"I'm going to bed before either of you come up with another clever plan to get us killed-or worse expelled."
-Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by JK Rowling
"He's touching me!" came the shriek from the backseat.
Dean narrowly saved his kid from being smote by the angry archangel. And only through the judicious application of force applied to breaks and his world famous 'Mom-Arm.' Whether Castiel actually needed to breathe or not, he was subject to basic inertia.
Pinning Castiel in the passenger seat, Dean craned his neck to check on the occupants of the backseat. As he suspected, there were no . . . shenanigans . . . going on.
Ben poking Claire in the center of her forehead was pretty innocent. Sort of.
"Ben," Dean issued through his teeth. "Do not provoke—"
His words of wisdom came too late, as Claire slapped the younger boy upside the back of his head. Ben snapped forward with a pained yowl.
"Claire, no hitting," Dean sighed. "Violence is not the answer."
Claire cast a disbelieving look in Dean's direction, fixing him with the same eerily blue eyes as Castiel. Wordlessly, she tugged her coat aside to display the knife tucked in her belt.
Sighing, Dean amended his parental-cliché. "Violence is not the answer unless dealing with evil. And," he continued before they could get a word in, "Ben does not count as evil." Giving a pointed look to Ben, he finished with, "And neither does Claire."
"Why does she get the weapon?" Ben whined. "She already hits like a truck." Ben promptly folded in half, just narrowly missing a repeat slap. "Like I said—angry girls have super strength. I should get the knife."
Dean tightened his fingers on the steering wheel. Castiel was now observing quietly, and Dean should actually start moving, non-existent traffic or not. Since the guardian angel was obviously not going to be of any help, Dean closed his eyes and began counting backward from ten.
"No knife, Ben," he managed tightly.
"But what if we get attacked and you guys are busy and Claire gets eighty-sixed by the Creature from the Black Lagoon . . ."
The kid honestly doesn't have a self-preserving bone in his body. Castiel was stiffer than his usual stone. "Claire will not be . . . eighty-sixed by anything, Benjamin Braden," the angel intoned sharply. "I will not allow it."
"But just saying she did," Ben persisted. "She's down and I still don't have a knife," Ben whined.
"No knife, Ben!" Dean took a deep breath, and pulled into the library parking lot. Sam started down the steps toward them, got a look at Dean, and changed his mind. Dean couldn't blame him, but, oh, how he wanted to. "Cas?"
The angel blinked out of the car, reappearing next to Sam in broad daylight regardless of potential eye-witnesses. While Sam and Castiel argued, Dean turned around to fix both kids with his fiercest scowl. "One more word . . . one more word . . . and I'll let Sam pick the music."
That got the immediate silence that Dean had hoped for. Probably wouldn't achieve perfect obedience, but at least Dean wouldn't have to listen to them try killing each other.
"Ben, stop baiting Claire. Claire, stop trying to sic Castiel on Ben."
Two reluctant nods later, and Dean slowly turned back in his seat as Sam climbed into the car hesitantly.
"Um, Cas decided to meet us there," Sam whispered, obviously afraid of disturbing Dean's newfound inner zen (Lisa's responsible for the counting and the meditation and all sorts of other healthy coping mechanisms that Dean's developed in the last few months from living in the Braden household).
"Cas is a coward," Dean replied calmly. He saw Claire shift forward abruptly, before she changed her mind and settled back into the upholstery. "Never again, Sam. I don't care how good the sales are next year. We are never watching both of them simultaneously again."
Sam nodded, and kept his mouth shut, rather than point out the obvious flaw in Dean's plan.
The flaw? Lisa and Amelia are scary, beautiful, strong, empowered women.
Team Freewill will do this again. And again. And again.
They have no choice.