p class="MsoNormal"span style="color: #e36c0a; mso-themecolor: accent6; mso-themeshade: 191;"Author's note: Here's a little St Patricks day fun for these bizarre self-quarantine times. Don't hesitate to drop me a note. Virtual social behavior is totally safe and appreciated./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" /p
p class="MsoNormal"span style="color: #e36c0a; mso-themecolor: accent6; mso-themeshade: 191;""I just woke up in my underwear. No liquor left on the shelf, I should probably introduce myself."span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanspan style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span– Panic! At the Disco/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" /p
p class="MsoNormal"Defcon 5 - All Dean's internal alarms blared. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanDean's eyes snapped open and he was on his feet before his brain could catch up. He brushed a post it note from his face as he swept the room for a threat. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanHis room looked like an Office Supply store had exploded. His boots slid on loose paper as he scrambled to get his back to the nearest wall. His fingers shook with the need for a weapon. He throttled back the adrenaline trying to pinpoint what had tripped his survival instincts. The dim room went still caught in a game of don't blink until the low hum of the Men of Letters ventilation system kicked on. But nothing tainted the slightly stuffy musk the bunker's furnace pumped from the grates. He couldn't find anything unnatural in the soft shadows of the room. And eventually Dean gave in to his body's need for air. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanWatching his breath for frost he noted the readout of the digital clock on his night stand./p
p class="MsoNormal"3 am without change. Too early for Sam and Mary to thank him for a false alarm. His eyes wandered to the creased papers marking an outline where he had been lying beside a snoozing laptop. He rubbed at a patch of bed head and crept forward to tap the computer awake./p
p class="MsoNormal"The screen came alive with a browser pop up./p
p class="MsoNormal""NW Community College - We apologize but your session has timed out."/p
p class="MsoNormal"Dean's stomach dropped. No! "No, no, no, no, no," he stuttered quickly tapping frantically at the refresh button to bring back the online test. The computer threw up a thinking circle but nothing changed the locked section of the internet course. The damn lock icon looked ominously tombstone shaped. Think… Dean stared at the laptop's dispassionate face. Profile Status? He stabbed the link./p
p class="MsoNormal"American Lit 101 – Progress locked – the line was lit up in alarming red. The screen cycled against his will and a pop up appeared./p
p class="MsoNormal"Administrative Drop – In accord with NW grading and attendance policy your student status has been cancelled due to [poor academic performance - ineligible for refund]. NW Community College is committed to your future. We encourage you to commit to a brighter future and reapply to be a part of next year's incoming students./p
p class="MsoNormal"NW Community College took flight and regardless of their academic accomplishments the laptop failed to avoid colliding with the wall. Dean fought the urge to do worse. Crap, he was well aware of his failings, but how low had he sunk that a mindless website could peg him from several states away. Dean's internal Sam told him he was being stupid, but hell if "being stupid" hadn't become the actual problem. How could he have fallen asleep during another test? Caffeine just didn't have same mojo adrenaline did. He closed his eyes and could see his mother's disappointment. Welcome back to life as a single parent. Your eldest son just earned his dunce cap. So, good luck with that./p
p class="MsoNormal""Not good enough, son," His father's voice echoed at him a memory from past PT sessions. "This isn't just about you Dean. If you aren't fast enough, smart enough it's not just you that's dead." Dean scrubbed his face. He saw this coming and should have made a contingency. It didn't surface that he had tried to warn Sam and his mother that he and college shouldn't mix. But his better sense had been doomed the moment Mary and Sam joined forces to get him signed on for a college course. "Get your damn head on straight," Dean's self-loathing jerked his feet out from under him. Hespan style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanfell to the icy undertow of inadequacy. Desperate to slam his fist into something, he directed the urge inward. "Not good enough!" the phantom voice held his father's authority. He could feel violence roll like storm clouds from his father's disapproving shake of the head. "10 miles, go…" "Yes sir!" thin night wear be damned, Dean turned and bolted to comply. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~ SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~/p
p class="MsoNormal"Mary stood in the hall staring at a rough patch job in the wall above the institutionally tiled wainscoting. Her interest in the history behind the scar had turned inward. Thinking back, she hadn't had a typical childhood. Weapons training from age seven, parents that openly admitted monsters existed and Latin as a second language. But there had still been overtones of normality. A white picket fence, neighbors that waved from their driveway and the sounds of people gathered to worship professional sports. Reminders of what a hunter sacrificed to protect. Reasons to do a good job patching over the damage left from a hunt. The Men of Letter's bunker didn't have any of that. It was a shrine built to commemorate the pursuit of all things supernatural. A tomb to cage the forgotten things whose very existence threatened humanity. Convenience aside, it bothered her that this was what her sons comfortably called home./p
p class="MsoNormal"Coming back to life hadn't felt like anything. It was every progressive moment after that hurt. The futurespan style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanshe had sacrificed to build had been torn apart and plowed under. In a blink diaper powder and bottles had been replaced with aftershave and beer. But, the landscape wasn't completely alien. There were buried remnants of her hopes and dreams, like shrapnel in a wound the pain caught her style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanSammy had only been a few months old, but she had always envisioned her boys looking out for each other. At four years old, she had noticed Dean's physical agility and charm and envisioned sports and social popularity. And after betraying everything she had been raised for to make the deal with that pansy eyed demon she had believed John would be there./p
