"Elizabeth." I hear the name ringing in my head and choose to ignore it while taking pleasure in watching the colorful dots racing around my head. Colors of orange, yellow, and brown, dance around me. I feel peace in the colors, they illuminate my mind.
"Elizabeth! Wake up or I will have to write you another detention slip." I reluctantly open my eyes, with no rush. I lift my head from the cold surface of the metal table it had been resting on.

"Ms.Oswald, good morning." I look past her, to the window in the classroom. The color of fall splatters itself on the trees, and on the ground. I want to feel that breeze rush over me. I want to be out there, under that tree that calls to me.

"Elizabeth, come on. I'm tired of spending my evenings with you. I don't want to write you another detention slip but I will."

I look past her again. The board has some seemingly important lesson plans scribbled all over it. The entire class is staring at me, seemingly awaiting their live-studio-audience reactions.

"Maybe if you didn't put me to sleep with your monotone voice and overused lesson plans, I wouldn't have to spend my evenings with you."

"Elizabeth, you are out of line." Her face colors deeply and her cheeks turn the same shade of red as the artificial apple on her desk. I can see a look in her eyes. It's not the look of anger she has given me many times before. It's a look of sadness. I've upset her in a very personal and profound way. I hear some kids chuckle. High school is some magical land where it's funny to make a teacher's life a living hell day after day. The thing is, I don't like being mean. I know it was awful for me to treat her that way, but I need her to write me that detention slip. I don't want to be alone for longer than I have to, so it's nice to spend time after school with Mrs.Oswald. There's an active case in this town anyway. I'd rather be in detention, at the coffee shop, or wherever else I can be besides home alone right now. Of course, Dad can't make it to town until next week. He obviously can't take an airplane since all he owns are fake IDs from being a hunter nearly his whole life. I wonder if I'll be like him once I graduate. Always searching for the next thing to kill and somehow managing to take care of a daughter of my own.

Mrs.Oswald is staring at me as I come back from being lost in thought. I know what that angry look means, seen those intense eyebrows one too many times. I gather my things and prepare myself for the trip to the principal's office.

"Understood." I sling my backpack over my shoulder and rise from that silly desk that held me captive for 30 minutes.

I hear whispering among my classmates as I make my exit. I can only imagine their amusement is met with a snap of Mrs.Oswald's head, those bitter eyes attached to her glare.

On my way to the office, I look down at the boring white tiles on the ground. I am 18 years old. I can sleep in class if I want to. When I reach the principal's office, a 24 square tile walk, I lift my head to see Principal Perry standing before me, looking down at me with anger. Here we go.

"Ms. Elizabeth. I thought our little visits were over."

"Yeah, yeah." I sigh and move forward as he moves out of the doorway for me. Once I'm inside, he locks the door and sits in his chair, gripping his desk to roll himself closer to it. He overlaps his fingers, resting his interlocked hands on his cherry-red desk. The leather beneath him squeaks, a sound I have also heard one too many times. I sit in a less comfortable, padded, metal chair.
"What is it this time?" He utters these words with a half-hearted smile.

"Sleeping in class."

I take my backpack off and get comfortable in the very uncomfortable hunk of metal that I'm supposed to call a chair. I don't break eye contact with him as he is seemingly contemplating what to do with me. When his mouth opens in the slightest way, I perk up and prepare myself for whatever punishment he is going to throw at me.

"Elizabeth, is everything okay at home?" He shuffles some papers around on his desk as I sit there astonished. A curveball, didn't see that one coming.

"I took the liberty of calling your parents. Now, I know you're 18. However, you are my responsibility until you graduate. Part of being responsible for someone is making sure they are okay. I hope I am not met with one of your typical responses. Let's talk man to man. Your mother didn't answer. Instead, I was greeted by one of the nurses who care for her at the psych ward. Your father told me he was out of town on a business trip. What's going on? You're sleeping in class, acting out. Is there some way I can help you?"

"I don't need help, Perry." Why wouldn't my dad tell me that the school called? Why would he keep that from me and not ask if I was okay after receiving a phone call like that?

"Well, you certainly don't need detention either. That would be more so punishment for Mrs.Oswald. You get a pass this time, Liz. Next time, your punishment is opening up to me. That would really suck. Go eat some lunch and try to stay out of my office for the rest of the day." He unlocks his fingers and stands, making his way to the door. I collect my backpack and what's left of my dignity. He holds the door open for me patiently.

