AN: Okay, so in this chapter there is a character that Dean mentioned meeting when he was 19 that I've added into here and kind of just did what I wanted with her. When I got to this year in the story I knew I wanted to use her. She probably doesn't fit the expectations that most people had for her, butI hope this is alright.

They left for North Dakota the day after Sam's last final. Sam, of course, wouldn't go without making a scene, but Bobby made it pretty clear that it was go in the Impala willingly or go in the trunk of his junker unwillingly. Dean had been signed up for the GED classes which started the last week of June. Apparently, Bobby had signed him up before he came down to Arizona, like he always knew the boys would end up staying with him that summer. Bobby tossed a big thick book about studying for this test shortly after Dean had settled himself on the couch when they got to the salvage yard.

"Start reading," Bobby smiled before turning and walking away.

"Dean didn't do homework when he was in school," Sam laughed. "What makes you think he'll even try now?"

"Shut up, Sam," Dean warned. "No one asked your opinion."

"Can I go downtown?" Sam asked rolling his eyes.

"No," Dean answered.

"Not in charge," Sam groaned, following Bobby into the kitchen.

Dean started to flip through the book, he figured he's had a decent grasp on the math part, he was pretty good at math, science wouldn't be too hard, but the history and language arts part, those parts were going to suck. He sighed and turned to the back where there were some example questions. He read through them a couple times before deciding that this was a horrible idea. He pushed himself up to see if Bobby would be able to talk him through some of this nonsense.

"You can't control me, you're not my Dad!" Sam yelled from the kitchen as Dean entered it. Sam pushed by Dean to storm up the stairs.

"He's like a girl on her period," Dean said, raising one eyebrow as he walked toward Bobby. "Only it never ends."

"What do you want, Dean," Bobby sighed. Dean figured that Sam's outburst was the end of an argument. Bobby's expression looked a lot like how Dean felt when he had arguments with his brother.

"I need…" Dean sighed. "I don't think I can do this." Dean dropped the GED book on the table. "I mean, I can do the math part, I can definitely do the math part, but the rest of it, I don't know."

Bobby leaned back against the sink. "What do you need?" he asked. "What makes it easier?"

"Nothin' makes it easier," Dean shook his head. "It's never… it doesn't get easier."

"I remember you strugglin' a little bit when you were in grade school," Bobby replied. "But you always figured it out. How did you do it before you stopped caring?"

Dean stuck his hands in his pockets, looked down to the floor, and shrugged.

"How do you learn, kiddo?" Bobby pressed. "Do you gotta have it read to ya? Hands on? Whatever you need, Boy, I can help you with this. You just gotta tell me what to do."

"Right after…right after I was diagnosed," Dean whispered like he was talking about some horrible flesh eating disease. "I'd have Dad read worksheets to me. He didn't like to do it, told me I should learn to read myself and stuff, but when he'd do it, I could answer the questions pretty good. Or… um… I'd have someone read the questions and I could find the answers in the paper. If I gotta read a novel or something I'm fucked. Cuz I don't test good."

"Like I told ya before, kid," Bobby replied. "They can modify the test for you. All you gotta do it talk to the instructor. Doesn't mean you're any less than anyone else in that room."

"What if they… like… what if I have to read out loud or something to pass?" Dean asked. "Cuz I sound like an absolute retard when I have to do that."

"Practice," Bobby answered. "Sit up in your room and read that book you're sneaking around out loud to the wall, read it to me, read it to your brother. Practice is how you get better at anything."

"I don't want Sammy to know, though," Dean mumbled. "I don't think he knows about most of it, and I would really like to keep it that way."

"Judgin' from the fit Sam just threw," Bobby said pushing himself off the counter and walking toward Dean. "He won't be around all that much this summer. You're smart enough to pass that test on the first try. You're a lot smarter than you think you are. I'm gonna go grab some groceries. Stay here and make sure Sam doesn't do anything stupid."

"Alright," Dean nodded picking up the book off the table.

"Take a practice test," Bobby suggested. "You might surprise yourself."

