frowned, sitting up straighter.

Through the windshield, he could see that Dean had his phone pressed against his ear, but something was wrong, and he seemed to be shrinking in his seat.

There was only one person who could inspire such a reaction in the usually overly confident, untouchable Dean Winchester.

"And that there—"

Sam turned around, breaking Rilla off. "I hate to stop you, I really do, but I've got to go, my brother is here." Standing up, he swung his backpack over one shoulder and began to head down the steps. Dad could hold a grudge like nobody he knew, and when he thought his sons needed to improve on something…needed punishment? All hands were off the wheel. And Dean had just begun to get his feet back underneath him.

"Hey," Rilla ran to catch up with him, cutting him off. "Just one more, alright?"

Sam glanced towards the Impala and then back at Rilla's hopeful face.

"Make it quick," he insisted pointedly and Rilla nodded, pointing at a short girl with bangs. "Her name is Alice Walkman. She's been to Juvie once or twice. Crazy smart, though. She might actually have a chance if she tried to get good grades instead of hoarding her money for drugs."

"Alright, I'll start with those, thank you so much, Rilla. Really, I couldn't do this without—"

"Sam, what the hell are you doing? C'mon, I haven't got all day!" Dean popped open the door of the Impala, half-standing as he yelled. The phone was gone, but his face was devoid of any emotion except anger.

"Coming!" Sam quickly moved around Rilla, taking the last few steps two at a time. "See you tomorrow," he called over his shoulder.

Dean slammed his door loud enough to make a few other kids turn and stare and Sam grimaced as he slid into the passenger seat.

"Hey—" Sam began but Dean jerked the music louder, a clear signal to stop talking. They sat in heavy silence, Sam debating long and hard if he should bring up Dad. By the time they had pulled up to the motel room, Sam still hadn't gathered up the courage and he trailed in after Dean meekly, watching the hard emotions on his brother's face.

Plopping down on the edge of the bed closest to the heater, Sam watched as Dean threw himself down at the table, picking up a magazine and randomly flipping through the pages.

"Dad called, didn't he?" Sam ventured at last and watched as Dean stiffened.

"Yeah, says he's going to be another two weeks. The Skinwalker is dead," and here Dean had to pause, his fist clenching and Sam hated their father's guts all over again, "but Dad thinks that they have found something else, perhaps a vengeful spirit, close by so they aren't coming back soon. Told me to look for a job."

"Another one for parent of the year award, then," Sam muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes for good measure. Dean swore loudly, tossing the magazine aside before running a hand over his face.

"Shut up, I'm telling you just don't start on Dad, man."

Sam glowered at the heating unit but held his tongue for as long as he could before surging up onto his feet, the words spilling out.

"But who does he think he is? He dictates our lives, Dean. Our happiness! Do you know how messed up that is?"

"And who are you too, Sam? You're just a kid."

"I'm sixteen, almost seventeen, Dean, not a kid. And I don't need to be cuddled anymore. I know that what he has been doing has hurt you, I know how much that hunt meant to you."

Dean was suddenly standing, his fist clenching and unclenching. "Yeah, because it's all about me. You bitched the whole week before about how we were going to have to leave Victoria and your precious school—"

"—You loved it there, you didn't want to leave either—"

"—and about how hunting has ruined your life. Well, guess what, your wish has been granted, we aren't hunting right now, we are sitting in this crap motel, so why complain, huh? Nothing is good enough for you is it?"

Sam lurched forward, standing toe to toe with his brother. "Dean, Dad purposefully is making you suffer for something that wasn't your fault. Why do you think he took this hunt away from you to go with someone who has half of your experience, never mind brains? It certainly wasn't the smartest thing for him to do. In fact, I'd say that it was downright dumb."

"Sam—"

"No, Dean, I'm not done! How could you have guessed that the Prodigium was going to catch Kristi's scent instead of ours? Hell, I think Dad was more upset about almost not being able to kill it than the fact that she almost had her stomach ripped out. Dad's obsessed—"

Dean grabbed Sam by the lapels of his shirt, swinging him up against the wall and pressing him against it, breathing heavily. "You want to talk about obsessed, huh? How about you and school. You and normal. When has that ever saved a life? What we do helps people. I save people, alright? I save their lives and if they aren't thankful for that, then I don't know what else to do!" Dean was yelling in Sam's face, his fist tightening in his shirt, and then it clicked.

It wasn't just Dad, though that was a large part of it. Dean must have snuck in and visited Kristi in the hospital before they left and she…she clearly had had some choice words for him, or if not her then her mother or father. Probably had called him a freak, or something worse. Kristi, the girl who had made Dean's eyes light up whenever she was around.

