Suddenly, Dean was jerked violently backwards. He released his hold on Andy and spun around, ready to take on his latest opponent. Instead, he came face to face with Mr. Thompson. He quickly unclenched his fists and held his hands innocently out in front of him.

"Mr. Thompson," he uttered, surprised to see the gym teacher standing in front of him and knowing that he was in deep trouble.

Dean glanced behind him in time to see another teacher, Mr. Morris, grab Andy and hall him off the table. Mr. Morris spun Andy around so he was also facing the irate gym teacher; all the while maintaining his grip on Andy's shoulders in much the same manner as Mr. Thompson held Dean.

"I guess I shouldn't have given you boys the benefit of the doubt yesterday, should I" exploded Mr. Thompson angrily. Without waiting for an answer, he released his hold on Dean's shoulders and pushed him toward the exit. "Well, you're both going to the office now." He grasped Andy's arm and propelled him forward and declared, "March!"

Andy lunged forward until he was directly behind Dean and whispered into his ear, "I'm gonna kill you!" before Mr. Thompson yanked him backwards, separating the two teenagers.

Dean shrugged as if he was unconcerned; a ploy designed to further incense his nemesis, although, at the moment, a fight with Andy was the last thing he was worried about. He was more concerned about what would happen after the principal called his father. That was the confrontation he feared.

This certainly wasn't turning out to be the best week of his life. Hopefully, it wouldn't be the last, either.

When they reached the office, Mr. Thompson directed the two boys to each take a seat in the chairs situated outside Mrs. Martin's office – Dean at one end and Andy at the other – and ordered them to refrain from talking. Then he entered the principal's office and shut the door behind him.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Martin appeared at her office door and summoned the two teenagers inside. After they were seated, Mrs. Martin positioned herself between the two of them and leaned against her desk with her arms folded across her chest. She looked at the two boys and slowly shook her head.

"Mr. Thompson informs me that there was a little skirmish between you boys in the cafeteria just now. Do either of you wish to fill me in on the details?"

Neither teenager responded so she continued, "From what I hear, this isn't the first time you two have had a problem with each other. It seems to be an ongoing conflict. Am I correct?"

Again, her question was met with silence.

Mrs. Martin sighed. "Well, I guess we'll just wait until your parents get here to discuss this." She glanced at both boys and told them to retake their seats outside her office until their parents arrived at which time she would speak with each of them and their parents.

John was the first parent to arrive - less than 15 minutes after he had been called. Dean could tell by the sideways glance his father cast him as he walked in that his father was not impressed. He watched as his father introduced himself to the secretary and then took a seat beside him to wait for the principal. Dean opted out of saying anything to his father, choosing to wait until Mrs. Martin called them into her office. The less he said right now, the better.

Momentarily, the door to Mrs. Martin's office opened and she ushered both John and Dean inside. John introduced himself, shaking the principal's hand, before he sat down.

As Mrs. Martin resumed her seat, she opened Dean's student file before she looked at John and stated bluntly, "Mr. Winchester, your son isn't having a very good week. Are you aware of any of the problems he's been having recently?"

"No Ma'am, I'm not," responded John politely, shooting a sideways glance at his son.

"Well," began Mrs. Martin calmly, "Dean seems to have a penchant towards arriving late for school; he's been late nine times already this year. He also seems to have the uncanny ability to smooth-talk some of his teachers into ignoring his blatant disregard of the school rules and, until his latest infraction on Tuesday, he hadn't been held accountable for any of his prior offenses. When this was all brought to my attention, I felt that it was high time he accept some responsibility for his actions and I assigned him a detention to be served that day after school, but unfortunately, he chose not to attend."

Mrs. Martin paused. John didn't say anything because he was sure that the issue of his eldest son being late for school was not the most pressing matter right now. He wanted to hear everything the principal had to say before he said anything.

Dean continued staring into his lap but he could feel his father's hardened gaze on him. This was worse than the entire fiasco with the sheriff and he just wanted to get out of there. But the prospect of going home with his father wasn't a comforting one either.

Mrs. Martin continued, "As a result of missing the detention on Tuesday, Dean was given three new detentions to serve in this office during his lunch period. Today was his final detention. When I noticed that he hadn't brought any lunch with him, I dismissed him early so he could get something to eat from the cafeteria before his afternoon classes. Unfortunately, that decision proved to be huge mistake. Within ten minutes of leaving this office, he'd been escorted back by our gym teacher, Mr. Thompson, for fighting with another student."

John rubbed his eyes before he turned to his son. "Do you care to explain yourself?" he asked, making it sound more like an order than a request.

Still, Dean responded, "No, Sir," without looking up.

"No, Sir? That's it?" asked John incredulously. "That's all you're going to say for yourself?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You can do better than that," retorted John crossly.

