"The Future's So Bright …"
By December
Rating: G
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Summary: Dean didn't usually like babysitters, but Danny was different. Dean just didn't know how different.
A/N: My first attempt at writing a crossover fic. Insert appropriate insecurities here.
Dean didn't like babysitters. He was ten years old, and he could take care of himself and Sammy just fine while Dad was off on a Hunt. He knew how to handle a shotgun, when to answer the door and when to ignore it, how to make chili for dinner (well, canned chili anyhow,) and how to get ahold of Pastor Jim if Dad didn't show up when he was supposed to.
"It's not an option, Dean," Dad told him in that no-nonsense tone that stopped arguments cold. "Mrs. Higgins across the street watches everything that goes on around here, and she'll call Child Protective Services in a New York minute if she ever sees that I've left you two alone."'
"But we're in Maryland," Sam objected, focusing on the least important detail.
"I hate that nosy old bat," Dean complained.
"It's nosey old bats like Mrs. Higgins that make the best witnesses when you're trying to figure out what you're hunting. And you like Danny from next door, don't you? He's the one that's going to look after you two while I'm 'at work'." Dad reminded them of the cover story for his hunting trips.
"He's okay," Dean admitted reluctantly. Danny wasn't so bad, as older kids went. Okay, he was a sixteen and a bookworm and had probably never seen anything scarier in his lifetime than a radio station haunted house at Halloween, but he treated Dean like he was a person and not a trained seal, like Jodi, the last babysitter, did.
So Danny came over after school when Dad was out. He'd make sure that they got dinner; sometimes even something that wasn't out of a can. He'd help Dean with his homework if he needed it, but he wouldn't do it for Dean (much to Dean's dismay) and he'd work with Sam on his reading. Danny would let them watch TV while he did his own homework, but not until dinner was over and the dishes were done.
During dinner, they'd talk about stuff. Dean liked that Danny talked to him like an equal, not using "that tone" like it was Dean that was five instead of Sammy. Dean found out that that Danny lived with his mom because his dad had died about ten years ago in some sort of accident. Not around here, though. Danny didn't like to talk about it any more than Dean liked to talk about his mom's "accident," so they had an unspoken agreement to avoid that particular subject. Instead they talked about sports and music and bugs and all the other kinds of things boys talk about just because they can.
After about a month and a half, it was time for the Winchesters to move again. Dad told the boys that he should be done with his current hunt tonight, and they'd be leaving tomorrow. Danny was quiet that night, lost in thought.
"Your brother's pretty special," Danny told Dean that night after Sam was in bed.
"I know," Dean had figured that one out a long time ago.
"No, I mean special - different," Danny tried to explain.
"Sam's not stupid!" Dean protested indignantly. He knew that euphemism.
"No, he's not stupid. It's just … it's hard to explain. Some day, he'll be able to do things that most people can't." Danny seemed almost as puzzled as Dean.
"Like what?" Dean wanted the facts.
"I'm not sure, Dean. It's not going to be for a long time yet. I tell you what, though. If you or Sam ever need someone to talk to about … stuff, you call me. Just keep my mom's phone number; she'll live in the house we have now for a really long time and she'll know where to get ahold of me. I don't know if I'll be able to help, but it'll help Sam to know he's not alone." Danny seemed oddly confident in his statement.
"Sam's never going to be alone, he's got me and Dad!" Dean objected. He didn't understand what Danny was talking about. In fact, he wasn't sure that Danny knew what Danny was talking about.
"Of course he does, Dean. Just keep the phone number. Promise me." Danny agreed, writing his name and phone number on a piece of paper from his backpack.
"Whatever," Dean agreed, shrugging and taking the phone number. Danny was weird sometimes. But he liked Danny, so he'd keep the number and try to remember what Danny had told him. He glanced at the name and number written in Danny's untidy scrawl. "Hey, Danny, what does this say your last name is?"
Danny looked up with a quick grin. "It's Torrance. Danny Torrance."