The Mysteries of Dean Winchester

A/N: Hi! This is my first fan fiction, so I am super duper excited! I am writing this because I read way too many fan fictions and my awesome brother thought I should write one. I am more of a math and science person, so writing is not my forte, but I would love to improve at it. Feel free to leave constructive criticism, any comments, and any ideas you think should happen in this story. I adore the world of Supernatural and am I love with the thought of what Dean and Sam's lives were like when they were kids and how other students and teachers perceived the Winchesters. This story will be an outsider point of view. The outsider will be an extremely curious junior in high school. He is quite observant and curious, maybe a little too much. I will try to be as accurate as possible, but I still apologize for any misinterpretations of characters or other things. If you would like something to change, please just say so:-)

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters*sigh*

Without any further ado, here is ' The Mysteries of Dean Winchester'

It was the second month of my junior year. I thought it was strange that a student would come in at such an odd time in the year. I remember the day he came in like it was yesterday...

I was sitting in AP pre-calculus, my first hour class when he walked in. The door opened and in came a confident-looking teenager. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt, a brown leather jacket, and jeans. He had dirty blonde hair, a mischievous look in his dark green eyes and a fit, muscular looking physique. He was more muscular than the quarterback of the high school. Even for a guy, I am pretty attentive so I didn't miss the dark purple on his lower arm that showed when his jacket lifted to give the teacher the note in his hand.

" Class, this is Dean Winchester, he will be joining us this year, so do your best to include him. Dean take a seat. I think there's an open one right there." Dean nods, struts over to his chair (which happened to be conveniently located at the front of the room, just where Mr. McKinley, our pre-calculus teach, can closely watch), and winks at Lindsay Ford. I roll my eyes and get my graph paper out.

Dean Winchester didn't pay attention all class period. He was writing something down in his notebook or obviously thinking about something else. He would gaze off into the distance and get an intense look on his face that I wouldn't think someone like him( you know, the bad boy, athletic, ladies man)would have. Then, Mr. McKinley would ask him a question and he would answer flawlessly on the first try without any effort. It was really driving me up a wall. He just didn't care about anything, but he did well without caring.

I was extremely curious, so I might have watched him the rest of the day. He seemed kind of friendly. Almost too friendly sometimes. He was at ease with complete strangers. Like he was playing them. Telling them what they needed to hear from him. What I also thought was weird was the way he moved. When anyone was looking he would put on a confident walk, but he was extremely tense. Like he was always ready for someone to attack. It was weird. I tried to think about him as little as possible, but I noticed he would sit with the jocks most of the time and was never alone. It was strange, because even though he was never alone, he seemed like a loner. I really didn't notice anything until about a week later.

It was right before lunch and I was putting my P.E. clothes away in my black duffle bag. The locker room was completely empty until I heard the door creak and someone stumble in. I peaked behind the wall and saw Dean Winchester stagger through the door. Dean, the normally overly confident, suave guy, looked like he was barely holding it together. He seemed to be holding his breath. Like it was hard to breathe or something. He didn't see me, of course;I made sure of that. I saw him lean against a sink, pull a small white pill bottle, some gauze, pressure bandages, a needle, dental floss, and a lighter out of his backpack. I was confused because, really who carried that around with them, especially a teenager. Next, he quickly pulled off his leather jacket and shirt. My eyes widened at what was under. His muscular torso was littered with deep purple and yellow bruises, I assume broken, cracked, or badly bruised ribs. There was white bandages wrapped around his shoulder and all the way down to the bottom of his arm. He quickly unwrapped the old gauze. Underneath, there were many large ugly bruises and a gash, stitched shut, from his shoulder to his wrist.

He then clicked the lighter on and heat up the needle, sterilizing it. Dean took the dental floss, fed it through the eye of the needle, then began to stitch up a part of the wound on his shoulder where the stitches had split open. He didn't cringe, cry, or become weak like many people did with far less pain. He quickly and neatly stitched himself up then wrapped his arm and then his ribs. Dean popped three of the pills, probably painkillers into his mouth. He quickly redressed. Then he did something strange. He looked at himself in the mirror and suddenly his pained look became a glazed one with that same cocky look that usually rode Dean's face. He took a breath, picked up his backpack, and strutted out of the room.

I was thoroughly shocked. The only reasonable explanation I could possibly think of is child abuse. That Dean was being abused by his parents. I have never seen Dean's parents though. He always walks to school. I heard some people say that he has a younger brother that is 12, that he has to walk his brother to the junior high school first. I was way too curious for my own good, so I thought to do a little investigating.

I waited until after school, I had track practice today, so it was late when I snuck back to the main building of the school, no one was there. I became quite acquainted with picking locks in the 5th grade for a project, so I was still quite skilled. In no time at all I was walking down the school hallway, heading for the school archives. I though it was way to easy to get into. I guess they let anyone see the files if they really wanted to. Once I got there, I opened the file cabinet that was labeled W-Z. Near the front was Winchester, Dean. It was a very thick file. I decided to start from the back since that would be the earliest item placed in the file.

It was a report from a teacher in K-4. " Dean was an excellent was always pretty happy and easy going until November. That was the month his mother died. She died in a fire and Dean hasn't spoken a lot ever since.. It's really a shame, he was such an intelligent boy. He has also seems to have certain things that make him snap. Like heat, smoke and sometimes, when he is dropped off in the morning he is particularly withdrawn and all he can does talk about is his brother, Sammy. The attachment to his brother seems unhealthy. I would recommend for Dean to see a child psychologist to help with the aftermath of the loss of his mother."

Ok this was interesting. Dead mother and adolescent psychological damage might explain some behavioral patterns. It was getting late and I needed to get home quickly, so I had the brilliant idea of copying the whole file. It probably took me twice as long to copy it as it would have to read the file. Nonetheless, I had my own illegal copy of my mysterious classmate's life. I carefully put the file back in its proper place, trying my hardest to make it look untouched. I shoved my personal copy into my jacket and jogged home, hopefully my mom wasn't terribly mad that I was home an hour late because track ran late...right?

To be continued... Thank you so much for reading!