p class="MsoNormal"Mary scrubbed the salt from her eyes. It was worse than learning to live with a lifetime of bad decisions, this felt more like she had never mattered. "Tears don't make a difference," her father's memory counselled. She remembered the moment he had sat down on the foot of her comforter. Fifth grade had been a rocky year for school yard politics and Becca had publicly pointed out that Mary only wore boy shoes not girl shoes. "You decide when something is over. Power comes from action and life is about change," his deep voice soothed. She could still see him, darker than the night, more powerful than the shadows with his shirt cuffs rolled from scrubbing dinner's casserole pan. "'I'm alive," Mary agreed. "and both boys were enrolled in online college courses, baby steps." She encouraged herself. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanShe turned towards the kitchen feeling the need to see her boys. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"It wasn't that she didn't approve of how they had turned out. Sam's full ride to Stanford was proof of his intelligence and would be congratulated in any social circle, but she couldn't claim any part of that. He had overcome the taint of demon's blood, but her role in that wasn't the legacy she wanted to end with. Dean's conviction to save people from the monsters with no need of recognition was undeniably heroic. But his lack of self-preservation haunted her sleep. Both her sons lived isolated, high risk lives that only promised personal sacrifice until nothing was left. It wasn't healthy. There needed to be a balance to keep the dark from consuming everything. This life would take everything Sam and Dean had if she didn't teach them to also include what life could give./p
p class="MsoNormal"SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~/p
p class="MsoNormal"Sam cradled his coffee, letting his mind drift with the wisps of steam. He suspected his dreamy smile could fuel Dean's teasing for weeks but didn't care. His computer had cycled to energy saving but that didn't dim Sam's accomplishment. Criminal Law - Exam grade: 110%! Sam let his head idle, savoring the comfortable quite of the bunker./p
p class="MsoNormal"Back in his days at Stanford that ominous "pencil's down" call had signaled days of anxiety until some department intern got around to posting the results. The instant results of online testing was addictive. Lazily he scrolled back through his answers considering needless improvements. An A was an A, but this was just who he was. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanMary walked into the kitchen to find Sam's long frame lolling over a kitchen chair. Although his eyes were open he looked a step from sleep. "You up for breakfast or should I be sending you to bed?" Mary asked in greeting./p
p class="MsoNormal"Sam shifted his weight onto the table. "Careful," Sam grinned, "I'm 100 for 100 with multiple choice tonight."/p
p class="MsoNormal"Mary's face lit up with delight. "Well, hotshot. It's nice to see somebody's feeling cocky but isn't 5:30 am morning, rather than night?" Mary answered. Sam turned his laptop monitor around for her to see his score. It still felt weird, this novelty of a parental figure being proud of his academic performance. Mary stepped close with a look of wonder. "Wow," She wrapped her arm around Sam's shoulders in approval. Sam found himself sitting up straighter, responding to the parental attention. He couldn't help comparing Mary to his father's past reactions./p
p class="MsoNormal"Sam blinked and suddenly he was eight sitting at an old card table with a perpetual wobble. A pre-teen Dean planted a fist against the table to steady it as he leaned forward to study the paper Sam had presented. With a smirk Dean muttered, "Well, this one goes to eleven." "Extra credit," Sam explained missing the reference as he watched Dean's face for a reaction. Dean quirked an eyebrow before setting a plate of mac n cheese in front of his brother and wrapping Sammy's mop of hair in an affectionate head lock. "Looks like we're celebrating tonight," Dean announced releasing his brother with a shove before planting a plastic fork in the food and settling in the opposite chair. Dean's face a smug look of approval watching his brother eating from over the chipped rim of a coffee mug. Sam shoveled his brother's cooking into his mouth. "Will dad be happy?" a gooey macaroni escaping in his eagerness. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span"Hell yeah!" Dean exclaimed daring gravity by balancing on the back legs of the chair's rusted pipe construction. "Nothing more dangerous than a bad ass with a brain." Dean supplied deftly taking advantage of their father's absence./p
p class="MsoNormal"Sam blinked back the moment, doing his best to hide the memory from Mary. Childhood memories always left Mary touchy. Sam hadn't determined if that had more to do with missing out than actual disapproval of Dean's parenting methods. But knowing Dean, Sam suspected his brother took the reaction as criticism. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanSam was concerned with the awkward tension that had developed between Dean and Mary. Mary noticed the silence and guessed Dean was the cause. She had never met two brothers as close as her boys. "This might be a case of what your brother doesn't know won't kill him," Mary counseled mistaking Sam's silence as an unwillingness to show up his older brother. She moved away to catalogue the contents of the refrigerator. Eggs, milk and ketchup… Grabbing the Milk carton she made a mental note to get her eldest to make eggs when he got up. Dean's ability in the kitchen had been a welcome surprise./p
p class="MsoNormal""Coffee?" Sam offered trying to preserve the comfortable intimacy. Mary nodded and Sam got up to make a fresh pot. Taking that as a commitment to breakfast, Mary collected bowls, spoons and the healthiest looking box of cereal. Setting up beside Sam's laptop, Mary asked, "Mind if I ask your advice?" Sam glanced up to see Mary pulling up a week old article on the Chicago Tribune's website. A hunt that she had held back because of school?span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanSam had a second sense of what was coming. "It's best just to talk to him," Sam advised turning away to measure the coffee grounds. Mary chuckled, "I do, the problem is Dean doesn't talk back." Mary hesitated before grumbling half to herself, "That's not something I ever imagined saying as a mom." span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanSam nodded, all too familiar with how difficult it was to get Dean to open up. "Yeah, one of life's mysteries. I go the classic little brother route, keep pushing until you get a reaction." He thought about Dean's compulsion to follow their father's orders and quickly added. "Maybe not such a good idea for the mom role."/p
