Summary: Fourteen-year old Sam is living the charmed life. His adoptive parents are enchanted with him along with nearly everyone else. A year ahead of his class and with the looming promise of a scholarship, Sam is truly going to get what he wants. Not to mention his good nature and personality have him popular and loved. Eighteen-year old Dean, on the other hand, is from the wrong end of the tracks. His foster parents disowned and kicking him out not too long after his eighteenth birthday. His nights are spent drunk or with women or a combination of both. With a sting of angry exes and a group of other low lifes as his friends, he seems to have gotten the short end of the stick when it comes to life. He is faltering in school, stumbling along with horrible grades and teachers that have all but given up with trying to motivate the young man. Except one. While both boys' lives have barely intersected in the year they have been in town, this all changes when a young english teacher makes up a plan. He has yet to have a kid fail ever and is not about to start with Dean. Promising young kid with extra credit and a college referal, he sets the two boys together on a extra credit project that will lift Dean's grade a full letter. But as they meet for their work, strange things keep happening around them. Set backs, push ups, and a strange man who seems to shadow them everywhere they go. Nothing is safe...

Author's notes: I always love to read stories like this. Young Winchesters who somehow gravitate towards one another after a time. So I decided to take my own spin at it. This will not be a very long story, maybe ten chapters or a bit more. Have to set limits for myself or else the whole thing will go crazy like Angel's Cry and Evermore did. I want at least five reviews before I will update, but won't get too picky. Anyways, if you guys like it, please tell me.

Disclaimer: Let's make a list of all the things I do not own in this story and my intentions. I do not own Sam or Dean. I do not own any of the names and have nothing against or for the ones I picked. I do not own the personality types. I do not own plot types or the idea of Dean and Sam not knowing each other. I do not intend to offend, insult or hurt anyone by writing this. I do not own any of the plotlines of season one, two, three, or four of Supernatural. This is a non-profit story, not meant to do anything but entertain those few golden souls who read it and use massive spurts of inspiration a sixteen-year old mind gets so they do not drive her insane. The one thing I do own, in fact, is combining these elements in the way I do. So please, don't sue.

Dean smiled at the girl passing by him. She caught his gaze and carelessly stumbled forward. Her eyes fixed on him and a slight tinge of color rushing to her cheeks despite last hour's dissections. Dean cocked a brow at her slightly and she was visably trembling now.

Said female was not in his taste, but that wasn't why he was trying to get her attentions. She was so caught up on watching him, smoothly leaning against the wall in his worn leather jacket, with a host of other guys on either side. Each cracking puns and jokes around him about god knew what. But she failed to notice the door swinging open and Thomas Martin, the school's lazy janitor, sluggishly coming out supplies. Including the barrel that contained a collection of the vomit and such gathered from the last couple days of dissecting

With a slooshy spat, the whole thing was overturned, sending bile towards everyone down the Eastern corridor of Jackson High. All the guys around him broke into a fit of laughter and a few of them giving each other high fives as their plan had succeeded perfectly.

The embarrassed and now stinky young woman looks back at Dean, a light in her eyes spoke her understanding. She knew it had been all intentional. On the outside, Dean laughed just like all the other guys, forcing the girl to burry her head in her hands. On the inside, a small part of him wanted to run over there and help her.

It wasn't so much that he didn't want to. Or that he couldn't see what he'd done was wrong. It was the young men laughing wildly like hyenas behind him. They just about were. To his right was possibly the greatest reason he had gone along with the plan. Jacob Wiles. The way Dean saw it, if he had to be kicked out of his house and nearly homeless, he might as well be allowed to feed his addiction every night.

Jacob had been in high school seven years now. But his twenty-first birthday had not been the first of his alcohol filled nights. His step-dad owned a bar, about the only thing he was good for. The elder man himself was a degenerate drunk; hardly ever coherent enough to notice when a bottle of Jack or any other drink went missing unaccounted for. Nor did he seem to grasp the concept of being twenty-one to drink.

