(Present Day — 2016)
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Morning sunlight bled through the tall windows of Crestfield Academy, cutting the hallway into thin golden strips. Students packed every corner— laughing, shoving, flirting, half-awake and loud. Lockers slammed shut. Sneakers squeaked against the tiles. A couple made out near the stairwell. Someone spilled iced coffee and cursed. Phones were already out, screens glowing everywhere.
The usual morning chaos.
Alan Winchester slipped through it quietly, shoulders slightly hunched, backpack hanging low. He moved like someone who had learned how to disappear. Students parted around him without realizing it— like he wasn't fully part of the same world.
He didn't stop to talk. He didn't smile. All he was doing was just surviving by keeping his head down, staying quiet and out of trouble.
Then—
A shoulder slammed into him. Hard. Deliberate.
"Watch it, Winchester," Jason Harper said without even slowing down, his friends laughing behind him.
"C'mon, Jason," one of them snorted. "Don't waste time on some nerd."
Alan's jaw tightened. He didn't turn around. Didn't react. Just reached his locker and twisted the dial, forcing himself to breathe evenly.
Under his breath—barely audible:
"…you're the one who bumped into me, asshole…"
Click.
The locker swung open, revealing a chaotic mess of notebooks, folded blueprints, and loose scraps of technical sketches. A few papers slipped out and fluttered to the floor. Alan caught one mid-fall, his movements were sharp— sharper than anyone would guess for a powerless kid.
He glanced at it and flipped a page.
Exosuit schematics. Energy routing. Encryption drafts.
Science was his battlefield. Knowledge was the only place he ever won.
"Morning, Alan."
He looked up.
Anna stood there, shifting her weight, smiling softly. Books hugged to her chest, her hair bouncing slightly when she moved.
"O-oh— h-hey," he said, quickly sliding the locker door halfway shut.
"Thanks again for helping me with the physics assignment yesterday," she said, holding out her notebook. "I actually understood it for once."
Alan took it and shrugged. "It's just patterns. Anyone can learn them if they look at it from the right angle."
She giggled. "Maybe. But not everyone's a genius like you."
For the first time that morning, Alan smiled— just a little.
"Alright," she said, stepping back. "See you in class later, Al."
She turned, then paused when his voice followed her.
"Wait Anna— uh…um, have you seen Rose and Damian today? They should've been here by now."
Anna pointed down the hall. "Yeah, their teacher's holding them back. Like thirty minutes or something."
"Ah… alright. Thanks." He tapped his chin. "Guess I'll wait for them in the library then."
"No problem!" she said, smiling again before heading off.
Two girls intercepted her almost immediately.
"Yo, giiirl, come on," one laughed. "Let's grab snacks before class."
Anna grinned. "Hell yea. You can't survive long boring classes without some. Let's gooo."
Their voices faded into the hallway noise.
Alan exhaled.
Peace lasted about two seconds.
Two figures leaned against the lockers across from him, arms crossed.
Mark and John.
Walking headaches.
Mark nudged John with his elbow, eyes locked on Alan.
"Look at this motherfucker," Mark muttered. "Dude's all happy and shi."
John cracked his knuckles— loud, intentional. "Man, I'm starving. Let's get lunch money from our rich little pig."
They moved before Alan even noticed them closing in.
"Hey, dumbass. Heads up."
Alan turned. "Huh—?"
WHAM.
A punch slammed into his back, knocking the air out of his lungs. His books flew from his arms, smacking the floor and skidding across the hallway.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Phones shot up instantly.
"Yo— Mark just sucker-punched Alan!"
Someone else laughed. "Eh, he had it coming. Dude thinks being top of the class makes him better than everyone."
Another voice chimed in, bitter. "Yeah, he ignored me once when I was talking to him. What a dick."
Alan gritted his teeth and slowly pushed himself upright. His vision swam from the hit, spots dancing at the edges, but Mark's stupid grin stayed perfectly clear.
Mark stepped closer, his shadow swallowing Alan where he stood.
"What's wrong, Winchester?" Mark said casually, tilting his head. "Looking for something down there?"
John snorted from beside him. "Yeah. Heard you've been running your mouth lately. Talking trash and shit." He cracked his neck. "That's cute. But you forgot to pay your dues. School food's garbage, so cough it up."
Alan's hands curled into fists at his sides. His heartbeat wasn't fear. It was anger layered with calculation, pressure building behind his ribs.
"What the hell was that for, you dicks?" Alan snapped.