p class="MsoNormal""How's he doing with the classes?" Mary asked. Sam flipped the coffee maker to brew and thought the question over. Now that Sam thought about it he realized every time he had brought the topic up it had only taken a few encouraging sounds from his brother to keep Sam spinning a one sided conversation for hours. "I don't know," Sam finally admitted. "But he's smart. Anyone capable of taking down a wendigo on his own will find a way to figure out Whitman." Mary nodded and ate a spoonful of charm shapes. Funny, she hesitated over the colorful shapes and dehydrated marshmallows in her bowl that didn't match the granola and bran flakes pictured on the cereal box./p
p class="MsoNormal""Are you sure it's our kind of thing?" Sam asked carrying two mugs back to the table. Mary nodded, her head wondering, "Would you blame me for wanting more for you two than a career in credit card fraud and pool hall tricks?" "How did John handle this?" She voiced instead. Sam thought hard how to answer assuming her question was about John and school and hunting, a tricky trifecta. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span"That's probably a big part of the issue. Dad was obsessed with finding your killer." Sam poured milk over his cereal on autopilot. "Every hunt was somehow a piece of the conspiracy." Mary snorted, "After the stories I've heard about run ins with that sulfur stinking sadist, I can understand why."/p
p class="MsoNormal""No, I mean…" Sam frowned trying to unwind where they had diverged from John's disdain for the institution of education tospan style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanthe yellow eyed demon. Another of his father's questionable parenting moments that Mary had misunderstood. The John Winchester his mother knew wasn't the man his boys knew. John Winchester's allusive approval was the origin of Dean's preference for the hunt and disdain for higher learning. But Dean had made his feelings clear that bad mouthing dad to Mary was off limits. "How bad is it?" Sam gave up, changing direction to the problem at hand. He found himself reading Mary's body language and didn't like what he saw. "How many died while you sat on this?"/p
p class="MsoNormal"Mary stirred the milky soup in her bowl. "Hunting can't be everything, Sam." Her comment about what your brother doesn't know suddenly held a different meaning. "How many?" Sam asked dreading the answer and the impact it would have on his brother. "Breakfast first," Mary directed, pushing his softening cereal toward him. Crap Sam worried. "Well if you were looking for something Dean would have something to say about, you found it." Sam shoved his spoon into the cereal bowl unhappily. The spoonful was headed full speed towards his open mouth when he caught the green clover and purple horse shoe marshmallow shapes./p
p class="MsoNormal"Sam dropped the spoon and sprang style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanToppling over the back of his chair, Sam's knee jolted the table overturning the cereal bowls. Mary's reflexes saved the laptop from the milky flood and the tiny span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanbite sized shapes that dropped over the edge to the floor tile. Kicking his feet free from the overturned legs of the chair, Sam noticed a few colorful Lucky Charm pieces clinging to his chest and slapped them away like they were alive. "Sam?" Mary doubled over to look beneath the table at her collapsed son. Sam dove for his phone deaf to her questioning call as he checked the date. Two weeks until? How had he missed this?/p
p class="MsoNormal"Using Sam's discarded hoodie to dam the mess from spreading, Mary tried again. "Sam?" Sam looked up and whispered "St Patrick's." Seeing Mary doing damage control, Sam lurched to his feet towards the roll of bounty on the sink counter. "Sam?" Mary tried again, but his body language communicated his alarm. "Aversion to Leprechauns?" Mary guessed./p
p class="MsoNormal""What? No," Sam replied pulling a ridiculously large wad of paper towels from the roll. He waded into the cleanup effort, regarding the hoodie with dismay. "Wait… Leprechauns are real?" Sam asked, chewing his lip nervously. "Uh, yeah. The hunt," Mary nodded but refused to be deterred from pinpointing Sam's violent reaction. "What's wrong Sam?" Sam pointed at the lucky charms like they were a bad omen. "A holiday built around pub brawls, excessive drinking and pranks… Does that sound like something, someone we know might take too far?"/p
p class="MsoNormal""Dean?" Mary guessed. Sam looked down at his sodden hoodie. "Damn it, Dean just washed this." Mary took the wadded mess from Sam. "Obviously not the first time your brother has had to clean up a situation of his own making. What's going on? What did he do?" Sam recognized her look. It was the overly cautious calm of a first responder assessing a traumatized patient. "No," Sam denied, "I ah… Where is he?" Sam asked realizing he wasn't sure where in the bunker Dean was. "Tell me, is this another of Dean's pranks?" Mary ordered, suspecting that she was venturing into the emotional mine field that was her boys' upbringing. Sam shook his head in denial, unsure how to white wash this piece of his childhood./p
p class="MsoNormal"He was suddenly 13 again waiting inside a locked and salted hotel room. His surprisingly Kelly green hair had dried hours ago. The colorant hadn't left a mark on his skin and the effect looked… dernier cri? Avantgarde? It was getting harder not to like as the shock of being unplanned wore off; Dean's idea of a prank. In fact, the pizza delivery kid had complemented him on the color and invited him to the local's teen scene; a St. Patrick's bonfire. Sam's eyes dropped to the worn motel room carpet replaying the fury that had hurtled out of the shower to blast in Dean's direction. He had made a big enough scene that had Dean to surrendered the motel room to him. Back then Sam had been too young to appreciate that Dean's pranks where about the only time his brother was actually acting age appropriate. Replacing Sam's shampoo with green hair dye had lit Sam's fuse./p
p class="MsoNormal"But the explosion had past and now Sam was faced with the aftermath. It was the quiet after midnight and Sam was alone with the realization that he had lost control and unloaded his cartage of preteen anxiety and frustration from the latest family relocation and periodic winchester abandonment at the wrong target. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanHis straight A brain had yet to solve the problem that it was an hour after midnight and Dean hadn't dragged his ass home to receive Sam's apology. Sam's knee bounced in time with his worry. Crap, he hadn't been thinking, driving his brother out on St. Patrick's. Where had his sense gone?/p
