May 5th, 2006

It was Friday. Thank God. Dean sighed as he pulled the car up to the curb. It seemed endless sometimes, but honestly if he didn't do his job, who would? The low brick building's windows glinted in the early sunshine as Dean walked across the pavement and into the main doors.

Most schools tend to look alike, Dean had seen more than enough in his life to say that. This one wasn't too unique. Identical rows of identical desks sat in identical classrooms. Soon it would be teeming with life, but now it was a tomb-silent and empty aside from a handful of others mingling about in the early morning emptiness, muttering about the bad coffee and insurmountable jam in the single functioning Xerox.

And teeming it was. 27 students was the largest class Dean had ever had. Usually there were around 24, but due to budget cuts and a new map for elementary school partitioning Eisenhower Elementary suddenly had an influx with no extra teachers to cover the growth. Thank God I don't have Gina's class though, she had 25 students but she also had three with ADHD and two who clearly had something else undiagnosed going on. It was 11:30, which meant third grade was transitioning from lunch to recess while he ate at his desk. Not that Dean wasn't social with the other teachers (he was), but he had a pain-in-the-ass project he had to work on for his masters and he had no time at home to do it. So he sat at his desk and hurriedly typed, praying that For the love of all that's holy, please just once have this bulky Dell let me back up everything correctly without ruining the first disk.

Sam glanced at the clock in his office. His report was due in a few days, but he'd manage to get through the files quicker than he had hoped. Normally Hawke didn't accept early work-he thought it unprofessional-so Sam decided to sneak out and take a long lunch. After all, he had nothing else to do.

Walking from his office to the college café was always pleasant, even when the weather was dreary or cold (as it had been the past few weeks). Today was mercifully sunnier, but with the wind it was still cold. He ordered his usual and walked back to the anthropology department, bag in hand. As he munched on the salad he glanced at his phone.

Hey Sammy. You ready for your birthday dinner tonight? Mom said she's making enough lasagna to get you to finally gain an ounce on your skinny butt.

Sam rolled his eyes and cracked a grin. Dean had always been jealous that Sam never had to try too hard to stay in shape, and getting mom to make extra food was something that happened regardless of any suggestions.

Really? I figured you would've gotten her to make extra mostacciolis, given how you always eat them all before the rest of us even get a chance.

Sam waited for Dean's reply.

That happened one time! I was ten and you know how good they are!

Sam shook his head, his hair flopping as he did so.

You still are ten, or at least act it sometimes.

Which is why I'm such an awesome teacher!

You are. I'll see you tonight at six at mom and dad's.

See you then.

The Beretta family house was a modest one. Sam and Dean knew the ranch style home well, from the well-worn hardwood floors in the living room to the large backyard where there had once stood their play-fort. It was home.

Dean arrived a bit before six, pulling his car into the driveway. The Celica wasn't terribly new (it was an '01), but it was still a pretty badass car. The black metallic paint glimmered as he parked it in the driveway. Sam was already here-always showing up half-an-hour early-evident by the navy Jetta parked beside his car. As Dean walked up the brick sidewalk he glanced across the street. He swore he'd seen something out of the corner of his eye, but it was probably just someone's dog.

As soon as he rang the bell he braced himself. He was right to do so as both his parents answered the door and greeted him in a family bear-hug. While neither Andrew nor Paula Beretta were particularly tall, they were strong enough to easily lift their over-six-foot son off the ground when they hugged him.

"Hi mom, hey dad." Dead wheezed as his parents put him down.

"Nice to see you, finally!" Paula teased.

"Mom, it's been less than a week since I was here helping dad try to get the bathroom sink to stop dripping. And we had dinner on Sunday after church!" Dean said, clearly playing into his mother's comments.

"I know, but you know I just love seeing you! How's everything been at the school?" She brought out a plate of pretzels as Dean sat on the sofa next to Sam.

"Fine. Pretty much the same as always. Kids are doing well with the research project we have them doing on the different body systems, though a couple are a bit behind-so I'm gonna have to pull them for some support during science." Dean grabbed a few pretzels and munched, despite knowing the onslaught of food that awaited. He turned to Sam, who up to that point had been busy fiddling with his phone, "What's up with you, Mr. 23-year-old?"

"Not a ton. Got finished writing my report on the new excerpts of Gilgamesh the university got, I have a few days left until they're due so I think I might try and work some more on the translation of the alternate tablets."

"Only you could somehow get so wrapped up in dead languages that you actually land a job where it's all you do." Dean quipped.

"Well, it is a gift. I mean, really we both got perfect jobs." Sam said, nudging his brother in the ribs, "I know I could never be a teacher, I didn't get the maturity of a nine-year-old."

Dean scowled, "Earlier you said it was ten."

"Well, maybe if you're lucky."

Before Dean could retort a timer rang in the kitchen, which meant everything was cool enough to eat. The family moved into the dining room where a feast sat. Three different lasagnas sat on the table-each in its own massive pan. Bread, salad, and sides littered the table to the point where there was no spare space beyond the edge of the plates. Yup, it was a Beretta family dinner.

Sam pulled the Jetta back into the driveway of his house. It had been a long night, and he had eaten enough food to feed a family of four. After a quick shower and change he slipped into bed, looking forward to relaxing and enjoying the weekend ahead…

Sam normally didn't remember his dreams. He assumed he dreamed-it would be weird not to-but he didn't really have any idea what they were. So when he woke up in a cold sweat in the early hours of Saturday, he knew something was off.

A man holding a gun was standing in a bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror. Sam hadn't recognized the man, but the face was etched in his memory. He sighed as he pulled the cold metal up to his forehead. Sam had tried to block out the sound, but the bang followed by a thud were seared into the silence. Sam had felt like vomiting, which is what woke him up.

"Tragic news today as local police found the body of 41 year old Jeff Sadsbury in his apartment in Midland. According to a statement from the Midland Coroner's Office the man died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the forehead. Our thoughts and prayers go out to his family."