Author note: Please go to the police if you are a victim of abuse, please don't suffer in silence as Dean does.
Trigger warning: references to past child abuse and a mention of self-harm
"What do you mean there are no files in the name of Dean Pyper?" Jane tried to keep her voice from rising as the annoyingly polite social services lady gave the same, useless, reply.
"I understand that you've searched all your online databases, but isn't there even a paper file?"
There came a pause and Jane dared to hope again. "Hold on, I'll have a look," came the reply.
Jane held the phone away from her face and let out a sigh. Bureaucracy was going to be the death of her.
She'd been trying for the last half an hour to get through to make enquiries into adopting Dean and until now, all she had was a plateful of jack with a side helping of squat. Despite numerous record searches and being redirected and put on hold often enough for her to contemplate coming over there and doing the bloody search for them, it seemed there really was no file on Dean Pyper.
Of course, there was a part of her that wasn't surprised at all. After all, if there had been a file and regular checks, there would have been no way Dean could have been kept in the conditions he was in. Lucas Pyper was a man with a big name and a lot of money: a dangerous combination that could pull a lot of strings.
As the lady came back to tell her once again that there was nothing with that name and no one at the Pyper residence had ever adopted anyone, Jane knew she really only had one option.
Two buses, a short walk and a grumble about why they should own more than one car later, she was ringing the doorbell of the Pyper residence. There was a short pause, then the latch was opened and Muriel's head popped out, all of the pleasant smiles of yesterday having been replaced by mild hostility.
"What do you want? The kid's too much for you and you want to dump him back here? Because you know we won't take him back," she said, moving to shut the door.
Jane stepped forward, caught the door with her palm and shoved it open. The smell of chicken wafted towards them from the kitchen. "You might want to turn the gas off, there's a fair bit I need to say to you two."
Once Lucas had finally been able to leave his spreadsheets and come down and Muriel had sent Max and Kate off to their rooms, Jane began.
"You have no idea how fuc-" she stopped and took a breath, trying to stop her fists from shaking in rage, then continued, "how angry I am at what I've heard over the last twenty four hours-"
"You don't believe his lies, do you?" interjected Lucas. "The boy's a delinquent, surely you didn't fall for the bullshit he spouted?"
"I saw the marks. You hit him, you starved him, you broke down his self-esteem until there was fuck all left and do you know what's the worst bit?" She advanced closer, holding his gaze long enough to see the veneer of confidence disappear and a small spark of fear ignite. "Do you know what really pisses me off?" she whispered, "He defends you. He thinks you gave him what he deserved and no more. In his world, you're the good guys."
Jane looked from Pyper to Pyper, hoping to see even a little bit of regret, the slightest hint of shame. She might as well have been searching for water in a desert.
She turned to Muriel and continued. "So to answer your earlier question, no, we don't want to dump Dean anywhere. But what's interesting is that the foster care people are saying that there's no file for Dean, that you two never even adopted a child. Mind shedding some light on that?"
Lucas sat down on the sofa with a smirk. "I had it shredded. I persuaded one of the admin staff to remove all paper and digital files on Dean's case to stop all home visits and checkups. Doesn't matter anyway, no one would have been stupid enough to taken a bastard like him in."
A second later, Jane was fisting his shirt and hauling him off the couch. "I dare you to speak of my son again like that," she breathed, "I fucking dare you."
But then she remembered her own words to Michael. She wasn't going to be a hypocrite about this. But that didn't stop half her mind from suggesting she break her promise to Dean and go to the police about these pieces of shit anyway.
And watch him be betrayed by another person who can't keep their word?
You remember his eyes, you remember his voice. Have you ever heard anything so broken?
"Please don't. Sir, ma'am, I'll do anything, but please don't go to the police."
"But Dean, they need to learn their lesson, they need to know that what they did was wrong."
"I-I don't trust them. They'll send me back." The last sentence barely above a whisper.
"They won't, they won't send you back to the Pypers."
