"Shit!" Dean snapped his pencil and chucked it across the cafeteria. Sam had joined some mathlete club and now Dean had to wait for him for an extra hour every day after school. At first he'd used this as an opportunity to chat up the girls he'd become familiar with, but as they became familiar with him—and his horrible academic standing—they'd become less interested. So it had come to this: sitting here alone while other kids played sports and trying to figure out what the hell was going on in Math class.

He stared at the formula in the text book. It stared right back at him, as unchanging as ever.

"I mean really, what are the real world applications to this?"

"Well, if you're ever trying to throw a baseball between two moving trains it might be useful."

He looked up sharply to see his math teacher standing above him. "But sometimes you need to wade through the seemingly useless stuff to get to the good stuff."

"I don't think there is any good stuff in math," Dean admitted when his teacher took a seat on the bench next to him.

"Touché. Dean, I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to catch up to you until now. I've noticed you're struggling in class. You must not have gotten to this unit at your old school."

His old school...that place he was before Christmas break and the hunt for the wendigo? He didn't even remember the name let alone what they'd been learning in math. Besides, that had been a good four months ago, he was more than one unit behind. He didn't voice any of this aloud but let out a sigh and rested his head in his hands.

"It doesn't matter anyhow," he muttered.

"And why's that?"

"I'm not gonna go to college or anything."

"Dean, you shouldn't sell yourself short."

"I'm not." He raised his head. "I've got bigger plans than wasting four years getting some useless degree."

"Good." His teacher smiled instead of questioning the statement. "I'm glad to hear it, but right now, you have to get past this hurtle. Maybe I can help you."

"I doubt it." Dean made to shut his text but the teacher caught it. The middle aged man smiled over his glasses at the teen.

"I didn't peg you for a quitter, Dean."

"Oh don't try that reverse psychology crap on me."

"I'm not—you're the one who was sitting here on your off time trying to improve—I simply want to help."

Dean didn't find any quick retort and he let the book fall open again. When he said nothing, his teacher continued, pointing at the problem and then indicating Dean's errors. By the time Sam came to meet him he'd solved the first question and gathered a fairly good understanding of the concept. His teacher rose and left when he saw Sam.

The brothers walked home in a much more comfortable silence that evening.

"Did you know that we have to have mid-terms?" Dean asked Sam who had his nose in a book.

"Yeah, what do you think I've been studying for all week?!"

"What school has mid-terms? I never had them before."

"You probably never even noticed. Just study, alright?"

"What good is it anyway? We'll just be gone in a few days."

"I don't know Dean, but you've been putting in a lot of work lately, don't you want to see that pay off somehow? Don't you want to try to get a good mark?"

Dean thought about this and sat back on the bed that was strewn with Sam's notes on all his courses.

"I don't know, I've never really taken a test seriously, well, not for a long time anyway."

"That's 'cause Dad's always taking you out of school. I think you should try, you'd get something good on your school record at least, in case you ever do want to go to college."

"Trust me I don't." He sucked back on the cold pop he'd gotten from the machine outside, but he contemplated his book bag by the door. "But I guess, if I've already done this much I might as well give it a shot."

"Yeah," Sam encouraged.

"Fine, I guess I can study for a few nights, it's not like the porn is any good on these channels."

"EEEEW DEAN!"

It was Saturday, and they were at school. Every fibre Dean had resisted getting out of bed before noon, but Sam had stood beside him poking him and warning him he'd go alone if Dean didn't get up. So here they were, a football stadium, cheering on their team. Well, at least Sam was, several rows down sharing popcorn with the little blonde girl he'd befriended on the first day. Did the kid even know he was putting the moves on her when she shivered and he gave her his coat? Probably not, Sam was way too naive.

Dean watched the plays—football was their standard Christmas viewing and John had been an avid fan before the night Mary died. Bobby had also taught the boys a thing or two about the game. It seemed Sam had listened as Dean watched him explain a play to his friend.

"Ugh."

"Football not your thing?"

He looked up and saw three of the students from his math class. He didn't even know their names and it had been two weeks.

"No I just...it was a bad play," he recovered.

"Oh." She sat next to him, a small brunette with silver and black streaks on her cheeks showing her support for the team. Behind her another two guys sat down. "I'm Jodie," she introduced herself, "this is Jake," she nodded to the one at the end, "and my boyfriend, Kent." She squeezed the hand of the burly guy next to her.

"Dean," he responded though since he was the new kid they already knew that.

"So how is Lakewood High treating you?" Kent asked.

"Fine I guess." Dean was still not sure what was up with them—usually a girl didn't bring her boyfriend along to chat him up.

"I see you and Mr. O'Brian after school sometimes," Jodie commented. Dean felt his face flush.

"Well I-"

"He's the best!" she interrupted and Dean realized he wasn't being criticized. "I didn't understand relations at all last semester and he gave up all his noons for a week until I got it."

"I think it's 'cause his wife left him," Jake added. "Now school's all he has."

