Chapter 2

Flashback 1996

The shrill bell resounded loudly through the bare halls signaling the end of yet another school day. The students crammed their books and papers hastily into their bags and made a mad dash for the door--all the students except Dean Winchester, who instead of heading for the exit, as he would've liked, was instead pushing his way toward the teacher's desk.

"Something I can do for you, Mr. Winchester?" the deep gravelly voice asked, reaching him midway.

"Uh…yeah." Dean answered quickly, continuing to approach the desk.

"So?" The balding man questioned, prompting his student to continue, as he made his way over to the front of the desk and leaned against it crossing his arms over his chest.

"Um…well, I was going to ask you for an extension on that assignment you gave us. You know, the obit one." Dean began, making sure to lock eyes with the man before him.

"I gave you that assignment two weeks ago, Dean." His teacher replied flatly.

"I know." Dean stated sullenly. "But I really need this extension"

"Why?" the teacher inquired sharply, "And keep in mind, I have heard almost every excuse there is. So this better be good."

"Oh, it is. Ya see, my dad—he—he needs me to help him on a job. We leave tonight and won't get back for at least a couple of days. My dad said that we aren't gonna have any down time on this one, and since this thing is gonna be due the day after I come back, I'm not gonna have time to finish." Dean rambled hastily, but carefully, remembering to leave out the details. His desperation was more than evident as he raked his fingers through his short hair. Please, God, if you exist—help me!

"Not good enough." The teacher retorted disdainfully, uncrossing his arms and turning back to erase the day's notes from the blackboard.

"What do you mean? Not good enough?" Dean voiced loudly, his tone almost that of a scream.

"Exactly what I said, Mr. Winchester—not good enough. As in unacceptable." The teacher shot back authority in his voice, as he whipped back around harshly, locking eyes with his student once again.

"But, you said that this is worth fifty percent of our grade. Please, you have to give me this extension." Dean was clearly begging now and was seriously considering getting on his hands and knees if that's what it took for his teacher to grant him his request.

"Everyone else is bound to the same deadline as you, Dean. And everyone else is required to meet it. So what makes you the exception?"

Dean's mind drew a blank, the man's question ringing in his ears. He had no clue what made him any different. What he did know, however, was that his dad had told him that he didn't have time to put up with any possibility of Dean flunking a class and not graduating, and if it so much became an issue—Dean would be without a car--for a long, long time. There were many things in the world Dean would risk, but there was no way in hell he was ever gonna risk losing his precious Impala over some idiot teacher's dumb assignment. So, he tried a new approach--an honest approach.

"I just don't know what to write." Dean mumbled, his eyes studying the waxy patterns on the tile floor.

"Yeah. A lot of my past students have had problems beginning this, but once you get started, things will come to you." The teacher stated matter-of-factly. "Trust me."

"But I have started and nothing's come." Dean protested futilely. He knew when he was beat.

"Have you tried asking a family member for help?" The reply echoing exasperation.

"Yeah, right." Dean scoffed as he shouldered his pack and headed towards the door resigning to defeat.

"You may want to try. You only have 5 days left before the due date." The statement almost completely drowned out by the shuffling of papers.

Dean threw one final look over to his teacher before slamming the door behind him and storming down the empty hallway. This is stupid. This whole thing is stupid. What's it matter anyway? No one's gonna care. Hell, I bet no one even finds me 'til days after I'm gone.

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Present Day 2006

The Impala had fallen eerily silent save from the continuous clicking of computer keys, a sound that was steadily grating on Dean's nerves by the second. He wanted nothing more than to blast Metallica from the '67's speakers but Sam had claimed to have a headache halfway through AC/DC's "Evil Walks", forcing Dean to comply to his request of temporary silence. He could just take some freakin' Tylenol.

Sam stole another glance at his brother who hadn't as much offered to start a conversation after he'd revealed the name of the supposed malevolent spirit of the teacher. He couldn't help wondering if Dean knew something about this whole thing that he wasn't sharing. Dean's words from the restaurant replayed themselves over and over in his mind. Didn't we live there for a while? Sam honestly couldn't remember. He'd lived in over 20 different cities by the time he was 16 and it was all a blur. I'd bet anything Dean remembers though and he's gonna tell me whether he wants to or not.

"Okay, so this teacher—Kingston. Was he there when we lived in Clearwater?" Sam asked, figuring if he was going to get answers, bluntness was his best shot.

"What? How the hell should I know?" Dean questioned abruptly.

"Well, you asked if we lived there once and then you got all quiet when I mentioned the teachers name." Sam replied defending his line of questioning, it was completely valid in his mind.

"Yeah, brainiac. I asked if we lived there. I didn't say we did." Dean spoke with a laugh in his voice. "Damn, college boy, you are so dense sometimes."

"Whatever" Sam murmured as he turned his attention back to the computer screen.

"That's right, four eyes. Back to work, I can't do everything around here." Dean joked, catching sight of Sam's tense face as he delved back into research mode.

"Hey, some girls think glasses are attractive on a guy. Makes us appear intelligent. Ha, maybe you should get a pair." Sam shot back smugly.

"Who told you that? The guys in the A-V club?" Dean taunted, a smirk firmly planted on his face.

"You're a jerk. You know that right?" Sam bit his bottom lip to smother the smile threatening to escape.

"Yep. Never gonna change. So deal with it." Dean stated firmly as if the words were a serious command and Sam couldn't help but laugh.

The light mood that accompanied them for most of the drive came to an end as they passed Clearwater's Welcoming Sign. And just like that, it was back to business as they set about looking for a decent motel.

"So, the last death was a couple of days ago, right?" Sam hurried to relocate the newspaper article his brother was referring to.

"Yeah. April 4th. So two days ago." Sam offered, and went back to gazing out the window at the quaint store fronts and old houses that flew by. Seems nice

"Okay, and before that?" Dean pushed.

"Uh…" Sam forced himself to bring his focus back on the task at hand reopening his internet search results "March 17th. And before that—January 6th."

"Damn." Dean muttered, as he maneuvered the Impala into the Clearwater Motel parking lot and killed the engine. "So how'd he die anyway?"

"Kingston? Oh, uh, it says here that he was diagnosed with cancer, but he died at his own hand. Huh…that's weird. I mean, suicide victims can be malevolent spirits, right? But how does this affect the victims?" Sam rubbed his temples in contemplation. This doesn't make any sense.

"Well, there's probably a lot more that we don't know just yet. Now, just hang on for a sec while Jim Baker goes get a room."

Within the hour, the boys had unloaded their stuff and had settled down for quick and much needed nap completely oblivious to the distant wailing coming from across the town. The sirens responding to the call of a distraught wife whose husband lay unmoving in his former study. An old yellowed piece of paper clenched in his pale hand.

Thomas J. Morgan

November 23rd, 1966—April 6th, 2006

Passed away at his home from heart failure. Born in Clearwater, WI. Son of John and Sandra Morgan. Brother to Michael Morgan. Graduated from the University of Wisconsin with a degree in Chemical Engineering and worked at Cargill until his death. Active in his local church activities and a pillar of the community. He is survived by his wife and two children.

Service will be held at Clearwater Funeral Home on April 8th, 2006. With a visitation from 6-7:30 prior to service. All memorials and flowers may be sent to the funeral home at this time.

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Okay if you'd let me know what you think...not the most action filled chapter, i know, but stick with me here...i think i'm gonna go rewatch shadow again now. Yep...that's what i'm gonna do. Oh and thanx to all of you who reviewed last time--it's greatly appreciated.