Title: Flame
Disclaimer: Dean, Sam, and John aren't mine; just for fun.
Warnings: underaged sex; spoilers for up to "Folsom Prison Blues"
Pairings: OFC/Dean, OMC/OFC
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 2865
Point of view: third
She was a senior that year, top of the class, prom queen since ninth grade. Popular with everybody, kind to all.
And tired of wearing the all-American, nice girl mask. She'd worn it since she turned twelve and Melanie ran off with Scot Davids, gone without word or warning. Melanie didn't even tell her that she was leaving, and Caroline had thought they shared everything.
Mama very nearly snapped after that, so Caroline became the perfect daughter to help her. No problems at school, of any kind. A's in everything subject, no marks on her record. Melanie had been a difficult child, so Caroline made sure she wasn't.
Then Dad ran off with Kelly Coleman from down the street, not even half a year after Melanie left. Mama swallowed a bottle of pills, and after she got out of the hospital, Uncle Mike moved in. He took care of Mom, so Caroline took care of herself, kept her nose out of trouble.
By ninth grade she was five foot six and doubted she'd ever get taller. She was never hungry, so she rarely ate. She ran a mile a day, working out her rage and pain. She wore glasses only at home, just to let her see intricate details.
Caroline wasn't happy, but had perfected her mask and no one could tell. Uncle Mike was wrapped up at work and Mom wrapped up in her soaps. Caroline went to school, ran, did homework, showered, and slept. She hung out with kids from school who called themselves her friends.
At the beginning of senior year, Mark Stone—hottest boy at school—asked her to a movie. She went and became his girlfriend. He was a nice enough guy, though dull, and a good way to pass the time.
By October, she was bored. But she didn't let on, just kept going out with him, kept kissing his thin and dry lips, kept letting him put his hands on her.
In November she noticed a boy watching her. He was cute, in a half-grown sort of way, and he'd be beyond beautiful when older. He was shy, not speaking to anyone that she ever saw. Caroline asked around—he was a freshman, new, and no one knew much about him.
He was a mystery. She dropped Mark in less than a heartbeat.
-
Dean Winchester. His name rolled off her tongue with ease and she turned it over in her mind. She studied him—hazel eyes the size of planets, dark blond hair that looked softer than a chick's down, tanned skin, and the way his t-shirt's clung to him? Looked like he was in better shape than that dullard Mark.
More asking around revealed he had a little brother and no mother, just a dad who leased an apartment in the bad side of town.
Dean sat alone at lunch. He'd been at the school for a little over two months and made no friends. Caroline watched for a week before she made her move, but at lunch on Friday, she strode through the cafeteria and sat down across from him, focusing on her food.
She didn't say a thing and neither did he throughout the whole meal. When lunch ended, she went on her way with only a smile directed at him.
Monday, she did the same thing, but noticed that he had a nasty black eye and he winced whenever he shifted in his seat. "Dean, are you okay?" she asked and titled her head when he raised his gaze to meet hers.
"You know my name?" His voice was hoarse, and when he rubbed his throat, she saw marks on his neck.
"I've been watchin' you," she explained, worry building. "Are you bein' hurt at home?"
A smile flicked across his face. "No," he answered. "I got in a fight, is all."
A liar knows a lie. But she didn't call him on it, and when he asked, "Why've you been watchin' me?" she allowed him to direct the conversation.
"You seem interesting." She grinned at him.
He was shocked, she could tell. Used to being ignored, looked over, passed up. Once he'd grown, she knew he'd never have to fear that again. "Interestin'?" he repeated. "Me?"
"Yes, you," she laughed, offering him her dessert, then holding out her hand. "Caroline Tyndall."
He took her hand with wide eyes and shook. "Dean Winchester."
-
Her group of followers was shocked, but Caroline didn't care. She'd grown bored with them, anyway. Dean was an enigma, a puzzle with some pieces missing, and she could spend years fitting them together.
She offered to help him with his homework, that first Monday, but he kindly turned her down with a sweet shake of his head. "Thank you," he said. "But I have something to do after school."
"I'll see you tomorrow, then," she told him, watching as he walked out the school.
Vic, her 'best friend,' walked up behind her. "What are you doin', Carol?" Vic asked, in that annoying breathy tone she thought attractive.
Caroline shot her a scathing glance and went the opposite way as Dean. She ran two miles that day, burning off her bit of anger at being turned down and fear that this boy who called to her may be getting beat at home.
-
Uncle Mike cooked hamburgers. Caroline took one bite and drank three glasses of water, then showered with scalding hot water and slipped into bed. It was hours before she fell asleep and she dreamt in shades of red.
Tuesday it rained and she sat across from Dean at lunch. He greeted her with a small smile and a soft, "Hello."
