CHAPTER THREE
"You gonna be okay all by yourself, little bro?"
The infamous 1967 Impala was pulled to a stop along the curb by Lawrence South Junior High as the younger of the Winchester brothers stepped out for his first day at the unfamiliar school.
"I'll be fine, Dean," he replied ever-so-quietly. His voice could barely be heard over the rumble of the car's engine.
"Call me if you need me?"
"I'm gonna be fine," Sam insisted, his voice firm and louder now; not angry, just annoyed. "Thanks for dropping me off." His voice was soft again.
"Don't cause any trouble, Sammy," Dean chuckled before the muscle car pulled out of the parking lot and cruised down the road.
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Sam's first couple classes had gone fine, a little awkward yeah, especially when his second period teacher made him stand up and introduce himself, but other than that they had been okay.
He was making his way down the hallway, they had a fifteen minute break before the next class started and he wasn't sure where to go, so he was just walking down the halls slowly.
He managed to turn the corner just in time to see some thug of an eighth grader slam some other kid's face into the lockers right in front of him.
Sam could hear the crunch of bone, saw the flash of red blood that sprayed from the kid's nose, nasty bubbles bursting as he struggled to breath through the thick liquid.
The eighth grader slammed a fist into his stomach, the kid doubling over with a groan of pain just to have his nose once again slammed into by a knee.
By that time the security and half dozen teachers were all rushing from the hallways converging on the pack of kids that had been circling the fight like wolves around a wounded calf.
Sam, eyes still glazed over and focusing on the pool of blood that was being smeared across the floor with frantic footsteps realized he couldn't breathe and took off for the bathrooms around the corner behind him, evading the snatching hands of the teachers as they tried to round up the kids.
Fifteen minutes later when the late bell rang for third period, there was a seat assigned to Sam Winchester that sat empty.
It wasn't until another twenty minutes later when one of the custodians making his rounds found Sam curled up in the corner of the handicapped bathroom stall, knees drawn up to his chest, backpack clutched to his chest and face buried against the canvas.
"Hey kid, you alright?"
There was a muffled sniffle but no answer.
"Hey, you're gonna get in trouble for skipping, you better go to class."
Again there was no answer, and when the man reached out to touch Sam's shoulder, Sam jolted, feet scrambling across the floor to push himself further back into the corner.
"Don't touch me!"
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"Emily Connor."
"Hi, Mrs. Connor, this is Mr. Casillo the principal at Lawrence South Junior High."
"Hi, Mr. Casillo, is everything okay?"
"Actually no ma'am, it's not. Sam didn't show up for his history class and he was found in the boy's bathroom in tears. One of our custodians found him. He's at the guidance counselor's office now, but we can't get him to tell us what's wrong. I'm aware of his situation…with the death of his father and all, I just think he may need a familiar face right now."
"I'll be right there," she said, chest tight as she snatched up her keys.
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Emily had run every possible scenario through her head during the ten minute drive to the school, none of them making her feel anymore at ease.
When she finally made it to the counselor's office, Sam was sitting in a chair off to the side, backpack clutched in his lap, staring at his shoes.
"Hi, Mrs. Connor," Mr. Casillo smiled.
"Emily, please," she said politely, walking over to Sam and setting down her purse in the chair beside her as she took a seat.
"Hey Sam, honey…Mr. Casillo said you didn't go to class," she said, eyeing his puffy eyes and figuring the boy didn't want to be reminded that he had been crying. "You mind telling me why?"
Sam shook his head, fiddling with the zipper pull on his backpack and Emily met Mr. Casillo's concerned eyes.
Ten minutes, a glass of water and a bribe of being able to go home later and they still hadn't been able to get Sam to utter more than a simple 'no.'
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"Has he acted like this since he came to live with you?"
"No, I mean, he's been quiet, which I can understand, it's a big change you know, but he's never just clammed up like this. The boy has manners, his Dad was a marine, that was one thing he taught him," she said, watching him through the small window in the door.
"You're welcome to check him out and take him home if you want, but honestly I think maybe our counselor should step in. Mrs. White has training with things like this."
