A/N – Hey, I just remembered that I promised hugs and puppies, and I didn't even realise it but I managed to deliver didn't I! I'm so glad that you all liked Chester so much, he's a beautiful dog isn't he? And thank you for the wonderful reviews, believe me I'm working on replies but I got so inspired in writing that I've put them on the back burner for a while! Whoops! But then again, I don't hear complaints about two or three chapters a day, so maybe I shouldn't worry huh? LoL
Disclaimer: They're not mine, nothing changed over night and I still don't get paid to do this.
Chapter Ten
Game Faces
John Winchester stood in the hall outside the room where the hearing would be held. It was more informal than an actual court case, but the doors seemed somehow more intimidating than John had been prepared for. Those doors took on a personality of their own, and it was more threatening and scary than any demon or supernatural creature John had ever come across. Those doors took on the persona of the person who would decide the fate of his family, as if – just by walking through – he would be judged in an instant and the decision would be made.
This was a day that John would remember forever… it would either be the day he took his boys home again, or the day he struggled to catch his breath as panic overwhelmed him as they were separated permanently.
The hearing would start in thirty minutes, and John could barely sit still. His boys would arrive soon and they'd be allowed to come into the room. The judge would ask them questions and he would actually get to see them. He had been dreaming of this day for weeks, wondering what he could say to them, what he wanted to say to them, but nothing came to mind. Nothing seemed appropriate… 'I love you' seemed lame. 'I miss you' seemed pathetic… neither could relay to the boys how he really felt at being away from them, and what he really wanted to say… well, he couldn't tell them. He didn't want to get their hopes up.
Thoughts of the passed two weeks tormented John. There was a banging in his head as a knock from the passed haunted him… a knock on the motel door, frantic, angry and desperate.
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Two and a half weeks earlier
Jim opened the door, panicked at the desperation he heard in the sound. John had heard it from the shower and rushed to get out, pulling clothes on without bothering to take the time to dry off first. This couldn't be a good visit, it couldn't be good news… there was too much worry behind the knock for it to be anything but bad new.
And he knew instantly that one of his boys were in trouble.
"West?" he greeted the doctor, confused. "What's wrong?"
"It's Sammy," West said, barely able to catch his breath. John's eyes went wide as his knees threatened to give out on him. He wasn't sure how much more he could take, the past month had been so hard on him, so painful, and the thought of his boys suffering any kind of pain when he couldn't be there to help them was too much for him.
He managed to stay on his feet.
"Wh-what do you mean it's Sammy?" he stammered. "Where is he?"
Westerly wanted to look away, John could see it but he didn't. He held John's gaze and took a deep breath… it was coming, whatever horrible thing had happened to his baby boy, John was about to hear it.
"He's at the hospital," Westerly announced, his voice sounding weak and tired. "I was paged early this morning… he was found beaten in the toilets at that damn home!"
"WHAT!" John yelled, launching himself at Westerly. Jim and Bobby, both holding their breaths to hear the news, were on their feet now and held John back. Westerly had jumped back from him, uncertain of what he should do when someone as strong as John was coming after him and equally uncertain why he was baring the brunt of the man's anger. But John wasn't seeing the doctor stand in front of him anymore, he was seeing just red, just a blood red in the darkness that was threatening to overcome him as he thought of his tiny boy lying in another hospital bed, hurt… and John couldn't get to him.
He felt strong hands leading him to a nearby bed and relented when they pushed him to sit down. He hung his head in his hands and tried to breathe through the rage that was racing through him. He felt suddenly hot, as if his blood were literally beginning to boil.
"He's got a severe concussion, some possible memory loss…" Westerly explained gently.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" John asked, his voice low but dangerous.
"I haven't left his side all day, John," Westerly told him. "I came as soon as I felt I could leave him for long enough to tell you…"
"Memory loss?" John asked, the words just registering with him. "What do you mean, memory loss?"
