The First Hunt

Great update. Your logic makes perfect sense. I can see a 16 year old Dean feeling like this upon getting locked up. I love this story.

Oh that was a great update.

Dean is trying so hard to be brave, and his fear keeps turning into anger outbursts. I understand Jefferson has to be hard but I wish he was a little gentler on Dean when they are one ot one. The poor kid having to throw up and then later having an attack in the shower. Not fun.

Loved this, can't wait for more, and totally understand how you are writing Dean adder574.

Julie.

Great update! I'm finding this completely in character for Dean at 16. This situation would play on all his insecurities - especially with the added complication of the asthma...

Love it!

I can't imagine to be in the prison. For 16 years old, I think it's mostly the craziest experience.

That was a great read.
Poor Dean, what a day for him and it was only the first day.
Only thirty minutes by visit, two days a week, it's going to be a long three months for Dean and for John and Sam too.
Can't wait for more.

Thanks again for the review. I had this chapter on my computer for awhile. It just needed some tweaking, which is why I'm updating so quickly. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Still Don't Own.

He didn't let himself feel pity for very long. He was Dean Winchester, son of John and Mary Winchester, big brother to Sammy and a future hunter. He had people counting on him and he couldn't let a stupid thing like juvy get the better of him. He was better than this. He was stronger.

The first thing he needed to do was make sure he knew what to do, or in this case, what not to do. Since he was in his cell, he pulled his sweater over his head and without thinking he dropped it on the floor next to his bed. Afterwards, he grabbed his room folder and took a seat at his desk, and pulled out the rules.

It was thick, but he was bound and determined to commit them to memory even if he had stay up all night to do so.

The first page contained the usual stuff, no starting fights, respect the guards, no talking anytime they were moving, and to listen to and obey any instuctions given by guards, no gang affiliation symbols and to make sure his hands were behind his back anytime he walked anywhere.

He knew he was going to have trouble with that. Not because he didn't understand it, because he felt vunerable walking that way, and he knew it would be worse once their was other people in line behind him. Jefferson had said they weren't violent but you just never knew.

Then there was his asthma. It worried him he might have an attack when he was in line, and doing a 'movement procedure' as it was called. Could he just reach into his pocket if he felt his chest getting tight, or did he need to ask for premission. When he was in a full fledged attack sometimes that just wasn't possible. And how could he ask for his inhaler if he wasn't allowed to talk in the first place? He filed that away to ask Jefferson when he came back.

He should have made going to a faith healer a condition of this job. His dad always refused though, saying the price was too high because there were always unexpected consequences. With a sigh, he pushed those thoughts away and flipped over to page 2.

It descibed the way that he was to keep his cell. The bed had to be made every morning, and it was supposed to be neat and tidy at all times. Imates were allowed to have five photographs hung up, so Dean made a mental note to ask his father to bring some. He was responsible for cleaning the sink and toilet. There was borning stuff about laundry collection and changing bed linens. It also stated that their would be two cell inspections per week, one scheduled, and one not.

Page 3 described the vistors schedule. He only glanced at that quickly. He didn't want to think about only seeing his family 2 hours per week. He skimmed the list of do's and don't's during visting times. Nothing to surprising there.

Page 4 contained the schedule. Monday to friday, wake up was at 6:15am, 7:00am was clean up and roll call, 8:30am was school and they returned at 11:50. They ate lunch at 12 and visits to the nurses clinic if needed. They went back to school at 1 and returned at 2:40 and had recreation until 5 when they had dinner. Homework was at 7:00pm, followed by a nutrional snack at 7:30, showers, nurses clinic, for those that needed it at 7:45, reading time started at 8:30 and went until 9. Then it was lights out.

One bonus, he was only in school for about 5 hours rather than the 7 he usually spent, and he would only have a half hour of homework each night. He wondered exactly what school would be like in the big house.

Normally, Dean hated school. He found it boring and useless. His grades weren't the best, but he didn't have a lot of time to put into his school work after he was done helping his father and looking after Sammy. Not to mention that he missed a lot sometimes when his asthma acted up.

