John always hoped for a boy and sometimes he wonders whether that's got something to do with it.
It doesn't mean that he didn't want a girl. When Mary gets home from the clinic and shows him the smudgy ultrasonic picture for the first time, his head is spinning because this is nothing short of a wonder. "That's my girl. My girl. My baby child," he keeps thinking. Gender is the last thing on his mind.
On the day that Deanna is born, this sense of wonder turns into love so big it makes his heart ache. He still remembers that one night when he rocked her to sleep in his arms, a fragile bundle with a crinkled nose making soft baby noises. The world was at peace then, him and Mary and their sweet little girl.
It's one of the very few memories that are distinctly of a child named Deanna.
Four years later, everyone calls her Dee and she throws a fit over having to wear a dress to Sammy's baptism. Any compliment on how pretty she looks gets rewarded with a death glare until John has to take her aside after the ceremony and set her head straight again.
He's not sure who came up with "Dee" and why it stuck. Since Mary mostly called her sweetheart or honey – and sometimes stinker – it was probably himself, and looking back he's not so sure that's merely a coincidence. They never called her Deanna then, and soon don't even think of her as Deanna. Sam, apparently completely unaware that Dee is not her real name, laughs for ten minutes straight when he finds out years later.
Dee is a good kid, though, helps her Mummy and does as she's told and on Sundays John plays football with her in front of the house.
Every so often they visit Tony, an old marine buddy of John's who lives two towns over. Tony's got two girls, Janice and Annie, one year older and one year younger than Dee respectively. Full of excitement, they grab John by the arm every time and show him their toys, stuffed animals and pretty dolls with golden curls sitting around a table, drinking tea from tiny cups, and although John tries, he's just out of his depth with those two. In the meantime, Dee sits shyly at Mary's side, watching with big eyes and looking just as lost as John feels.
They lose contact with Tony and his family after... After they leave Lawrence.
Dee takes care of Sammy then, and there is nothing cute or playful about a four-year old holding a baby in their arms to feed and shush it. John feels guilty about that. Late at night, he laments into the bottle and in the mornings Dee feeds and changes Sammy again because John can't get up. He's sorry about that, too.
But Dee is a good kid. Always trying, always doing her best. The "Yes Sir" she's got down when she's eight years old would make any marine instructor proud. And that's the whole point right there: Dee tries so hard. There's not a shadow in John's expression she won't notice and she'll do whatever it takes to make it go away. A kid as bright as that would pick up anything, right?
Once Dee hits puberty she drives it up another notch, cuts off the hair that short in the first place and god knows where she picks up her walk, knees turned out, full macho gait. There is not a hint of femininity to her, not in her gestures nor her speech nor her attitude. On the other hand, being pretty and soft is just something that doesn't go with their line of work. There have been gun calluses on Dee's hands for five years by then, and her wardrobe consists of layered shirts, jeans and heavy boots simply because it's practical. You don't outrun demons in frilly skirts and high heels.
And then the waiter at some random diner asks, "And what can I get for you, Sir?" Polite, quick, with a wink because Dee's young, but not ironic. An honest mistake, John thought initially. Looking back, that doesn't quite hit the point though, does it? Because Dee walks around three inches taller for an entire week, and that clears the last doubts on whether or not something was mistaken there.
Still, John doesn't get it. He's vaguely aware that something is going on, something that "tomboy" doesn't seem to accurately describe anymore. As long as Dee doesn't neglect her job of taking care of Sammy though, he's got more important things to worry about.
Dee is 15 when it becomes a problem. A school in Tennessee tries to give them shit. The headmistress calls John up although he made it clear that he was going to be out for a week, not needing distraction while he was hunting down the damn Black Dog that's been escaping him for months. She ignores the order and calls and then she goes on and on about how they worry about Deanna and her behavior and and the influence she has on the kids in school and has he considered letting her see a psychologist, for the best of herself and the family?