"Short term memory is sometimes effected by a concussion like this," Westerly answered, sitting on the edge of the bed across from John, somehow not afraid to get closer to the man. He trusted John Winchester, and he would never quite be able to understand why, but he knew he was in no real danger from the man. "It's normally temporary, but there's really no way to tell until we see the effects. Right now, each time he wakes up we're having the same conversation… where he is, what happened to him, what his injuries are, that sort of thing. It's just the first day, but I think we'll have a couple more like this before he recovers…"
"He was supposed to be safe," John growled. "This wasn't supposed to happen! Whose the asshole that did this to him?"
"I don't know the whole story, but from what Miss Rose tells me it was an older kid named Joshua. He's about twelve, and his history is… well, nasty. It's mostly just come to light today, until now everyone thought he was a good kid from a sad, abusive background… until the parents finally spoke up, no one realised that this kid was the abuser. He tortured the family birds with cow prods until they died… he was a nasty piece of work. He's headed straight for juvie, though I would imagine there'd be a lot worse for him after that."
John breathed, trying to understand what Westerly was telling him. The man was gentle and kind in his words, not hiding anything from John, but only half of what he was saying was sinking in… he knew something about cow prods and birds, and his son couldn't remember things one moment to the next.
"I have to see Sammy," John announced, getting to his feet suddenly.
Westerly hesitated.
"John," he began, uncertainty tainting his voice. He went from the competent doctor to a man desperate to see father and son reunited but knowing there was nothing to be done about it yet.
"You've got to be kidding me!" John exploded again. "They take my boys away from me, wont let me see my son in ICU and then they put him in some group home to be beaten by some sadistic asshole just to wind up back in the hospital… all this not long after major surgery and they still wont let me see him? What the hell kind of a person would put a five year old through all of that when there's no reason! He's just a kid!"
"John, I know…" Westerly tried, looking to Jim for help.
Jim had been lost for words, but he jumped in as soon as Westerly's eyes pleaded with him for help.
"John," Jim began, unsure of what to say to his friend but knowing he would have to come up with something. "You have to calm down now, okay? Whatever is happening with Sammy right now, West is taking care of him and he's safe… this whole thing is ridiculous and you'll get the chance to tell a judge that in two weeks, but right now the best thing you can do for Sammy – and Dean – is to not give yourself a heart attack."
John sighed and sank back down onto the bed, suddenly feeling exhaustion hitting his aching and sore body.
"You're taking care of him?" John asked, glancing at Westerly.
"Yes," he assured him. "I promise you, I'm by his side at all times… he's not waking up alone, John."
"What happens next?" John asked.
"He'll be in hospital about a week, and then he'll be in a home with a lady that is a personal friend of Miss Rose's…"
"With Dean?" John asked, knowing that Dean was also with Miss Rose's friend and hoping his boys would at least have each other.
"No, but he wont be far from Dean from what I've been told," Westerly assured him. "Miss Rose checked in with Dean just the other day, actually… he's a lot happier, getting along with the lady taking care of him really well and talking more than before too. Mostly when he's asked a question, I think, but he's apparently got more bounce in his step."
"Good," John sighed, relieved to hear that at least his eldest was okay. "And Sammy's going to a good place too?"
"I'm meeting the lady in a couple of days, I'll know more then…"
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Present Day
John's heart hammered in his chest again as he thought over his conversation with Westerly from that night. Sammy with a serious concussion, short term memory loss… battered and bruised in a hospital and no one had explained what exactly had happened to his boy. He wanted to see him, wanted to know if he was okay. John knew that Sammy had been released from hospital and sent home with a lady named Josephine Waters, but no one would say anything more than that. It seemed to him that he had a right to know what had happened to his boy, but apparently the CPS disagreed.
He glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes to go…
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Dean, fully dressed in a pair of black slacks and a nice shirt that Sandy had bought for him just for the occasion, was combing his hair. He wriggled uncomfortably, not used to wearing clothes like this and wishing he could go in jeans and a pair of boots instead of the most uncomfortable shiny black shoes he had ever seen.
