In Which High School Drop Outs Aren't Always Idiots
John Winchester sighed impatiently, looking down at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes as he shifted in the too firm chair. The woman behind the desk smiled at him wanly, wrinkled features not really showing any emotion. Laura Penn her name tag read proudly.
"I'm sure Principal Lavely will be with you in just a moment, sir," Penn said.
John resisted the urge to snort; she'd said that exact line at least three times in the past twenty minutes. "I'm sure he's very busy, Ms. Penn," John barely concealed the sarcasm in his tone. "But I really do have somewhere t-"
He was cut off by the sound of a door opening behind and to the left of the secretary's desk. Penn smiled at him again, only this time it seemed to say I told you so.
"Ah, Mr. Winchester, I presume?" A tall severe looking woman stepped out. Her dark hair was long and straight, pulled back into a painfully tight ponytail. She was slender, but not bony, and John could tell she was in shape. The slight crow's feet and wrinkling at the corners of her lips betrayed her age, though, which John estimated to be around mid-forties.
John nodded as he stood, ignoring the hand Principal Lavely extended in greeting. "Care to tell me what this is about?"
"Just step inside my office, and I'll explain everything." She was unfazed by John's gruff tone and decidedly poor manners, turning slightly to sweep her hand towards the still open door.
John tensed slightly as he walked in the room in front of the principal; though she was no threat, the thought of somebody at his unprotected back made his skin crawl. Either ignoring or not noticing the man's discomfort, Lavely stepped in quickly behind him as she pulled the door closed, stepping around to her desk.
"Sit, please."
John narrowed his eyes slightly, but descended to a plush chair set across from the desk where Lavely now sat.
"What is this about, exactly?"
"What did Ms. Pen say when she called?"
John narrowed his eyes at the woman's avoidance. He was damn curious and the only way he could see to get the woman to talk was to answer her or beat her. He went with the former. "That it was about Dean, and I should come down to the school as soon as I could." He wanted to ask if this was about fighting or janitor-closet-escapades but held his tongue. He didn't want to jump to conclusions.
"Yes, Dean." The way the principal spoke his son's name made the hairs on the back of John's neck raise. It sounded halfway between a curse and a prayer. "You have a very… interesting boy, there, Mr. Winchester."
John felt a muscle in his eye twitch; he hated being out of the loop. "Yes."
Lavely smiled humorlessly, but her eyes shown with a kind of bizarre light that threw John. "Had Dean spoken to you about college?"
John felt all of his annoyance just melt away as he stared blankly at the woman in front of him. Hearing the words Dean and college in the same sentence made him feel as though he should be waiting for a punch line.
John knew his son wasn't stupid, but he was no Einstein either. From what John knew, he was halfway to flunking all of his classes and this close to getting kicked out for fighting and the like. Dean didn't talk about school other than to make a lewd joke that either got him a laugh, a smack to the back of the head, or sometimes both. Dean and college? No way. Sammy and college? That one he could've believed.
"Mr. Winchester?"
"I'm sorry, what?" John blinked and shook his head, trying to clear out his confusion. "College? And Dean?"
Now Lavely looked confused, furrowing her brow.
"Have you seen his grades?" John asked incredulously, gradually gathering his wits again.
"Have you?"
John opened his mouth to respond with a Duh, but quickly shut it again as he considered his response. He actually hadn't, not in years. When Sam came home with a report card, he practically threw it at his father, pride shining in his adolescent features. John couldn't even remember the last time Dean had mentioned a report card. "…no."
Principal Lavely leant back in her own plush chair, hands fisted over one another on top of her neat walnut desk. She pursed her lips, carefully considering her words before she spoke. "Dean is set up to be the valedictorian of his class."
John felt his jaw go slack. "He's what?"
"Dean has a 3.9 GPA and is currently tied for the valedictorian position in his senior class. At this point I believe he could get into nearly any college he wished." John could hear the unspoken but resonating around him. "There is an issue, though."
