Dean is thrilled. First, Dad lets him and Sam do an actual hunt, just the two of them! Of course, Dean has gone on hunts just with Dad before, or with Bobby, or Caleb, or Pastor Jim. Even a few other hunters he has only met a few times. Walt, Roy, Tim, Reggie, guys like that. He has even gone on a few solo hunts. But he has not been trusted, until now, to take Sammy on a hunt, just the two of them. True, the hunt was only part of it. They were also supposed to set up the house John rented for them, and get Sammy enrolled in school, since the nerd loved it too much to drop out the way Dean had, and of course they were expected to continue their training. Or rather, Dean was expected to continue training Sam. But still. A hunt with just his brother? Dean getting to call all the shots, make the game plan? Boss Sammy around? Dean was definitely up for that. But then, to make things even better, he found a job with a mechanic who specializes in classic cars. While Nerd Boy gets his geek on all day at school, he gets to work on some of the sweetest cars he has ever seen. And to his delight, the customers that Rodney Blane, the mechanic who hired Dean, serves seem to appreciate the beauties as much as Dean does, so he is never short on people to talk to about any and everything classic car related. That is, at least until he gets home, where Sam has absolutely zero interest in such riveting topics. Oh, sure, Sammy loves the impala. But not the way Dean does. Which is fine, he has his books and his precious homework, where Dean actually has something cool to enjoy. All in all, things have been great since their dad had sent them this way. Sammy is settled into his school, and set to finish out the year with a perfect GPA. And they have a decent house for once. One bedroom, one bathroom, so on the smaller side, but it is in solid repair, the indoor plumbing is fully functional, they have heating and a/c, a full kitchen, and was fully furnished, so it is like a palace compared to some of the places they have stayed. As Dean pulls the impala up the short driveway towards the little bungalow, he can't help the grin that crosses his face. Because he honestly can't remember the last time he had has such a great time for so long. Sam happy and content, doing school work during the day, while he is at work. Working together in the evenings to try and research the haunting that drew them in in the first place. Even training with Sammy has gone smoothly. He hasn't complained, or argued once, the way he would be doing if Dad was here. In fact, he is working harder than ever, and can almost beat Dean in a spar now. Not that he would ever tell Sam that, he can't let his brother think he actually has a chance after all. Dean realizes he is just… happy. Indisputably happy. Everything has been perfect, with him and Sammy, hunting, living together, working as a seamless team. Even tonight, his surprise has gone off without a hitch. Sam had been working hard on studying for some big test tomorrow, and had skipped dinner for it, which, honestly Dean couldn't blame him for. Even he hadn't been thrilled by the canned soup that was the option, since Dean was planning on going shopping tomorrow. So instead, Dean had had the idea for a surprise midnight dinner at the charming little diner he had seen in town. Working a steady job has given him some decent money for a change, sixteen is a big year, and Sammy deserves to start off his birthday properly, so Dean had no problem swinging for it. Dean glances over at his brother, who is curled up in the passenger seat, smiling happily even with his eyes closed, and he smirks, knowing he hit it out of the park. Sam was lucky to have such a brilliant big brother. Although, the mystery does remain. Sam ate a massive amount of food, including some of Dean's, and he still look like a freaking skeleton, with a pinched, hungry look to his thin face that really became pronounced when Sammy turned thirteen and hasn't ever gone away since, no matter how much he eats. Where does all the food go exactly? Shaking his head, Dean feels sorry for his father. At least Dean has grown out, more or less, of his own constantly ravenous state of being. Dean was finding it hard enough to keep one growing kid fed well enough, he couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for their father to have two of them. And the kid was growing, like a freaking weed, even if Sam didn't think so. Dean has a nasty feeling that Sam is actually going to be taller than him very soon. He likes to ignore that feeling as much as he ignores that Sam's speed, instincts, and astounding intellect are fast making him one of the deadliest hunters he has ever seen, despite his age and current size. Because that thought, as much as it makes him proud, terrifies him just as much. So, choosing to ignore all of those thoughts, and what paths they are trying to pull his attention down, he focuses on just getting them home. Pulling to a stop in front of their house, Dean cuts Baby's engine, and gently shoves his brother.
