Chapter Two

Dean was a sensible, responsible man. He thought that if he worked hard enough, things in this small town would be spic and span, nothing too important to worry about. That's why he had decided to work as a police man when his family had come here three years ago, he thought he could make a difference.

But his brother seemed determined that everything in their small town be complicated and unpredictable. Case in point: the papers on his desk, reports from two towns over and some similar from Seattle, unsolved homicides and missing persons in concentrated areas. If he had to hazard a guess, based on the people who wouldn't be reported missing, he would say that there were close to a hundred plus candidates to the true investigation. He knew in his gut it was most likely vampire related, given that it was so close to their home.

It really, truly wouldn't have been such a problem had Edward bitten Bella already. Then, she could defend herself and the rest of their family. She had made the decision to be apart of them a long time ago, would do anything for them and their family had accepted her, for the most part. He didn't see why his brother had to become this teen-angst monster over the situation.

Even thinking about it made him roll his eyes. But when he shifted another paper over, he felt someone looking at him. Dean glanced up.

Across the room, in well worn jeans and a long sleeved gray T-shirt, stood a six foot something man with shaggy brown hair. He was staring right at Dean with green, gold, and blue eyes, in a fascinated manner that Dean had never seen before. He waved tentatively at Dean, smiling lightly.

That was when the scent hit him. Like warm caramel and chamomile and hot chocolate all mixed together in front of a wood fire in the middle of the coldest winter. He had to catch himself from inhaling a third time out of self preservation – whoever this stranger was, he smelt divine.

Dean tore his gaze away for what felt like only a second, but then when he looked back, the gorgeous man had disappeared.

I hope he's the new one that I've been hearing about, Dean thought, but then almost groaned aloud at the stray wish. He was in Charlie's office before he knew it, a handful of questions on his tongue.

By the time he went home for the night, he had a name: Sam Winchester.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He drove up to the house in his Impala and heard the tense voices from inside. Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes. What was wrong this time?

He quickly made his way to the others in the living room, and all quieted for a moment.

One look around and at the expressions on everyone's faces and he said, "Who died?"

"Hello Dean," Esme said, and indicated a spot on the couch for him to sit. "We were just talking about their new teacher at the school,"

"Is he that new man in town? Sam?" Dean asked.

"Yes, have you met him?" Alice asked, with a strange smile on her face.

"No, he was in the office today, though," Dean frowned slightly. "Why?"

Carlisle answered this time. "He knows about us."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "And you know this… how?"

"He talked to Bella about it today after class," Edward said, looking shaken and a little out of his element.

"Weren't you able to tell from his thoughts the first day you met him?" Dean wondered, and then his eyes widened when Edward shook his head. "You can't read his mind?"

"No,"

"Huh." Dean took a moment to process that. "What did he say to her?"

"Apparently… that he was available to talk any time she needed to. About anything. She said that he seemed genuinely worried for her," Alice said.

"I've never sensed that he was a bad person," Jasper added.

"Yeah, and he actually enjoys teaching. I don't think I've ever been interested in English before," Emmet's brow furrowed. "Maybe that's his evil psychic plot, to get teenagers to actually be happy to learn." He joked. Rosalie rolled her eyes and smacked his arm.

"Wait, wait, wait, he's psychic?" Dean repeated, incredulous. "And he just told Bella all of this." Dean blew a large breath out, shaking his head.

"What should we do?" Carlisle looked to Alice, who shook her head as well.

"His future is very foggy. I can't see anything clearly."

Dean sighed. "Are we going to have this much trouble every time someone new comes to town?"

No one really had an answer to that one.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam was having a horrible, no good, very bad day. He vaguely remembers the reference to the story he had read as a child, but doesn't think about it for long. He knew he should have taken the day off, but he had already gotten dressed and ready for work before he had a chance to look at the calendar on his kitchen wall. September 21st.

The day of the fire.

He barely managed to get through his classes, assigning the very rare task of silent reading and group discussion for the duration of their hour together. Even his students seemed to recognize his bad mood, and it took him a while to realize that he was projecting his emotions slightly. Damn.

Sam drew up his proverbial walls higher than they had ever been before and tried to breathe steadily. After the final bell, he was almost the first person out of the building and hopped on the back of his bike, not even bothering to snap on the straps on his helmet before thundering off on the powerful machine.

The trees and road stretched and twisted in his vision, he couldn't have told anyone how long it had taken for him to get to the cemetery. He leaned his bike up against a tree and walked down a path to the grave sites.

Sam found Mary's grave and sat in front of it without ceremony. For a while, he could not say nor do anything but stare at the engravings on her headstone, watching the play of tree leave shadows over the words.

"Hey, Mom," Sam began, resting his arms over the helmet in his lap, his chin atop that. "I know it's been a few years, but I couldn't get away and look after dad at the same time. You know how he gets on this day." Sam thought briefly about calling his father, but the sentiment would have fallen flat on John's most likely tipsy-drunk ears.

"I just wanted to say that I love you, and that I still remember you. I would wish that things could have been different, but I know that isn't what you taught me. You have to make due with what you have, and I'm trying my hand at something new. It's been great, so far. I didn't think that it would be this easy, even with all the memories I have of you, and that night…" Sam sighed. "But, I'm alright. I'm sure they'll pass with time."

