June 7, 2006
Dean stood in front of the classroom full of anxious eyes as the clock steadily ticked toward 3:15. "I want to begin by thanking you all for an amazing year. I know third grade is challenging. It's a big change from second. But you did it, all of you. I'm proud of each and every one of you." Dean smiled as he addressed his class in the final minutes before the last bell of the year, "I want you to remember that you all are the future. You are the generation that will change the world. My generation, we've screwed up a lot. There's war, hunger, massive resource shortages, and even with the good economy there's still a great disparity between the poorest and richest people in our nation, let alone the world. But you guys have the intelligence, the determination, and the strength to make this world a better place. Never, ever underestimate yourselves. If you put your mind to something and keep moving forward, you will do great things. Some of you might be doctors that cure cancer, scientists that get us to foreign planets, writers and artists who make masterpieces generations will appreciate and emulate… But regardless of what you decide to do, I know you all can and will be amazing people. So as our year together concludes, I want to wish you all a bright summer and a bright future. Congratulations third grade, I hope your dreams become reality."
It was almost five when Dean finished packing up the last of his supplies into the back of the Celica. He'd stayed to chat with some of the other staff and enjoy the free snacks that were in the teacher's lounge for the last-day party. Finally he had a few months off from his masters and could relax. He exhaled as he started the car; Today was a pretty good day.
A broken window is rarely a good thing. A broken window with blood on the floor behind it is never a good thing. So when Dean saw that the window of Sam's dining room was broken with a pool of blood on the cream colored carpet he immediately dialed 911 and started searching for his brother. Sammy, can't I check in on you once and not find out something's wrong? The rest of the house seemed in order, aside from the kitchen-a half-eaten plate of eggs sat on the counter, next to a bottle of insulin that had gone warm. Shit. Okay, Sammy, where the hell are you? Dean quickly opened the door to the basement, hoping that maybe Sam somehow was down there. Please, come on… The space was empty aside from the washer, dryer, furnace, and handful of boxes sitting in the corner. Sammy, what have you gotten yourself into?!
The police arrived shortly after Dean ascended the basement stairs. After a crime scene investigation crew had taped off the blood stain and a handful of detectives got statements from Dean before he left the house and joined his parents on the front lawn. Paula and Andrew both looked worse for wear. It's amazing how something like this seems to immediately make people look and feel twice their age.
"Mom, Dad…" Dean choked as he embraced his parents.
"It's okay-they'll find him." Paula whispered, placing her hand on Dean's back as she rubbed a small circle between his shoulder blades.
"Come on Dean, there's nothing we can do now. Let's get you home…" Andrew offered a small smile as he placed his hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean nodded as he was led to his car by his father. "Promise me you'll try to get some sleep. I know what happens to you when you get worked up like this, but the police are doing all they can. All we can do now is pray and hope that wherever your brother is there's an angel looking out for him."
Dean's eyes sagged as he sat in the car, "Okay Dad."
"I love you son."
"I love you too."
God, it's me, Dean Beretta. I'm praying to ask that my brother Sammy gets home alright. I don't know where he is, or why he's gone… But please, wherever he is-protect him. Please put an angel of protection on him-a hedge around him from the evil and danger of the world. I know he's in trouble, and I think it might be because of the whole 'evil demon blood' thing-which is total bullshit-but please keep him safe…
Dean rolled over to look at the time on the alarm clock in the dingy motel room. It was almost midnight and he'd been praying on and off for nearly six hours. When he started drifting off behind the wheel he decided it was time to get a room for the night, then continue his journey to get his brother back. First thing in the morning I am going to that sonuvabitch Bobby and getting my brother.