"Wakey wakey, Sleeping Beauty." Dean teases.
"Not sleeping, Jerk." Sam whispers, opening his eyes and sitting up straighter.
"Could have fooled me bitch." Dean grins. Sam shoots a tired glare at him.
"What happened to being nice to me on my birthday?" He complains.
"What, you thought that was going to be an all day thing?" Dean laughs, opening his door. Sam grumbles, climbing out of the passenger seat, and together they close their doors, making their way up the front porch. "Talk to me in the morning, we can see if you deserve my niceness then." Dean continues, unlocking the front door for them.
"It is morning, remember?" Sam points out, following Dean inside, and kicking off his shoes. Dean follows suit, locking the door behind them.
"See, its attitude like that that makes me think you don't deserve my niceness." Dean mocks. Sam rolls his eyes, discarding his jacket and starting for the couch. They had been taking turns with the bedroom, and theoretically it was supposed to be Dean's turn. But contrary to Little Brother's belief, Dean wasn't actually that big of a jerk. "Uh uh, kiddo." Dean reaches out and takes Sammy's shoulders, directing him away from the couch and steering him towards a proper bed.
"But, it's your turn." Sam says, sounding tired and confused.
"Yeah well, your princess self needs it more." Dean teases gently. "That last thing I need is you bitching to Dad about me not letting you get proper sleep for your math test tomorrow."
"History." Sam mumbles.
"Same thing." Dean rolls his eyes.
"Is not." Sam argues.
"Is to." Dean grins. "Boring, useless, waste of time. Sounds the same to me."
"It's history, not cars." Sam snips. Dean laughs.
"You are lucky it's your birthday kiddo." Dean replies, steering his brother into the bedroom, before going to the dresser and grabbing his usual sleep clothes, tossing Sam's towards him. Despite the rapid arrival of exhaustion overtaking his brother, he catches them easily. "Or I would be kicking your ass for that comment."
"So that's why you are giving me the bed. Because its my birthday." Sam smirks. Dean shrugs.
"Enjoy it, you aren't getting any other gifts." Dean lies. In truth, he has a couple gifts for Sammy, hidden away in the back of Baby's trunk. Plus he hounded their friends for something for Sammy to. Bobby, Pastor Jim and Caleb all sent something along. Even their Dad remembered to get Sam an actual, physical gift for him to open. They all agreed with Dean, that sixteen was too important a birthday to just let slip by. And Dean wished he could give Sam what every other kid got- a big party, and a trip to the DMV to get his license. But Sam learned to drive when he was twelve, and has been carrying a fake license since he was fourteen. And they don't have the friends or family, at least anywhere close by, to have a party. A small pang of hurt for how much his baby brother has missed out on goes through Dean's chest, but he quickly smothers it. Because he is still going to do his best to make sure Sam has a great day. That doesn't mean he isn't still going to bug the living hell out of him. Being a big brother means certain responsibilities after all. Sam rolls his eyes at Dean's lie.
"Sure. You realize you are too soft to pull off not getting me anything right?" Sam jokes, his eyes lit up with excitement. Dean pretends to scowl.
"Oh, we'll see how soft I am the next time we spar." Dean promises. "Now get to bed tiger. I'm not waking you up if you miss your alarm for school." He walks past Sam, ruffling his hair as he passes his brother.
"Dean!" Sam complains, trying and failing to duck out of the way. Dean just laughs.
"Sleep well bitch." Dean calls, darting to claim the bathroom before Sam can get to it. He may be the Birthday Boy, but if being a big brother means having responsibilities, it also means having rights, including first dibs on the bathroom.
