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Dean Winchester was the type of student that made teachers crazy. He was obviously smart-too smart some would say with a sigh. But he was a menace.
It was everything Sheriff Mills could do to keep the kid from dropping out the beginning of his junior year. He had looked at her with that cocky smile and said, "Sheriff, I took a quick poll. The entire Berea High community has spoken, and they think I should just get out. Mr. Zachariah voted twice."
She had sighed at him. "That's because you are a pain in his ass." Then she shook her head. "I'm not letting you drop out."
"Yeah? How you gonna stop me? I'm seventeen."
"I'll arrest you."
"You can't do that."
She eyed him irritably, then in a quiet voice, responded, "You know that isn't true."
He smiled at her weakly. "But you won't."
"No, but I'll throw your ass back into Sonny's place before you can say GED."
Dean had rolled his eyes, but the sheriff knew him well, and she knew Dean would not have brought the subject up if he were not hoping she would talk him out of it.
That was not to say it was as easy as that single conversation. He had shown up at her office at random moments for the next two years, often angry, often looking for a fight, and always threatening to quit.
It was a small town, and she had been pulling this kid out of trouble since the day his parents had been killed in a fire when he was four years old. It had been heartbreaking. From what she had been able to determine as a rookie officer sent to investigate, little Dean had awoken in the night coughing in smoke, and had rushed to his parents' bedroom. When he was unable to wake them, he turned and sprinted to his baby brother's nursery and climbed into the crib to drag the infant out and down the stairs. The child had burns all over him, smoke inhalation and bad cuts and bruises from falling, but the baby had been perfectly fine. His parents had likely been killed by the smoke before the fire had even reached the bed. Electrical wiring in those old homes could be unreliable.
Dean had not spoken to anyone but his baby brother for nearly a year after that, and when he did speak, it was to Sheriff Mills. She had continued to check on the boys regularly as time went on. She watched Dean's skin heal and his heart break.
The day the case worker said she had found a placement for Sammy, Dean had screamed until they agreed to call Jody Mills. Her heart had dropped when she arrived at the door of the county boys home to find Dean clutching his brother so tightly the toddler was wailing, but the older boy was threatening to bite anyone who tried to take him away. Jody had coaxed Dean into letting her hold Sammy, and he had stared up into her eyes with pleading, desperate whimpers as if to say, "I trust you. Don't make me sorry I trust you."
"The boys were not to be separated," she reminded the exasperated case worker.
"I'm aware of that preference, ma'am, but that's all it is. There is no mandate. And I just can't find anyone who will take both. No one wants Dean."
The child looked as if he had been slapped across the face. But his eyes hardened, and he wiped his tears away, pointing at his brother. "Sammy wants me," he argued in a quiet, venomous voice Jody had never heard in a child before.
"Oh, honey. I didn't mean-"
Jody shook her head. "Enough. I'll have a foster placement for these boys by the end of the week. In the meantime, you'll release them into my care immediately. Both of them."
Sammy had yawned at the news. Dean had given a sigh of exhaustion, and sat on the floor as if he were physically unable to stand another moment.
There were a series of bad placements, and Jody learned far more about family law than she had ever learned at the academy. It turned out that sometimes even foster parents who really tried were unable to fulfill their responsibility to their children, and Jody lived in constant dread of the phone call that inevitably came to tell her the boys would have to be moved again.
Bobby and Ellen had been less than ecstatic about the idea of taking in a ten and six year old. And if there had been anyone else left to ask, Jody would not have gone to them. But they had agreed to meet the boys, and to everyone's surprise, gruff old grease monkey Bobby Singer and roadhouse rough Ellen had fallen in love with them.
Dean had stood slightly in front of Sam and stared Bobby evenly in the eyes. Jody shook her head sadly. It was no wonder the child had such trouble connecting. He was constantly on his guard, expecting someone to steal his kid brother from his side at any moment.
Sam had smiled and waved shyly at Ellen, who smiled back at him. "I'm Sam. This is my brother Dean."
It was the way they greeted everyone. Dean glared and Sam politely introduced them both, while his hair fell in front of his sweet hazel gaze. For the first time, adults besides Jody immediately understood the dynamic between the brothers, and respected it.
Ellen had nodded. "Well, Sam, Dean, I'm Ellen. This is Bobby. I got a daughter, Jo, about your age, Sam. I know she would like to have a big brother like you've got to help look after her."