"Here you go," Sandy announced proudly from the doorway as she stood smiling down at the boy she had taken care of for all but four days of his time away from his father. Those four days had been with the Castle family, and she had heard about them from other foster parents that were almost certain there was something wrong in that house. Still, nobody had been able to prove it until… "This should finish that outfit off really nicely."
Dean glanced at her in the mirror. Sandy was grinning at him, full of excitement for the big day… and she was holding a black jacket in her hands.
Dean groaned and rolled his eyes.
"Dad hasn't seen me in a while," Dean reminded her. "What if he doesn't recognise me in this stuff?"
"Dean," Sandy chuckled, hanging the jacket from a hook on the door and heading toward him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him reassuringly before planting a kiss on the top of his head and finally turning him to see her. "Your dad would recognise you from a hundred yards on a cloudy day, I bet… a jacket and shiny shoes is not going to change that."
Dean grinned. She was right, of course, Dean thought. Dad'll recognise me… but…
"What about Sammy?" Dean gasped. "Sammy might not recognise me!"
Sandy chuckled.
"You nervous about today?" she asked gently. Dean hesitated a moment before nodding. "Dean, everything's going to be fine, okay? Your dad is going to be there, Sammy's going to be there and everyone's going to be okay… I don't want you worrying about this, okay? I want you to relax and find that big, Dean Winchester smile so that when your Dad sees you, he knows how happy you are to be there okay?"
Dean nodded again, but felt too numb to smile. Things had been so wrong for so long, he wasn't sure he could deal with another disappointment.
"You and Sammy are going to be going home with your daddy tonight, I'm sure of that," Sandy assured him. "And I bet that he's gonna let you pick whatever you want for dinner, too!"
"Pizza?" Dean asked, as if Sandy were the one with the authority to say yes or no.
"I don't know, does your dad like pizza?"
"I think so…"
"You think so?"
"Well," Dean bit his lip and looked away, tears shining in his eyes before he finally answered. "I haven't seen him in a while, what if he's different?"
"He will be different," Sandy agreed carefully. "He'll be happier than you've ever seen him, and relieved to have you back… trust me…"
"Sammy might not like pizza," Dean murmured. "He might have forgotten…"
"Huh?" Sandy asked, seriously confused. Only Dean could confuse her like this.
"He got hit, remember? What if he doesn't remember me? Or that he likes pizza?"
"Dean, did he remember you on the phone? When you talked to him in the hospital?" Sandy asked. Dean nodded. "Somehow I thought he would… you're not someone that anyone would be able to forget and certainly not in a hurry...""
Dean saw tears glisten in Sandy's eyes.
"What's wrong?" he asked her, concerned. "Did I do something wrong?"
Sandy shook her head hurriedly.
"No, not at all," she assured him. "You were wonderful, Dean, you are wonderful… I'm just… I'm going to miss you, that's all…"
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Sammy was dressed in the nice pants and shirt that Josephine had bought him, his too-long hair had been brushed back from his face. He was sitting on the bed that had been his for the passed week… well, his and Chester's, at least. He didn't mind sharing, though, the dog had refused to leave his side the whole time. He had even sat outside the bathroom door and huffed as he waited impatiently for the boy to do his business and have a shower.
Now the young boy was sitting on the bed with Chester, stroking his silking coat absent-mindedly, a sad and tearful expression on his face.
"Hey Sam, you ready to go?" Josephine called from the dining room just up the hall from Sammy's bedroom. When Sammy didn't answer, she went looking for him and wanted to cry when she saw Sammy staring down at Chester with tears streaming down his cheeks, Chester's head resting on Sammy's knee with the most pitiful sad puppy dog eyes she had ever seen. "Oh, Sam… what's wrong? Aren't you excited? You're going to see your dad today!"
Sammy nodded and sniffed at the same time, a complete contradiction in terms.
"What's wrong?" she asked, squatting down in front of the young boy.
"I'm gonna miss you," Sammy whimpered, tearing his eyes from Chester long enough to look at Josephine. "And I'm gonna miss Chester! I wish you could come with me!"
