Categories > TV > Supernatural > Burn it to the ground.
Burn it to the ground.
0 reviewsJohn walked out on his wife and young son four years ago. Now sixteen, an unruly dean is sent of to live with his absent father who, in his eyes, ruined his life.
0Unrated
So I never really know what to say in these little notes, but here goes nothing. First of all, thanks for clickity-clicking on this wee fic. It was nothing more than a boredom killer for me, so if people like it, then that is just a plus. I just want to say that it is based off of a book I read a very long time ago when I was about eleven. I forget the name, but I believe it was by Cathy Cassidy. So, I hope you enjoy, please let me know if you do and have a wonderful day! X
I was in trouble, yet again. Big trouble, enormous trouble. The kind of big trouble that requires hushed, urgent phone calls to be made from the Principal’s office to my mom, while I laze about smugly on the uncomfortable plastic chair outside in the tackily decorated hallway. I pick up my scuffed AC/DC backpack from the floor and after a few second of rummaging around feel my hands clasp around my battered looking old cell. Ignoring the school`s policies, the device bleeps into life, playing a brief and jaunty little tune, before showing me my lock screen, the black and red lyrics from “Highway to hell,” make up my wallpaper. The receptionist walks with purpose to her desk, her sensible black shoes click-clacking away. She glares at me from behind a stack of paperwork, which she briefly glances over before taking it into the office, tutting as she closes the door gently. She knocks once and enters without waiting for a reply. Impatient bitch.
Where are you?
I chuckle and put the phone in my pocket before relaxing further back into the chair, resting one leg atop the other. A mere two minutes later it bleeps again. And twice more before I finally shut it off, not wanting to deal with my best friend/partner in crime`s pretentious bullshit right now.
You get caught?
You know better than to snitch on us.
Right?
Cause I don’t wanna hurt you.
Good ol` Lucifer, always the concerned best friend. It didn`t take a rocket scientist to figure out that there was a silent “but I will,” in his message. Load of crap anyway, Luke lived for hurting others weaker than himself, a big part of him got off on it I think. The dick. The door opens not long afterwards to reveal one of the most hideous creatures you could ever have the sheer dumb luck of meeting.
“Dean Winchester!” Ms Young`s beady eyes narrow. Her voice is shrill, piercing my ears and I resist the urge to cover them.
Smiling politely up at her I ask her what the matter was, playing the part of the sweet little fool well.
“I am unable to contact your mother. Her secretary says she is in an urgent meeting and they daren`t call her away from it.” Her thin bottom lips curls up.
I sympathize, “Too bad,” I smirk and kick my feet up on the small coffee table in front of me, one eyebrow raised daring her to say something.
I was no stranger to trouble, I was what my late Grandmother affectionately referred to as a “free spirit,” an impulsive, hard to control kid who had a strong dislike for all things authority. Back when I was still her favourite Grandkid, at least. Her only Grandkid. Trouble followed me wherever I went, and if I had learnt one thing it was this; there is no use hanging your head in shame and feigning apologies, they never believe you anyway so why bother?
It is well past three by the time Mom finally decides to make an appearance. She probably stopped for a nice long coffee first. Two sugars and just a splash of milk. Anything to put of this situation. By now Mrs Smith is busy slaving over the computer, fake nails tapping irritatingly against the cheap keyboard. My eye twitches.
The doors swing open with a clatter at three forty six. Damn she looked pissed this time. Worse than last time when I was caught smoking behind the toilets with Lucifer, or that one time and my old high school when me and that stuck up Bela girl were caught groping each other in the teacher`s lounge. Not my idea, hers.
Ms Young, which is a massive joke by the way, snaps her head as Mom enters, eyes narrowing in distaste as she glances at the clock hanging proudly on the beige wall.
“What has he done this time?” She asks icily, tucking a long stand of expensively highlighted hair behind her ear.
The old battle-axe’s grey eyes light up at the question, and Mrs Smith even stop assaulting the computer key board to look up briefly, her lips curled up as though she was sucking on a bitter lemon.
“We will keep it brief, Ms Campbell. Please, come through to my office.” Her grey eyes turn on me, “You too.” She says with a smug smile. “First may I apologise wholeheartedly for disturbing you at work-“
“Cut the crap, ok? It has been a very long day.”
She nods and smiles, but I can see she is shaken.
“Dean assaulted another student. He is a disgrace to this fine school and a very troubled young man.”
I screw my eyes shut to resist the urge to flip her off, to flip them all off.
“This is the last straw I am afraid we have no choice but to exclude your son.” She bites back a smile. “A third exclusion is, as I am sure you recall, final.”
“There is nothing I can say to get you to reconsider?” She asks in a dull voice, already knowing the strict answer won`t change.
“I am afraid not.”
I grin to myself, joy erupting inside me for the first time in God knows how long. So long bitches! Sayanora!