Sam had given her a half-grin, but Dean had stopped breathing momentarily. Jody watched his eyes with interest as he processed this interaction. When he started breathing again, it was shallowly, as he flicked his eyes around the room. Jody knew Dean well enough to know he was checking his exits. She sighed.
"He's a good brother," Sam confirmed in a bashful voice.
Dean turned back to Bobby with a challenging glower. "So, what? Officer Mills talked you into letting us stay here a few weeks? You got books Sam can read? He don't need nothing else. I can take care of it. But they didn't let him keep his books when the Campbells kicked us out."
Jody watched Bobby's hard face melt into a smile. His voice was still gruff when he spoke, but Jody knew immediately that he was won over by this defensive boy whose first concern was making sure his little brother had books to read. "I got books. I got books on every subject in the world. None of the sorry fairy tales. I got books on the real world. History, geology, archaeology, languages, religion-"
Dean was frowning, but his eyes were taking on a look of hunger that fascinated Jody. "Religion? Like, uh, angels and stuff?"
Bobby was watching him from under his greasy cap. "Yeah. Some of it."
Dean nodded slowly. "And you got cars. You fix cars?"
"Yeah. You like cars, boy?"
His frown deepened, and he swallowed hard. "I won't touch them. I swear."
Bobby glanced at Ellen briefly, then back to the boy. He took a breath. "The hell you won't. You're going to help me in the shop in the afternoons after school."
Jody had never seen Dean's eyes look so hopeful before. He was struggling not to smile, but he nodded curtly. "Yes, sir."
The younger boy pushed his hair out of his eyes, and looked at his brother. "So are we staying?"
Dean looked at Jody, and licked his lips. Then he shrugged. "We do what Officer Mills tells us to do," he barked. Then he folded his arms over his chest. "You know that."
Sam nodded. He looked at Jody then. "Can we please, Officer Mills? I promise we'll be good. I won't even make any noise."
The ten year old flicked his eyes dangerously at Ellen as if daring her to require silence of his brother.
The older woman snickered. "Jo will eat you alive if you don't speak up for yourself sometimes, Sammy. You boys can share a room?"
"We always share a room," Dean confirmed, as though there were no other acceptable option.
"He snores, but it's okay. It helps me sleep."
The older boy gritted his teeth and a flush crossed his freckles.
Ellen looked at Jody. "Well, since that is the most adorable thing I've ever heard, we can give this a try."
In the coming years, Sam flourished in the stable environment. He and Jo became inseparable almost right away. They were equally happy climbing trees and wrestling together as they were playing video games. The two of them stepped into a synchronized routine. They participated in an oddly sacred ritual nearly every afternoon. Sam would walk with her to the public library after school, and they would find comic books to bring home. He lay on his back on her bedroom floor, she lay on her stomach on her bed above him, and they spent quiet hours sharing space, exchanging occasional comments about characters, plot lines and appreciation of artwork.
Dean had been confused and suspicious of the friendship at first. He tagged along on their activities for a long time, though he generally did not participate in them. He watched the way they interacted, how sometimes Sam let Jo make decisions about what they did and how, and other times Jo deferred to Sam in a comfortable, easy way. Within a few months, he allowed the two of them more and more time alone, and for the first time in his life, Dean was forced to wonder what it was he himself wanted to do with his time.
Ellen was often at the roadhouse she owned near the interstate, sometimes until very late. Bobby was always around somewhere, but spent a great deal of time cursing underneath cars or in his den surrounded by his books. Weeks and months flew by as Dean stumbled through daily life in this new environment where no one yelled at him and Sam was happy. He gradually learned how to accept the food Ellen cooked graciously, stopped waiting to ensure Sam had enough before eating from his own plate. He still waited until he heard his brother’s breath steady with sleep before turning onto his side and allowing himself to doze, but he slept more soundly than he had in years. He still double-checked and sometimes triple-checked that the stove was off and appliances were unplugged before getting ready for bed each night and before heading to school each morning, but it became a habit rather than a fear after a time, and he was grateful that no one in this home seemed annoyed by it. By the end of the first year, he had stopped cringing every time a doorbell or phone rang, and simply looked up attentively.
Jody still checked on him, and he liked that. She was the only person he had ever felt comfortable asking to check the smoke alarms in the house, and it got to the point where she would do so as soon as she walked in, without needing reminding. She showed him how to do it himself, but he always felt better knowing Jody had checked as well.
