Dark and Dirty

Prologue

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June 8th, 1994

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Fifteen year old Dean Winchester shut the door of the Impala, giving his father a brief wave before he turned to look at the school, he could feel the presence of his little brother Sam come by his side. This did not seem like a good high school. For starters, there were people smoking every few feet; it seemed hard not to miss the smoke billowing out of peoples mouths. Immediately, Dean pushed Sam into the direction of the elementary school, not wanting him to get ideas from this. There were girls near Dean's age--and some that were only just thirteen, not an encouraging sign--in revealing clothes, hanging off boys arms. And under the privacy of a tree there was people doing drugs, getting high before school went in.

No, this was definitely not a good school. Dean pushed through the crowds of people, and even a flirtacious guy like him was smart enough not to go for any of the girls here. He didn't know what diseases they had, or if any one of them had the ability to kill him ... and he wasn't ever going to be ready to find out. As soon as he stepped inside of the building, the wailing bell rang, and he winced. It couldn't have been that big of a school that the bell had to be that loud. Still, he pulled out the slip of paper he had stuffed into his pocket and tried to use it like a map to find his way to his locker.

It wasn't easy, a few times he had almost gotten a one-way trip to the principal's office for his tardiness, getting directions toward the west lockers that confused him even more, and when he tried to find his way, he ended up on the east lockers instead.

"Lost?" a guy asked, closing his own locker, a distinct British accent dripping in every syllable of his words.

He had hair as black as the night, bright blue eyes and a necklace that matched the colour. If the place was dark, his eyes and necklace would stick out unlike the rest of his body. He was tall--Dean's height, and his skin was deathly pale as if he had not seen sunlight in years. Yet he had a very strong build, football or wrestling team kind of build, but he wasn't too muscled and not too lanky. A good mix of both.

Dean nodded, a small smile flickering on his face. "Yeah, I'm new," he said, shrugging. "I don't exactly know how to find my locker."

The boy held out his hand for the slip of paper and recognition spread through him.

"I know where that is. Come on, I'll take you." He started walking slowly, picking up the pace a little bit when Dean joined him. "I'm Alex Black, by the way. I'm in year nine, what about you?"

"Dean Winchester," Dean introduced himself.

Alex Black was silent for the rest of the way, and it didn't seem like he was into talking that much; Dean figured that maybe when he had offered to show him where he was supposed to be, it was just a show of being nice, not that he was anything remotely verbose in the first place.

"Here," Alex said, pointing out the locker. "What class are you in, anyway?"

"Biology ... with Mr. Jefferson," Dean replied, twisting his combination onto the lock, he did it right, but it didn't unlock. "Um, this isn't opening, and I'm sure I did it right."

Confidently, Alex strode forward and lifted a closed fist and gave a sharp pound onto the door and it squeaked open. "You got the broken one, I'm afraid," he said, shrugging. "Just do what I did and it'll spring right open. I'll tell Jefferson about you, and that you got lost." Swiftly, Alex turned around and walked out of the corridor as if he were gliding, not walking.

Dean stuffed his books inside, plucking out his biology textbook again, and slammed the door, wishing he knew where to find his Biology room. If only Alex had stayed for just a few more minutes, he wouldn't have had to worry about it. Yet he need not have worried.

Biology with Jefferson was only through the corridor, around the right corner and the first door on the right. He knocked loudly and interrupted a speech on the natural wonders of Papua New Guinea and the animal world. Jefferson was an old, balding man with half moon spectacles. The man did not look pleased at being interrupted, but still answered the door.

"Dean Winchester?" he asked, reading the slip of paper Dean had also pulled out of his pocket. "Yes, well, come sit down next to Mr. Black--" Alex gave a tiny wave to let Dean know that it was him that Jefferson was talking about, "--you got your textbook? Good. Now, where was I? Ah, yes the natives to ..."

Dean made his way down the aisle and dumped his stuff by Alex, who seemed to look a little more tense than he had been out in the hall. For a moment, the middle Winchester tried to figure out why that was. And then as Jefferson turned away to write something on the board, he found out.

"Oi, Alexa!" a boy just behind Alex and Dean whispered, throwing a scrunched up piece of paper at Alex. "Why don't you crawl back to your parents, huh? I'm pretty sure there's still room in their graves for you."

Dean's mouth dropped open as Alex's eyes squeezed shut. That was a horrible thing for anyone to say, and Dean knew it. He knew what it was like to have a deceased parent, although not both. Just his mom. And that was a really disgusting, horrible comment for anyone to make on someone elses dead parents. Dean didn't understand why Alex was not saying something to get back at the bitch, he just sat there taking it.

