I own nothing. Title from the song 'Jacksonville' by The Killers.
Jacksonville
He was the scruffy new kid on the first day of school, wearing too big second-hand clothes and a wary expression. The popular crowd glanced at his clothes, watched as he got the free food at the cafeteria and sneered at him.
By the second day he was a delinquent, two fights, a black eye and a detention. The average kids, the studious and hard-working, turned away from him and hid when he walked past, watched the smirk on his face and the cocky stride from beneath their lashes. They wished they were him, could stand up for themselves, but didn't want that attention.
On the third day he became the outcast. Talked to by no one, talked about by everyone. His father was a drunk, he had been kicked out of a bar last night and he was only fifteen, he was on the run, he had been expelled from thirteen schools, he'd bashed a teacher at his last school. The rumours fell thick and fast. Insults were yelled at his back, but even the worst bullies in the school were cautious, had their friends behind them, though he didn't do anything but smirk and walk away.
After the first week of school, everyone knew Dean Winchester.
Except they didn't. And they never would.