"Dean," Sam dropped his voice as he forced himself to relax, trying for the life of him to take his emotions down a notch. "Kristi doesn't know everything about what we do, you know that, and if she can't see that you risked your life to save hers, then she's as dumb as an ox."

Dean snarled something under his breath, shoving his face closer to Sam's. "Right, like she would have been in any danger if I hadn't started hanging out with her as if she wouldn't have almost died if I had chosen to keep my distance. She would have been better off if she had never met us in the first place, so stow this—this—whatever it is you got going on. I don't want to hear it anymore."

"Mabey you need to," Sam tried hard to keep his voice calm, but it wasn't working and Dean was looming larger than life in front of him. "Kristi was wrong. Dad is wrong for treating you like this like you can be shoved aside just because something bad happened. Something bad happens all the time in our lives! But that doesn't mean that we should stop trying to live normal lives, hell, that's all I'm holding onto, man."

"Well, it's stupid. You're stupid for believing that there is going to be anything besides hunting in our lives, okay? So maybe grow a pair and start acting more like part of the family."

The words stung and Sam pushed Dean away forcefully. "You're being a bastard, right now, you know that? I'm trying to help you, man, I really am but you aren't letting me. Just, let me in, let me help."

"I don't need the help, dude, I'm just fine." Dean pushed right back, shoving his face up into Sam's and they stood there, nose to nose and breathing hard for a long minute, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Sam finally sighed, bracing his hands on his hips, and shaking his head as he looked away. "This is ridiculous. You're not going to listen to a word I'm saying, it's like talking to a brick wall. I'm going to the library." Turning, he gathered up his backpack and headed for the door.

Dean swore behind him and what sounded like the magazine was thrown against the wall.

Sam shut the door on his brother and trudged back through the snow and towards the middle of town. When he reached the end of the block, his hands started shaking and Sam bowed his head. That…that was not what he had meant to have happened. Damn it, why was he so bad at this?

All he wanted was to help Dean, to help him see that he was entitled to happiness and friends and, heaven forbid, a chance at normal. He just wanted his brother to live a long life, was that too much to ask?

Kicking at a chunk of snow, Sam blinked rapidly, trying to clear his eyes from the sudden tears that were threatening. He wasn't going to cry, that was stupid. He couldn't help but think bitterly that that was just another way he wasn't good enough for his family. Dean and Dad could suck it up, but Sam couldn't. He wondered dimly if Mary had been a crier as well, or if he would have been as different from her as from John and Dean.

Swiping a hand across his face, Sam's pace began to pick up until he was almost sprinting down the sidewalk, desperate to put some distance between himself and everything. Eventually, his sprint became a jog, and then a walk, and he ended up sitting on a swing at a park, dragging his feet through the thick snow, halfheartedly pushing off every now and then.

Fresh looking graffiti covered the bandstand in the middle of the park and Sam snorted. This crap town could almost represent his life.

"Sam?"

Sam looked up quickly, wiping a hand across his face when he saw Rilla standing there, a blanket wrapped around her instead of a coat. She was holding a steaming mug of something and he blinked, wondering if he had wandered into a Hallmark movie or something.

"I live across the street," Rilla jerked a thumb over her shoulder, indicating a rundown apartment building. "I thought I saw you out here and, well, it's cold outside so I brought you some tea, here—" She extended the mug and Sam took it hesitantly. Rilla gave him a smile and brushed the snow off the swing next to him.

"You okay?" she asked, and Sam scoffed.

"Peachy," he said after a moment before taking a quick sip of the tea and nearly scolding his tongue. Rilla opened her mouth, but Sam quickly cut her off. "Listen, I don't want to talk about it, okay? It's nothing. Tell me about more kids, tell me about which ones we need to watch out for."

Rilla didn't respond as she linked her arms around the chains, thinking. Sam didn't reject the silence as he stared blindly down at the snow, nursing the tea. It wasn't until Rilla turned to him, clearing her throat, that he looked up. Her face was serious and Sam straightened.

"Sam…are you—does your brother always treat you like that?"

The words caught Sam off guard and he blinked. "Like what?"

"Like, how he was yelling at you. I dunno. You were fine at school and now you aren't, and I just… wondered."

"Oh," Sam rubbed a hand over his face. "Oh, no. Dean doesn't—I mean. Look, Dean's just going through something at the moment and sometimes, well. Frustration sometimes comes out as anger, you know?"

Rilla didn't look reassured as she shifted uncomfortably, her voice tight. "That's not right. He doesn't have any right to treat you like that."

Sam sighed. "Look, it's complicated, but I'm fine. I promise you, I'm good and I'm ready to go out and fight Langton, so if we could just talk about that instead, that would be great."