A frantically shaking head. Wide, terrified, green eyes. "No, no, no, not to them. They-they'll- they'll…" Hitched breaths that give way to panicked wheezing. Jane and Michael on either side, guiding him onto his bed.
"We won't, we won't, I promise," she says. "Just take a deep breath for me."
If she's honest, a little part of her doesn't want to hear exactly why the kid's so scared. She's afraid of what other part of her his revelations might shatter.
Slowly, the boy stills.
Nonetheless, she might know that she'd never go to the police, but the couple in front of her didn't. Jane tended to think of herself as someone with steadfast morals, but she guessed she was willing to bend them for family. Forcing a shark-like grin, she uncurled her fist and took a step back, taking in their horrified faces.
"As you're so talented in the art of persuasion, you're going to do a little persuading for me. I know you must have the contacts to have had Dean's documents remade, so you're going to utilise them to get him a new set made in the name of Dean Winchester."
"Because you said so? Have you forgotten that your husband works under me?" blustered Lucas, having regained some of his composure.
"It seems you're the one who's forgotten that I have more than enough evidence to go to the police regarding your physical and mental abuse of a minor. If a new birth certificate and passport don't reach Michael by the end of next week, I'll go to the police. If a set of Dean's school records and references, with the name 'Winchester', don't reach him by the end of next week, I'll go to the police. If you harass my husband at work because of any of this, I'll go to the police."
She walked to the door and rested her hand on the handle, before turning round to face the abominations one last time and utter the one threat she well and truly meant. "If you hurt, or even try to contact, Dean ever again, I'll make you wish I'd gone to the police."
With that, she strode out.
Michael put down the shopping on the porch and fished out his keys. Dean had been quietly insisting on carrying the shopping but Michael had shushed him and told him the doctor had told him to rest his leg.
He'd barely managed to insert the key when the door opened from the other side.
"I couldn't reach you on your mobile, I'm guessing you'd forgotten to turn it on again?" she sighed as she moved out of the way to make room for them to squeeze in.
"We detoured for a shopping spree, I wanted to see what Rebecca Bloomwood loved so much about it."
They had ended up buying four sets of shirts and trousers, all in shades of blue, black and brown, despite Michael's light teasing about how Dean could easily work neon pink.
"These look fine," said Jane, looking over the clothes with a nod of approval. "But I need to talk to you both."
"Go on," said Michael, setting the bags down against the sofa.
"I tried to contact the Social Services regarding adopting Dean and they said they didn't have anything on him. So I paid the Pypers a visit."
Michael's eyebrows shot up. "Please tell me they're still alive."
"Relax, I did nothing-" she paused when Michael scoffed, "Okay, I may have roughed Lucas up a little. But it turns out they had him removed from the system and his file shredded."
Michael felt Dean shift beside him and heard him mutter "I could have told you that."
"You could have?" asked Jane.
"Yeah, he made the call in front of me, told me afterwards that it was so that I couldn't go crying to them if things got… difficult, now it was his way or the highway…" Dean scrunched his brow, "Okay, that sounded a lot better when he said it."
Jane swallowed and nodded, "He's now going to be delivering a new set of documents and school reports to you at work within the next week."
"How did you get him to agree to that?" asked Michael, impressed.
"I have my methods." Jane shrugged, before turning to Dean. "Do you think you could take these clothes upstairs and put them in your wardrobe?"
Dean nodded and reached for the bags, before stopping abruptly and turning to face them both. "If you need anything doing, anything at all, I'll do it for you. I can work and I can eat less…" he shrugged, "I- I just don't know how to repay you."
Michael had seen it coming. He knew there was no way the kid could accept kindness without looking for a catch or, in this case, creating a catch for himself. It was easier that than truly believing that good people existed. He wondered if it would always hurt this much to see Dean like this.
"Dean, dear, we don't expect any kind of repayment, we really don't. I know you're struggling to believe that now, but maybe, over time, you might come to see we mean it."
Doubt still marring the freckled face, Dean shrugged and carried the bags upstairs.
"What did the doctor say?" Jane asked, once they were alone.