When he had realized that he and Sam had been in this home for longer than they had been anywhere else, he had experienced his first true panic attack. Ellen had come in to the bedroom to find him sitting cross-legged on the floor. His elbows were on his knees, and he was breathing in shuddering sobs into his hands.
“Are you all right, Dean?” she had asked softly, closing the door behind her.
His head had shot up, and the terror in his eyes told her exactly how troubled this boy still was. “I think I might…be dying.”
She knelt beside him and took his hands in hers. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing!” he barked. “Nothing!”
“Okay. Then let’s get you calmed down. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”
The promise softened some of the fear, and he was able to gulp in a breath with difficulty. It was several minutes before he could stop shaking, and more before he could meet her eyes again.
Ellen had sat patiently with him until he was breathing properly. “Do you want to talk, Dean?” she asked quietly.
He shook his head. “No.”
“Okay. Tell me if you do. We care about you, Dean. If something is hurting you, if you’re worried about something, we should figure it out together.”
“I’m fine. Just…just tired. My stomach is upset. I have homework to do.”
She listened to each disjointed excuse without comment.
The eleven year old boy watched her from the corner of his eye, then forced words out of his mouth hoarsely. “Ellen, if you ever…”
“Ever what, Dean?”
He tried to take another breath, and closed his eyes to say the hardest words he had ever even thought. “Ellen, you like Sam. I know you do. Hell, everybody likes Sam. So if you ever…you know. If you decide I’m too much trouble, I get it. It’s no problem. But please keep Sammy. He’s so happy here, with you and Jo. He’s never been in a home somewhere like this before. So when you need to have Officer Mills come, it’s okay. She’ll find someplace for me to be. But please keep Sammy. He don’t…he don’t need me like before. I won’t fight it, you know, just to keep him with me, and I’ll make him be okay with it too. And he won’t be trouble for you. He’s a good kid.”
“Dean, are you happy here?”
“Sammy is so happy here,” he repeated, as if he had misunderstood the question.
Ellen laughed quietly. “Dean, that isn’t what I asked. Are you happy here? With Bobby and me. Are you happy?”
At last, he opened his eyes, and looked into hers with a sudden horror. “Do I seem like I don’t appreciate it? Like I’m not grateful? I don’t mean to sound like that. You and Bobby…and Jo too…Please don’t think I don’t…Thank you so much, for everything you’ve done for me and Sam.”
Ellen reached out and touched the boy’s cheek with a tenderness that surprised them both. It made Dean cringe and close his eyes again, but he did not pull away. “Dean, are you happy here?”
“Yes,” he breathed. He sounded defeated, humiliated. But the boy who lied to everyone as if it were his native language found in that moment that he could not lie to Ellen. “Yes, I’m happy here.” The tears squeezed out of his eyes, and he could not make it stop.
She nodded. “Good. Because we’re keeping you both.” She kissed the top of his head, stood and left the room without another word.
Dean crawled onto the bed, faced the wall and cried his heart out for the rest of the evening. That night was the first he fell asleep without checking the house and waiting for Sammy, and it was the deepest sleep he could ever remember.
***
It was when Sam was ten that Dean was kicked off the lacrosse team for punching another player. When he had heard the news, he had hurried home to be there when his big brother arrived. He waited for him nervously, wondering what Dean’s mood would be. Lacrosse had channelled Dean’s aggression for a long time, and he just did not know what the boy would do without it.
By the time Dean wandered toward the house, he was walking stiffly and somewhat crookedly. His backpack was sliding off his shoulder, and it was clear his eyes were having trouble focusing. Sam glanced around quickly for Bobby, even knowing the man had gone into town for parts. “Dean!” he called in a hiss.
The older boy narrowed his eyes. “Sammy?” he growled. He could not seem to locate the boy at first. When his eyes settled at last on his kid brother standing with arms folded in front of him, he snorted humorlessly. “The hell are you looking at?”
Sam stood his ground. “Ellen catches you drinking, she’ll beat the hell out of you, Dean.”
“Whatever. Let her.” He tossed his backpack onto the porch, allowing it smack into the screen door.
“Where’d you even get it?”
“Stole it from Rufus’s shed.”
The boy’s eyes went wide. “You stole it from Uncle Rufus? Seriously? How’d you even get into his shed?”
“Picked the lock. Jesus! Why you asking me so much?”
“Ain’t my fault you can’t think.”
