Teaser: We haven't seen the last of the Brooster…

Charli: Wow, thanks for the great review!!! I'm glad that you're liking this story, and if your review is anything to go by you're going to like what's coming! LoL And I'm glad to be able to brighten up a cloudy, gloomy England day for you…

A/N – To all those who have reviewed so far, thank you heaps!!! I woke up feel a bit down and hormonal this morning – all those wonderful pregnancy emotions we get to enjoy as well as everything else – and then I check my email and… wow! 44 emails! And all of them bar 4 were reviews or alerts or favs!!! I'm just beaming ear to ear right now, thank you heaps for cheering me up!!!

Disclaimer: As usual, not mine… not feeling particularly witty, so that's it. Saving my energy for the story ahead…

Chapter Four

Papa Bear, the Uber Dad

"Why don't we start by discussing what we think should happen here," Headmaster Johnston suggested, lacing his fingers on the desk in front of him. John clenched his jaw, this guy already getting on his nerves. He was preppy and a real 'pretty boy' type with slicked back hair and a three piece suit. It made John want to grab him by the paisley tie and strangle him. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement on what we should do with these boys…"

"Well," John began, forcing himself to calm down. "First of all I think that punk should be expelled and this should go on his permanent record."

"What? I don't think that's entirely fair given that there's no actual proof that Clarence did anything wrong," Mr Brooster complained, his tone stern. "If anyone should be expelled it's that shit kid, Winchester! He's the one caught out doing drugs!"

"What did you just call my son?" John asked, glaring at the man in the chair beside him. "You know, I've put people in their place for a lot less, mister, and you speak out of line about my boy again…"

"Mr Winchester, let's try and keep this civil, shall we?" Johnston suggested, holding his hands up to keep the peace. "First of all, Clarence is one of our budding athletes, he's won most of our medals in track…"

"Until now," John muttered.

"And I don't think we should automatically condemn one of the school's best athletes for a childhood indiscretion," Johnston continued as if John hadn't spoken. "I think we can get away without marking the record of our future football captain."

"He's a bit young to be saying he's gonna be football captain, don't you think?" John asked. He couldn't help but notice Mr Brooster grinning beside him. "I mean, it's entirely possible that someone will come along whose better than him, and you can't let him get away with something like this just because he MIGHT become the captain of the football team! Kids need to be taught a lesson! They need to know the difference between right and wrong, and Clarence clearly has some gaps in that particular area… and what the hell are you talking about, a childhood indiscretion? He nearly killed my son!"

"Oh, please, Mr Winchester, let's cut the dramatics," Mr Brooster suggested, buffing his nails on his suit jacket. "For starters, Clarence will be the captain of the football team… Jonesy is, and I was before him… it's in our blood."

"I'm guessing that's not all that's in your kids blood, maybe he should be tested for drugs huh?" John suggested. "Maybe the whole family should be tested…"

"And as for your boy nearly dying, that's a tad dramatic, don't you think? And there's no evidence that Clarence was even involved!" Mr Brooster added, again ignoring John. "I think you've forgotten that it was MY boy being beaten in gym… if Coach Mortimer hadn't been there, your son could well have killed Clarence."

John glared at the man again before turning his attention to Johnston.

"You can't seriously be telling me that you buy into this crap?" John asked. "My son nearly died! He could have had a heart attack with what this kid did to him! Clarence deliberately spike Sam's drink, and with no regard as to how much he gave him, either! He didn't care if Sam lived or died, or what damage he did in the…"

"Mr Winchester, I am well aware of the facts in this case," Johnston interrupted. John was fuming, if these people kept interrupting him, he was going to start getting really angry... if it wasn't bad enough his little boy was suffering because of this stupid kid, these men wanted to cover it up and act as if Clarence Brooster was the all round angel people thought he was!

"I respectfully disagree," John snapped. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You don't know the first thing about Sam, and if you did you would no that he doesn't do drugs, that he would never even consider it! This boy, this star of yours is not what you think. He's a bully and he's a dangerous boy with access to some dangerous drugs, and if he's not stopped then next time someone threatens his title he'll just kill him! You're so busy protecting him and this school that you don't care what happens to my son!"

