Disclaimer: I don't own them, I'm just borrowing them for a minute.
Pairings: Eventual Dean/OFC and Sam/Jess, though not prevalent for most of the fic
Warnings: non-con and prostitution (not particularly graphic). Child abuse. Nothing too bad in this chapter, just a fair bit of Dean whump.
Spoilers: Pilot and What is and What Should Never Be
Summary: SPN pre-series AU. Dean thought his luck had been stretched as far as it was going to go when he was taken in by the Pypers, a family that only wanted him to work around the house and nothing shadier. But when the Pypers decide to kick him out, the Winchesters step in and adopt him. As Dean adjusts to a life that includes a real bed, regular food, and a lovable pain-in-the-ass brother called Sam, he begins to believe he may finally have a chance at normal. But the shadows of the past are long, what will Dean do when his past comes knocking?
Author Notes: Dean is 16 and Sam is 12. It's set in England (the link to canon is explained in the story), mainly because I first started with it set in the US but then found it practically impossible to write realistic school scenes. I had no clue what sort of marks were achievable, the teaching styles,how schools were set out, and it all started looking more like High School Musical than a realistic school setting so I decided to take Mark Twain's advice and write what I know.
Also, I've had to screw around with the timeline so it's set in the present day but the boys are 16 and 12.
It may annoy some readers at first to see two OCs with the surname Winchester, but their link back to canon will also be explained. I hope you like the OCs, I've tried to make them work for their screen time.
There has been another canon alteration, though minor this time. A silver knife is enough to kill a djinn, no lamb's blood is needed. It was pretty unrealistic to imagine a sixteen year old and a twelve year old finding lamb's blood merely hours after finding out the supernatural exists.
I have a fair bit of this written and plan to update every week or so.
Michael Winchester looked once again at his watch and decided that forty minutes was an acceptable amount of time to wait before going to get yet another drink.
With a forced smile that hid the stiffening of his unfortunately ageing limbs, he excused himself to refill his glass of orange juice. It turned out Lucas Pyper was even more boring at home than he was at work. Unfortunately, his boss's wife was no better, and Michael spotted Jane surreptitiously pinching herself a couple of times to stay awake.
As he unscrewed the cap and started to pour out the juice into the crystal glassware, Michael couldn't resist a small smile at the memory of his wife discreetly checking the living room clock as often as she could and trying to hide a yawn beneath a wide, open-mouthed, grin. They were both running a little low on sleep as Sam had had a nightmare about clowns after going out for a birthday meal at McDonalds the day before. Jane had shushed him and let him sleep next to her for the night, promising the little lad that they'd never go to the blasted fast food chain again.
There came a loud thud and a quiet 'fuck' from behind the utility room door.
That was odd. All the adults were in the living room and Sam was outside, playing with the Pyper children.
But there was definitely someone there. There was a squeak from the depression of metal springs and then silence. Michael set down the carton and went to the door.
He didn't know what he'd expected, but he certainly hadn't expected this.
Inside, on an old sofa, was a thin kid who couldn't be any older than sixteen. He had been looking down, his short, dirty blond hair barely hiding the purple lump protruding from his forehead, trying to stem the flow of blood dripping from where the metal spring sticking out of one of the cushions had torn his leg open. But the moment Michael walked in the room, his head jerked up to reveal a stoic face but bright, terrified, green eyes.
"Wh-what are you doing here?" asked Michael, at a loss for words.
The boy shook his head and pulled his knees up to his chest, sitting hunched up on the undamaged side of the couch. Now he was looking up, Michael could see five fading marks on the kid's right cheek. He was clearly not one of the Pyper kids, Lucas only ever mentioned two, so he must have sneaked in somehow.
"Who are you?" The question came out harsher than he intended it to.
The boy's back instinctively straightened, despite the slight wince, and he replied, "Dean, sir." The voice sounded gruff from disuse.
Michael moved in and sat on the arm of the couch, trying to ignore the way those wary eyes followed his every move.
"Okay, what are you doing here?" he tried again.
No answer. Just a defiant jaw and scared eyes. Michael locked his eyes onto the kid's and watched with more than just a little guilt as the jaw slackened and the kid swallowed, terror taking over and making him forfeit their little staring contest.
"What's your full name? Dean what?"
The kid, Dean, shrugged. "Just Dean, sir."
"C'mon, you've got to have a last name!" The kid shrugged again. "And you don't have to call me sir, I'm Michael."
He extended his hand with a large smile, but all Dean did was back away and his face twitched as he tried to suppress a flinch. Michael retracted his hand, the smile having turned into a grimace. He palmed the back of his neck, dreading to ask the question once again. "What are you doing here, Dean?"
The kid looked around the room, scanning the whitewashed walls, piles of old books and sheets of paper and the wrecked schoolbag in the corner. His eyes dropped and resignation washed over his face. "I live here."
Right. Okay. What?
"What do you mean? I thought Muriel and Lucas only had two kids?"
Dean let out a hitched breath as his head bobbed. Michael guessed it was supposed to be a chuckle of some sort. "Yeah."
Michael was about to continue enquiring but he could hear Lucas's voice coming from the kitchen. "Are you trying to make orange juice from scratch or something? Michael?"
"In here," called Michael.
Lucas came and stood in the doorway, a sturdy man with a confident gait, the only signs revealing his age being his slight paunch and early balding. Michael hoped his colleague would be able to explain what Dean meant by 'I live here' but as he watched the look passing between man and boy, he felt doubt creep into his mind.