"No Sir, I can't," stated Dean. "I have no explanation for my actions." Nothing that I care to explain anyway.

"Nothing?" countered John again.

"No Sir."

"You just decided to get into a fight with another boy?"

"Something like that," confirmed Dean. He looked at his father and quickly added, "Sir."

John inhaled deeply. He turned to Mrs. Martin and inquired, "May I ask the name of the boy he was fighting with?"

"The student's name is Andrew Warner. And this isn't the first time the two of them have been involved in some sort of altercation. Yesterday, the same teacher caught them in the boys' locker room engaged in some sort of argument. He didn't report it to this office because he didn't feel that he had witnessed anything specific enough to bring it to my attention. So instead, he talked to both boys and felt that a warning would be a sufficient deterrent. Unfortunately, he was wrong."

John looked at his son again and asked , "Why were you fighting Dean?"

"I guess we just had a disagreement that got out of hand."

"A disagreement?"

"Yes, Sir. I can't explain it better than that."

"Can't? Or won't?" asked John in annoyance.

Dean shrugged and said. "I don't have an explanation. There just isn't one."

John was silent for a moment before he addressed the principal. "I suppose he'll be suspended for this?"

"I'm afraid so," answered the principal. "Any type of physical confrontation merits a five day suspension for all parties involved. Of course, if the student wishes, he is allowed to present evidence in his own defense that could nullify a suspension. For example, a suspension could be avoided if the student was acting in, say, self-defense."

John turned back to Dean, "Would you like to say anything now?"

"No Sir."

Mrs. Martin leaned over her desk and spoke quietly, "Dean." When he didn't look at her, she tried again, "Dean. Mr. Thompson told me that he saw Andy come up behind you and place you in a headlock and that you simply reacted to that. Is that correct?"

Dean didn't answer. Nor did he look up.

John was getting tired of his son's evasiveness and he raised his voice slightly as he commanded, "Answer the question."

Dean glanced quickly at both his father and the principal. "What do you want me to say? That I was defending myself? That he started it? That he was wrong and I was right?" He took a deep breath and continued, "Well, I'm not going to say any of that. There was a fight. We were both involved. End of story."

"Dean, you could really help yourself if you weren't quite so antagonistic," put in Mrs. Martin. "You know a suspension will be written into your permanent student record, don't you?"

"I have nothing else to say," responded Dean bitterly. Who cared if the suspension was permanently on his record? It wasn't like he was planning to go to college or anything. As far as he was concerned this was the last stop for his academic records. He didn't need either the principal's help or his father's to work out his problem with Andy and Robin. He'd deal with it on his own.

Mrs. Martin and John exchanged looks but there was nothing they could do if Dean chose to remain silent.

Mrs. Martin addressed John, "There will be an official report for the suspension written up and a copy will be mailed to you. There is an appeals process should either you or Dean decide that you want to appeal the suspension. All the details will be provided with the copy of the report when you receive it. It is also a requirement that you and I meet again shortly after all the pertinent facts have been gathered so that we can discuss the suspension in detail. We'll call you to set up an appointment for sometime next week. I hope that will be satisfactory."

John nodded before he asked, "How can I go about obtaining any schoolwork that Dean's going to miss?"

"I'll speak to all Dean's teachers and ask them to provide me with all the schoolwork that he will have to complete so he doesn't fall behind. You can pick it up here tomorrow afternoon." Mrs. Martin stood up and opened her office door. As she ushered them out, she said, "Unfortunately, I'll have to request that Dean not come to pick it up himself. He'll have to stay away off school property until the suspension period is over. But, if you're willing to accompany him to his locker, he may get any books and personal effects he'll need before you leave the school."

As Dean exited the principal's office, he noticed that both Andy's mother and father had arrived and were waiting beside their son. They both looked about as happy as his father had when he arrived. At least he only had his father to deal with; he hated to think how much this would have disappointed his mother.

John shook the principal's hand as he left the office and followed Dean into the hallway.

As they walked down the corridor, John piped up, "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"No Sir," replied Dean without looking at his father.

John simply shook his head; Dean was definitely just as stubborn as he had been at that age. "Just tell me that this doesn't have anything to do with that boy's girlfriend."

"No, Sir, it doesn't," replied Dean. At least he wasn't lying about that.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

John had refrained from saying anything further to Dean until they arrived at the motel. As soon as he closed the door, he lit into him.

"What were you thinking? Fighting in the school? How many times have I talked to you about that?"

"Sorry," was all Dean bothered to offer in his defense.

"Sorry…What?" retorted John.

"Sorry, Sir."

"I want to know what was going on in your head before you decided to pick a fight with this boy?" continued John, trying to reign in his anger. "You know, one day, you're going to go too far and you're really going to hurt someone."

