Disclaimer: another day, another no

A/N: Howdy folks! It's been a bit, I know, but I was trying to get a bit of a back-up of stories. It didn't work too well... I finished the story I'm posting tonight about three days ago, and then I've started about half a dozen other stories. Haha... which I should finish up soon. Anyways, the only reason I'm posting this story is because of JJ Phoenix, and the review I was given. It just made me smile, and remember once more who I was really writing for. So all thanks this time around go to JJ Phoenix!
Ok... so before we get into todays story, I want to give a small warning. No, not a death fic, but this story is a really serious topic. I've seen it done quite a few times before, and some of them weren't done too well. It's hard, I realize, to do a serious topic and make it seem a- realisitc, and b- not mocking. So in conclusion, I'm kindda scared about this story, and if you all really don't like, I can take it off. Either way... read on faithful readers... read on...

Title: The Harder They Fall
Genre: Tragedy and angst
Summary: It seemed like any normal day at school for the 17 year old Winchester until he went to lunch and a kid with a gun decided to change everyone's life...

The Harder They Fall

With a sigh Sam picked up his books from the desk and shoved them in his bag. It was the longest that Sam had stayed at any one high school in the past two years; a full seven months-- but this was his last day there. The youngest Winchester was seventeen, a senior at Frost High, and was happily enjoying his extended stay at a school. Finally he had made friends and started to feel normal for once when his Dad told him that it was time to pack up. Sam fought it, but John had insisted they needed to move on to a place in southern Georgia. Sam was mad to say the least; he had started the high school at almost the beginning of the year, and was hoping dearly he could graduate with his friends.

"I'm sorry Sam," John had spoke, "But we have to go."

The simple statement ended with a loud argument and fight from Sam that lasted to the current day. The youngest had refused to talk to his Dad in a meager attempt to show him how angry he was, though that did nothing but make his Dad more mad. Which in turn caused Dean to also become increasingly angry with his little brother.

"Do you really have to go after today?" Sam was jostled back to reality as his best friend Josh took up stride beside him in the hallway.

"Yeah," Sam sighed.

"That sucks," Josh spoke sadly, "I mean, I'd ask my Mom if you could stay with us until graduation, but she's still pissed about me going out drinking last weekend."

Sam grinned at the memory, "Yeah, my Dad still doesn't know about that one. Neither does Dean, but I'm thinking he'd be more proud of me."

"No kidding," Josh laughed, "Mr. 4.0 grade-point going out partying… even I was impressed man."

Sam smiled as he paused in front of the cafeteria door, "You going to skip bio?"

"Sure," Josh shrugged, "I already know the anatomy of a female."

Sam rolled his eyes and opened the door. Josh's lunch period was a full half hour after Sam's, but it had become a nearly daily ritual for Josh to skip his class and join his friend for lunch. As the teens walked in, Sam weaved his way through the crowded room and to a table situated in the far right corner. Thumping his bag onto the table, Sam dug through it for his wallet. The past many mornings had played a pattern of Sam getting up and leaving the apartment before Dean or his Dad awoke, and so the youngest didn't have time to make his lunch but rather opted for buying.

"Want me to grab you something?" Sam questioned after successfully finding his wallet.

Josh stared at him in mock hurt as he sat at the table, "Do you just assume that I do not have a lunch of my own?"

Sam grinned, "What do you want?"

Josh grinned, "Just a sandwich," then called as Sam walked off towards the lineup, "That's another I owe you Sammy!"

Sam turned around and glared at the use of the word Sammy, and quickly got a smug look shot back from Josh. Sam was standing in line, idly thinking of a way to get back at his friend when suddenly a scream came from the far end of the cafeteria near the door. The Winchester turned around just in time to hear a single shot from a gun ring out.

"Get down! Everyone get down!"