"Then again, it would probably be like hell for their spirits to know their screw up son was sharing a grave with them," the boy continued, pausing only when Jefferson turned back around momentarily. Alex was shaking now, a wet line straying down from his eyes. "But that is the same for everybody isn't it? Its a wonder that the new kid can sit next to you. I bet you that the only reason your parents died was to get away from you--"

"Shut UP!" Alex screamed, leaping off his seat, swinging his fist around to connect with the boys jaw and sending him sprawling off of his seat. "You know nothing about my parents!" He leapt over the bench and beat into any part of the boy that he could get his hands on. "Don't talk about what you don't understand!"

Dean, however much he approved of the violence Alex was showing against this asshole, ran around the bench and pulled Alex away, wrestled him away until he was firmly pressed against the wall with no hope of getting back out again.

"What the devil is going on here?" Jefferson shouted, marching down the aisle with a puce-coloured face. "Fighting in my classroom? I won't have it! Alex, down to the principal's office immediately! Immediately!"

"Sir," Dean began. "It wasn't Alex's fault--this kid made fun of his dead parents, surely that was enough to provoke someone?" If not, then this school had extremely unfair policies. Alex was a hundred percent provoked.

Jefferson was still livid and seething. "All three of you down to the principal's office!" he shouted, turning around to write a slip for all three students. "I will not tolerate any of this, you want to fight? Do it outside my classroom!"

"What the hell did I do?" Dean demanded, releasing Alex who stood still, his necklace shining more brighter than ever.

"You thought you had the authority to run my classroom," Jefferson explained--or shouted--electing three students to take them down there to make sure they did actually get there. That excuse was not nearly a good enough excuse. "Now get out!"

Confused and angry, Dean led the way out of the room with Alex hot on his heels, the boy with a bleeding nose on the floor having to be helped out, much to Alex's vicious delight. Dean didn't even know why he was sent down anyway, just because he had explained to the teacher what had happened, and that it was not fair, did not constitute the right to send him down like he had been the one in the wrong. Alex had not even apologised to him for this. On his first day, Dean had set the record for being sent to the principal's office. If his father ever heard about this, he would be so pissed off, it would not be funny.

"My, my," the principal said, a soft looking woman who was becoming a little bit rounded in the middle. "Fighting in the middle of Biology? Not good. Not good at all--"

"Miss," Alex interrupted quickly, his voice soft as if he had problems with wanting to speak. "Dean wasn't sent here for fighting, he was sent here for trying to stick up for me in Mr. Jefferson's class."

"Is that so?" Dean was really beginning to hate this woman, she was questioning almost everything they say. "And why was Dean, here, sticking up for you?"

Alex didn't look like he wanted to talk any longer, so Dean took over. "Because when Alex was going to get sent down with out this bitch here," he pointed to the boy who had made those filthy comments, "it was because he threw the first punch. But. I don't think poking fun at someone's deceased parents is right, and Alex reacted how anyone would have reacted. Hell, I would have ripped his head off for it. Its not right, Miss."

The principal's eyes rested on the boy. "So, Jeremy, you've made more comments on Mr. Black's parents? I hoped that the third time you were brought down here for that would be the last time, and I am sick of giving you another chance. I am calling your parents to come pick you up, starting today you are on a ten day suspension."

"What about him?" Jeremy shouted, pointing to Alex who glared daggers at him. "He punched me!"

"In my eyes, it was called for. You do not say bad comments about the dead, it has a nasty way of biting back at you. Call me a superstitious old lady, but I think that befouling the dead can make you die a more torturous death that anyone can imagine." She shook her head with pursed lips, and then picked up the cord-phone and dialled a number she seemed to have gotten to know off by heart.

Jeremy bowed his head as she conversed to his parents, explaining the situation and loud voices suddenly burst out of the phone, muffled by some static. By the sounds of his mother, she was not happy with her son. Alex crossed his arms over his chest with a smug smile, happy that this had finally been brought to justice.

He had been waiting too long for someone to act on the comments about his parents--he knew he did a long time ago, and while a lot of him regretted what he had done to get his own justice, some part of him didn't. It was the only impulsive thing he had done in his life, yet it brought it down in shambles. Okay, so maybe he regretted doing what he did a whole lot. But not this, definitely not this.

Jeremy's infuriated parents burst into the office not fifteen minutes later, they yelled at their son for a minute before sitting down to discuss the matter with the principal, who kept a stoic mask on for the whole thing. His parents also agreed that Alex's punishment should only consist of three days worth of detentions should be fitting. After all, being provoked in that kind of way surely would get a reaction out of most. Dean didn't get a punishment this time, though he had a feeling he would be making visits almost daily if his regular schedule of prankster and troublemaker got the best of him. He was already getting comfortable with the grey chintz chair.

"You may go," the principal said to Alex and Dean. "And do not get into any trouble!"

- - - -

Alex quickly became the most hated guy in the school, and Dean found it hard not to become friends with him, just so that he wasn't alone. Alex looked like the type to be on his own a lot. No friends, no nothing. Just a hundred percent lonliness for him. It was rather sad.