“Dean is a smart young man, very talented too. He could have done very well here, but his temper and attitude towards authority figures is just disgusting. A broken home can affect young people in very dreadful ways, have you possibly considered counselling?” she suggest in mock kindness, and Mom gets to her feet in one swift movement, that cold remark easily hitting a tender spot.
“Thank you for all your help”.” She spat icily and storms out of the badly decorated office, calling me to follow.
“Goodbye!” I smile cheerily, waving animatedly at the sadistic duo of Young and Smith.
I pause at the doorway, turning back around and raise my right hand, flipping them off with a jovial smile. They gasp, clearly horrified and I feel proud.
So long bitches…It`s has certainly interesting.
Of course, getting booted out of school for the sixth (now seventh) time in just over three years was nothing to be proud of, and smoothing things over with Mom would be no picnic, but I was just so happy to be out of there.
She slams the car door shut behind her and waits for me to get in, tapping her long painted nails against the wheel impatiently, frostily glaring at the windscreen in front of her. I slide in hesitantly in the back, deciding against sitting next to her and sling my bag onto the seat next to me.
“Well, let`s hear it.” She snaps, putting the car into drive, knuckles pale white from hew vice like grip on the wheel.
Now is when the shouting usually happens, followed by the flood of disappointed tears. Bitter old virgin school teachers didn`t scare me, in fact, I love ruffling their feathers, but my Mom did scare me. After the tears there would be more yelling, followed by empty threats of sending me back to live with my Grandfather.
The last time I had stayed there had been two years ago. I was fourteen and recently had started hanging out with some unsavoury characters, not that my current choice of friends were any better. In fact they were worse. Anyway, to impress this girl, Meg, I had snuck out of my Granddad`s house well after curfew, stolen his wallet from the nightstand, and climbed out the window. Blown over a hundred on cheap booze, the guy behind the counter not even caring to ID me, even though he knew I was well underage. Needless to say, I wasn`t invited back.
I sit there in silence, wanting to ask her to put the radio on, but I daren`t chance it. I risk a glance over at her, and she just seems to be getting even more furious.
I remember how mad she was after my second exclusion, I had never seen anything like it. Cups hit the wall, plated were smashed and she was screaming and crying at the same time. That was better than this cold silence though.
“This is your last chance Dean, Ms Young has assured me that if you step one more toe out of line you will be sent packing faster than you can blink!”
I had promised her I would try better, keep my head down, and work hard. Like all my promises, I had meant them at the time, but somewhere along the way they became nothing more than twisted lies, broken and forgotten.
We pull up outside the house, and she gets out, grabbing her designer handbag from the passenger seat and storms inside, not waiting for me. I sigh, taking a moment to prepare myself for the battle that was sure to begin as soon as I stepped inside.
I was in trouble, yet again. Big trouble, enormous trouble. The kind of big trouble that requires hushed, urgent phone calls to be made from the Principal’s office to my mom, while I laze about smugly on the uncomfortable plastic chair outside in the tackily decorated hallway. I pick up my scuffed AC/DC backpack from the floor and after a few second of rummaging around feel my hands clasp around my battered looking old cell. Ignoring the school`s policies, the device bleeps into life, playing a brief and jaunty little tune, before showing me my lock screen, the black and red lyrics from “Highway to hell,” make up my wallpaper. The receptionist walks with purpose to her desk, her sensible black shoes click-clacking away. She glares at me from behind a stack of paperwork, which she briefly glances over before taking it into the office, tutting as she closes the door gently. She knocks once and enters without waiting for a reply. Impatient bitch.
Where are you?
I chuckle and put the phone in my pocket before relaxing further back into the chair, resting one leg atop the other. A mere two minutes later it bleeps again. And twice more before I finally shut it off, not wanting to deal with my best friend/partner in crime`s pretentious bullshit right now.
You get caught?
You know better than to snitch on us.
Right?
Cause I don’t wanna hurt you.
Good ol` Lucifer, always the concerned best friend. It didn`t take a rocket scientist to figure out that there was a silent “but I will,” in his message. Load of crap anyway, Luke lived for hurting others weaker than himself, a big part of him got off on it I think. The dick. The door opens not long afterwards to reveal one of the most hideous creatures you could ever have the sheer dumb luck of meeting.
“Dean Winchester!” Ms Young`s beady eyes narrow. Her voice is shrill, piercing my ears and I resist the urge to cover them.
Smiling politely up at her I ask her what the matter was, playing the part of the sweet little fool well.
“I am unable to contact your mother. Her secretary says she is in an urgent meeting and they daren`t call her away from it.” Her thin bottom lips curls up.
I sympathize, “Too bad,” I smirk and kick my feet up on the small coffee table in front of me, one eyebrow raised daring her to say something.