p class="MsoNormal"The victory of winning the dumpy motel room for himself had soured into a knot making swallowing difficult. The frenzy of the moment replayed in his head. He had been screaming, hellbent on tearing off that damn unshakeable Dean Winchester smirk. Desperate to feel like he had an effect, Sam had pushed spoiling for a fight. But instead of enraging the bull; Instead of throwing a punch, Dean had finally just grabbed his coat and slipped out the door. Giving in to Sam's demand to "GET OUT" in a way that left Sam shaken. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span3:10 AM, not good. Sam jumped to his feet grabbed his coat and had his hand on the door knob when he hesitated. Stepping over the salt line alone, at this time of night was going to upset his brother; something he had lost his appetite for. But it was St. Patrick's and Dean wasn't safe at home. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanSam had spent the last three hours listening through the flimsy motel walls to the extreme high's and lows people fall into when they've had too much to style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanSam crossed back to his duffle for his knife just as a couple started screaming outside in the parking lot. He hovered debating whether to wait out the disagreement when a heavy thump forced the door to swing inward. Sam's blade was drawn before he realized the dark form clinging to the peeling wood was Dean./p
p class="MsoNormal"With exaggerated vaudeville care, his brother resealed the entrance and peered at the room over the safety of his shoulder. Seeing Sam standing there Dean dropped his forehead against the thin ply of the door. Sam moved to sheath his knife and Dean stumbled for the nearest bed. Snapping off the light switch as he passed and leaving Sam gaping in the dark. Sam must have made a noise of disbelief because he remembered Dean's mumbled apology being clipped as Dean dropped off. Undaunted, Sam had fumbled to find the flashlight. But to this day he still didn't know the story or full extent behind the livid bruising Dean had tracked home./p
p class="MsoNormal"No, St Patricks day didn't hold any memories Sam felt Mary would appreciate. He looked apologetically at his mother. "I need to go take precautions." He hedged, pointing at the Lucky charms box. "This is the universe's idea of fair warning."/p
p class="MsoNormal""That bad?" Mary asked in concern mistaking Dean to be the issue. Sam gave her a tight smile, "If having green food coloring added to your shampoo is the worst that happens, we're getting off easy."/p
p class="MsoNormal"As if summoned by the conversation, Dean appeared already showered and dressed despite the early hour. Something about the way he moved looked rough, like the proximity of the holiday was already taking it's pound of flesh. "Are you headed somewhere?" Sam asked climbing off the floor with a handful of soggy paper towel. With a quick glance Dean headed for the style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span"Supply run," He offered swinging open the refrigerator. "Any requests?" span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanSam's instincts warned him something was off. Dean wasn't normally an early riser. "Yeah, I'm coming." Dean's unenthusiastic silence told Sam he was on the right track. Tossing the cereal mess in the garbage can Sam sped from the room before Dean could verbalize an style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"Mary carried the used cereal bowls to the sink. Making a show of checking her watch she caught Dean's eye and raised her brow in question. Where Sam would have launched into an explanation, Dean's silence was guarded. Shutting the refrigerator he eyed the mess around the table, but didn't comment. "I'll grab another case of that kombacha stuff Sam likes. Got any requests?" he asked turning back to tour the cabinets. "Yeah actually," Mary replied quickly prioritizing what topic of information she might have the best chance at actually getting…/p
p class="MsoNormal"An explanation of Sam's St Patrick's day jitters…/p
p class="MsoNormal"Insight into why Dean's pair of sneakers, which she had stumbled over this morning had been coated in fresh mud…/p
p class="MsoNormal"An opening to introduce the case she had been withholding…/p
p class="MsoNormal"It was a chicken move, but she decided to play it safe and ask how his online class was going./p
p class="MsoNormal"Dean ground to a stop. With effort he squared his shoulders and turned to face his mother. He deserved what was coming, right? "I was dropped for academic performance," he admitted. Mary frowned, "What does that mean?" "I'm not fighting wolverine material but I'm welcome to reapply after a semester of reflection," Dean deadpanned./p
p class="MsoNormal""What about extra credit? Sam and I can help you pull the grade up." Dean gave his head a negative shake, "The academic expulsion policy is explicit."/p
p class="MsoNormal""Wait, you're telling me that this isn't just failing, you were dropped as a student?" Dean's silence was his admission. Mary couldn't believe it. All the effort and hoops they had gone through, a GED, a new identity with SSN, all to get Dean accepted so he could shoot himself in the foot? And the money? "So what happened? You couldn't be bothered to try?" Mary could feel herself winding style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanDean crossed his arms, his eyes sliding to the floor. No one had died, but he knew his mother felt differently, so he kept silent. With a curse, Mary crowded her son's personal space. "Aren't you a little old for tantrums? You trying to prove that tired line about being too cool for school? Trying to prove Sam and I wrong is childish. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanYou think we can't read potential… span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spancapability? That every time you bag a monster and save a life it's all just dumb luck?" Mary realized her volume had climbed and she was yelling nose to nose with her grown son. Now who was being childish? This was how you started a bar fight, not how she wanted to parent. Stepping back she hissed, "You failed on purpose. The only thing this proves is cowardice or laziness. I'm not sure what's worse but this is not the end…"/p
p class="MsoNormal""Mom!" Sam interrupted inserting himself between the two of them. His expressive eyes begging her to back down. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanMary glanced at Dean but he hadn't moved. His green eyes gave nothing away. There was no indication her words had even pierced that untouchable core of his. But Sam's eyes were proof that she needed to reign it in. With a huff of frustration she tried explaining herself, "That class cost us thousands Sam. Thousands we don't have wasted and he never asked for help. He got himself expelled for lack of effort. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanAnd with that Leprachaun rampaging, credit scams are going to be scarce. This isn't just about him."/p
p class="MsoNormal""Mom!" Sam interrupted again. But Dean's grip found Sam's shoulder, "Leprechaun?" Sam glanced back at his brother and read Dean's body language. "Nothing I didn't earn, there's a job to do." Mary's eyes narrowed looking for derision, but Dean didn't offer any resistance. No roll of the eyes or shrug of indifference, just a hunter on a case. Sam was the only indicator that something was off./p
