Caleb stalled returning home after his meeting with CPS had concluded. He couldn't bear to see the look on the kid's faces when he sat them down and informed them that the lady honestly thought he was abusing the two of them. It was ridiculous, ludicrous, even to him, and he couldn't imagine how a thirteen and nine-year-old would react, when he himself was panicking.
But he had no other choice.
CPS was gunning to interview the boys that afternoon, and if he was going to further his chances of having this go away peacefully, he would need to coach them a little in what to say to them, and how to say it. Dean would be far easier to coach than Sam would. Dean knew more about what would be expected of him and would have the quick answer needed. After all, Dean had grown up hearing how important it was that the truth be masked.
Sam would be more difficult. It had been their (foolish) mistake to raise him with the belief that lying was bad, and would pass down punishment whenever he was caught in a fib. For nine years, he had been raised to know that lying wasn't good, and now Caleb would have the enormous task of trying to make him understand that while these people were only trying to help he and his brother, it wouldn't be in their best interests to tell them the truth.
The boys would be vulnerable if they were taken now. YED could use that separation as an advantage to get to the boys again. And this time if they were placed in the custody of the state, there wouldn't be any of the wards or sigils to protect them from harm, or Caleb or Bobby to love them and make sure they were safe.
The bar had been raised impossibly high. Why couldn't these people leave his family alone? Why did they have to make bogus charges now? Especially when they were all still on edge after the YED had started stalking Sam. While those times had been few and far between, they had no idea when or how he would strike.
Not surprisingly when he finally pulled into the garage, Dean was waiting right inside the house to no doubt interrogate him about what the lady said. If only he knew how bad it was looking, what this woman was implying, and the evidence she had in her arsenal to back up her claims.
"What happened?" Dean demanded, as soon as he had stepped foot through the door.
"A lot" he said, as he walked past him to sit on their sectional sofa in the living room. "She said a lot, Dean."
"Like what?" Dean asked, as he sat down next to him. "How bad?"
"I don't know yet. She's not willing to let this drop, though. This afternoon, she wants to interview you and Sam."
"She...does?"
Caleb nodded, running a hand over his face in complete exhaustion. "Yeah. So the problem that we have now, is figuring out how we are supposed to even try to explain away the bruises that you have on your arm," he said, gesturing to the bruises on Dean's arm that had already begun the process of healing.
"Is that her argument?" Dean said incredulously, as he looked down at his arm that had been battered by the spirit they had taken on. "That I have stupid bruises on my arm?"
That was reaching, and even he knew that.
"It could mean a lot for someone that's not in the know like we are," Caleb explained. "That combined with other things, have really made them take a look inside our family, and we have to do everything on our end to make this go away."
"But kids get bruises-"
"Yes," Caleb conceded, "but it's how serious the bruises are, that's in question. According to her, they should have been seen by a doctor."
"Yeah, but you know what you're talking about," Dean pointed out. "And you told me they weren't bad, and they would heal."
"Yeah, I knew that because in our line of work, I've seen bruises and cuts a thousand times more serious than those ones. But it's a question of why you weren't seen," Caleb said, dreading his next words to Dean, "and it's a question of how you got them."
"How?" Dean asked slowly, as though he was trying to connect the dots that Caleb had spilled, but not entirely believing it, either. "What is she trying to say, Caleb?"
"That I hit you, basically."
Dean shook his head, raising his fingers to wipe the tears that he could feel coming out of his eyes. If they weren't being hounded by a demonic force that seemed intent on making sure their lives were a living hell, then they were being hounded by a human enemy, one that had the power of causing serious damage.
"Is she stupid?"
The thought had honestly crossed his mind more than once, but hearing from Caleb that she was investigating him for abuse was as laughable as it was horrifying.
"She's trying to do her job," Caleb said, trying to stay calm for Dean's sake. "As horrible as it is for us, she has an obligation to investigate claims made like this."
"And who made them?"
"Your school."
"Well, I'm never going back there," Dean said with a furious scoff. "How could they-"
"You and Sam have both been absent several times the last few months, and even though I tried to explain why, it didn't seem to make a difference to her."
