Dean yawned and stretched and gave himself a pep talk that day two would go much better than day one. He didn't want anything to jepordize his visiting days. As much as he wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, since he hated mornings, he just pushed off his blanket, got up and quickly made his bed, with military precision, the way his dad taught him. You could have bounced a quater off it.
He stood by his door, hands behind his back, like a good little prisoner and waited for it to buzz open. When it did, Dean stepped out, and grabbed the little tub with his clean clothes, stepped back in his cell, changed quickly, and stepped back out, with this dirty uniform neatly folded in the tub. He stepped up to the yellow line, next to his fellow inmates, and waited for roll call.
As the newest inmate, Dean could fell all eyes on him. He knew they were most likely just curious but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were sizing him up. He didn't like it, and he admitted to himself that he was glad that there were guards around. Suck it up, Winchester, he berated himself. He was a hunter for God's sake. Why was he so nervous? God, he really was pathetic.
"Listen up," one of the guards called. Dean recognized him as the guard who had helped him the day before. "We have a new guard on the Unit. This is Officer Don Bridges. You are to treat him with the same respect that you show me. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir," the inmates all intoned.
"Don't think you can get away with anything because he's new. He just transfered in from county and believe me when I tell you that he's seen it all. "
Dean was wondering where Jefferson was when Al Whitford announced that he was the new unit supervisor, and would be filling in for Officer Gage, and Officer Bridges was the second in command. The young hunter had tuned out everything after that.
It suddenly made sense about why Jefferson had been so hard on him. He wasn't going to be in charge of Dean. That also meant that someone else was going to be responsible for moving him up to the next level, or awarding him points once he got to level five.
He didn't care how big a baby it made him seem, that scared Dean more than anything, because Jefferson had said that not one guard, him included, had ever had an inmate complete all the requirements for a weekend furlough in the minimum amout of time. Dean knew without a doubt he wasn't going home in three months, unless his father had a back up plan. He also knew without a doubt that his father didn't have a one, they hadn't thought they would need one. He wanted to talk to his father desperately, because they needed to come up with one, ASAP.
"WESTCHESTER," an impatient voice suddenly called out, athoritatively. Uh oh! Not paying attention.
That was a great start to the day. "Um, sorry sir," Dean stammered hoping he sounded apologetic enough.
"Can you explain why you don't feel the need to participate in roll call?" Al, or Officer Whitford adressed Dean.
He could fell a slow flush crawling up his cheeks, and he heard an few inmates snicker, that were silenced with a glare from the guard, that would have put his father's to shame. Great first impression, Dean.
Roll call was done each morning. The imates stood infront of their cells, and called out their names and numbers while the guards checked it against their clip boards. Dean had been so busy brooding he had missed his turn. "Westchester, F9132005," he called. He really hoped the guy would just move on.
"Make sure you pay attention, next time. Understood?" Officer Whitford admonished as he continued down the line.
--------------------------------Nyland County Junior High School
Sam walked toward his locker, to get the books he needed for his first class, wishing he was anywhere but here.
That was a strange feeling because normally Sam loved school but it felt strange knowing that Dean wouldn't be there when he got home.
His brother had only been gone a day, and it wasn't like he hadn't gone away before. There were times when Dean had been in the hospital or away with their father hunting, and even during those times, there was no guaruntee, that Dean would be fine, but this just felt so different.
Sam couldn't explain why. Hunting was dangerous, and anytime they went after some creature their was no guaruntee they would return unscathed. Sam had the scars to prove it.
He also felt terrible because he didn't think his brother could stay out of trouble for three months. He loved his brother, and Sam knew that Dean was a lot more capable and smarter than his grades indicated, and he was good at following orders from those he respected.
The young Winchester wondered if that was why he wasn't feeling so confidant. Dean respected their father, Pastor Jim, Pastor Jim's wife Marla, their grandson Caleb, Bobby and him. His brother would never question an order if it came from any one of those 6 people. Anyone else, not so much. Sure, Sam knew that Dean would try but unless the person did something to earn Dean's respect, he wouldn't give it.
Sam had a feeling that Jefferson was falling into the latter category since he hadn't been entirely forthcoming about some things, like visiting days or the length of time of Dean's sentence or how long he would have to serve. He didn't have to be pyschic to know that this was just the beginning. He was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Trying to force down his anger, Sam grabbed his English book and slammed his locker so hard the door bounced back open.
"Hey, Sam," a concerned voice suddenly called to him.
"What?" he huffed, his voice sounding as irritated as he was feeling.