p class="MsoNormal""Give me the keys," Mary demanded, holding her palm out. When Dean moved too slowly she reached forward and snatched them from his hand. "I'm driving. Be ready and in the Impala in 20." span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" /p
p class="MsoNormal" /p
p class="MsoNormal"span style="color: #e36c0a; mso-themecolor: accent6; mso-themeshade: 191;""I just woke up in my underwear. No liquor left on the shelf, I should probably introduce myself."span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanspan style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span– Panic! At the Disco/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" /p
p class="MsoNormal"Defcon 5 - All Dean's internal alarms blared. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanDean's eyes snapped open and he was on his feet before his brain could catch up. He brushed a post it note from his face as he swept the room for a threat. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanHis room looked like an Office Supply store had exploded. His boots slid on loose paper as he scrambled to get his back to the nearest wall. His fingers shook with the need for a weapon. He throttled back the adrenaline trying to pinpoint what had tripped his survival instincts. The dim room went still caught in a game of don't blink until the low hum of the Men of Letters ventilation system kicked on. But nothing tainted the slightly stuffy musk the bunker's furnace pumped from the grates. He couldn't find anything unnatural in the soft shadows of the room. And eventually Dean gave in to his body's need for air. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanWatching his breath for frost he noted the readout of the digital clock on his night stand./p
p class="MsoNormal"3 am without change. Too early for Sam and Mary to thank him for a false alarm. His eyes wandered to the creased papers marking an outline where he had been lying beside a snoozing laptop. He rubbed at a patch of bed head and crept forward to tap the computer awake./p
p class="MsoNormal"The screen came alive with a browser pop up./p
p class="MsoNormal""NW Community College - We apologize but your session has timed out."/p
p class="MsoNormal"Dean's stomach dropped. No! "No, no, no, no, no," he stuttered quickly tapping frantically at the refresh button to bring back the online test. The computer threw up a thinking circle but nothing changed the locked section of the internet course. The damn lock icon looked ominously tombstone shaped. Think… Dean stared at the laptop's dispassionate face. Profile Status? He stabbed the link./p
p class="MsoNormal"American Lit 101 – Progress locked – the line was lit up in alarming red. The screen cycled against his will and a pop up appeared./p
p class="MsoNormal"Administrative Drop – In accord with NW grading and attendance policy your student status has been cancelled due to [poor academic performance - ineligible for refund]. NW Community College is committed to your future. We encourage you to commit to a brighter future and reapply to be a part of next year's incoming students./p
p class="MsoNormal"NW Community College took flight and regardless of their academic accomplishments the laptop failed to avoid colliding with the wall. Dean fought the urge to do worse. Crap, he was well aware of his failings, but how low had he sunk that a mindless website could peg him from several states away. Dean's internal Sam told him he was being stupid, but hell if "being stupid" hadn't become the actual problem. How could he have fallen asleep during another test? Caffeine just didn't have same mojo adrenaline did. He closed his eyes and could see his mother's disappointment. Welcome back to life as a single parent. Your eldest son just earned his dunce cap. So, good luck with that./p
p class="MsoNormal""Not good enough, son," His father's voice echoed at him a memory from past PT sessions. "This isn't just about you Dean. If you aren't fast enough, smart enough it's not just you that's dead." Dean scrubbed his face. He saw this coming and should have made a contingency. It didn't surface that he had tried to warn Sam and his mother that he and college shouldn't mix. But his better sense had been doomed the moment Mary and Sam joined forces to get him signed on for a college course. "Get your damn head on straight," Dean's self-loathing jerked his feet out from under him. Hespan style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanfell to the icy undertow of inadequacy. Desperate to slam his fist into something, he directed the urge inward. "Not good enough!" the phantom voice held his father's authority. He could feel violence roll like storm clouds from his father's disapproving shake of the head. "10 miles, go…" "Yes sir!" thin night wear be damned, Dean turned and bolted to comply. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~ SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~/p
p class="MsoNormal"Mary stood in the hall staring at a rough patch job in the wall above the institutionally tiled wainscoting. Her interest in the history behind the scar had turned inward. Thinking back, she hadn't had a typical childhood. Weapons training from age seven, parents that openly admitted monsters existed and Latin as a second language. But there had still been overtones of normality. A white picket fence, neighbors that waved from their driveway and the sounds of people gathered to worship professional sports. Reminders of what a hunter sacrificed to protect. Reasons to do a good job patching over the damage left from a hunt. The Men of Letter's bunker didn't have any of that. It was a shrine built to commemorate the pursuit of all things supernatural. A tomb to cage the forgotten things whose very existence threatened humanity. Convenience aside, it bothered her that this was what her sons comfortably called home./p
p class="MsoNormal"Coming back to life hadn't felt like anything. It was every progressive moment after that hurt. The futurespan style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanshe had sacrificed to build had been torn apart and plowed under. In a blink diaper powder and bottles had been replaced with aftershave and beer. But, the landscape wasn't completely alien. There were buried remnants of her hopes and dreams, like shrapnel in a wound the pain caught her style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanSammy had only been a few months old, but she had always envisioned her boys looking out for each other. At four years old, she had noticed Dean's physical agility and charm and envisioned sports and social popularity. And after betraying everything she had been raised for to make the deal with that pansy eyed demon she had believed John would be there./p
