Raising Winchesters

Chapter 7

The next few years were hard on all three Winchesters. It was also hard on the people that cared for the little family. Pastor Jim and Missouri Mosely couldn't do anything but watch as John became more and more obsessed with the hunt. They watched as it slowly took over the man's life. And they watched as John's obsession eventually led to him turning his oldest son into a soldier in the war against evil.

By the age of seven, John had already started training his oldest son, much to the dismay of Jim Murphy. Dean had already shown himself to be particularly adept at handling a gun, bulls-eyeing every single target the first time John took him shooting. From that point on, John spent a portion of every day teaching Dean various hunting skills- from physical sparring to knife throwing to picking locks to escaping various restraints. Dean was a quick learner and seemed to enjoy the training, but Jim was worried that the child's normal development was lacking.

Whenever John needed to leave the boys to go off on a hunt, he would take the boys to Blue Earth and leave them with Jim. Jim would take that time to work on nurturing the boys' social, emotional, and cognitive development. In his opinion, they were severely lacking in these areas.

While Dean had started school when he was five, the constant moving from place to place had definitely impacted his education. Dean was one of the smartest kids Jim had ever known, but he struggled to read and write and his speech development was lacking. The boy barely spoke unless spoken to, unless he was talking to Sammy. When he did speak, his speech was hesitant and his grammar was poor.

Jim spent hours with the boy- reading to him, listening to him read, and watching as he wrote out his ABCs. He practiced simple math with Dean and encouraged him to use his imagination. Dean was tentative and shy at first, but eventually the boy seemed to thrive under Jim's tutelage. Unfortunately, the boy would suffer a setback every time John took them out on the road again.

By the time Dean was in the first grade, John was already getting letters home and calls from the school on an almost weekly basis. Deep down, he knew that their nomadic way of life was wreaking havoc on his sons, but he couldn't bring himself to stop hunting. He and Jim Murphy argued quite extensively on that subject.

For the most part, John didn't get too upset about the letters and calls from Dean's teachers. Usually, they would just be informing him that Dean had gotten into trouble for not paying attention or for not finishing his work. Occasionally, the boy would get in trouble for letting a word slip out of his mouth that he had undoubtedly heard from his father or one of the other hunters that occasionally hung out in whatever motel room they were staying in.

They were never in a place long enough for the teachers to become overly concerned about Dean's actions, though. Until the boy started getting into fights….

It started with minor scuffles on the playground, easily stopped by whatever teacher was on playground duty. Dean often found himself sitting on the time-out bench during recess or standing in a corner in his classroom. Eventually, though, it escalated into more intense altercations that eventually led to someone getting hurt. Dean, of course, had an unfair advantage over the other kids at his school, even at the young age of seven. John was training him almost daily in the arts of self-defense and Dean picked up on the techniques easily. On more than one occasion, John had been called to the office because Dean had knocked another kid to the ground.

John wasn't worried that his son was becoming a bully, because each time it happened, the teachers admitted that his son had been provoked. Not that it really mattered to John one way or the other, but it apparently mattered to the staff of whatever school his son was attending. More often than not, Dean was merely protecting some other student from the schoolyard bully, and while this made John rather proud of his son, he definitely didn't like the amount of attention it was bringing to Dean.

When he had been called to meet with the principal for the third time in as many weeks, John finally realized that they had a problem.

John didn't give much thought to how the staff at Dean's schools perceived him. As far as he was concerned, they were there for one reason only….to teach his son to read and write. In his mind, they had no right to judge him on what kind of father he was to his boys. He didn't have to defend himself to them or prove to them that he loved his boys.

Of course, they saw things differently. What they saw was a father that often times ignored phone calls and letters that were sent home. They saw a father that didn't make sure his child had a well-balanced lunch every day or wore clothes that fit him properly. They saw a father that didn't make sure his son's homework was done or that his reading log had been filled out. He knew that they looked down on him for these things, but he couldn't bring himself to care when there were so many more important things to think about.

If they knew that he had been out all night trailing and disposing of a werewolf or a vengeful spirit, they would understand why Dean's lunch consisted of a hastily made cheese sandwich and a soda. If they knew that he had spent weeks taking down a nest of vampires, they would understand why Dean's pants were too short and his shirts had holes in them. And if they knew about the two weeks he had spent in bed after nearly being killed by a Rawhead, they would understand why Dean had dark circles underneath his eyes.