Dean’s gaze finally focused sharply on his little brother in a way that made Sam take an involuntary step back. “Ain’t?”
“Isn’t?” Sam corrected, confused.
It quickly became clear that Dean was challenging the statement and not the grammar. “It ain’t your fault I can’t think.” He laughed with a bitterness that dripped from every word. “Who’s fault is it?”
“Yours! You just said you snuck off with-“
“And you’re saying I’m just drunk, that it?”
Sam sighed. “I don’t know what you’re even talking about.”
“I can think just fine when I haven’t been drinking, I guess. That what you’re saying?”
It did not seem like a question that should be answered, so he did not.
“Right,” Dean spat. “Always thinking, that’s me. Every teacher at school will tell you how much thinking I do.”
Sam sighed, lowering his eyes to the ground. “Dean, if you’re pissed that somebody called me the smart one again, you can just shut up. I work hard at school. Jo and I actually do our homework.”
Dean scoffed. “What the hell kinda homework do you have? You’re a fifth grader!”
“Sixth.”
“Whatever!”
Sam knew Dean did not like to be reminded that even though they were four years apart in age, Sam was only three years behind him in school.
Dean pulled a trembling hand down his face. He was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke again without looking at Sam. “Got kicked off lacrosse,” he muttered. “And I can’t go to school for two days.”
His little brother sighed. “Aw, Dean. Suspended too?”
He laughed gruffly, and sat on the porch steps to stare down at his boots. “Yeah. Bobby’s going to kill me.”
“No he won’t.” Sam sat beside him.
Dean’s eyes were sparkling too much, and it was not long before Sam could see tears dropping onto the dust below. He knew better than to say anything. “The minute I can, I’m dropping out. I just can’t do this school thing. High school sucks. It really does.”
“You do a lot of it to yourself.”
A throaty laugh pushed its way out, shaking several new tears loose to hit his boots. “You think? Look, I know it ain’t your fault, but it really does suck when people meet you first.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You’re Sam Winchester’s big brother?” Dean mocked with a snicker. “How come you’re an idiot? Sam’s so freaking smart. Like a freaking prodigy. What the hell happened to you?”
“If it helps, it sucks for me when they meet you first. The first thing they say is they figured I'd be taller.”
Dean gave a real laugh finally, and reached over to mess up his brother’s hair. “You’ll get there. Hell, your feet are so stupidly big you’ll probably be taller than me one day.”
“Yeah. Right.”
“I gotta shower before Bobby gets back. Don’t tell him about the suspension. I’ll intercept the phone call that’s coming from Mr. Zachariah, and I’m going to leave for school like always in the morning. I’ll just hang out in town till it’s time to walk home.”
“What are you going to say about lacrosse?”
Dean winced, but forced the smile to remain on his face. “The truth. It was getting boring anyway.”
Sam knew when Dean was lying. He had always been able to tell when Dean was lying, probably because he had heard him do it so many thousands of times. But as per their usual arrangement, he pretended not to notice. “Right. You got better things to do.”
“I’m going to shower, then get to work on that poor Impala out back. I think Bobby wants to give up on her, but she’s got too much personality-too much potential-to just let her rot out here. She tries hard. She really does. She just…needs to get her shit together. She’s been through a lot, but she can pull it together. I know she can. I can’t just let Bobby give up on her.”
“Bobby isn’t going to give up on you, Dean.” Sam’s voice was so quiet that he was not sure Dean had heard him on his way in the house.
It was three months later that Dean was sent to Sonny’s. It was the agreement the prosecutor, Jody and the rest of them had reached after the vandalism and theft charges. Bobby had been so angry he could not even speak to Dean, had left Jody and Ellen to sort out the details of Dean’s departure. Sam had listened at doors for a week, trying to learn whether Dean was going to have to go to jail or if he was going to be allowed to ever come home. He was furious with his brother. Jo had told him to stow it for now, but he was seething.
“How could he do this? After everything Bobby and Ellen have done for us? And what if they tell him he can’t come back?”
Jo frowned at him. “They aren’t going to do that. Mom and Bobby love Dean as much as you or me.”
“They don’t have to keep him, Jo. You get that, right? Hell, they might be so mad they kick me out too!”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“But how could he take that chance? They’re our guardians, Joey, not our parents. It’s different with you.”
She grabbed at his arm. “It isn’t, okay? It isn’t different. Bobby's said it, family don't end with blood. You’re my brothers, Sammy. Bobby and Mom are just as much your parents as they are mine. And being mad isn’t enough to tell Dean he can’t come back. You’ve been here four years, Sam! It isn’t like you just got here!”
