Chapter Two – Soccer

Dean got in the old, beat-up Chevy pick-up truck and started the engine. The Winchester's acquired it when they vanquished its previous owner after he went all zombie on them. The dead dude had no kin, so they figured they might as well make use of it. Dean had been driving illegally for a couple of years, and he needed wheels to chauffeur Sam around when Dad wasn't home. A quick forging of the pink slip and a change in the registration and Dean was set.

Sam jumped in and Dean peeled out into the street. It wasn't cool like Dad's 67 Impala, but his dad and he had made some improvements, and he was one of the lucky kids his age to have his own ride.

"Sam, you got money for lunch?"

"Yeah, but the coach is selling soccer jerseys and they're really cool."

"Soccer boy, huh? Gotta dress the part? How much ya need?"

Sam squirmed a little in his seat. "They're kinda expensive."

"How much?" Dean repeated, his eyes studying his kid brother with amusement.

"Twenty-five."

"Twenty-five!" he exclaimed. "To look like a jock?"

Dean slowed down and pulled into the school parking lot. It really wasn't far; in fact Sam had walked on occasion. Dad just always preferred Dean drive him. Dean preferred it too: safer. He reached for his wallet, pulled out his last thirty dollars and handed the bills to Sam. Well, that solves that little dilemma, work or school? Guess work wins out. Gotta bring home the bacon!

Sam beamed as he folded over the money and stashed it in his pocket. "Thanks." He jumped out of the truck and slammed the door.

"See ya at four for the big game," Dean yelled after him. "Tell the coach he either plays you or your big brother will pull a Vito Corleone on him."

Sam offered a grin and a wave before turning and walking down the pavement towards the school.

Dean steered the truck out of the parking lot, accelerated past the high school down the block and toward the heart of town. He figured there should be a few unlucky fellows down at the pool hall eager to surrender their money. Two or three hours and he could be set for the next week or two.

Unlike a lot of the poor souls he observed around town, Dean liked his work. He enjoyed pool halls and backrooms. It was what he was used to, where he grew up. It felt comfortable. He understood the people who populated those places, he could read them.

Normal people were the ones who baffled him. Why would someone want to spend all their life in an office working nine to five? Simply existing in a mundane, ordinary life? A slave to a time clock? A life like that would bore him to death. Granted, his life might kill him at a young age, but it was sure a hell of a lot more exciting!

He parked at the back door of the local pool hall and slipped inside. He immediately sized up a couple of potentials and turned on the charm.

"Howdy, fellas, you up for a little game of pool? I've been trying to get my dad to buy me a pool table so I can practice, but he thinks I should stick with chess: less need for that hand - eye coordination stuff."

These bozo college kids always fell for the dumb kid routine. His strategy was always the same, let them win a game or two and escalate the wager until they were betting their rent money. It was almost too easy… and they were the ones going to college?

Two hours earned him three hundred dollars and he thought that was a pretty good return on his time, definitely more productive than going to school. Dean opened his wallet and placed the bills inside with a satisfied smirk.

"Thanks for the lesson, guys. You must be super teachers, or maybe it was just beginner's luck. Well, anytime you want to show me a new trick just give me a call." He laid on all his charm, smiling sincerely the entire time. "What'd you say you were studying at school? Psychology? Huh, bet you're a master at that!"

It was now well past noon. My how time flies when you're enjoying yourself he mused. He was beginning to get hungry so he swung by his favorite diner.

"Hey, Dean, missed you last week. Where ya been?" June was a feisty waitress who liked to flirt with him. She'd been a real looker in her day. She was still pretty, with piercing olive eyes and soft, auburn hair, but life and all its trials had worn the softness from her face. She offered him a huge smile and a wink. "If you were a couple of years older I'd have to stake my claim to you, you handsome fella!"

Dean returned the smile with a sly wink of his own. "June, you know that would make my day. I don't see your problem with the age difference. I'm man enough for you. Afraid you can't keep up?"

