Sorry, this took so long! College…blah!

Dean was in the kitchen washing dishes from dinner while keeping an eye on Adam who was attempting to finish his homework at the kitchen table. As the time passed, Dean noticed the kid's growing frustration as the math problems grew increasingly tougher, and Dean tried to remain optimistic even though he knew Adam had a hard time in math. His pencil would begin bouncing in frustration and his forehead would wrinkle before all hell broke loose and the tantrum would be released. It was the only time Adam ever raised his voice and showed anger in any form. School did not come easily for the kid, and the anger he felt toward himself would sit and bubble before bursting full force. He was like an active volcano ready to erupt at any moment. He had no self-confidence because of the years spent with John, years filled constantly hearing of how he was stupid and dumb, and no matter what Dean and Sam had done, Adam continued to believe his father's words.

As if he knew his brother was thinking about it, Adam flung his papers and books forward and kicked out at the table, jolting Dean from his thoughts. He set the dishes down and calmly walked to where his brother was sitting, arms crossed and anger etched on his face.

"What're you having trouble with, Adam?" Dean crouched down to Adam's level and studied the frustrated boy.

"I don't wanna do this," Adam growled. He did not look up, but continued glaring at the enemy textbook.

"C'mon," Dean patiently said. He pulled the book and papers back again, "what do you need help with?"

"No, I'm not doing it," Adam stubbornly replied, as he kicked out at the table once more.

"Yes, you are. We can work this out together."

"No!" Adam pushed the papers again. "It's stupid. I'm stupid."

"Now stop it, it's just a math problem. It's not the end of the world."

"I can't do it. I'm dumb," Adam sniffed as his vision grew blurry.

"Adam," Dean placed a hand on his brother's knee, "you're not dumb. Look at me." Adam reluctantly turned his head. Dean reached up and wiped the single tear that was able to break through Adam's barricades. "You are not dumb. Hey, look," Adam had turned his head away in doubt, but Dean gently pulled it up again, "You are not stupid, and I don't want to hear you talk about yourself like that again. Math is hard and it might take a while to get, but it's not the end of the world if you don't get it the first time. Do you understand me?" Adam shook his head up and down as he dried his damp face. "Good, now how about we take a break and relax for a bit?"

Adam nodded his head in reply then stood up to walk with Dean to the living room. "What do you want to do?" Dean asked him. Adam shrugged, but allowed Dean to lift him onto the couch. He burrowed close to Dean and wrapped his arm around his brother's waist. "Do you want to read some of Harry Potter?" Adam nodded, so Dean put an arm around Adam's shoulders, opened the book, and began to read. Adam sank deeper into Dean's embrace and visibly relaxed as the story progressed, forgetting all his math woes as he lost himself in the popular fantasy world of good vs. evil.

* * *

Sam walked into his deserted dorm room, towel wrapped around his waist and fresh from his shower. He was startled by the ringing of his phone and he hastily picked it up, knowing it was either Dean or Bobby calling him. "Hello?" he asked.

"Hey, Sammy," Sam broke out in a true smile for the first time in a month at the sound of his brother's voice. "How're you doing up there in Ivy-land?"

"I'm good, Dean," Sam stood up to throw some sweatpants on. "How're you and Adam? Has he had many nightmares?"

"A few, but nothing we can't handle. He's having some trouble with math though."

"Want me to help him," he asked, sitting down at his desk.

"Could you? He won't listen to me, and you were always better at this school stuff."

"Yeah, put him on." Sam waited patiently for Adam to pick up the phone.

"Sammy?" Sam grinned at his little brother's voice.

"Hey kiddo, Dean told me you were having some trouble with your math. Why don't you read me the question and I'll try to help you."

Over the next half hour, Sam worked through the rest of Adam's homework with him, and finally it was all finished without a hint of the tantrum Adam had thrown earlier.

"Sammy," Adam softly said, "I want you to come home. I miss you."

Sam's heart almost broke. "Adam," Sam sighed, "you know I can't do that, kiddo. I have to stay at school. I'll be home in a month or so though, and you'll see me soon enough."

"But Sammy," Adam sounded like he was about to cry.

