Hope you enjoyed the previous chapter. I'm so glad that there are people following the story. : )

Chapter 2 - Catch

Sam cracked a smile as Bones launched another carrot off of his nose. This time, though, he overshot, and the produce went skidding over the tile. Bones scrambled after it, leaving Sam and Dean laughing at the ridiculous display. Bones slurped up the carrot, and ran back to the boys, his tail swinging back and forth.

"Is he always this crazy?" Sam asked while ruffling the dog's fur.

"No." Dean said with a half smile. "Only when someone that he likes visits."

Sam's smile widened and he leaned down further to rile Bones up. "Do you like me, boy? Huh?" He joked, lightly scratching his ears. In response, Bones leaned against Sam's legs, causing him to slip.

Sam caught himself with his hands, and ended up laughing while Bones licked his face dry.

Dean regarded the young psychic carefully. He wasn't what Dean had expected. He was...well, normal. He hadn't done anything out of the ordinary at all. In fact, if he hadn't been wearing that...collar...Dean would never had suspected that he was what he was. A psychic.


"Here is Sam's personal file." Mr. Pearson said, handing over a thick folder.

Mary took it, and opened the top. The first page was a headshot of Sam, along with some personal information. Mary skimmed some of it.

"Precognition?" She read. She looked up at Mr. Pearson.

"Limited." He clarified. "Sam is prone to psychic visions, and occasional outbursts of telekinesis. All of that information is on page six."

He looked to John. "I assume you are the hunter?"

John nodded. "Yes."

"And you both understand the responsibilities and risks of becoming a Care home for a psychic?" Mr. Pearson asked.

"Yes, we do." Mary said clearly.

"I should warn you," Mr. Pearson said as he gathered his things. "Sam is not an easy charge. Should he give you any trouble, I would urge you to punish him harshly and without reserve."

Mary felt a mix of fear and anger heat up her chest. Had this man urged Sam's other Carers to punish him "harshly and without reserve"?

"I'm sure we'll be able to control him." John stated calmly. One glance in his direction told Mary that John was furious. The slight way he had shifted his stance into one more defensive, the way his eyes were ever so slightly narrowed, his hands set. All things that Mary had learned to mean that her husband was very, very mad.

"I should hope so." Mr. Pearson said cheerfully. "But don't despair if you are unable to keep him in line. Others were unsuccessful, no matter the extent they went to."

Mary's blood ran cold. When Sam had walked up to the house, he had been wearing long pants and a jacket. What injuries could he be bearing underneath his clothes?

"And, just between us," Mr. Pearson leaned in conspiratorially, as if sharing a secret. "If you thought it necessary to take it to physical levels, I would be able to keep the information away from the higher ups." He suggested.

Mary saw her husbands fists clench, and she herself had to restrain herself from hurting the cruel man standing in front of her.

"You need to leave. Now." Mary ordered, making her voice as cold as ice. Mr. Pearson looked at her in shock, as if expecting them to jump at the chance to physically hurt Sam.

"But-" He protested, confused.

"Now, Mr. Pearson." John stated, taking a threatening step forward. "You should know we will be contacting your superiors."

Mr. Pearson sneered. "Go ahead. They won't care about a harsh comment made about a psychic. Nobody cares about psychics. Nobody cares about Sam."

Mary stepped forward, next to her husband. "We do." She stated firmly, planting her feet and wrapping an arm around John. "We care about Sam."


"Go ahead. I'm ready." Dean said seriously. He bent his knees slightly, taking the catcher's stance. He widened his mouth, and nodded. "Gah He!" He repeated, his words distorted.

Sam held up a hand, aiming carefully. He swung his hand back slightly, and then released the Goldfish cracker into the air. It flew in a perfect arc, straight into Dean's mouth.

Dean chewed once, holding up a finger, and then swallowed. "Awesome!" He exclaimed. "You're a great shot." He leaned against the counter, grabbing a handful of crackers and popping two into his mouth.

"How come you never went out for the basketball team? God knows your tall enough." Dean commented, looking Sam up and down.

Sam went red. Wordlessly, he fingered the small tag attached to a cord fastened to his neck. His psychic tag.

"Oh," Dean said awkwardly. "Right." He stayed quiet for a minute, processing the information.

"Sam." A cold voice spoke behind him.

Sam jumped, and spun around, freezing when he saw Mr. Pearson standing so close.

"I'm leaving now, Sam." Mr. Pearson said. "Are you going to behave yourself?"

Sam didn't answer, feeling like a small mouse edging it's way past a large, hungry snake.

"I said," Mr. Pearson repeated. "Are you going to behave yourself?" He reached out, and took hold of Sam's shoulder, clenching his fingers.

Sam cried out, and jerked backwards, trying to escape Mr. Pearsons death grip.