John sagged back into his chair, still trying to digest that his oldest son – brawn over brains, shoot first ask questions later, devil may care Dean – was the smartest kid in the whole damn school. "What?"
"He wants to drop out."
"What?" John felt like yet another bomb had been dropped. He had gone from picturing Dean as a classic slacker to student extraordinaire to high school drop-out in less than five minutes. He felt like his world was tilting on its axis.
"Dean came to my office this morning asking if there was any paperwork he needed to fill out in order to drop-out," Lavely said, leaning forward in her chair now. "Mr. Winchester, I really must insist that you convince Dean to graduate."
John was still fighting to form a sentence that didn't include the word 'what', his brain seemingly malfunctioning. "I'll, uh, I'll talk to him, uh, today?" The statement came out as a question.
Lavely's brown eyes narrowed behind her bifocals. "See that you do."
Leaving the school, John felt shell shocked for reasons he couldn't quite identify. He'd known Dean wasn't an idiot. He just hadn't realized how damn smart his son was. John wondered if Dean didn't want him to know; he hid his intelligence well enough. Or maybe that really was just Dean, the rock-n-roll bad ass valedictorian. The signs were there, John had just ignored them.
Dean had built countless tools from scratch – salt grenades, EMF meters. John had even seen him practically rebuild a shotgun so far gone that even Bobby had declared it useless. Dean could pick up on barely-there patterns that John sometimes missed, and – when he put his mind to it – could match even Sam in research skills.
Dean was a smart kid, but John had never imagined it extended to school as well. He could barely remember Dean working on homework. He didn't think Dean had ever showed him any of his grades. The only time school was even mentioned as pertaining to his eldest was when Dean announced he had detention.
As for college… That was a whole new beast that John had never imagined dealing with when it came to Dean. The idea of his son leaving was only barely more painful than the idea of him giving it up.
John shook his head as he climbed into the jacked-up cab of his truck. The only thing he really knew what that he and Dean needed to talk.
It felt like the clock was mocking him as John sat waiting for his sons to come home. Tick tock. Tick tock. He was on the verge of smashing the damn thing when he heard the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine.
"-atman could totally kick Spiderman's ass, Sammy," Dean's voice filtered through the thin walls as he approached the dingy apartment.
"No way! Spiderman could knock Batman flat on his ass," Sam's adolescent voice broke in several places as he and his brother fought and fumbled their way through the door.
"Dad!" Dean let Sam out of a headlock, his voice clearly surprised. "I thought you weren't coming back until next Monday."
John could've sworn he heard a trace of nervousness in Dean's tone. "Got a call from the school."
Dean blinked owlishly, and Sam just stared blankly at his father, any trace of amusement gone from his young features.
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh," John honestly didn't intend for it to come out as mocking as it had, and guilt stirred in his gut at Dean's barely-there wince. "Sam, go to your room."
Sam stepped away from his brother, chin jutting out defiantly. "No. Whatever you have to say, I-"
"Sammy." Sam stopped mid-tirade, a miracle only his brother could bring about. "Please."
Sam turned back to his brother, taking in the nervous tension just under the surface, the caged animal look in his eyes. For a moment, John thought he would refuse, but Sam nodded at something only he could see in his brother's face and walked away.
John waited to hear the slamming of a door before he began.
"So, how's school?"
Dean shrugged, carefully avoiding his father's eyes.
"Senior year. Very exciting. You're… what? A month or two away from graduating?"
Dean licked his lips, a nervous tick that only showed up around his father, but only shrugged again.
John could feel the frustration building in his chest. Since when did Dean not give him a goddamn straight answer?
"Dammit, Dean. Look at me when I'm talking to you," John seethed, knocking back the couch a bit as he jumped to his feet.
John felt like he'd been sucker-punched when Dean flinched away before meeting his father's eyes. He felt like his heart had stopped when he saw the fear in his son's eyes. Dean was afraid. Of him.
"Dean…" John softened his voice and reached out just a bit, but Dean shrunk back towards the still open door.