Sam shook his head, but he did not argue any more. He would never be able to make Jo understand. He was livid with his brother, and so sick with worry that he had vomited after both breakfast and lunch that day. At this rate, he’d never grow any taller.
***
“Dean, if I hear the letters GED again, I’m going to call Ellen and ask her if she’d like to help me beat you.” Jody leaned back in her chair to scrawl on her clip board. She was so far behind in paperwork that she was probably not going to make it home this weekend.
The boy shrugged moodily. “I could pass the test,” he muttered, almost to himself.
“I know you could. And you know that isn’t the point.”
“Whatever.” He went back to tapping his pencil on his notebook while humming Metallica. Then he looked up. “What do you even use trigonometry for anyway?”
“Kid, I don’t know. Computers, I guess. Maybe architecture. I’m a cop, Dean.”
He nodded, and scanned his eyes across the page. “I don’t need it to be a mechanic, I bet.”
“Probably not.”
He licked his lips. “So I may or may not have pissed off the anal probe.”
Jody threw her hands up and shoved her rolling chair away from the desk. “Dammit, Dean, I’m not going to get any work done with you here. Fine. What did you do to your probation officer? And stop calling him that.”
Dean did not look up, but a smile crossed his face. He truly enjoyed attention from Jody, and he did not really care what type of attention it was. When he split her focus, she always dropped things that were far more important than him, rather than tell him to shut up. He loved that. “Sent flowers to his wife. Found out she works at the district office.”
Jody let her forehead fall into her palm. “Dean, you’re killing me.”
“What? I signed them, ‘Love from James Dean.’ He’ll think it’s funny.”
“He won’t think it’s funny. Ennis Ross does not have a sense of humor. Trust me.”
Dean shrugged.
“What’s going on, Dean?”
He could hear the exhaustion in her voice, and immediately began to pack up his schoolwork. He had done as much as he was probably going to do anyway. “I’m awesome, Sheriff. I’ve been a fine, upstanding citizen for months now, if you forget about signing Ross up for gay porn to clog his inbox and having cheap sex toys delivered to his office on occasion.”
“You’re a little shit, you know that? He could probably press charges.”
“For what? For me sending him love? He can’t prove it came from me anyway.”
“You just confessed it to an officer, Dean.”
“Whatever. You think it’s funny.”
She held her smirk back by raising her eyebrow. “I don’t. You’re going to get yourself in trouble. Not everyone thinks you’re adorable, you know.”
He threw his backpack onto his shoulder and flashed her a devastating grin. “What are you talking about? I’m a joy to be around.”
“My ass.”
“If you weren’t so old, Sheriff. If only you weren’t so old.”
“Get out of my office.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He paused in the doorway for a moment. “Sheriff?”
“What, Dean?”
He did not turn back to look at her, and there was an awkward silence before he made himself speak. “Just…thank you.” He cleared his throat. “It’s been fourteen years today. Did you realize?”
She caught her breath in her throat. November 2nd. “Oh, Dean. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even notice the date.”
“No, why would you? Seriously. I just…figured I should say it. Thanks for what you did for me. Especially for Sammy.” He stared at his boots anxiously. “I don’t really know what I’d be right now if things had happened differently. If you hadn’t been there, hadn’t always been there. And you didn’t have to be. It’s just important that you know I know that.”
Jody’s voice was strained when she responded. “Of course, kid. It’s my job.”
He shook his head, adjusted the pack on his shoulder, and ducked his head another inch. “No. It isn’t. It wasn’t. So thank you.” With that, he hurried out of the office and down the hall. He forced himself to flash a charismatic smile at everyone in the sheriff’s department. They all smiled back at him, shouted a greeting and went back to work as the door closed behind him. That was exactly what Jody could have done, he knew. She could have been kind to him fourteen years ago, investigated his case, assumed his smiles were real and then gone back to her job without another look back. Instead, she was still there to help him heal every time he got himself burned.
The scared boy had become an angry man. It was only his adoration for Jody and his appreciation for Bobby and Ellen that kept him from becoming a truly dangerous person, his love for Sam and Jo that kept him from straying too far off the reservation. He was grateful to have so many good people in his life, keeping his volatility in check. He would kill or die for any of these people, and sometimes it frightened him how certain of that he truly was.