If there's one thing John can't stand it's people trying to lecture him on the what's best for his family. The Black Dog gets away once more and not even Sammy scowls when they move that time. There are bruises on Dee's knuckles with corresponding marks on the face of a guy twice as big. There is also a sad-looking girl watching the Impala leave, and John admits that he probably wouldn't have noticed had it not been for the tirades the headmistress was flinging at his head while he picked the kids up.
So it's girls then. Okay. Not really a surprise. At least he doesn't need to worry about any accidents, John tells himself and knows very well that it's just a bad excuse to avoid that talk with Dee. Truth is he just wouldn't know what to say. Use a condom? Seems kind of redundant.
Wherever they stop, Dee never needs more than a day to sweet-talk a girl into keeping her company. She wears her masculinity just like she does with her shit-eating grin and her bravery that she keeps mistaking for a bullet-proof vest. John Wayne's got nothing on her and sometimes John wonders how many of Dee's acquaintances honestly fall for the show. Apparently in those few years when the boys haven't grown into men yet, putting on a show is all it takes.
There's the girl with bright ginger curls in Alabama that definitely buys it. Unfortunately John asks Sammy where his big sister is, not realizing Dee's right there trading secret kisses behind the car. The girl puts two and two together, then turns on her heels and runs. John tries to cheer Dee up, says they were about to move on anyway, so nobody's lost out on much, but Dee doesn't talk for a day and goes a little wild with the shooting during the next hunt.
A week later, she's cleaning John's guns when very quietly she asks to switch pronouns. He first thinks he misheard and then he asks "pronouns?" like he's got no idea what that even is. Dee's hands are shaking and her eyes are firmly fixed on the guns as she explains and John- may the devil rip him a new one because he laughs. Not out of spite or in order to ridicule. He's just.. It just happens.
So John's got two sons then. He mulls that over and looks at Dee. "My son," he thinks. That's still Dee, still the same good and responsible kid he's always had. "Sam's brother," John thinks. "He." It's not much of a stretch and a whole new world all the same time.
The guns Dee puts on the table are shiny as new. "Please," he says.
Sam picks it up like it's the most natural thing in the world, but John struggles. How to think of Dee, what words to use, what boxes to tick, John hasn't got a clue. Dee slips out of the language he knows. The world doesn't bend right around them.
So the driver's license John organizes – no point sending the kid to school for something he's already better at than any teacher – still reads Deanna Winchester, female. The officer who stops them can't see that and thinks he needs to take a closer look and well, they're not coming back to Utah for a while after that.
A couple of months later, John takes Dee on a hunt for a serial killer's spirit. The grave is located somewhere in the woods and the hunt consists of hiking for the most part. The ending gets hectic, though. While John is trying to set the rain-wet bones on fire, he sees Dee fighting across the clearing until suddenly he goes down.
He's taken blows to the ribcage without so much as a twitch before, but this time he's still out when John's next to him, pale and unmoving and there's dark blood too. John lifts the shirt searching for the injury and finds a bandage tightly wrapped around the ribcage instead. Worried, he takes it off. Dee's eyes flutter open immediately. He sucks in a breath and coughs – and then scrambles backwards on hands and knees, turning away in hurt and embarrassment.
John loves his kids so much his chest feels too small for his heart. He's not a good father, he knows that. He doesn't understand what's going on in Dee's head and he's shit at asking. But seeing Dee like that, putting this kind of humiliation on him, his heart takes a leap.
They talk after that. Not much and it's as awkward as it gets, but they talk.
Through five contacts, John finds a doctor he trusts enough to perform the chest surgery once Dee turns 18. Another three favors get them access to testosterone. There's the possibility of genital surgery too, but after long consideration Dee decides he'd rather keep his privates intact. John wouldn't trust anyone with a knife down there either.
The pronouns still make John stumble and he's sorry and swears to do better every time he sees Dee flinch. Sam glowers at him, but that doesn't take much these days.
He still can't entirely wrap his head around what happened there and why. It's no use wondering and he tries not to, and it's definitely no use worrying because there's no need. Instead, he watches with astonishment as his kid grows into a man, broad around the shoulders and wearing the first stubbles on his chin with incomparable pride.
The next driver's license is issued for Dean Winchester, male.
