Chapter 1:

Fire, fire everywhere. He was in a clearing in the woods. The flames were closing in. The orange and red fingers licked at the vegetation. It transformed what once was green life into thick black smoke and smoldering ash. From somewhere in the flames came a scream.

"Dean! Please Dean, help us!"

He was just barely able to make out a blonde haired woman clutching a crying child to her breast. Her eyes full of fear and pain. Dean wanted to run to her, to comfort her, but he was frozen in place. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make his body listen to the commands he was so desperately crying out.

Then the wall of flame overtook the woman and child. Now they were one with the blaze. Dean was now able to run to the edge of the flames. He screamed out to her, waiting for an answer he knows he wouldn't get. He sunk to his knees and slowly let the flames consume him.

When the alarm sounded, Dean found himself tangled in sheets half on the floor half on the bed. The violence of this recurring nightmare was easily noticed; an overturned night stand, rugs scrunched up and tucked partially under the bed, and then blood that was caked under Dean's fingernails. The blood was a new addition to his nightly hell.

After he got over his initial confusion, Dean realized it was his blood. During his torturous dream he had started to claw at himself, leaving gashes across his chest and abdomen. Filled with a mixture of worry, exhaustion, and ambivalence; he picked himself up off the floor and then he began his morning routine of picking up the mess his nightmare caused him to make.

Swearing and muttering his annoyance, he made his bed and straightened the furniture. Once the room was back in order, and once the room was sans blood, he made his way to the bathroom where he observed his handy work in the mirror that hung over the sink. It would appear that he had caused more damage than he originally thought. The gashes were few in number, but the depth was enough to make a squeamish person faint.

With a sigh Dean turned on the shower and started to prepare for the day. Once showered, Dean dressed his wounds and was barely effected by the sting from the lacerations. He quickly finished getting dressed (his typical dress pants and a button down with a tie) and rushed out the door with a banana (rabbit food as he considered it). Why did high school have to be so damned early?

It wasn't that he minded teaching high school Biology to a bunch of teens that couldn't care less about the citric acid cycle or ecology, he just though his life would be different from what it was. Had you asked as an eighteen year old young man what he thought his life was going to be, he would have answered that he was going to serve his country until his dying breath. He planned on that meaning fighting next to fellow marines for the safety of those he loved. In the end, serving his country meant educating the minds of the next generation.

He guessed that being an ex-marine and a recently divorcee with PTSD and recurrent nightmares kind of messed that up for him. He still remembers the day his commanding officer pulled him aside and told him that he had to go get a psych evaluation. That was the moment he knew that his time as a marine was over. No doctor in his right mind would clear him fit for duty, especially after his episode a few nights ago that ended with his bunk mate pinned to the ground, blood dripping from his nose. The poor guy, all he had done was reaching out and grabbed Dean's shoulder to get his attention.

Having been caught in his own mind, Dean hadn't realized he had gotten in his car and driven to the school and taken up his spot in the staff parking lot. Noticing the time, and realizing he had to be in the class room in three minutes, Dean slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and ran into the main building.

He couldn't help but feel like today was going to be a long day. He especially dreaded today because of the research paper. If it were up to him, he wouldn't assign a paper at all. It was biology for Christ's sake! They were supposed to slice open animals and learn about life, not waste precious teenage moments with research papers. It was a school requirement. Rather than take tests at midterm, students were required to turn in an essay for each class. He guessed it was better than forcing kids to hunch over a desk making sure they completely filled in the bubble with a number two pencil.

"Alright kids," Dean's voice boomed as he walked into the lab where his class was held. "Don't even bother taking your things out today. We are heading straight for the library for research paper time." His announcement was met with groans from the students. "Hell! You think I want to waste my weekend grading those bastards?", Dean said with exasperation. The reason why he was such a well-respected teacher Is that he was strict, but fair. And the swearing showed he didn't have a stick up his ass like almost every other teacher at that school. Swearing was a habit he picked up in the service and it just stuck with him. Administration didn't really care, considering that his classes had the highest success rates in the entire school.

"Here we go, move out", Dean said with a bowed head pointing at the door. The shuffle of reluctant teenagers' footsteps filled the room and poured out into the hallway. Dean's shuffling feet joined the chorus of angst in the hall. He hated the library more than his students would ever know. The librarian, Meg, was constantly hitting on him. It was highly unprofessional, and it made him feel really uncomfortable.

Entering in the library, Dean heard a student say, "Mr. Winchester's Biology one class". That is when he heard Meg say, "Oh Clarence, see? Easy as pie. Think you can manage?" Dean guessed that she had been given an affirmative and continued, "Well, I can't say I'm sorry to leave this little rat hole. Good luck."

Meg walked out the door passing Dean on her way out the door, "But you sugar, you I am really going to miss." Dean's response was an eye roll followed by, "Sorry that the feelings won't be mutual" Meg just smiled and said, "Aw, that would hurt my feelings… if I had any" And with a flick of her hair, she was gone.

"Good riddance" he muttered as he closed the door behind him. Dean abruptly stopped. He found himself staring into sapphire eyes that shone brighter than he had ever seen. He can only assume that he looked like a fool with his mouth hanging open staring intensely into those deep pools that swallowed him whole.