Sam had no idea who yelled the order, but followed in suit with everyone else as he fell to the ground. Immediately Sam began to take in his surroundings, his hunter instincts scanning the situation. His head spinning, Sam closed his eyes and forced his breath to come out evenly. All the hunting training in the world could have never prepared him for this.

"No one is leaving! Got that?!"

Sam lifted his head up just enough to see a kid who looked no older than he was wrap a chain around the doors to the cafeteria and lock it. Turning his head, Sam then spotted Josh ducked underneath the table they were at looking terrified. Dean, during his rambunctious years at high school, had been suspended a total of three times on account of bringing a knife to school, and so Sam had decided against the approach. The only form of protection Sam had was his skills in martial arts, and he was pretty sure a bullet would beat him any day on that one.

"Now if you're all real quiet, and don't move, maybe only one of you will die!" the person turned around completely, and Sam spotted a 9mm pistol clutched in his hand.

"Mark!" another voice entered the still air, and students clamored in their positions to see someone stand up.

Sam recognized the person as his fifth period geography teacher; Mr. Edwards. Slowly, with his arms out in front of him, Mr. Edwards moved past the students, and into the open.

"Edwards," Mark laughed, "Trying to be the hero?"

"Mark, you don't want to do this," Mr. Edwards spoke slowly, "Just let everyone here go."

Mark pretended to think for a moment before a smile returned to his features, "No."

"Why are you doing this?" Mr. Edwards took a different approach.

"Why?" Mark acted as if this was an absurd question, "Why do you care now why I'm doing things?"

Sam listened with interest and morbid curiosity. He'd heard recently on the news of another school shooting, and had lazily watched a special one night on it. The reporter described the shooter as a loner in school; someone who was constantly picked on and tormented in school. A kid who felt he had no one, and who was unpopular with other students. But that was the thing… Mark wasn't like that. Through his months at the school, Sam had learned names in passing-by, and knew Mark as one of the more popular kids. He was the leader of a pack of students who idolized him and wanted to be just like him.

Hopefully not in times like these.

"Why don't you just let these people go, and we'll talk about this," Mr. Edwards suggested.

"Why don't you go in the back there and have yourself a good time with tomorrow's lunch special?" Mark shot back.

Mr. Edwards took a step forward, his arm held out towards the gun, "Mark… hand me the gun."

Without warning, another shot rung out, and Mr. Edwards fell limply to the ground in a crumpled heap.

"Sure… we'll start with the bullets."

"No!" Sam instinctively cried out with the other students at the image of his teacher falling.

Without thinking, Sam got up and took two large steps towards the fallen man.

"Where do you think you're going Winchester?" Mark held the gun out at Sam now.

Sam stopped in his tracks; a mixture of fear for his life, and curiosity at the fact that Mark knew who he was washing through him, "I just want to help him."

"Yeah, I doubt he'll give you an A if you save his life," Mark scoffed, "Why don't you get back where you belong."

"Please," Sam spotted Mr. Edwards stir slightly, "Just let me help him…"

When Mark didn't say anything, Sam moved the few more feet to his teacher and crouched down. Blood pooled thickly on the floor, and Sam moved back Mr. Edwards arm to reveal a bullet hole pierced right through the left side of his chest. Sam's breath caught in his throat; it was a clean shot-- he was going to bleed out in less than a minute.

"Can't save him can you?" Mark seemed amused by this fact as Sam moved back.

"Why?" anger pulsed through Sam as he wiped the blood onto his shirt.

"It's kindda simple," Mark still held the gun out towards Sam, a multitude of students now openly crying, "When I was in grade six there was a bunch of kids in grade eight that I wanted to hang out with. But, if I wanted to, I had to break into this old ladies home and steal something. So I did."

Sam's eyes were wide as realization struck him, "This is an initiation?"

"Bingo," Mark grinned, "A blond hair, blue eyed bitch. Edwards there was just a bonus."

"What?" Sam swallowed hard, "You… you're doing this just to get into a club?"