That was one good thing about the disease. It had allowed him to skip school a few times until his father caught on, and could tell the difference between a real attack and Dean trying to skip a test.

Saturdays and sundays were pretty much the same except instead of school, there was chapel (again for those that wanted it), and more rec time.

Page 5 was of special interest to him. It describled everything he needed to do to make it to the next level and then explained the points system when he reached level 5. He put that aside to study in more depth later.

The last page contained what would happen if rules were broken. The biggest rule was no fighting. If he was caught, it was an automatic return to level one. He'd really have to make sure he controlled his temper. Actually he would have to make sure he followed all rules to the tee. One of the punishments was isolation. The very word caused him to shudder.

Now that he was done, he was getting extremely antsy. He couldn't pace, the place was too small. That last page had rattled the courage he had been buidling up, and he was tempted to turn the punishment page into a paper airplane.

He was actually pretty good at making them. They'd studied areodynamics in his physics class once, and he was proud to say he had been the class champ, when his had flew the longest and the furthest. He had a feeling turning the rules into one it wouldn't go over to well, though. He sighed, got up and attempted to pace back and forth. The cell was extremely small, so that killed all of 5 minutes, he thought. They had taken his watch, so he couldn't really tell.

He sat down on his bed again was wondered it it was possible to die from boredom. He sat there for all of 30 seconds before he was on his feet again. He walked over to his window, and looked out, disappointed that all he could see was a parking lot. Figured he'd get the cell with no view. He walked over to his window in his door and looked out. He couldn't see much more than a hallway. There were two other inmates mopping the floor. He felt uncomfortable starting at them so he backed away. Eyeing the panic button, he briefly considered pushing it but quickly decided against it. That wouldn't win him any points or friends among the guards.

He grabbed his folder again, and went back over how to move up again, but found that he was so bored his couldn't concentrate. A number of his teachers had tried to convince his dad that he had ADD. A smile spread of his face, when he remembered once time his dad had gone postal on a teacher that had told his father he needed to be put on medication.

He didn't. He just hated school. It bored him, and wouldn't help him become a hunter and he couldn't wait to be done with it. Finally unable to stand it anymore, Dean took the last page, containing the list of punishments and folded it into a paper airplane and amused himself by throwing it around his cell for a bit. He felt it would have went far if he the walls weren't so close together.

He wished again for his watch or a clock in his cell. How long had he been here? Was it almost time for Lunch? He would have almost welcomed some schoolwork right about now.

Suddenly, without warning, the door to his cell buzzed and opened. Oh no! He tried to kick the paper airplane under his bed, but acting quickly he didn't get all of it and it was still paritally exposed. Please, for the love of everything good and holy, let him have luck for once in his life.

"I got your lunch," Jefferson said sitting a tray on Dean's desk. "Um, Dean are you forgetting something?" Jefferson asked.

What could he be forgetting. He didn't have anything.

"Hands," Jefferson prompted him.

"Oops," Dean sheepishly and walked over to the fall wall and clasped his hands behind his back, like he was supposed to do when anyone walked into his cell.

"It's important that you remember that. You get three warnings and then its the cuffs," Jefferson admonished. "Don't worry, I'm not going to count this as a warning, if anyone else has to remind you, it will be. I already told you that there's no slack because it's the first day. I'll ask you one more time, do you understand that?"

"Yes, sir," Dean said, feeling a little insulted over Jefferson's tone. He hadn't done it on purpose. That's when Jefferson noticed Dean's sweater on the floor.

"My, God, did you even read these?" Jefferson scolded. "Cells are supposed to be tidy. A sweater on the floor might not seem like a big deal, but it can loose you privileges and what the hell is this?"

Oh crap! Dean was sure the guy was about to have a stoke, he turned that red.

"Is this some big joke to you? How the hell do you expect to find the spirt if your stuck in here for 23 hours a day? You've been here for about 3 hours and so far you've had four infractions. I mean it, this is your last warning. If I have to correct your behaviour one more time, your going on report for it. If I was any other guard you already would be. This isn't a game," Jefferson repremanded harshly.