He did not want a fight. But the fight had already decided and picked him instead.
Mark raised an eyebrow. "Do we really need a reason to say hello to someone?"
Alan glanced around the hallway. Students hovered at a safe distance, pretending not to stare while very clearly staring. Phones were already up. But there were no teachers. Of course there were no teachers when it mattered.
"…fuck it," Alan muttered.
He straightened fully, pain flaring through his back, but he forced himself to stand tall. "You assholes think you can do whatever you want? This is a school. You cannot just pull this shit whenever you feel like it."
The hallway reacted.
Mark and John blinked at him.
Then they burst out laughing.
Mark bent forward, clutching his stomach. "Oh my god— he thinks he can fight us. That's adorable."
John wiped fake tears from his eyes. "That punch really scrambled him. Look at that glare. Dude looks like he's about to murder us or something." He grinned. "Scary."
Alan inhaled slowly through his nose. He was outmatched. He knew it. He had no powers, no backup, no advantage except instinct. But he was done backing down.
He lifted his head, meeting their eyes. His voice stayed steady.
"Do not mistake my silence for weakness. I stayed quiet because I did not want trouble. But if you keep disrespecting me, I am done letting it slide."
The laughter faded.
Mark's smile sharpened. John's expression hardened.
"Really now?" Mark said, rolling his shoulders. "And what exactly is a powerless loser like you gonna do about it? huh?"
John moved first.
He lunged in fast and sloppy, throwing a straight punch toward Alan's ribs.
Alan barely dodged, twisting out of the way as the fist grazed his jacket. He swung back on instinct, aiming for John's jaw.
He missed.
"Fuck," Alan hissed.
Mark came in immediately, throwing a heavy hook. Alan ducked and blocked it with both forearms crossed in front of his face, the impact rattling his bones.
That was the opening.
John swept his legs out from under him.
Alan's balance vanished.
CRACK.
His body slammed into the floor, the impact rattling his skull.
"Got your ass now, bitch," John sneered, driving a kick into Alan's side.
"Ugh—shit—" Alan groaned as pain shot through his ribs. Alan gasped, air tearing out of his lungs. He rolled away, coughing, and forced himself to his knees.
The hallway erupted.
Some students cheered. Some recorded. Others muttered encouragement like it was entertainment.
"Knock his ass out!"
"Yo, hurry up!"
Mark's smile finally slipped. "Annoying little shit."
John placed a hand on Mark's arm. "Let's go easy. He doesn't even have powers."
Mark shoved his arm away. "Let me handle this."
Alan surged forward on pure adrenaline, throwing two quick punches at Mark's face.
They landed directly on Mark's forehead.
Pain shot up Alan's arms instantly. He recoiled, shaking his hands, staring at them in disbelief. "What the fuck— is this guy ma—"
Mark slammed his forehead straight into Alan's.
The impact exploded behind Alan's eyes.
Mark grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forward.
A punch drove into Alan's gut.
All the air left his lungs.
"You really think you can fight me?" Mark snarled. "You are a mere pathetic powerless little fuck. You never had a chance."
Another punch hit his ribs. Then his jaw. Then his side.
Alan staggered, struggling to stay conscious, vision blurring as pain stacked on pain.
"You still wanna act tough?" Mark hissed. "You still think you matter?"
John grabbed Mark's arm again, eyes darting down the hallway. "Dude, chill. You are gonna seriously hurt him. That's enough."
Mark shoved him away. "Move. Do not get in my way. I am not going to kill him. I am not that dumb."
A knee slammed into Alan's stomach, folding him in half.
His legs gave out.
Shit. I am fading.
It feels like getting hit by a car.
I am tired. Too tired. Maybe if I rest a bit…
Alan collapsed onto the cold tile, gasping for air.
Blood slid from the corner of his mouth. He tried to crawl away.
Mark stomped down on his arm.
Alan screamed.
Mark crouched beside him.
John sighed. "That is enough. He will not snitch. Look at him." He glanced down at Alan. "I tried to stop Mark. Next time, think before you speak."
John laughed quietly. "Pathetic."
He reached into Alan's pocket and pulled out a few coins. "Lunch money. Nice."
The coins jingled as they walked away.
The crowd slowly dispersed.
"Show's over."
"He did not do shit after all."
"What a loser."
"He should've stayed quiet."
"C'mon, let's dip."
Laughter followed them down the hall.
Alan lay there alone, staring at the ceiling, chest burning, ears ringing.
No one came back.
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