Yay! It's here! I decided to post this early, because it was a clear winner among all who voted. If you did vote for this story, I hope it lives up to your expectations. If you voted for another story, I'm sorry I couldn't write it this time, but I'll need one to write after this one. : ) If you didn't vote at all, I hope you like this story anyway. Enjoy!
Just FYI:
Dean - 18
Sam - 14
Chapter One - Homecoming
Sam stared out of the car window, his forehead pressed against the cool glass. He watched as the houses sped by, the maze of sidewalks and yards blurring into a hazy mess.
Sam shifted in his seat, his arms growing tired from their awkward position. His wrists were bound by handcuffs, which in turn were fastened to the chair in front of him. He sat in the backseat of an SUV, while his social worker, Mr. Pearson, drove in front.
Sam glanced up at the man, feeling hot animosity growing in his chest as he looked at him. As if he could feel Sam gazing at him, Mr. Pearson glanced into the rearview mirror, catching Sam's eyes for a split second. Sam darted his eyes away, watching the outside landscape again.
"Problem, Sam?" Mr. Pearson asked. He spoke in a voice laced with false sympathy. Sam knew his concern was fake. Everything about the man was fake. He was practically a robot, only worried about his job, and keeping Sam in line. Which hadn't worked so far.
Sam stayed silent, not wanting to incite another verbal beatdown. He'd had enough of those while driving away from the Bensen's house. And away from the Freemont's house. And the Emile's house. And the Denellis' house.
In total, Sam had spent his life in a grand total of seven different Care homes. Nobody seemed to want him. He wasn't an easy charge. He didn't listen. Didn't even try.
"Sam, this might be your last chance." Mr. Pearson warned. "After this, you'll have to go to a camp. No one wants to take in a psychic who's been through eight homes." No one really wants a psychic at all. The words were unspoken, but Sam could hear them as easily as verbalized words.
He wasn't telepathic. Though he had met another like himself who'd had that specific talent. No, he'd just heard the words before. People didn't want psychics. They didn't want the responsibility of watching over them. They only wanted the money.
Sam didn't take Mr. Pearson's words too seriously. He'd heard the speech before. It was just in an effort to make him behave, for once. But it wasn't going to work. It never had before.
"Are they here yet?" Mary asked anxiously. She looked over at the digital clock on her fireplace mantel. They were scheduled to be there twenty minutes before.
John crossed the room and wrapped his arms around his wife. "Stop worrying, Mary." He murmured. "Everything will be fine." Gently, he placed a kiss on her lips.
"Gross," Dean muttered as he entered the room, holding his car keys. "If I wanted to be scarred for life, I'd enter a dogfight." He grabbed his leather jacket and moved towards the door.
Mary rushed over to stand in front of him. She stopped him, placing a hand firmly on his chest. "Hold it, Dean. You agreed to be here when Sam arrived."
Dean sighed. "Mom, I know this is a big deal for you, but that doesn't mean that I have to pretend to be all excited that we have to be this stupid kids bodyguard until he gets shipped off to some prison camp." Dean said bitterly. "I just want to be left out of it."
Mary's shoulders relaxed, her small form sagging. "Dean, this is about finding Sam a home. Not about guarding him."
"That's what the stupid brochure said." Dean mumbled. "Psychics are an extreme danger to the public, and should be guarded as such." He quoted.
John, silent up until this point, walked over to join his wife.
"Son, listen to your mother." John ordered. "We're not in this for the money, we're in this to help the boy."
"Please, Dean. Stay here. It might be nice for him to see someone around his age." Mary reasoned. She gazed intently into her son's eyes, recognizing the beginnings of resignation in them.
Dean took a step back, avoiding his parent's eyes. "How old is this kid, anyway?" Dean asked evasively, to stall for time.
"He's fourteen." John informed. Dean snorted in response.
"And what? You think he's going to automatically trust me because I'm not as old as you?" Dean snapped.
"Dean." Mary said in a warning voice.
Dean sighed, and ran a hand over his head. "Fine. Fine, I'll stay." He tossed his keys into the bowl by the door, and quickly hung up his jacket. He stalked over to the family room, plunking down on one of the couches. He looked to the side, away from his parents.
Mary sighed as she watched her son. He didn't like this idea. Not because he didn't like psychics. More because he didn't like how they were treated.
Dean might be tough, but he has a soft side. Mary thought with a smile.
"Mary," John called from across the room. Mary quickly turned towards her husband, hope shining on her face. John grinned at her expression.
"They're here." John said.
Mary gasped and rushed to the door, opening it hurriedly. She peered out and saw a man step out of a black SUV parked in their driveway. He looked clean. Crisp. He looked like the kind of person that should be a bank accountant, not a social worker for a psychic.
Mary stepped out of the house. One quick glance over her shoulder her assured her that her husband was close behind, and Dean was sneakily looking out of the window at the new arrivals.
The man crossed to the other side of the car, and opened the backseat door. He reached in, fiddling with something, before finally pulling back. He took a step back, making some room for the boy to jump out. Mary waited patiently by the door, wanting to sprint over to the pair, but knowing that would be unprofessional.
When the boy stepped down from the car, the man wrapped an arm over his shoulders. He started herding the boy towards Mary and John, leaning down slightly to whisper something to the child. Mary saw the boy duck his head, as if ashamed. Or frightened. Her heart sang with empathy for the boy, and she found herself yearning to hold him, to comfort him.
As the two approached, the man nodded graciously in greeting. He held out his hand when they got closer.
"Ma'am, my name is Jeffrey Pearson." He introduced himself. He clapped the boy's shoulder, inciting a small flinch. "This is Sam."
Mary smiled kindly at Sam, but received nothing in return.
