A Flick and A Thought ~Sabriel

Chapter 1 - First day

A/N:

(Hey guys! Welcome to my first published fanfiction. I've been working out the general plot for this story for quite some time now, as some of you are aware, and it feels great to finally get somewhere with it! With that being said, I hope you enjoy the story. Don't forget to send feedback, I love hearing your opinions. Alright, have fun! ^~^)

General-POV

"Sam!" Dean yelled from the bottom of the stairs. "Breakfast, come and get it before you're late to school!" He paused before he spoke again, "Sammy? C'mon dude, get up!" Dean continued, annoyance hovering in his voice. When once again there was no response, he started up the stairs.

"Idjit" he muffled under his breath, forcing his feet to stomp heavily to inform Sam he was getting up whether he wanted to or not. He walked up to Sam's door, as he knocked on it with haste, feeling its grain against his knuckles.

He picked up a faint grunt on the other side of the door, "Go away, Dean." Sam groaned, his voice groggy and deep.

"Not gonna happen" Dean said simply.

Dean opened the door, closing it behind him. His eyes wandered over to the messy bed, in search for Sam.

He walked over and found him smothered heavily in blankets and a random arrangement of pillows.

He pulled back some of the blanket to reveal Sam's tired face, looking up at him.

"Deeaaaannn" whined Sam, yawning and stretching his hands over his head; his knees bending, allowing him to stretch even further. He stopped when he heard the satisfactory 'pop' in his shoulders.

"C'mon Sammy, school starts in less than an hour, and you don't wanna be late for your first day of school do you?" Dean questioned.

Sam suddenly sat up, scrunching his nose while he shielded his eyes from the sunlight bleeding through his shadeless window. "Okay, i'm up...now get out" Sam demanded, pointing to the door as it suddenly swung open. "Alright alright" Dean mocked, stepping towards the door, his hands up in defense.

"You may be 16..but you sure as hell don't act like it" Dean scoffed.

"Says the 18 year old that watches Dr. Sexy MD and cries hysterically" Sam spat back.

"Do not" Dean defended.

"Do too" Sam gleamed cockily, a grin playing on his face. "I have proof."

"Shut up, bitch" Dean spat like a child. "Jerk" Sam replied, on instinct, as he climbed out of bed. Dean walked down the stairs chuckling to himself, his shoulders bouncing with the motion.

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Sam fully pried himself from his bed, stumbling over to the dinky bathroom across the hall. He smirked as he recalled the conversation he just had with Dean. I totally won that.

He stepped over to the sink, picking up his comb and running it through his shaggy brown hair. He proceeded to follow through with his morning routine, tracing in his dulled footsteps as he had the day before, and the day before that. It was all habitual, really, his body reacting before his mind. This, in turn, left Sam's mind to wander, to drift off in thought like he often found himself doing. He started to think mindlessly about the past, mostly the little things. Like the variating colors of the walls in the many nameless motels they quite often retreated too. Like the tedious hours sat either alone or with Dean in said motels. Like the dead nights that Dean would be hissing through a clenched jaw at the needle piercing his ripped skin, Sam being his personal nurse, or vice versa. You know, the molecule sized memories that he had so many of, ones that shed no real significance or importance. To Sam, though, these memories seemed almost comforting, they made up a large portion of the recollections that Sam considered happy . Sam hovered off into the slideshow of memories flashing in his mind, some more vivid than others. He could get lost in the memories, he often did. He knew the roll of blurring peaceful reminiscences would soon die out, being replaced with the blood ridden, cold, and dark memories instead. So it didn't surprise Sam when his mind switched lanes, swerving into dangerous territory.