"Mr Winchester, while I understand how hard it must be for you to accept that your son has a problem, it doesn't seem fair for you to be spreading viscous lies about Clarence," Mr Brooster told him, his voice annoyingly calm. "My son has done nothing wrong, here, and it isn't right that you try to ruin his reputation just so you don't have to face up to the problems within your own family."

"You…"

"Mr Winchester, Mr Brooster, there is only one course of action to be taken here," Johnston announced, stopping John again. "For starters, I think that both the boys are fine athletes, and I can see that this isn't going to be a popular decision to make, but given that I'm the only one in this room who is thinking rationally and impartially about the situation, I'm going to have to make a command decision."

John laughed. This asshole wouldn't know the meaning of a command decision, he thought. Before Johnston continued, John saw something outside the window that caught his attention and he had to force himself not to laugh outside and cheer his eldest son on as he forced Brooster to have a taste of his own medicine… John forced himself to tune into the conversation at hand all the while wishing he could be outside to get a better view of justice.

Dean clearly had the right idea.

"Sam Winchester is hereby suspended for two weeks," Johnston announced. "He will face a months detention upon his return from that suspension, and I'm afraid he's going to have to leave the track meet scheduled for next month…"

"WHAT?!" John yelled, getting to his feet. "My son is the victim here!"

"Your son was caught doing drugs, Mr Winchester, and this school has a policy of zero tolerance," Johnston told him calmly. "I can't let your son get away with doing drugs when boys like Clarence Brooster are doing the right thing and trying to get by honestly."

"The right thing?" John asked, his voice rising dangerously. "Trying to kill my son is the right thing? What the hell kind of school is this?"

"Mr Winchester, I'm going to have to ask you to keep your voice down and take your seat," Johnston told him. "I will not have you making a scene and making poor Clarence's life any harder than it is since he's been accused of this terrible situation…"

"Poor Clarence? You're kidding me right?" John straightened and began pacing toward the door and then back to the desk.

Toward the door.

Back to the desk.

He pointed an angry finger at Johnston, wishing he could just…

"Does anybody even care that a good kid like Sam nearly died? That HIS reputation is shot? Does anyone give a SHIT what he's going through?" John yelled, giving up on controlling his anger. "Everyone should know what happened here! They should know what that kid did to Sam!!! I want my son's name cleared!"

"Mr Winchester, please lower your voice," Johnston insisted, getting to his feet.

John shook his head and stormed out of the room. His son's weren't around, but he thought that might actually be a good thing given what he had decided to do. He started banging on the doors of each classroom he came across, interrupting everyone until people started leaving classrooms to see what was going on.

"My son is Sam Winchester, and he's fresh out of hospital!" John yelled as he moved around the courtyard. "He nearly died because some prick, Clarence Brooster, spiked his water with speed!!!"

"You bastard," Mr Brooster yelled, running to grab John by the jacket and shaking him. "This isn't right, Winchester!"

"Is it right that Sam is being suspended and kicked out of the track meet because your son doesn't like to be second best?" John asked, freeing himself from he man's grip and pushing him away. "He could have died, Brooster! And all this school cares about is covering it's ass! While my son is hung out to dry, they're already giving Clarence the thumbs up to become captain of the football team!"

Mr Brooster took a swing at John, but John ducked and drove his fist into the man's abdomen so hard he doubled over and dropped to his knees.

"I just thought you should all know what kind of a school you go to," John continued. "And don't ever accept a drink from that kid!"

John pointed at Clarence Brooster as he peeked around the corner.

"It just might be what kills you," John added.

"Mr Winchester, this is not how to deal with this situation," Johnston told him. "You are going to have to leave the premises before I call the police."

"Oh, don't worry, I wont be back," John assured him. "And neither will Sam… I wouldn't want him in a school that rewards the bastard for doing the wrong thing and destroying someone's life and then suspends the victim…"

John turned on his heel and walked away.