"That's sad," Jodie said.

And just like that, Dean had gotten into a group. They sat there and discussed the backgrounds of all the teachers, which ones they thought were having affairs, who did weed and other scandals. They talked about upcoming events they were looking forward to and gave all the inside scoops on their classmates.

That Monday they sat with him a lunch. The next day he and Jake discovered in machine class they both had a love for classic cars and talked at length about their favourite models.

By Friday, Dean never wanted to leave.

"You are ready for mid terms right?" Sam warned him, knowing he was spending more time with his friends than studying now.

"Yeah, what, are you checking up on me now?"

"Hey, I just don't want you to blow it after all the time you put into studying."

"Actually..." Dean seemed to hesitate to admit this, "sometimes we group study at noon."

Sam looked at him, then suppressed a laugh. "That's a good thing, Dean."

"Yeah well, it feels wrong." He pretended not to like that he was fitting in, had academically conscious friends who had taught him as much as his teachers by now. But his brother knew differently.

"Okay I was just checking."

"Well what about you? How's the love life going?" Sam blushed deeply. Dean beamed. "She's your girlfriend isn't she?"

"So what if she is?"

"So you should call her and invite her out tomorrow. We're going sailing."

"What, we are?"

Dean nodded. "Jodie's Dad owns a boat on the lake, she invited us along."

"Me too?"

"Dad wants us to stick close so yeah, you too, the others are cool with it."

"Awesome!" Sam ran over to the phone to dial Abby. Dean stretched back on the bed, smiling at his brother's awkward tones on the phone.

And in that moment, he was truly happy.

After a weekend of sun and wind and a little bit of beer that Jake managed to sneak on board, the boys returned to their studies. Neither had ever gone sailing before. Both made a mental promise to do it again someday. Monday rolled around. Dean walked away from a social studies and English mid-term, fairly confident he'd passed both. Sam was sure he'd gotten A's. It was Wednesday that loomed before Dean—his math exam. Mr. O'Brian had spent even longer hours with him trying to help him grasp terms from earlier in the semester. It was getting hard for Dean to make up excuses about why he'd never encountered any of that material before. Tuesday night Sam started to fall asleep while his brother was still studying—something that had never happened before.

"Dean if you don't know it by now-" he started.

"Just go to sleep, Sammy."

Sam smiled at his back, glad to see him taking school seriously—hopeful Dean might see another path for his life someday too. He drifted off still watching his brother hunched in work.

Then the phone rang.

"Dad?" Dean had scooped the receiver out of the cradle in an instant.

"I need you to meet me a mile east of the Lake."

"Now?"

"Yes now, Dean. What, you have something more pressing going on?"

Dean hesitated, eyes on his text book, his scribbles of calculations he'd poured hours into. Then he shook his head even though his father couldn't see.

"No, of course not, sorry sir, I'll be there."

"Take a gun, silver bullets. Shoot any dog you see."

"Got it."

He hung up and pulled on his coat, cocking his gun and pushed it under his waistband.

"Dean..." Sam rubbed his eyes and glanced between Dean's hard work spread out over the desk and his brother preparing to leave. "You have to go?"

"I'll be back. You get some sleep, you have a big test tomorrow."

"But you do too."

"I'll finish this up as soon as possible," he said and headed for the door. "Keep locked up, and do not pet any dogs."

"Got it." The motel door shut firmly. Sam hurried over to slide the deadbolt in place. He watched his brother disappear into the night with a sinking heart.

"Shit Dad they didn't bite you did they?" Dean asked when he saw all the blood coursing from John's knee.

"If they did I'd have put a silver bullet through my own skull," John answered cooly. Dean ignored the statement, mostly because he knew it was true.

"So just scratches then?" Dean made a grab for the medical kit in the back seat but his father stopped him.

"I'll be fine but I can't run as fast now. That's why I need you. I got them all except one, it's wounded, you should be able to catch it. I'll follow with the car but when it gets into the trees that's up to you."

"Got it." Dean geared up with several guns and silver knives then got in the passenger seat, ready to bolt as soon as they saw signs of the beast. They rolled down a dark road, windows down, ears and eyes open, watching every bush and shrub for a shake.

"There." Dean had a flashlight, it glinted off dark blood on several low hanging leaves.

"Go!"

Dean was out of the car at the word. He bolted into the bushes, at once consumed by the dark. His flashlight bounced back off hundreds of leaves, he couldn't see more than a foot in front of him. Low growling warned him he was close, it must have been very injured to have been lying in wait so close to its own blood but when Dean thought he was close he heard another snarl and then a yelp and snapping trees. It had bolted.

"Dammit." He ran as fast as he could through the whipping branches and uneven ground. He knew he'd lost it after an hour and eventually he stumbled back out onto the road where John met him in the impala.