He was doing the best he could under the circumstances. Or at least he kept telling himself that.

But, now he found himself walking into another school for a meeting with another principal about another fight his son had gotten into. He could feel the anger settling in his bones as he tried to prepare himself for the judgment and labeling that was about to happen. He knew they thought he was a bad father and while he really didn't care what they thought, he was tired of it all the same.

When he entered the office of the Lindale Elementary school, Sam's small body tucked tightly onto his hip, John immediately saw the small form of his seven-year-old son, sitting on a bench against the wall. Dean was kicking his feet back and forth as he stared down at his shoes. John watched the boy for several long seconds, taking in the fact that Dean's pants had holes in the knees and frayed hems and that his shirt sleeves were about two inches too short for him. He also noticed that Dean's shoes looked like they were awfully tight.

Clearing his throat loudly, he nearly laughed at the way Dean's head shot up immediately, obviously surprised by the sight of his dad standing there with a sleeping Sam cradled against his chest. John didn't feel like laughing, though, when he saw the soon-to-be shiner that was Dean's right eye and traces of what was probably a bloody nose evident, as well. Stepping forward to his son, he immediately cupped the boy's chin in his hand and brought his face up more so he could see it better.

"Are you okay?" he asked in an uncharacteristic softness.

"Yes, sir," Dean mumbled quietly.

Before John could say anything else, the secretary returned from the back office and greeted him.

"Hi. Can I help you?"

"Hi," he answered in a gravelly voice. "I'm Dean's father, John Winchester."

"Of course," the woman said. "It seems that Dean has gotten himself into a little bit of trouble, Mr. Winchester."

"I gathered that by the fact that I was asked to come in for a meeting with the principal," he practically snarled, annoyed by the woman's sanctimonious attitude.

The woman took a small step back from the counter, obviously not expecting John's brashness. "Well, Mr. Winchester, let me tell Mr. Coleman that you're here. I'm sure he's anxious to talk to you."

"I'm sure he is," John muttered under his breath as the woman walked away. Turning his attention back to his son, he didn't miss the way Dean was looking at him nervously. He didn't have time to say anything more, though, because seconds later, the woman was back and was ushering the two of them through the office door.

When they entered the small office, the principal stood up from his desk and walked around to shake John's hand. "Mr. Winchester, my name is Dan Coleman. I'm the principal here at Lindale Elementary. Please have a seat."

After shaking the man's hand, John sat down in the nearest chair, settling Sam with a few rubs to the back when the boy started to wake. Dean sat down in the chair next to his dad. John couldn't help but notice how small his son looked in the oversized chair.

"Mr. Winchester, I'm really sorry to have to pull you away from your job today. I'm sure you're a busy man." When John didn't answer the man, he continued, gesturing at Dean in the process. "I'm sure you've already deduced the reason I've called you in. Dean was involved in an altercation with three other students today."

"Three other students?!" John asked as he looked back at his son.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. And as you are probably aware, we do not condone violence in this school. This is a very serious offense, Mr. Winchester."

"What happened?" John asked simply.

"We're not really sure and none of the boys have been very forthcoming with how this all started. All we know is that sometime during the morning recess, Dean and these three other boys started fighting. They were on the side of the school, out of sight, so it took the Duty Teacher a few minutes to notice that the fight was going on. She immediately called for help and they were able to pull the boys apart. But not before several of the boys were injured."

"Injured, how?" John asked.

Mr. Coleman threw a look down at Dean before continuing. "Well, one of the boys has a shiner to match your son's and another one has a fat lip and a bloody nose. The third boy is a little worse for wear. It seems that Dean was able to plant a very well-placed kick to his groin, followed by a punch that left a laceration above his eye. He also lost a front tooth from another punch."

John looked over at Dean who was squirming in his chair. "So, you think Dean did all that by himself?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, we do."

John suddenly wondered just who the "we" was the man kept referencing.

"Mr. Coleman, it looks like Dean came out of this fairly unscathed, but you're obviously trying to tell me that he took on all three of these boys by himself?" Sam started to show signs of waking up again and John immediately started rubbing his back, hoping to keep the kid asleep a little longer.

"Yes. I know it doesn't seem possible, especially when you realize that these three boys are fourth-graders, but that is what we believed happened. Of course, like I said, none of the boys are talking."

John turned his attention to his son. "Dean? Is that what happened?" When Dean didn't answer, John felt his anger rising. "Dean? I asked you a question, son," he said in a loud, no-nonsense voice, obviously expecting an answer. Sam opened his eyes and looked around, obviously trying to figure out where they were and why his daddy was yelling.

