Loving Dean Winchester

Chapter 15

Deans still at the bar. He didn't wanna come back with Sam and I, so we took the impala back to Bobby's. I don't think he saw Sam and I kiss. Its like midnight and I can not fall asleep. The nightmares, the panic attacks... they're making me... I'm getting really depressed. All of this hunting, monsters, Demons... they aren't helping. I'm not stable anymore.

"Sam." I yell. He rushes into the room.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

"My head... I can't... I can't stop thinking about them... about the monsters. Sam I'm scared."

"Shhh," he rushes to my side. "Just listen to my voice... Everything's going to be okay." I cry.

"No it's not... what if you guys get hurt."

"We wont... just calm down okay." I bury my face in his chest. My breathing begins to slow down. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be okay." He gets up. "Sam."

"Yea?"

"Will you stay, please?" I ask.

"Umm, yea, of course."

He crawls in bed next to me. I rest my head on his chest and fall asleep.
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I've decided to go on a hunt with the boys. I figure I should help them, give hunting another chance. According to Sam, were going to thiscollege. Kids have been disappearing over the past few weeks. We're going undercover. I think we all look young enough to pass as college students. I mean, I do for sure, but Dean and Sam... that's all we need to worry about. I think they're going in as seniors.

When we pull up to the school, I get out of the impala in a short, black skater skirt with a crop top covered with a leather jacket, and black combat boots. I walk into the registration office and get my schedule. History first... great. Thank god Art is next. Maybe I could show off some of my skills to all of the kids in the class.

History, I swear is the slowest class of the day, not only because its first hour, but because I HATE IT! You have no idea how greatful I am that art is next. I'll get to relax, express myself... all of that other cliche stuff. After struggling to find room 306, I walk into the classroom filled with different genres of art, different color palets, and many different types of people. I sit in the desk towards the back of the room and put my books down. The teacher explains what we'll be doing; portraits... my favorite.

I place my pencil to the paper and begin to draw the man in my head. All others draw what's on the board, but I dont feel like drawing George Washington... no offense. It takes me a little more than the period to finish it, but I have like two hours off after art, so I just hang out in the classroom. The teacher walks up to me as I'm adding some detail to his jawline.

"That doesn't look like George Washington..." She comments. Her hair is curled and the length just goes to her shoulders. She's wearing a dress, which I dont understand, we are in an art room... I'm assuming she's no younger than forty.

"Yea. I didn't feel like drawing him, if you dont mind."

"Oh, no. That's perfectly fine. You have some real talent."

"Oh thank you."

"May I ask who you're drawing?"

"Umm..." I hesitate. "His name is Dean."

"Who is this 'Dean'?"

"Well... he kinda saved me." She smiles. "He's... He's someone that, that I want with me for the rest of my life. But that'll never happen."

"Why not?" The look in her eyes shows nothing but confusion and sorrow.

"Because... because he doesnt feel the same way. He has a different path."