Dean lurched forward, as John and Mary entered the room. They took in the scene quickly. Dean shoved himself between Mr. Pearson and Sam, protectively guarding him. With a yell, he shoved the social worker back, efectively breaking his grip. John grabbed the man, and dragged him to the front door, nearly throwing him out.

"If you aren't off my property in ten seconds, I'm calling the cops." John threatened. "You'll be out of a job my this time tomorrow!"

Mr. Pearson straightened, and brushed off his jacket, glaring at John. "You will regret this. I can promise you that."

In response, John slammed the door shut. He took a calming breath, and made his way back to the kitchen. Bones was pacing around the room, looking worried. Mary was fussing, ranting about improper conduct, and phone calls she was going to make.

"When I get a hold of his superiors," She trailed off, storming off to find a phone.

John looked down at Sam, who's face was beet red. John also noticed a distinctive quiver in his fingers, which hung by his side limply. Sam stared at the tile. He seemed uncomfortable. No, he looked fearful. John leaned down on one knee. He ducked slightly to get a good look at Sam's face.

"You alright, Sam?" John asked gently.

Sam glanced up, confused. This was normally when his Carers would yell, or send him up to his room. Or worse. They were never concerned. Not for him. Haltingly, he nodded.

John nodded in response. "Good." John straightened up and looked at Dean. "Why don't you boys go outside. Get some fresh air."

"Sure, Dad." Dean said, looking relieved. "That's a good idea."

Dean patted Sam's shoulder as he passed, indicating that he should follow. Sam trailed after the older boy. Bones trotted along at his heels, panting happily.

Dean opened the back door into their garage. He raised the garage door, grabbing two baseball gloves and a baseball. Dean made his way out to the front yard, shielding his eyes against the sun. Sam followed, jogging lightly.

Dean tossed a baseball glove to Sam. Sam caught it instinctively, looking up at Dean in confusion.

"You ever played catch before?" Dean asked. Sam went red again, and shook his head, embarrased. Dean smiled good-naturedly.

"Well, then, this should be educational." He said, and tossed the ball over to Sam.

Sam reached out his non-gloved hand, and hissed when the ball made contact. The ball dropped into the grass. Dean chuckled.

"Catch with the glove, Sammy." Dean instructed. He raised his glove in demonstration. "Throw it."

Sam, hesitant, lightly tossed the ball. As he had demonstrated with the Goldfish, he was a good shot, and threw directly to Dean's glove. Dean let the ball hit his glove, and caged it with his remaining hand. He then grabbed the ball right out of his glove and tossed it back to Sam.

After a few fails, Sam caught the hang of it, and was soon throwing higher and to the side to provide a bit of a challenge for Dean. Dean did the same.

"So, how many...homes have you been to?" Dean asked hesitantly. He didn't want to intrude, and yet he was curious about this kid. Where he had come from.

"Seven." Answered Sam. "Well, eight, I guess. Counting this one."

"Wow." Came Dean's answer. "That sucks."

Sam barked a short laugh. "Yeah. It does."

"How long?" Dean asked, throwing the ball up higher. Sam jumped to catch it, and tossed it back to Dean. "You know, how long have you been in the system?"

"Since I was twelve." Came his quiet answer.

"Man." Dean sympathized quietly. "Do you ever...miss your family? Your original one?"

Sam waited for a while to answer. "Yes. And no."

Dean waited for clarification. He was just about to assume that it wasn't coming, when Sam spoke again.

"They loved me, you know? My parents. I know they did. So I miss them. But they turned me in, when they could have tried to hide me. So I don't. It's complicated."

"Sounds complicated." Dean muttered.

"Yeah." Sam agreed. He caught the ball, and held onto it for a moment, throwing it into his own glove. "You know what the worst part is?"

Dean shook his head. He knew better than to say anything.

"If they had turned me in, and been sad, or whatever, I would have been okay. But, they were...happy...I was leaving." Sam looked up at Dean. Dean could see tears shining in his eyes.

"My little brother was nine. He cried when they dragged me away. He chased after the car. And my parents did nothing. They let him cry." A tear slipped down Sam's cheek. "They did nothing…" He trailed off.

Dean stood in a shocked silence. He had often wondered what happened when a psychic was discovered. Obviously, they were separated from their families, but he had wondered if they ever visited. If they ever saw their family again.

"I guess I don't miss them. Not who there were, when they found out. I miss my parents before they knew what I was." Sam said softly. "I miss going over homework with my dad. I miss arguing with my mom about cleaning my room. I miss playing Legos with my younger brother."

Dean sighed. He stepped forward, walking over to where Sam stood. Reluctantly, he wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulder, shaking him supportively.

"You don't need to worry about them, okay?" Dean promised. "You got me. I'll look after you."

Sam laughed, his voice still thick with tears. "Are you sure? That's kind of a hard job."

Dean smiled, nodding. "I'm sure."


Thanks to all the reviewers, followers, and favoriters(?).

Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up my Monday. No promises. : )