Disclaimer: See 1st Chapter

Previously...

"Oh yeah, I forgot to mention it, didn't I?" Dean smirked. "Dad signed you out AMA too. Time to go, little brother."

"Oh, man," Sam lamented, easing himself out of the bed. "And I was just starting to get a chance to appreciate it, too."

"Yeah well, don't get used to it," Dean said, handing Sam some clothes. "Dad said once you're healed you're in for a buttload of extra training. He wants a full explanation on how you let that dumb jock get the drop on you."

"On me?" Sam said, pulling a shirt over his head. "He got the drop on you, jerk. You're just lucky I was there to save your ass."

Yeah Sammy, I guess I was.

For once, Dean didn't grimace at the thought.

ooooooooooooooo

Seven Months Later

It was raining the day Dean graduated. A light sprinkle had begun the night before, and by the time 10 AM had rolled around a large storm had gathered, harsh wind rolling dark clouds across the sky, torrents of rain leaving mud and puddles in its wake.

"Yeah well, at least we won't have to deal with any mosquitoes out on the football field," Dean had told Sam on their way to the school.

"Dean, it's too early for the mosquitoes to be out anyway," Sam said, fumbling with their old family camera. It had broken months ago, but Sam had convinced Dean to fix it in time for the day of the ceremony.

"Did Dad call?"

"Yeah, he called from the road. Said he finished the hunt last night and should be back in time for the ceremony."

"Good," Sam agreed, his gaze affixed to the camera. The next few minutes were spent in silence, Sam focused on the camera and Dean on the road.

"Damn," Sam finally muttered as he practically chucked the camera back into his lap, the furrow between his eyebrows increasing.

Dean glanced at him, curious.

Sam shrugged. "I didn't ask you to fix the flash, 'cause it was going to be outside. Now I can't get a good shot of you onstage."

Dean smirked. "Dude, you're such a girl."

"Jerk," Sam said, but without any heat. He couldn't help the smile that was creeping up onto his face.

"What's got you into such a good mood?" Dean asked as they parked in the school lot.

Sam said nothing, just smiled wider and shook his head before getting out of the car.

Dean didn't know why he'd bothered to ask. Sam had been smiling nonstop for days. Even on Friday, when Dean had finally told Sam he looked like he was about to barf out lollipops and candycanes, Sam had laughed appreciatively – and that was definitely not the Sam Dean knew. If anything, Sam had been more broody since... the accident.

Dean's jaw clenched as he climbed out of the car, but seeing Sam standing by the trunk, his sweatshirt hoodie pulled tight around his head, the camera tucked under an armpit, made Dean force a small grin.

"Hey, why don't you run ahead and grab a seat?" Dean offered, walking around Sam to open the trunk. "I have to get my gown and cap and change before the ceremony anyways."

"You sure you want me to go?" Sam said, staring hard at Dean, his grin faltering. Dean could tell he wasn't worried about himself, but instead worried about Dean worrying. Over the last couple months, Dean had stuck to Sam like glue. Neither had said anything about it, though both were very aware of the constant presence of the other.

Sam didn't seem to mind much, though. And for that Dean was glad – he was pretty sure it wouldn't be long before Sam's growing resentment for Dad spread to him as well.

Dean nodded. "Nah, I figure you can take care of yourself," he answered, pulling the back hood up. He grabbed a small vial and tossed it to Sam, who though surprised caught it without a problem.

"Holy water?"

"That's for when you find out you actually can't, and I eat my words."

Sam's eyes narrowed just as Dean's smirk widened.

"Ass."

"Bitch."

"Wuss."

"Geekboy."

"Rawhead."

"Zombie."

"Fairy spawn!"

Dean shook his head. "Dude... fairy spawn?"

Sam looked down, trying to hide his embarrassment with his mop of bangs. "First thing that came to mind..." Dean heard him mumble.

Dean clapped him on the back. "Dude, just get your skinny ass into that school before you're completely soaked." Seeing Sam's smirk grow again – Dude, you care, you really really care – Dean added, "'Cause there's no way you're getting back into this car after this dumb thing is over with, if you're all wet."

Sam raised his head, his expression adamant. "It's not just some dumb thing, Dean! You're graduating."

Dean's features softened. "I know, kiddo," he said sincerely. Then, realizing the impending chick-flick moment on the horizon, added-

"I'm just glad the camera is broken, so you can't blackmail me later."

Sam laughed. "Dude, you have to wear a dress."

"It's a gown, not a dress, Samantha," Dean quipped, grabbing said apparel from the trunk. "Now, get out of here, will you?"

"Yeah, yeah," Sam called, already running towards the school.

Nonetheless, Dean watched him all the way until he disappeared inside behind the main doors.

