Sam grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door open with all his might. As the door swung toward him, Sam pivoted and stomped back toward his bed.

"Jerk!" he grumbled as he retreated

John saw the motel room door swing open and floored the gas pedal in an attempt to reach the building before the Aswang had a chance to capture Sam. But, as he neared the motel, John noticed that Sam had not actually approached the doorway. He could see Sam heading back toward the interior of the room.

"Oh, thank God," he muttered.

Dean had heard his father's truck accelerate and wondered whether they had arrived too late to save his brother. He dashed around the side of the motel just in time to see the truck stop mere inches from the front of the building. He saw the shadow of the Aswang sitting on the roof above the door to their room, so he hastily lifted his weapon and aimed at the creature.

At the same time, he saw his father exit the truck with his gun aimed at the Aswang. Dean knew that his father was close enough to severely injure the creature once he fired, and that all he would have to do would be to shoot the thing to finish it off. So he decided to refrain from shooting it until after his father fired.

But John did not fire.

The sound of the truck advancing on the motel room had finally roused Sam from his stupor and he had turned to investigate the approaching racket. The sight of his father's truck barreling toward him startled him and he had initially jumped backwards, fearful that the truck would ram the building. But, once the truck screeched to a halt, Sam had ventured out to find out what was going on.

Just as John was ready to fire on the Aswang, Sam stepped through the door. "Dad?" he queried, still somewhat groggy.

"SAM! GET BACK!" commanded his father.

Sam's sudden appearance at the door had diverted John's attention from the Aswang just long enough for him to lose both his concentration and his chance at shooting the creature. The Aswang knew it had been in grave danger and used this opportunity to escape. With a few potent thrusts of its gigantic wings, it was quickly out of range of the hunter below.

But it had made a serious error as it flew away from the motel; it had headed in the direction where Dean had concealed himself. Dean was able to fire at the creature as it neared him and the well-aimed shot had hit the Aswang squarely in the abdomen. But the distance had been too great for the rock-salt to penetrate the Aswang's skin and had simply wounded it again. With a deep growl, the Aswang flew off into the night.

The three Winchesters watched the creature soar away. Dean joined his father and brother in front of the motel room and waited for his father to provide him with new directives.

Instead, John walked towards Sam and embraced him gently. "Sam," he said as he took hold of the boy's shoulders and then drew himself back to gaze at him, "I'm glad you're okay."

Sam looked quizzically between his father and brother and responded, "Okay? Of course I'm okay. Dean's the idiot who forgot his keys."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

John had opted out of pursuing the Aswang again. It was almost 5 a.m. and the sun would begin to rise soon. As it was, people were beginning to awaken to start their day. John's flamboyant arrival at the motel had not gone unnoticed by some of the other patrons of the establishment and more than a few heads had popped out of various doors wondering what had caused all the commotion.

John didn't feel that the Aswang would risk preying on someone else with the encroaching daylight. And it would revert to its human form once the sun rose, so it would have little time to pursue another meal. But he also knew that its injuries would make it a much more lethal adversary when they picked up its trail that coming night. It was severely wounded and would be willing to take risks that it might otherwise not consider in order to obtain sustenance. But he'd worry about that later. Right now his family was his main priority.

All three Winchesters retired to the motel room to try to get at least a couple hours of sleep. Sam had climbed back into bed not bothering to inquire about the hunt and Dean had flung himself onto the bed without so much as removing his shoes; two nights without sleep had caught up with him and he drifted to sleep almost immediately. John had gone to the bathroom to inspect and cleanse his wounds before he, too, crawled exhausted into his bed.

At 7:45 a.m. Sam's alarm clock startled them all awake. Dean had automatically reached for the knife under his pillow and John had pulled his gun out and aimed it at the offensive object. Sam was the only one of the three who woke without feeling the need to protect himself. He took one look at both his father and his brother, shook his head and wandered into the bathroom to prepare for the day ahead.

After a couple of false starts, the Winchester men found themselves in the diner of the small motel eating breakfast. Injuries and lack of sleep had left the three of them completely worn out and they barely spoke except to order their meal.

After John finished eating and the waitress had come and topped up his coffee one more time, he leaned back in his seat and looked at his sons.

"Sam, I think you might want to stay home from school today," he began.

"Uh uh," replied Sam as he finished his last bite of toast. "No way, Dad."

John and Dean exchanged glances but neither spoke.