June laughed a deep raucous laugh. Dean couldn't tell how old she was, probably in her forties, maybe younger. She'd lived a hard life but she still found joy in life. Dean liked her. She was one of the few females present in his life, and when he needed a female perspective, he would come down and see June. He'd known her for over a year, ever since they first moved to town. In the beginning, it looked like she had an interest in his father. John liked her, but somehow he still felt married after all these years; the man still wore his wedding band, never taking it off. Dean didn't think he'd ever get over losing Mom, and he understood because he felt the same way.

His favorite booth was open so he slid in and ordered a cheeseburger and a beer. June laughed at his game and brought him a cola which he accepted with a slight huff. She sat with him on her break and they had a nice conversation, nothing important or deep, just friends casually enjoying each other's company. He liked talking to her, it was easy. She sincerely laughed at all his jokes and told him he was handsome and bright and clever. He almost believed it when she said it, her being the honest sort averse to lying. Something in her eyes and how she treated him made him want to believe that he was all the things she said he was.

He sometimes wondered if this is what it would be like to have a mom around. He didn't dwell on the thought, didn't really see her as the motherly type, especially since they were always flirting with each other, but the tone of her voice and the concern in her eyes made him feel good in her company.

He hung around downtown for a few more hours, and then he headed over to Sam's soccer game. Since the middle school didn't have any fields they played at the high school next door. He arrived just before the game started and made his way into the stands, sitting near the middle of the field, all the way to the top so he could lean back against the chain link enclosure.

"Missed you in Algebra today, Dean Winchester."

The voice startled him and when he looked up it was Stacy Wheaton smiling at him. She was a transfer student this year. She was strikingly pretty with large, expressive eyes and a smile that could light up the sky. Her long blond hair fell in loose waves just below her shoulders. Dean had definitely noticed her before, but she was way out of his league. She was smart and athletic, and was a star on the girl's soccer team. He'd never spoken more than a soft 'hi' to her in passing in the three months since she'd moved here. Since he rarely went to class, he'd not had much opportunity. It shocked him that she even knew his name.

"Yeah? Well I had more pressing plans for my day."

"You miss a lot of school. Don't you like school? Or are you just a rebel without a cause?"

He smiled. He had a cause; he just couldn't explain it to Stacy. She was sassy and he liked that. She also knew her film references, and he liked that too.

"Oh, I got a cause, but if I told you I'd have to kill you."

Now it was her turn to smile.

Dean had always found it difficult talking to kids his own age, especially girls. He was good at talking to adults; he had lots of experience with that. He learned at a young age to weave a tale that any adult would believe; whether it was explaining away his father's absence or coercing information from a lead.

Girls were another matter. Barmaids and waitresses at the dives his father took him to all indicated what a handsome and desirable young man he was. June wasn't the first woman to flirt with him, but he still felt shy and tongue-tied around regular girls his own age. He could banter and flirt with older women because that was a game, a role he played to get information. He knew it wasn't real and would never amount to anything.

"So, you a big soccer fan? Why don't you play sports? You look like you could handle it," Stacy inquired with the undertone of a challenge.

"Don't really have time for sports. Remember? Those pressing plans? They keep me pretty busy." Dean smirked and relaxed just a little before relenting and offering a genuine answer as he nodded toward the field. "My kid brother's playing."

"Really?" She genuinely seemed interested as she sat down beside him observing the field. "Which one is he?"

"The one on the bench," Dean drolly replied. "Number 14. Guess I'm gonna have to make that coach an offer he can't refuse."

Stacy smiled again.

A sly smirk emerged on his face as he wondered if she actually found him clever and smart. He had no real experience in gauging how well this was going. Since he rarely went to class, he had few school friends: well, none actually. It had become apparent to him when he was still a child that it was better to keep your distance from people than deal with all their questions. He couldn't exactly invite casual acquaintances over to the house, and he'd never let anyone get close enough to become more. It was too dangerous to the family, what if they opened a drawer or closet and discovered the armory in his home? How exactly would they explain that away?

