Author's note: Woohoo! It's only been half of forever since I've updated, so I'm getting better ;). I'm sure you're all tired of my incessant apologizing, so just remember I'm always sorry about my updating skills. Reviews appreciated and treasured as always
Noel Hamilton yawned loudly, and glanced accusingly at her innocent digital clock. She still had three hours left on her shift, and cursed Thursdays to the deepest pit of hell. They were the only day of the week that she was required to work a full 8 hours, and there weren't enough troubled students in the world to keep her occupied that long. After colour coding her pens, stacking and re-stacking her files, and getting an early start on her tax returns, she decided to wander over to the cafeteria to see if the lunch ladies were still there to serve her something to eat, and possibly distract her from the slow death of all her creative brain cells.
As she meandered slowly towards the cafeteria, she hummed quietly to herself. Pulp's insipid chart topper Common People had been stuck in her head for over a week now, and the repetition of its chorus in her mind only served to aggravate her further.
Reaching the cafeteria doors, Noel paused for just a second to shake her head back and forth ferociously, trying unsuccessfully to rid herself of the repetitive tune. Frustrated with the song, and her day in general, she pushed angrily though the swinging doors, and into the cafeteria.
Noel traipsed between messy tables across the deserted cafeteria, in the direction of the yellow door that lead into the staff lunch room. In her peripheral vision, her eye slighted upon something flashy, and she turned to get a better look.
Lying conspicuously in the middle of the floor was one bright red platform sneaker. Noel sighed at how ridiculously scatterbrained some of the students here were, that they managed to leave one shoe behind. She bent down to pick it up, planning to return it to the lost and found box on her way back to her office. In the process of moving her eyes cast upon another source of the colour red that seemed to cover a great deal of this section of the floor. In fact Noel was surprised she had not noticed it before, but the ground seemed to be dotted with a red liquid, that looked suspiciously like blood.
Noel dabbed one hesitant index finger to the substance, and glanced around frantically for a victim or perpetrator. Taking a deep breath in a desperate attempt to steady her pounding heart, she stood up slowly. "Come on Noel, it's probably just a kid with a nosebleed or something" She reasoned with herself forcefully. Convinced she was feeling decidedly calmer, Noel followed the blood droplets such as Hansel and Gretel would have followed the crumbs.
They lead her out the double doors, and onto the narrow path outside. She felt like some old fashioned fictitious detective, following blood trails, and the romantic in her wished she had a trench coat, a pipe and a magnifying glass. But the practical responsible adult in her was adrenalized and on the lookout for some poor child with a bloody nose, or a scraped up elbow.
What she found was neither of those things. Michael Baker and his foolish friends were slumped over in the deserted corner of the scrub lot, beside the staff parking lot. Students were not supposed to be there strictly speaking, especially if they were known to get into trouble. Noel had just caught this particular group here last month, vandalising the vice principal's car, and that had caused a huge scandal. Michael, Justin and David had spent the last month in detention, and David had needed to pick up two extra shifts at his father's garage to essentially pay to fix up the vice-principal's car, as they're garage was the only one in town. "Ah well, karma's a bitch" Noel had thought at the time.
But now, she was looking over at three quite obviously hurt teenagers, and beginning to regret her nonchalance towards them. She had given up on these particular students quite some time ago, and fervently wished she hadn't. Rushing over in a panic, Noel was relieved to find them all breathing, and clearly not too badly injured. Justin was just stirring awake now, and he gazed around blearily and confused from under droopy eyelids. David was groaning loudly and rubbing a red welt on his bloated stomach, and Michael still seemed out for the count.
She questioned them frantically on what happened, but they all seemed unable, or perhaps unwilling to give her a straight answer. Frustrated and worried, she pulled out her cell, and dialed Nicole the school nurse, for the second time that month. As she mulled over what had happened, she flashed back to a very similar occasion with these same boys that had transpired so recently, and with a sinking heart she realized that the culprit could only be one Dean Winchester.
By the time Noel and Nicole had helped all three of the wounded boys inside, the lunch bell had sounded and students from everywhere in the grounds had begun milling their way inside. At the ring of the bell every student's face bore the universal expression of doom, such as a soldier might wear as he dutifully walks into battle. Despite the excitement of the situation, Noel couldn't help feeling slightly miffed that she'd missed out on lunch. Now she would have to wait until four thirty when she got home to eat. The irrational part of her brain blamed the group of injured teens that sat grumbling before her, and she found herself being quite abrasive with the bandages she was wrapping around Justin's bleeding knuckles. At twelve thirty she left Nicole to finish up, and to call the boys' parents. Noel had to inform principal Jake Harvey, and vice principal Alan Marshall about today's turn of events. Alan Marshall didn't seem quite as upset or perturbed as he could have, and quite nearly beamed as he ushered her out of his office later.
When Noel had finally made her way back to her office and got herself settled, they were well into the second period after lunch. Sighing to herself about the conversation she would have to have in a few moments, she summoned her courage, and spoke through the intercom system.
Dean Winchester was sitting in the back of his Spanish classroom doing his best to tune out the teacher's rambling, and doodling absent-mindedly on his desk when his ears pricked up at the use of his name over the PA.
"Good Afternoon and sorry for the interruption but would Dean Winchester, of advisory 16 please report to the principal's office immediately? Thank you."
Dean felt all eyes turn to him and he sighed loudly and nonchalantly. But his only thoughts were, "Oh shit, this can't be good."