Dean was having a hard time driving; his back hurt like hell and he just couldn't get comfortable in the car. He drove as fast as he could across town without attracting the attention of law enforcement. All he wanted to do was pick up Sam and get back to the motel. He needed his father to take a look at his back; he was sure that his altercations with the guys at school had re-injured his back.

Dean pulled up to the school a few minutes before the bell was due to ring. He was glad that he would have the opportunity to get out of the car while he waited for Sam. He carefully exited the Impala, shut the door and leaned over the door, resting his arms on the roof. This allowed him to shift some of his weight onto his arms, which helped alleviate the pain.

Still, the pain didn't subside for long and it was only a minute or two before Dean felt uncomfortable again. It seemed to be taking forever for the bell to ring and the longer he waited the worse he felt. Dean was beginning to wonder whether he would make it back to the motel when the bell finally rang. But he still had to wait for Sam to show up.

Just as Dean was contemplating going into the school to find Sam, he emerged from the building. Dean sunk his head into his arms in relief and waited for Sam to join him at the car. When he heard the passenger door open, Dean looked up.

"Dean," said Sam full of concern, "You look like hell."

"Thanks. You sure know how to cheer a guy up, Sammy."

"Sorry," apologized Sam as he slid into the car, "But I've seen ghosts with more color than you have."

"Maybe that Aswang got me last night and I am a ghost," responded Dean. "Ever thought of that?"

"That's not funny, Dean."

"Sure it is," replied Dean, "Because then I'd be your worst nightmare come to life."

"You already are."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

When they got back to the motel, Dean noticed that his father's truck was gone before he went inside and immediately fell across the bed.

Sam came into the room right behind him. "Ahhh…..Dean?"

"What?" came the tired, irritated response.

"There's blood soaking right through your shirt."

"Figures. Get me some towels, will ya? And then call Dad."

"Are you gonna be okay?" Sam asked worriedly, as he went to get the towels.

"Yeah. I think some of the stitches need to be redone, that's all."

"You should have let us take you to the hospital last night."

"And what were we going to tell them?" quipped Dean. "I don't know any animal around here that could have made those kinds of claw marks. We didn't need the trouble. We got enough already."

Sam returned with the towels, lifted his brother's shirt and was dismayed at what he saw. All but one set of stitches had come apart and Dean's entire back was covered in blood. He didn't understand it; his father had better skills than that. How could he have done such a lousy job?

"I think you may have lost too much blood."

Just then the motel door opened and John walked in. He took one look at his eldest son lying on the bed and dashed over to him. He removed the towel and inspected his back.

"What the hell did you do to yourself today, Dean?' snapped John.

"Nothing. Just went to school."

"What did you do at school?" retorted John.

"Nothing besides played basketball."

"Bullshit," replied John, just barely concealing his anger. "I knew you were up to something when you left this morning and this just confirms it." He reached for the first-aid kit and pulled out some antiseptic to cleanse the wounds before he attempted to re-stitch them.

"Dad," groaned Dean, "Someone tripped me during the game and I landed on my back. Jarred it pretty good and I guess it re-opened the stitches."

"Bullshit," reiterated John, as he set about mending his son's back. "I might not know what really happened but I'm smart enough to know when you're lying to me. So, if you're not going to tell me the truth, don't bother to say anything at all. Got that?"

"Yes Sir."

John set about stitching up his son's back and he noticed that most of the stitches had been pulled apart. He knew that it was usually some sort of trauma that caused stitches to re-open like that and wondered again what Dean had been up to at school. He wished that he had been more forceful and made him stay home that morning. He berated himself again for his lack of parenting skills and thought about what Mary would think of him. He couldn't help but feel that he'd have disappointed her once more.

But he didn't have time to dwell on those thoughts and quickly swept them from his mind. He had to mend Dean's stitches in order for him to have some time to rest before they had to go to the sheriff station. He knew that Dean was in no shape for any kind of meeting right now. Not that an hour of rest would do much good, but it was better than nothing. And it was all they had.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The three Winchesters arrived at the sheriff's office just before 5:00 p.m. and were ushered into the same room John and Dean had been in the night before. As soon as they sat down, Dean slumped forward with his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. He stayed like that until they heard the door open.

As soon as Dean heard the door unlatch, he sat up straight and removed all looks of pain and fatigue from his face. John marveled at how well he was able to achieve a look of normalcy. Up until that moment, John had worried about how Dean was going to make it through this meeting. Now, he knew that Dean was going to get through it the same way he always did – by ignoring how he really felt and presenting a view of himself that he felt would best suit his purposes. John knew that Dean had been forced to learn how to handle himself in some pretty outrageous situations with the lifestyle that had been imposed on him and, after twelve years, he had it pretty much down to a science. At least he didn't have to worry about how Dean was going to get through this; now if he could just get some kind of reassurance from the Leaveys.