"Fine," he huffed and felt bad for taking his feelings out on Tim, who was becoming a good friend. "Sorry, just had a bad day, yesterday."
"Is that why you weren't at school?" Tim inquired.
"Yeah. Wasn't feeling that great," Sam lied smoothly. "Then Dean called, um... from school. He, ....ah was supposed to be home this weekend but he had something come up and he can't make it. It'll be at least another week."
"Sorry to hear that," Tim said sincerely. "I'm not sure how I'd feel if Roger went away to school. It's going to suck when he goes away to college. It was just me and him for so long."
"It's just hard," Sam agreed, grateful that he had a friend who he had so much in commen with. "There's nothing I can do to change it. Did you read that chapter for English?" Sam asked changing the subject as he followed Tim down the hallway.
----------------------------Nyland County Juvenile Dentention Center
After roll call, Dean followed his group for morning hygene. Showering was the thing he was most nervous about. There were stalls but they didn't lock, and Dean would have sworn he set the guiness record for the fastest shower.
Much to his humiliation, after they had all lined up again, several of their numbers were called and they were taken to the clinic for medication, right in front of everyone. Great, so not only was he the newest inmate, but they all new that he had a weakness.
The trip to the clinic did nothing to lift his spirits. First, the nurse handed him a plastic cup with his pill in it, telling him that he had to take it directly from the plastic container, he wasn't allowed to touch it. He guessed that was to prevent him from palming it. He understood the rational behind it, but it was an asthma drug, for crying out loud. It wasn't like there was a hot black market for it. Then she made him open up, to make sure he had swallowed it.
Then she handed him his inhaler, so he could take his hit, and that made no sense to him, either. It was a steroid inhaler. That would probably be worth more than a Theophylline pill was.
Still he was glad when he was finally able to leave, althought the cafeteria wasn't much better. He had been hoping to find an empty seat, as his worries about new inmates having their food stolen overcame him, and he cursed himself for watching to many movies. But he wasn't allowed, apparently all seats were marked with an inmate's number. Dean found himself at a table with 5 other inmates.
"New guy," one of the others said as he sat down.What the hell did that mean, Dean thought nervously.
He immediately felt himself tense up. He looked at the plastic utensils on his tray. They weren't going to be much help if anyone attacked him.
"What's your name, new guy?" one of the other inmates asked.
"Dean," he answered without thinking. Was their some kid of new inmate etiquette he was supposed to follow? It was okay to say his name, right?
"I'm Liam," the guy announced. "What are you in for?"
Dean didn't think you were supposed to answer that. "I was a bad boy," he said quoting Jean Claude Van Damme from the movie Death Warrent and tried to sound tough.
The other guys at the table laughed, and Dean was left with the distinct feeling that he had done something wrong. "This isn't B pod," one of the other guys said. "I got caught smoking weed one two many times. My mom thought this was a good punishment. Thinks it will scare me straight."
"Most of us here are in for the first time," Liam said. "I got caught shoplifting."
Dean allowed himself to relax slightly. "I went joyriding, and got busted by officer Dudley Dooright."
"If you want some advice, this place sucks. I've been here a week and I'm ready to pull my hair out," a guy named Curtis said. "I don't know how I'm going to make it through another week."
"Your sentence was only two weeks?" Dean asked incredously. That's when Dean learned the other guys at his table had sentences ranging from 10 days to 60 days. So why the hell had he gotten a year? That was a question he was asking Jefferson about the next time he saw him, and that would be right after Dean planted a boot up his ass for not telling them about his promotion. If he hadn't told him about that, what else was he hiding.
It seemed to Dean that all all he did was line up. They lined up to go to the clinic, showers, and the cafeteria, and now they were being told to line up for school.
Normally school was at the top of his hate list, but Dean had to admit he was curious as to what it would be like in the big house. It didn't take him long to determine that it was even worse here.
The first thing he noticed was that when they lined up outside the classrooms, there were a lot more boys than there had been in the cafeteria. It seemed that the classrooms were grouped by age, not units. Dean found himself in with the 15-17 year olds, and he had no idea what the others were in for.
He tried to get a seat in the back, but all the desks were marked with a God damned number. Dean found himself in third row. His dad has always taught him to watch his back, and he didn't like that he couldn't do that here. He was tempted to turn around but when someone else did it, the guards were quick to yell at the boy to face front. Dean had been yelled at enough today. He wasn't going to let it happen again.