Dean turned back to the trunk, and was just about to close it when –

"Well, if it isn't Dean Winchester."

Dean closed his eyes, taking a moment to school his features, before he turned around.

"Hey Greg," he said casually, slamming the trunk without looking by leaning his elbows against it. "What's going on, man?"

Dean hadn't seen Greg since the day Sam had been stabbed. Two days after the accident, Greg had turned himself in to the police. He'd been expelled from the school permanently almost immediately, and at a court hearing a month later he'd been sentenced to time at the State Juvenile Center. He'd also been told to stay away from the Winchesters. Apparently, though, he'd forgotten that minor detail.

Dean wasn't one to let history repeat itself, however.

"Oh, nothing," Greg answered just as nonchalantly, though he appeared anything but. "Just came to see the show, y'know. See all my friends graduate without me."

"Yeah, too bad you can't join in the festivities," Dean said coolly. "How long were you at the Juvenile prison? Three months?"

"Four, you ass," Greg said angrily as his hands clenched into fists, unable to hide his fury any longer.

Dean didn't feel too threatened though. Greg wouldn't ever catch him unaware again, he was sure of that.

After what had almost happened to Sam, nobody would.

"Oh yeah, four. Sorry, you know how it goes, you just forget this stuff after a while, don't you?"

Greg bristled. "You son of a bitch. Maybe you've forgotten, but I sure as hell haven't. And now, seeing as this is my last chance, I think it's time to settle the score."

Greg stepped toward Dean, his right fist raised. Dean saw it coming though, and ducked out of the way just as Greg's arm came flying at him.

"Dude, you're so slow," Dean said, walking around Greg in a slow circle, casually dropping his graduation clothing on the back hood. He knew what was coming.

Greg just let out an angry yell, and lunged at Dean, aiming for his chest. Dean easily blocked the maneuver, and when he had Greg's hands locked, Dean kicked his feet out at Greg's ankles, tripping him.

Greg went down hard on the muddy pavement, and Dean heard a groan escape.

"You done yet?" Dean asked, looking down at the jock, trying his best to let go of his instinct to kick the dumbass in his solar plexus.

Greg looked up at him, but made no move to get up, just wiped his bleeding lip with the back of a hand. Slowly his eyes averted to the ground, and he nodded in defeat.

"Good," was all Dean said. It took all of his willpower not to punch Greg anyways. Seeing the young man again made his blood boil. "Get out of here, Greg. Before I really show you what I can do."

Dean turned away from the football player, who still lay on the ground. And who, evidently, just didn't know when to quit.

"Your brother, how's he doing?"

Dean abruptly stopped, his whole body still.

Though Dean knew that Sam was okay, at the moment all he could see was Sam unconscious, bleeding out on the pavement, lying on a hospital floor dead.

Over the months the constant ache of failure that had assailed Dean initially had faded, but Dean felt it coming back in full force now that he again faced the kid who had stabbed his little brother, who had set in motion events that had changed all the Winchesters, for good or ill.

However, Guilty Dean was often the same person as Angry Dean, and this was no exception.

"Leave my brother out of this," Dean whispered, his voice deadly. Slowly he turned to face Greg, who by now was standing again, a smug smirk of triumph painted on his bleeding lips.

"Heh. Not so tough when it comes to your precious baby brother, are you? Yeah, he didn't bleed out or nothing. But he almost died, anyways. Too bad you couldn't protect him from the likes of me. Not that that's surprising. I heard he's a pussy anyways, can't go ten feet without needing his ass saved by his big bro-"

Smack.

"My brother-"

Slam.

"-is worth more-"

Whack.

"-then a goddamn fuck like you-"

Thump.

"-will ever be."

Dean cracked his knuckles as the red faded from his vision. Greg was back on the ground, moaning. Dean was pretty sure he heard a 'help' escape too.

"Now go drink a latte, asshole, and leave me and my brother the fuck alone."

And with that, Dean turned away from the pitiful teen and headed towards the gym, grabbing the now soaked gown and cap from where'd he unceremoniously dropped them on the pavement in his fury.

If he whispered, "That's for you, kiddo," as he straightened his back in triumph, he never told a soul about it.

oooooooooooooo

A/N: The resident evil of this story is based off a real demon in Russian folklore named Polevic. Polevic is often seen in farmer's fields, wearing a gown of white. It is said that he has two eyes of different colors, and amuses himself by strangling those unfortunate souls that cross his path whom he deems lazy. He goes by many names, but 'Polevic' happens to be the one my grandmother used in her bedtime stories to me when I was wee.

A/N II: Wow, I can't believe I've finally reached the end! Thank you so much to everyone who has followed this story, and a special thank you to all who have reviewed. Your comments encouraged me to keep going, and I appreciated every single one of them. Thank you.