When the Cradle Falls

Chapter One: Broken Bow

1994

Broken Bow, Nebraska

Broken Bow High School

A harsh winter was an absolute for the year ahead. School had only been in session for a few weeks, and the trees had already been stripped bare, leaves beyond brown crumples, completely disintegrated. At least we'll be gone by then, a hopefully bitter little voice in a floppy haired head thought.

"Did you hear the new guy pegged Alice Mercer?"

"That arrogant prick in the smelly leather jacket?"

"Yeah. Dean Winchester. A sophomore."

"Really? Damn. What do you think he had to do to hit that? Sell his soul?"

"But it'd be so worth it."

A small, quiet Sam Winchester glanced up from the book he was reading towards the dumb jocks in matching letterman jackets. They lumbered by, unashamedly hooting at what they would do to get into Alice Mercer's pants—which would never happen—and what they would do when they did get into said pants. Leafing the pages, Sam let out a mirthless huff at his brother who just couldn't help himself, but mostly for the irony of the dumb bastards' words. Those stupid trolls had no idea what they were talking about. They didn't know Sam could take them both down was a swift kick to the knee or a punch to the throat. Those were only two of the near fifty ways Sam knew to take someone down with just one move. He didn't stop them when one of them slammed into him where he sat on the brick wall, spilling the book from his lap.

"Nerd," one of them hissed maliciously.

Sighing tiredly, Sam waited until they passed, letting them have their fun. As they walked away, he picked up the book and imagined all the ways he could make them cry with it.

Sam ultimately decided it wasn't fair since he didn't even go there; he attended Broken Bow Middle School, adjacent to the high school, a smaller, yet equally soul-crushing institution. Yet, here he was, forced to wait for his idiot older brother to finish his gallivanting around the school, because apparently at eleven and a half years old, Sam wasn't trusted to walk back to the motel alone. Yes, it was on the other side of town, but in a community comprised of less than four thousand, the other side of town was really only a couple of blocks away. Forget that he'd just taken down a werewolf a few weeks earlier.

He went back to reading Dracula.

A voice broke Sam's reverie. "Really? That's the book you want to read? 't's not even accurate."

"Please. Like vamps are real," Sam muttered, using a book as a sun-shield. He glanced up at Dean, standing there in his notorious, too-large bomber jacket, lips puckered, truly believing he was the hottest shit there was.

Sam just shook his head and stood. "Let's just go," he muttered, as they began their trek back to their temporary home.

The town was typical. The main street held brick buildings with weak awnings, painted storefronts with unnecessary merchandise. Jojo's Jojoba's. Ritz Barber. First Street Barber. Main Street Barbershop. And lots of barbershops. The town held a kind of retro taste, a relic that could transverse to any town across the Midwest. See one, see 'em all.

"How much longer do you think we'll be here?" Sam asked, careful not to sound too whiny. He was careful to avoid the uneven pavement, noticing how Dean almost floated over the surface.

Dean shrugged. "Dunno. It's a whole nest of wraiths. May take some time."

Sam wilted. "Thought it was only one."

"Nope. Dad called last night while you were being a nerd. Said it was a whole bunch."

It's called studying. "Oh."

They walked in silence. "I'll bite. Why are you so mopey today, Sammy?"

"Cause I'm in middle school," he muttered sarcastically.

"Fair enough—but really." Dean scrutinized his brother.

"It was just some guys…"

Dean stopped. "What'd they do?" he growled slowly, dangerously.

"Nothing, Dean. God you don't have to solve every problem by beating someone up."

"Maybe you should solve some, then, Sam. You know you could kick someone's ass who's twice your size."

Sam shook his head. As much as he wanted to...he couldn't. "And it's not even that, Dean. It's what I heard them saying."

"What?" Dean was still suspicious, digging both hands deeper into his black-hole pockets.

"It was some girl. Alice Mercer?"

A sneaky, delighted grin started to spread across Dean's face. His posture improved and the hands slowly began to remove from the pockets of the jacket. "Yeah?"

"They said the new guy-you...did it with her…?" Sam tried very hard to not look as uncomfortable as he felt. He felt an itch deep within his brain that he tried to scratch at, no doubt making him look like he had Tourettes.

Dean laughed and clapped a heavy hand on Sam's shoulder. "Well, I can't say I can't deny it. But yeah. We slept together. We had sex. You can say it, Sam, I'm sure God will forgive you." Dean looked slyly to the side. "Can't say the same for myself." Proud of himself, he puffed his chest out.

Coughing, Sam momentarily focused on the seventh barbershop they passed. "Alice Mercer?" Sam had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Yep. A senior. Gorgeous. She has the whole good girl facade, but she's really a bit of a tease. And she has this…"

Sam zoned and suddenly was shot back to the middle school library. It'd been one of the first days they were there, and Sam hadn't yet had the courage to wait outside the high school for Dean. He was sitting, with a dusty textbook in front of him, handouts from English class strewn around him. The library had been quiet until he heard soft crying.

Snapping his head around, he noticed a blonde headed seventh grader—Cassidy McCormick, he was pretty sure. Her bouncy ponytail bobbed up and down. On the desk in front of her was some kind of exam with red slashes marking up the entire thing. Besides her, though, was an older girl. This girl was obviously an upperclassman at the high school. She was small breasted, with large hips-among other things-a proud nose, and a smattering of freckles across the bridge and onto her cheeks. Her eyes were wide and brown, hair the same shade in soft, natural waves. Her outfit was non-descript—a tight-fitting t-shirt, light wash jeans frayed at the ends, and high-top sneakers. A silver necklace of some sort fit closely to her throat.

"Come on now, Cassidy, it's just one test." The girl comforted the younger one, leaning forward, nudging the paper away from Cassidy.

"Alice, you don't understand because you're so smart! My parents will kill me!"

The older girl, Alice, sat down beside Cassidy, and laughed softly. "I've failed my share of tests before, trust me. And believe me, there's a lot worse of things you can do than fail a test. It's not the end of the world. You know, a mistake is the beginning of a new chance." Her voice was low, slightly gravelly, but with a wavery, unsure aspect to it.

Slightly comforted, Cassie steeled herself and began to flip through the test. Alice went on, softly pointing out things they could work on. Sam swallowed and quickly turned around.

"I think I know who you're talking about," Sam managed, coming back to his brother.

Pleased, Dean asked, "Pretty impressive, huh?"

"I guess so."

"I know so." Dean smirked ridiculously.

Sam still couldn't believe Alice Mercer was a tease. He'd only looked her full on in the face four times. And each time they locked eyes, he could see her resting face made her look terrified. It was a sweet effect that made Sam want to protect her. He was naïve to think it would have the same impact on his brother. He still wondered, why did everyone talk about her in such a way?

Sure, they all thought it but saying those things out loud was so ugly.

"How'd you get her to sleep with you?" Alice was obviously too good for Dean.

"I just threw out a few lines of Shakespeare. Apparently she likes to read."

"Yeah. I've heard she's really smart. I think she tutors kids at the middle school." Sam fought hard for a level voice, finally glad he could sit down on his bed and face away from Dean, taking a long time to untie his shoes.

"She definitely taught me a few things the other night."

"That's great, Dean."

Smiling, Dean flopped down onto his bed, hands behind his head. "Man, I wouldn't mind hanging here a little while longer."

But, even a little longer could make a world's difference.

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