p class="MsoNormal"Mary scrubbed the salt from her eyes. It was worse than learning to live with a lifetime of bad decisions, this felt more like she had never mattered. "Tears don't make a difference," her father's memory counselled. She remembered the moment he had sat down on the foot of her comforter. Fifth grade had been a rocky year for school yard politics and Becca had publicly pointed out that Mary only wore boy shoes not girl shoes. "You decide when something is over. Power comes from action and life is about change," his deep voice soothed. She could still see him, darker than the night, more powerful than the shadows with his shirt cuffs rolled from scrubbing dinner's casserole pan. "'I'm alive," Mary agreed. "and both boys were enrolled in online college courses, baby steps." She encouraged herself. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanShe turned towards the kitchen feeling the need to see her boys. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"It wasn't that she didn't approve of how they had turned out. Sam's full ride to Stanford was proof of his intelligence and would be congratulated in any social circle, but she couldn't claim any part of that. He had overcome the taint of demon's blood, but her role in that wasn't the legacy she wanted to end with. Dean's conviction to save people from the monsters with no need of recognition was undeniably heroic. But his lack of self-preservation haunted her sleep. Both her sons lived isolated, high risk lives that only promised personal sacrifice until nothing was left. It wasn't healthy. There needed to be a balance to keep the dark from consuming everything. This life would take everything Sam and Dean had if she didn't teach them to also include what life could give./p
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p class="MsoNormal"Sam cradled his coffee, letting his mind drift with the wisps of steam. He suspected his dreamy smile could fuel Dean's teasing for weeks but didn't care. His computer had cycled to energy saving but that didn't dim Sam's accomplishment. Criminal Law - Exam grade: 110%! Sam let his head idle, savoring the comfortable quite of the bunker./p
p class="MsoNormal"Back in his days at Stanford that ominous "pencil's down" call had signaled days of anxiety until some department intern got around to posting the results. The instant results of online testing was addictive. Lazily he scrolled back through his answers considering needless improvements. An A was an A, but this was just who he was. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanMary walked into the kitchen to find Sam's long frame lolling over a kitchen chair. Although his eyes were open he looked a step from sleep. "You up for breakfast or should I be sending you to bed?" Mary asked in greeting./p
p class="MsoNormal"Sam shifted his weight onto the table. "Careful," Sam grinned, "I'm 100 for 100 with multiple choice tonight."/p
p class="MsoNormal"Mary's face lit up with delight. "Well, hotshot. It's nice to see somebody's feeling cocky but isn't 5:30 am morning, rather than night?" Mary answered. Sam turned his laptop monitor around for her to see his score. It still felt weird, this novelty of a parental figure being proud of his academic performance. Mary stepped close with a look of wonder. "Wow," She wrapped her arm around Sam's shoulders in approval. Sam found himself sitting up straighter, responding to the parental attention. He couldn't help comparing Mary to his father's past reactions./p
p class="MsoNormal"Sam blinked and suddenly he was eight sitting at an old card table with a perpetual wobble. A pre-teen Dean planted a fist against the table to steady it as he leaned forward to study the paper Sam had presented. With a smirk Dean muttered, "Well, this one goes to eleven." "Extra credit," Sam explained missing the reference as he watched Dean's face for a reaction. Dean quirked an eyebrow before setting a plate of mac n cheese in front of his brother and wrapping Sammy's mop of hair in an affectionate head lock. "Looks like we're celebrating tonight," Dean announced releasing his brother with a shove before planting a plastic fork in the food and settling in the opposite chair. Dean's face a smug look of approval watching his brother eating from over the chipped rim of a coffee mug. Sam shoveled his brother's cooking into his mouth. "Will dad be happy?" a gooey macaroni escaping in his eagerness. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span"Hell yeah!" Dean exclaimed daring gravity by balancing on the back legs of the chair's rusted pipe construction. "Nothing more dangerous than a bad ass with a brain." Dean supplied deftly taking advantage of their father's absence./p
p class="MsoNormal"Sam blinked back the moment, doing his best to hide the memory from Mary. Childhood memories always left Mary touchy. Sam hadn't determined if that had more to do with missing out than actual disapproval of Dean's parenting methods. But knowing Dean, Sam suspected his brother took the reaction as criticism. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanSam was concerned with the awkward tension that had developed between Dean and Mary. Mary noticed the silence and guessed Dean was the cause. She had never met two brothers as close as her boys. "This might be a case of what your brother doesn't know won't kill him," Mary counseled mistaking Sam's silence as an unwillingness to show up his older brother. She moved away to catalogue the contents of the refrigerator. Eggs, milk and ketchup… Grabbing the Milk carton she made a mental note to get her eldest to make eggs when he got up. Dean's ability in the kitchen had been a welcome surprise./p
p class="MsoNormal""Coffee?" Sam offered trying to preserve the comfortable intimacy. Mary nodded and Sam got up to make a fresh pot. Taking that as a commitment to breakfast, Mary collected bowls, spoons and the healthiest looking box of cereal. Setting up beside Sam's laptop, Mary asked, "Mind if I ask your advice?" Sam glanced up to see Mary pulling up a week old article on the Chicago Tribune's website. A hunt that she had held back because of school?span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanSam had a second sense of what was coming. "It's best just to talk to him," Sam advised turning away to measure the coffee grounds. Mary chuckled, "I do, the problem is Dean doesn't talk back." Mary hesitated before grumbling half to herself, "That's not something I ever imagined saying as a mom." span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanSam nodded, all too familiar with how difficult it was to get Dean to open up. "Yeah, one of life's mysteries. I go the classic little brother route, keep pushing until you get a reaction." He thought about Dean's compulsion to follow their father's orders and quickly added. "Maybe not such a good idea for the mom role."/p
p class="MsoNormal""How's he doing with the classes?" Mary asked. Sam flipped the coffee maker to brew and thought the question over. Now that Sam thought about it he realized every time he had brought the topic up it had only taken a few encouraging sounds from his brother to keep Sam spinning a one sided conversation for hours. "I don't know," Sam finally admitted. "But he's smart. Anyone capable of taking down a wendigo on his own will find a way to figure out Whitman." Mary nodded and ate a spoonful of charm shapes. Funny, she hesitated over the colorful shapes and dehydrated marshmallows in her bowl that didn't match the granola and bran flakes pictured on the cereal box./p
