I would like to thank my beta reader Soar, JuliaAurelia, Sinead-Conlan, and PADavis for all their help and suggestion on this chapter.
Chapter 2
November 2, 1983
Annie Hooper walked up and down the rows of the preschool where she worked, checking the progress of her students as they worked on their current art project of drawing their favourite thing.
"I'm telling," a voice piped up behind her. Annie resisted the urge to sigh and turned around and headed for a table where two four year olds sat.
"Ms. Annie, Dean's not doing his work right," Jeff tattled.
"Am too," Dean insisted.
Annie looked over at Jeff's picture and saw that he was trying to draw a picture of a baseball. She looked over at Dean's picture and saw that he had drawn a picture of four people and a car. "Can I see your picture, Dean?" Annie asked.
"Sure. Did I do it wrong?" Dean asked, sounding a bit unsure of himself.
"No," Annie confirmed. "We can't say what each other's favourite thing is."
"See," Dean said in the best imitation of a sneer.
"But you drew five things. That's wrong," Jeff whined back.
"How do I pick?" Dean asked with a small pout.
"It's your family, Dean," Annie said. "A family counts as one thing."
Dean smiled. Jeff scowled. "What about the car? That's two things."
"Daddy calls the car his baby, just like what mommy calls me and Sammy," Dean said with a touch of confusion coloring his tone.
Annie knelt down so that she was at eye level with Dean and smiled. Her husband was like that with his motorcycle. "It's okay, Dean. If you want to include the car as part of your family, then you can."
Dean stuck his tongue out at Jeff.
"Ms. Annnniiieee," Jeff whined again. "Dean's being mean to me."
"Dean Winchester, we do not stick our tongues out at each other, you know this, and if I have to speak to you one more time about it, you'll get a time out."
"Sorry, Ms. Annie. I've done my picture. Can I go play in the sand?"
"No, it's not play time yet. Can you label your picture for me?" Annie asked, trying to keep Dean busy.
"Kay," Dean said agreeably
--
Later that day, when the children were in the gym, Annie was sitting at her desk going over Dean's work. He always finished first, and it was starting to cause a bit of a problem in that Dean would ask the other kids to play with him, and then get mad when they wouldn't. Marilyn Writt, Annie's business partner, was convinced that Dean had been suffering from attention deficit disorder, and had spoken to his mother about putting him on Ritalin. Annie actually disagreed. She felt that Dean didn't pay attention because he was bored, not because he couldn't concentrate.
Looking at his latest writing assignment confirmed this in Annie's mind. The students had been working on writing their names. Dean had written his first name and had then drawn a crude picture of a gun after it. When Annie had questioned the young boy, Dean had explained that it was a Winchester rifle, and that he didn't know how to spell his last name. Annie loved Dean's solution to his problem. Not many kids would have thought of it.
She reached over and picked up the phone and asked Dean's mother to come in a bit early. She wanted to run something by her.
--
"Mommy," the four year old blond bundle cried as he launched himself into his mother's arms.
"Hey Dean, buddy," Mary greeted him enthusiastically. She scooped up her little bundle of joy and pulled him into a big hug.
"Hi Mary, thanks for coming," Annie greeted the young mother. "I hope I didn't take you away from anything important."
"No, I was off today anyway. Just a second okay," she said and put Dean down and knelt down so that she was at eye level. "Dean, can you go and play with your friends? I need to speak to your teacher."
"Kay, mommy," Dean agreed affably.
Mary turned back to the teacher. "What did you want to see me about this time?" Mary said and tried to resist the urge to sigh. This wasn't the first time the school had called, although Mary was used to dealing with Marilyn.
Dean had started pre-school that fall. He would be starting school next September and Mary wanted him to get used to being around other children. The first couple of days had gone great. Dean would talk about how much he loved playing with the other kids and drawing pictures. He said he was having fun.
Then the phone calls started. Dean was causing trouble. He wouldn't sit still and do his work. He was disruptive. Mary was getting tired of it. What more could she do? She had spoken to her son about it, and Dean had promised to behave. The last time the woman had had the nerve to suggest that Dean had attention deficit disorder, and should be put on medication. Mary had almost hit her.
"What is it this time?" Mary said trying to keep the irritation out of her voice.