"Yeah, that must be it," Mark's face washed blank, "And there's no ass-wipes allowed, so why don't you go back with your little buddies Winchester. I'll find my bitch, and then the rest of you can remember this as the day you watched someone die."

Sam hesitated a moment as he backed up slowly, but decided against playing with the unstable man and once again returned to his place on the floor.

"Ok!" Mark turned his attention back on the room as a whole, "What blond haired chick wants to sacrifice herself and be the hero?"

Strangled sobs echoed out as people fitting the description for the person Mark had to kill hid in corners or further under tables. Almost immediately after taking another step forwards, a loud, shrill siren erupted from outside.

"Ok, so who was the smart ass who went and called them?" Mark frowned as he peered out the window at the numerous cop cars, ambulances and fire trucks now parked in the school lawn.

Sam wanted to call out that it was probably the other hundred and some-odd people in the school that called for help, but he was pretty sure he'd be dead before he got to hear any witty retort back. Added to that, Mark was now clearly getting more agitated, and looking down, he grabbed a girl up by her blond hair.

"You," Mark studied her for a moment, "You got blue eyes bitch?"

Instead of answering, the girl looked up at Mark, tears swimming in her now realized blue eyes.

"Perfect," Mark smiled again and cocked his gun.

"No!" the scream echoed from all the way from the other side, and Sam swung his head around; a cold feeling forming in the pit of his stomach as Josh stood to his feet.

"You want to die too?" Mark pointed his gun towards Josh now.

"Not Erin!" Josh called out, his arms stretched out feebly, "Please!"

"Josh no!" Sam hissed out, immediately recognizing the blond girl as Josh's girlfriend, "Get down!"

"No," Josh had tears crawling down his face, "No… not Erin."

Sam slowly crept towards where Mark was, unnoticed by the fixed gunman. If he could just make it close enough, Sam had decided he'd try and get the gun away. There was no way the Winchester was going to let any more people die.

"Josh…" Erin's strangled sob came from her mouth as Mark continued his death grip on her scalp.

"Oh Josh," Mark mocked, "Save me… won't you save me Josh."

"Leave her alone," Josh breathed out, "Just-just take me."

"No Josh!" both Sam and Erin yelled at the same time.

"Well the votes are in on that one," Mark grinned widely, and pulled the trigger; Josh's scream of pain echoing almost louder than the gun as he fell to the ground.

Screams and cries deafened anyone in the area, and Sam took the momentary shocked look from Mark as a sign to make his move. With his trained speed, Sam got up and bolted over to the teen; tackling him away from Erin and onto the floor. A solid punch landed to the side of Mark's face as Sam grabbed the gun from his hand.

"You're going to die Winchester!" Mark cried out, struggling against Sam's strong grip.

"No one else is going to die," Sam hissed out, and landed another punch square in the jaw of the chaos maker.

Dean had been making fun of Sam incessantly for the past many months over his recent growth spurt, though it now came in handy as Sam straddled overtop of Mark while using his hands to quickly open the gun and take out the remaining bullets. Almost immediately after doing so a loud blast came from the doors which instantly knocked inwards with a loud bang. A dozen men with vests reading SWAT on it came barging into the room of terrified people followed by medics and police officers.

"Everyone hold still!" one of the SWAT members call out.

"Over here!" Erin was the one who directed the SWAT over to Sam and Mark.

Sam got off of Mark as one of the men took hold of the former gunman. Quickly Sam handed the empty gun to the SWAT team member, mumbling a quick explanation before he took off towards where Josh lay on the ground with a medic.

"Josh," Sam breathed, "…Josh, how are you buddy?"

Josh looked up from his position on the floor; his eyes glassed over with pain, "Sammy…"

"He'll be ok," the paramedic put in with a smile, "The bullet caught his shoulder, but didn't seem to hit any major arteries."

"That's great," Sam looked back down at his friend, "Hear that Josh? You'll be back to bumming food off of people in no time."

