Summary: 21 Jump Street xover! Sam and Dean's new school is being investigated by the undercover cops of Jump Street Chapel.

Disclaimer: Supernatural and 21 Jump Street are not mine.

"They're eating him alive. They're gonna' spit him back out soon," said Doug.

Tom shook his head. "They're pulling him apart with a fork. Then, they're gonna' put him in their mouth and chew on him."

"Then, they'll spit him out?"

"Then, they'll spit him out."

Doug shoved a fry in his mouth, his eyes flicking to the other table. Sam and Dean sat on one side and Harry on the other. They were telling him something. Sam was making wide hand gestures. Harry looked distinctly uncomfortable. "It's kind of funny to watch."

"Ioki's on our side."

"I know. It's just nice to see them chewing on someone else." He paused. "Not that we got chewed. We didn't."

Tom gave his milk baggy a particularly vicious poke with his fork. Four holes appeared and the milk squirted out and onto his fries. He ignored it. "No, we skipped chewing and went straight to being spit out."

Doug waved a fry at him. "The Mcquaid brothers do not get spit out. We just have setbacks."

"It looks like the Winchester brothers don't get spit out or have setbacks."

"Getting busted is gonna' be a big setback."

"We don't know it's them."

"Come on. They got 'Made for the Penitentiary' stamped on their forehead."

"Orange isn't their color."

"What are you, the fashion police? Hey! Where you going?" Doug picked up his food tray and followed Tom.

Tom smacked Harry on the back of the head with his milk bag, sending what was left onto his hair. "Move," he ordered. Without waiting for a reaction, he set his tray down and shoved the other boy aside.

Harry stumbled for a few feet before regaining his balance, only to have his backpack kicked to him by Doug.

"Keep moving," said Doug. He could practically feel the glare as Ioki walked away.

Dean leaned back in his chair. He lightly smacked Sam on the shoulder. "Look who came to see us."

Doug put on an entirely fake smile.

Dean examined his face and cringed. "Never mind, don't look."

"Funny," Doug growled.

Sam looked between them, uncertainly. "What do you want?"

Tom dug around his tray for a fry not dipped in milk. "Our table got boring."

"Wood does that. You should try to find the one that talks." Dean made a shooing gesture with his hands. "Go ahead and look. We'll wait here for you."

"You're a bundle of laughs," said Doug.

Tom wasn't paying attention to his fingers and stuffed a milk-drenched fry in his mouth. He cringed but swallowed it down. "Where'd you learn how to fight like that?" he asked Sam.

Sam exchanged a look with Dean before answering. "Dean taught me."

"Can you teach us?"

"What?" said Sam.

"What?" repeated Doug.

Tom brought his heel down on Doug's toes. "Can you teach us? What was it, anyway? Karate? Kickboxing?" He looked between Dean and Sam.

Dean smirked. "It was a little bit of everything."

"Hmm. Can you?"

Dean shrugged. "Why do you wanna learn? The freshman getting tougher every year?"

"They don't hit freshman," said Sam, suddenly. "You don't hit anyone, really. You just push people around. I think we're the first ones you fought with." There was small frown on his face.

"Well, yeah, people aren't crazy enough to go against - ." Doug turned to Tom.

They exclaimed in unison, "The Mcquaid Brothers! HA!"

Sam put a hand over his mouth to hide his twitching lips. Dean wasn't so polite. "What the hell is that?"

Doug looked slightly insulted. "It's our thing. You know, Mcquaid."

Dean smacked Sam on the shoulder again. They turned to each other and, at the same time, said, "The Winchester Brothers! HA!"

Sam burst out laughing.

Dean shook his head. "Nah, it still sounds like crap."

"Hey!"

Tom pushed his tray aside. "Well?"

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "You're volunteering to let us kick your ass?"

Doug glared. "We'll fight back.

Dean looked at him, then back at Tom. "Like I said, you're letting us kick your ass?"

"Is that a yes or no?"

Dean looked at Sam. Sam bit his lip. Dean shrugged. "Meet us at the baseball field tonight. Six-o-clock. Bring water and don't eat too much. We'll be there for a while."

Doug jerked his head at Sam. "He can stay out that late?"

"Our dad works nights." He mocked Tom's earlier words. "Is that a yes or no?"

"We'll be there," said Tom.

-------------------

"Hanson! Penhall! You want to tell me what the hell you were doing?"

It wasn't hard to guess what he was talking about with Harry sitting across from him with a slightly apologetic look. Apologetic or not, he wasn't taking the heat. Judy looked up from her work for a second, shook her head at the familiar scene, and looked back down.

Tom spun a chair around. He sat with his head resting on the back. "He wasn't getting anywhere captain. They were playing with him."

Doug took the seat beside him. "Ripping him apart with a fork," he agreed. Nevertheless, he nudged Tom. He wasn't sure what they were doing, either.

"What are you talking about?"

"He's not their type of person," said Tom. "They're pretenders, Captain. They made a whole new life. They let everyday people see what they want them to see. To them, Harry's normal. He's just someone else they'll lie to."

The Captain leaned against the desk. "You got a better idea?"

Tom nodded. "Yeah, it's fighting."

Doug elaborated, "They said they'll teach us how to fight. We're supposed to meet them tonight at the baseball field."

"It's the only real thing we got from them. I figure, we work from there, we'll get something else."

The Captain sighed. "Fighting, huh?"

"Yeah, volunteered to get our buts kicked," said Doug.

The Captain stood up. "Alright, but if they get too violent, I want you to pull out."

"I'll be the first one out of there, Captain."

Judy looked up again with a wry smile. "I hope you move fast. They're dad was a marine. He probably taught them a thing or two."

"Great."

The Captain took the file from her. "Vietnam… I can probably talk to a few people and get some more personal information. Ioki, stay on your toes. We don't know if these are our guys. Keep your eyes open and report anything suspicious."

"Why are we doing this?" asked Sam. They sat on the bleachers, an hour early. A trash bag filled with sandwiches and a six-pack of coke sat at their feet.

Dean took the food Sam passed him. "Come on, Sammy. Dad's not gonna' be back for at least a week. I'm bored."

"He's not gonna' like it."

"Since when do you care what he likes? Besides, it's training and I'd be trying to sneak you into a bar or something if we weren't doing this."

"You're that bored?"

"I'm that bored."

"What about the twins?"

"They can't go out on a school night."

Sam snorted.

"It's not funny. Pass me another one."

Sam shook his head. "Did you swallow it whole?" he asked, but tossed him another. "Go easy on 'em."

"Right back at you."

How is it? Review.