She asked him how he liked the school. He gave her a safe answer and the discussion moved on, to movies. He knew about old horror flicks from the fifties and sixties, like Melanie used to, so that claimed the remainder of lunch. He was a fascinating boy, keeping her attention in a way that almost seemed effortless, unlike anyone since Mel.
When lunch ended, she didn't want to let him go. She hadn't experienced that feeling in nearly seven years, not since her big sister ran off to marry that useless fool.
-
Wednesday, she followed him after school, across the way to the elementary playground. He leaned on the fence and she settled next to him. He was about five ten, five eleven—taller than Mark. Long and lean—and she stifled a giggle. Here she was, waxing poetic like a twelve-year-old schoolgirl with a crush when she was a shoe-in for valedictorian.
"You have a little brother or sister?" Dean interrupted her train of thought, sounding dubious.
"No," she replied, with the grin Melanie used to call smartass. "But you do."
Again, she'd shocked him. She decided she adored the look on his face when that happened. "You're gonna wait with me for Sammy?"
"Unless you don't want me to, Dean." Caroline toned down the flirting.
He shrugged. "Go ahead, if you wanna. 's'free fence."
She smiled at him. "What's your schedule?"
Dean rattled off, " Wilson for Geometry, Adamson for English, Darel for PE, LeBlanc for Spanish, Reed for World History, Ellard for Art, and Knowles for Life Science."
She thought for a moment. "Okay. Wilson is a pain. You have to do everything his way or he docks points. Adamson is a sweetheart—you'll probably remind her of her grandson, so expect to be embarrassed frequently. It's easy to wow her, but you seem the literary type." She kept her grin at Dean's blush to herself. "I didn't have Darel, so I can't help you there. LeBlanc is a horrid teacher but a nice lady." Caroline shrugged. "Reed… well, just keep up with the text and you'll ace his class. Ellard's a good teacher; his class is fun. And Knowles is new, just like you."
Dean stared at her then looked back at the playground. "Why are you bein' nice to me?"
She bumped his shoulder gently. "Because I want to be."
The elementary got out, a river of kids flowing through the door. A boy with shaggy dark hair ran over to Dean and started chattering. Dean nodded and responded, and Caroline watched in shock as his whole body lit up, as his entire bearing brightened.
"Sammy," Dean interrupted, "this is Caroline." The boy turned his attention to her, eyes like lasers. "Caroline, this's my little brother, Sammy."
His grin nearly blinded her. "Are you Dean's girlfriend?" He drew out the last word, sing-songing it.
Dean thumped his head. "It's been nice talkin' to you, Caroline," Dean said. "But I gotta get Thing Two home now."
His smile was subdued and a blush tinted his cheeks. She watched them walk away and the hole Melanie left in her ached.
-
Thursday, Mark picked a fight with Dean and got his ass kicked. Luckily, a teacher was in sight and saw Mark throw the first punch, so all of Dean's actions were written off as self-defense.
The way he moved put Mark to shame. Hell, it put dancers to shame. His entire body moved fluidly, gracefully, so much like a cat it stole her breath.
No one messed with Dean after that. And no one challenged Caroline about befriending him anymore.
-
Friday, Caroline asked Dean to come over for dinner. Uncle Mark was on a business trip and Mom probably wouldn't leave her room, so Caroline figured they'd be able to talk without getting interrupted.
She really wanted to know him. He was funny and kind and interesting, unlike anyone since Melanie.
To her shock—as he'd turned down every invitation sent his way—Dean said yes. He'd drop Sammy off at home and swing by. Caroline picked up hamburgers and sundaes, set the table fancy—she wanted to impress him, though she wasn't sure why.
Liar, Melanie whispered in her head. You know.
He showed up five minutes early, wearing a fairly dressy shirt and somewhat new jeans. Dean looked adorable and Caroline felt sure beyond doubt he'd be stunningly gorgeous when all grown up.
She greeted him with a brilliant smile and ushered him in. He looked nervous and babbled something about how she didn't have to go to so much trouble, didn't have to be so nice.
Caroline shushed him. "I wouldn't've invited you over if I didn't want to, Dean."
Dean followed her through the house with wide eyes. But she finally led him to the dining room and offered him a Coke, told him to pick a seat. He chose where Uncle Mike usually sat, with his back to the wall and facing both doors.
"I don't know what you expect of me," he admitted shyly, pouring ketchup onto his burger. He didn't meet her eyes.
"Just talk," she said. "Like at school."
He stayed silent for a moment then made a comment about The Terminator. And conversation flowed steadily, flitting from topic to topic with an ease that shocked her. She watched as Dean relaxed, as his body loosened.
She cleared the table with his help and told him to put the dishes in the sink. As he turned, she stepped up to him, stared into his eyes.
Caroline knew she was too old for him, knew that to push him would be to lose him. His eyes were wide and she saw the panic settling at his edges.
So she just reached up to lightly touch his cheek. "Thank you for coming to dinner, Dean."
