A/N: So, not ignoring any prompts, just felt like throwing one of my own in there. Sometimes this story gets a little too action focused, so I thought I would write about something small today.

How about a 'Sammy saves Dean's ass' in an unexpected way !weechester! Fic?

This is a personal head-canon of mine, so I hope you enjoy it. Nothing the writers ever do will make me believe this didn't happen.

Cavity sweet, coming up...

Reviews are love.

As Always,

EverReader

Disclaimer: Not mine...

How To Fix A Winchester – Chapter 18

"The Unfortunate Thing About Deadlines"

Dean shut the door to the apartment wearily, leaning against it with a haggard sigh. He was exhausted and sore and looking forward to a shower.

"Dean?" Sammy popped his head around the corner warily, and Dean smiled to himself when he met his little brother's bright hazel eyes.

"Hey, kiddo." He said tiredly. He'd been out all weekend on a werewolf hunt with their Dad, and Sam had been left behind. Dean was still a little uncomfortable with leaving his thirteen year old brother behind for two days, but John had reminded Dean that he had been responsible for Sammy as young as eight and nine.

Dean glanced up at the clock. "Why are you still up? It's a school night." In fact, it was one a.m., which actually made it Monday morning, and Sam should have been in bed hours ago.

Sam shrugged. "I knew you'd be coming back. Couldn't sleep. So I did some homework instead."

Dean studied his brother's face, his eyes tracing the shadows under Sam's eyes. He knew Sam worried every time he and John left on a hunt, fretted that this time, they wouldn't return for him.

"You still had homework left by Sunday night? Sammy, I'm proud of you." Dean teased with a tired smile. In fact, it was incredibly unusual for Sam to have homework left over, but perhaps he had gotten a head start on the next week's work.

"Get in bed kiddo, I'll be up after I shower."

Sam shrugged, tired but obviously relieved that Dean was home in one piece.

Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural

Dean slammed the door of his locker shut, dread coiling in his stomach. He had algebra next, a subject he hated in and of itself, but worse, the teacher had taken one look at Dean and decided that he hated him.

He seemed to take a perverse joy in the fact that Dean was struggling with the subject. Dean couldn't exactly stand up for himself and say 'Hey, It's not my fault my homework isn't done, I had to go hunt a werewolf...'

He slouched into class, hoping that just this one time, the teacher would choose to ignore his presence.

He'd thought about skipping algebra, but Dad would tan his hide if the school called about Dean playing hooky one more time.

No such luck.

"Mr. Winchester. How kind of you to grace us with your presence." The teacher sneered, and Dean had to repress a forcible growl.

"Let's see how you did with this weekend's problems. Your homework, please." The man grinned sadistically.

Dean slouched down even further in his seat, mumbling under his breath.

"What was that, Mr. Winchester?" The teacher said, purposefully baiting the teenager. Dean's classmates erupted in whispers and sniggers, which only seemed to bait the teacher further.

Dean sighed, feeling a blush stain his cheeks. "I said, it's not done yet."

Not done was an understatement, since he'd pretty much only managed to get two problems done Friday night before John had hustled him out to the Impala.

"Really. Well, let's just see what you have finished, shall we?" The teacher's voice held suppressed glee, and Dean fought visions of keying the man's car as he grudgingly reached into his book bag and pulled out his notebook.

He handed it over without a word, sinking down further still, bracing himself for the man's teasing.

"Mr. Winchester." The man began, and Dean swore he could here actual hate in his voice. "I don't enjoy being lied to. Next time, just turn in your homework, and don't make such a show of yourself."

The man tossed Dean's notebook back onto his desk, walking away in a huff.

Dean was confused, but knew better than to show in. He eased the notebook towards him as discretely as he could, and as the teacher started that day's lecture, his eyes skimmed over the pages the man had just looked at.

It was done. Every problem. Correctly, too, though the handwriting was sloppily and imprecise. It wasn't a perfect copy of Dean's own script, but close enough that the teacher wouldn't have realized the difference.

Sam.

Immediately, Dean realized just what his little brother had been doing last night at midnight.

After all, the kid had never said he was doing his own homework at one in the morning.

Either he had spent his normal homework night doing Dean's work and had then had to catch up on his own, or he had realized at the last moment last night that Dean hadn't gotten a chance to do his own work, so he'd sat down with Dean's math book, and apparently taught himself third year algebra, in order to try and prevent Dean's asshole teacher from embarrassing Dean in class once again.

Sam had listened to Dean's nightly diatribe about the evils of his algebra teacher, and had decided to protect Dean the only way he could from where he was stuck at their apartment.

Dean closed the door that afternoon, calling out for his brother. "Sam? Sammy?"

He frowned when he got no response, knowing that Sam's school let out twenty minutes earlier, and Sam was always supposed to come straight home.

Dean walked into the living room, pausing when he finally spied his brother.

Sam was passed out on the couch, book bag on the ground beside him, his own math book open on the coffee table.

Dean sighed, walking over and ruffling the kid's hair. Sam slept on, unaware, and Dean smiled to himself as he pulled an old, tattered afghan over the sleeping boy.

If Dad was there, he'd tell Dean to wake Sam up so he could finish his homework and then start his training, but Dad wasn't there right then.

And as far as Dean was concerned, Sammy had earned his rest.