Josh smiled weakly and clasped his hand around Sam's, squeezing lightly, "I guess… that's another one… I owe you Sammy."

Sam smiled back and watched as the paramedics lifted him onto a gurney and lead him out of the cafeteria. Only as this happened did Sam notice that people were being evacuated out of the place, and a sudden longing to see his family enveloped Sam. Grabbing his bag from the table he stood by, Sam joined the swarm of people leaving the high school that Sam was suddenly glad he was never going to see again.

Once out into the parking lot in front of the school, Sam saw just how crowded things were outside of their secluded spot inside. Lights flashed from the rescue services, camera's clicked away from reporters, and Sam was sure he saw a couple of video teams making news of the high school shooting. In an instant the crowd burst into cheers and screams of joy as the hostages came out of the school, and like a mob everyone ran towards loved ones to make sure they were ok.

"C'mon Dean," Sam whispered out, "…Dad… be here."

The feeling of tears burnt curiously in Sam's eyes as he searched around desperately for his family; feeling people bang into him from all around. A minute seemed like an hour, but finally Sam heard someone yell out his name.

"Sam!" turning around, Sam saw Dean waving frantically in the distance, "Sammy!"

"Dean," Sam breathed out rushing through the people.

Moments later Sam was in his brother's arms, hugging Dean fiercely as he leaned into his big brother. Holding tight, Sam attempted to stop his emotions from flowing over before moving back.

"Sammy," twenty-two year old Dean had tears swimming in his own eyes as he took hold of both sides of his brother's face, "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Sam took a deep, quivering breath as he shook his head, "No… I'm ok."

Dean smiled as he brushed his hand through Sam's hair, "Good… when we heard what happened…"

Dean swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence, and it was at the word 'we' when Sam realized that his Dad wasn't standing there.

"What about Dad?" Sam's voice cracked, "Where's Dad?"

"He's by the car," Dean nodded off behind him, "I think he was scared…"

Wordlessly Sam walked off towards where Dean motioned the car to be; big brother in tow. The crowd thinned out as they walked, and Sam saw the sleek, black Impala before he saw his Dad standing worriedly near the hood.

"Dad!" Sam called out.

"Thank God," John closed his eyes briefly before meeting his son in a tight embrace.

Sam let out a strangled sob as he closed his eyes tight, letting the moment he never thought would happen play out.

"I'm really sorry Dad," Sam whispered into his father's leather jacket, "…I'm so sorry for what I said before."

"It's ok Sammy," John cleared his throat from his own tears, "It doesn't matter."

John pulled his son back to get a better look at him. His youngest boys eyes were red from both shed and unshed tears, and he looked more tired than John ever wanted to see any of his children. As he continued to scan his son, it was then that he noticed the blood on Sam's shirt.

"Sammy," John's hand went down to the blood, "… your shirt."

Sam looked down and cringed at the memory of Mr. Edwards, "It's not mine."

"Who's--" John started to ask, but stopped, "Are you hurt Sam?"

"I'm alright," Sam breathed deep, trying to will his heart back to a normal pace, "I'm really sorry about arguing with you Dad. I didn't mean it."

"It's ok Sammy," John continued to hold onto Sam's arm if for no other reason than to keep physical contact, "I didn't realize what it meant to you to stay here. If you really want to, I can set it up so that you and Dean can stay here so you can graduate, and then meet up with me in Georgia."

"Yeah," Dean quickly jumped in, "I don't mind staying with you Sammy."

Sam smiled sincerely, "Thanks you guys… really. But I think I just want to get out of here."

"Whatever you want," John spoke quietly before pulling his son in another hug, "I'm just glad you're alright."

Father and son broke away, and John went around to get in the drivers seat. Feeling more exhausted than he could ever remember being, Sam opened up the back seat and climbed in. It was then, with a small lingering sense of gratitude, that Dean climbed into the back seat as well and sat with his little brother. Sam sighed contently; he'd go anywhere as long as he had his family with him.

The End.