"Jerk!" He hears Sam call out from behind him, and he just laughs louder, and smiles wide when he hears Sam's answer laugh. Sam has been having a lot of issues since he entered his teenage years. His fascination with hunting had faded fast. Though Dean can tell he still enjoys the research, and the lore, and he has a natural talent for the field work, Dean can also see he is fast growing to resent it. Every hunt seems to add more weight to Sam's slim shoulders. His eyes lose a little more of his childlike curiosity, and optimism. He is becoming angrier, colder, and more resistant to everything. To hunting, training, anything at all that deals with their lifestyle. He and Dad have been fighting, more and more often, as Sam has started to question everything. Why this, and why that, why not this, why not that. He has started pushing back on the orders he used to accept with ease, and Dean can tell it is wearing both him and Dad down. They are more often than not tense around each other at the very least, if not openly hostile and fighting. Dean suspects that that may be part of the reason why Dad had finally agreed to let Dean take Sam for a hunt just the two of them. Not that Dean and Sam didn't have their own kinds of tension lately. For all his maturity, Sam is still a bullheaded teenage idiot after all. Arrogant, cocky and stubborn. Convinced he always knows best. And also convinced that just because Dean often agrees with their father that he can't understand or see Sam's point of view. But Dean also knows he is a lot more patient with Sam than their father is. He knows Sam isn't happy with hunting, and he knows why. Dean loves the hunt. He loves the thrill of fighting the monster, the feeling of saving a life, of avenging innocent people. Dean loves the fight. But Sammy isn't Dean, and sometimes Dean thinks maybe their father forgets that. Or even resents it. Sam doesn't enjoy the kill, he hates it. Every time they take down a monster, Dean sees the reluctance and resignation in his face. Even when he is scared, and Dean is under no illusion of how much hunting terrifies his brother, despite his very strong attempts at masking it for his brother and father's sake, Dean can see Sam hates being surrounded by so much violence, and death. But Dean also knows Sam, like him, like their Dad, doesn't have a choice. So Dean does what he can to compromise. He reassures Sam about his safety, he comforts him after his nightmares, he has Sam focus on the research while he, as often as he can, takes care of the rest of it. And he tries to steer the hunts that Sam is on away from anything involving a lot of violence. Werewolves, ghouls, shapeshifters, revenants, rugarus. Stuff like that. Instead, he points Sam towards ghosts, poltergeists, cursed objects. Hunts that are more on helping people, releasing their spirits, saving them without needing to gank some fang. And maybe because of that, Sam is less resistant to Dean, more willing to go along with his orders, and the hunt as a whole. And Dean knows their father is hoping that Sam will grow out of this rebellious phase, that once he finishes high school he will be as committed to the fight as Dean is, as he is. But Dean isn't so sure. Dean, unlike their father, doesn't have selective sight when it comes to Sammy, he notices everything. He notices the hesitation whenever Dad speaks about Sam's role after he's done school. The resentment. He notices the envious looks whenever they drive past a college campus. He notices the brochures he hides at the bottom of his bag. And he definitely noticed the research on scholarships that Sam had thought he hid so well. Dean's heart aches slightly, because he knows, deep, deep down, that Sam wants away from hunting. That his plans don't match Dad's, or Dean's. But Dean also doesn't know how to handle that, and besides, even if college is Sam's desired next steps, college is still at least two years away. So he shoves away the pain and anxiety of what Sam might be planning, and focuses on the here and now. Because here, in this house, Sam is happy. He is laughing, even, and they are both getting a break from his moody, angsty usual self. For a little bit, Dean is seeing his kid again. And that is worth anything, even if eventually he does have to face whatever dark, crappy shit comes their way, whatever heartbreak is waiting for them. Dean will gladly pay the price, if it means even just for a little bit, he has Sammy happy, and laughing, and with him, safe and sound. Taking a deep breath, and pushing away his thoughts before his brother can accuse him of being a girl for taking so long, Dean quickly changes his clothes, and brushes his teeth. Grabbing his dirty clothes, he tosses them into the hamper, before heading back to the living room, sighing as he sees the coffee table is still littered with Sam's notes and textbooks.
