Chapter Three

Professor Cromwell

Evanston, Illinois…

The smell of the cool wind and the sight of red, yellow and orange leaves proved to be a perfect autumn. Northwestern University was a beautiful structure and the campus was set with perfect-cut green grass and marble tables and benches. Students eagerly left or entered the building; some were seen sitting at the cold tables talking with friends and drinking coffees. A normal college life could be seen a mile away. The young adults smiled and laughed and others anxiously waited on friends by the large stone steps of the entrance.

It had only been yesterday when they had switched the artifact for a fake replica. Now, Dean and Sam, dressed in their regular attire – Sam in his brown jacket and Dean in leather – the two had parked the car a block away and walked toward the school along the sidewalk. Sam admired the building and setting around him. Across the street was a small outlet that had a book store, a coffee shop, and some type of dry cleaning-washing place. He missed the college life. It was a slight reminder that Sam had completely deserted the idea of law school. But he had a purpose. He was twenty-two-years-old and at this point in life Sam should have been thinking of what to look forward into the future.

All he had was now. The hunt.

His gently brown eyes gazed at the campus as he and Dean made their way across the grassy campus and toward the entrance. Sam had his eye on the university banner above them. Dean, however, was looking meticulously at several girls discussing something by the steps. His James Bond persona came out and Dean cracked a half-smile and winked at the girls. He could hear them giggle and see the red in their cheeks as the Winchester brothers walked up the entrance steps and stepped through two large mahogany doors.

O.O.O.O.O.

"Why are we here specifically?" Dean asked again. Sam had chosen this place and this place only for the beginning of their research.

"Told you," Sam explained easily, "I know someone who can help. A professor."

"Well I hope this professor isn't some old, annoying hag who suggests we go to the museum," Dean sighed. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket as Sam opened the door of the main office.

O.O.O.O.O.

She looked to be in her mid-fifties and had auburn hair. Her glasses rested at the tip of her nose – they were rectangular shaped and had thick black frames. She was typing rather quickly at the keyboard and as Sam and Dean leaned over the cherry wood desk, her small green eyes looked upward and she smiled at the two.

"Good afternoon, boys," she squeaked. "New students?"

"Actually, we're looking for a friend of ours. Professor Cromwell," Sam asked.

At this, the old woman typed something into her computer and motioned she was searching.

Dean raised a curious eyebrow and turned to Sam. "Professor Cromwell…that sounds familiar…"

Sam didn't answer but instead smiled. It was the kind of smile Dean would give. Still confused, Dean thought for a second and slowly his eyes turned into a questionable glance.

"Cromwell…as in-"

"Amy Cromwell…" Sam replied. "Professor of Art History."

"Amy Cromwell…" Dean repeated slowly. The name rolled off his tongue like a foreign word. It may have sounded weird to him, but Dean remembered perfectly who she was.

She had been his childhood friend. Dean had tortured her: pulled her hair, ripped the edges of her dress, and tried to convince her were monsters in the closest – of course, that had been before his mother's murder.

"My old partner in crime…" Dean muttered. "I haven't seen her since-"

"You skipped out after graduation," Sam finished. He shot Dean a somewhat hard glance.

Dean felt a pang of guilt. He had left immediately after high school to take care of the family business.

"I didn't know you kept in contact with her…" Dean said instead.

Sam sighed and stuck his hand into his back pocket. "She watched out for me after you left. She was like a big sister. Made sure I did my work in school and everything. Amy even became a tutor. I think I give her some credit for wanting to be a lawyer…she's been teaching here for about three years."

He nodded. Dean bit his lower lip and sighed. "Eight years…wow…doesn't feel that long…wow…Amy Cromwell…Amy…man…she and I set the world on fire-"

"Literally," Sam laughed.

Dean shot him a look and laughed as well. "Hey…we didn't know the Bunsen burner was that strong…besides, she saved Mr. Quentin from catching fire…"

The woman behind the desk was looking at them sharply when Dean and Sam turned to look at her. She smiled weakly and said, "She's giving a class right now. But it should be over with soon. I'll take you there…"

"Thank you," Sam said in an apologetic tone.

O.O.O.O.O.

"Professor Cromwell of Art History…" Dean murmured under his breath. He turned to Sam while they followed the old woman down the corridor. "Art history…how is she supposed to help? Art history…"

"Hey," Sam defended, "it's better to get information first from someone we know…she can help us in a better way than a stranger…also, Egyptian text is classified as art. If Amy knows something, she can help…"

"And if she doesn't?" Dean fought back. "I just don't want her to get involved…if she gets hurt…"

"We're not even sure what we're dealing with," Sam answered. "We're not even involved in anything. Yet. If she doesn't know anything, she may know someone who can help."

They stopped talking once the woman stopped in front of two sets of black doors.

"These doors are at the top of the auditorium. Class gets out in about fifteen minutes," she whispered. She left the two there, her brown heels stomping against the wood floors.

Dean and Sam peered into the two doors through the small rectangular windows.

The classroom was the size of a movie theatre. The tows extended upward and there was a large screen before them. The lights were dim and a powerpoint presentation was set up. Students were taking notes on their laptops and they busily typed facts and information.

They were able to make out the small figure standing in front of the class discussing the image on the screen. There was a large picture of a man and a woman. The one who was discussing the painting could not be seen.

"That's her," Sam whispered, "but I can't see her clearly."

"We can wait inside," Dean offered. Before Sam could protest, Dean opened the door slowly and stepped into the dark auditorium as Sam followed.

The professor had her back to them as they took several steps down and sat in two random seats off to the right. Dean and Sam remained quiet as they felt several pairs of eyes on them. They were relieved when the students focused back on the lesson.