His class was at seven pm at the community college on the east side of town three days a week. Dean wasn't really sure what to expect, but when he opened the door at 6:55, he was meet with twelve pairs of eyes, each belonging to a person at least twice his age. That made him feel a little better, at least he hadn't waited until he was graying and decaying before getting his GED. The only person in the room even remotely close to his age was the instructor, who was probably twenty-five and definitely a teacher he wouldn't have a problem asking for a little extra help from. She was petite with long dark hair that fell down to her mid-back, and honey colored eyes. Dean snuck himself into a front row seat, a place he never figured he'd ever end up, but if all of his teachers looked like this one, he might not be a high school dropout.

With the group he was with, Dean didn't feel like he was an idiot. The people around him seemed to have less of a grasp on the material than he did, most likely because he was less removed from school than everyone else, but he liked that feeling. He liked being able to raise his hand and answer a question. He hadn't done that since second grade. He liked how the teacher, Miss Hurley, would smile at him when he got it.

During the second week of classes, Dean decided to head to a bar near the campus. He felt like he'd kind of earned it. He was doing really well, passing the practice math tests and understanding most of the material. Going to that dive had absolutely nothing with over hearing his instructor say she was heading there after class, nothing at all. He ordered a beer; the bartender looked at him suspiciously, but never asked for id before passing the bottle over. He went to the dart board in the corner and started throwing, hoping his skills would draw the right kind of attention. Growing up the way he did left him with a very strange set of skills. He might not be able to write poetry or know what the scientific method was, but he could hit a bull's-eye on a dart board with his eyes closed and hustle a pay check out even the most skilled billiard player.

"Are you even old enough to be in here?" a voice asked from behind him. He turned and put on his best smug little smiled.

"My Id says I'm 24," Dean answered, winking at her.

"So what year were you born?" Miss Hurley asked.

Dean lost the smiled as he stared at her blankly. "19… ah Nineteen seventy nin-five."

"Nineteen seventy nine five?" Miss Hurley smiled, Dean felt his ears burning. "Convincing. I'm sure the bartender ate it up."

"Didn't even ask," Dean smiled. "You can't punish me for other people's failings."

"But you'll gladly reap the rewards?" Miss Hurley replied.

"If the reward is beer," Dean smirked. He held up his bottle before taking a short drink.

"You are a strange creature," Miss Hurley laughed. "Old soul, young heart."

"Thanks?" Dean replied. He pointed at her nearly empty glass. "I'll buy you a refill?"

"No," Miss Hurley shook her head. "I'm here with some friends."

"Why not?" Dean put on is best smiled. "It's Friday night, no class tomorrow, you can't let loose and just live a little?"

"You're nineteen," Miss Hurley replied. "And my student. And I'm pretty sure my sister would flip if she saw me talking to you."

"Why?" Dean leaned against the pool table and smiled the smirk he knew girls liked. He'd seen enough of them giggle fall for his charm to know what worked. "You gotta jealous boyfriend or something?"

"No," Miss Hurley replied. "It's just, you're my student, and since you're the youngest one I've ever had, I may have mentioned you."

The smirk on Dean's face grew. "Yeah? You mention anything good?"

She rolled her eyes and looked over to a group of women her age across the bar. "Just that I finally had someone younger in my class. Normally, I have people my age and older. This town, you know, people try to get out, get away, if someone doesn't finish school, they usually don't stick around Sioux Falls; most of 'em head out to California or New York, some really ambitious people head to Minnesota. It's just nice to see someone take charge of their lives early."

Dean nodded.

"This is only my forth class," Miss Hurley continued. "So it's not like I have seen a populous of GED class students, just an observation from growin' up here."

"My uncle's making me," Dean smiled. "Says he won't hire anyone to work at his salvage yard without a diploma." Sometimes Dean surprised himself with how easy the lies flowed out of his mouth. "Doesn't matter how good I am underneath the hood of a car, I gotta have that piece of paper to get paid."

"Well," Miss Hurley replied. "That's responsible of him."

"Can we, do you wanna grab a booth?" Dean thumbed over his shoulder to booths across the way. "If you want to, I mean, it's cool standing in the middle of a bar, too."