"Actually…" Emily started to say, trying to think what could possibly shake Sam this bad. "Is it okay if I leave for just a few minutes? He's really attached to his brother, I'll head over to the high school and check him out, if Sam won't talk to Dean he won't talk to anyone."
"Sure, no problem."
"Thanks, Mr. Casillo," she said, polite smile as she walked back to her car.
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"What do you mean he's not in his class?"
"He never showed up today, his first period teacher marked him absent as well," the old lady behind the desk at the high school office said.
"Thanks," Emily said, starting to turn back towards the door. "I'm gonna kick his ass," she hissed, yanking her cell phone out as she heard the lady behind her chuckle.
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"Slow down, baby," Dean grinned, kissing his way up some random girl's neck.
It took him a minute to realize that vibrating on his thigh was coming from his phone and not her.
He was tempted to leave it, but remembered telling Sam to call him if he needed him and pushed the girl off of his lap.
"Just gimme a minute sweetheart," he grinned, watching her pout.
He flipped it open, brow drawing down when he saw Emily's number listed.
"Shit…" He hissed in a quick breath before putting his ear to the phone. "Hello?"
"You better have a damned good reason you're not in class."
Shit.
Dean glanced over at Ashley…or Alicia, or whatever her name was, shirt half unbuttoned.
"Umm…"
"You better believe you're gonna be in trouble for this Dean, but right now I need you to come to the Junior High, something happened with Sam. They found him in the bathroom crying and he won't talk to anyone," she said in a rush, voice going soft again.
"Shit, I'll be right there Emily," he said, snapping his phone shut and unceremoniously kicking the girl from the car, leaving black skid marks as he took off for the school.
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Emily waited outside the school's office, hearing the roar of the Impala's engine, followed quickly by the squeal of tires as Dean tore into the parking lot, sliding the car haphazardly into a parking spot.
"Where is he?" he growled, door slamming shut as he marched across the parking lot, not waiting for Emily to catch up with him.
"In the counselor's office," she said, falling into step behind him, eyeing the tight line of his shoulders and tick in his jaw as his stride ate up the ground across the blacktop, breaking into a jog as he neared the glass doors.
"Sammy?" he shouted as soon as he yanked it open, the receptionist's head shooting up wide eyed. Dean may have only been seventeen but he was still a force to be reckoned with.
"Quiet," Emily hissed, grabbing Dean's elbow and yanking him towards the office to the left, unnerved by the way Dean let her drag him along.
"Sam," he rumbled, pushing past Mr. Casillo when he spotted him through the doorway, boots thudding heavily against the thin carpet before he slid to his knees in front of Sam. "Sammy?" he asked, hands cupping Sam's knees.
Mr. Casillo and Emily eased their way out of the office, shutting the door quietly behind them. Both knowing that this was something they shouldn't be hanging over their shoulders for.
"C'mon man, talk to me," Dean whispered, voice choked when he saw Sam's red eyes.
"There was a lot of blood," Sam whispered, eyes still pinned to the ground.
Dean swallowed hard, "Where?" he asked, his eyes darting over Sam in search of nonexistent wounds.
"Some kid…he got beat up…there was so much blood Dean," Sam said quietly, voice breaking as he finally met Dean's eyes.
Dean swallowed again, "Did you get hurt?"
Sam shook his head, reaching up to scrub his sleeve across his face. "I ran…but the blood…Dean, all I could see was Dad," he said, voice hitching.
"I know buddy, c'mere," he said, sliding Sam off the seat, his arms wrapping around Dean's neck.
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Emily wiped an errant tear from her cheek watching the brothers. She couldn't begin to imagine what it must be like for them. Sam saw his father die, and Dean…Dean had to deal with the aftermath, knowing he wasn't there in his father's final moments. Being left behind to care for Sammy. Emily knew without a shadow of a doubt that if Dean had his choice, he would have raised Sam on his own.
She also knew without a shadow of a doubt that he could have done it.
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Dean picked Sam up out of his chair like he weighed nothing, his little brother's arms still wrapped around his neck, face buried in his neck. He wrapped one arm around Sam's waist and bent down to pick up Sam's backpack, finally heading back towards the door.
Emily smiled sadly, chest tightening when Dean actually returned it, walking past her and carrying Sam back outside to the shelter of the Impala.
