Chapter One

"Dad, what is this school?" Dean asked, gazing at the mansion with a distasteful look. "You promise you aren't dropping us off at Paris Hilton's home? I swear, Dad, there's things that I wouldn't even do - and she tops the list."

The two other Winchesters snorted. "Yeah, right," John muttered under his breath. "This is a hunters academy."

Sam and Dean looked at each other. "No, seriously," they said together. Even at the ages of nine and thirteen, they were already becoming mirror images of the others personality. "Dad, what is this place?"

"I just told you," John said, shrugging. "Honestly, I hadn't heard of this until a couple of weeks ago. Its a supernatural hunter academy. S.H.A. I thought this would be good for you two. Learn the ropes without getting hurt." It was mainly Dean he was talking to, who had a nasty habit of throwing himself in the line of fire in any predicament. "Its got the same subject as any normal school, too. But from what I heard, they take to the old school cane for troublemakers."

Dean grinned shamelessly.

"I want you especially, Dean, to behave yourself," John ordered, pointing a finger at his oldest with a stern expression. "Alright, lets go."

Sam and Dean went around to the trunk of the Impala and grabbed their bags - John had stocked up for them just for this, clothing, some hi-tech gadgets that the brochure Bobby had stuffed inside a book told them they need to have. Dean built his and Sammy's EMF readers from old walkman's that they didn't want, John becoming surprised at his eldest's knowledge for building things people twice his senior would study long and hard for.

To Dean, it felt like their father was just throwing them to a bunch of strangers and leaving them without contact. Abandoning them. First their mom had to leave, and now John was doing the same on his own free will. As he looked up at his father, he tried to read the older man, yet his father wasn't exactly the easiest person to read. Dean didn't voice what was on his mind, though. That was the kind of thing that got him in trouble, and the last thing he needed was for John to close off all contact entirely.

But John knew this was how Dean was going to react, having a distinct memory of Mary it was only natural for Dean to think he was being abandoned, which was why he decided he'd make it a daily - or weekly - habit of calling his boys. At least until they were completely settled in, then he could space out the time between the calls. He may be a tough hunter, but he wasn't one to neglect or mistreat his children.

A severe looking woman met them at the front desk, it looked like she was suffering a bad bout of PMS. Her hair was tied up into such a tight bun at her head, it looked like it had never been let down before. Her brown eyes were sharp and shifty, years worth of hunting having changed her. Dean noticed there was no frailty about her like there was with the old women outside the door. This was not a woman he would want to cross anytime soon.

"Yes?" she growled at John, who didn't look the least bit shocked at her bad manners. Her gold nameplate on the desk read; Professor Cornmally. "What do you want?"

"I'm here to sign Dean and Samuel Winchester up to the school," John spoke immediately, his minds eye playing a picture of him driving over the highest bridge he could find, and throwing her out of it. "I talked to the headmaster of the school, he told me to sign them up today."

Professor Cornmally leaned over the desk, watching Sam retreat behind Dean - who glared right back at the woman - with distasteful eyes.

"Alright," she said, shaking her head over Sam's reaction to her. She hated children. "Sign here, and here, Mr. Winchester." Professor Cornmally shoved a piece of paper under John's nose, throwing a pen along with it. "You better hurry up there, the new students are already getting assigned rooms."

John scribbled his name down, nodded to the woman, and walked his boys down the hall to where the new students were gathered. He knew already that he couldn't stay any longer, for he overstayed his welcome, and wordlessly embracing both his boys quickly and left, having already said his goodbyes in the old tactic of talking with just their eyes. Sam and Dean watched him leave, and then turned and dumped their bags where the sign written in bold letters instructed them to.

A more kinder, younger woman stood infront of a group of intergender age groups which ranged from three to nineteen. Apparently there wasn't much of an age limit on the people who wanted to join up. Professor Cornmally handed her a slip of paper as she passed, gazing distastefully at the children.

"Hello," the younger woman said, her voice soft - which would be harder to hear in any troubling situation. "My name is Miss Britt, but call me Amy for I'm not one of your teachers. Right, I'm going to call out a list of names, say 'present' when I call out your name."

It seemed to be an alphabetically ordered list of names, and naturally the Winchesters were last to be read off the long list - Sam the last one to squeak present, because Dean's first name had letters that came before his baby brother's. Amy smiled around at them all, and suddenly Dean knew why she wasn't a teacher; she was too nice. When she said 'not one of your teachers', she meant, 'not one of your hunting teachers'. She seemed the English Literature teacher type.