"Fine," Miss Hurley bit her bottom lip. "Just let me tell my sister, and grab another drink. I'll be right over."

Dean sat down at only clean booth on that side of the bar and watched Miss Hurley and her friends at the bar. Eventually she made her way back over and sat across from him, a skeptical smile on her face.

"So," Miss Hurley said. "Why did a smart boy like you not finish high school?"

Dean looked up at her through his lashes. "I was in a car wreck a little over a year ago," Dean lied the one that Sam had told everyone when he got hurt made the most sense. "Busted up my leg pretty good. I was in a medically induced coma for, like, two months. Then I was in physical therapy for quite a while. Missed a lot of school, and I didn't want to be in high school til I was twenty five, so I just dropped out."

"You wouldn't have been in high school forever," Miss Hurley chuckled. "You seem like a bright kid, could have caught up real quick, I bet."

"You've only known me for two weeks, Miss Hurley," Dean replied leaning back in the booth. "I'm not exactly the bright student you think I am. I'll find a way to disappoint you; in the classroom, anyway."

"Doubtful," Miss Hurley smiled. "You can call me Rhonda while were here, seems a little too formal to keep calling me Miss Hurley."

The two sat in that bar talking about pretty much everything. Dean really liked this girl, she was more than just a pretty face. He felt like this was the kind of girl that he could take back to Bobby's and introduce to Sam. His little brother could have smart people conversations with her over dinner. There was no way Sam could meet this girl scoff and call Dean shallow. They talked about pretty much anything, the fake car accident, how she got into teaching, why she choice to teach GED classes instead of regular school, Dean talked about Sam, it was nice, normal.

When the bartender announced last call, Dean escorted her to her car. He leaned up against the side and hoped for the best.

"This was fun," Dean smirked. "You should let me take you out sometime."

"Yeah, no," Rhonda shook her head. "You're sweet and everything, Dean, but no."

"What?" Dean chuckled. "You didn't have a nice tonight?"

"It was," Rhonda smiled. "I had a great time, but going further isn't a good idea. Not right now."

"Come on, babe," Dean smirked, leaning forward until their lips met.

"Whoa," Rhonda pushed away. "Do you not understand 'no.' Because I'm pretty sure I said it like five times."

"Yeah, but your eyes…"

"Also said no," Rhonda cut in. "This is why I don't date kids."

"Babe…"

"Call me 'Babe' again," Rhonda said opening her door so that it was between her and Dean. "And you'll be having bigger problems than rejection."

"I'm sorry," Dean mumbled. "I… I don't know… I thought you were just playing hard to get or something. You were flirting with me all night and stuff. I thought we had something/"

"Well, we didn't," Rhonda said, glaring. "And I'll see you in class Monday."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Alright. I'm sorry."

"Just a tip," Rhonda added as Dean started to turn away. "When a girl says no, it means no. They're no 'hard to get' she doesn't want it. Remember that."

"Yes ma'am," Dean nodded. "I'm sorry. I'll see you on Monday."

Deans stepped away from the car as she got in and slammed the door shut, thinking to himself that he was probably the biggest idiot of all time.

Dean felt like a complete dick the next morning. He did really like Rhonda, thought she was amazing. He wanted to get to know her, biblically sure, but also on a personal level, meet the sister that was giving him the stink eye across the bar the night before, wanted her to meet Sam. It wasn't like he was imagining their wedding day or anything; he just wanted to be friends. He pulled the GED book from under his bed and started to flip through the Language arts section, Miss Hurley said they'd be starting that section Monday.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean called across the room. "Can you help me with this?"

"What?" Sam rolled his eyes he walked across the room and sat at end of Dean's bed.

"I don't understand what this means," Dean said handing Sam the book, pointing out the section that he was having difficulty with.

"What's not to get," Sam raised his eyebrow and looked over to his brother. "Read the section answer the questions."

"What does that mean?" Dean said seriously. "Like, what does it want?"

"It wants you to explain the symbolism featured in the section," Sam said slowly.

