Chapter 1: Meet the Winchesters

"What do you do when you're at school? Do you even participate during class or do you just show up and sleep?" the principle asked as he warily watched Dean Winchester sit in front of his desk.

"Well, i like to think that I'm doing my fair share by showing up to rub my charm on every student to make their lives here a little less shitty," he replied with a bullshitting grin.

"Please refrain from swearing, Mr. Winchester," he sighed and rubbed his eyes. "At this rate, you'll be held back, is that what you want?"

Dean shrugged and started drumming his fingers on the chair, but didn't grace the principle with an answer.

"Fine. I'll give you one month with a tutor that we provide. If your grades don't improve, then you will be flunked and forced to repeat the year. Understood?"

The displeased groan from the young teen was answer enough.

"Good. Starting on Monday you will go to this address, Monday through Friday, from four until whenever they tell you to leave, for an entire month."

"Oh come one! This is bullsh-"

"Language, Mr. Winchester!" The man interrupted with another sigh. "You are dismissed."

Dean grabbed his backpack and stormed out of the office. What a load of bullshit! His grades may have been pretty shitty as of lately, but that didn't warrant forcing a tutor on him, and he knew there was no way out of it, the dick of a principle had already called his mom. Man, she was gonna kill him...

Mary Winchester, while quite the beautiful and sweet young mother, was something to be feared. Her word was law, that was something he learned as well as Sam when they were just kids. Their dad, John, was the type of guy to sit back with the newspaper and say, "listen to your mother, boys," like a broken record. But, if you insulted his family... Well, you might as well consider yourself dead because he was going to kill you. But, despite their faults, they were very good parents. Dean knew that him failing high school would kill his mom... So it looked like he didn't have any other choice but to play along with the tutor deal.

Instead of going to the last ten minutes of class, he walked over to the vending machine and bought a soda. The school wasn't that bad, but it wasn't good. In all honesty, Dean was just waiting for the day the principle made them wear uniforms and, if that day came... He would be out some money.

Why was he doing so bad in school? He certainly wasn't stupid, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. The only classes he completely excelled at was gym, metals, and auto shop. Some of his favorite things to do and they were the ones that no one really gave a crap about. So why should he care about the other stuff?

Alright, he would admit that that was a pretty shitty attitude to have, but it just stuck with him. Maybe the principle was right; maybe the tutor would be good for him. Dean prayed silently that his tutor would be a smokin' hot and not some boring nerd. Or a dude. Especially not a dude because that would just suck.

The classes finally ended and the halls flooded with students and Dean decided that he better not push his luck and skip the last class. Besides, it was only study hall and Sam was in it with him, so it wasn't all bad. However, he forgot that fact that the whole school knew he was in trouble because the stupid assistant announced it over ALL the speakers, not just the one in his class room. So, since it was common knowledge, the moment he sat down, Sam was digging for details.

"Dude, what did you do?" He asked quietly.

Dean sighed softly. There was no getting away from him either because they sat at the same table. "He said i need to have a tutor help me get my grades up in a month, or i'm going to repeat the year."

Sam shook his head and pulled out his AP Chemistry homework. "Maybe this wouldn't happen if you just did your homework," he reminded - more like nagged.

"Homework is for the weak," he huffed and hid his cell phone in his bag so the teacher wouldn't see him texting.

"Whatever you say. Mom's gonna flip, though..."

And yet, another sigh. "I'm aware of that, thanks Sammy," he replied a little too loudly, which resulted in the teacher scolding them.

Sam bowed his head and pretended to do his homework. "Do you get to pick your tutor?" he whispered.

"Hell no, you think life is that fair?"

Same snickered and shook his head. "Dude, you're gonna get some skinny dude with hipster glasses!"

"Thanks Sammy, that's greatly appreciated," he grumbled and slumped against the table.

They were quiet for the rest of the period as Sam had apparently gotten his fill on asking questions. The younger boy continued to work on his fancy science homework while Dean pretended to sleep, but really, he was silently praying to God that his tutor would be hot and bangable. He would settle for no less.

School ended, finally, and Dean practically sprinted out of the school with Sam trying to keep up with him. They walked out to the student parking lot where Dean greeted his perfect, little angel.

"Hello, baby~ Did you miss me?" He grinned widely and unlocked his impala, admiring how it shone in the afternoon sun.

"Get a room, man," Sam chuckled and slipped into the passenger's seat.

That car was Dean's pride and enjoy, ever since he bough it from the man at the junk yard. Boy, was it a piece of shit, but Dean insisted that the man put the car on hold for him while he saved up paycheck after paycheck. When he bought it, he was making constant repairs and improvements. Eventually, that tan piece of scrap metal because a shining, black, 1967 Chevy Impala that it was supposed to be. It ran perfectly and it was probably the best looking car in the whole lot.

He drove home, thanking God that it was Friday, and mentally prepared for his night on the town.