Dean, as before, broke first and mumbled an apology down at the floor, before looking up again. "I-I swear, I didn't get him to come in here. He came in by himself!"
Lucas turned away from the kid and looked towards him, scaring Michael with how easily he could manipulate a glare into a smile.
"Michael, why don't we leave little Deano here and return to the living room?" Then, colder, he said to Dean, "I'll talk to you later."
Michael's boss then walked out of the room, leaving Michael with no option but to follow.
Why is he here?
How did he get those bruises?
Why does he constantly look so damn terrified?
Once they were back in the absurdly clean living room, sat on some rather lovely velvet cushions, Lucas leaned back and smiled.
"Sorry about him back there, he's a bit," he whistled two notes, the second being lower in pitch than the first, "mentally disturbed, as they say. Autism or something like that, always getting into fights."
Michael stayed quiet, letting Lucas feel the need to fill the silence.
"You saw the lump," continued Lucas, "on his head? From a really nasty row with Max yesterday. Kid hurts himself more than anything else really, our Max would never hurt someone like, you know, him."
"Of course." Michael looked back down at his drink. He was overthinking things, seeing what wasn't there. He swirled the glass and watched one ice cube chase another. "Is he your kid?"
Lucas started laughing, though at what, Michael had no idea. "Christ, no! He's adopted, we took him in two years ago. The boy had a brute of a father, we thought to give him a second chance."
See. His boss was a good guy really, it was just him being paranoid. But it was harder to lie to himself than it was to others.
That room had looked way too much like a bedroom. But who the heck keeps a kid in the utility room?
"Why doesn't he join the other kids outside?" He hadn't meant to ask that, but the part of him that kept wanting to check the kitchen door every few seconds had apparently taken over.
"He doesn't like company, kind of likes to spend his time alone." His boss paused and gave Michael an oddly calculating look, before continuing. "Of course, I'll suggest it to him, he could do with getting out and about a little." Mr Pyper stood up and went back into the kitchen.
Michael guessed he was expected to stay seated but he couldn't help but follow a few steps behind as Lucas went through the kitchen and stormed into the utility closet.
He stopped when he heard the terrified yelp and the thud of knees hitting the floor. Taking a few steps forward, he saw Dean trembling, head stooped, as he knelt next to the sofa and fumbled for the hem of his shirt, his fingers getting caught in a rip near the bottom.
"You made him come in here, didn't you?" Lucas hissed, "Get up and get outside."
The boy stood quickly and both of them turned to face Michael.
"Ah, I hadn't realised you'd followed me," said Michael, all flowers and rainbows once again, before turning to Dean, "go on, go join the others outside."
Michael waited until Dean was out of the kitchen door before turning to Lucas. "What's going on? It's pretty chilly outside and you just sent the kid out without a jacket."
"It's not like he'd have listened to me if I'd suggested it." Lucas let out an exasperated sigh, "You have no idea how difficult he is to handle."
Through the kitchen window he could see the kid clutching at his upper torso in a futile attempt to ward off the cold. Turning back, he stared pointedly at Michael.
"Really, he doesn't listen to anything we say, he fights constantly with the kids, and even Muriel." Lucas leaned against the kitchen countertop, the very picture of exhaustion. "Sometimes I wonder why we even took him in. We should have known that the apple never falls far from the tree."
Michael was a banker, a man of numbers. It was really starting to bother him that none of this was adding up. His boss, while a manipulative offspring of a female dog, had always seemed so fond of his children, especially his daughter, Kate. And to be fair, Dean hadn't hit him as the most social of teenagers, so maybe he really was the problem child of the family.
That still didn't explain why, in the house of a banker and a councillor, there was a child that looked like he hadn't had a decent meal in a few weeks, that had a ripped shirt and trousers that were too big for him, that felt the need to kneel when his father came in the room.
"All kids have their ups and downs, Lucas," said Michael, "And Dean doesn't seem like all that bad a kid."
"The thing's violent, lazy, and stupid to boot," Lucas let out another dramatic sigh and hung his head. "I've really been considering kicking him out, you know, to protect my family."
Michael spluttered a mouthful of orange juice onto his boss.
And there goes my next promotion. Oh look, it's waving goodbye.
"But- but that's a kid! You can't just abandon him like that, no matter how bad he is!"
Lucas raised his eyes and his eyebrows together and fixed him with his steely glare. "Are you proposing to tell me what I can and cannot do, Winchester?"
No.
Say no.
Goddammit, your job's at stake here, say no and just leave!
"No-"
Good.
"Yes."
Damn.
Lucas put the glass down and spoke, his voice frighteningly cold, "He broke one of the last things that Muriel still has from her mother. He picked it up and he smashed it, right there, on those tiles. He felt no remorse for that. No, he stood there and laughed as my wife cried. So are you really going to tell me I can't kick him out if it damn well pleases me?"
"Look, I- you-" he stammered. "I'm not trying to argue with you, but please don't do that. Look, we'll look after him, just don't throw him out like that."
"You think you can handle him?" Lucas sneered.
"I don't know, but we can try."
Crap, you haven't even spoken to Jane about this. What are you doing?
Just as Michael was about to retract his offer, Lucas spoke. "You know what? Take him. I just want him out and if you want to take him, be my guest."
And that was it. There was no way Michael could back out without spending the rest of his life wondering whether his boss did good on his plans to kick out the kid with the sad, green eyes. Hence, selfish as ever, Michael nodded.
Besides, Dean couldn't really be all that bad, could he?
Oh God, I hope not.