"But how can you be okay with him treating you like that?" Rilla insisted and Sam closed his eyes.

"I just said that it is complicated, alright? And you haven't seen the best side of Dean, but I have."

"So? Just because he got his feelings hurt doesn't mean—"

"Rilla, you don't know anything, okay?" Sam dragged his heels in the dirt, getting ready to leave but Rilla threw out a hand to stop him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. I was just…I dunno, thinking out loud, something that my mother hates and keeps telling me to stop but as you can tell, it hasn't quite worked yet. Just ignore me. But, if you need to unload…I know that I don't know you that well, but you can talk to me. You told me that I can trust you and trust goes both ways."

Sam settled back, chewing on his lower lip and scratching at the back of his neck. Trust was a delicate thing with any friend that he had ever had. Lies were woven into everything with his family and he hated it. But it wasn't like he could talk about this at home either. "It's just…Dad moves us around a lot, you know? We are in a new town every few months and that's…that can be hard. However, in the last town we were in, Victoria, Dean really—he really just clicked with the people he worked with and he had some really good friends. People who looked out for him and cared about him, ya know? And his boss had this daughter named Kristi and her and Dean were, well, I don't know if dating is the right word but dating. And then—"

And then the Prodigium they had been hunting had caught the scent of Kristi on Dean, had followed it to her house instead of into Dad's trap. They had barely gotten there in time. In fact, they had broken down the doors to find its claws already in her body and they only barely managed to kill it before it killed all of them.

Sam didn't think that he would ever forget driving to the hospital, splattered in the guts of the Prodigium, as Dean cradled an unconscious Kristi next to him, tears on his face. John had stayed behind to burn the body but upon returning to the hospital, he had wasted no time in pulling Dean outside and ripping him a new one that had more thoroughly broken his brother than Sam had seen in a long time.

Like Dean could have possibly known that Kristi would show up mere minutes before they left for the hunt, hugging him and leaving her scent behind. Like Dean could have possibly guessed that the Prodigium wasn't just being slow about walking into their trap, but rather was hunting down Kristi. He ended with the furious mandate that if Dean wanted to hunt like he was ten again, then he most certainly wasn't ready to face off with the Skinwalker. He could just sit this one out and think about how he had messed up.

An hour later, John had them packed up and they left Victoria, driving all night and day until they had reached Springfield. Half of that trip had been spent by John calling around, looking for someone else to take up the hunt with him while Dean had sat, listening to every word. The weight of if Kristi was dead or alive surely weighing on him down as well.

It made Sam's stomach curl at the mere thought and he grimaced.

"And then—" Rilla prompted, and Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"And then things just went to shambles. My dad blamed some stuff on Dean, and we left pretty quickly afterward. Dean didn't even get to say good-bye to his friends." Not that Sam had gotten to say goodbye either, and he had really liked Victoria, but he was used to it. Besides, that wasn't his concern right now.

"So?"

"So yeah, I know that he is hurting and that he sometimes doesn't think things through, but I know that he's got my back and I'm proud of him." The words sparked a fondness in Sam, dispelling the ache that was sitting on his chest and Sam smiled. "No, no, I am. I really am. I'm proud of Dean."

Rilla didn't exactly look appeased but she stood up from the swing, wrapping the blanket more tightly around her.

"C'mon, I got the yearbook somewhere in my room. Besides, it's pretty cold and you're not wearing a coat." Rilla still sounded concerned but Sam shook his head, sipping the tea again.

"I'm fine, I've suffered through worse"

"Cool, well, you might be but after dark, this is a hot spot for drug deals to go down, I suggest coming inside anyway." There was a touch of nervousness in her voice now and Sam looked up, peering at the park with new eyes.

"Here?"

"It gets even weirder when you realize that this park is practically in the mayor's backyard, literally." She gestured towards a line of houses down the street and Sam frowned, taking another gulp.

"Really, though, my mom will kill me. I'm not supposed to be down here." Rilla motioned for him to get up and Sam finally pushed himself off the swing.

"What is with all the drugs in this town, anyway?" Sam asked and Rilla shrugged.

"I guess that is what you get when you have a bunch of kids who are stuck in a town, with no future because even the ones who get into college end up coming back just a semester or so later as dropouts. Drugs are just an easy alternative. And it sucks and I hate it." She took his arm, tugging him across the street.

When Sam got home just before nine, Dean was gone, and Sam could only assume that he was at the bars.

Sighing, Sam dropped his backpack on the bed and rubbed at his forehead tiredly, cursing out their father. Dads weren't supposed to make their sons hurt so much that they had to go drink away their problems.

That just wasn't right.