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Upon arriving back at the house, Sam hadn't spoken a word. He'd crawled back into the safety of his shell with its only escape hatch allowed to his brother. Despite how freaked out he had been before leaving the school, within the ten minute ride home, he had slipped into a quiet sleep in the passenger seat of the Impala so Dean carried him inside, Emily not far ahead to unlock the door.
Soon after settling Sammy in his bed, he reluctantly went back downstairs to face the young woman that had recently discovered he hadn't been to school at all that day.
Emily was waiting at the bottom of the staircase. "The only reason I'm not sending you back to school is because of him," she said, her voice firm but quiet.
"I don't doubt it."
"Mind telling me what you were thinking?" she questioned, tone more annoyed now as she followed him towards the living room.
"A little bit, yeah."
The brunette let out a frustrated, strangled sigh. "Dean, I've been extremely patient with you and I get that you don't want to be here, but I can't help that. You are here and so is your brother. And if you weren't, who knows where you would've ended up so you can hate me all you want but you've got a year left 'til you can pack your bags to go anywhere else. One bloody year. Why not make the best of it?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "Why the hell do you care? You don't know us, it's not like you grew up with us. You have no idea what life was like before this all happened and yeah, I miss it. But the only reason I'm not fighting to leave here is because of Sam. So that one bloody year you mentioned is one year in Picket Fence Hell before I can legally take care of Sam like I planned."
"I've got nothing against you, really, but you had Rob and I on the shit list before you even met us. I'll fight you everyday on crap like this, but don't judge us and we won't judge you. You could end up liking it here if you tried, but if you don't want to then fine. Do whatever. But if I find out you skip school, that one year's just gonna be a year of groundings and useless time. Maybe you'll learn something." She shot him a look before running upstairs to finish what she was doing before she got the phone call from the school.
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Dean had fallen asleep watching TV and when he woke up it was almost three in the afternoon. Somewhat groggily, he sat up and went to retrieve a drink from the kitchen. The pot of water boiling on the stove and the meatloaf in the oven indicated that Emily had started dinner and would return soon enough to the kitchen to check up on it. He had the feeling there was an apology in order since he'd taken a bit of his aggravation out on her earlier and even if it was partially her that caused it, she was being awfully nice to him and Sam. For that, he was grateful. He found a can of pop in the fridge and two sandwiches. "What, am I being punished for mouthing off? No real dinner?" he asked outloud. He soon after realized that he had slept longer than she'd probably expected so they had most likely been meant for lunch. One had Sam's name written on the plastic wrap and the other had a note that clearly read: INCASE YOU'RE HUNGRY, DEAN. Her intentions even after their bickering were still good which meant he really did owe her an apology. But first, he had to check up on Sammy.
Upstairs, one sandwich still wrapped and the other half eaten already in his hand, Dean knocked on his brother's bedroom door. "Sammy?" He kept his voice quiet, just in case Sam had still been sleeping, but he heard noise so that wasn't likely.
The door opened a little bit. "Yeah?" The reply was so quiet it was almost inaudible.
"You want a snack before dinner?" he asked.
Sam hesitated for a moment. "I'm okay."
"Can I come in anyway?"
The door opened enough for Dean to step in and hand his brother the plate. "I'm not hungry, Dean."
"C'mon, man. You haven't eaten anything all day."
"I snuck down earlier for the leftover mac and cheese," he said monotonously, setting down the food nearby.
Dean sighed as he sat down on the bed. "You alright?"
"I'm fine."
"No, seriously."
"Dude, if you're gonna pester me, get out. I don't wanna talk about it."
"Fine," his brother left the room without another word uttered. Just as he was coming downstairs, Robert was coming in the front door.
"Hey, Dean," he said with a tired smile. "How was school?"
"Talk to your wife," Dean replied, disappearing into the living room.
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When Emily came back down to check on dinner, her spouse got a full dose of whoa on the day's recap before she called the boys down to eat. Sam didn't come down. His brother went to get him to find he'd fallen asleep in Dean's bed and Dean didn't have the heart to wake him.
"He's asleep," he stated upon returning to the dinner table.
"He wasn't in his room when I came down…" Emily said, confused.
"He's in my room. I left him there, though," he replied.
