"Are you Dean?" Diane asked, plastering a friendly, inviting smile on her face.

"Yes," Dean replied shortly, confidently placing himself on the sofa across from her.

"I'm Diane Ward, I'm from Child Protective Services. I just came here to ask you and your brother some questions," she began, clearly sensing how tense Dean was, how completely different he was from his brother in that respect.

It only made her wonder if he had seen more of the horrors in this house than his brother had, and her heart went out to him, as it did any child who she suspected was being abused.

"Great to meet you," Dean said, hoping that a well-placed smile and some niceties would be enough to make her forget her ridiculous mission.

"You too. I know all this sounds crazy, right?" she said with a laugh. "You're probably wondering why I came here to talk to you two."

"Yeah," Dean admitted, as he lounged back on the sofa. "I mean, it's crazy."

"So are you a happy kid?" she asked, starting off with the same questions that she had asked Sam.

"Yup."

"Okay, good. Do you have a lot of friends?"

"I'm selective about my friends," Dean answered, "but the ones that I do have are pretty amazing."

"I see. Do you play any sports? I know your brother mentioned something about playing soccer."

"Yeah," Dean said with a smile. "He actually made it to the playoffs last year."

"Did he really?"

Dean nodded, noticing the way that her razorâ€"sharp eyes zeroed in on his arm when he raised it to wipe something from his eyes. "Yeah, he was super stoked about it."

"That's nice. So do you play sports?"

"No, not anymore. I used to play baseball, like, when I was really young but not anymore."

Hunting had become his sport, and training and working out had become his hobby of choice, replacing what he would have done if he had actually been as involved with that kind of thing as his brother was. Of course this lady would have no way in hell of knowing that, and he wouldn't give her a reason to start prodding, either, like Sam had. He was still stunned that Sam had slipped up so badly, and had no doubt, cast another dark shadow on their beloved guardian.

The only hope either of them had now, was if Dean could carry the interview flawlessly, not that it would do much, not with what Sam had revealed to her. Trying not to let his fear show on his face, he bit down on his thumb nail to replace the look his face must have had.

"Okay. How often would you say you were in school, Dean?"

And here came the hard questions. The ones Sam had messed up so badly on.

"I'm in school as much as I can," he said, as he picked at something on his jeans, doing his best to maintain a steady eye contact with her.

"How often?" she pressed.

"I couldn't give you an exact time, but we're in school quite a bit. Like, I made the school's biggest volcano the the last time I was there. Of course, my geek brother helped me with the plaster but I pulled it off."

"Well, you see," she said calmly, "we have it down that you and your brother have both been absent over twenty times in the last three or four months."

"Yeah," Dean admitted, not bothering to deny the validity of her statements. "But our other guardian, Jim, died around then, and we were just trying to take some time off to deal."

Of course that wouldn't account for all the times recently when they had been absent, but he was hoping to dissuade her from that unwanted topic as much as humanly possibly.

"What about recently?"

"We've been sick," he lied smoothly.

"Really? And how come there was no doctor's note? The school requires that sometimes, or it's considered a truancy case."

In the brief pause between his answer, Dean could feel his heart start to beat erratically as he considered his next answer to her. Keenly aware that Caleb and Sam were on the other side of the door, he tried not to let it show on his face how uneasy he was. It would not be a stretch to see this woman taking the look on his face and misconstruing it to be a look of fear for an entirely different reason. He longed for the moment when the interview would be over, and he would have the chance to process what happened with his family.

"We didn't go," Dean said, "we just had colds, and they went away on their own with some of our home medications."

"I see."

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Is that all?" he prompted, hoping that it was, but also not foolish enough to believe it entirely.

"No. I was wondering if you could tell me what happened to your arm."

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows incredulously.

"I believe that's what I said."

"Well, you see, honey," she said, crossing over into dangerous territory. "When there are marks of that size and severity, we need to investigate and ask why they didn't receive medical attention."

"I was out playing with my friends," Dean said with a shrug. "I slipped and banged my arm on the cement, and I hid it for awhile."

"You hid it?"

"From Caleb, and our friend Bobby. Caleb didn't see it until right before you guys called, and by then, it was too late."

He was throwing out every card in his deck, hoping against hope that if he could weave as much of a lie as he could around the truth about his arm injury, that he could obliterate what Sam had told her.

"But see, your brother told me another story about your arm. Is it because you two are afraid?" she asked gently.

"No!" Dean said, resisting the urge to reach across and smack some sense into her. "If I'm afraid of anything or anyone, its you!"

"Why would you be afraid of me?"

"For trying to do what you're trying to do!"

"And what's that?"

"Taking us from Caleb!"

"Is he hitting you?" she asked, not bothering to sugarcoat the question like she was normally trained to do. "Is that why you and Sam are so nervous?"

"No!"

"Sometimes it can be accidental-"

"He has never hit us. Not accidentally, not on purpose. Never!"

Never in his life had he felt so infuriated. These people had no idea what a wonderful person Caleb was, and how amazing he was with himself and Sammy. For this woman to come into their home and make those claims against him, was hurtful and it was horrifying.

"I'll tell you what I know: Those marks on your arm are consistent with someone grabbing or hitting you. We had one of our doctors analyze the pictures, and that is the conclusion he came up with."