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"It doesn't look like Dad liked the way the meeting went," Sam announced, leaning forward in the back seat and peering out the window. John was banging on doors and causing a scene, but Sam only half wished that he could have been there. He knew his father was probably defending him, but he didn't want to hear it… his father held Sam responsible for the awaiting hunt, and he couldn't blame him. People are getting hurt because of me, Sam though sadly. When Dean didn't respond, Sam turned to face him. "You okay?"

Dean's eyes were closed and pain was etched into his face. He was pale and seemed to be trembling slightly… a very different Dean than the one who had not long ago punished the boy who had put Sam in hospital. This Dean had Sam worried… extremely worried.

"Dean?" Sam tried again, reaching out and touching his brother's arm. It felt hot, even through Dean's jacket. "Dean?"

"It's okay Sam," Dean assured him, his voice low. "I'm okay… just got a headache."

"You've been getting a lot of those lately," Sam observed.

"Hey, it happens," Dean dismissed. "I'm fine… besides, we gotta hunt on tonight, right?"

Sam nodded.

"I guess so," he agreed. His father had said they'd be hunting tonight, but only after Sam had insisted he was well enough to go. His father had wanted to put it off another few days, but Sam insisted he was okay, and that he didn't want anyone else to get hurt. Still, seeing Dean like this… "Maybe you should stay home tonight?"

Dean's eyes opened at the suggestion.

"If you think for one second I'm gonna let you have all the fun, you got another think coming," Dean told him, his voice surprisingly harsh. "Besides," he tried again. "I gotta keep an eye on that geek brother of mine…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The minute Dean had opened his eyes, he'd regretted it. His vision wasn't just blurry anymore, it was multi-coloured. Blues, pinks, greens and yellows buzzed around him, distorting his brother's face until he looked almost… well, inhuman. He knew his migraines were getting worse but he pushed them aside as best he could. He had to, Sam needed him right now and that was all that mattered… and his father needed him to be there for Sam. Things were so hard and tense right now that Dean didn't have the luxury of getting sick.

He pushed the pain aside and closed his eyes, waiting for the aspirin to kick it. It shouldn't be long now and the pain would be dulled and he'd be able to focus better. He'd be fine for the hunt, he was sure of that. He had to be, he wouldn't let Sam go out there without him, no way in hell! And Sam had already made it perfectly clear that he wouldn't stay at home while the others hunted… Sam had had a look in his eye that suggested this hunt had special meaning for him, like he thought he had to prove himself or something.

Sam didn't have to prove himself to anyone but Sam, Dean knew that… but if his little brother felt he needed this, then he would be right there with him to keep him safe.

"Dean…"

By the sound of Sam's tone, Dean knew he hadn't convinced his brother he'd be okay. He could hear Sam was worried, so he turned in his seat and met his little brother's eyes. For once, Sam held his gaze.

"I'm okay, Sam," he assured him. "I just have a headache. I've had an aspirin, and everything will be okay…"

Sam hesitated and then looked away. Dean saw the fear and doubt cloud over in Sam's eyes first and knew that he was about to shutdown again and fast.

"Sammy?" Dean called, touching his brother's leg to get his attention. Sam didn't face him and Dean knew he'd fallen back into whatever pit he had crawled out of for a moment. "You know none of this your fault, right?"

Sam sighed.

Dean knew that Sam didn't want to talk about it, but he had to give it a shot. Besides, it could help Sam to talk about it and it would take his mind of his worries about Dean… it was a win-win as far as Dean was concerned, but the firm set of his brother's jaw told him he wasn't going to be adding to the conversation any time soon.

"This is not your fault," Dean insisted, pushing a little harder. "No one blames you, Sam. No one thinks any less of you… we all thought we were going to lose you! The doctor's told us that you could die, that your heart could just give out because it was beating so fast and… well, I'll only say this once, little brother… you scared the crap out of me. I don't want to lose you, and for a while there I was really scared."

Tears welled in Sam's eyes and Dean hoped it was because he was believing Dean's words.