"Any plans this weekend, Sammy?" Dean asked as he tapped his fingers along to the beat of the song on the radio.

"Just gonna hang out with some friends. We have a project we need to," he replied as he watched the world go by.

"Seriously, dude? The hell kind of weekend is that?" There was only one logical solution; he would have to take his brother out to have some fun for once.

Sam sighed, "Not all of us are obsessed with sex and alcohol, Dean."

"But those are two very important things, man!"

"Not to everyone!"

A groan escaped Dean's lips as he realized how hopeless his brother was becoming. "Will you at least come to the party with me tonight? It'll be fun, i promise!"

From the corner of his eye, he could see Sam shake his head. "Fine, but then you leave me alone for the rest of the weekend."

"Done!"

"And i get to drive home."

Now that was going too far. "Hell no!"

"Then no drinking. Got it?"

He had to give him credit, Sam was a lot more mature for being the younger sibling. "Fine, but if you leave one scratch on her, so help me God..." He trailed off, shooting Sam a warning look.

"Yeah, yeah, you'll rip my lungs out. I got it, Dean, I wont hurt your baby," the little brother chuckled.

"Good," he grumbled as he pulled into the driveway.

Looking up at his house made him remember how much his mom was going to flip when he got inside, and that was enough to make him want to hide from her all night. However, he knew he couldn't avoid the inevitable. And what kind of man would he be if he didn't take that problem head on? No, he would go inside right away and survive his mom's verbal beating.

With a heavy sigh, he got out of the car and walked into the house with Sam. He walked carefully through the front hall, moving silently, slowly, as looked for the attacker. She was somewhere in there, he could smell her…

"Dean, what are you doing?" came a woman's voice from behind him.

Dean jumped and whipped around. "Mom! I was, uh…. Looking for the dog."

"We don't have a dog, Dean," he reminded him, the strangest of expressions on her face.

Dean's mind translated her expression to 'high five bro, you're weird as fuck!', but he knew she never talked like that. It was still funny though, and highly accurate. "Well, then there's something in the house that I should go find and throw out."

"Ah huh. Nice try." she motioned him to follow with her finger as she walked back into the kitchen.

Sam, like the goody two-shoes that he was, already had his homework spread out in front of him. Mary motioned for Dean to sit down, so he chose the chair across from his brother, shooting him a 'kill me now' look.

"I got a call from the principle, Dean. I'm sure you know what it's about." Mary sat down at the end of the table, Sam on her right, Dean on her left.

"Yeah, I'm being voted president of the school. Isn't that great?" he asked with a shit eating grin.

"Not funny Dean. I don't know why you continue to refuse to participate in school, but it's got to stop. Did we do something wrong, Dean? Are you angry with us?" Mary asked.

"No, mom, come on. This has nothing to do with you and Dad," Dean sighed and scratched the top of his head. The hell if he knew why he didn't like school.

She sat back and folded her arms, fixing her eldest with a measured look. "Alright," she replied softly after a while. "Well, hopefully this tutor will knock some sense into you. Do you know who it is?"

"No, but I'll find out Monday." Dean's gaze stayed glued to the table. He knew she was disappointed in him, but she also wasn't going to say it. No matter how much he fucked up, she always made sure that he knew how much she still loved him, idiot or not. Maybe that's why he was feeling so guilty about being a screw up.

Mary nodded and stood up, walking over to the sink to finish the dishes. "All I ask is that you try your best, Dean, but clearly, I can't make you do anything."

He looked at the woman suspiciously. Her tone said that the conversation was over, but… he was pretty sure she forgot something. "What, no punishment?"

"Your future will be your punishment if you don't get your act together," she replied. "Your dad wants to check on the Impala's engine, maybe you can go help him?"

With another sigh, he got up. Well, at least it was something to do until dinner. Out in the garage, John had the hood of Dean's baby up, tools spread out as he did routine check up.

"Hey, Dad," he greeted and tossed his backpack on the work bench.

"Hey kid. Your mom talk to you?" he asked as he pulled out the dip stick, wiped it off, and stuck it back in to check the oil levels.

"Yup," he replied simply and looked down at his engine.

John nodded and checked up on random things in the engine. "Good."

His dad's lack of response wasn't all that shocking, but he kind of expected more than that. "That's it?"

"What more is there to say?" he asked with a shrug. "She said it all."

"Um… alright, then…"

The talk then turned to cars and eventually, John began playing some of their favorite songs on the CD player. Listening to music, making jokes, and learning from his dad everything he knew about cars was some of Dean's favorite things. John Winchester could be distant - hell, he never took either of his son's to a baseball game - so any time he had with him, anything he could learn from the man, was valuable to Dean. Maybe that's why he was so good with cars.

They were called in for dinner and it was like every other night. In all honesty, the lack of discipline was throwing him off, but he wasn't about to push his luck. When they finished, he pulled Sam upstairs and grinned widely.

"Get ready brother, for the night of our lives!"