Chapter Twenty-Six: Bewitched

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When I finally reached the last class, I could swear I could hear angels singing, or maybe it was just Cas yelling at some kid. Either way it is highly possible. Looking down at my schedule, making double sure that I was at the right class, I pushed the door open. Originally the sigh that had been held captive in my lungs had been one of complete despair but was instead released as one of relief.

Sam sat behind an oak desk with his suit jacket slung across the back of his chair. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and he was intently staring at a piece of paper. None of the other students had come into the class yet. The door slammed shut behind, making both of us jump.

"Oops, sorry Sam!"

He laughed, relaxing. "Yeah, that doesn't stay open. How's your day been."

"Insert gross sobbing." I replied with a pleased smile. Making my way over to the swivel chair on the other side of the room, near his desk, I sat down with a sigh. "Its been okay though. Could have been better, but you know." I shrugged implying the overall feeling towards our situation.

The door opens and chattering students come into the room. Sam stands up, his disposition changing to one of authority. I was actually taken aback slightly by the change. This wasn't my uncle anymore, this was Mr. Stanley.

"Good afternoon-" Sam's voice drifted out of my attention as I turned to the notebooks beside me. I figured I may as well get this homework done, free up my time to other forms of torture. Strangely, Sam's voice was easy to listen to. This was one of his Latin classes and to watch these kids follow along was amazing. The hunter side of me pointed out that all of these kids could pick up an exorcism in minutes and be able to use it, given the opportunity. I shook my head slightly, no this wasn't why they were here to learn Latin. It was probably to help them get into the Ivy League colleges they had been preparing for since birth.

Frowning, I realized something that had never really crossed my mind. I had never wanted to go to a university like Harvard or Yale. It was never a goal of mine. I had maybe planned on going and getting my bachelor's degree in something like journalism then travelling around the world. I wanted to help people. To tell their stories. Now looking at my life, I realize I was. Except, instead of writing my adventures for a newspaper, they were jaunted down in an old composition notebook. Mom's notebook wasn't complete, maybe after I finished the one I was using, I'd finish writing in her's. The second generation carrying on the first ones story. It seemed honorable enough.

Flickering my gaze up to the clock on the wall, I waited for its hands to reach the 3:00 mark. Signaling my freedom. By the time it actually rolled around, I had completed my math homework, which was a "short" hundred problems. Mr. Crowely sucked and it was only day one.

As Sam's class filed out of the room, we both set free the sighs of relief.

"So how was your first day as a teacher?"

"Better than I thought it would be. Last time we worked a school job, I was a janitor and Dean was the P.E. teacher." He laughed recalling some distant memory. "Remind me to get him a whistle before we are done with this case."

"Okay?" I replied, with a confused eyebrow raise. It was more than likely one of their inside jokes that I would never understand. A knock came from the door.

"Come in," He called from his desk. A familiar dark haired girl stuck her head in the room.

"Oh good you're in here!" Cass said pushing the door open. I spun around in my chair as she sat down on one of the desks. Moments later, Castiel came into the room.

"I'm not sure I should be doing this job anymore." He replied leaning on another desk. I laughed.

"Why? Kids to much to handle?"

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