"For such an OCD freak, you can leave a big mess kiddo." Dean murmurs, starting to organize his mess, so Sam can cram in a little bit more studying in the morning. He frowns as he realizes that there are actually two piles of notes and as he bends down, he sees that while Sam was studying for his test, he had been reviewing everything they know about this ghost hunt so far. Overachieving nerd. Dean puts Sam's history notes aside, and gathers up the notes on the haunt, raising his eyebrow as he goes through what Sam had been going through. Although they had both been looking into the case, both on the drive here and since they arrived, most of their time had been taken up with finding a place, getting set up, Sammy in school, and Dean with a job, and getting settled to stay for the next couple of months, so that when Dad catches up, their base of operations will already be fully up and running. So seeing that, on top of everything, Sam had steadily been building a very well thought out case file for the haunting leaves Dean feeling a mountain of pride, especially as he finds the half-finished report that is no doubt meant for their father. Glancing towards the bedroom and listening for any signs that Sammy is still awake, Dean takes the file over to the table when he hears nothing, looking the papers over in more detail. The first couple newspaper clippings, and police reports he remembers from Dad outlining the case for them. "
Michael Manor, once the mayor's house of the fledgling town before it became Moses Lake." Dad had told them. "Built and owned by the first mayor of the town, Michael Adam."
"What kind of douchebag names a house after himself?" Dean had asked.
"Lots of old houses are named after people and families." Sam had pointed out, like the geek boy he is.
"Yeah, but usually they use family names." Dean retorted. "Last names. Like Wayne Manor."
"You would find a way to make this about Batman." Sam had rolled his eyes.
"Enough, boys." Dad had said, and although his tone wasn't impatient, or frustrated as usual, in fact it was actually mildly amused, both boys responded to what was clearly still an order, and shut up immediately. "Apparently everything was fine in the house until sixteen years ago. The family of four that owned the place was killed sometime in the beginning of May. According to police reports, it looks like the youngest son, Colton Davidson, took a knife and butchered his father, mother and brother, before turning the knife on himself. Supposedly, every year since, for the entire month of May, the house goes crazy. Full ghost mode, with flickering lights, rat noises, cold, spots, things flying around, doors opening and locking on their own…"
"Sounds more like a poltergeist than a regular spirit." Sam had said. Dad had nodded approvingly.
"I was thinking the same thing." Dad says. "Which is why I don't want to rely on just potentially faulty or exaggerated eyewitness accounts, and police reports. I want you both to go to Moses Lake. Learn what you can from the local history, and check out the house. If it is just an aggressive ghost, you boys figure out who, and take care of it. Hell, you might just want to burn all the bones, to cover all your bases. But if it is a poltergeist, you wait for me, understood?"
"Yes sir." Sam and Dean had replied together. Now, as Dean sits at the kitchen table, he glances over Sam's notes, on the margins of the papers his father had presented to them, frowning in surprise as Sam marks of certain areas with words like inconsistent, and not usual ghost activity. As he gets to the last page, he sees the words fake haunting complete with a question mark, scrawled near the bottom of a newspaper clipping highlighting the house and the upcoming possible hauntings. It wouldn't be the first time they had rolled into a town, only to find out that a case didn't exactly exist, or was greatly exaggerated. Maybe this was just a way to generate tourism? But usually, the towns that did that waited until October for that. Dean sighs, rubbing his eyes, suddenly as tired as Sam had looked. He would ask his brother about it later. Maybe tomorrow. He wasn't going to make Sam hunt or do research on his birthday after all. And they still had time. There was no evidence of any violence in the hauntings following the death of the family. Just a few scared teenagers every year, so they could afford to wait another day. Could afford longer, if Sam's theory on this not being a real case turns out to be true. Setting the notes aside, Dean yawns widely and stumbles over to the couch. Wide, and soft, it might as well be a second bed, and Dean collapses gratefully into it, using the couch cushions as his pillow, and pulling the quilt off the back of it to use as a blanket. And within minutes, Dean is fast asleep. That is, until only seconds later, his obnoxious little brother is prodding him awake.