"I have to go to school," continued Sam. "Tomorrow will be worse if I don't go today."

"How's that?" questioned John, not fully understanding his son's train of thought.

"Because," answered Sam, "If I don't go, they'll think I'm afraid of Rick and I'll be the laughingstock of the whole school." He looked angrily at Dean as he added, "If I'm not already."

"Aww, Jeez, Sam," Dean shot back. He had hoped that Sam might have finally understood why he had stepped in to stop the fight, but apparently that wasn't the case. "Are you still on that?"

"Still on what?" interceded John.

"The little bastard is still pissed at me for not letting Rick beat on him," responded Dean, exasperation evident in his voice.

"That's because you said you'd stay out of it!" retorted Sam indignantly.

John slammed his fist down on the table, which succeeded in not only getting his sons' attention, but that of everyone else in the diner too. He glared at the two boys but refrained from speaking until it seemed that everyone else had returned to their own affairs.

"Sam," he said, staring fiercely at Dean as a warning to remain silent, "Why would you be the laughingstock of the school?"

"Because, he," continued Sam, glancing at his brother, "Came barreling into the fight between Rick and I."

"That's not fair," injected Dean irritably. His father's hand on his arm stopped him from adding anything else.

"Why did he do that?" queried John as he tightened his grip on Dean's arm, letting him know that he expected the answer to come from Sam.

"Because he's a jerk!" responded Sam, standing up to leave.

John grabbed Sam's uninjured arm with his free hand and used his hold on him to guide him back into his seat. Once he was seated, John glowered at the two boys and again asked Sam, "Why did Dean get involved in the fight?"

"Because he didn't think I could win."

"And why did he think that?" asked John forcefully.

"I dunno," shrugged Sam almost inaudibly.

"Yes…you do," stated John, making it very clear that he wanted Sam to explain why Dean had intervened.

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he answered. "Because it looked like I was losing."

"Looked like?" countered Dean, before he was silenced by a vicious glare from his father.

"And…were you?" asked John, intent on keeping control of the conversation.

"No," stated Sam emphatically.

"Oh…come on!" replied Dean, unable to believe what he had just heard.

"Dean," warned John through clenched teeth. "I'm not going to tell you again. Sam's talking. You'll have your chance in a minute." He turned his attention back to Sam. "So when did you get the broken wrist and dislocated shoulder?"

"Before Numb-Nuts got there," answered Sam looking directly at Dean, as if it was his fault.

"Before he got there?" asked John incredulously. "But you weren't losing?"

"No," snapped Sam with all the righteous indignation of a wronged thirteen year-old.

John released his hold on both boys and covered his face with his hands. He couldn't believe how difficult this was turning out to be. He thought it had been hard to deal with the boys when Dean was a preschooler and Sam was a baby. He could deal with demons, ghosts, vampires, werewolves – anything, except maybe teenagers. This was harder than he would ever have believed.

"Okay," he tried. "Let me get this straight," and he paused before he continued. He looked at Sam as he spoke. "You and Rick were fighting. Rick broke your wrist and dislocated your shoulder. But things were going okay?"

"Uh huh," nodded Sam.

"Then Dean showed up?"

Again Sam nodded.

"And he jumped into the fight?"

"No." stated Sam matter-of-factly.

"No?"

"No…He stopped it."

"He stopped the fight?"

"Yeah…He told Rick the fight was over."

John shook his head slowly and closed his eyes. Then he looked back at Sam and said, "He just went up to Rick and told him the fight was over?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"And what does 'pretty much' mean?" asked John, his frustration showing.

"Well…He told Rick the fight was over and not to bother me again."

"And that was it? The fight was over and he left?"

"Yeah."

John swiped his hand across his eyes. Some things in Sam story just weren't coming together and he wondered why it was so hard to drag information out of teenagers. Maybe Dean could fill in the missing pieces.

John turned to his eldest son and asked, "Anything you care to add?"

"Tons," stated Dean as he glanced at his brother. "Like what really happened."

"Okay," countered John. "We're going to continue this in a civilized manner. Just tell me what happened from when you first got there."

"Okay," said Dean. "I was late. I got stopped by the cops on my way to the school. So by the time I got there, everyone was pretty much gone, except for a group of kids way in the back of the schoolyard. I couldn't see Sammy anywhere, so I parked the car and wandered over to where everyone was gathered. As I got closer, I saw that two kids were holding Sam while Rick was trying to attack him."