Caroline backed up slowly, keeping his gaze, then swiftly turned, calling over her shoulder, "Follow me."
Before he'd arrived, she went through their movies, pulling out all the ones she thought he might like. She sank onto the couch and gestured to the stack of films. "Pick one."
Dean knelt and sorted through them before turning to face her, The Day of the Triffids in hand. "Where the hell did you find this?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Uncle Mike brought it from Florida. Me and Mel used to watch it."
Dean licked his lips. "D'ya mind if we watch it?"
"Sure," Caroline answered. "If you want."
-
On Monday she greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. He stared at her, incredulous, and she smiled.
By the end of school, everyone knew that Caroline Tyndall kissed Dean Winchester. Mark glared at them both as Caroline walked with Dean to the elementary. She almost hoped he'd try something so Dean could kick his ass again.
"Would you like to come over?" Dean asked, shyly glancing at her then away. He studied the ground.
She knew what it cost him to ask, realized how much he kept to himself. "Sure," she answered. "I'd like that."
"I need help with some Geometry problems," he lied, but she didn't call him on it.
Sam ran up, bouncing and chattering. He spared her a glance then focused on Dean, asking a question without waiting for an answer. He went on ahead, circling back to where Dean and Caroline followed.
They spoke about movies before meandering to books and history. She'd known he was smart, but wow—he could easily best her, no easy feat. He didn't flaunt his knowledge, which she liked.
Once they reached his apartment, Dean sat Sam down at the kitchen table and said, "What're the assignments today?"
Sam rattled off his homework and Dean asked, "Can I trust you to do part of it before watchin' TV?"
With a nod Sam promised. Dean turned to Caroline and asked, "Wanna go for a run?"
-
A month passed. Caroline spent all her time with Dean, except those few times he was gone. She met his father one day, a large, gruff man who frightened her, even as he treated her with respect.
The Monday after Mr. Winchester drove her home, Caroline noticed bruises on Dean's left arm. She'd almost forgotten her suspicions, but now they came back full force.
"Dean," she said, softly and seriously, "does your dad hurt you?"
He stared at her with wide eyes for a moment before his gaze flicked to the bruising. "No," he answered. "Really, Carol, he doesn't. I know what it looks like—but Dad has never beaten me."
A liar knows a lie—and Dean spoke the truth.
-
After winter break Dean was quiet, withdrawn. It took Caroline a week to badger out of him what was wrong.
"At the beginning of February, we're movin' on," Dean told her.
Her breath caught. "What?"
"You heard me." Dean's voice was sharp and biting, a tone never before directed towards her. "We're leavin'." He stormed away, then swung back to glare at her. "Why'd you have to become my friend, Caroline? Why'd you have to make me care?"
"Oh," she whispered, finally understanding. "Dean, I'm sorry."
His glare intensified and he stalked away.
-
It took until the middle of January before Dean fully forgave her. They hung out again, discussed movies and books and school. She gave him one of Melanie's favorite novels, a slim volume called Shane.
-
It was a Friday. The highschool had a half-day and the elementary didn't. Caroline brought Dean home with her. Uncle Mike was at work, Mom passed out in her room, and Dean would be gone soon, Caroline never seeing him again—
She kissed him in the den, pulling his head down with clammy hands. She hadn't been so nervous in a long time. He froze at first, trying to shy away, but she tightened her grip. It took a moment, but he caught on.
She led him to her bedroom and locked the door.
-
Dean and his family left on a Thursday. He told her goodbye at school and she kissed him on the lips, not caring that the whole senior class watched.
She pressed a large silver ring she'd bought at a pawnshop into his hand. "Don't forget me, yeah?" She forced back tears.
Dean's smile was soft and full. "Never," he promised and kissed her again.
-
It was early 2007 when Caroline was watching the news and a bulletin scrolled across the screen: Dean and Sam Winchester, wanted dead or alive.
Caroline's mouth dropped open and the remote fell from her grasp, clattering on the floor.
"Caroline?" Terry called from the kitchen. "You okay?"
With a dry mouth, she answered, "I'm fine."
She'd been right, back then—Dean Winchester grew up fucking gorgeous. He'd filled out, grown into his looks.
"Dean, what happened?" she whispered, closing her eyes, remembering him as a boy, how gentle and kind and quiet he'd been.
She clicked off the TV and hurried to the computer room, kicked Nicole out. Caroline googled Dean Winchester and couldn't believe what she found. Where was the boy she knew? What could possibly have happened to him?
One of the photos showed his right hand and the large silver ring on his finger. Caroline stared at the picture for a long time.
Then she tucked in her babies, little Miriam and Danny, relinquishing the computer back to Nicole.
Caroline curled up on the couch with Terry and asked if they could watch The Day of the Triffids. Terry kissed her temple and said yes.