Dean felt his cheeks go red at Jefferson's lecture. It was day one and he was already screwing up.

"I won't do it again," he promised, and it was one he had every intention of keeping. He just hoped he could.

When Jefferson left, Dean sat down to eat his lunch. His appetite was gone, but he had to eat because one of the rules was that you had to clean your plate. The food was a bland as he expected it to be, but at least it gave him something to do for the next little while.

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When Jefferson came back for his tray about a half hour later, Dean was proud that he remembered to stand at the far of of his cell with his hands behind his back.

Taking his tray, Jefferson laid a notebook and pencil on the desk and instructed Dean that he wanted him to write the rules out at least twice. He said that way, he could be assured that Dean read them, and would be more likely to remember them.

Lines. They wanted him to write lines. He wasn't in grade two anymore. Still he guessed that he should count himself lucky that was all that had happened to him, so far. Right now he was failing miserabley at everything.

With a long suffering sigh, Dean picked up his pencil. At least he had something to do.

He took his time getting it done. Jefferson checked on his progress at dinner and let him know he was pleased.

When he was finally done, he shook out his sore wrist, as he wasn't used to this much writing, and opened to a fresh page and started a letter to his dad and Sammy.

Hey, Sammy. Hey Dad
[center]Greetings from Hotel Nyland. It's not too bad here. The food actually better than dad's cooking. I'm behaving myself, so you don't need to worry about me. Jefferson said I'm a model prisoner. We have classes and everything. I know you were worried about me missing school Sammy, but you don't have to be. They have a basketball court and I joined a group of inmates for a game. I think my jump shot is improving. Anyway, its almost time for light out. I can't wait until Sunday when I can see you and Sammy. [/center]
Dean.

Alright so it was a pack of lies, except for the part about Dad''s cooking, Dean thought when he was done, and the part where he wanted to see his family. He was literally counting the seconds until then. He knew how worried Sammy was, and Dean wanted to set his brother's and his father's mind at ease.

When his cell opened, Dean got up from his chair and stood againt the far wall.

"Hey, kid. You got those rules?"

"Yes, sir." Dean went to go grab his notebook off his desk and then stopped and looked at Jefferson. "Can I get my notebook for you?"

"Go ahead," Jefferson granted permission.

Dean handed his notebook to the the guard and resumed his posistion against the far wall. Jefferson looked through them. "Okay, two-zero-zero-five, its almost time for lights out, so I need you to follow me. I'll take you to the infirmary and you can get your meds and then its time for lights out.

"Jeff...I mean, excuse me sir, I was wondering if you could mail this?" Dean handed him his letter. He had been unsure if he should since he wasn't sure about writing letters.

"Sure. I'll put it in tomorrow's outgoing mail," Jefferson said much to Dean's relief.

"Thank you sir," Dean said respectfully.

After meds, and brushing his teeth, Dean climbed into bed and cursed himself when he realized that he had forgotten about to ask Jefferson about his the use of his inhaler.

The morning alarm went off at 6:15. Dean awoke and yawned. He congratulated himself on surviving the first day. He just couldn't let himself dwell on the other 364, because at the rate he was going, thats how long he was probably going to be there.

Please read and review. It makes my day.

I am loving this story. However, I'm not loving Jefferson. I know he has to be "tough" on Dean, but geez the only reason Dean is in there is because of him. Please update soon.

Jeez the time for Dean is just not moving is it? But Dean is being very brave and he must continue on this path. Jefferson is a little harsh but I can understand it, it's lucky for Dean only Jefferson came into his cell that day.

Love the little letter to Sam and John, so typical of Dean to try and settle his family while he is being put through the mill. What a guy.

Looking forward to more...
Julie.

Dean and rules don't go well together at least Jefferson was his guardian for his first day if he had had any other guardian he would have been already punished.
Captivating so far, can't wait for more.

Oh dear Dean and rules are not a good combination....and especially if you add boredom to the list...he is going to get in trouble...great update
:Lisa

OMG! I've been away -- I'm soooosooo happy to see an update so soon! You know how much love this story! Great chapter. Poor Dean! He is going to have such a hard time adhering to those rules! And they are so harsh! Can't wait for more -- I can only imagine how tough his first REAL day is going to be when he has to deal with the other inmates and the REAL guards....