That in itself hadn't been a huge problem, it was when the school had combined their absences with the bruises on Dean, that had raised a question mark in their eyes, and had created yet another firestorm in their family.
"So," Dean said with a sigh, "how are we supposed to explain away the bruises?"
"I can't do that for you," Caleb said, shaking his head. "I wish I could."
"What do you mean?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows in question.
"Someone from CPS is coming this afternoon, and they made it clear that they needed to talk to you both privately."
"Without you here," Dean surmised.
"Yeah."
Having the knowledge that Caleb wouldn't be allowed to be in on the meeting with CPS, was frightening to Dean. In speaking with whoever came from their office, he was terrified of making a mistake, of saying the wrong thing and creating more hell for his family.
"What am I supposed to say to them about these bruises?"
"What do you think?" Caleb asked softly, as he gently took Dean's injured arm in his hand to examine it.
"I could tell them that I got it from sports," Dean said, watching as Caleb inspected his arm. "How does it look?"
"It looks better than it did last time I checked."
"Good."
He had gotten the bruise on a spirit hunt that he and Caleb had completed right after Jim died. It had been the first hunt they had gone on since he had died, and while they had been in the process of destroying the spirit, it had grabbed Dean's arm.
And even though it had been a quick grab, thanks to Caleb shooting it with a round of rock salt, the damage had still been done. And now they were dealing with the fallout of that hunt, even though it had been months since that job.
"I think the story you came up with sounds as good as anything," Caleb said, letting Dean's arm drop. "So now we have to talk to Sammy, and see if we can get him on board with the plan."
"Okay."
While Caleb got up to find Sam, Dean settled back against the comforting feel of the sofa and tried not to think about the meeting he had coming up with CPS. It was freaking him out to imagine having to talk to them without Caleb there to back him up, and it was making even more nervous that these were serious claims that they were investigating, and that he had to try his hardest to dispute believably.
These people weren't idiots. They would be looking for cracks, they would be analyzing him as much as they would his responses to their questions, and he hoped that whatever he did, would be enough to override what they were saying about his family.
"Hey, Sammy," he said, looking over at his little brother as he walked into the room with Caleb. "Where were you?"
"Downstairs watching TV," Sam said, as he lounged back on the couch between Caleb and Dean. "What's going on?"
Sam hadn't exactly been privy to the details of the CPS case, or why they even had to come home in the first place. Even though it had been nice to be back, it was also confusing, as he looked back and forth between Caleb and his big brother.
"There's a lady," Caleb began, "that wants to come and ask you a few questions."
"What lady?"
"She's from Child Protective Services, and right now, there are some people that are saying that I hit you and your brother."
"You don't hit us," Sam said, shaking his head, denying what Caleb was telling him.
"I know that, and so does your brother, but it's what they think that makes the difference. We have to make her believe that there isn't a problem here, Sam," Caleb said gently, "and that means that you-"
"It means you have to lie," Dean supplied bluntly. "She can't know about what we do, or how I really got my arm injury."
"But-" Sam argued, trying to see past the wall of shock that was falling down on his little shoulders. "I'm not supposed to lie. You and Jim always told us not to," he said, looking at Caleb.
"I know," Caleb said, "but people that don't know what we do, they can't understand. They really can't, and so when things like this crop up, there are questions, but we can't tell her."
"But-"
"If she asks you about anything specific, Dean's arm, or anything like that, just say that you don't know what happened, tell her that he was never hit, which is true," he added.
"So just say that I don't know?"
"Exactly."
When the lady came, the same one that had spoken with Caleb, she made a surprising request.
"I need to speak with the children separately."
"Why?" Caleb demanded.
"It's procedure," she said, avoiding directly answering the question.
Caleb knew that the "procedure" she was referring to, was making sure that their stories added up together, and it made him sick.
"Fine," he said through gritted teeth, not even believing the fact that he was being ordered around in his own home. "Sam," he said, "you want to talk to her first?"
"Yeah, sure."