"Dean. Dean! Come on." Dean groans loudly in protest to Sammy's attempt to rouse him. Why the hell is the kid still awake anyways. "Come on Dean, are you really going to make me walk to school on my birthday?" Walk? School? That catches Dean's attention and he reluctantly peels his eyes open, grimacing as he sees the living room is much, much lighter than it just was. He glances to the window, to see morning light pouring in over the small space. He looks back, to see a scrawny, anxiously fidgeting little brother, dressed in fresh clothes, with a backpack slung over his shoulders. Dean groans again, throwing an arm over his eyes.
"Are you going to pull the birthday card all day?" He demands. Sam laughs.
"It's the one day of the year I can, so yes." Sam replies.
"Birthday Brat." Dean grumbles, sitting up and faking a yawn to cover his small smile.
"You are calling me a birthday brat?" Sam demands indignantly. "Have you ever seen you on your birthdays?"
"Watch it tiger." Dean warns, stretching as he gets up. "Or I actually will make you walk."
"Fine." Sam mutters. "You are a joy to be around, all the time. Happy?"
"Very." Dean smirks.
"Fantastic. Can we go then? I want to try and get there early so I study a little bit more during my morning free period." Sam asks. Dean rolls his eyes but doesn't hide his smirk this time.
"Give me five minutes to get dressed." Dean says. "Did you get some breakfast?" Sam holds up their last granola bar and Dean nods. It isn't much, and Dean would love if he had something more for the kid, but until he goes shopping later today, it is the granola bar or the canned soup they had both rejected for dinner. Dean is glad Sam chose the bar, over nothing at all, so he doesn't say anything, just goes to grab his own clothes. Changing quickly, he brushes his teeth, and combs his hair, emerging exactly five minutes after he left his brother. Sammy is still where he left him, waiting by the door, tapping his fingers nervously against his jeans. "Ready to go kiddo?" Sam nods, his face set in the same determined frown he gets when he is neck deep in monster lore, and turns, leading the way outside. Grabbing the keys for Baby, Dean follows him, carefully locking up the house behind them. Dean smiles, seeing the clear blue sky above, the bright sunlight gleaming off of the grass, Baby's metal, the morning dew in the grass, and feeling the warm spring breeze blowing gently around them. It looks like it is going to be a beautiful day, like Spring itself is celebrating Sammy's birthday. Dean climbs into the car, Sammy taking shotgun as always. "You nervous?"
"Kind of." Sam admits. "Mr. Mikail said this test is worth forty percent of our final grade. The final exam is thirty, and then the rest is made up of our homework through the term." Dean gives a low whistle as he starts the car, and pulls out of their driveway, starting towards Sam's school.
"So, if you screw up, your grade is pretty much toast then." Dean surmises. Sam nods, tapping even harder against his legs. "Still, doesn't explain why you are nervous, Einstein. That freaky photographic memory of yours is going to get you a solid A triple plus, or whatever your usual grade is." Sam smiles slightly.
"It's high school, they use percentages, not A's." Sam says. "And the proper term is eidetic, not photographic."
"Proving my point for me." Dean says, grinning back at him. Sam sighs, and finally stops fidgeting, instead running his hand through his hair.
"It isn't the material." Sam admits after a moment. "It's Mr. Mikail. I kind of get the feeling sometimes that he doesn't like me." Dean frowns at the revelation. Sam is usually adored by his teachers. He has been going to his parent-teacher nights since he was fifteen, and he had never heard a bad word against Sammy. Unlike Dean, who had never made a secret of his distaste for school, and had much preferred the hookup culture and sports teams to anything involving a classroom, or at least, the assigned use of a classroom, Sammy was the model student. Quiet, attentive, studious. Homework always done on time, assigned readings completed early, first to class for test days. Usually he had the teachers eating out of the palm of his hand.
"What do you mean he doesn't like you?" Dean asks. Sam shrugs.
"I mean… I don't know." Sam says unhelpfully.
