Author's Note: RE-UPLOADED to fix a few errors and idiosyncrasies in the plot, this is the first chapter of a multi-chapter fic, based on the tumultuous lives of Sam and Dean in high school. I've written it from a few characters perspectives, of course the Winchester boys, and two OC's, the other one of which will be introduced later. Thanks for all the kind reviews and graciousness you`ve bestowed upon me thus far, you lovely readers! I hope you enjoy

Disclaimer: To state the obvious I do not own Dean, Sam or any other characters you recognize… would be nice though, wouldn`t it. ;)

Noel Hamilton practically fell onto her faded brown leather armchair. She tucked a strand of wispy chestnut hair behind one ear, and sighed as it fell right back into place. Her desk was stacked with student portfolios, but two stood out in particular. They were placed carefully one on the other, in new manila folders. Sam and Dean Winchester, the rare new students arriving today.

She had poured over the folders when they had first shown up on her squeaky desk, relishing the fact that Chaplin High School was finally getting some new students. Portfolios were generally very detailed, often brandishing a complete biography on the student's life. That is why when Noel read what little information there was in the profiles, she became intrigued. Pretty much these kids had hopped about all over the country, a month or two being the most they ever spent in one school. While their history of mishaps (Dean's in particular) were colourful to say the least, their extracurricular activities, housing, family information, health reports, family concerns, and any other records were completely nonexistent.

The younger brother named Sam had perfect grades, near spotless records, yet unexplained leaves of absence, that brought down his grade. He was a good student, shy but sure of himself. He seemed quite ideal, as soon as the whole skipping class thing was resolved. Noel felt sure a child with such a good work ethic would not have a problem amending that.

When she had read Dean's folder she had been shocked by the difference between the two. Dean's grades were of C – average while his attendance was shabby at best. His teachers had all noted his lack of respect for authority, but general popularity among his peers. Been in quite a few fights, coming through relatively unscathed compared to his challengers.

Noel thought she had the boys figured out, and was excited to finally use her psychology degree to help Dean overcome a little teenage rebellion, and Sam his insecurity. All of the other children in this small town school were quite preppy and, excuse her insensitivity, snobby for her taste. Sam and Dean would be arriving any second to meet with her about courses and such, while their father signed papers.

A knock came at the door and her heart fluttered a bit in excitement.

"Come on in!" She called out over-cheerfully.

The older boy walked in first sizing the shabby room up carefully with his eyes, before the younger one entered. Sun streamed through the old windowpanes, illuminating dust motes in the air. Noel noticed how much Dean's leather jacket reminded her of her soft, worn leather furniture, and felt less nervous. Although the roughly stitched gash on his forehead was a bit unnerving.

"Please have a seat" she smiled, indicating toward the scruffy chairs.

They sat down, eyeing her wearily, lack of sleep and suspicion of her evident on their faces.

"Thanks" Sam muttered, ever the polite one. Dean just stared expectantly.

Noel cleared her throat, the nerves beginning to return.

"Welcome to Chaplin High" She began, voice wavering only slightly, "My name is Miss. Hamilton and I will be your guidance counsellor this year. Any school related or personal problems, you just come straight to me and we can talk" She smiled warmly.

The boys remained silent.

"Well, Ok then, here's your timetables, school maps, and personal agendas" Miss Hamilton continued, a bit disheartened.

The boys mumbled thanks, and rose to leave. She noticed how Dean winced almost imperceptibly, masking his pain with a long overdue smile.

"Thanks Noel" he winked. They left.

That was the first time Noel met Sam and Dean, and to this day she wasn't sure how Dean learned her name. Like all things surrounding these two, I guess it would just remain a mystery.

Two weeks later Noel was walking briskly to her shabby Volvo, rain plastering her sodden bangs to her forehead. A strong wind rushed dangerously, making the leaves dance across the pavement, and her hair fly free from its pins. A few stray students mingled in the parking lot telling jokes to relieve the stress of another long day at Chaplin High. The school bully Michael Baker leaned against the concrete foundation of the high school, smoking a cigarette and labouring over lighting it with the harsh wind.

She watched the embers glow red and dispatch near perfect swirls of smoke into the late afternoon air and inwardly fumed over her lack of success with the two newest members of the school population- Those Winchester boys.

So far she had attempted to schedule over 6 meetings with them and every time they had either sat quietly mumbling textbook answers or cryptic messages in response to her thoughtful questions, or they just didn't show up at all. She had decided to bring one of their parents in, as she knew nothing about either of them. It turned out that their stoic military looking father was the only parent listed and he hadn't shown up either, not even calling her back.

Noel fumbled with her keys, and slid one into the lock of her car. She was about to get in when a familiar noise caught her attention. The purr of the only decently cool car in the parking lot and the voice of her problems.

"Sammy, hurry up!" Dean shouted impatiently out of his car window. Somehow he managed to simultaneously wink at a couple of girls on the curb. They giggled, twirling their hair around their fingers and sticking out their chests.

"Hi Dean" They chorused, turning pink. He seemed to have that effect on most girls.

Sam rolled his eyes and strut toward the car, the strings on his backpack swinging in the breeze. It happened so fast after that.

Michael Baker and his friend swaggered over to Sam pushed him over, chuckling mercilessly. Sam sat there stunned for a second, but Dean was out of the car striding over in a heartbeat. He slammed a well-aimed punch into one of the boy's faces knocking him out cold. He then ducked instinctively out of the way of Michael's stray fist, locking out the other boy's arms and aiming a quick succession of hard punches into his gut. It lasted all of 5 seconds. Sam stood up brushing down his jeans looking a tad bored and remorseful at the two thugs` fates. Not shocked at all.

Dean quickly and deftly checked his former targets over for signs of concussion or major injury, skillful fingers feeling for a steady pulse. Seemingly satisfied he stood up, wiped some blood from his knuckles on his jeans and motioned to Sam to follow him. They got into the car and left, leaving the girls on the corner swooning over his bravery and Noel standing gob smacked. She figured she might as well add, oh I don't know – crazy, fighting machine! to Dean's portfolio.

It took a few seconds for her to regain her cool, and she turned embarrassed, realizing she had been standing still beside her car like a mad woman for the past 3 minutes. Noel turned her key with shaky fingers, and sat down in her car, closing the door concurrently. She made a mental note to talk to the boys tomorrow at school and she was determined that their father be present. Fighting was strictly against the rules, and her brain turned as she mulled over what family trauma would cause that type on controlled violence. Nothing in her regular textbook seemed to fit, but she was sure it wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary. What bothered her most was Sam's lack of reaction, his face remaining impassive, almost a little disappointed at his brothers casual violence.

The two thugs Michael Baker and David Cho stood up shakily, groaning with pain. She would call a doctor or the police but she knew it would only anger them, and that would be no good for all parties involved. Instead she called the school nurse and long-time friend Nicole Anderson from her cell, informing her briefly of the situation. She knew that, like most boys, Michael had a soft spot for the young pretty nurse.

Satisfied, she drove off toward home, a cup of tea and her new psychology book.

It had been a long day.