Chapter Text
The black 67’ Chevy Impala was as much a part of the Winchester household as any of the various weapons stashed in the back. The driver holds the steering wheel casually in his hands, comfortable with his heritage and what his family had to do to save people. The passenger was an entirely different story. The young teen’s hair was at least a week overdo for a cut and his glare could easily cut everything in half. His crossed arms were defensive and he was definitely not comfortable with his position in this life.
Or at least with his father’s latest order.
“I don’t want to go to school. Why can’t I just go on hunts like you do?” The passenger still kept up his petulant stance. He knew the answer already, but still wanted his older brother, the driver, to repeat the answer he had memorized. Their ‘job’ required the family to be as incognito as possible. Hence why they were hiding out in a city filled with people. The smaller the town, the nosier the people. Now that the two of them are old enough for their dad to take off for a few days without anybody questioning, it wasn’t nearly as big of a problem as it once had been.
Instead of answering the way he expected, the driver instead kept his eyes on the road, but turned down the music. “Sammy? I thought you liked school.”
Now that wasn’t what Sam expected to hear from his brother, but thinking back he should. “Sam. Not Sammy. Sammy is a twelve-year-old with pimples.”
“You have pimples?” Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s teasing. The only time Dean was serious was on a hunt, and sometimes not even then.
Still, Sam rolled his eyes yet again at his brother. “No!”
“But you are twelve.” Dean went on, the teasing between brothers never ending. Even if Dean had been the one to raise him.
Might be the reason why Sam respected him just a bit more than their old man. Maybe. And just a little bit.
“Dean.”
“Sammy.” Dean responded to Sam’s annoyed utterance of his name with one a bit more serious than his usual tone. “I want you to have as normal a childhood that you can, okay?”
“You dropped out.” Sam went back to glaring. He liked school, but he was also annoyed at having to start over for the third time at yet another school, and it was just the beginning of October.
Dean smirked at that. “Trying to be like me, Sammy?” Before giving Sam time to answer, Dean went on with his eyes focused on the road. “What’s really going on in that big brain of yours?”
For a moment Sam silently debated whether to tell Dean, or not. Their dad would tell him that things just happen and the jobs didn’t come to them. “I don’t see the point when we’re going to be moving on in a few days.” Even if their ‘jobs didn’t pay. Sam doesn’t see the ‘jobs’ in the same light as both Dean and their dad did. To them, the jobs were something that they had to do to. To Sam? Well, it was a choice. An option. More like an extracurricular activity than a job.
Sam refuses to look back at Dean to see his reaction. Sometimes Dean would crack a joke about being in a chick flick with all the emotions around, but other times he’d surprise Sam. “I’ll talk to dad.”
Sam just slumped further into his seat the rest of the ride to school. Dean was dad’s little soldier, so of course he wouldn’t do anything without John’s permission.
Yeah, John, because no dad would give his nine-year-old a .45 when he told him he was scared of the thing in the closet. No dad would leave his two elementary aged sons on their own for weeks at a time. No dad would…
Here in his thoughts, Sam glanced over at his older brother who looked to be getting into the music. He still doesn’t get why Dean likes this kind of music, or likes it this loud. Oh well…
Still, no dad would turn his eldest son into a soldier and give him the responsibility of taking care of the younger one.
The car eventually comes to a stop in his new school’s parking lot. The building is bigger than the last one he went to, but he isn’t surprised. Bigger the town, usually the bigger the school. Sam has been to enough schools to pretty much know the game by now.
Since dad/John was busy doing research on this newest job, it was Dean’s job to take him in to get signed up for classes. Dean’s job to do John’s, since John is too obsessed with finding the thing that killed their mom instead of taking care of them. Yeah. Sam reasons, he may have a bit of resentment there.
Sam’s only half listening to the principal talking about paperwork and not having the same classes as his last school, but trying to match them up as good as possible. It wasn’t until his name was called twice before he looked away from his study of his hands. “What?” He asks Dean, who was looking at him expectantly.