"Does he pick on you?" Dean demands. While Sam was the darling of teachers, when it came to students he had had more than his fair share of bullies. Being the smart, scrawny type easily made him a target, especially since he was almost always the new kid, and therefore fresh meat, and while he definitely knew how to defend himself he also had a strong moral compass and too much empathy and compassion for his own good. So much so he would rather take a beating most of the time than risk seriously injuring another kid, since most of his training involved how to kill, not exactly incapacitating. Of course he learned that to, at Dean and their father's insistence, although while for Dean it had been an attempt to help Sam feel more comfortable, knowing he had alternatives to taking the kill shot if he needed them, Dean had the nasty feeling that for John, it was the same reasoning he had used with Dean. Sometimes they needed to… talk, with creatures. Or beasts. Or, rarely, humans. And they needed that person or thing alive. Not that Dean let Sam anywhere near a hunt if he knew that was going to be a possibility. Sammy hates the idea of killing evil things, what would he possibly think of torturing them? Sam's answer to his question pulls him from his distracted thoughts.
"No. He isn't overtly mean or anything." Sam says slowly. "He just… looks at me funny sometimes."
"Funny how?" Dean growls, his mouth going dry as the worst possibilities come to mind instantly. Sam shakes his head quickly.
"Not funny like that." He says hurriedly. "Just… I don't know." Sam huffs in frustration. "Like he… is waiting for me to… I guess, snap, maybe? Like he thinks I am going to go evil or something. He's just… wary around me. And there is something in his eyes, that is just… dislike. I don't know how to describe it." Sam shrugs again, looking out the window. Dean frowns, confused and annoyed. It may be irrational, and he knows not everyone knows Sammy like he does, and not everyone has to like his brother, but he can tell this is bothering Sam more than he is admitting, maybe even to himself. Sam has always craved approval. From Dean, from their father, and most definitely from his teachers. He admires them, and respects them so much that he kills himself to prove he is a good student, that he is working hard in their classes. Dean can only imagine how much it must be hurting his baby brother to feel like a teacher doesn't like him, or sees him like that.
"Maybe it is just because you are new." Dean suggests. It isn't ideal, of course, but between their many, many school transfers, Dean has noticed that teachers and students both tend to be a little suspicious of new arrivals. Teachers are just generally better at hiding it, or their curiosity of the new kid is just stronger. Kids are a little meaner, harsher about it, but Sam and Dean had long ago stopped caring about what kids their age thought. They were too used to being the source of small town gossip for most rumors or even light bullying to even register at this point. Still, just because the usual suspects when it comes to this kind of thing, of alienating a kid, are other kids, doesn't mean it can never be a teacher. Maybe they just finally found one willing to show their hostility? Sam looks doubtful.
"Maybe… but I don't think so." Sam says hesitantly. "I don't know how to describe it Dean, it just feels… personal. I don't know. But my skin sort of crawls when he looks at me." Dean's frown deepens at the discomfort in his brother's voice.
"Want me to talk with him?" He asks seriously.
"No, Dean, it's fine." Sam says quickly. "He hasn't done anything, really. He takes my answers in class, and he's polite when we speak. For all I know it's just me reading too much into things. Promise me you won't go bugging Mr. Mikail."
"Sammy…" Dean says, but Sam turns to him, those damn puppy-dog eyes of his on full blast. Wide, and innocent, and pleading.
"Please Dean." Sam begs. "Don't start something. If he does anything, I will let you know, but honestly I think it is just me. I've been tired and stressed and I am probably just overthinking things. Once the test is done, and we get the hunt over with, I am sure things will be normal, so don't… do anything, okay? Not yet." Dean sighs heavily as he pulls into the student parking lot at the school. A tiny, but well-funded quasi-private school, the building is only one story, with an entire student body of about five hundred. But given the fact the town they are in's median income is about triple the rest of the nation's, the grounds are exquisitely kept, the building is pristine, and the parking lot, even for the kids, is full of higher end models. Even a few sports cars stand out among them. Dean parks Baby near the entrance, watching the kids, in designer, well-kept clothes with fancy hair-dos and expensive bags, stream towards the building. For half a second, Dean wonders if that is what this Mr. Mikail has against Sam. With his nearly worn out, over-used second-hand clothes that had once been Dean's, and have been through more than a couple rough hunts and camping trips, ancient looking backpack, and heavily stained sneakers, it isn't hard to tell that he isn't exactly rolling in wealth. Combined with his overly long hair, and he could easily pass as a delinquent. Well, from Disney Channel maybe. Sam's youthful face, kind, innocent eyes and endless patience sort of ruin the effect. Still, maybe this Mr. Mikail has a class issue, and doesn't want to deal with a kid from a lower social bracket. "Dean." Dean focuses back on Sam, who is still looking at him pleadingly. Dean sighs heavily.