"Just a minute," interrupted John quickly. This was new. "Two kids were holding Sam?"

"Yeah. They had his arms pinned back and were holding him still. Sam was fending Rick off by using his legs." Dean looked at Sam as he stated with just a hint of pride, "He wasn't doing half bad, either."

"So then what happened?" inquired John, beginning to understand why Dean had probably gotten involved.

"I went up to Rick and told him to call off his goons," shrugged Dean. "And then I told the two kids to let him go."

"And that was it?" asked John.

"No, that wasn't it," complained Sam. "Dean told Rick he wasn't there to help me – just to make sure it was a fair fight." Then he added with irritation, "But then he just jumped back in anyway and told Rick it was over."

"Not quite," sighed Dean. John didn't intercede so Dean continued, "Once they let go of Sammy, I looked him over. That's when I noticed that he was hurt. And there was no way I was going to let him fight hurt. So I walked over to Rick and told him the fight was over."

And that's it?" asked John one more time.

"Yeah…except he was being a smartass, so I told him if he bothered Sam again, he'd have to answer to me."

John sunk his head into his hands once again and sighed. No wonder Dean had intervened. And why couldn't Sam understand that he had been too hurt to fight? He already knew the answer to that question: Because Sam was thirteen and didn't want Dean to be his guardian angel. But Dean had been right in not letting him fight while he was hurt.

Being a parent was harder than anything else he had ever done in his life.

After briefly trying to convince Sam that Dean had done the right thing, John had let the matter drop. Sam had been annoyed with both of them but John knew he would eventually get over it. Besides, it was his job to keep Sam safe; not be his friend. And Dean picked up the slack on both ends when John couldn't.

Sam had remained adamant that he go to school. He was going to face Rick – and everyone else at school – regardless of what his father or brother thought he should do. Nobody was going to call him a coward; he'd see to that – on his own. So when Dean drove him to school, Sam convinced him to let him off just before the school so he could walk onto the school property by himself.

But as Sam closed the door to the Impala, his confidence wavered just a bit and he looked back at Dean. "You'll be here to pick me up, right? You won't be late?"

Dean resisted the urge to smirk at his brother and simply said, "I'll be here."

Sam walked into the schoolyard and Dean watched him until he met up with a group of friends and then he pulled the Impala around and set off for the high school.

Sam was surprised to discover that his day had actually gone better than he had anticipated. Rick never came around to bother him, although Sam had caught him glaring at him more than a few times. But he had kept his distance. There were a few snickers from the other kids in the hallways, but for the most part, things looked as if they might actually be okay. Maybe this whole thing would blow over and be forgotten.

Dean, on the other hand, had a few problems that weren't going to simply blow over. He had made it to school on time, but had been called to the office from his homeroom. Mrs. Martin had not been amused that he had skipped out on his detention and had handed him two more. He would have to serve them in the office during his lunch hour for the next three days. Mrs. Martin wanted to keep a close eye on him.

And he'd had an English test that he had forgotten about. Actually, he had forgotten to read the book. He was pretty sure he had flunked that one.

At least he was able to leave on time to pick up Sam.

And he made sure that he didn't rip up the gravel on his way out of the school lot. No sense raising the ire of the sheriff or his deputies.

Dean pulled the Impala up to the curb in front of Sam's school just as the bell rang. He decided to wait in the car instead of getting out. If he got out and leaned against the car like he usually did, it would probably give the impression that he was some kind of thug. And Sam was mad enough at him already. No point in pissing him off any more either. But he did open the driver's door and leave it ajar – just in case.

Dean watched as Sam emerged from the school and immediately headed toward the Impala. No one seemed to be following him and Sam even appeared to be in an okay mood, giving Dean a quick wave to acknowledge that he had seen him.

As Sam slid into the passenger seat, Dean asked, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," responded Sam with a slight nod.

They rode in silence to the motel only this time it didn't seem as awkward. As Dean pulled the car into a parking space, the door to their motel room opened and his father stood leaning against the door frame, waiting for them. He didn't look too happy.

As Dean got out of the car, he looked at his father and asked, "What's up?"

"Just got a call from the sheriff," came the gruff response.

"The sheriff? About what?" inquired Dean.

"About you."

"Me? What about me?"

"They want me to bring you down to the station. They received a complaint from a Mr. And Mrs. Leavey. Apparently they want to file assault charges against you."