Amy led them through a weights room that was right off of the main entrance, some of the older students were sparring there with guns and machete's, being precise and careful about their movements; because although they were fighting, decapitations weren't something they were aiming for. Upon seeing a bunch of students, they ceased fighting for a moment, and then went back at it with double the vigour.

"This is the training room," Amy told them, "you will be spending most of your time in here before we send you out on practice hunts. This is the only room that you lot are allowed into around the clock."

Dean knew he was going to be spending a lot of time in there, himself. He got angry pretty quickly, and it was nice to know that there was a designated room for him to kick the crap out of anything he wanted. Sam, on the other hand, knew that the only times he was going to be slugging it out in there, was with his brother and just before those practice hunts she mentioned.

By the end of the tour, all of their legs were hurting except for Amy's, who seemed to have been doing this for a while now.

"Alright now, there are two dormitory buildings on the campus," she told the groups of students. "You're belongings have already been put into your rooms, so you don't have to worry. There is a building for the people under the age of eleven, and one for everyone else older than that. I need everyone eleven years younger to form an orderly line on my left, right now please."

Sam squeezed Dean's middle tightly for a moment, and then left to join the twenty other younger kids out of the fifty that were there. Dean didn't like the thought of having to separate from his younger brother, the old mantra to look out for him echoing around his head. Although he knew Sam was going to be safe here, it didn't matter. John had always counted on him to be there for Sam, and now these people thought they had the right to split them up? God fucking damn it.

Dean didn't say a word, though. They hadn't been in the school for longer than fifteen minutes and setting the record for getting kicked out the quickest wouldn't be a good thing to do. Especially not if John had to come trailing back to take them from what he told them was a good experience for them.

"Alright," Amy said, being joined by a buff male with curly brown hair and sharp eyes who stood infront of the pre-teens and teens with his arms folded over his chest. "You lot go with Professor Mackland."

Dean trudged after the group of students around his age, now this was definitely a professor - or a commando by the sheer size of him. This was the kind of person Dean classified as a steroid user. Nobody could get that big.

They were off to the dormitories on the west side of the school, Dean watched as Sam was led toward the east. Dean just wanted to kill somebody.

- - - -

Dean had a dorm room to himself, a second bed on the east wall above the window for anybody else who needed to use the room as well. It reminded the boy of those college movies he saw, and yet regretted. Beyond the window was a cemetary, cut off by a chain link fence with barbed wire up the top. This was the part where he wanted to call John to leave, did they really have students who were killed on campus? Help?

Closing the thick blue curtains, Dean turned around to inspect the room. There was one large desk fitted into the corner of the room near the door, used for schoolwork only - and there was a three inch long knife planted in the center for protection. Not that Dean hadn't brought his own ... that was his knife. He shuddered at the thought of them rummaging through his bag. Dean took the bed near the window, kicking off his shoes and resting his socked feet on the dusty white carpet floor. The walls were a sickly green colour, the colour of phlegm in the morning.

He crashed down on the bed, bouncing up and down lightly, the bedsprings protesting with a loud groan that told the young hunter just how old this bed had to be. Everything in the room was old. It looked to be older than his father.

This was just flippin' great. Dean didn't even have a cellphone with him, and he didn't understand any of the rules here, this place was so far from being home that it wasn't funny, and all he wanted was to be in some backroad motel with his brother, waiting for his dad to come home from a hunt. That was the good life. This? This was like throwing Dean into a cage full of hell hounds, locking it, and throwing away the tree. Torture.

- - - -

Sam, on the other hand, was thrilled. Which wasn't a surprise, considering the youngster loved school. And considering that he didn't have a weapon on him, the school had provided him with a hunting knife that resembled Dean's.

His dorm room was a little bit more brighter, obviously to entertain the youngest students of the school. It was kind of nice to know that the teachers here cared about the little children, although Sam considered himself a lot more older and maturer than his birthdate had made out.

From his window, Sam could only just make out a headstone in the distance near the west dormitories. Now that was chilling. Maybe the school had a flaw, all of them do, yet Sam wasn't going to look a graveyard in the mouth - or headstones.

Closing the curtains he fell onto the bed and closed his eyes. If only Dean were here ...

So how was it? You want more? Please review!