"Fine." He relents. "But Sammy, if things change… if you get even the faintest feeling that he is off, or might do something, I don't care how stupid you might think it is, you tell me. Promise me."
"I promise." Sam says quickly. Dean nods, frowning.
"Okay then… go on. And good luck with that test, nerd." Dean teases. Sam smiles, and climbs out of the car. Dean watches him go, frowning as Sam disappears into the crowd of kids. He knows he has things to do. Sam's presents to wrap, groceries to buy, but still… Sam, young as he is, still doesn't fully trust his instincts, even though Dean and Dad have both assured him that he has some of the best they have ever seen. They still need to be honed a bit more, of course, but Dean has been trusting his brother's gut instincts without a shadow of doubt since he was about thirteen, and started seriously hunting with them. Making his decision, Dean turns Baby off and climbs out of the car, setting off towards the school. One of the great benefits of having turned eighteen was he could start being listed as a guardian on Sammy's emergency contact information, given him access to his teachers and any information from the school regarding his brother. As he approaches the school, the bell rings and any lingering students hurry towards the building. But just as he is reaching the front doors, a grown man, a member of staff if Dean had to guess, steps outside, evidently having seen Dean approaching while holding the door for the students.
"Excuse me, Sir, can I help you?" He asks cheerfully, but carefully. Dean can't help but feel both slightly annoyed at the delay, but respectful of the clear caution the school seems to have for non-students. Given Sam's knack for horrible luck, it makes Dean feel just a little bit better about Sam's safety, if this is how the school acts to strangers.
"Hi, yes." Dean answers, putting on his most charming smile, completely aware that, in his jeans, grey t-shirt, blue flannel and leather jacket, he fits in about as well as Sam does. He looks especially shabby next to the crisp, clean suit of the gentlemen in front of him. "I am looking to have a conversation about my brother with one of his teachers, a Mr. Mikail."
"Oh, well you are in luck." The man smiles, extending a hand. "I am Baron Mikail." Dean takes his hand, shaking it.
"Dean, Dean Winchester." Dean replies. The caution leaves the man's eyes, and his smile warms considerably.
"Ah. Mr. Sam Winchester's brother." Mr. Mikail says. "I have been hoping to have a conversation with you as well."
"You have been?" Dean asks, frowning in confusion.
"Yes. You have an incredibly bright brother, Mr. Winchester. Very gifted, and incredibly polite. You and your father must be very proud." Mr. Mikail says pleasantly. Dean blinks, surprised at the way the conversation has turned.
"Er… thanks. Yeah, we are… proud of him, I mean." Dean says quickly. "Listen, uh… has he been… okay, in class? I know you have a big test today…"
"Well, that is what I was hoping to discuss with you. I don't have a class right now, so I have a few minutes if you would like to discuss Sam." Mr. Mikail offers. Dean studies him, keeping as casual a pose as he can, smiling easily.
"That would be great," Dean says gratefully, and the man smiles, turning and leading the way into the school. The smile falls from Dean's face as he starts to follow him. Now he understands what Sam meant. Pleasant, and polite as the teacher may be, Dean can tell there is also something… off about him. It's in the eyes. Something calculating, but where Sam said he had felt dislike, Dean saw something more like… delight. Excitement. But the delight, or excitement or whatever seems to be not quite… healthy. There is an edge to the man that has Dean's hackles rising, and every hunter instinct ringing alarm bells. For a well-dressed high-school teacher, Dean can't help but think that the man in front of him is actually incredibly dangerous.