Sam rushed into class. Late. His Dad had just dropped him and Dean off to their respective classes. Sam was only five and Dean had just turned ten. Mrs Davis, the class teacher smiled at Sammy,
"Come here, Sweetie." Sam walked over to her, as she sat on her chair in the reading corner,
"Good morning, Ma'am," he said politely,
"Morning, Sam. Why are you so late, honey?" She asked. Sam frowned in concentration, trying to remember the story his Dad had made him memorize,
"I…Well Dean set the alarm clock, but then last night there was a black out, just for a minute, but then that made the clock reset and then the alarm didn't go off this morning…" the teacher smiled encouragingly. Sam was a quiet child and she wanted him to come out of his shell more, so she allowed him to keep talking.
"So then I got up, and Daddy was like, 'Sammy quick you and Dean are running late', and he poured my milk, but it didn't taste good so he had to make toast and then Dean lost his bag, and…" he froze, panic etched across his features. Had he said anything that would give away Daddy's secret? He didn't think so, but how could he be sure, he'd been rambling! Mrs Davis frowned as the young boy suddenly stopped, looking for all the world like he'd just uttered a filthy oath.
"Are you okay, Sam?" He nodded quickly, eyes wide, and she sighed. He had reverted back to his silent mode. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed one of the children push another, so she jumped up, admonitions already leaving her lips. Sam let out a sigh of relief as his teacher rushed away. Daddy was always very strict about their secret. He said it was really really important. Dean said it was too, so Sam had to be grown up and not tell anyone, not even a best friend...although he was pretty sure Dean was his best friend anyway...