"Thanks, P. You're the man." I return to watching the tiles on the floor as I walk down the hallway. 21,22,23... I'm so bored with this mundane life. I want to be where the action is.

On the 24th white tile, I reach Mrs.Oswald's room. The room is empty, nobody except her. Should I bother her? Her back is turned to face a window and her head is looking down at something in her lap. I hesitate, wondering if I should enter the classroom that I was dismissed from so harshly. Man up, Elizabeth.

"Mrs. Oswald." I speak softly.

She jumps and spins around in her chair to face me, a picture frame in her hand. I take it as an invitation to cross the threshold and enter her class. I stand by her as she sits in her chair. She's tense. I can tell she doesn't want to hear my smart-ass mouth today. I look down at the miniature faces of her and her husband inside the cheap picture frame she holds so tightly. She quickly throws the frame inside one of her drawers. While straightening her shirt and her posture, her eyes meet mine.
"Is there something else you need, Elizabeth?"
"Yes." I swallow my pride and throw my ego inside one of her drawers with that picture frame she didn't want me to see. She waits for me to speak, doesn't question me, and seems to be disinterested in seeing what I need. I wouldn't be interested either. I'm kind of a dick sometimes. Hopefully, this will amend some of my dickery.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have treated you like that. I'm dealing with some things and I shouldn't take it out on you. I don't think your class is boring and your voice isn't monotone at all."

I can tell she's surprised, but I don't quit while I'm ahead. I need to go full out with this apology. I don't even know if I'll be alive tomorrow, let alone long enough to ever apologize to her.

"Your husband is singing Yellow Submarine in heaven and drawing in the sunlight." I spit it out and immediately regret it.

"Excuse me?"

Shit. "He told me to tell you that he loves you and that he's so sorry that he couldn't say goodbye. He wishes he could sing to you on Earth, but he's patiently waiting in heaven."
"This isn't funny." Her eyes wonder to the side of me instead of keeping eye contact with me. A tear falls from her face, but I keep going in an attempt to comfort her.

"Um, please don't cry. I'm sorry. Do you believe in psychics? I just know things sometimes. When I am near you, I feel your pain. So your husband uses me to reach out to you sometimes. I've never told you, but I might be gone for a while after tonight. I just wanted you to know that he misses you and he doesn't regret protecting you."

"How did you know all of that? How did you know about Yellow Submarine?" She opens the drawer, and holds the picture frame once again.

"It's the song that was playing when you met. He has a birthmark on his back that looks like a submarine."

Tears stream down her face. I can't lose her. I need to get this last part out.

She places the frame into my lap, and reaches into her drawer again. She pulls out a brown paper bag, and shoves some stuff out of the way to clear her desk. She dumps the contents of it onto the desk. She slaps the sandwich in front of me.

"Would you like to sit and have lunch with me?"

Boy, that's a good-looking sandwich. How could I resist? I just destroyed this woman's sense of reality. The least I can do is eat this sandwich she gave me.

I take a seat as she bites into her little cookie. I'm about to take a bite when I hear a man's voice coming from behind me.

"Excuse me. Are you Mrs. Oswald?" It's a familiar male voice. I turn around and see two men standing in the doorway. I have lost my appetite.
Sam and Dean Winchester.
"Yes." She stands, confused.
"We are with the FBI. We just have some questions about your husband." I drop the sandwich on the desk and become extremely uncomfortable.
"What does the FBI want with a home break-incase?" She crosses her arms.
"We just go where we are sent, ma'am," Dean speaks while Sam looks at me. I grab my things and exit the room quicker than I've ever left anywhere.
I've met Sam and Dean before. It was back when I had just started hunting alone, last year. I was stupid and reckless and they saved my ass on a werewolf hunt. I don't hunt anymore every since then. Even if I get an urge, I'd never hunt alone anymore. I go to the cafeteria and seek conformity so they won't be able to identify me in a large crowd. When I feel like it's safe, I slip out of school. As I run to my car, I dial dad's number. My backpack bounces on my shoulders until I rip it off inside my car.

I am angered by the endless ringing and generic voicemail tone after Dad doesn't pick up. "Dad, you have to call me back. I did something bad and I'm scared. The Winchesters are here. They don't know about me yet, but they're the Winchesters. They'll find out. Please call me back. I'm scared."