"What symbolism?" Dean asked.

"Did read the thing?" Sam asked handing the book back. "Cuz I'm not doin' your homework for you."

"I read it," Dean defended. "It's talking about some stupid tree in a field and people going to the tree to get what they need from the tree. There's no symbols."

"Tree's the symbol, dumbass," Sam rolled his eyes. "Did you really miss that many English classes? That's kinda basic shit."

"I never learn any of this crap," Dean hit his head against the wall behind his bed, pulled his knees closer to his chest. "When did you learn it?"

"I don't know," Sam shrugged. "Grade school, I guess. It's just one of those things I've always known how to do. You just have to look passed the words on the page and see the actual meaning of the story."

"I'm gonna fall this fucking test," Dean sighed.

"Ask your teacher for help," Sam said, standing up. "They can probably explain it better that I could."

Dean shrugged and pulled his book back into his lap. "I'll figure it out, I guess."

"Is this part of you're learning disability?" Sam asked. "You can't think analytically?"

"Shut up," Dean mumbled, running a pencil over the questions as he read them. "I'm trying to work."

"No seriously," Sam said.

"I don't even know what that means," Dean replied. "So probably. Just leave me alone, I'll figure it out."

"You asked for help, dumbass," Sam chuckled. "If you want help I'll help you. What do you need?"

"I need you to stop making fun of me," Dean sighed. "And go away. I'll figure it out myself. I shouldn't have asked you in the first place."

"I wasn't making fun of you, I was answering your question," Sam defended.

"Yeah, well," Dean looked up and stared his brother dead in the eyes. "You're not helping."

Sam shrugged and walked out of the room, slamming the door, leaving Dean alone to try to figure out the problems himself. He'd figure out a way to do this himself. He had to. Failing this test would prove that he was just as stupid as he always thought he would. Passing would prove to everyone that he wasn't, that he was capable.

Dean eventually found his way down stairs for lunch. Sam had taken off for the day, just him a Bobby around the salvage yard.

"You said if I needed help," Dean mumbled. "That I could ask you."

"What do you need kiddo?" Bobby asked taking a seat next to him.

"Sam said this is supposed to be super easy," Dean said pointing to the tree story. "That I'm just supposed to pick out the symbols and explain what they mean, but I don't see any symbols. It's just a story about a tree."

"Okay," Bobby nodded. "What do you want me to do?"

"Is there, I don't know, a way to explain this better?" Dean asked. "I just don't get it. I can do, like, what are the major themes and who are the characters, but this abstract crap, I don't get it."

Bobby read it over and handed the book back to Dean.

"I can't really explain it without giving you the answers," Bobby said. "Whatcha want me to do?"

"Just," Dean sighed, he didn't want to get mad at Bobby, he just wanted to understand this stupid assignment. "Just never mind. I'll figure it out."

He stood up from the table and stormed off. Bobby probably called after him, but Dean wasn't paying attention. He went off to find something to hit.

Thursday night after class Miss Hurley called Dean over to her desk. Dean felt his stomach drop, he knew he'd been doing very poorly in class recently, and he was kind of afraid that she was going to call him out about what happened the weekend before.

"What's up with you lately?" Rhonda asked after everyone else filled out of the room. "You're not being that bright young man from the first few weeks of class. "

Dean shrugged and looked down at her desk. He hadn't had a one on one with a teacher since sixth grade when he jumped the kid that sat in front of him at recess for calling him names while he was trying to read a passage aloud from their history books.

"Talk to me," Rhonda said. "What's going on? Something up with your brother?"

Dean shook his head.

"Does this have something to do with last weekend?" Rhonda asked. "Because honestly, Dean, you shouldn't let that bother you, it doesn't bother me."

"No," Dean said. "I mean, I feel bad about it, but that's not it. I just think that this… this stuff's too hard. I got no chance of passing this test if it's like this."

"What do you mean?" Rhonda asked.

"You have my file, you know," Dean shrugged. "I can't do this. This is why I dropped out in the first place."

"Dean," Rhonda said firmly as Dean started to turn to leave. "This is basic stuff."