"You must be Mrs. Winchester." Mr. Pearson guessed with a charming smile.
"Please, call me Mary." She insisted.
A faint barking became heard, and Sam's head snapped up, looking around for the source. Mary noticed the fear and apprehension, but she also saw a spark of eagerness, and curiosity.
Dean's dog, Bones, came rushing out the house, barking crazily. The great golden retriever rushed straight at Sam. As Bones neared, Mary reached out her hand, and managed to snag his collar, stopping him short from tackling the young boy.
Sam's eyes were wide, but the fear was mostly gone. Now he looked hopeful, and slightly awed.
Mary hung onto Bone's collar, as John stepped forward to hold onto him. "I'm so sorry." She apologized. "My son's dog."
John took hold of Bone's collar, and turned back towards the house. "Dean!" He shouted. Mary saw Sam flinch. She offered him an encouraging smile, one that wasn't returned.
Dean appeared, looking sheepish. "Sorry," He mumbled. He grabbed onto the dogs collar, and started to drag him back to the house.
Mary looked back down at Sam. His eyes were back on the ground, but she could see a very faint smile on his lips.
Sam stared at the ground. He could still hear the dog barking, though it had quieted down some. Mr. Pearson exchanged some more trivial words with Mary, and kept up a light, kind tone throughout it.
Sam's heart felt bitter. Sure, play nice. He thought. God forbid anyone find out what a son of a cow you really are.
He didn't know what to think about this woman, this woman that didn't look at him in disgust, or fear, or hatred. Not even pity, which Sam had also experienced on multiple occasions. No, she looked at him with a sort of kindness. It unnerved him.
"Well," Mary said. "Would you like to come inside?" She gestured back towards the house, where Dean was towing his dog up the steps to the porch.
"Of course." Mr. Pearson said with a grin. His hand on Sam's shoulder tightened for a moment; a warning. Behave.
Mr. Pearson kept his hand on Sam's shoulder as they entered the Winchester's house. Sam looked around disinterestedly. He doubted he would be here long. The longest he had ever been in a Care home was about two or three months. This home would be no different.
"Dean, why don't you take Sam into the kitchen?" Mary suggested kindly. Dean, still hanging onto the collar of his dog, looked alarmed for a second. The message was clear to Sam.
You want me to be alone with that thing?
His face burned, and he felt that the tag around his neck was screaming out at everyone in the room. He had never been proud of what he was, and now was no different. Once again, Sam felt the want to be normal. Not hated. Not feared. Not pitied. Normal.
"Son." John said in a slow voice. He sounded annoyed, and Dean could hear it, too. He straightened, turning to Sam, and attempted a smile. He started pulling his dog out of the room, and Sam looked uncertainly up at Mr. Pearson.
Mr. Pearson gave Sam a little shove. "Go on," He muttered, irritated. He flashed a reassuring smile to Mary and John, and pushed Sam forward again. "Go, now." He ordered stiffly.
Sam could tell that Mr. Pearson was hoping that he wouldn't get stubborn. Sam considered it. But it wasn't worth it. Not right now. He walked quickly past Mary and John, following Dean.
Dean was standing next to the counter, filling up the dog's bowl. The dog started devouring the food, eating huge bites at once.
"Pig," Dean muttered, cracking a smile.
Sam stared at the dog. "What's his name?" He asked quietly.
Dean looked up at him, seemingly shocked that Sam had spoken. "Um, Bones."
Internally, Sam smiled. Bones. Cute name for a dog. On the outside, he showed no emotion. He'd learned a long time ago that people didn't care if he was happy, or amused. Just as long as he was under control.
Dean sighed. "So, you want something to eat?" He asked it as if he didn't really care, just wanted to be polite. Sam shook his head, watching as Bones finished up his food.
Dean shrugged, and opened the cabinet. He grabbed a bag of chips, and started munching.
Sam held out his hand to Bones, and gently, the dog nosed his palm. Sam's mouth turned in a small grin. He lightly patted Bones's head, and his tail wagged.
Suddenly, Bones turned away from Sam when he heard the fridge door open. Bones's tail started wagging with enthusiasm, and he panted. Dean looked up at Sam, holding a bag of carrots. Sam furrowed his brow in confusion, and Dean grinned.
"Watch." He ordered. Dean dug a carrot out of the bag, holding it out towards Bones. The dog stared, almost drooling. Lightly, Dean set the food on top of the dog's nose.
Sam's eyes widened. Bones stayed still, going cross eyed as he tried to keep the treat in view.
"Wait." Dean said, and Sam wasn't sure who he was ordering. Him, or the dog. Or both.
Sam edged a little closer. The dog slowly inched it's nose up.
Dean caught Sam's eye. He smiled at the awed expression on Sam's face.
"Okay," Dean said firmly. Bones snapped up his nose, snatching the treat out of the air.
"How did you do that?" Sam asked in a murmur. He wasn't really expecting an answer.
"Lots of training." Dean answered. He looked over at Sam uncertainly. "You wanna try?" He asked.
Sam made eye contact with Dean for a moment. He shrugged, looking back at the floor. "Sure." He finally answered. "How do you do it?"
Dean smiled genuinely. "I'll show you."
How do you like it? Thumbs up? Hopefully not thumbs down…
I was planning to have a lot more in this chapter, but I kind of like this chapter size. What do you think? Longer chapters = longer wait for update. Shorter chapters = shorter wait.
Considering how much I am loving this story, I'll probably have the next chapter up by...Wednesday? Fingers crossed!
P.S. - How in the world do you use Line Breaks? If you know what I'm talking about, PM me to let me know, or tell me about someone who does. I would really appreciate it. Thanks. : )