"Dad," countered Dean. "I didn't pick a fight with him. You heard Mrs. Martin. He had me in a headlock. I reacted. Mr. Thompson showed up. We went to the office. They called you. We came home. Plain and simple."

"So it was self-defense?" asked John, more than a little relieved to hear Dean say he hadn't started it.

"I wouldn't call it self-defense," contradicted Dean. "It was more of a Get-the-hell-away-from-me response. Followed by a warning not to do it again."

John shook his head in frustration. How was he going to survive until his boys grew up?

John had some research he wanted to complete so he ordered Dean to sit at the table and do the homework he had brought home with him. John sat opposite his eldest son to keep an eye on him and make sure he actually completed it. There'd be none of this half-assed homework completion while he was suspended from school.

Between the homework he had done during his detentions and the work his father was overseeing now, Dean couldn't remember the last time that he had actually done so much schoolwork.

When Dean was finished, he closed his books and leaned over to see what his father was working on.

John looked up and stated casually, "I'm looking for our next job. I was hoping there'd be something close by so I won't have to pull you boys from school again."

"Any luck?" asked Dean. It certainly wouldn't break his heart if they had to pick up and leave this back-woods town.

"Nothing so far," replied John nonchalantly. He looked at Dean and asked sharply, "You finished all your schoolwork?"

Dean nodded before he noticed the glare his father was fixing him with. "Yes Sir."

"Then go and clean out my truck," ordered John. "This isn't a holiday and until I can get some more schoolwork for you, I'll just have to find you other things to keep you occupied. Got that?"

"Yes Sir," replied Dean as he got up to follow his father's instructions.

Dean spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning out his father's truck. It wasn't that it was that dirty or messy, it was just that he didn't want his father to find him something else to do. So every time he found something interesting regarding a previous hunt or something his father had discovered in a newspaper, Dean read through it. By the time he had finished cleaning the truck, it was almost time to get Sam from school.

Dean walked back into the motel room to find his father scouring an article from a recent newspaper.

"Anything interesting?"

"Could be," replied John. "It looks like the Axeman of New Orleans may be back."

"Axeman of New Orleans? Never heard of him."

"It was a series of murders in the early 1900's. All unsolved. All had the same M.O. All the victims were married couples, asleep in their beds when they were butchered with an ax. Cops never found a suspect."

"And I gather there's been more of these murders recently?" inquired Dean.

"Yeah. Three couples in the last month. The police don't have any leads. Might be something we should look into. But it's awfully far away. I'd have to pull you boys outta school again. I'm not sure how Sammy would like that. He hates to change schools in the middle of the year."

"Speaking of Sammy," interceded Dean, "You still want me to pick him up from school, right?"

"Only as long as you can promise that you won't get into any more trouble if I let you out of my sight," retorted John.

"Dad," answered Dean, sounding offended, "You know me better than that."

"That's exactly why I want your word that you'll behave yourself."

"Scouts honor."

"Too bad you were never a Scout," replied John. But he nodded his head toward the door as assertion for Dean to go pick up his brother.

Dean grabbed his keys and headed out the door. He pulled the Impala out of the parking lot and headed towards Sam's school. He'd driven about a ¾ of a mile when traffic stopped dead. He could see an accident up ahead between a delivery truck and a minivan. Judging by the number of emergency vehicles on the scene there must have been injuries.

Dean decided to turn the car around and take the back streets through town instead of staying on the main drag. Traffic wasn't moving very fast and, although taking the back roads would take longer, it would probably take less time than waiting for them to clear the accident.

By the time Dean got to the school, there was no one around. He figured he'd wait a few minutes just in case Sam had gone back into the school. Dean was surprised that Sam hadn't called him on his cell phone and he pulled it out of his pocket to check if he could have missed his call.

Nothing.

After Sam hadn't emerged from the school a few minutes later, Dean drove down the street to Jake's house. He parked the Impala by the curb, got out and knocked on the front door. After a brief wait, a teenage girl opened the door.

'Must be Jake's sister.' "Hi," said Dean, flashing her a quick smile.

"Hi," she responded, giving him the once-over before she smiled back at him.

"Is Jake home?"

"Yeah, he's upstairs."

"Do you know if my brother Sam is with him?"

"I dunno. Just a sec. I'll check." She turned around and hollered up the stairs, "Jake? Is Sam up there with you?"

"No," came the distant response.

"Can you ask him if he has any idea where he might have gone?" asked Dean.

Jake's sister repeated Dean's question but there was no immediate answer. Then Jake appeared at the front door.

He looked at Dean quizzically and said, "I dunno where he went. But he left with Rick."

"He left with Rick?" asked Dean in disbelief.

Yeah," replied Jake. "I saw him get into a car with Rick and they left."

"He got into a car with him?" reiterated Dean.

"Yeah. A red Mustang. I'm pretty sure it was Rick's brother's car and he was driving."