"It broke out ten minutes ago," he scolded. Dean was so winded and tired he almost snapped back a retort but he caught himself and just slumped into the car while John took them on down the road. Dean recognized this place from the nice houses and their proximity to the lake—this was Jodie's neighbourhood. But they cleared the area within an hour and then they were onto another chunk of woods and Dean was cursing himself for getting out of shape the last three weeks. Hour by hour they tracked the wounded animal, Dean losing sense of time and place in his exhaustion. The sun was creeping up on the horizon. He started to nod off when John drove them on for a stretch. Numbers and equations popped before his eyes. Then he started awake at a yell from his father and he was out of the car again.

He saw it, finally, after all night of hunting it he could at least see his prey now. They got lost in a hilly wood. It was a rottweiler, Dean hoped it kept running and didn't turn back his way. They crested a hill, he should have glimpsed the open field below, the stadium seats visible through the trees but he didn't. He only saw the heaving flanks of the skinwalker. He raised his gun and aimed. The shot went wide, it dove over a fallen tree and Dean struggled to keep up. He shot again, barely missing this time. When he made for the third shot it skidded to a halt and he knew he was in trouble.

It lunged on him.

They had run up the steep bank, and now they were falling down the other side of it. Dean held onto it as tight as possible, his elbow wrapped under its chin so it couldn't bite him, but back legs scratched out and penetrated his jeans. He hollered and when his back hit a tree he let go. They fell apart. Dean struggled to stand and skidded the rest of the way down the loose ground to where it met pavement. He searched for a weapon that hadn't come lose in the fall. A knife was all he had left. He crouched low. The dog was ahead of him, it seemed to be deciding what to do—attack or flee.

"Come on!"

Dean was the one to make the move. He lunged and plunged the knife into its side. Not good enough, it wasn't dead, it reeled on him. He got the knife back out but not before it pinned him. He succeeded in holding it back however, the new injury was taking its toll and it wriggled away from him, trotting with a limp through a parking lot. Dean ran. He was so close.

Only after he'd run out of the last bit of woods, filthy and holding a bloody knife did he realize where his chase had taken him.

"No..." He came to a dead stop in the front yard of their school. The skinwalker was still limping away, students were yelling out for help for the injured animal. And then they stopped, because they all saw Dean, weapon in hand.

"AH!" Someone screamed. Some people ran. But most people just stood there and put two and two together.

"You stabbed this poor dog?" His heart ached at the voice. He didn't want to turn, he didn't want to see Jodie's face. He lowered the knife.

"You don't understand..."

"What's there to understand?" Kent roared but it was Jake who grabbed Dean by the front of his shirt and twisted his wrist until he let go of the knife.

"Jake-"

"Shut up!" He was winded by the uppercut to his gut and fell forward when he was released. He saw the dog slink off but he couldn't chase it now, not like this. He felt all their eyes burning into him. He heard the shouts for teachers and the principal. Then he saw him, Mr. O'Brian, pushing his way forward. But he didn't say anything. He just came to a stop before Dean where he gasped for breath on the ground. Dean rose slowly and met his eyes.

"Winchester!" The principal's voice boomed over the crowd. Students parted. Dean caught Sam in the crowd and gave the smallest nod. He watched his brother withdraw his hand from his girlfriend's and whisper one word, sorry. Then he disappeared toward the back of the crowd before anyone remember he was Dean's brother.

"What's going on?"

People began to babble. The Principal took hold of Dean, the Vice-Principal on his other side just in case. But the teen had gone cold, he felt a devastation he'd never experienced before. And just before the rumble of the Impala parted the crowds, Mr. O'Brian finally spoke.

"Why, Dean?"

Dean just looked at him. Mr. O'Brian took a step back. Then John was out of the car, Sam already hunched in the back seat. He muscled his way through the crowd, shoved the principal's hand away from his son. Dean followed him back to the car like a robot. No one spoke, no one challenged them. Dean turned his head, just before he was shoved in the passenger seat, and saw them, the three of them standing together, the shock and horror on their faces.

And then he turned away.

"I got it just behind the school," John informed him. Dean barely heard. "You should have ended it in the woods."

"I know," he just said dully, rubbing his stomach where Jake had punched him.

"Dean?" John gave him a sideways glance. "You didn't get bit or something did you?" It didn't even occur to their father how being labelled a freak by the entire school might upset Dean.

"No."

"Well let's grab our stuff from the motel and get out of here."

They packed quickly. Dean stopped in front of his math books. He pushed them into the garbage.

"Dean..." Sam had remained in stunned silence the whole time. "Sorry."

"For what?" His brother shot bitterly. "It's not like it meant anything. School just teaches you bullshit, nothing I'll ever need when I'm hunting."

Sam watched him walk away and toss his weapons in the trunk of the Impala before slumping in the front seat with their father. He shut the door on the motel as he hurried out to join them, and they drove away from the one place where the brothers had been normal, happy and hopeful for a future without monsters.

Oops, I thought I had uploaded the rest of this one but apparently not! Sorry for such a long delay! And I do have more stories so this will not be the last one. Next time: When Sam falls ill, John turns his anger on Dean.

Thanks for reading,

Riza