"Adam," Sam walked to his bed and sat down, head in his hands, "I miss you too, buddy, but there's nothing we can about this. You can call me anytime you want. You know that."

"Yeah?"

"Of course you can. You okay now?" he asked hearing Adam sniff.

"Yeah."

"Okay, can you put Dean back on the phone for me, kiddo?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks, buddy. I love you, Adam."

"Love you, Sammy." Sam sighed and once again ran a hand over his weary face as he heard Adam and Dean talking in the background.

"Here, De," he heard Adam solemnly say.

"Everything okay, Adam?"

"Yeah."

A fumbling with the phone and then Dean's voice came on over the phone, "Everything alright with Adam, Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean, he just asked me to come home again."

"Egh, he'll get over it, Sammy, don't worry about it. So, is school okay and everything? How's the roommate?"

"He's fine," Sam noticed the time and remembered he had fifty pages to read for class tomorrow. "Listen, Dean, I want to talk, but I have to read for class tomorrow."

"You do your thing, geek-boy. I'll talk to you later."

"Are you sure, Dean?" Sam felt guilty cutting his brother off so soon, but he couldn't afford to talk on the phone any longer.

"Sam, it's fine. I'll talk to you again in a few day, okay?"

"Yeah, night Dean."

"Night, Sammy." Sam closed his phone, staring at it thoughtfully before he was startled by his roommate walking in the door.

"Hey, Sam."

"Hi, Derek." Sam stood and walked back to his desk. "Jesus, Sam, what happened to your back?"

Sam whipped around to hide his back from view. He had forgotten about the scars that littered his back. He was so used to not worrying about hiding the scars at home because there, he had nothing to be ashamed of, but at school, nobody knew his secret. He was horrified and humiliated by his roommate's discovery.

"It's nothing, Derek," Sam said as he pulled on a shirt.

"Sam, c'mon man. We've been roommates for a month. You have nightmares all the time, you can tell me. I won't judge you or say anything to anybody about it. I thought we were friends?"

"I have nightmares?" Sam used to have nightmares when he and his brothers first left John, but he had long gotten over them. He was surprised they had started up again.

"I'm a light sleeper, Sam. Now, what's going on?"

"You know how I told you I lived with my brothers?" Sam began.

"Yeah?"

"Well, it's because my father abused the three of us when we were younger. Right before Dean turned eighteen, my dad went crazy and beat the shit out of my younger brother and we left. We haven't seen him since." Sam felt he did not need to tell the whole story at once, he was only just getting used to idea of confiding in Derek.

"Damn man, I'm sorry. That's terrible. If you ever need to talk about anything, you can come to me."

"Thanks, Derek." Sam grabbed his book and settled down on his bed, glad his roommate had not pressured him for details.

* * *

"So, today, we will be discussing what exactly qualifies as child abuse."

'Everything that Dad put us through,' Sam grimly thought. He slunk down in his seat. He really dreaded this class.

"We can start with physical abuse," the professor stood, leaning against his desk as he faced the class. "Now, spanking, does that count as child abuse?"

"No," Joshua, the class jock spoke up. Sam gritted his teeth. He was not a fan of the egotistical prick who walked around like he owned the school. "My parents spanked me loads of times and I never considered it child abuse."

"Okay, but many people nowadays are against any spanking at all, and what of the parents or guardians who use objects to aid in the spankings? When would a parent get to the point when the 'punishment' would be considered child abuse?" The blonde sitting next to Sam raised her hand.

"Miss Moore?"

"I think, in no way, shape, or form, that violence should ever be used against a child. There are kinder and more effective ways of disciplining a child, and if people still believe in spanking a child, they should never, ever use objects to aid in the punishment."

"Nicely put, Ms. Moore. Now, keeping these things in mind, why do you think people continue to abuse children?" Mr. Robinson glanced around the class as no one volunteered to answer. "Mr. Winchester," Sam tensed in seat as he was called on, "we haven't heard from you yet. Please, tell us your opinion on this subject."

"Well," Sam anxiously shuffled in his seat, "I think it could be a mixture of things, family history, mental disorders, or just plain rage added to the effects of alcohol. In any case, I think all child abusers should never live to see the light of day again."

