Gaurdian Angel

Chapter One

Dean's POV

I swear, I'm going to kill my alarm clock. It's broken, and this is the third time in a row that Its accidentally gone off an hour early. I grumbled and growled, slamming the off button on the clock. I sighed and sat up. 'Damn, no use going back to sleep now..' I thought, shaking my head and yawning. I stretched my arms over my head, feeling and hearing my spine crack in three different places. I pulled my arms across my body, stretching my shoulders out, and stood up slowly. My foot was asleep, throwing me slightly off balance. I shook my leg, clearing the pins-and-needles feeling from my numb foot. After I regained all feeling in my foot, I walked out to the hallway and over to the bathroom door. It stood slightly open, and the light was off. I stepped into the room and shut the door behind me, twisting the lock. I flicked the light switch up, and squinted slightly as I was blinded by bright fluorescent lighting. I pulled open the shower curtain and twisted the knob to turn on the hot water. I stripped, tossed my clothes into the corner, and stepped over the lip of the tub into the hot water. Steam rose from my cold skin as the hot water came in contact with it. I closed my eyes and ducked my head into the stream, raising my hands to run my fingers through my messy hair. I grabbed my shampoo off the shower shelf, and squeezed some into my hand. At that point, I was starting to wake up. As I massaged the shampoo into my hair, a song popped into my head and I started to sing. My voice stayed quiet as I tried not to wake my dad or my brother. I finished washing my hair and my body, then shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, snatching a towel from the rack to wrap around my waist. I undid the lock and opened the bathroom door, then walked back to my room. After I dried off, I ditched the towel on the end of my messy bed, then opened my closet. I grabbed a plain black t-shirt, a pair of dark blue jeans, and a pair of black high top converse. I took a brush to my hair, added a little hair gel, then grabbed my Letterman Jacket and book bag. I knocked on Sammy's door as I walked past. "Time to wake up little bro!" I called, tossing the bag and jacket on the chair by the door. I walked into the kitchen and pulled a pan out of one cupboard, switching on the stove and setting the pan on a burner. I opened the fridge and grabbed out the carton of eggs, then reached into the fridge's drawer to snatch out a package of bacon. I tossed the bacon on the counter, set down the eggs, and opened the carton. Sam stumbled sleepily into the kitchen in nothing but sweat pants, his too long hair sticking up in the back. "Morning Sammy, one egg or two?" He held up two fingers, yawning, and walked stiffly over to the fridge to grab the milk jug. He pulled out a glass and poured himself some milk, then set the jug next to me. I cracked four eggs into a bowl, splashed in some milk, sprinkled in some salt, and twisted the pepper grinder over the bowl. I grabbed a fork out of the drawer and beat the eggs, then poured them into the pan. I pulled out a spatula and started to cook the eggs. As soon as they were done, I dumped them onto two plates, then put the bacon in the pan. I let that cook, then added it to the plates. I stuck four pieces of bread into the toaster, and in a minute or two I added toast to the plates. I took the plates to the table and set one in front of Sam, sitting next to him to shovel down my own food. Sam grabbed his fork and dug into his own food. As soon as I was done, I pulled my phone out to check my messages. Nothing worth replying to. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and looked up. Sam was done eating, so I grabbed both of the plates and put them in the dishwasher. "Go get dressed, and I'll give you a ride to school, okay Sammy?" He nodded and walked to his room. I waited, and a few minutes later he walked out in a t-shirt for some lame band, and jeans that were just a little too baggy. I rolled my eyes at him and pulled on my Letterman Jacket. I pulled one strap of my book bag over my shoulder, grabbing the keys to my pride and joy off the wall. I had just gotten the car as a birthday present from my rich but mostly absent dad. He had been home for about three days. Longest he'd been home at one time in five years. Sam walked out the door with his book bag straps pulled over both shoulders, his red wire glasses crooked on his nose. I slid into the drivers seat of my black 1967 Chevrolet Impala, grinning like a fool. Damn, I love this car.