Summary:

A/N:Random short, started out as a brainstorming session, then became pretty much a story.

A/N #2: (Contains Spoilers! Up to Season 5): Yes, I do know I write more Dean-centric. My problem is Sam is confusing. Plus they seem to change his characterization a whole lot more. Dean's pretty solid, probably because he has yet to have his own hero's journey/destiny "entire-plot" focus story. The closest he came was breaking the first seal and being Michael's vessel.

Disclaimer: No I don't own Supernatural, if I had, a few characters would be back from the Dead, a few more would join the afterlife, and some would finally come back from "off the bus". Kripke-series creator, and god, I'll miss Ben Edlund Season 9.

Dean's almost out of school. He can hardly wait. He's sick of being known for not knowing how to do things.

He's struggling with his Math homework, logarithmic equations, according to the top of the worksheet. Mrs. Teacher-of-the-year is walking past desks, asking if kids need help.

Dean considers asking her, for help, decides against it. Even if he knew how to ask what he needed help with, it doesn't matter, his future is a whole bunch of salt and burns and blood. He doesn't need to know what a logarithmic equation is. He doesn't need to graduate.

He only needs to remember how to kill without hurting innocents, and that he was good at.

His future is already there… waiting for him, causing him to fall asleep in class. He isn't Sammy, he wasn't meant to get the chance to sit in class and learn, it's rare there's a day where Dad doesn't need him. He's supposed to put Sammy first. That's his job, take care of Sammy. Dad's hunt comes first, than taking care of Sammy, training third, Dean comes fourth, and school work… that's last priority if it gets done at all.

Mrs. Teacher-of-the-year comes back around, her hundred year old face reminding Dean of a shape shifter they killed a week ago that was preying on nursing homes.

"Dean, why haven't you started on your worksheet? Is everything alright?" Mrs. Teacher-of-the-year's eyes are all concerned, her wrinkles in her forehead go deep. Her eyes twinkle with her smile.

Dean smiles his charmer smile. "I'm fine. Just don't feel like it." Dean answers. He's reminded, of his Dad pulling off that shifter's face, and watching the skinless thing slowly die, screaming while being burned alive.

Her lips pucker in disappointment. Another kid who's causing his own failure, potential down the drain. "You're clever, Dean. You know that, right?"

Dean smiled, this smile a little less genuine, a little bit more like he was trying to smile while eating something sour.

"I know." Dean answered.

"You can do anything." Mrs. Teacher-of-the-year replied, keeping up the cliché, like he was any dumb punk kid, in need of inspiration. But he was already inspired. He knew where his life was going, and he even knew where it would probably end, the rest of these kids, they have to figure it out. He pitied them, but didn't at the same time.

"Yeah." He replied, his throat dry and tight. Sam might be able to do anything, but Dean sure as hell, never will. "I know." Dean will spend the rest of his life, a hero; it wasn't as comforting as it had been at the school that Sam loved. Not when no one believes him.

She looked back at Dean, a sad smile on her lips. "Okay, well, if you need any help when you feel like doing it… let me know." She replied.

Dean's heart ached for disappointing her, and knowing that she still had hope in him.

He hated those teachers.

He hated them for making him believe that he actually could graduate, that there was a future for him where that sort of thing mattered.

He hated them for making him feel guilty when he couldn't stay up after a bloody hunt to do his homework, or for falling asleep in class.

He hated that they strengthened his resolve to finish a hunt quick. So they could do their job without knowing what's out there, and so he could escape their empathy.

But most of all, he hated them for working so hard to reach and inspire their students, and knowing that they'd never actually reach him, but trying anyway.

"I will let you know." Dean replied. If he ever felt like doing it.

She walked past him, to the next row of students, looking back, her lips pursed. Then moved her attention to the other students. "Does anyone need any help?" her smile, bright and the darkness forgotten, she was here to save people, just like him. She couldn't focus on those she couldn't.

Like he couldn't focus on finding that little girl from last week that they didn't come back in time to save.

Yeah, he hated her for it.

Fin

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