DISCLAIMER

Supernatural belongs to the WB, which will soon be the CW. I only own what you don't recognize. And I don't know what kind of music Sam listens to, so I'm takin' liberties.

The ride back was silent as Sam spent most of the time listening to his walkman. Dean and John glanced at each other.

"Well, I guess that didn't work, did it?" Dean queried with a sigh.

"No. It didn't," John agreed abruptly. He just---he didn't know what to do about Sammy. The boy was hurting and he didn't know why. And if he didn't know why, he couldn't help him. He couldn't make the pain go away. Meanwhile, Sam had cranked up the volume in his walkman so that Blue Suede Shoes was blaring in his ears.

"Hey, Sammy! Turn it down a notch," Dean requested. Sam did as he was requested. Hours later, they arrived back at the house they were currently calling home. The boys grabbed their duffels and headed for the door, where Dean used a key to get in. Once they were inside, Sam headed up to his room. Dean placed his duffel on the table and sighed.

"You okay?" John questioned.

"Yeah. Sammy sure packs quite a punch though," Dean answered.

"Take some advil and go to bed," John told him.

"Yes, Sir," Dean responded. He did as he was told. The next morning, Sam got up and gathered up his belongings.

"You want a ride?" Dean offered as he finished his plate. John merely read the paper.

"Sure. Why not?" Sam shrugged. He took a glass out of the cupboard, got himself some milk, and took a drink.

"Eat some breakfast, Sammy," John stated.

"But I'm not---yes, Sir," Sam responded, cutting off his protest at John's raised brow. He got himself some cereal and sat down. He ate quickly and then headed out to the car as Dean cleared the table.

"Dean, I want you to find out what's goin' on with Sam," John ordered.

"How do I do that?" Dean wondered, putting his plate in the sink.

"I don't care what you have to do. Just find out what's bothering him," John instructed.

"Yes, Sir," Dean answered. When he was finished cleaning his plate, he headed for the Impala. A few minutes later, they arrived at Kenston High. Sam opened the door and headed for the entrance.

"Hey, Sammy!" Chad shouted.

"Hey, man!" Sam greeted cheerfully.

"So, where were you the last few days? No one's seen you around," Chad stated.

"Went on a camping trip with my dad and brother," Sam answered.

"That musta been fun," Chad commented.

"Yeah, it was," Sam grinned. Dean watched as the two chatted. Then, he carefully pulled out of the parking lot and drove away. Sam had a fairly typical day. Going to class, trying to look normal, hoping to avoid Miss Thompson. In history, Sam decided to try for the back of the room. He was still able to take good notes. When the class was finally over, Sam grabbed his backpack and slipped out the door.

"Sammy?" Miss Thompson queried. However, he apparently hadn't heard her because he just continued on. Once he was out of the class, Sam laughed in relief. He had done it! For once, he had beaten Miss Thompson! She hadn't gotten her hands on him.

"Well, you look pleased," a girl noted.

"Yeah. Well, I guess I am," came the response.

"Why?" she asked.

"I can't explain it," Sam told her. Yes! I'm going to be able to actually enjoy the day! he thought happily. "Listen, you wanna go grab some lunch?" he invited.

"Sure," she grinned. The rest of the day went by in a happy blur. However, it all came crashing down as soon as the bell rang. Sam was just about to head down the halls when he heard her.

"Sammy! I'd like to see you!" Miss Thompson called. Sam froze and shook his head.

"No," he said. I was so close, he thought unhappily.

"Sammy?" Miss Thompson queried.

"My brother's waiting for me. I don't have time for you," Sam snapped. Without warning, she reared back a hand and struck him.

"Don't talk to me that way, Sammy," she scolded. "Now, come on. I haven't seen you in three days. Don't you want to party?" she continued, beginning to pull him towards her classroom.

"No," Sam said thickly. She shushed him as they went in. Then, she closed the door. Meanwhile, Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Come on, Sammy. Where are you?" he asked impatiently. I hope he's not trying to get back at me for being late, he thought to himself. He gave his brother a few more minutes, and then cut the Impala's engine and headed inside. Dean walked the halls, searching for his brother's familiar form.

"Hey. You're Dean, right?" a voice asked. He turned to see a girl around his brother's age.

"Yeah. He got any idea where he is?" he responded.

"He might be in the history room talking to Miss Thompson. They do that a lot," the girl answered.

"They do, huh?" Dean mused. That's strange. Really strange, he thought to himself. Then, "What room is that?" She told him and pointed in its direction. Then, Dean headed towards the room, noticing that the door was slightly ajar. As he approached, he heard what sounded like shaky sobs.

"No," a boy's voice said fearfully.

"Ssssshhhh. It's okay," an older woman's voice told him.

"But you said we wouldn't go this far again," the boy stated. His next sentence was one of groaning defeat, "You promised." Dean froze. He recognized the boy's voice. It was Sam.