"Is this a regular schoolday for you?" Dean asked as Alex ducked another basketball aiming toward his head. "Or do they hate you because you got that Jeremy kid suspended?"

Alex launched that basketball over the fence and onto the road. "This is a typical school day for me," he said, "although part of it is because of Jeremy's suspension. All the guys mainly hate me because I look way better than them--flawless, some might say. I'm not stuck up or anything, I find myself quite nice to people. If only I got that same response back." He was still muttering, and it seemed like it was more to himself that Dean.

Dean didn't comment on that, he didn't know what it was like to be bullied to that extent, so there was no comfort or words of advice that seemed good enough to give to someone who got this kind of treatment everyday.

Eventually, they hid out under a tree, still silent because none of them had anything particulary important or worthy to say.

All Dean was thankful for, was at least when his mother died, he had something to fall back on. Something that he now wished he could say for Alex, who seemed to be the lonliest kid he had met.

- - - -

"Dean!" John called a week later when his eldest came through the door, sweaty because he had been playing one-on-one basketball with Alex. "Go pack your stuff; we're leaving."

Dean's eyes went wide. "What?" he asked, not understanding that what he had just done was questioning his fathers judgement. "What? We're leaving? Dad, we can't leave! I only just--" The look on John's face was enough to stop him.

"Are you questioning my authority?" John questioned darkly.

"No, sir. But--"

"Go upstairs and pack!" John ordered immediately. "This kind of behaviour I expected from Sam, but not from you. Now go upstairs, Dean. I will not tell you again!" He jerked a finger in the direction of the stairs, keeping it there until Dean turned on his heel and stomped away.

That was not fair! The first good friend Dean had ever made, and now he was being forced to leave him? Where was the justice in that? He had been getting along so well with Alex--even if Alex didn't talk much.

"It sucks, doesn't it?" Sam asked, smiling ruefully at the expression on his brothers face. "Now you know how it feels like for me whenever we have to leave. Its why you should never get attached to one place, because dad will make you move again."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean sighed, stuffing all of his clothing inside his bag. And then there was nothing but the sounds of packing for minutes. "Did dad tell you when we were going to leave? I have a friend that I need to say goodbye to." Because he wouldn't be able to handle Alex thinking that he had just been forgotten, like a piece of trash scattered in the wind.

"First thing in the morning," Sam replied sullenly. "We're not going to go to school tomorrow."

Dean stared at his little brother as if he had been kidding around, the expression on Sam's face, though, contradicted his thoughts. "Wait there a second," Dean ordered, throwing down his shirt on the bed and racing out of the room. "Dad, I need to go do something for a minute."

"Hold it!" John called in his commanding tone that made his eldest stop instantly in his tracks. "Where do you think you are going, Dean? I told you go upstairs into your room and pack up your belongings."

Dean nodded. "I know, Dad," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "But there is something I need to do--something that will only take a couple of minutes."

"Stop! What is it?" John asked quietly.

Taking a deep breath, the middle Winchester answered, "I just need to go say goodbye to my friend. See he's got this--"

"No." The eldest Winchester didn't even have to pause to think. "No, you go upstairs and pack. I'm sure your friend will understand eventually that you couldn't stay. That you had to move on quickly."

Dean's eyes went wide. "It'll just be a few minutes," he protested. "You won't even know I'm gone! I need to say goodbye to him, I can't let him think that I just abandoned him, that's not right!"

"He'll get over it," John assured, shaking his head. "What have I told you, son? Never get too attached to anything because we're never going to be able to stay long enough. Friends, especially. Its just not possible to stay."

This was unfair. "But I need to say goodbye! Its okay whenever Sam wants to say goodbye to friends, but not me? This is the first friend I've made since mom died, and you're just going to ruin that, and then not give me the chance to say 'see you later' or anything?"

"Don't use that tone--"

"It was alright when you were growing up," Dean shouted over the top of him, finding that easier so he didn't have to listen to anymore orders. "You got the chance to have friends and stuff like that, but you won't even give your own children that right!"

"The thing that killed your mother--"

He snapped. "She's DEAD! No matter what you do, she is NOT coming BACK! Mom is dead, and you should get used to it!" Dean knew that no matter what, he wasn't going to be allowed out, and so he raced up to his room and slammed the door, feeling a lot like Sam.

- - - -

The next day, Alex felt abandoned.

To Be Continued ...

How was that for a starter? I know I had Dean break character in that last bit, but I swear that it was only to make that final segment work. I doubt anyone would be able to handle having to leave your first friend without a goodbye. I reckon Dean acted accordingly. And the final sentence broke my heart to write, Alex Black is in my series I am writing to get published, its called 'Dark Enigma', and I've grown so attached to his sweet and sensitive behaviour that it was hard. Really hard. Yet, it had to be done. Chapter one jumps up to 2007, which is around the time of the second season. Enjoy it when it comes!