𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝¹ || 𝘥. 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

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ROCKWORTH, SOUTH DAKOTA
     September 1996

     DURING FALL OF 1996, Sam and Dean Winchester had been dropped off at yet another new school. John assured them that this time it was between five weeks and two months. He'd booked their motel room for the time being, with stolen credit cards, and enrolled them in the school; "Rockworth High"

     They spotted the large entrance and made their way toward it. Shoes were dragged across the pavement, crunching the leaves that lay along the earth. They were dreading it in different ways.

      The brothers entered the school grounds, which were empty at the time. The school year had started the month before, so the boys were jumping in. "Principal's office." Dean spoke, pointing down the hall toward a small sign that hung along the wall reading; "principal".

      He started approaching but quickly realized Sam wasn't following, so he turned to look at him. "Coming, little brother?"

     "I don't wanna do this again." Sam voiced, having had to attend four different schools this year alone. They'd started in Illinois the month before with every other student, but John completed the job quickly and moved onto the next.

     "It's just for a short while, man." Dean assured, looking down at the kid.

     "Yeah, and then again, and again, and again. I just wanna stay in one school, Dean. I don't wanna move around all the time."

     "It is what it is, Sammy." The older shrugged. "Now come on, we gotta talk to the boss 'cause he wants to show us the area or whatever."

     The younger sighed, and went after the brother he'd followed all his life.

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     Sam stood in the new classroom beside his new teacher, and in front of his new classmates. New, new, new. All the time. He wanted to stay, but all he ever did was go.

     "This is Sam Winchester." The teacher announced to the kids, some of whom muttered under their breaths. Whispering to friends Sam would never get. Expressing opinions he didn't care for. "Sam, is there anything you'd like to share about yourself?"

      The new student's gaze fell to the ground as it did in these moments. He felt out of place in public places, and especially now, in front of people. "Not really," he voiced weakly.

     "Okay," the female teacher spoke quietly. "Take a seat over there." She motioned down the room toward the only free chair. He headed toward it, passing students who turned their heads to watch him go.

     Sam took a seat, swinging his bag onto the desk. He tapped his fingers on the flat surface, and kept his head down, feeling an ache he couldn't speak of.

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      Dean stood in another classroom, in front of his future classmates. "This is Dean Winchester." As he was introduced, the guy looked across the room, glancing over the teenagers in the area. "Dean, is there anything you'd like to say?"

     He shrugged his shoulders, "no."

     "Take a seat," the teacher nodded forward before turning and sitting by his own desk in the front.

     Dean walked toward the back of the room, sparing glances at some of the girls with a smirk. Some of them shyly stole a glimpse, other confidently stared at him. A couple guys rolled their eyes, and pulled their girlfriend's gazes toward themselves while the rest of the kids just simply didn't care.

     Dean took a seat, sliding into the chair and pulling his hands out of the pockets of his leather jacket. He rested them on the table, and watched as the teacher stood up. "Right, now..." the teacher began. "By now, you should already know that chemistry is the study of matter and..." he kept speaking but Dean was quick to zone out when he heard whispers behind him.

     "He's cute. Hot." A girl's voice spoke.

     "He's full of himself." Another replied.

     "He can hear you." A third added.

      "Girls," the teacher interrupted, looking to the back of the room. "Break it off." He looked around, before adding; "Peter, Alexandra, switch seats."

      "What?" A guy to the right side of the room grunted. "You can't just—I didn't do anything."

      The teacher didn't say more, but urged with movements that they switch seats. Peter stood, rattling the table with the speed he rose at. "Mr. Thatcher, you sure got a funny way of shutting people up." One of the voices Dean had recently heard moved from behind to the side of him. She kept talking as she headed for Peter's seat; "I mean, you could just say 'please.'"

     The teacher rubbed his eyes, and sighed. "Alexandra, sit down and stop talking."

     "My lips are sealed." She thinned her lips, and leaned back in her seat. Turning her head, she caught Dean looking her way and a grin formed on her lips.

      "Right." Mr. Thatcher uttered. "Let's continue without interruptions, hmm ?"

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