Mrs. Elisa Reynolds stood in the center of a circle of milling Kindergarten students, clipboard in hand, making sure every boy and girl went home with the right person.
"Celeste!" the teacher called out to a little girl with a chubby, cherubic face and golden curls poking out from beneath her pink knitted toque, "Mommy's here!"
The four-year old squealed and ran towards the gate, waiting impatiently for Mrs. Reynolds to let her out.
"Celeste had a great day today," Elisa told the child's mother, "We sponge-painted leaves in art today."
Celeste's mother smiled at the teacher, taking her daughter's hand and led her away towards their parked car.
Elisa checked of the little girl's name and returned her attention to the rest of her students, calling their names one by one:
"Bruce!" "Tammy!" "Calvin!" "Alyssa!" "Emery!"
Until only one student remained.
Little Sammy Winchester stood by the fence, as he did every day since he'd arrived in Mrs. Reynold's class a week ago.
Elisa found herself watching out as well, looking for the telltale figure of the boy's older brother, Dean, who was in the fourth grade.
Mrs. Reynolds checked her watch and frowned. It was getting late and if no one came for Sam soon he would have to sit in the office.
Elisa crouched down so that she was eye-level with the little boy, "Dean is coming to pick you up, tonight, right?"
Sam turned large green eyes to her and nodded, biting his lip.
"He always does," he muttered and turned to stare out past the fence again.
Mrs. Reynolds stood and sighed. It seemed as soon as Sam Winchester had set foot in her class the other children had known he was different. Sure, the boy's clothes were often too big for him; the legs of the jeans rolled up to fit, the shirts baggy, and he only had a thick brown sweater to wear outside, no jacket in sight. His hair was long for a boy his age and he looked a little too thin, but he was always clean, his clothes always neat despite clearly being hand-me-downs.
The other children in the classroom had taken one look at Sam Winchester and decided that he was an outsider, something Elisa had never seen in all of her thirty years of teaching. Normally the children, even as young as four and five-year olds were eager and happy to show a new student around the classroom, invite him or her into their games and make them feel as welcome as possible.
That had not happened with her students and with Sammy Winchester.
The boy played alone, worked on his math and language sheets alone, ate his snacks alone.
Shocked and saddened by the sight, Elisa had gone to the boy and asked him what was wrong, thinking that perhaps he was unhappy with the isolation but to her surprised he had only shrugged and said that he wouldn't be staying at the school very long.
Despite the child's alienation, Elisa also noticed that he was very smart. He had a thirst for knowledge and often sat much more still during 'circle time' then the other children, an unusual trait for such a young child. Sam often finished the worksheets and curriculum activities much faster then his peers, the first to choose a free-time project.
What was even more odd was that Elisa had only met the boy's father once. John Winchester had dropped both his sons off the first day they started at the school, pulling up to the Kindergarten entrance in a black, classic car. He had spoken to Mrs. Reynolds only to tell her that Dean would be the one to pick Sam up at the end of the day since he would be working during the time school let out.
They're a little young to be latchkey kids, Elisa thought to herself as Mr. Winchester's car had rumbled out of the parking lot, and looked down at the smiling, open face of little Sammy.
"DEAN!"
Elisa was jolted out of her musings on the boy when he cried out happily at the sight of his sibling.
The eight-year old was walking down the sidewalk at a hurried pace, looking more then a little frazzled. His sneakers were untied and his jacket was open, as though he had dressed in a hurry, his backpack hanging at a jaunty angle over one shoulder.
"Hey Sammy!" Dean called, his tone happy but Elisa could see he wasn't smiling.
"Is everything alright?" she asked, concerned, placing a hand on Sam's tiny shoulder.
Dean, his green eyes meeting the teacher's for a split second, grinned, "Yes, Ma'am. I'm sorry I was late, I had to finish something for Mr. McGregor before he let me go."
Elisa nodded and opened the gate, allowing the two brothers to meet. Sam crashed into Dean, hugging him tightly.
"Whoa Squirt!" Dean cried, "Are you getting stronger or what?"
The four-year old looked up at his brother and giggled.
"Thanks Mrs. Reynolds," Dean said and took his sibling's hand in his own.
"Sammy, say bye to Mrs. Reynolds," the older boy instructed and the child peered over his shoulder, waving his hand, "Bye!"
Elisa waved back, smiling and had a strange feeling that she was not going to see little Sammy Winchester tomorrow morning.
Author's Note:
Just a quick little one-shot showing what a day-in-the-life of a young Sam and Dean might have been like when they were still children. Sorry that nothing exciting happened but I wanted to write it. I guess there's a little bit of fluff, which is always good too.
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