Paraskavedekatriaphobia: extended scene
October 1989
Just over a month ago, Sammy would have said that seven was the bestest age to be. Ever since Dean had started school, Sammy wanted to go too - not just to school, but to his big brother's class. He hated to be stuck with a babysitter. Especially the babysitters that Daddy was able to afford because they were never any fun. He would practically run from the sitter's house into Dean's arms (since Dean was always the one to come and get him) and drag his big brother down the sidewalk just to get away.
When Dean began bringing some of his workbooks home with him (having to explain the concept of homework to his baby brother), Sammy asked to have some 'signments as well. Dean had already taught Sammy to read and getting a spare copy of his worksheets was never a problem (in fact, Dean's teacher thought it was cute and offered to 'grade' some of the papers for Sam, each complete with stickers and stamps proclaiming a job well done).
There were many afternoons that John would come home and find his boys, not watching cartoons like normal children their ages, but both doing homework at the table. Truth be told, Sammy usually did pretty well with the assignments - work meant for a kid four years ahead of him. They were all happy: Sammy was happy to spend the time with his big brother, Dean was happy because it made watching after his little brother easier, John was happy because it kept the boys occupied and out of trouble.
Then, they moved (again). The last hunt was complete and a new hunt was awaiting John in a new town several states away. Luckily for Dean, they had stayed long enough for him to finish out the school year. Sammy had turned seven not long before that and knew, from the moment he blew out his candles (all in one breath!), that next school year would be fantastic.
Now, however, he was having his doubts. He had been so excited to finally start school (as pre-school and kindergarten were not part of the Winchester curriculum) but now he was feeling differently. Dean had tried to warn him that school was not all fun and games, but as Sammy enjoyed the work part, he thought that everything would be fine. He couldn't have been more mistaken.
Everything he said and everything he did was apparently wrong. Sure, Miss Carol (his teacher) seemed to like him well enough, though she was nothing like Dean's last teacher had been. He had met Mrs. Baker on Dean's last day and she was young and beautiful and had the warmest smile Sammy had ever seen. Miss Carol had grey hair, wore purple every day, and had a hairy mole on her chin.
But, his teacher wasn't the problem. The kids in Sammy's class were cruel. They all knew each other from kindergarten and many lived on the same block, and no one wanted to be friends with the new kid. Sammy felt more miserably alone than when old Mrs. Logan was his babysitter and he had to sit on a plastic and doily covered chair in the corner while she watched her stories on television.
The absolute worst part, however, was that Dean's classroom was on one end of the second floor while Sammy's was on the opposite end of the first, ensuring that they would never accidentally run into one another in the halls. After a month of this torture, Sammy was sure that he couldn't possibly be more miserable than he already was.
One cool October morning, Miss Carol told the class that there would be a fire drill at the end of the day. She went over the rules of the drill: there was to be no talking, everyone would stand and line up at the front of the room calmly, and then walk (never run!) to their designated area in the parking lot. She also pulled down the laminated school map from the wall and pointed out their path, though it was already marked out with heavy red arrows from the 'you are here' box to the front entrance of the school.
The rest of the school day went on as usual - English, math, science, all the classes were the same. Really, the only difference was the steadily increasing buzz of energy Sammy felt coming from his classmates. They seemed to think that fire drill was code for extra recess from what he could interpret from their whisperings.
However, as his classmates grew more restless with excitement, Sammy was becoming more and more anxious. Drill or not, the idea of a fire burning so close to him was enough to make breathing difficult, as if the smoke was already in the air. Fire was not something the Winchesters took lightly. In fact, truth be told, Sammy had a slight case of pyrophobia.
One of his earliest memories, one of the earliest stories he could remember, was the one about his mother. Sammy was only six months old when Mary Winchester was taken (taken, Dean told him, we don't say died or killed about Mom - especially in front of Dad) so, of course, he didn't actually remember her as a real, living person. To Sam, Mary was a fairy tale, almost mythical. He knew the story by heart, the reason Daddy had to hunt, and he knew that she died (while protecting her baby) and was consumed by an unearthly fire.
So, as his classmates fidgeted and the seconds ticked by on the ever-loudening clock at the front of the classroom, Sammy felt more and more panicked, frightened, terrified. He was nearly to the point of hyperventilating when the solution, the very simple solution, struck him.
Sammy had to find Dean. Dean would know how to fix... whatever was wrong. Dean can fix anything. Dean can fix everything. He had to find Dean now!
But, before Sammy could put his plan into action, the fire alarm sounded and the students were told to line up at the front of the room in an orderly fashion. It became impossible to move quickly with his classmates in his path. But, once Sammy was at the doorway, he broke from his class (moving in the opposite direction, right under the grasp of Miss Carol) and began running and yelling for Dean.
Much to his dismay, the halls were packed with bodies and Sammy was a very small fish attempting to swim upstream. Frantically looking around for an opening, he found a clear route towards his right. There was a ladder, left by a custodian who had been repairing one of the many loudspeakers in the hallway, propped against the wall leaving a gap just wide enough for a small first-grader to fit through.
Sammy weaved his way through the larger students and made it to the ladder, finally progressing forward (or possibly backward). He yelled for his brother again and was about to try and squeeze through a group of older girls when a tall man, a teacher Sammy had seen in the hallway once or twice, caught him by the back of the collar. The man effectively spun Sam around and escorted the small boy out of the building - but not before Sammy let out one more desperate scream for his brother at the door.
Moments later, he was sitting (deposited by the man who barely gave him a glance) on a parking block next to Miss Carol - who had hugged him and Sammy was sure he would soon be made fun of for that. His face was flushed, not from embarrassment (though that would come later), but from the anger mixed with fear he was feeling. He knew the tears were still sliding from his eyes as sure as he knew that there was no way that he could stop them.
Sammy kept his focus on the front doors of the school, where all of the students were exiting for the fire drill - all of the students except his big brother. He knew there was no real fire (though the smell of smoky grilled hamburgers from the fast food place across the street didn't help) but that didn't stop the rising panic he felt as each new face that came from the school did not belong to Dean.
Once again, Sammy was close to taking matters into his own hands when, once again, he was but a second too late. He had just decided to stand (and then go in and find Dean) when the school nurse walked up to Miss Carol. The woman had intended to talk to the teacher alone, but Sam would not be pushed aside.
The nurse told them that Dean was in her office. He was OK (which is always the first thing an adult says when the situation is quite less than OK), but there was an accident. Apparently, as Dean's class was taking their turn at the stairwell during the fire drill, something made Dean lose his concentration, causing him to miss the top step. According to Penelope Weaver, who was standing behind him, Dean tried to catch himself but failed, and proceeded to fall, hitting each of the concrete stairs. While he didn't break or sprain anything (in fact, there was no bloodshed at all), the result of the fall was a myriad of painful looking bruises, and there was no doubt that Dean would be stiff and sore for quite a while.