Oh wow.Poor Dean He is going to have a very very hard time adjusting.

I wish Jefferson could go easier on him, but if he was then Dean may be more likely to slip up around one of the other guards.

The paper airplane of rules was awesome. Damn good thing it was Jefferson that found it though

Trace

Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

Juvie sucked! Big time!

It hadn't taken long for Dean to come to that conclusion. It was Sunday. It was a day that should have been a good one, or as good as a day as one could have in jail because it was a day that his father and brother were coming to see him. He was also supposed to have been up for condsideration to get bumped up to level 3.

None of that was happening though. He was sitting in his cell late Sunday afternoon, beginning a period of 24 hour confinement, after being demoted back to level one,

He sat on his bed, knees drawn up to his chest, head down, and was desperately trying to keep the tears at bay. He wanted his father so badly, it was physically hurting, but his father apparently didn't want him.

After all, he hadn't show up to see his eldest son and it left Dean wondering if his father had indeed abandoned him.

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72 hours earlier.

John sat behind the driver's seat of the Impala as he drove himself and his youngest son home from the courthouse. The mood in the Impala was very uncomfortable for both father and son. John had no idea what to say to Sam. Really, their weren't any words to say that could make the situation better. Unable to take the silence any longer John reached over and turned on the radio on. Led Zepplin's Traveling Riverside Blues blared from the speakers.

"This is Dean's favourite song," Sam mumbled under his breath.

"Sammy," John said trying to keep anger out of his voice. He wasn't mad at Sammy, he was mad at himself for getting them into this suituation. "We're going to visit Dean. He'll be fine. I promise."

Shooting a glare at his father, Sam growled, not bothering to hide his anger. "You can't promise that. You're not there...."

"Jefferson is," John defended.

"Whoopee. That makes me feel so much better," Sam grumbled sarcastically. "Like he's gonna see Dean 24/7. Jefferson doesn't know Dean. He doesn't know that Dean doesn't like to take his med...."

John pulled over to the side of the road and shut the engine off. He reached out and tried to pull his son into a hug, but Sam pulled back. "You can't make this better," he accused.

"I know that, Sammy....."

"What about Dean's pencillian allergy? Or the fact that he's allergic to bee stings? Does the detention center know that?"

"Yes," John huffed. He couldn't help it. "Dean's medical records were transfered with him. They have a full medical staff. I trust Dean..."

"I do too," Sam snapped sounding a little insulted. "But you should never had asked Dean, you had to know he would say yes. Can we just go home?"

Turning over the engine, John looked over his shoulder and pulled back into traffic. Sam reached over and turned the radio off when Ramble On started playing. John let it be. He didn't think it was worth arguing about.

When they returned home, John wasn't surprised when Sam ran to his room and slammed the door. He almost wanted to drag Sam back to the kitchen because the house seemed so quiet and empty.

John pulled out his journal. He was recording the details of this hunt when the phone rang. It was some bitch from juvie, who informed John that he couldn't see his son until Sunday. She wouldn't even let him put Sam on the phone to say hello to his brother. Limited visitors hours was something he hadn't planned on and it really threw him for a loop and brought up all his fears and doubts again.

Telling Sam hadn't been fun. It resulted in a shouting match, that the elder Winchester was sure the whole neighbourhood had heard, and ended up with Sam yelling how much he hated his father.

Honsetly, John couldn't blame him, because right at that moment in time, he hated himself more than Sam ever could.

----------------------

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.

"You okay?"

"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?"

"345-555-9346."

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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.

Poor Dean, why he got a year when other got only two weeks or a month.
Things're getting worse for him with Jefferson gone.
What happened that Sunday, for Dean to be in confinement with no visit of John and Sam, can't wait to know.
Terrific work so far adder, I'm looking forward to more

great update...glad to see that there are some friendly fellow inmates with Dean there...he can always use some friendly faces....update when you can we will be here...assuming of course that the alerts work! lol
Lisa