April 3rd 1988

Hello journal of awesome mystery of Dean the man (HJAMDM) for short. It takes too long to write, and I have a cramp. That is not an excuse to change the intro again but if Dad found out about this…I don't want to think about that.

He'll probably throw this away and never let me write again.

Dad's away again and he's mad at me after the whole stupid thing in Fort Douglas. He's so angry at me, he won't look at me half the time and when he does it's with a scowl and…and this disappointed look. I thought he only reserved that for when he pins me in training or I can't speak Latin perfectly. It's been weeks since the incident and he's still mad at me for a stupid small thing.

Well not stupid but what did he expect. I had just turned nine and wanted to celebrate my birthday and he expected me to stay in the room. There was an arcade across the car park and I just wanted to play for a few hours before Sammy annoyed me anymore and…I may have been close to punching him.

…

…

Except I should have stayed in the room with Sammy. Dad did tell me he was hunting a witch type thing that went after small children like Sammy…and I should have listened to that warning. Maybe then Dad wouldn't be mad at me for leaving to little guy. What was I supposed to do, stay until I punched him? Sammy he's just a little boy and he had no idea how annoying he got. He was a little boy who has no idea what's out there, just thinks dad and I are paranoid.

Yeah, Sam finally realised not everybody keeps lines of salt by doors and windows after we had to send him to a babysitter while Dad taught me how to shot a bow and arrow, it took me 6 hours of constant shooting to get the hang of it. When we finally got home Sammy was close to tears, the babysitter had asked him non-stop questions about the salt on the floor and the symbols carved into the wooden things.

Dad made her leave while I had the job or trying to calm Sammy down and tell him why we did all that, no way was I telling him why. He's too young and already has nightmares almost constantly. Well that was a fun experience and I doubt Dad will ever use a babysitter again after that. Maybe he will start to trust me enough to look after Sammy on my own again! I can sure hope.

Since last time I talked in here, Sammy has learned lots of new words and is finally talking properly. He'll go to school this year. I don't want him to, he's really small, really smart (you can tell, all he ever does is ask questions or has his nose in a book called whatever by whoever McGeek), and still has a lot of baby fat on him. Basically he is going to get bullied by anyone and everyone.

At least the little guy will have the teachers wrapped around his finger. Dad more or less started my training to become a hunter like him after…well you know. I already mentioned it. He has a full routine planned out for me; shooting, Latin exorcism, running, tracking, survival techniques, etc. etc.

I wonder who came up with etc. and …

I bet it was there way of saying there is more to say but thou can noteth be bothered to carry thy self on in utter annoyance on my humble audience. Or something like that. I bet they were British or something.

Anyway, back to the story, before I go off into a tangent and totally forget what I was saying in the first place. Let's see I talked (a bit) about Dad being angry at me, Sammy talking fully, the attack, my training, school…SCHOOL. I've not talked about my stupid school.

Well 'cause Dad upped up my training it's harder to finish or even start school work. After detentions and more detentions, Dad finally said to me, if I can't do the work then just give up and shoe the teachers a devil-may-care attitude. Whatever that is?

I think that just means backchat teacher's soo much that they stop caring and nobody will think to mess with me. I still have to tell Dad about all the problems I have with the other kids, what with Dad telling me to keep my head down all the time and not to draw any trouble. With this new plan for me at school maybe, just maybe, I might be able to…fight them off…if I don't just use all my training. Maybe just use the boxing moves Dad showed me and the defensive manoeuvres.

The only problem really is that I really liked school and learning. I didn't want to give that up; I already gave up all my friends when Dad left our home after Mom…Mom died.

Maybe I could do this, could protect Sammy by concentrating (man I hate spelling that word, it's so long, at least its spelt like it sounds) on becoming a hero like Dad. Calling it being a hero makes it sound less scary and more…manly (yes I'm still trying to be a man and not a childlike I really am). Calling it hunting, like animal hunting, makes it sound like I'm killing something innocent, like Bambi whereas calling it being a hero makes it sound like I'm helping the innocent people.

You know what, if it really is helping people I can do this, I can give up school because Sammy is one of those innocents. Dad was right, I'm the big brother, and I have the responsibility to look after Sam, to make sure I know everything possible to keep San safe and protected.

One last note before I leave this for the night.

It's Sammy's Birthday next month. He will be 5, and man isn't that a big age considering what almost happened to him. Burned…Mom…ceiling…

Dean snap out of it. For God's sake, if you don't think about then…well you don't think about it. As I was saying, its Sammy's birthday next month and I have no idea what to get him. Maybe something top cat related…or super hero related. But it would have to be from goodwill. I fell like such a bad brother, why can't I get anything new for Sammy?

Why does it have to be old and hand-me-downs? Just for once I want Sammy to get something new, just one thing. You know what, one day I will and it will be the bestest thing ever. I'll do that, one day I will get Sammy something new. I mean I got lots of new stuff when Mom was still here, and 'cause Dad is still here Sammy should get something new as well.

Man I use lot of (…) don't I. I should really stop doing that and write to the point.

Ohh well. That's something for next time.

Peace out