I was no stranger to trouble, I was what my late Grandmother affectionately referred to as a “free spirit,” an impulsive, hard to control kid who had a strong dislike for all things authority. Back when I was still her favourite Grandkid, at least. Her only Grandkid. Trouble followed me wherever I went, and if I had learnt one thing it was this; there is no use hanging your head in shame and feigning apologies, they never believe you anyway so why bother?
It is well past three by the time Mom finally decides to make an appearance. She probably stopped for a nice long coffee first. Two sugars and just a splash of milk. Anything to put of this situation. By now Mrs Smith is busy slaving over the computer, fake nails tapping irritatingly against the cheap keyboard. My eye twitches.
The doors swing open with a clatter at three forty six. Damn she looked pissed this time. Worse than last time when I was caught smoking behind the toilets with Lucifer, or that one time and my old high school when me and that stuck up Bela girl were caught groping each other in the teacher`s lounge. Not my idea, hers.
Ms Young, which is a massive joke by the way, snaps her head as Mom enters, eyes narrowing in distaste as she glances at the clock hanging proudly on the beige wall.
“What has he done this time?” She asks icily, tucking a long stand of expensively highlighted hair behind her ear.
The old battle-axe’s grey eyes light up at the question, and Mrs Smith even stop assaulting the computer key board to look up briefly, her lips curled up as though she was sucking on a bitter lemon.
“We will keep it brief, Ms Campbell. Please, come through to my office.” Her grey eyes turn on me, “You too.” She says with a smug smile. “First may I apologise wholeheartedly for disturbing you at work-“
“Cut the crap, ok? It has been a very long day.”
She nods and smiles, but I can see she is shaken.
“Dean assaulted another student. He is a disgrace to this fine school and a very troubled young man.”
I screw my eyes shut to resist the urge to flip her off, to flip them all off.
“This is the last straw I am afraid we have no choice but to exclude your son.” She bites back a smile. “A third exclusion is, as I am sure you recall, final.”
“There is nothing I can say to get you to reconsider?” She asks in a dull voice, already knowing the strict answer won`t change.
“I am afraid not.”
I grin to myself, joy erupting inside me for the first time in God knows how long. So long bitches! Sayanora!
“Dean is a smart young man, very talented too. He could have done very well here, but his temper and attitude towards authority figures is just disgusting. A broken home can affect young people in very dreadful ways, have you possibly considered counselling?” she suggest in mock kindness, and Mom gets to her feet in one swift movement, that cold remark easily hitting a tender spot.
“Thank you for all your help”.” She spat icily and storms out of the badly decorated office, calling me to follow.
“Goodbye!” I smile cheerily, waving animatedly at the sadistic duo of Young and Smith.
I pause at the doorway, turning back around and raise my right hand, flipping them off with a jovial smile. They gasp, clearly horrified and I feel proud.
So long bitches…It`s has certainly interesting.
Of course, getting booted out of school for the sixth (now seventh) time in just over three years was nothing to be proud of, and smoothing things over with Mom would be no picnic, but I was just so happy to be out of there.
She slams the car door shut behind her and waits for me to get in, tapping her long painted nails against the wheel impatiently, frostily glaring at the windscreen in front of her. I slide in hesitantly in the back, deciding against sitting next to her and sling my bag onto the seat next to me.
“Well, let`s hear it.” She snaps, putting the car into drive, knuckles pale white from hew vice like grip on the wheel.
Now is when the shouting usually happens, followed by the flood of disappointed tears. Bitter old virgin school teachers didn`t scare me, in fact, I love ruffling their feathers, but my Mom did scare me. After the tears there would be more yelling, followed by empty threats of sending me back to live with my Grandfather.
The last time I had stayed there had been two years ago. I was fourteen and recently had started hanging out with some unsavoury characters, not that my current choice of friends were any better. In fact they were worse. Anyway, to impress this girl, Meg, I had snuck out of my Granddad`s house well after curfew, stolen his wallet from the nightstand, and climbed out the window. Blown over a hundred on cheap booze, the guy behind the counter not even caring to ID me, even though he knew I was well underage. Needless to say, I wasn`t invited back.
I sit there in silence, wanting to ask her to put the radio on, but I daren`t chance it. I risk a glance over at her, and she just seems to be getting even more furious.
I remember how mad she was after my second exclusion, I had never seen anything like it. Cups hit the wall, plated were smashed and she was screaming and crying at the same time. That was better than this cold silence though.
“This is your last chance Dean, Ms Young has assured me that if you step one more toe out of line you will be sent packing faster than you can blink!”
I had promised her I would try better, keep my head down, and work hard. Like all my promises, I had meant them at the time, but somewhere along the way they became nothing more than twisted lies, broken and forgotten.
We pull up outside the house, and she gets out, grabbing her designer handbag from the passenger seat and storms inside, not waiting for me. I sigh, taking a moment to prepare myself for the battle that was sure to begin as soon as I stepped inside.
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