"Yes, sir," Dean replied quietly.

John and the principal shared a shocked look at his answer, but John quickly turned his attention back to Dean. Before he could say anything, Sam noticed that his brother was sitting next to him. "Dee!" HE yelled excitedly as he struggled to climb out of John's lap. John held onto him for several seconds, but eventually realized he was fighting a losing battle. Nothing could keep his boys apart from each other.

Sam climbed up into his brother's lap, accidentally elbowing him in the chest as he tried to settle himself. "Ow, Sammy," Dean cried out. "Watch out for your bony elbows!"

"Sowwy, Dee," Sam said as he settled against his brother, his fingers coming up to curl at the hair at the back of Dean's neck. "I didn't mean to."

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean answered with a small smile. For some reason, Sam found it calming and reassuring to play with his brother's hair and Dean wouldn't ever admit it, but he didn't mind it at all. It had the same effect on him.

Once John realized that the boys were settled, he brought Dean's attention back to the reason they were there. "Dean, what were you boys fighting about?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, slumping down into the chair as he continued to stare down at his hands.

"A shrug isn't an answer, Dean, and you know that. Now sit up and tell me what happened."

"Dad…." Dean begged.

"Now, Dean!"

Dean sat up straighter in the chair, pulling Sam closer into his chest, and looked at his father. "I saw them go around to the side of the building and Teddy was with them. They're always picking on him, so I wanted to make sure he was okay. But, he wasn't, Dad. When I found them, they were pushing him around and he was crying. I grabbed his arm and pulled him away and told him to run."

"And?"

Dean looked nervously at his dad. "Then I punched Eric. He's always the one that starts it and he always gets away with it. Beth says it's because his dad's rich."

When Dean didn't continue right away, John cleared his throat loudly. Dean's eyes shot back up to his dad and continued. "I don't really know what happened after that. They all started hitting me and I just started fighting back, I guess. Then Miss Moran and Mr. Simpson were there and it was all over."

John could tell by the way Dean was fidgeting that he was leaving something out. "And that's it? Nothing else happened? You just started punching them?"

Dean hesitated for a second, confirming what John was thinking. Before the boy could respond, John continued. "You know how I feel about lying, Dean. Now, tell me what caused you to go all Chuck Norris on those boys."

John noticed that Dean couldn't help but smile at the mention of his favorite action star. He also noticed that they boy was weighing the decision of how truthful he needed to be. Hoping to swing the boy in the right direction, John quickly addressed him again. "Remember what happened the last time you lied to me, Dean? That didn't turn out to well for you, did it, son?"

Dean's face flushed at the reminder of the spanking John had given him two weeks before when Dean lied to him about how Jim's lamp ended up broken. He was in no hurry to repeat that particular punishment, that was for sure. Looking at the desk in front of him, he finally continued.

"Eric was making fun of me," he said miserably. "He was laughing at my clothes and they all started calling me Second Hand Dean. And Eric…"

"Eric, what?" John asked when Dean hesitated.

"Dad, do I have to?" Dean pleaded.

"Yes, Dean. You do."

After another long hesitation in which John was visibly growing annoyed, Dean finally continued. "Eric said that, uh…..that my mom was, um…..that she was too lazy and stupid to buy me clothes that fit." Dean quickly wiped the tear away that was escaping down his cheek, hoping that no one had noticed it. Of course, everyone in the room had noticed, including Sam, who looked to be on the verge of crying himself.

"Dean…." John said quietly.

"I hate them, Dad! They shouldn't have said that about h-her."

"No, they shouldn't have," John agreed. "But, son….they didn't know that Mom was gone. And they were just being stupid."

"Yeah? Well, they won't mess with me anymore."

John didn't know what else to say. He wanted to strangle the three boys himself, especially that Eric kid, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. Maybe the fact that a second-grader beat them up would be enough to make them rethink their bullying ways. And maybe it wouldn't. Either way, he couldn't blame Dean for doing what he did.

He did, however, need to remind the boy that it wasn't fair to fight someone who wasn't in the same league as him, unless it was in self-defense. Those boys had no idea who they were messing with when they messed with Dean Winchester.

John finally turned to Mr. Coleman, wondering what the plan was now that the truth was out. Mr. Coleman was watching the two closely, but his face was hard for John to read. Eventually, the man spoke.