"You did nothing wrong, Sam," Dean added. "I hope you realise that. We all know you didn't take the drugs, and we know you never would… there was nothing you could have done, okay? You were drugged because some little shit didn't want to be second best, that's all it was… you're hard to keep up with, Sam. You're strong, you're smart, you're fast… and this guy was jealous and stupid and thought he could get away with taking you out of the competition. You've got big shoes to fill… and I don't mean the ones you put your feet into. This guy was just whacked out… he's the one at fault, he's the one responsible, not you… okay?"

Sam didn't answer, he just turned to face the window and Dean sighed. He wasn't sure if he had gotten through to his brother, but he hoped that something he said would make a difference. The driver's door opened and John climbed in.

"You boys okay?" he asked, looking for one son to the other with concern in his eyes.

Dean cleared his throat.

"Just fine, Dad," he assured him, speaking up for Sam.

John frowned.

"You got another headache?" he asked Dean. Dean sighed and nodded. "That's unusual… you've had headaches almost every day this week, haven't you?"

"It's nothing, Dad, I'm fine," Dean assured him. "The pills will kick in soon."

"Will you be right for tonight?" John asked, glancing over his shoulder at Sam. "Maybe you should stay home? Or we could put the hunt off another night?"

Dean winced when he saw his brother shift in his seat. This hunt was important to Sam, and he wasn't going to get in the way of something that could help his brother.

"No, we take care of this thing tonight," Dean insisted. "That thing isn't going to live any longer than today, end of story."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Arriving home, John watched Sam climb out of the car and head inside. He had barely waited for the car to stop before jumping out and John worried that he might not have recovered quite as much as he'd though. He knew that Sam had started getting his appetite back, the doctor had explained that that would happen gradually but it was a good sign just the same. Sam had dived right into the research again, and seemed determined to return to life as they'd known it as quickly as possible. Hunting and all… but he still wasn't talking to them as much John had hoped, he barely said two words to Joshua and Dean, well… he barely spoke to Dean at all and seemed to be avoiding him at all costs – except if it meant being away from Dean for more than a few minutes. Complicated child that he was, Sam refused to let Dean out of his sight even while he refused to speak to him…

John shook his head. It was a new turn of events for him, but Sam was speaking to him more than anyone else. He just wasn't sure why and he wasn't convinced that it was a good sign.

"How is he?" John asked his eldest son, realising Dean hadn't moved either.

"He'll be fine," Dean assured his father. "Just dealing with some stuff, I think."

"What stuff?" John turned in his seat, focussing all his attention on Sam.

"He's blaming himself for this whole mess… the hunts not finished, two more people died, the overdose, the whole thing…" Dean explained, glancing at his father. "He thinks it's his fault that any of this happened."

"He was drugged," John sighed, looking back at the motel room door. "How could that be his fault?"

"You know Sam…"

"Did he tell you that's what he was thinking?" John asked.

Dean shook his head.

"Didn't have to…"

"But… if he's not talking to you, how can you know?"

"Because I know Sam," Dean reminded his father. "It took me a while to work out what was bothering him, but there it is… and I have a feeling that he thinks we blame him too."

"What do we do?" John asked. "Should I go talk to him?"

"No," Dean answered. "Now's not a good time, he doesn't want to talk… I think that this hunt is important to him because he wants to prove himself, so maybe we can just try and encourage him and let him know we're on his side…"

John nodded.

"At least he's talking to me, anyway," John smiled. He saw a flicker of something cross Dean's face and wasn't sure he knew what it meant. He finally decided to ask, but he soon wished he hadn't. "What?"

"Well, I don't think he's talking to you for the reason you think he is," Dean explained gently. He took a deep breath, clearly wishing he didn't have to explain, but John knew he knew better. "Sam's talking to you because he thinks you're disappointed in him already and he's used to it…"

John's heart sank as Dean got out of the car. He wasn't disappointed in Sam, not at all. How could he be when Sam had grown up to be a good kid, smart and strong… a bit headstrung and not always willing to listen or take orders, but he would learn in time, and John was trying to be patient. Okay, he thought. I suck at being patient… but surely Sam didn't think…

"Geez, Sammy," John hissed under his breath before getting out of the car. He was determined to talk to Sam about everything as soon as he saw an opening. He had to convince his son that this stuff wasn't his fault, and that he wasn't disappointed in him!