p class="MsoNormal""Are you sure it's our kind of thing?" Sam asked carrying two mugs back to the table. Mary nodded, her head wondering, "Would you blame me for wanting more for you two than a career in credit card fraud and pool hall tricks?" "How did John handle this?" She voiced instead. Sam thought hard how to answer assuming her question was about John and school and hunting, a tricky trifecta. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span"That's probably a big part of the issue. Dad was obsessed with finding your killer." Sam poured milk over his cereal on autopilot. "Every hunt was somehow a piece of the conspiracy." Mary snorted, "After the stories I've heard about run ins with that sulfur stinking sadist, I can understand why."/p
p class="MsoNormal""No, I mean…" Sam frowned trying to unwind where they had diverged from John's disdain for the institution of education tospan style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanthe yellow eyed demon. Another of his father's questionable parenting moments that Mary had misunderstood. The John Winchester his mother knew wasn't the man his boys knew. John Winchester's allusive approval was the origin of Dean's preference for the hunt and disdain for higher learning. But Dean had made his feelings clear that bad mouthing dad to Mary was off limits. "How bad is it?" Sam gave up, changing direction to the problem at hand. He found himself reading Mary's body language and didn't like what he saw. "How many died while you sat on this?"/p
p class="MsoNormal"Mary stirred the milky soup in her bowl. "Hunting can't be everything, Sam." Her comment about what your brother doesn't know suddenly held a different meaning. "How many?" Sam asked dreading the answer and the impact it would have on his brother. "Breakfast first," Mary directed, pushing his softening cereal toward him. Crap Sam worried. "Well if you were looking for something Dean would have something to say about, you found it." Sam shoved his spoon into the cereal bowl unhappily. The spoonful was headed full speed towards his open mouth when he caught the green clover and purple horse shoe marshmallow shapes./p
p class="MsoNormal"Sam dropped the spoon and sprang style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanToppling over the back of his chair, Sam's knee jolted the table overturning the cereal bowls. Mary's reflexes saved the laptop from the milky flood and the tiny span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanbite sized shapes that dropped over the edge to the floor tile. Kicking his feet free from the overturned legs of the chair, Sam noticed a few colorful Lucky Charm pieces clinging to his chest and slapped them away like they were alive. "Sam?" Mary doubled over to look beneath the table at her collapsed son. Sam dove for his phone deaf to her questioning call as he checked the date. Two weeks until? How had he missed this?/p
p class="MsoNormal"Using Sam's discarded hoodie to dam the mess from spreading, Mary tried again. "Sam?" Sam looked up and whispered "St Patrick's." Seeing Mary doing damage control, Sam lurched to his feet towards the roll of bounty on the sink counter. "Sam?" Mary tried again, but his body language communicated his alarm. "Aversion to Leprechauns?" Mary guessed./p
p class="MsoNormal""What? No," Sam replied pulling a ridiculously large wad of paper towels from the roll. He waded into the cleanup effort, regarding the hoodie with dismay. "Wait… Leprechauns are real?" Sam asked, chewing his lip nervously. "Uh, yeah. The hunt," Mary nodded but refused to be deterred from pinpointing Sam's violent reaction. "What's wrong Sam?" Sam pointed at the lucky charms like they were a bad omen. "A holiday built around pub brawls, excessive drinking and pranks… Does that sound like something, someone we know might take too far?"/p
p class="MsoNormal""Dean?" Mary guessed. Sam looked down at his sodden hoodie. "Damn it, Dean just washed this." Mary took the wadded mess from Sam. "Obviously not the first time your brother has had to clean up a situation of his own making. What's going on? What did he do?" Sam recognized her look. It was the overly cautious calm of a first responder assessing a traumatized patient. "No," Sam denied, "I ah… Where is he?" Sam asked realizing he wasn't sure where in the bunker Dean was. "Tell me, is this another of Dean's pranks?" Mary ordered, suspecting that she was venturing into the emotional mine field that was her boys' upbringing. Sam shook his head in denial, unsure how to white wash this piece of his childhood./p
p class="MsoNormal"He was suddenly 13 again waiting inside a locked and salted hotel room. His surprisingly Kelly green hair had dried hours ago. The colorant hadn't left a mark on his skin and the effect looked… dernier cri? Avantgarde? It was getting harder not to like as the shock of being unplanned wore off; Dean's idea of a prank. In fact, the pizza delivery kid had complemented him on the color and invited him to the local's teen scene; a St. Patrick's bonfire. Sam's eyes dropped to the worn motel room carpet replaying the fury that had hurtled out of the shower to blast in Dean's direction. He had made a big enough scene that had Dean to surrendered the motel room to him. Back then Sam had been too young to appreciate that Dean's pranks where about the only time his brother was actually acting age appropriate. Replacing Sam's shampoo with green hair dye had lit Sam's fuse./p
p class="MsoNormal"But the explosion had past and now Sam was faced with the aftermath. It was the quiet after midnight and Sam was alone with the realization that he had lost control and unloaded his cartage of preteen anxiety and frustration from the latest family relocation and periodic winchester abandonment at the wrong target. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanHis straight A brain had yet to solve the problem that it was an hour after midnight and Dean hadn't dragged his ass home to receive Sam's apology. Sam's knee bounced in time with his worry. Crap, he hadn't been thinking, driving his brother out on St. Patrick's. Where had his sense gone?/p
