Two weeks after Sam turned three with as much fanfare as Dean could convince his dad was necessary, Dean sat in art class with the rest of his classmates. Dean liked art class. He'd made an ash tray out of clay for Bobby, who kept it on his window sill and showed it off to other hunters he'd had over. He'd learn to draw different shapes and flowers to hang on the fridge next to all of Sammy's pictures of dragons. He wasn't much of an artist, but he put a lot of effort in, which the teacher, Mr. Killington, said was the most important.
Things had been going a little bit better for Dean since he listened to Bobby's advice about not letting the other kids bother him and trying to make them laugh. Miss Sherry even told him that she was proud that he was making friends. He'd started to play at recess with the little boy that sat next to him, Matthew. He didn't let him play with his fire truck, but he did share his snack and play tag at recess with him and a couple other boys. It was a start. Dean figured he could probably get the hang of this making friends thing, eventually.
That day as Mr. Killington explained the assignment as he passed out supplies. "Since this week is Mother's Day, we're going to be making some special cards for all our mothers."
"What about Dean?" Jason asked. "Does he have to do not do nothing?"
Julie kicked him hard under the table. "Shhh," she whispered through her teeth. "Don't talk about it. Member when he kicked me? I had a bruise forever."
"Yeah, but he got kicked out of school for a day," Jason whispered back.
Dean smiled sadly and kicked his feet since he couldn't reach the floor. He'd definitely learned his lesson about hitting last time, but he kinda liked that there was threat of what he could do still there. But there was no way he'd ever attack someone like that again. He'd never seen his dad so mad and it was not anything he wanted to see again.
"Dean can make a card for whomever he wants," Mr. Killington said, placing a cup of colored pencils in front of Dean. "A grandma, an aunt, whomever he thinks is represents a mother to him."
Dean nodded while everyone looked at him wearily. It was like they were waiting for him to get upset, but he half expected this assignment. Bobby had warned him about it at the beginning of the week. It wasn't really in the minds of Elementary school teachers to bend the curriculum around one child who lost his mother. Dean knew exactly who to make a good mother's day card for. The rest of the class didn't have to know that he didn't really have a family outside of Uncle Bobby, his Dad and Sammy.
He watched as his classmates as they talked about what they talked about what their mom's liked, silently taking notes since he didn't really know what Mom's liked.
"My mom really likes flowers," Ally said. "I should draw her flowers."
"Mine likes when I dance, maybe I could try to draw me dancing," Julie said.
"My mom likes kittens," another student added.
Dean sat quietly and listened to what everyone else's mom like deciding what he should draw. He thought about the great card that Sammy gave him for his birthday, and how great that had made him feel. He knew it was because Sammy loved him so much, not because of what he drew on it. He nodded to himself and took the green colored pencil and started to draw. He was pretty proud of drawing when he was finished, probably the best one he'd ever drawn.
"Who is that for?" Julie asked when they all got in line to head back to Miss Sherry's room at the end of class.
Dean shrugged and smiled at her, but didn't answer, that was his business. He'd gotten himself in enough trouble this year telling Julie things that she didn't really need to know.
Back in class Miss Sherry was teaching about weather. Dean had overheard Dad talking to Uncle Bobby about weather and demons, so he figured it was a good idea to pay attention really well to this, even if he wasn't really a big fan of the science stuff usually. Dean didn't really understand why there were different kinds of clouds; they all really looked the same to him. He was going to have to ask Uncle Bobby about that one.
After science it was time to go get the busses, so Miss Sherry started to shepherd everyone toward the lobby.
"Miss Sherry," Dean said, tugging at her shirt sleeve.
""What is it Dean?" Miss Sherry said. "Is your Dad coming to get you today so you don't get on the bus?"
"No," Dean said looking at the floor. "I'm staying with Uncle Bobby this week, my dad's away for the family business. But I gots something for you."
He opened his back pack leaning over his shoulder, holding his helmet on his head. He pulled out the piece of construction paper from art class and handed it to her.
"Mr. Killington say-ed that I could make my Mother's Day card for any lady that I knowed. But I don't gots an Auntie or a Grandma or nothing, so I maked it for you."
Miss Sherry crouched down next to Dean in the middle of the lobby and took the card.
"Thank you Dean, that's very sweet."
"You should read it," Dean nodded. "I worked really hard."
Miss Sherry smiled as opened it. "Dean, this is wonderful."
"I drawed me and you at the school, that's my fire helmet. And it says that you are the nicest lady that I knowed, and that I really like you, and you're probably the bestest teacher ever because you don't make fun of me like everybody did, and that you're really smart a cuz you knowed all the stuff that you teached us."
Miss Sherry hugged the little boy tightly. "Thank you so much sweetie. I love it. I'm gonna stick it on my desk. Now go get on the bus before you miss it."
Dean nodded with his whole body like he always did and ran off to catch his bus.