"Oh, Sammy…" Josephine moaned, a sadness deep in her own chest as she scooped the little boy into her arms and held him gently. She knew he was still sore from everything he had been through and she worried all the time about hurting him. He seemed so fragile – except when he was playing rough and tumble with Chester, of course, but that came at a price. "I'm going to miss you too! But you know what? You're going to go home with your dad tonight, and you're going to be with your brother… and you are always, ALWAYS welcome here… okay?"
Sammy nodded but didn't feel any better about losing his new friends. He didn't remember his mom, but he was almost certain that she was like Josephine – kind, loving, caring, with a smile that could light up every room in the house. He had seen some photos and he knew Josephine didn't look anything like his mom, Mary Winchester had truly been something special… but Josephine had made it feel like Sammy had had a mom, at least for a little while. After everything else that had happened since being taken away from his dad, she had made Sammy smile again.
"Come on, kid, we have to go," Josephine announced. "You got your game face on?"
Sammy grinned through his tears, remembering that Josephine had reminded him that his dad would want to know he was happy, and that he was excited to be able to see him again.
"Righto, Slugger, let's get going!" Josephine grinned, following Sammy to the front door. Chester tried to sneak out with them but she held him back. "Sorry, old boy, not this time…"
With a sad look and an unhappy huff, Chester laid down on the mat inside the door to wait. Sammy glanced back, realised that Chester wasn't coming and raced back to see him. He buried his face in the dogs soft coat and sobbed to him a moment, whispering quiet promises in his ear that he'd visit.
Chester wasn't so sure as he watched sadly through the closed wood door as if he could still see the little boy he loved so much driving away…
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"John Winchester?" a man in a uniform called. John, Bobby, Jim and Westerly all got to their feet and followed the man into the room. He indicated seats along one side of the table and the four nervous men made their way to their seat. The air was thick with tension, so thick John wasn't sure he was going to be able to speak during the process since he could barely breathe.
"Relax John, it'll be okay," Jim assured him.
John nodded and set his jaw firmly, but he wasn't convinced that Jim was right. So many things could still go wrong… he pulled the yellow envelope from his coat pocket and laid it on the table in front of him. Jim eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing.
John Winchester's hands were shaking as he ran them through his carefully combed hair and finally rested them on top of the envelope. He wanted to be able to grab his sons the minute he saw them and hug them to him fiercely but he knew that wasn't allowed.
He just hoped he'd be able to keep swallowing the tears that had been threatening to spill over all morning.
"When's the judge getting here?" Bobby asked.
John had been wondering the same thing, but he didn't have the voice to ask the question himself.
"The judge wont arrive until…" Jim's voice faded as he indicated the door opposite the one they had come in through. The same man that had led them to their seats was now letting in more people… Miss Dogden…
John tensed and immediately felt Jim's hand on his arm as a gentle reminder to stay calm. They had had a long talk earlier that morning…
Three hours earlierJim stood back and watched as Bobby and John adjusted their ties and squirmed uncomfortably in their jackets. Hunters weren't normally given to wearing 'monkey suits' as Bobby had growled about earlier in the day, but these particular hunters were different… special… they would do anything they had to to get the beloved Winchester Boys back safely under John's care.
"Now, remember, John," Jim began, eliciting a glare from the man as Jim's voice was merely a reminder to him that Jim didn't have to wear a suit as a pastor. He chuckled in spite of himself, but forced a seriousness into his voice to get his point across. "Whatever happens in there, whatever is said – whether it's true or not – you have to stay calm, okay? I know you want to throttle that woman, but you have to stay calm. No shouting, no yelling, and try not to be too visible with whatever you're feeling. Feel free to smile at your boys, get emotional, whatever… but do NOT express any of your anger okay?"
"What about when I give my statement?" John asked, gritting his teeth and he pulled his tie off for the eighth time.
"Feel free to say 'I was angry when…', or something to that effect, but don't raise your voice and no hunters language," Jim instructed. "Nothing that you wouldn't say to your own mother."
"What hunters language?" John asked.