Figuring it would be easier for Sam if he got his interview over with first so he wouldn't have to worry over it for hours, he and Dean went into another room, where they could still hear everything that was being said, but would be unseen by the nosy CPS worker.
"Do you think he'll be able to handle those questions?" Dean whispered.
"I hope," Caleb replied. "It's a lot to ask of a child, especially when he's not used to lying like we are, when we have to."
"I know."
"So, Sam," Diane Ward said, "are you a happy kid?"
"Yeah," Sam said with a smile, as he effortlessly made himself comfortable on the sofa. "It's great here."
Diane smiled at his enthusiasm, but she also knew that sometimes it was a mask to shield whatever secrets the walls around him held. "Do you have a lot of friends?"
Sam nodded eagerly. "Yes!"
"Tell me about them," she said, as she crossed her hands over her knees.
"Matt is my best friend. He likes playing soccer like I do. And then there's a bunch of others that like sports like we do."
"Do you play soccer a lot?"
"When I'm in school."
"And how often are you in school?"
"Not a lot lately," Sam admitted.
In the next room, Dean groaned quietly. "Sam, stop talking," he murmured, knowing that any questions that related to school or anything like that, would be bound to catch her interest.
"Why aren't you in school?"
"Um," he began uncomfortably, clearly beginning to freeze up.
"I wish he would stop talking," Dean said, knowing that this was beginning to go very wrong.
"He can't," Caleb said, "he has to answer the questions she has. I wish she would stop asking him these types of questions."
He wanted more than anything to barge in on the interview, and demand that he be present for the questioning, but that wouldn't aid his cause at all.
"It's okay," Diane said. "You can answer."
"I'm not supposed to," Sam said.
"You're not supposed to?"
"No," Sam said nervously.
Dean groaned, palming his face. "I can't believe this. Why would he say that?"
"Don't be mad at him," Caleb said quietly. "It was a lot for us to expect him to pull this off perfectly, when all his life he's been raised to do the exact opposite."
"Okay," Diane said, switching topics. "What about Caleb? Is he a good guardian?"
"Yes," Sam said without hesitation. "He's amazing."
Caleb smiled in spite of himself. At least Sam had no issue answering these questions, because he knew them to be the absolute truth.
"Does he ever get mad at you?"
"No," Sam said, shaking his head.
"Even when he punishes you?"
"He gets mad sometimes," Sam said, "but he never gets really mad, you know?"
"I do. How does he punish you?"
"When I was younger, he used to put me in the corner for a few minutes. Now, he only grounds me from stuff I love when I do something bad."
"He never spanks you or anything like that?"
"No."
"What about your brother?"
"What about him?" Sam asked, confusion clearly written across his face.
In the room with Caleb, Dean tensed.
"I saw those nasty bruises on his arm," Diane said. "Do you know anything about those?"
"No," Sam said.
"Anything at all?" she pressed. "It's important, Sam."
Caleb knew the reason she was hassling him so much about Dean's injuries, was because that was the focal point for their investigation. Without anything solid to back up her claims, she would have no basis for investigation.
"You wouldn't understand," Sam said quietly.
"What wouldn't I understand?"
"Caleb said I'm not supposed to say anything about that. You wouldn't understand."
Dean opened and then closed his mouth several times in absolute horror. To anyone on the outside, it would look like Caleb had coached Sam on what to say and what not to say. They wouldn't know that Caleb was only trying to keep the boys safe, to make sure they stayed safe with him.
And he had just blown their cover, and had shined an even brighter spotlight on Caleb.
"I can't believe that he-" Dean started to say, shaking his head as tears started burning the corners of his eyes.
"It's not his fault," Caleb said, squeezing his shoulder, his voice tight. "But right now, you need to get out there, and see what you can salvage from this interview."
"Okay."
Dean could not fathom how he was supposed to waltz into the room, and undo everything Sam had just done. It seemed like a task too big for his thirteen-year-old shoulders, but if there was one thing he knew, it was that he was not going to let his family go down without a fight.
"And in the meantime, I'm calling Dawn."
AN:
I love writing Dawn's character so much, but uh-oh for sure.