Mr. and Mrs. Leavey entered the small room, followed by their son and then by Sheriff Durham, who shut the door behind him. As they walked around the table to take seats opposite the Winchester clan, John stood up and both Sam and Dean followed his lead.

When the Leaveys had chosen their respective seats, John extended his hand to Mr. Leavey and introduced himself. "John Winchester."

"Yes, I know," replied Rick's father somewhat haughtily, but he accepted John's proffered hand.

John was somewhat taken aback by the limp handshake; usually lawyers and politicians had firmer handshakes. They realized it was an important tool when introducing themselves and knew strong handshakes made good first impressions. The fact that this man didn't seem to care bothered John. Either he just wasn't concerned enough about why they were here or he had too much clout in this backwater town. Whichever it was, it didn't bode well for Dean.

Dean felt that he should introduce himself, seeing as he was the reason they were here and he offered his hand to Mr. Leavey as he announced his name in the same manner his father had. But, before the man had a chance to respond, the sheriff grabbed Dean's wrist and guided his arm back down to his side.

"I think maybe we should all take our seats," offered Sheriff Durham. "We all know why we're here. I suppose that some introductions would be in order."

"No, I don't believe that's required. I think we can all figure out who's who on our own." piped up Mr. Leavey, sounding less than impressed. "But I would like to state that I don't really know why my wife agreed to this meeting. " And his final statement was aimed directly at Dean. "I think this will turn out to be a complete waste of time."

"With all due respect," interceded John, "I don't think that we have all the facts surrounding this incident. And that's what I'd like to find out before we go jumping to any conclusions."

"Well, I know what my son told me," stated Mr. Leavey. "Are you suggesting that my son lies to me?"

John realized that this meeting was going to be more difficult than he had thought and he knew that he was going to have to choose his words carefully if he hoped to accomplish anything. "No, I'm sure he doesn't. But I think its basic human nature to smooth over the facts when recounting an event. The truth probably falls somewhere between the stories that we've been told."

"Rick's friends have corroborated what he told us," said Mrs. Leavey.

John tried to keep the exasperation from his voice when he added, "And both Sam and Dean have told me the same version of events. I just think we need to hear all sides if we want to ascertain what really happened."

"But there's no disputing the fact that your oldest son threatened my son," answered Mr. Leavey.

"I think the facts may go a bit deeper than that," countered John.

But before he could continue, Dean interjected. "I'm sorry to interrupt but I have something to say." Everyone looked at him and he continued, "I'm the one who's being charged with assault but I don't even know the basis for the charge. I think that, before we go any further, I'd like to know exactly what has been filed with the sheriff so I can respond to that."

Sheriff Durham looked at Dean and replied, "Well son, I told you yesterday that the allegation is that you approached the Leavey boy and threatened him with harm should he go near your brother again."

"Yes Sir," agreed Dean, "But you didn't provide any details as to the circumstances that led up to that."

"The complaint just says that you approached Rick Leavey in the schoolyard and threatened him with physical harm if he went near your brother again," replied the sheriff glanced through the file. "Apparently there were a bunch of kids standing around – your brother included – and you came up and threatened them all."

"So, I just walked up to a bunch of kids and threatened them for no reason?" asked Dean incredulously.

Mr. Leavey piped up, "I'm sure that you think you had your reasons for approaching them but, regardless of what those reasons may be, you don't have the right to threaten my son."

"No Sir," stated Dean, trying his best to keep his anger in check, "But sometimes things aren't as clear-cut as they seem to be without knowing what had happened first. I mean…if someone filed a complaint that simply stated I put my hands on their chest and tried to kiss them, it might be a good thing to know that they had been pulled unconscious from the river and I was performing CPR, don't you think? Otherwise, I just sound like some kind of pervert."

"And were you performing CPR, Son?" retorted Mr. Leavey, sounding bored with Dean's analogy.

"No Sir," replied Dean, irritation evident in his voice, "But your son didn't drown either. He was fighting with my brother."

"And you think that gave you the right to threaten him?" responded Mr. Leavey. "Besides which, according to my son, there was no fight."

"Excuse me?" replied Dean in disbelief.

John didn't like the way this was going and decided to jump in when it didn't appear that the sheriff had any intention of getting involved. "This is exactly what I mean. I think we need to get a clear picture of what exactly was happening before Dean approached your son."

"To be quite honest with you, I really don't care what was happening before your son approached Rick," put in Mr. Leavey. "He had no business approaching him at all. It's exactly these kinds of incidents that we are trying to discourage in this town and that's why I want him charged."

John's comment of "Fair enough" made Dean stare at him in disbelief. He couldn't believe that his father was agreeing with this man. But John wasn't finished and he added, "Mr. Leavey, you may not want to know what was happening, but I do. As far as there not being a fight, I'm sorry, but I have to disagree with you. Something was happening in the schoolyard between your son and Sam that resulted in my son's shoulder being dislocated and his wrist broken. According to his teacher, Sam was fine when he left class that day, so sometime between leaving the school and arriving home, my son was physically assaulted." He took a deep breath and continued forcefully, "I want to know about that. And I think that the two people who can best explain what happened are Sam and Rick. I'm waiting to hear from them."