"In Arnolfini Wedding, Jan van Eyck has used several depictions of symbolism…for instance…the pear…the dog…" the woman spoke into a small microphone at her podium. She was turned around, pointing at the images.

Dean almost held his breath when he saw her turn around.

In the light of the projector, he was able to clearly make out her features. Her short brown hair that he had remembered so well was now several inches below her shoulder. She had a warm smile but she was so intense on focusing on the artwork. She was tall. And slender. And slim. Dean's eyes traced over features and he smiled to himself. She still had the same beautiful face. Big eyes. Nice breasts. Small lips-

"It's also important to note why the bride is so illuminated in light," she explained. "Take note of that. In the background…by the mirror…you can see where van Eyck left his signature…"

"Man," Dean whispered to Sam, "she's gorgeous."

Sam smiled and nodded. He was actually paying attention to the lesson but he also kept his eyes on Amy.

She had a beautiful, calm voice as she spoke. Continuing to explain the painting, Dean didn't focus on her words but noticed the way her lips moved.

It had been so long…

"I can't believe you're actually thinking about doing this!" a young Amy Cromwell screamed.

Dean, wearing jeans and a black T-shirt, spun around at Amy in the middle of the hall. The school was almost deserted and pieces of paper and fliers rested on the cold tile floor.

He slammed his fist against one of the lockers and laughed. "Dammit, what the hell is wrong with what I want to do?"

"You're just going to leave?" Amy argued. Her hair spun at the side of her face. Her eyes were large and wide – not in that beautiful way, the angry way.

"Look, Amy, it's my life okay, I'm glad you're concerned-" Dean started.

"You have a fourteen-year-old brother!" Amy shrieked angrily. "He needs you in this point in his life. Especially with your dad always going away on those stupid trips-"

"Hey, leave my dad out of this…" Dean snapped.

Amy's face grew calm. She crossed her army across her yellow shirt. "I just don't understand why you just want to take off after graduation. What about college…?"

"College is your thing, not mine," Dean said slowly. There was a sad tone to his voice now. "Look, I'll see you later Amy."

He walked away, carrying nothing but a small frown. Amy watched him go and she sighed sadly…

He never spoke with her again after that commotion. He remembered seeing her at graduation but they had never talked.

Dean looked at the girl he knew for so long. She was a beautiful young woman now. A professor at an excellent university. She had done the college thing…and look where it got her.

The lights of the room suddenly turned on. Dean blinked several times, his eyes had adjusted to the darkness and now he fought back the watering that was starting to begin.

"So," she called from below, "I expect that paper next Friday. Please look through the text and have a fabulous weekend."

Some students cheered as they gathered their things and went up or down the steps.

Dean and Sam stood up and walked downward. They past several students and by the time they came down the last step the room was emptied of its students.

She sat at her desk, her back faced to them.

Dressed in a pink dress shirt and a black dress skirt, the young woman sat at her desk and typed something quickly. She crossed one leg over the other and Dean noted her long slender legs.

Sam gently tapped Dean across the back of the head to get him to focus.

The small noise – that had angered Dean – had been apparently heard.

Her back still faced to them, she said, "If you want help with the paper, please just give me a minute."

Sam smiled and said, "We're not interested in the paper."

Stopping shortly at her computer, Amy turned around in her desk chair and gazed at the two men before her. Her face, calm and subtle, peered at her visitors. There was a look of shock and surprise that grew upon her face. And then happiness.

Dean didn't realize she knew who they were until Amy jumped from her seat and ran into Sam's arms.

She hugged him for several moments as Dean just watched. It was almost unreal that she was there.

"Oh Sam!" Amy laughed happily. She pulled away, gripping his shoulders and staring at him up and down. "My my…look at you! You're taller than I am…you can't be the little kid I used to baby-sit…"

Sam laughed and his hands rested gently on her small waist. "Sorry I haven't called."

She embraced him again, burying her face into his shoulder. She pulled away once more, smiling happily.

Her eyes turned to the side and Amy looked at Dean and her eyes grew slightly large again.

"Dean Winchester…" she whispered gently. Her smile turned into a shy grin.

Dean wasn't sure what to say, but then suddenly he felt the small figure in his arms as well. His strong arms wrapped around her waist as Amy's were gently resting around his neck. Dean didn't realize that he picked her up two inches off the ground. He hugged her back and slowly put her back down on the floor.

"Sorry," Amy apologized weakly for the over-excited hug. "It's just…wow Dean…ten years?"

"Eight," Dean corrected. "But I'm just good at math."

Amy smiled. Her straight brown hair had streaks of red in it; rebel strands swayed by the sides of her face. She smiled once more and turned to look at the two.

"Sam," Amy asked, "I tried to get in touch with you about two weeks ago actually. I don't have your cell phone number…where have you been?"

Sam looked at Dean and then gazed back at Amy. "I'm not at my apartment anymore. Dean and I have been traveling a bit…"

"Wow," Amy noted, staring at the two brothers. "I really wasn't expecting you for a while…"

"Expecting us…" Dean asked. He looked at Sam strangely and then back at Amy. "We didn't even know we were seeing you until about yesterday…"

"Oh," Amy said oddly. "It's just…I tried to call you Sam because I wanted you to know about your dad-"

"Our dad?" Sam asked suddenly. He looked desperately at Amy and took a step forward. "What about him-have you been in contact with-"

"Did you hear from him-" Dean began.

Amy looked at them back and forth and she raised her hands in defense. "Hey…I thought you knew…"

"Knew what?" Sam asked softly.

She blinked several times, trying to understand. Amy bit her upper lip and slowly said, "Your dad was here about two weeks ago."

O.O.O.O.O.

A/N: Hopefully you're all enjoying this so far. There may be a few errors in this chapter…I wrote this one rather quickly. Reviews/feedback appreciated.