He took a while longer, sitting there and talking with her, but he stood to leave soon after. A weight that had been pressing down on the back of his mind and heart lifted slightly, and he knew that he could check another thing off that list of his, the one that keeps growing in his head.

He was on his way home on windy road when he felt it: the tingling on his skin that meant he was being watched. He had noticed it over the past week, just like the stares he was getting from the Cullen kids in his class. Sam wasn't surprised, but about half-way to his house, he pulled over to the side of the road. Taking off his helmet, he looked around for a bit before he called out:

"Hey! I know you've been watching me." No response. Not even a rustle in the leaves. "If you wanted to know something about me, all you have to do is ask!" Again, silence.

This time he smiled. "Fine. Just come in my house when you decide to man up. I'll leave the front door unlocked," Sam got back on his bike as he felt the ripple of indignant emotion well up somewhere off to his right, and he laughed full on when he speed off. At least he had their attention now.

XXXXXXXXXXX

When he got home, Officer Dean was already sitting on his couch. Sam wasn't surprised; it was a scare tactic that he had used more than once in his life, but it certainly wouldn't work on him.

"Glad to see you took my advice. Tell me, did you crawl through window or just abuse your police powers and pick the lock?" Sam asked, throwing his keys on the coffee table. He sat across from Dean on the easy chair.

"The window was open," Dean said coolly. "And to what do I owe this invitation?"

"Look, you've been following me for days, and I knew that would happen from the moment I said something to Bella. But I hate you attempting to be discreet when all you had to do was knock on my door and ask anything you wanted to know." Sam smiled fully; liking that Dean's attitude dropped a notch when he mentioned knowing about the stalker gig.

"Alright then, how did you know about us?" Dean asked straight out.

"Well, for one, I'm psychic. Two, the eyes and the skin and the overall perfect grades were another red flag," Sam said.

"Perfect grades are an indicator?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"When something supernatural wants to be seen as normal, they try too hard most of the time." Sam rolled his eyes, "And everyone around will ignore the other weird traits about them, like the no coming in on sunny days or the stand-offish attitudes." Sam huffed a laugh. "You guys are doing pretty well for the most part, but I just know what signs to look for,"

Dean nodded, "But why would you tell Bella about you?"

Sam sighed, "I could tell that she was agitated, conflicted, and, to put it bluntly, depressed. I wouldn't have said anything, but I know what it feels like to have no one to talk to." Sam looked off in the distance, remembering the time in his past as a teenager in high school, "And I know that Bella loves Edward, but sometimes it's the ones you love that are the hardest to talk to, especially when its about your fears and doubts."

Dean's eyes widened, "She's having doubts? About their relationship?"

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Look, just because I can read people's minds, doesn't mean I do. And even if I did know something about what she's feeling, I wouldn't tell you, it's her private business."

Dean backed off immediately, "I'm sorry if I offended you, but you have no idea what a big mess this could be if something went wrong and we weren't prepared for it. Life's been real crazy for us since Bella came into town," Dean smiled affectionately. Despite his role as the big bad brother, he really did have a soft spot for that girl. He shook his head, though, when he realized what he had revealed to a virtual stranger. What was going on?

"I can only imagine. A human hanging out with vampires on a regular basis must be tough for everyone." Sam smiled indulgently, trying to smooth his over-reaction out of the way.

"It's been… interesting to say the least," Dean chuckled. He had no idea why he suddenly felt so at ease with Sam, but the man really didn't seem like he was a threat to anyone.

"Any more questions for me, Officer?"Sam joked, only partially.

"Why Forks?" Dean asked after a second of deliberation.

Sam's eyes and mood dropped. Right to the difficult questions, huh? He thought before answering.

"I was born here," Sam said flatly, "And I lived here until I was six,"

"What happened?" Dean asked, he could tell that it was something bad, if not from Sam's tone, then from the way he had unconsciously curled in on himself.

"See for yourself," Sam said, picking up the file from off the coffee table where he had left it and handing it to Dean.

Dean took only moments to flip through it before he paused, re-reading the last line of the report a few times. Causalities: Mary Winchester, son Samuel Winchester in ICU for treatment.

"I… I'm sorry, Sam," Dean looked up and saw the blank expression that the brunette had adopted.

"It's alright; it was a long time ago," He said, "I just needed to face it again, my father took me and left as soon as I was well enough to."

"Couldn't handle the memories?" Dean guessed, and Sam nodded. Then Dean blinked and looked down at the file again.

"Today's the anniversary?" Dean asked, and Sam nodded again. "Do… do you want me to come back some other time?"

That got Sam to laugh and smile again, "Thanks for the consideration, but I invited you, remember?" Dean nodded and smiled tentatively.

"Uh, where did you and your dad go afterward?" Dean tried to steer the conversation to a better route.

"Everywhere," Sam said, waving a hand in a grand gesture.

"Pardon?" Dean cocked his head to the side.

"We didn't really settle down after that, not with all the hunts that were all over the country," Sam explained.

"Your dad one of those naturalists I've heard of on TV or something?" Dean asked, still confused.

Sam let out a bitter sounding laugh at that question. "No, Dean, my Dad and I aren't that kind of hunter,"

Dean motioned for him to continue, not really sure where Sam was going with this.

"I am… was, a hunter of the supernatural," Sam said, watching Dean avidly. Dean's eyes widened, and if it could of, he's sure his face would have paled.

"What?"