"Thank you, Dean, for telling us the truth about what happened. I will be talking to Eric, Michael, and Shane about everything and I can assure you that they will be punished." Turning back to John, the man continued. "With that being said, I have to remind you that this school has a zero tolerance policy on fighting. I'm afraid Dean will have to be punished, too."

Dean slumped even further in his chair at the principal's words, thinking that it all was extremely unfair. Sam continued to play with his brother's hair, his eyes filling up with tears, and his bottom lip trembling. He could tell that Dean was sad and he wanted to make his brother feel better.

"Dee?" Sam said as he repositioned himself in the chair. Dean was once again assaulted by Sam's bony elbows, but before he could really say anything, Sam pulled something out of his pocket and held it up. "Don't cry, Dee. 'Kay? You can have my candy."

Dean realized that Sam was holding up a piece of butterscotch candy, which happened to be his favorite. Unfortunately, it was covered in lint from Sam's pocket. "Thanks, Sammy, but I'm not hungry right now. Maybe later, okay?"

Sam looked seriously at his brother as he put the candy back in his pocket. "Okay, Dee. I'll save it for you."

John and Mr. Coleman had been watching the two boys and once Sam was settled again, they returned to the matter at hand.

"And what kind of punishment are we talking about, Mr. Coleman."

Mr. Coleman looked somewhat nervously at the man before him. "Our school policy, as you should know if you read our handbook, is corporal punishment for all incidents of fighting and violence, Mr. Winchester."

"What does that mean?" Dean asked before John could say anything.

Mr. Coleman turned to address Dean. "It means a paddling, Dean. Eric, Michael, and Shane will be receiving the same."

Dean's eyes widened and he looked frantically at his father. John, who obviously hadn't read the school handbook, seemed just as surprised as his son.

"That's actually allowed here?" he asked. "I thought corporal punishment was banned in schools now."

"There are some states that have banned it, Mr. Winchester, but not Texas. However, it is used only for the severest of situations like fighting."

"Dad, please…." Dean begged. Sam, who immediately picked up on his brother's distress, suddenly started crying.

John suddenly found himself with a headache. He didn't say anything at first, but eventually his senses came back to him. "What other punishment is there, Mr. Coleman?" he finally asked.

"Well, if you decide to waive the paddling, I'm afraid Dean will have to be suspended. That, of course, will go on his permanent record."

"Permanent record? He's in the second grade," John laughed, thinking the man and his school's policies were absurd.

"Well, we wouldn't want Dean to get a reputation, now would we?" the man said. "A paddling is the most effective way to correct the behavior, in my opinion. A suspension only allows the child to laze about at home and get behind in his school work. I don't think that really teaches the child anything, do you?"

While John was no stranger to spanking his son's backside, he was pretty sure that he didn't want the man standing before him to do it. Or anyone else at the school, for that matter. He had been paddled at school once when he was a child and it was something that he never forgot. In his opinion, a spanking should be carried out by someone the child knew and trusted, not some stranger.

"What if I'm the one that paddles him?" John asked. "After all, he's my son."

Dean started to protest again, but John silenced him with a single look.

"I'm afraid that's against our policy, Mr. Winchester. If you want to paddle him again once you're home, that's your business, of course. But, school policy dictates that corporal punishment has to be carried out by a verified, trained staff member."

John was about two seconds away from telling the annoying man in front of him just where he could stick his school policy. Fortunately, one look over to his sons brought him back into focus.

"Dean is my son, Mr. Coleman, and if anyone is going to paddle his backside, it will be me. So, I guess that means he's suspended." John looked over at Dean and noticed his immediate relaxation. He also noticed that the boy had somehow gotten his brother to stop crying.

"Very well, then," Mr. Coleman said. "Dean will be suspended for one week. When he returns, he will be expected to present a letter of apology to Eric, Michael, and Shane for his actions."

Before the man could continue, Dean shot to his feet, nearly knocking his little brother to the ground in the process. "What?! That's not fair! I'm not going to apologize to them!"

"Dean!" John barked.

"I'm not, Dad. That's bullshit!'

Mr. Coleman looked taken aback by Dean's choice of words. John, on the other hand, just looked furious. Stepping over to his son, he turned the boy to the side and landed a hard smack to his backside. Dean yelped in surprise and Sam immediately started crying again.

"We've talked about that mouth of yours, Dean. Do you need a longer reminder of what's expected of you?"