"Yeah, I know," Dean shouted. "Everyone keeps tellin' me that, which, big surprise, doesn't help. I don't understand it."

"Were you held back at all?" Rhonda pressed calmly.

"Don't you have my frickin' file?" Dean's voice evened out but he was still on the verge of yelling. "Yeah, I was in fourth grade."

"Why?" Rhonda asked.

"Cuz I'm frickin' stupid," Dean replied. "I couldn't keep up with everyone else so I got held back. And I could barely keep up then, but we moved around enough that sometimes I could pass it off as I just hadn't learned it yet and I skated by. It wasn't really a problem until I got in that wreck."

"Why couldn't you keep up?" Rhonda pressed.

"Don't you have my school records?" Dean asked again. "It's all in there."

"It's a thick folder," Miss Hurley replied. "Summarize."

"When I was in third grade my teacher realized I couldn't read," Dean sighed. "So I had to go through all this stupid special ed tests and they found out I had dyslexia and that's why I can't read, but I'm really good at math cuz there aren't any words. I can read. Just not like everyone else. My brother, he read the whole Lord of the Rings in, like a month, all three. It took me, like, a year."

"Why didn't you say anything before now?"

"Because you're the teacher," Dean replied. "You have my school file. It's in there somewhere. Look, I'm just gonna get out of here. I don't need you lookin' down on me like everyone else does."

He turned to leave when she grabbed his hand.

"Dean," Rhonda sighed. "Look at me. Just listen, for a minute okay. If you need help, they can modify the test for you. You just have to say something or I can't do anything. If you need help, all you gotta do is ask."

"Everyone says that," Dean shook his head. "But when I actually ask I just get told I should be able to do it without help. That what I'm asking for help on is simple, that anyone could do it. But I can't figure it out. There's no fucking symbols in that story. It's about a tree."

"The tree represents life," Rhonda said calmly. "It's a story about life."

"But that's not what it was asking," Dean said, teeth clenched tightly. "It was asking about symbols. This is stupid."

"Calm down, okay," Miss Hurley said, rubbing her thumb over his hand. "I'll work with you if you want. We can work before class if you want, or after."

"You're just gonna tell me I'm stupid," Dean said. "My uncle, he told me he'd help, but when I asked he said he couldn't help me without givin' me the answers. I asked Sam to help, but he just laughs."

"I get paid to help people pass this test, Dean," Rhonda said. "Like, literally, that's my job. If you want help, I can help you. It's not that big of a deal. I've worked with people who have a bigger disadvantage than you do."

Dean sighed and looked her in the eye. "You promise?"

"Yeah, you said you read Lord of the Rings?"

Dean nodded. "A couple years ago, yeah."

"That's a pretty difficult series," Miss Hurley smiled. "Lots of characters, weird names, but you liked it?" Dean nodded. "But you probably couldn't write me an essay about it, right?"

"I read it three years ago," Dean replied. "But no, when I read it I couldn't have written one either."

"Okay, easy enough to work with," she pulled a pen out of her desk drawer and wrote something on a scrap of paper and handed it to him. "This is my phone number. Call me tomorrow, and we'll set up a time that works for you to meet and I'll tutor you."

"Okay," Dean nodded. "I'll do that."

"You're not stupid, Dean," Rhonda smiled. "You just have to believe in yourself. Maybe you need a cheerleader."

"Maybe," Dean mumbled.

"You have the brain to pass this," Rhonda continued. "I don't want to have you in my class a second time, you're too bright to think so little of yourself. Call me tomorrow afternoon. We'll set up lunch or something, and we'll work on the language arts part."

"Yeah, okay, Miss Hurley," Dean held the paper up. "I'll do that. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

He turned and left after waving goodnight, clinching the paper tight in his hand. This was his ticket to proving himself. He smiled as he got into his car. He might be able to do this after all.

AN2: I have plans for Rhonda to make her that girl that Dean talks about in The End in the next chapter. I didn't want her to be just a random girl at a bar, I wanted her to have substance and a real connection with him. I feel that there's a lot more to Dean than one night stands.