AN: Preseries. I like Gregory, but I do have a tendency to get attached to my own OCs. It's the muse's fault, since she gives me so many details beyond what I actually need. (Layout of his office. Favorite authors. Color of his suit. Wife's name. Number and genders of his children and grandchildren. Seriously, it's absurd.) She's not sorry either. Ever.

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Gregory Trent stared out the window of his office, but he wasn't seeing the schoolyard. He was thinking.

The teacher who'd brought the situation to his attention would undoubtedly be surprised that he was putting so much thought into what kind of punishment to dole out. Of course, she was a lifer, born and raised in Carey, Louisiana, population 3,400. Whether or not she meant to, she saw two distinct parties. On one side were the boys she'd taught in Sunday school years before, and whose parents and grandparents she knew. On the other was the brash, rough outsider named Dean Winchester.

Unlike her, though, Gregory had been that outsider once. When his own kids had gone through the school system, there hadn't been a single teacher of color besides Gregory himself. It had taken him a very long time to be considered a local, and to win the community's respect.

And while he loved the little town, he retained a perspective that was a little different from the lifers.

Gregory always did his best to understand the kids that he had to discipline, so he was thinking through what exactly he knew about young Dean and his family.

Single father John, definitely blue collar, but nobody seemed to know exactly what he did for a living.

Dean, 16, bright but disrespectful, looked athletic but didn't play any sports. Popular with the girls and would probably become one of the popular kids if the family stayed long enough, but Gregory could tell they weren't about to put down roots.

Sam, 12, extremely smart, quiet, and respectful. Gregory didn't get across the parking lot to the middle school often enough to know more, so he hadn't yet decided if Sam was shy or reserved.

One piece of the puzzle that Gregory couldn't figure out was why all three Winchesters walked with a cautious awareness that reminded him of a soldier in a combat zone. Or a kid who grew up on streets where gangs ruled and police presence was a rare thing. Gregory shook his head. That was a facet he'd probably never figure out.

He did know that Sam was the glaring exception to Dean's keep-everyone-at-arm's-length rule. The boys shared an easy, rough affection, and didn't care who knew it. Us against the world mentality, Gregory thought, and wondered how often the family moved.

So today, Dean sat in an adjacent room, and juniors Jake, Johnny, and Buddy sat in another. The latter three had various bruises and split lips. Dean's only mark was bloody knuckles, and Gregory had the feeling that he could have done a whole lot more damage if he'd so chosen.

Gregory had talked to each boy separately. Jake and Johnny spun a tale of an unprovoked ambush. Buddy wasn't talking. Dean only said, "Looks to me like your boys fell down the stairs, Greg."

Gregory knew he didn't have the whole story and he wasn't willing to drop the hammer on Dean until he had it.

He's trouble, the same teacher had told him, shaking her head and pursing her lips. He's going to keep hurting people unless you put a stop to it right now. That whole drifter family is nothing but trouble.

And yet, there was something about them...

Gregory told the people watching the boys to send them all in. Once they were seated, Dean easily ignoring the glares from the other side of the room, Gregory leaned against his desk and folded his arms. "Some of you have lied to me and some of you have refused to say anything at all. Now I need the truth."

Jake, the loudmouth of the group, started to say something, then the main door to the office burst open and Sam Winchester ran in with Gregory's assistant desperately trying to stop him. "It's not Dean's fault," Sam yelled desperately. "I was -- he was -- " he had to stop to catch his breath.

Dean said something and Johnny was yelling and Ms. Meyer was trying to get Sam back out while Dean jumped up and looked his kid brother over.

"Quiet. Thank you, Ms. Meyer. Sam may stay. Dean, please sit down again and let Sam catch his breath. Johnny, I will tell you when I want to hear from you again." Gregory hadn't raised his voice, but cacophony stopped. Dean looked at the principal with something like respect for the first time.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean asked quietly. He didn't sit down until the younger boy nodded.

Gregory looked Sam over himself. The kid had a scrape on his chin that had bled onto his neck and a blossoming black eye. "You were there, Sam? Then I'd like to hear what happened."

Sam nodded, took a deep breath, and clasped his hands at the small of his back. When he spoke, his voice was calm and even, and Gregory had the distinct impression he was giving a debriefing. "Yes, sir. I always walk over to the high school after school because Dean's my ride. And these guys," he inclined his head toward the three musketeers, "wait for me just outside and say mean stuff about why we don't have a mom."

Dean looked like he wanted to get up and finish what he'd started at that revelation, but stilled at a glance from Gregory. The look on Dean's face was chilling.

Sam shot a glance at Buddy. "Not him so much. He just watches." Buddy dropped his eyes but the other two only looked defiant, confirming the opinion Gregory had of all three.

"So today, I was distracted and just ignored them and they didn't like that, so he tripped me," Sam raised a hand reflexively to his chin as he indicated Jake. "And he," pointing to Johnny, "said my mom was probably a dirty tramp who ran off."

Dean had murder on his face and Gregory was considering allowing him 5 more minutes with Sam's tormentors. Jake and Johnny both started to protest, but whatever was on Gregory's face stopped them cold.

"Go on, Sam," he said a lot more calmly than he felt.

"Um, well, that made me angry. And I, um, said some mean stuff back." Sam faltered for the first time.

"What did you say?" insisted Gregory.

"I said my mom might be d-dead, but at least she never won first prize in the swine division at the fair."

Dean smiled proudly and Gregory was hard pressed to keep his own amusement under wraps. In a battle of wits, Sam would have no problem besting the bullies.

"Then, uh, he punched me and knocked me down." Pointing to Jake again. "He grabbed my shirt to hit me again and that guy grabbed his arm." He pointed to Buddy this time. "Then Dean got there. He told me to run to the car and beat the cra -- uh, beat them up. And when he didn't come to the car, I came here to find him."

"It's all true," blurted Buddy suddenly. "Shut up, Jake. It is, and I should've stopped it long before it got to this." He looked at Sam. "Sorry, Sam. You're a tough kid." He looked at Dean, ignoring the sputtering of his cohorts. "Sorry, Dean. It won't happen again."

Dean was studying his little brother with a mixture of pride and concern. A muscle jumped in his jaw. "No, it won't."

In the end, Dean got a two day suspension for fighting. The other three got five days for instigating, fighting, and bullying.

Dean and Buddy unexpectedly became friends, and nobody attempted to touch Sam again.

Sam was allowed to join the 8th grade mathlete team even though he was only a 7th grader. In fact, his acceptance was what he'd been rushing to tell Dean the day the fight had happened. With him on the team, Carey Middle School won their first ever county championship.

And when, on his last day before moving away, Dean gave Gregory a chin tilt and a, "see ya around, Mr. Trent," it was one of the proudest days of his career.

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Lena: My brain is so full of plot bunnies, which is why there's no room for anything else! Yeah, they shouldn't hustle pool close to where they're investigating. And sometimes I can just release them as little one shots...but sometimes they grow soooooooo much bigger, as you know.

Scealai: Yummmmmmmmmmm

printandpolish: I'm glad you like these! It's fun to write from a different perspective.

immertreu: Oh no! Now you've got me thinking...and I have so many other stories I'm supposed to write...I may have to address your scenario though. Dangit.