"No, sir," Dean answered. "Sorry."

Mr. Coleman, who still looked shocked by the turn of events, looked back at Dean. "Dean, if you had let me finish, I would have told you that all three of the other boys would be writing letters of apologies to you and to Teddy, as well. All four of you were in the wrong for resorting to violence to address your issues and fighting will not be tolerated here at Lindale Elementary. Coarse language will not be tolerated, either. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, then. I think we're done here unless you have any questions, Mr. Winchester."

John reached out to shake the man's hands, more than ready to get out of the small office. "Thank you, Mr. Coleman. I can assure you that Dean has learned his lesson." John, of course, didn't think for one minute that Dean's fighting days were over. He knew there would be many more trips to principal's offices in his future. Just not this one. Dean was suspended for a week and they would be moving on within that time anyway. Mr. Coleman didn't need to know that, though.

Dean picked Sam up and settled him on his hip before turning towards the door. He was stopped by John's firm grip on his shoulder. "I think you have something to say to Mr. Coleman, Dean."

Dean almost rolled his eyes, but quickly stopped himself. He knew what was expected of him, so he turned back to his principal. "I'm sorry for fighting, Mr. Coleman. I shouldn't have done that."

"Thank you, Dean. Please try to remember that the next time you find yourself in such a situation."

"Yes, sir."

Without another word, John gently grabbed Dean by the shoulder and led him out of the room.

Dean was quiet on the trip back to the motel, but John noticed that he kept sneaking looks at him. Once they were back in the motel, John settled Sam at the small table with a snack and his crayons and coloring book. Dean had followed them to the table, but he didn't sit down. Instead, he continued to watch his dad surreptitiously. Eventually, John took pity on the boy.

"Do you want a snack, Dean?" he asked.

"No, thank you," Dean answered quietly.

"Why don't you go see what's on the television?"

Dean didn't move from where he was standing. He just watched as his dad made himself a cup of coffee and grabbed a stale donut from the box on the table. John sat down at the table, pulling some of his research closer to him, but after several minutes, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Dean, why are you just standing there?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders.

"I think I've already had to talk to you once today about shrugging your shoulders instead of giving me a verbal answer. I'm not having that talk with you again. Understand?"

Dean nodded, but quickly followed it with a "yes, sir."

"Okay, then…. Why are you just standing there?"

"Are you going to…. to…you know?

"Am I going to what?" John asked, clearly annoyed by the boy's hedging.

"Are you going to p-paddle me?"

"Why would you think that, Dean?"

"Because you offered to do it in Mr. Coleman's office. I just figured that meant you were going to do it once we got home."

John didn't know how to explain to the boy that he never had any intention of paddling him. While he didn't appreciate the attention Dean's fight brought to them, he couldn't blame the boy for losing control like he did. Those three boys had been extremely unkind to his son and there was a part of him that thought they got what they deserved. And while he was proud of Dean for being able to dole out such an ass-kicking to three boys that were bigger than him, he knew he needed to talk to him about the need to fight only in self-defense. It wouldn't do for Dean to grow use to fighting someone every time his feelings got hurt.

"I'm not going to spank you, son. I understand why you did what you did and I'm sorry those boys said what they said. You and I do need to have a talk about fighting, though, okay? There's a time and a place for it, Dean, and you're going to need to learn to control yourself."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, we'll talk about it after Sammy goes to bed. For now, why don't you grab a glass of milk and a donut and see what's on TV. I bet you can find a Chuck Norris movie.

Dean did as his father said and when John checked on him an hour later, he wasn't surprised to see him watching Delta Force. Dean had a silly grin on his face as he watched the Chuck Norris movie.

"Hey, Dean…. wanna hear a joke?"

When Dean turned his attention away from the television, John continued. "Why does Chuck Norris sleep with a night light?"

"Because he's afraid of the dark?" Dean suggested. "But that's stupid, Dad. Chuck Norris isn't afraid of anything."

"That's not the answer, Dean. Chuck Norris sleeps with a night light because the dark is afraid of him!"

John reveled in the sound of Dean's laughter filling the small room. Later, he would have his talk with Dean about fighting. But for now, he was content to just sit back and watch a movie with his son.

Author's note: I'm so sorry for the long wait. The holiday season has been keeping me super busy, but I promise I'll get back to a more normal posting schedule afterwards.

Please let me know what you think of the chapter. And thank you so much for reading. Merry Christmas to all who celebrate it.