John didn't want to even begin to consider why his own son was afraid of him. He just wanted a straight answer. He hadn't meant for the conversation to go this far south so quickly.
"Lavely call you about this morning?" Dean's characteristic cockiness was gone from his voice, leaving it disturbingly emotionless.
"Yeah."
Dean nodded once and then stood up straighter, steeling himself. "It's my choice."
John paused, really looking at his son. Dean's face was set, and his eyes were determined. His shoulders were squared, his back straight. Despite his seemingly resolute stance and attitude, John could see the anxiety in the lines of Den's brow and the slight twist in his hips towards the door. He was one ill-thought comment away from bolting.
"Why?" John finally said, trying to keep his voice neutral.
Dean blinked, clearly not expecting his father to take the rational route. "I don't see much of a point in it anymore. I'm legally an adult, so I don't have to go anymore. School isn't going to help me do what I need to do, Dad. You know it, and I know it. It's just a waste of time at this point."
John could hear the ring of the truth in his son's candid words, and it broke his heart. Dean had been doing a lot of that lately. After the Connor house incident, John just wanted to keep his boys safe, and keeping them in school seemed to do that. Seven hours of normalcy, away from ghosts and demons and everything else that went bump in the night.
But Dean was right; school wasn't going to help Dean do what he needed to do. Hunting was all Dean had ever known, and he'd never showed any inclination to stray. He only went to school because John asked him to and CPS made him. At 18, though, Dean could walk away.
Dean could see the resignation in his father's face, and the tension seeped out of his own. "It's not a big deal, Dad. It's not like I could've gone to college anyway," Dean's self-deprecating words were meant to comfort his father, but instead they only brought back that feeling of being sucker-punched.
"Don't lie to me," John didn't mean to sound so angry when he spoke. He wasn't mad at his son; he was confused.
Dean immediately tensed back up, shuffling backwards ever so slightly. His hands curled into loose fists and he shifted onto the balls of his feet. John immediately felt the frustration drain; his son was getting ready to defend himself. From his own father.
"Dean, please," John's voice was soft now, pleading. "Just… don't lie to me."
Dean pursed his lips, holding his position. "It's my choice," he repeated. "I'm going to be a hunter for the rest of my life. You made damn sure of that."
John opened his mouth, automatically leaping to his own defense, but Dean cut him off. "I don't resent you for it, Dad. It is what it is. I am who I am. I didn't get to choose this life, Dad, but let me make this choice. Just this once."
Dean was practically begging John to just let it go, to let sleeping dogs lie, but John couldn't do it. It wasn't in his nature.
"Dean, just explain this to me. I don't understand."
Dean's eyes hardened. "I don't care if you understand, Dad. I don't give a flying fuck if you understand. You don't need to. This choice, this is mine. Everything else I have is yours. But this own time, just this once, I'm making my own goddamn decision. If you think it's wrong, then fine. But there's not a damn thing you can do about it."
And with that, Dean was gone. John stood motionless as his son walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He didn't move a muscle as he heard the engine of the Impala roar to life. He didn't so much as twitch when the rumble faded away. He couldn't.
This was Dean.
Dean, the rock-n-roll valedictorian. Dean, the high school drop-out. Dean, the badass hunter. Dean, the loyal son. Dean, the fearless soldier. Dean, who just walked away because John let him.
When Dean came back past midnight, he didn't say a word to his father. He wouldn't even look at him. When a worried Sam asked where he'd been, Dean pulled out a wad of bills and threw them on the counter with a smirk. Where do you think? He'd said. Sam frowned, but accepted his brother's answer, finally going to bed.
When it came time for school the next morning, Dean drove Sam, same as always, and for a moment John thought he wouldn't drop out after all.
But then he was home 20 minutes later, finally looking at his father. His green eyes dared John to try to fight him on this again as he asked about the next hunt. For once, John didn't rise to the challenge. For once, John just let it go.
Sometimes he'd wonder if he'd made the right choice.
A/N: The "Connor incident" is referencing "In Which a Regular Day is Anything But". Reviews are lovely and make my day!