"The bruising is pretty bad on his leg and the scars on his back will never fade. There was also something we hadn't spotted earlier. Dean's got two white scars on his wrist that I first thought were from self-harm. Turns out, his father had handcuffed him to radiators without bothering to check that they were off." Michael's voice grew bitter as he thought of all the children out there who suffered a similar fate in silence as his son had.
"Anything else?" choked Jane, blinking back tears.
"We're to give him painkillers if he's in pain and to keep the wounds clean."
"How come the sudden shopping trip?"
"When he was getting undressed, he was so embarrassed about the hole in his boxers. I just couldn't sit there and watch him feel so ashamed of himself."
His wife tilted her head and gave him a light smile. "I understand. And I've got to say, you guys did a pretty decent job."
They sat on the sofa for a while, Jane's head leaning against his chest, lost in their own thoughts about the child upstairs.
Finally, Jane spoke. "Once the school documents arrive from that Pyper bastard, we can talk to the headteacher at Moreton High about admitting Dean. I hope his grades aren't too bad, though if he was thinking about college, I'm guessing they won't be. Either way, as long as he's willing to work hard, I'm sure we'll muddle through."
Michael nodded. Jane kissed his cheek and got up to leave.
"I'm going to go make lunch, call the boys down in half an hour."
Jane heard the tinkle of broken glass and came running out of the kitchen.
Dean was stood in the centre of the living room, staring in horror at the shattered vase on the floor. At the sound of footsteps, Dean turned to face Jane, gaping.
Quickly, he knelt on the ground and pulled his shirt off over his head. Jane watched, dumbfounded, as the boy quivered, the patina of white scars and maroon welts on the arched back catching the pale light streaming in through the window.
Finally finding her tongue again, Jane said, "Don'-don't worry about the vase, Dean, accidents happen. Why did you take your shirt off?"
"Because I've done something wrong and I'm to take my punishment like a man." Dean recited through clenched teeth, both obedience and frustration radiating through his words.
"Oh God no, I'm not going to punish you! I'm jus-" Jane stopped because Dean had started glaring at her with unbridled anger. When he realised she'd seen the glare, his expressed changed back to the usual don't-give-a-damn look that Jane was growing used to.
"I know you're going to punish me, I just broke your property. If you're waiting for me to get the belt then you're gonna have to help me out, I don't know where the belt is." His voice remained casual but his eyes narrowed.
Jane picked up the shirt and came to sit next to the lightly shaking boy, handing him his possession. "Your only punishment is that you have to clear up the mess and be a little more careful next time. There'll be no hitting in this house." Dean's eyes remained narrow so Jane added, "You don't trust me at all, do you?"
There was a long pause as Dean thought through his answer.
"What would you like to hear?" he finally asked with a resigned sigh.
"The truth."
"Fine then, I don't trust you. Not as far as I can throw you and I reckon I could probably throw you a couple of inches at least."
Jane nodded, allowing herself a small, sad, smile at the scared boy's pathetic attempt at sarcasm. Of course he wouldn't trust her, it takes a while to get over the fact that everyone who was meant to look after you betrayed you in some way. She raised a hand to pat Dean's shoulder when the boy flinched.
"You said to tell you the truth! C'mon! You can't hit me for following orders!" Dean's voice filled with panic but it was his eyes that scared Jane. Green eyes that were so resigned, so accepting, that she almost wanted to shake the boy until those moss-coloured orbs filled with the indignation that ought to have been there.
He thinks you'll hit him and now you're thinking this? What kind of a monster are you?
With that thought, she wrapped her arms around the skinny boy and pulled him into a tight hug. She knew it would probably aggravating the welts on his back but she found she didn't care.
"I'm not going to hit you, not now, not ever. I've never hit Sam and trust me, he can be a real pain in the ass. I promise I'm not angry at you for the vase," she whispered into his hair, "besides, I'd never really liked that vase anyway."
Jane felt herself fill with warmth as Dean lifted his arms to awkwardly return her embrace.