"Uncle Bobby," Dean asked struggling with his science worksheet at the kitchen table. "Who do you make Mother's Day cards for?"
"Why?" Bobby asked from the stove where he was stirring dinner.
"Today at school we maked Mother's Day cards," Dean explained. "So I maked one for Miss Sherry. Who do you make yours for?"
"Well, Sport," Bobby said slowly. "When I was your age, I would make them for my mom, but she went to heaven a long time ago."
"So she's with my mom?"
"Yeah," Bobby answered. "I haven't made a Mother's Day card in a long time."
"Everybody at school today was talking about stuff their mom's liked," Dean sighed. "But I don't remember much about mine. Only that she was pretty and she used to sing to me, and she made good soup when I had a tummy ache."
"That's quite a bit," Bobby replied. "You were really little."
"Daddy doesn't like it when I ask questions," Dean said. "If you know-ed her would you tell me about her?"
"Of course I would," Bobby smiled.
"Sammy's gonna figure it someday isn't he? That everybody else has a mom."
"Probably," Bobby answered.
"What am I gonna tell him?" Dean asked seriously. "He's probably gonna be confused."
"I'm sure y'all figure something out," Bobby answered.
"I don't wanna lie to him," Dean said. "Daddy says that lying is the worst thing you can ever do. But I don't knows how to explain it to him."
"Well," Bobby said. "You just gotta tell him what you know."
"I don't think Daddy's gonna like it when Sammy asks those questions," Dean said. "He doesn't really like it now when Sammy asks questions now, and most of them are silly questions. This is why I need a time machine car like that movie. I can fix it so Sammy and Daddy don't have to be sad. But Daddy said I couldn't make the car into a time machine. So I can't fix it."
"What about you?" Bobby asked.
"Huh?" Dean said looking up.
"What about you not being sad?"
Dean nodded but didn't say anything.
"Dean?"
"Daddy gets really mad at me when I talk about Mommy," Dean said seriously. "I just don't want him to get mad at Sammy too."
Bobby took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. "Your dad isn't the most patient man," Bobby said. "But Sammy's got you. That's better than some kids got."
"Really?"
"O'course." Bobby said. "I think by the time that Sammy starts wondering why he's different from all the other kids, you'll have the right answers. You don't gotta lie to him to make him understand. And I bet he'll understand a whole lot better than some of the kids in you class."
"But Uncle Bobby," Dean continued. "What if Sam asks Dad instead of me?"
"Sport," Bobby said in his most serious voice. "Sam comes to you when he wants a glass of milk and when he has to pee. He'll come to you about just about everythin' in life. I can promise you that one."
"You're sure?" Dean asked.
"Yes, I'm very sure."
"Okay," Dean smiled. "How come there are three different kinds of clouds? Cuz I don't get it. They all look the same."
Bobby chuckled to himself as he stirred his stew. He walked over to Dean and sat across from him. "You're learning about clouds?"
"I don't like science," Dean stated. "It's very hard. But I heard you and Dad talkin' one time about how the demons control the weather, so I guess it's important."
"You don't gotta worry about things like demons Buddy, just focus on learin' school for now."
"But Dad say-ed that when school gets out he's gonna teach me to shoot. So I can be ready."
Bobby's heart ached for this poor little boy. He didn't have a chance. He wasn't going to get a chance to think about normal things. He was going to worry about how to keep his brother from figuring out about the evils of the world and how to fight off demons.
"Well ya don't gotta think about that until schools over for the summer, let's just focus on school work for now."
"I guess," Dean sighed. "But this is stupid. I like the stuff that we do about the past, like Indians and war. Did you know that one time a long time ago before cars a bunch of people got really mad and taked a bunch of tea and just thowed it in the ocean?"
"Yes I did."
"And one time a guy rode a horse all over the country because there wasn't phones? And another time, this one guy he stood in the rain and caught lightnin' in a jar and that's why we gots lights and stuff. And one time a bunch of people lived on a boat and then they climbed onto a rock and that's why we have Thanksgiving."
Bobby nodded. "Sort of."
"That's kinda awesome," Dean said. "And not stupid like clouds. Clouds are stupid."
"All of its important Buddy," Bobby said. "Just some of it's not as excitin'. Let me see the worksheet. I'll help ya out."
Dean handed Bobby the worksheet reluctantly, he wasn't good at asking for help.
"I'm supposta do it myself, I didn't wanna ask questions in class, cuz I didn't want Miss Sherry to think I was stupid."
"No one's gonna think your stupid cuz you asked a question."
Dean shrugged. "Everybody else understood what Miss Sherry was talking about. I feeled stupid. I don't really like it when I feeled stupid."
Bobby smiled sadly. "You're not stupid. I'll help you out. But remember that you're not stupid, and Miss Sherry isn't gonna think you're stupid. No matter what you ask."
