A/N: So I am so sorry for the long wait in between updates. My computer died, taking along with it the completed chapters for this story. I found this chapter, finished, in my email but the others I will have to rewrite. Which is making me sad. So, if anyone is still reading, enjoy, and I'm working on it I promise. I don't own anything and reviews are always appreciated.

Chapter Three

Sam pulled Dean up, frantically patting him all over trying to find an injury. The sound Luke's body made when it hit the floor was a sickening wet plop. The boy's lifeless flesh continued to weep body fluids sluggishly all over the grey tile.

"Are you hit, Dean? God, I can't find it, I can't find it! There's too much blood! Where's the entry point?" Sam's voice was climbing higher as his hysteria grew.

"It's okay, Sammy. It's not mine." Dean pulled himself the rest of the way off of the floor, ignoring the cries, retching, and screaming of the others. His entire focus was on Sammy.

"It's okay, little brother," he repeated softly gripping Sam's shoulder. Green eyes stared into green eyes as Sam's agitated breathing slowly returned to normal.

"It's not mine," Dean repeated.

"Okay," Sam murmured. "Okay, okay, not yours."

Needing a moment to pull himself together, Dean turned and grabbed a coat. After a moment, he turned back and placed the coat over the empty space where Luke's face had been. Sammy didn't need to see it anymore, nor did the rest of the students, for that matter. They needed to focus on staying alive. The grisly sight taken care of, he made a dash for the sink at the back of the room, tore off a fist full of paper towels, and then ducked back down to the floor, where the shooters wouldn't be able to see him.

He made quick work of wiping his face clean of Luke's blood and gore. When he pulled a chunk of bone from his hair, he tried not to think about it too much. That gruesome task accomplished, it was now time to marshal the civilians, maybe do a little recon, and get the hell out of Dodge, before any more of his classmates got themselves taken out. He also needed to find a way to contact his dad; John Winchester would know what to do. He wouldn't lose any more innocent bystanders, and he sure as hell would eliminate the threat to Sammy!

He crab-crawled back to where the majority of the kids were huddled. Shock was setting in; he could read it on their faces. Some were crying, some were praying, some were just still and entirely too quiet. He imagined none of them had been exposed to this level of violence before outside of video games. At least the screaming had stopped -and the puking, too, because being enclosed with the smell of blood and vomit was really gonna suck.

"We need a plan."

Sam looked at him, eyes trusting, awaiting orders. Dean swallowed and plunged on.

"Windows are out, 'cause these guys are obviously trained shooters. The best bet to get the most accurate angle is the roof of the gym, so that's probably where the shooter is. And that means if we can get to the other side of the school, we can exit behind the science lab and make a run for the woods." He paused to make sure the others were looking at him, hearing him, because he intended to get everyone out.

"We know there are at least eight guys loose inside the school. We need to go slowly and carefully, try and avoid them, and get to the science lab." Some kids were nodding, and even the teacher looked ready to give over command.

"I'll take point. Sam, you're on backup. We'll clear an area, give the okay, and then you move in small groups as quietly as you can."

"If we say stop, you stop! If we say go, you go." Sam offered his two cents with the absolute efficiency of a tried-and-true Winchester.

"Absolutely," Dean affirmed. "Sam, you take the gun, I'll take the knife."

"But," Sam objected, "you're the better shot. You take the gun."

Dean thought about their small cache of weapons, limited as they were. "Nah… you take the gun, no need for you to get close. Just make your shots count."

"But-" Sam tried again.

"Don't hesitate, only engage if you have to. If you have to shoot, aim for the head or heart."

Sam huffed and bit his bottom lip. "I know how to strategize, Dean. But these aren't freaks of the week, they're people!"

"We've already seen they're willing to kill innocent kids they don't even know." Dean was hesitant to remind Sam they were apparently gunning for him. "If it's you or them, Sammy…" He let the sentence hang, silently willing his brother to understand. Dean also planned to avoid putting his brother in that situation. He was good at taking targets down, excellent in hand-to-hand, even by John Winchester standards. But if something got past him, he needed to know Sammy would make the right call.

"Yeah, okay, Dean," muttered Sammy, as he palmed the gun and slid over the knife.

"Hey," asked one of the students. Dean thought his name was Tom or Steve or some shit like that. "Can we have weapons too?"

"Sorry, dude," Dean answered, letting his lips lift into a smile. "Me and Sammy here, we're the best weapons you got."

"It's gotten awfully quiet out there," mused Mr. Sternhull. "Maybe they've left?"

"No," answered Sammy. "They're too organized, too professional. They have a mission, a primary objective." Sam paused and looked over at Dean for agreement. "You don't cut tail and run when you have a job to do," he continued.

"So, if it's gotten quieter out there and they didn't find what they were looking for…"

"Two-man sweep," answered Dean and Sam simultaneously.

"It means," clarified Dean, "they'll be doing a room-by-room check, probably in teams of two."

The teacher looked at him. "How do you know that?" he asked, frowning.

Dean shrugged and said, "It's what I would do."

"Which means we need to move now, sooner rather than later," said Sam, already rising from his half-crouch to shuffle closer to the door.

Dean followed right behind Sam, holding a hand up to indicate the rest of the group should stay where they were. He put an ear to the door.

"Do you hear that?" whispered Dean.

"Yeah," answered Sammy. He started to rise to check through the glass pane in the door what was happening in the hallway, but Dean grabbed the back of his shirt and roughly pulled him down.

"Let me look first." Memories of Luke's exploded head at the last unchecked window made the bile in Dean's stomach rise and scratch at the back of this throat. ["tease" sounds too positive.] Sammy grudgingly acquiesced, but Dean heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like, "because you're so expendable."

Ignoring Sam, Dean peered through the corner of the window. He could see two men, expertly holding semi-automatics, several classrooms down, opening doors. He bit his lip. They were looking for them, Sammy specifically, and Dean knew he'd kill all of them before he let anything get to Sam.

The men were almost to the classroom. There wasn't much time to come up with a plan.

"Get back behind the desks and hide," he told the others. He was grateful to see them responding right away. "Sammy, there's two of them. Get into position over there in that corner, ready to cover me."

"What are you going to do, Dean?"

"I'm gonna see if I can get some answers."

Sammy opened his mouth to argue, but he never got the chance. At that moment they both saw the doorknob start to twist. The desk Dean had shoved up against prevented the door opening at first, but the intruder began to exert more pressure. Dean waited.

Come on, you asshole, he thought, I got some questions for you.

Slowly the door opened.