p class="MsoNormal"The victory of winning the dumpy motel room for himself had soured into a knot making swallowing difficult. The frenzy of the moment replayed in his head. He had been screaming, hellbent on tearing off that damn unshakeable Dean Winchester smirk. Desperate to feel like he had an effect, Sam had pushed spoiling for a fight. But instead of enraging the bull; Instead of throwing a punch, Dean had finally just grabbed his coat and slipped out the door. Giving in to Sam's demand to "GET OUT" in a way that left Sam shaken. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span3:10 AM, not good. Sam jumped to his feet grabbed his coat and had his hand on the door knob when he hesitated. Stepping over the salt line alone, at this time of night was going to upset his brother; something he had lost his appetite for. But it was St. Patrick's and Dean wasn't safe at home. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanSam had spent the last three hours listening through the flimsy motel walls to the extreme high's and lows people fall into when they've had too much to style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanSam crossed back to his duffle for his knife just as a couple started screaming outside in the parking lot. He hovered debating whether to wait out the disagreement when a heavy thump forced the door to swing inward. Sam's blade was drawn before he realized the dark form clinging to the peeling wood was Dean./p
p class="MsoNormal"With exaggerated vaudeville care, his brother resealed the entrance and peered at the room over the safety of his shoulder. Seeing Sam standing there Dean dropped his forehead against the thin ply of the door. Sam moved to sheath his knife and Dean stumbled for the nearest bed. Snapping off the light switch as he passed and leaving Sam gaping in the dark. Sam must have made a noise of disbelief because he remembered Dean's mumbled apology being clipped as Dean dropped off. Undaunted, Sam had fumbled to find the flashlight. But to this day he still didn't know the story or full extent behind the livid bruising Dean had tracked home./p
p class="MsoNormal"No, St Patricks day didn't hold any memories Sam felt Mary would appreciate. He looked apologetically at his mother. "I need to go take precautions." He hedged, pointing at the Lucky charms box. "This is the universe's idea of fair warning."/p
p class="MsoNormal""That bad?" Mary asked in concern mistaking Dean to be the issue. Sam gave her a tight smile, "If having green food coloring added to your shampoo is the worst that happens, we're getting off easy."/p
p class="MsoNormal"As if summoned by the conversation, Dean appeared already showered and dressed despite the early hour. Something about the way he moved looked rough, like the proximity of the holiday was already taking it's pound of flesh. "Are you headed somewhere?" Sam asked climbing off the floor with a handful of soggy paper towel. With a quick glance Dean headed for the style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span"Supply run," He offered swinging open the refrigerator. "Any requests?" span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanSam's instincts warned him something was off. Dean wasn't normally an early riser. "Yeah, I'm coming." Dean's unenthusiastic silence told Sam he was on the right track. Tossing the cereal mess in the garbage can Sam sped from the room before Dean could verbalize an style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"Mary carried the used cereal bowls to the sink. Making a show of checking her watch she caught Dean's eye and raised her brow in question. Where Sam would have launched into an explanation, Dean's silence was guarded. Shutting the refrigerator he eyed the mess around the table, but didn't comment. "I'll grab another case of that kombacha stuff Sam likes. Got any requests?" he asked turning back to tour the cabinets. "Yeah actually," Mary replied quickly prioritizing what topic of information she might have the best chance at actually getting…/p
p class="MsoNormal"An explanation of Sam's St Patrick's day jitters…/p
p class="MsoNormal"Insight into why Dean's pair of sneakers, which she had stumbled over this morning had been coated in fresh mud…/p
p class="MsoNormal"An opening to introduce the case she had been withholding…/p
p class="MsoNormal"It was a chicken move, but she decided to play it safe and ask how his online class was going./p
p class="MsoNormal"Dean ground to a stop. With effort he squared his shoulders and turned to face his mother. He deserved what was coming, right? "I was dropped for academic performance," he admitted. Mary frowned, "What does that mean?" "I'm not fighting wolverine material but I'm welcome to reapply after a semester of reflection," Dean deadpanned./p
p class="MsoNormal""What about extra credit? Sam and I can help you pull the grade up." Dean gave his head a negative shake, "The academic expulsion policy is explicit."/p
p class="MsoNormal""Wait, you're telling me that this isn't just failing, you were dropped as a student?" Dean's silence was his admission. Mary couldn't believe it. All the effort and hoops they had gone through, a GED, a new identity with SSN, all to get Dean accepted so he could shoot himself in the foot? And the money? "So what happened? You couldn't be bothered to try?" Mary could feel herself winding style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanDean crossed his arms, his eyes sliding to the floor. No one had died, but he knew his mother felt differently, so he kept silent. With a curse, Mary crowded her son's personal space. "Aren't you a little old for tantrums? You trying to prove that tired line about being too cool for school? Trying to prove Sam and I wrong is childish. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanYou think we can't read potential… span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spancapability? That every time you bag a monster and save a life it's all just dumb luck?" Mary realized her volume had climbed and she was yelling nose to nose with her grown son. Now who was being childish? This was how you started a bar fight, not how she wanted to parent. Stepping back she hissed, "You failed on purpose. The only thing this proves is cowardice or laziness. I'm not sure what's worse but this is not the end…"/p
p class="MsoNormal""Mom!" Sam interrupted inserting himself between the two of them. His expressive eyes begging her to back down. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanMary glanced at Dean but he hadn't moved. His green eyes gave nothing away. There was no indication her words had even pierced that untouchable core of his. But Sam's eyes were proof that she needed to reign it in. With a huff of frustration she tried explaining herself, "That class cost us thousands Sam. Thousands we don't have wasted and he never asked for help. He got himself expelled for lack of effort. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanAnd with that Leprachaun rampaging, credit scams are going to be scarce. This isn't just about him."/p
p class="MsoNormal""Mom!" Sam interrupted again. But Dean's grip found Sam's shoulder, "Leprechaun?" Sam glanced back at his brother and read Dean's body language. "Nothing I didn't earn, there's a job to do." Mary's eyes narrowed looking for derision, but Dean didn't offer any resistance. No roll of the eyes or shrug of indifference, just a hunter on a case. Sam was the only indicator that something was off./p
p class="MsoNormal""Give me the keys," Mary demanded, holding her palm out. When Dean moved too slowly she reached forward and snatched them from his hand. "I'm driving. Be ready and in the Impala in 20." span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" /p