Supernatural One-Shots

Locker Problems. (Teen!Sam)

Prompt: Your family is hunting something and while their doing so, you're going to a new school. During the process you meet teen!Sam (around 14/15).

Out of all the places your parents could take you, they had to take you to Tennessee. Your dad had always said that the weather in Tennessee was like a Spanish Soap: your opinion on it could change at any time. Not only was it freezing and rainy, but this time of year the wilderness was filled to the brim with werewolves.

But the worst part was just around the corner. A new place meant a new school, and a new school meant the same routine all over again. Meet people who you think are cool, make friends, make plans, then leave out of the blue. The worst part was that by the time you had finally settled in, it would be time to pack up.

With a sigh, you pulled your backpack onto your shoulders and looked over at your mom. She had both hands gripping the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white from the tightness. Your mom never liked letting you out of her sight.

It wasn't that she didn't trust you or think that you didn't know how to protect yourself, it was just that she believed you shouldn't have to. Her and your father both grew up in the hunter's life, that being the main reason they were hesitant about having you. Not that it mattered anymore, anyway.

"I'm going now, mom." You stated, hand already on the door's handle. Her eyes met yours, a smile coming onto her face as she looked at you.

"Ok, have a good day, alright?" She told you, patting your shoulder. "Go to the library when you get out of school. Your father or I will pick you up around five."

She placed a silver dagger in your bag, putting it inside one of the hidden pockets, and with a pat on the back you were off.

The doors were being held open by a crowd of cold teenagers, most of which were taller than you and defiantly older. They shoved you slightly, but luckily being a hunter meant you had to have at least a little bit of muscle. Pushing past them, you eventually got out. Now you had to find your locker.

Locker 153, you repeated to yourself, eyes scanning the large, blue tins as you did so.

As you turned a corner your eyes met a locker labeled 150, causing a triumphant grin to pull its way onto your face. Success.

With a bit of glee, you rushed forward. Every time you got a locker at a new school, it was different from the last. It might have more shelves, it might have less shelves, it might be a half locker, whatever. Lucky for you, this school gave out whole lockers.

You quickly twisted in the combination, feeling happiness as it opened on the first try. Locker locks were your worst enemy. You could kill a ghost easy, but getting a combination right on the first try was like winning the lottery.

You pulled it open, feeling confused as you saw school things already in there.

It's probably just already got the books for those who are new to the school, you told yourself, shrugging off the confusion.

You pulled open your bag, avoiding the pocket with the blade, and pulled out a notebook. Stuffed on top of the first page was your schedule, complete with the times you would have to be in class, a grading scale, and of course the school rules. First period: Algebra II, room 138.

Hanging your jacket up on the hook at the top of the locker and throwing your bag over your shoulders, you turned around.

Standing beside you was a boy, around your age. He was maybe an inch or two taller than you, with brown specked eyes and hair to match. He was staring at you in a defensive-curious way.

"Uh, can I help you?" You asked, turning and beginning to shut the locker, only for the boy's hand to fly out and hold it open.

"What are you doing in my locker?" He replied, ignoring your question.

You turned to him, confused. "This isn't your locker. This is my locker."

He rolled his eyes, and suddenly an older boy was standing next to him. He stared you down with his vibrant green eyes, small scowl on his face.

"This is my locker, see look." He started, before reaching out and grabbing one of the textbooks from a shelf. He flipped open to the first page. "See, there's my name. Sam Winchester."

Sure enough, along one of the lines, right under a "Jesse Logans" was the name Sam Winchester, wrote in a messy black ink.

You looked down at your schedule, making sure that the number was 153, before checking the number on the locker. They were the same.

"This is my locker then, too." You replied, holding out your schedule and pointing at the spot where it gave your locker number.

Both of the strangers stared at the paper, Sam pulling it into his hand. The older kid chuckled, giving Sam a pat on the back. "Look like you have a Locker-Buddy there, Sammy."

With a roll of your eyes, your dropped the lock into Sam's hand and snatched back your paper, before turning and beginning to try and find the way to your first period. All the classrooms around you were labeled in the 200s, and sadly no signs were pointing the way to the other rooms. Not to mention, you only had about five minutes to get to your first period.