Mrs. Leavey turned to her son, "Rick, did you have anything to do with that young man's injuries?"

"Mom…" started Rick hesitantly, before Sheriff Durham interrupted him.

"Okay, folks. Seems things are getting a little heated here and as much as I'd like to stay out of it and let you folks hash it out yourselves, I can't do that. Seems there might have been something else going on that could have started this whole thing. I think it might be best to start with that." He looked at Rick's father and added, "Wouldn't you agree, Greg?"

Rick's father slowly nodded his head but didn't say anything.

Sheriff Durham turned to Sam and asked him to explain how he received his injuries. Sam hesitantly told him about Rick bothering him at school and how he didn't want to get in a fight with him so he tried to avoid him as much as possible. He mentioned that this had been going on pretty much since the beginning of school but he just figured it was because he was the new kid in school and that if he just ignored Rick, he'd get tired of taunting him and go away.

"But things kinda escalated in the last couple of weeks and Rick's been on my case constantly. It really got bad early this week after Dean interfered in a little argument we were having."

"Wait a minute," interrupted Mr. Leavey, leaning forward in his seat. "He interfered in another argument?"

"Well, kinda," replied Sam. "I guess he thought Rick was gonna hit me so he just asked if there was a problem. But he wasn't anywhere near us at the time."

Mr. Leavey addressed his son, "Did he threaten you then, too?"

"No," answered Rick. "It's like Sam said. He asked if there was a problem and when Sam said there wasn't, he just told Sam he'd drive him to his friend's house. And they left."

"And is there any truth to the statement that you were going to hit Sam?" inquired Mr. Leavey.

"Dad, you know me better than that," protested Rick. "I wouldn't hit anyone."

"I didn't think so," responded Mr. Leavey. "But I just wanted to make sure, seeing as we're being forced to participate in this little charade."

"Greg," cautioned the sheriff, "No one's being forced to participate." He nodded slightly in Sam's direction as he stated, "And this boy obviously has some injuries that he says your son is responsible for, so I think it's a good idea if we try to clear this up tonight. Don't you agree?"

Mr. Leavey sighed. "Bob, you heard Rick. He said he'd never hit anyone. And all I see is a cast on that boy's arm. We can't verify his injuries or even when they happened."

John pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. "I have the hospital report right here, if you'd care to see it." He had spent the better part of the day obtaining the document from the hospital and then doctoring it to remove all references to the bruising on Sam's neck. He didn't want that brought up in this meeting.

Sheriff Durham reached for the document and John handed it to him. No one spoke while the sheriff read the report. When he had finished reading it, he swiped his hand across his eyes and looked at Rick's father. "Says here that the injuries were incurred on Tuesday. Broken wrist and dislocated shoulder. Probably a result of a physical altercation. I think maybe we should hear these people out." Then he turned to Sam. "Want to tell me what happened?"

Sam took a deep breath. "Rick was giving me a hard time after school and we ended up saying a few things to each other. One thing led to another until finally it looked like we were probably going to end up fighting. We were kinda staking each other out when I got grabbed from behind. I think that's when my shoulder got dislocated – just the way they grabbed me. I felt something snap out of place. Anyway, Rick came at me and I tried to use my arms to defend myself but he grabbed my wrist and bent it backwards until it snapped. So I started using my feet to try to keep him away from me. That's when Dean showed up."

"Aww, you're so full of shi…" started Rick before he glanced at both his parents. "I mean, that's not what happened. We were having some words, like he said. But we weren't fighting – just kinda buggin' each other. And I guess Sam didn't like it, so he took a swing at me. That's when Carl grabbed him. To stop him from hitting me. But he wouldn't calm down so Jimmy grabbed his other arm. And that's when his brother showed up and threatened all of us."

"So, how'd he get his injuries, Rick?" queried the sheriff. He was rather skeptical of Rick's story but he had no way of verifying his doubts unless Rick tripped himself up.

Rick looked at him, bewildered and shrugged, "I honestly don't know. Maybe his brother did it after we left."

"Now, Rick," advised Sheriff Durham, "That doesn't sound very plausible, does it?"

"Well, I dunno," replied Rick smugly. "You should have seen how mad his brother was the day before when he saw Sam walking across the park. Sam obviously didn't want to talk to him because, as soon as he saw him, he turned and headed off in the other direction." Rick looked at Dean, a small smirk on his face as he continued, "And Dean was so mad he drove his car onto the grass after him and threatened him if he didn't get in the car." Then he looked back at the sheriff and added, "So you tell me if you think it's possible."

'Aww, fuck,' thought Dean. 'I can't believe this. I'm getting screwed.'