Dean was right, he realised when he saw Sam buried in the books again. Now wasn't the time, Sam really didn't want to talk…

Later, John decided. After the hunt…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Moonrise

Sam and Dean piled out of the backseat of the Impala, following John and Joshua to the trunk. John pulled out shotguns and handed them around. Everyone checked their weapons, collected torches and hand guns, extra ammunition… whatever they could think of to take with them. They still didn't know what type of Distortion Demon they were dealing with, so they took the main things that could kill or hurt them. And things that wouldn't in case the people controlling the thing turned up…

"Now, we know that holy water and wrought iron has no effect on these things," John reminded them, loading his gun. "But silver and fire seem to slow it down some… it looks like a shadow but it's corporeal – Sam's word, not mine… he's the genius in the family after all. But that means that this thing has a weakness, we just gotta find it."

"Silver knife," Joshua announced, flipping the blade open and then shut it before pocketing it. "And everything's blessed, just for that extra edge."

"Good," John nodded. He turned to Sam. "Anything else you can think of?"

Sam shook his head.

"Most of these things can be wounded, but some of the stronger ones need a ceremony to take it out… some sort of ritual, but they're rare. Some of the weaker ones can be killed by decapitation but only if the blade is silver, otherwise it just… sort of grows another head. There are a few that can be killed or sent back to hell by destroying whatever has control over it, but that's the human's… and it requires burning any dark alters or anything it's attached to," Sam explained quickly, tucking his gun into his waistband and picking up his shotgun. "Other than that, we're up against… well, a shadow. I don't know was exactly will kill this thing, because we don't know what type it is."

"Shouldn't we find out?" Dean asked, still wishing he didn't have to let Sam go in there.

"There's no way to do that without finding out whose controlling it and how… that's one of the biggest problems with these things, they're so ancient that most of the information on them is gone," Sam explained. "They will kill whatever gets in their way, but usually they're killing on command… which means these people who have died have been targeted."

"Right, lets get going," John announced. Everyone checked their weapons and headed into the woods at the points they had worked out earlier.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut briefly, hoping that his headache didn't hit him again. His vision was still dancing and a little jumpy, but it wasn't as bad as earlier. Still, he didn't feel a hundred percent and he was worried about Sam. John seemed to think he'd be okay, but Dean wasn't so sure. Sam was still dealing with some issues, and lack of sleep was one of them.

Something about this hunt really bothered Dean. It had him worried. He had a knot in his stomach that told him something bad was coming, that something horrible was going to happen. He'd been worried about it all day and the minute he got in the car his heart had started racing in his chest.

"Sam, stay close," Dean told him. They were marking out a grid through the woods and Sam was going to be at least ten feet away from Dean most of the time, and he didn't like it. "Don't go too far ahead, okay?"

"Okay Dean," Sam assured him, though the impatience in his tone wasn't lost on Dean. He didn't care how annoyed Sam was about it, Dean would feel a lot better if Sam was nearby and he wasn't planning on letting him get too far away.

"I mean it, little brother," Dean added again, side stepping a broken branch in front of him. He kept his eyes trained ahead, but he couldn't make out more than mere shapes. He wondered if the darkness had gotten deeper somehow, or if it was another result of the migraine attacking him.

Sam didn't answer and Dean swung around to face him. He could see Sam moving up ahead, could make out his shape as he dodged branches of his own and kept his shotgun trained ahead like a good soldier. Dean took a deep breath and looked ahead with his gun at the ready. He had to focus on the hunt and trust his little brother to be okay… and Dean knew he could be there with him in seconds if he needed it.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

It was about ten minutes into the hunt, Sam figured, when he first heard something up ahead that sent his stomach into knots. Something was moving around in the shadow, there was a hissing sound followed by a growl and he knew immediately that they were in for some trouble.