Besides, he didn't associate with kids his own age, precisely because that's just what they were… kids. He had nothing in common with them and he really couldn't relate to them. On the rare occasions when he was drawn into conversations with some of them, it blew his mind how oblivious they were. They worried about borrowing the car from their folks, or who was dating who, and if the football team would win on Friday night; all stuff that in the grand scheme of things didn't mean squat.

How could they understand the evil that exists in this world? How could they possibly comprehend his life? How he'd torched his first evil remains when he was eleven and participated in his first exorcism at twelve. And yeah, they would really want to know about the first evil entity he'd destroyed, or the second or third. He was beginning to think he was foolish to even be trying to talk to Stacy, yet something about her intrigued him; he thought maybe she was different. He didn't know what it was, but he liked her.

"Your brother's lucky to have his own private goon to rough up his enemies."

"Y' think?"

"Yeah, I do." She smiled then, warm and sincere, her eyes looking into his like she really saw him before she broke the connection and glanced away, appearing just the tiniest bit shy. "I wish I had a protector like that."

Dean smiled and quirked his head, his eyes glimmering as he watched her. "I bet there are lots of guys at school that would trip all over themselves to be your protector."

"Maybe," she honestly replied. "I just don't feel like I belong there, y' know? I guess I still feel like an outsider. Everyone is nice enough… I guess it's just me. I don't fit."

His eyes studied her, wondering what she saw when she looked in the mirror because she sure seemed to fit to him. He thought she fit just fine. "Why would you say that? You look pretty normal to me. What's so different about you? Why wouldn't you fit?"

"Army brat. Been all around the world with my dad. I've seen a lot of stuff that kids just don't get." She turned and looked deep into his eyes, intent and serious, so not like the high school girls he'd known. "There's a lot of bad things going on in this world, Dean, and kids here just think about high school stuff. I don't want to put anyone down… I guess I just see things differently. Dad's an army doctor and we've been helping out in some of the worse off countries you can think of. Kind of changes your perspective."

Dean's eyes flickered in understanding. "Yeah, I see what you mean. So, just you and your dad?"

"Yeah, Mom died when I was little, so it's just Dad and me."

Dean felt an instant connection to her. Maybe there were kids out there that he could relate to. Probably not too many that were into the whole chasing evil and vanquishing demons scene, but heck, this was kinda close. At least she knew there were larger problems in the world than how school went that day. And she'd lost her mom too.

"So, Dean. What's your story?"

"What?" he blurted out, her insight and directness catching him off-guard.

She smiled as she observed him, her eyes narrowing to take him in. "I don't know, haven't quite figured you out, but I kind of feel a connection to you. Somehow I feel like there's more to you than meets the eye." Her eyes were a brilliant blue and he almost felt himself getting lost in her gaze, wondering what that would be like. She continued on with a slight smile. "Maybe that's it. You have really beautiful eyes, yet there's a darkness there… kind of a sadness. I always get the feeling there's something really deep going on with you. You just seem more worldly than the other boys in class."

Dean knew he couldn't tell her the truth, she'd never be ready for that, but all of a sudden he realized he was talking to her like he talked to adults. She wasn't just a high school girl; she'd seen the world and knew it wasn't all pretty and perfect. Maybe this was a girl his age he could talk to, so he did.

Probably it was a good thing Sam got into the game for only ten minutes. They stopped talking and watched him as he ran around the field, almost making a goal before he was benched again as the starter took back his position. As soon as he was safely back with the reserves, Dean resumed his chat with Stacy. The shocking thing was he felt comfortable talking with her, all worry over what to say and how to say it disappearing as he relaxed into a real conversation. They talked for almost two hours. They continued talking even after the game was over and weren't interrupted until Sam came up. Dean introduced his brother to Stacy, and then it was Sam's turn to be tongue-tied. He kept staring at Dean and then at Stacy. He'd never seen his brother like this. He could tell he liked this girl.