He wondered about the work. School was never his strong suit. It wasn't that he didn't understand the work, it was more that he just didn't care. If it came down to cleaning weapons or studying for a test, weapons won everytime. They were important, knowning what year WWII started wasn't. If he missed that question on a test no one was going to die, like they could if a weapon jammed. He had his priorities straight. Sammy was the geek not him.
He heard the door open and saw a small petite, red-head walk in the room. She was pretty but not drop deap gorgeous, and if Dean had to guess she probably weighted about 100 pounds soaking wet.
Her name was Ms. Brenner, and Dean found out that she was one of the worst teachers he'd ever had, and considering some of the schools he'd attended that was saying it a lot. He wasn't trying to be mean, he really wasn't, but it was the truth.
Dean wasn't sure how she managed it, but she seemed to shrink when she got in front of everyone. She stepped behind her lecturn and gripped it like a shield, like she was afraid her students were going to attack her at any moment. It left Dean wondering why she would even be teaching here. She was either desperate for a job or a do-gooder whose ideas hadn't quite gone the way she hoped.
It was wrong, but he was seriously tempted to yell boo at Ms. Brenner, but he was able to restrain himself. Making the teacher quit, was not the way to endear himself to the guards.
For the first time, in a while, Dean didn't feel lost. The material she had covered was stuff he had learned about last year. Then he remembered Jefferson's warning that some of the inmates could barely read or write. Still it was extremely boring, but he found he wasn't looking forward to the end of school. At least he had something to do.
"Class," Ms. Brenner addressed her students. "I want you to all begin reading To Kill a Mockingbird and I would like you give me a paragraph on what you think the book will be about. It will be due on monday. Have a good weekend everybody." She then bolted out of the room like it was on fire.
"Everyone, line up and follow me," Officer Bridges addressed the group.
After lunch, the inmates finished up their school day in the library. Dean wasn't much of a reader but he had never the assigned book. He checked with the librarian and got his copy, with a stern warning about what would happen to him if he didn't return it in the condition he borrowed it in.
Rec time was next, and Dean found that the longest and worst part of the day. Half the time was spent outside, and it reminded Dean of too many recesses where he sat on the sidelines pretending he didn't care that no one asked him to join. No one did here, either.
I hate basketball anyway, Dean thought to himself. Not to mention, the Mordach comes after loners. He wished there was a basbeall diamond. He kicked butt at that sport, but he couldn't see the guards agreeing to give them bats. He was happy when the bell sounded and they were rounded up and sent inside.
Dean sat in his seat staring at the TV. He eyed the phone at the guard station. He really wanted to hear his brothers voice. He got up, stuck his hands behind his back, and called "approaching", to let the guards know he was coming to the desk.
"What do you what?"
"Can I use the phone sir?" Dean asked politely.
"Let me see your id?" the guard asked.
Dean really resisted the urge to sigh. His number was written in big bold letters across his chest, but he held out his wrist without complaint. "You're level 2. That gives you 5 minutes. What number?"
Sam was just coming in from school when he heard the phone ringing. He dropped his bag and grabbed receiver.
"Hello," he greeted the called.
"Sammy," a tentative voice asked.
A big smile erupted on the younger Winchester's face. "Dean," he said excitedly. How pathetic was he. His brother had only been gone a day. "Hey, hows it going?"
"Good, Sammy. You keeping out of trouble?"
It was a lie. Sam could read his brother better than anyone. "I should be asking you that," Sam quipped.
"If I was, I wouldn't be here, would I," Dean snarked back. "I can't wait until Sunday."
"Me too," Sam agreed.
"Is Dad there?" Dean asked.
Sam could tell that part of Dean hadn't wanted to ask, because he was worried about the answer. "He's in the garage, giving the Impala a bath. His words," Sam said with a smile. "Hang on, I'll get him." Sam was reluctant to give up the phone, but he figured that Dean had a time limit. He put the phone down and ran for the garage.
The phone call was short as Dean and John exchanged pleasantries. "See kiddo, I told you Dean would be fine," John addressed his youngest when he hung up the phone.
Sam wasn't sure if John was trying to convince his son, or himself. His father had to be deaf to miss it, Dean was miserable. For the first time, in a long time, Sam ignored his homework. He went the computer and booted it up. He was determinded to find information on Mordachs and figure out another way to kill them, so Dean could come home, where he belonged.
I'm sorry for the evil cliffhanger. I had meant to write this as one chapter, but being back in school has cut into what little writing time I have, and since its been so long since I updated, I figure some is better than none.
I hope you like, Please leave my a review. They totally make my day, and after the day I had today, I can use some.