Training his eyes through the darkness, hoping to be able to spot the demon – or whatever threat it proved to be – before it got the jump on him, Sam couldn't help but glance over his shoulder to check on where his brother was. Dean was further behind than Sam had realised, he seemed to be moving slower than normal and Sam wondered if he had really been up to the hunt after all. Dean seemed to bend over at the waist a moment, resting one hand on his knee as if to steady himself, but before Sam could call out a warning to him that they had company, the menacing growl sounded again…

…and it was a lot closer.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John made his way toward the centre of the grid he and Joshua had mapped out, the centre point being where he creature had attacked Sam and Dean almost a week earlier. He held his breath as he moved, constantly having to remind himself to breathe, as anxiety rose in his chest. He was worried about the boys, worried that Sam might not have been ready for this after all. Doubts filled his mind, even as he told himself he was being silly. Sam was a good kid, a good hunter and Dean was right nearby… they'd be fine. They'd come up against this thing once before and Sam had been resourceful enough to fight in off while Dean was injured and unable to help.

And Dean, headaches aside, had recovered well from those injuries. Both the boys had – though John had seen Sam stiffen once or twice when he'd been sitting too long at the desk, wincing as he worked kinks out of sore muscles. Neither of them were quite at their best, he knew, but they had both insisted they were okay… Sam especially. John didn't know why Sam had been so determined to finish this hunt, but he understood it was somehow important to him so he'd agreed and decided he was being over protective. After all, he had come close to losing him not long ago, it was natural for him to be a little weary of letting him hunt… but they had to keep going, had to finish the hunt before others got hurt.

John saw no sign of the creature and started to wonder whether it was going to make an appearance when a sound filled the air that told him he wouldn't have to wait much longer…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Joshua heard a noise that was anything but natural and turned to John right away. John was running along his designated path toward the direction and Joshua knew he was worried about the boys. The sound had coming from that direction and that could only mean one thing…

Whatever it was, was closer to Sam and Dean than they were… and they'd have to run to get there in time to help them.

Joshua was racing through the woods, branches slapping at his face as he ran, jumping over broken branches and whatever other obstacle got in his way. His heart was in his throat, and he could only imagine what was going through John's mind.

He could imagine, but he pushed the thoughts aside and concentrated on the hunt at hand, refusing to let the past interfere with the here and now.

"SAM!" Dean's voice rang out, louder and more afraid than Joshua had ever heard.

BANG!

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean raced further up the track, trying to come alongside his brother as the younger boy ran. Sam was fast, though, and Dean was finding it hard to breathe, hard to focus. He didn't know what that noise was, but it sounded less than natural and it had made Sam hit the ground running. Dean couldn't see what it was, but he could see the fear on his brother's face… this was bad, this was really, really bad.

Sam suddenly changed direction, opting to cross over more rugged terrain and headed toward Dean's direction. They'd have a better chance of taking it on if they were together, Dean knew, so he continued to try and keep up with his brother, hoping to close the gap between them before…

A flash of blinding white light flooded Dean's eyes for a moment and he closed them against it. His eyes burned, his head pounded, but he forced himself to look again. Everything seemed to have slowed down, everything seem to have halted before him and as he saw the creature baring down on his brother, he stopped in his tracks and readied his gun…

"SAM!" Dean yelled, seeing the creature gaining on him. He took aim, realising that the thing was dangerously close to Sam now and he didn't have time to wait, he pulled the trigger…

BANG!

There was a roar… a grunt… a thud…

Dean felt his chest tighten, his heart race and lurch in his chest. His head threatened to explode…

When his knees gave out beneath him, Dean could do nothing to break his fall as the darkness overwhelmed him…

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N – Evil cliffy? Should I leave it there and go shopping? Should I go out for a leisurely stroll? Or should I sit here and continue to write before I get a hundred messages telling me how mean I am?

Let me think on that a minute…