"Fine," Dean said, "you can believe whatever the hell you want," he said, not bothering to play nice anymore. "But he has never done anything to hurt us!"

"Thank you," she said, putting her warm front back on. "For talking to me, honey."


"Did I mess things up?" Sam asked, hovering anxiously around Caleb while he waited for Dawn to come. He had called her while Dean had been talking with the caseworker, and while she had agreed, of course, to take on the case, she warned him that she would have to gather all the files related to the case before she could come.

Now the waiting game began, and he hated it.

"No," Caleb said, without hesitation. "You didn't, Sammy. You handled her questions very well."

"Okay," he said, still clearly not sure whether he believed him or not. "Dean was really mad at me."

"He's upset," Caleb said firmly. "He knows it was an awful lot of pressure to put you under."

Sam tried to console himself with those words of comfort. Internally, he was kicking himself for messing up on the questions when he had handled things way worse than this lady. For example, he still had vivid memories of the almost nightly nightmares he had of the YED and the plans he had for him. More recently, he had been inducted into more regular training sessions with Caleb. However, the one topic he had not been trained on yet was how to talk to someone not in the know.

"Who's coming over?" He heard Caleb on the phone, and from the tone of his voice when he was speaking to this person, it was someone that was a friend.

"My attorney, Dawn."

"Oh. Is she the one who helped you out with your last case?"

Caleb nodded. "She is."

There had been a time when Dawn Michaels had saved his life from a certain trail and conviction of a false murder charge. If she could pull off that miracle, he saw no reason why she would not be able to work her magic through this, as well. It was the only hope he had, because he knew better than to believe the case would go away on its own. His luck simply did not work that way.

"Is she nice?"

"Very."

"And she's a good attorney?"

"The best."

If anyone could successfully take on a tough as nails caseworker, it would be his equally tough as nails powerhouse of an attorney, someone that he had trusted with his life when it was his own life that had been on the line, and who he would now trust to defend him against unfair and salacious claims made by an unfair CPS. His words seemed to calm Sam, who settled himself on the sofa with a quick sandwich Caleb prepared for him.

When the doorbell rang, signaling her arrival, Sam made a hasty retreat upstairs so Caleb and Dawn could converse in private. Feeling his heart hammer in his chest, he paused before opening the door. Even though he was glad to see her whenever he had the chance to have a reunion with Dawn, there was normally a crisis that warranted her presence.

This time was no different.

"Hey, girl," he said, as he reached out to give her a warm hug.

"Hey to you," she replied, as she reciprocated the hug. "I still don't understand how you manage to have these end of the world crises on your hands."

"I still don't know that, either," he said with a shaky laugh. "Thankfully I have you, though. I don't know what I'd do in these situations without you."

"Just doing my job."

"Speaking of," he said, "what's the situation with this?"

Showing her into the kitchen, he sat across from her as they sat at the dining room table.

"The claims they're making," she said, instantly switching to lawyer-mode, "are not funny."

"I gather, but how serious is this?"

"Right now, all they have are the bruise marks on Dean, and the absences. Those alone paint an incomplete picture. However, when they're bunched together, it can create a cloud of concern. Which is what we're seeing."

"Right," he said with a nod. "So what are they aiming for right now?"

"Well, the caseworker on the case, Diane Ward, is going to finish up her preliminary findings, and then submit them into evidence for a later hearing."

"What is she going to say? Or don't you know?"

"Unfortunately," she said with a tight smile. "I do know the crux of it."

"And what's that?" he asked, not liking her tone at all, and also not liking the uncomfortable look she was giving him, as though she was dreading having to answer his questions.

"The state has to follow very specific regulations when it concerns abuse and neglect claims. Right now, she knows the neglect aspect is shady, but she is gunning for first degree abuse of a child. With the possibility of adding on the neglect charge if she gets more solid proof to back her claims up."

Caleb shook his head in astonishment. "Perfect. What are the rules that define neglect?"

"Um, it could be anything, really," she admitted, "but mainly, inappropriate education, failure to provide emotional or physical support, and starvation. There's other criteria, but those are the main points."

"None of that is true."

"I know that," she reassured him, "but it's convincing them that will be the problem. Sam freezing up during her questioning didn't help either. It now looks like you coached them on what to say, and that he was afraid of confiding in her."

"This is unbelievable."

"It gets worse. The abuse charges are more set in stone with the rules, and all they really need are physical marks, and failure to follow up with doctor visits. And, based on her initial report, there are other instances besides this one that she will reference during the hearing."

"Other instances?" he repeated blankly.

"Other occasions where he was spotted with significant bruising," she said gently, seeing how devastated her client looked, as she poured that wealth of information out to him.

"Dawn," he said, "I didn't do this."

He had no idea why he felt the need to defend himself to her, but he did.

"Off the record?" she replied.

"Sure."

"I wouldn't be representing you if I felt like you were capable of something like this. When I look at you, I don't see it. I didn't see it when you were accused of murder," she said, referencing his nightmarish murder case, "I'm still on the fence about the fraud charge," she said with a laugh, "but I do know that you're not a violent monster like those people think you are."

"Thank you. You have no idea how much this support means to me right now."

"We'll get through this," she promised him. "You have to trust me, though."

"That won't be a problem."


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