"Yeah," Bobby added, eyeing the pastor carefully.
Jim chuckled again.
"You hunters aren't exactly the most polite creatures I've ever come across," Jim responded innocently, his tone knowing. "Just watch the language, boys, okay? If you feel yourself getting angry, try closing your eyes and counting to ten… if it's during your testimony or the judge is asking you a question, then keep your eyes open and count quickly, okay?"
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Present
Miss Dogden sat in the seat directly across from John and smiled at him. John looked down at his hands and closed his eyes, counting to ten slowly since he knew he had time. When he finally opened his eyes he glanced at the woman sitting next to Miss Dogden. He wasn't sure who that was and glanced at Jim.
Jim shrugged, but a voice from further down the table answered their question.
"Miss Rose, nice to see you again," Westerly spoke up, offering the lady a smile. She smiled warmly back at him.
"Nice to see you, doctor," she agreed. "How's the patient?"
"He's doing just fine," Westerly assured her. "I checked up on him last night, he's looking a lot better…"
"Good," Miss Rose nodded. She turned away from Westerly and gazed at the file in front of her. John had a feeling that there was something on the woman's mind, but he couldn't swear to it. Somehow she was managing to block his usual ability to read the people around him.
He wasn't sure he trusted her.
The door behind the judges seat opened and a woman in a nice business suit walked in. She had dark skin, dark curly hair that she kept cropped short, and the brownest eyes John had ever seen. He imagined that when she smiled or laughed they would light up and sparkle, but right now they seemed cold and angry. She sat down, followed by a woman sitting at a seat that had a tiny typewriter… John had seen people like her in the movies, she was some sort of scribe who would take down every word that was said.
"Welcome one and all, my name is Judge Bridges," she greeted them. "I wish we could be meeting under better circumstances, but I guess this will have to do… now, first of all I would like to say that any case of child abuse is disturbing to say the least, and if it weren't for the fact that I am trying to help abused kids, I would really hate my job… I deal with people day in and day out that can only be described as the scum of the earth…"
She glared at no one in particular, but John swallowed a guilt that he didn't know he carried. He had a terrible feeling that this case was already going badly.
"Now, I've read testimony's from numerous people from this table, reports of different types – including one extremely hard to read police report that I would have been happier going the rest of my life without ever having read – and I must say, I'm already disturbed about what I see happening here…" Bridges announced. John grimaced inwardly, knowing that the hard to read police report must have been about Sammy. He swallowed again, feeling the tears building up at the back of his throat with the bile that had insisted on sitting there painfully. "I'll get to all of that, but first I'm going to say one more thing."
Bridges took a deep breath, still not looking at anyone in particular when she continued.
"Abuse of ANY kind is incomprehensible to me," she announced, anger clear in her voice. "And the behaviour of some of the people at this table is inexcusable!"
She released the remainder of her breath and visibly composed herself.
"I'll have more to say on the matter soon enough," she announced. "I'd like to hear from our witness… Miss Dogden, I believe you have the individual who put in the original complaint here?"
Miss Dogden nodded and threw a glance at John. That smile again…
"Good, I'll hear from him first…"
John glanced at Jim as if his face held all the answers, but it didn't and he wasn't sure what he had expected…
…except to say that the person who walked through that door hadn't been on his list of possibilities.
Anger threatened to overwhelm him and he felt Jim's hand on his arm again, grateful for his friends calming presence but still wishing he could…
"Game face, John," Jim hissed at him softly. "Count to ten…"
One… two… three… John wasn't sure he would make it to ten before launching himself across the table… five… six… seven… Pain filled John's chest as he fought for composure… eight… nine… he gave up fighting for composure and instead fought to be able to hide his anger.
Ten.
SUPERNATURAL
A/N – Okay a little shorter than normal, but it only took me a little over an hour and you got another chapter to read while I work on the next one! There will be some surprises, some explosions… and… well, you'll have to read on to see… well, I guess I'll have to keep writing first, but after the writing comes the reading and hopefully, after the reading comes…
Reviews!