At least Dean was looking at him expectantly before giving him a knowing grin. Sam merely rolls his eyes, and actually focuses in.
“I said I’ll see you after school. Try not to get into too much trouble.” Dean repeated with a wink, but from the principal’s wide eyes, he may not have said the last sentence earlier.
Sam shakes his head at his brother, reaching out for the schedule sitting on the desk. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re the trouble-maker, not me.”
Dean accentuated his smirk with a wink. “You know it.”
“If you’ll follow me, Sam, I’ll show you to your first class.” The principal interrupts the banter by standing up and opening the door.
Dean leaves through the door, but not before giving Sam a pat on the shoulder. Sam follows him into the outer office, and that’s where their paths split. Dean left the building to probably go and help dad with the job that led them to San Francisco in the first place.
“I’ll be with Ms. Halliwell in a moment.” The principal tells the woman sitting at the desk ‘guarding’ his office.
Sam takes note of the other teen sitting in the chairs. Her hair is dyed black to match her clothes. Her expression had her look as if she is about to flip off somebody at a moment’s notice. One of the rebels, then, at his new school.
At least they think of themselves as rebels. In his world, they were usually a nuisance that had the bad habit of getting tangles into the supernatural world. ‘Usually some form of demonic deal,’ Sam thinks to himself, remembering the witches his family had to deal with on another job.
He hopes there won’t be any supernatural things going on at this school. Most of the time he’s lucky with the jobs being removed from his school life, but not always.
The principal stops in front of a door and knocks to get the teacher’s attention. It takes a few moments before she finally heads to the door and lets them in.
“Can I help you?” The teacher who is, based on his schedule, Mrs. Garcia and teaches history. She’s an older lady broadcasting a no-nonsense attitude who looked to have done this job a lot longer than her passion for teaching kept her coming.
“This is Sam Winchester. He’ll be joining your class.” The principal told her before leaving without any more explanation.
There really was nothing more to explain, except Mrs. Garcia’s face seemed to be asking for more. “Pick a seat.” She finally orders with a wave at the classroom. “And try to keep up.”
The sneer in her tone has Sam tense up, but he doesn’t respond. He’s deal with other teachers like her; ones that look at the surface without thinking that there could be more beneath.
He glances over the classroom and knows he would have to make a quick decision. There are three empty chairs. Three options to determine how his time here would go. First impressions really can have lasting impacts.
Even if he’s only going to be there for a short time, Sam has an idea of what each seat will deal him. Near the jocks gives him bullies or friends, which the friends would have him in trouble with dad. Near the nerds would give him bullies by association, and people to nosey or smart to easily keep his secret. The last seat, though, was next to a brunette girl who was doodling on her jeans.
She seemed to be blacking out the rest of the world. She didn’t seem to be the kind of person that would ask too many questions. At least, not to the point that he couldn’t tell her to stop and she wouldn’t. In her own head she wouldn’t wonder too much about the new classmate, not reach out to make him a target.
She was safe.
Choice made, Sam walked down the aisle toward where the safest option was; the seat next to the doodling girl.
“May I sit next to you?” Sam asked the girl who looked to be very focused in on whatever that design was that she was creating.
She looks up, her eyes a bit wide as though started or surprised. “Sure.” She scoots further into the corner, as if to give him as much space as she could at the two-person desk.
Mrs. Garcia is already back to her lesson on World War II when Sam realizes that he never introduced himself. “Hey.” He quietly whispers to the girl beside him. When she finally looks back up, she looks just as shocked as before. “I’m Sam.”
“Piper.” She says her name just loud enough for him to hear before going back to her doodling. He couldn’t quite tell if she just didn’t want to talk to him, or maybe was just extremely shy.
Rude or shy. Kind of hard to tell on a first impression, but Sam leans towards shy. Anyway, both cases were still safe for him.