Jacob's mother was a so-called "closet" addict. If he timed it right, he could have money for just about anything. He often slowly stiffened off this month's latest drugs, taking small portions of her substance so she, who was a bit sharper, wouldn't catch on. Jacob currently had maybe two or three pounds of Marijuana, a small vile of heroin, all the tobacco a kid could ever ask for, and a small mix of not that great cocaine.

To be honest, Dean mostly only drank. Not that he hadn't tried all the rest. With a friend like Jacob, it was hard not too. They'd even got their hands on a little bit of LSD a couple times since around a year ago when Dean had first moved into the town.

Without the elder man, Dean didn't know what he would do. After his foster family decided to kick him out because of one too many nights where he came in drunk, Jake had offered his place up to share. Dean did just fine in the money department though; from all his skill at hustling he didn't know where it came from, he quickly had more than a thousand dollars in the bank. He could probably afford his own place, but it would without a doubt be lonely.

And for some reason, everywhere he went, he always felt so open without someone. Like he was meant to have someone there all the time. But for some reason, he didn't.

He couldn't afford to loose Jake. And so he stood there. Snickering as the freshman down the hallway attempted to avoid the disgusting mix edging toward them and the janitor frantically as his age allowed tried to clean up the mess. But through it all, the one thing he saw was the girl's eyes, staring accusingly at him.

He felt Jake's hand on his shoulder, a clear indication that the joke had run thin. The rest of the guys followed his leader, messing around still and laughing as they sauntered off. Dean stood for a moment longer, looking at the girl with a slight look meant to vaguely substitute as an apology as she picked up her stuff out of the mess and began cleaning it up.

Then he turned away and made to catch up with the other guys. Just as he rounded the corner, he slammed into some kid on his way towards them.

"Excuse yourself." The kid muttered.

"Whatever." Dean rolled his eyes. This was that weird gifted kid. The one who skipped a grade and was in one of his classes. Everyone in his class made such a fuss over him. Despite his age and looking down at his tiny, should-be-freshmeat form, he was suddenly sitting with all the cool kids. Didn't look like much to Dean. Just another spoiled, lucky son of a bitch.

Dean just turned away from him. He could see Jake and his posy turning around, obviously not liking the way the kid behaved. They had already messed up one kid's day already. They didn't need to mess up this kid's face too.

"Dude, could you be a bigger jerk?" Dean stopped. He knew Jake would never let him live it down if he didn't at least show this kid who was boss. He turned back to see a light in the kid's hazel eyes. He had to admit, the kid had guts. Not to mention there was just something…something about him.

"What did you say, you little bitch?" Even as he said this, his tongue tingled, as if he had said it before. Just as he felt something when the boy said 'jerk.'

"Sorry, did I offend you, princess?" Just as soon as he finished speaking, Dean could hear all the boys coming; the youngest, a kid named David, cracking his knuckles in slight anticipation for a fight.

"You got something to say bout my friend, you little punk?" Jacob lashed.

"It's Sam. And ya, I do. Tell him to watch where he is going next time." Jake glared down at the kid.

"Listen, dude, let's just go. He ain't worth it." Dean tried. He prayed one of them would back off. Jake kept his icy sights on Sam and for the slightest moment, Dean felt he wouldn't back off. He realized just how strange it was for him to stand up to Jake this way. What was even weirder was that if the younger boy got into it with Jake, Dean might actually be on Sam's side. In fact, by his hand instinctively rushing to his waste where he concealed a small pocketknife just in case, it might go farther than that even.

Finally, Jake backed off with a slight laugh. "Fine, man. Not like it's my manhood he insulted." He turned his back along with the rest of the group. "Come on. See ya later, Sammy boy."