"Harsh," Joshua snorted.

"Well, Joshua," Dr. Robinson said, "since you're so keen to provide insight on this topic, I'll ask you this: say Sam was my son, and he was about to run into the middle of the road. If I grab him like this—" Time stood still when Sam felt his professor's hand grip his neck. It was not a strong grip, it did not pinch the sensitive skin resting below his hairline, the hand was not even as rough and calloused as his father's was, but it still sent Sam into shockwaves. John used to grab the back of their necks while hurling verbal obscenities at them before sliding his belt off or hurling a fist in their direction. It was all too familiar to him.

The pressure was too much. The sudden flashbacks and the overwhelming feelings of danger pain were all too familiar and real. Seconds after his professor touched him he pulled his neck away and fell to the floor. He scrambled to his feet and backed up, unable to find a direct route to the door because the circle of desks was blocking his way. Every eye was on him and his professor was standing there with his arms up the air, slowly advancing, but trying not to look threatening.

"Sam, why don't you calm down and take a seat over there," Dr. Robinson pointed to a desk and chair in the corner of the room. "Class," he directed to the other students, "We're going to end early today, so pack up your things and you can go."

Sam walked dejectedly over to the desk, trying not to think about the stares he was receiving from his classmates as they left the room. He tried to breath and collect himself, knowing he was going to have to explain to his professor what had happened and why he had acted that way.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Robinson," Sam said as his professor sat down.

Dr. Robinson nodded his head and rubbed a hand over his face, reflecting over what had happened before studying his student, "No, I'm sorry, Sam. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that."

"You had no idea I was going to act like I did. It's not your fault."

"Sam, you should have told me you were uncomfortable with the material. We could have switched it."

"I'm fine," Sam muttered.

Dr. Robinson hesitated for a moment before continuing, "Do you want to talk about this?"

"No, I'm good. I just freaked for a minute," Sam played with the hole in his jeans. "I don't want to burden you with anything."

"Sam, I'm a psychiatrist. My job is meant for listening to people. You wouldn't have been burdening me with anything."

Sam took a moment to decide if he would spill all his secrets. He did not want to be known around campus as the "abused kid." He had wanted to escape that title and start fresh, but here he was, freaking out in class and causing a scene. Should he talk to his professor about this? Dean always said it would never hurt to talk about what had happened. He was supposed to see a psychiatrist, but they had only so much money when they first left their father and both Dean and he figured Adam needed help more than he did. After they were settled in the house and into their new life, he had forgot about talking and bottled everything up inside and moved on in his life. In a way, Sam wanted to talk about it. He did not want to hide from his past anymore.

"My dad was abusive," Dr Robinson leaned forward, all ears for Sam. "When you touched me, it just brought back memories, and I panicked."

"Sam, do you still live with your father when you're home? Do you need help?"

"No," Sam shook his head, "when my older brother turned eighteen he took us away from there."

"Who's us?" Dr. Robinson wondered aloud.

"My older brother, Dean, me, and my little brother, Adam."

"Your little brother?"

"Yeah, he's eleven."

"Jesus," Dr. Robinson thought over how to approach the situation. "Was it bad?"

"Yeah," Sam softly answered, "it was pretty bad."

"Sam, feel free to come talk to me at anytime, and actually, if I were you, I'd think about actually talking to the class about it. Now, wait," Dr. Robinson held up a hand when he saw that Sam wanted to interject, "I know this seems drastic, but I think it would do you good to get these things off your chest, but it would also help explain why you reacted the way you did today, while also educating and enlighten the class on the issue."

"I don't know if I could do that, Dr. Robinson," Sam shyly said.

"I know it's a hard decision, Sam, but just think about it, okay?"

"Okay, thanks Dr. Robinsons." Sam stood up from his chair and shuffled out of the classroom, not knowing what he was going to do about this situation.

So, I'm sorry if this seems to be moving slowly, but this is how I've always planned out this story. The big things will start within the next chapter or two. I must say, I was a little disappointed about the amount of reviews I got for the second chapter. It made me sad, seeing the amount of responses I got for the first chapter. Please review and let me know what you liked or didn't liked.