Robert chuckled, "This mean you're sleeping in his bed?"
"Probably," Dean managed a small laugh at the thought; sleeping in his brother's 'nerd room.'
The duration of the meal wasn't as quiet as the previous night. The Winchester sibling didn't mind joking a bit, but he was concerned for Sammy after the events of today. Just for his own sake, he might have to share his bed with his brother; nightmares were sure to ensue tonight.
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Lying in bed at eleven with the TV nightlight muted again, his curiosity got the best of him. After double checking that Sam was still okay in his deep sleep on the other side of the sheets, Dean stole from the room clad in pajama bottoms but no shirt and snuck downstairs.
From what he could tell, Robert was asleep in front of the television in the living room on the couch, but he didn't see his wife. She must've been in bed already so Dean was in the clear to investigate the one thing that had plagued his mind for the past two days; the hidden portrait in the den.
The den was dimly lit by the moonlight just barely shining through the curtains, not enough to really light up the room to a point of seeable, but he wasn't sure he wanted to risk turning on the overhead light. Instead, he switched on the lamp hovering over the keyboard on the desk.
"Perfect," he mumbled to himself. That one little lamp illuminated the shadowy corner the picture was masked in and once Dean realized what had been hidden, he wasn't sure what his initial reaction should've been.
In the photograph, Emily and a little girl, appearing to be about five, were blowing out candles on a cake that read, "Happy Birthday, Lily!" upside down. Therefore, Dean wasn't sure whether he should feel like a jackass for giving the Connors a hard time, being suspicious of the date tattooed on Rob's arm or wondering as to what actually happened to the little girl; Emily hadn't ever told him, so he had the right to be curious about that, atleast. And less of a reason to be suspicious of their intentions.
"Dean?"
He jumped at the sound of Emily's voice. "I'm sorry, I just…"
"What're you doing up?" she asked quietly.
"Curiosity got the best of me, I didn't mean to invade your privacy or anything," he stated.
The brunette smiled sadly as she sat down at the desk. "What do you wanna know?"
"I didn't…"
"You wouldn't have wandered in here had you not had questions. I'd rather you ask me than Rob."
"Well, now that you brought it up," he started. "Your daughter, right? Lily, as far as the cake is concerned?"
"Correct. Just after her fifth birthday."
"Did she … pass or…?"
"I don't know," she replied truthfully. "She went missing just after that picture was taken."
"How old would she be now?"
"She'd only be turning six this year. That was only this past November."
Dean couldn't help but want to flinch. It was still a raw wound, just like the death of his father was to him. He was surprised she was answering his questions this composed. "Still looking?"
"Too early to give up on her," Emily said softly. "Not a day passes I don't wonder if she's still okay, if she's still alive. But I keep it to myself."
"Isn't that the reason you're supposed to get married? Other than all that love crap," the way he phrased it made her chuckle, "you're supposed to share shit like that with Robert, aren't you?"
"Not under this circumstance." The tone in which she said it told him not to press the subject or let his curiosity show. Asking why would be too much for this conversation to handle.
"He clams up like Sam does as far as I can tell."
"Yeah, but he won't talk to anyone about it. Sam has you," she said smartly. "Speaking of, is he still sleeping? Like you should be?"
"Curiosity got the best of me, like I said," Dean chuckled. "Thanks, Emily. For, you know," he gestured to the house, "everything." He smiled. "I didn't mean to be a dick earlier."
"Apology accepted," she smirked, "but you're still not off the hook for skipping school."
"So how long am I grounded for?" he sighed.
"The weekend," she smiled. "But I'm having a neighborhood picnic on Saturday, so it's not much of a punishment."
"Thanks," he chuckled at the wink she added before he left the room. "Goodnight, Emily."
"Goodnight." One last moment-long gaze at the photograph on the wall before she switched the light off and went to bed. She still had hope.
A/N: Holy fuckers. This is actually ten pages long. It most definitely would not have been this long had Monte not written some (most) of it for me. It would've taken me a friggin month plus to get out to you guys!
So leave a review to thank Monte! And leave some feedback while the box is open, why don't ya? ;)
I hope it was worth the … two day long wait! XD
XxCrash.And.BurnXx