Dean felt hesitant to leave to be honest. But it had been his suggestion, so he quickly managed to the front of the pack. He did just as usual, cracking jokes about the boy's height and the remaining jokes on the vomit-covered girl. But he spared one glance back to the boy, who was still there. He watched the group till one of Sam's own friends come up to him. With in a few moments, both boys had rounded the corner, leaving that odd feeling and the confrontation behind.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

"It's Sam." He growled after the group of boys. How could there be kids like that that weren't stuck rotting in juvey somewhere? Exspecialy that Jake kid. He'd seen him around a couple times. Walked in on him once in the bathroom with a glazed look over his eyes and a skinny canister stuck away where he thought Sam couldn't see.

Not to mention his adoptive parents house was only a few miles from his step-father's bar. He could always hear the older man's drunken rages. Could hear the glass breaking and the ruckus he made late into the night.

Everyone of those kids were pure trouble. But the thing that gave him the words to speak up to that kid…Dean, shoved him hadn't been any number of these things. It had been the waft of leather and gun powder floating off the older man as his shoulder hit Sam. The natural feel of 'jerk' rising up in his mouth. The spark of recognistion and protectiveness in the kid's eyes as Jake prepared to beat him to a pulp. Even that pause as he walked away.

He clearly had felt it too. Sam had heard very little about Dean. He moved here about a year ago, just around the same time Sam. He had floated seamlessly into the low lifes, the scumbags. But there was something about him. Something different. Part of Sam had desperately wanted to speak to him since his first day in their English class. But he rapidly got caught up in the higher crowd in the class. People whom he clicked with seamlessly. But never him, sitting in the back of the class. Occasionally flirting with pretty girls of all rankings and later feeling their scorn.

But this was the first true interaction the two had had. Sam hated the fact that he felt so attuned to the elder man. He couldn't stand that things just felt so right when he was there. Like everything was okay.

Still, as Dean stole one last long glance back at him, his green eyes sent a tingling feeling through him, like he was meant to follow. And he probably would have, had a hand not shook him out of his trance.

"Sam…Earth to Sam." A familiar voice said. He turned and saw the overly-red cheeks, slightly pressed in nose, and skater boy styled deep brown hair of his friend.

"Ya, ya, Eric. Hear ya loud and clear."

"Good. You were starting to worry me with the way you zoned out there. Thought I might have to throw a bucket of water on you to wake you up." Eric got that look that Sam knew meant he was freaked a little. His lips tightened, shrinking to half their size, though still a bit fuller than Sam's. His eyes got a little larger.

"I was just…." He gave a quick glance Dean's direction "ah never mind."

"Come on. You have to see what happened right in front of our lockers." Sam had a bad feeling it had to do with the nasty smell that had filled the hall a while back.

"So what was that about, anyways?" Eric as the two made their way down the hall.

"What?" Sam asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Your whole facedown with the leaders of the drugees. You know, the kids that were just in your face."

"Oh, that?" Eric gave an inssesant look. "Well, I sorta…Dean ran into me."

Eric looked at his friend, waiting for him to go on. As if he needed a much better explanation for almost getting his head torn off. "Dude, is that seriously it? The second in command gives you a little shove and you decide to fight till you get the whole group on you're ass?"

"It seriously was nothing." Though Sam knew this was likely just the beginning. No one got away with insaulting any member of their little group unsckathed. Even if Dean didn't want to fight him, no matter what Jake said, this wasn't over.

Before the conversation could continue, they were there. And Sam couldn't help but just stare. There was vomit and god knew what else everywhere as the janitor tried to clean it up. A few of the braver kids were standing lightly on their tip toes, trying to get their lockers open without touching the putrid smelling waste. Almost every girl stood as far away as she could manage. A couple teachers tried to make order of things, scuttling around. One kid rounded the corner on the opposite way, saw the mess himself, and all the contents of his stomach joined the mess on the floor. Everything was in such disarray, it was no wonder none of the teachers had noticed the almost-fight just a corner away.

This was going to be a long day…