"I'd like to talk you about your son," Annie said as she led Mary over to her desk and invited her to have a seat.
"He's fine," Mary said coldly. "He does not have ADD."
"I don't think he does, either. The only time we have problems with Dean's behaviour is during our learning time," Annie explained.
"I'm not sure I'm following you. Do you think he has some type of learning disability?" Mary asked.
"Just the opposite, actually. I think he's very intelligent, and the reason he's acting out is because he's bored. He finishes his assignments quickly and he wants the other kids to play with him, and gets frustrated because they're not done, and can't. Dean's always finished first."
Mary couldn't help the smile that broke out on her face. She knew her boy was smart.
"Look at this," Annie said and handed her Dean's assignment sheet. "Look at how he wrote his last name."
"It looks like a gun," Mary said. "His father was a marine and he had an old marine buddy at the house. Dean must have heard them talking. John's friend was talking about Winchester rifles," Mary said a little defensively.
"It's okay. I would have been concerned if he had drawn himself shooting someone with it, but he drew it to represent his last name, because he didn't know how to spell it," Annie explained. "I think Dean's ready for school, and this just confirmed what I'm thinking. How many four year olds would use the logic of drawing a picture for their last name?"
"Dean doesn't turn five until the end of January," Mary explained. "He's not eligible to go until next year."
"Have you thought of having him tested for early admission?"
That surprised Mary. "I didn't think we could."
"I personally think that Dean needs to skip kindergarten and go into grade one. It would probably give him the challenge he needs. I think he'd be as bored in kindergarten as he is here. You should think about it." Annie gave Mary some brochures on the testing process.
"Thank you," Mary said. "I'll speak to my husband about it tonight."
"No problem. For what it's worth, I think you have a really special boy."
--
Present
"So, Dean's preschool teacher said he should start school early?" Sam asked.
"Yeah," John confirmed. "Your mother told me all about it when I got home. We never really did get to do anything with it, though," John said. "You know what happened."
"Yeah," Sam said before his dad could get sad. "But wouldn't it have gotten noticed when we started school?"
"It did," John confirmed and he looked ashamed.
"What happened, dad?"
--
1984 - Blue Earth, Minnesota
John Winchester stood in front of the big, brick building, and felt his heart clench in his chest as he looked down at the small, blond boy who was clinging tightly to his arm. He was a little nervous about his eldest starting school. His mind was focused on one of the last conversations that he'd had with his wife.
It had been such a happy day. After John had finished at the shop, he had met his wife and they had gone to McDonald's and celebrated Sammy's six month birthday, and Mary told John all about what Dean's teacher had said. They had made the decision that they would have Dean tested over the Christmas break, and hope that he could start school that January.
They had one brief disagreement. John had been reluctant to let Dean skip a grade. He had no doubts that Dean would be able to handle the work, but he wasn't sure his son was ready socially. Dean hadn't had much of a chance to interact with the other kids, and John didn't want to put his son in a position he wasn't ready for.
Mary felt that Dean's intellectual development was more important. She felt that Dean would be worse off if he was bored.
John pointed out that school was a lot more than just learning, and that kids that stood out were made fun of, and John didn't want his son going through that.
They hadn't made any firm decisions because they both agreed to see what the results of the tests would be.
Shaking himself out of his memories, John looked down at his young son and squeezed his hand. "Ready?"
"I wanna go home, daddy," was the response he received.
Kneeling down so that he could look his son in the face, John pulled him into a hug. "You have to go to school, Dean," John said. "You really liked pre-school with Ms. Annie, remember?"
"I 'member, daddy. But who's going to read to Sammy? He don't like to sleep with no story."
"Pastor Jim promised he'd read him a story and you can read to him tonight, okay sport?"
"'Kay, daddy. Sammy likes Pastor Jim."
John smiled. That was Dean's way of saying he liked Pastor Jim. "Come on, let's go meet your teacher."
Dean followed his father into the scary building and down the hall to a classroom. Dean felt a bit of his anxiety ease when he looked around. There was a sandbox and a water tub, and blocks and toy cars. This place looked fun.
"Hello," they heard a voice call behind them.
John turned around and saw a pleasant looking woman walking toward them. "Hi," he answered. "I'm John Murphy and this is my boy, Dean." That was their cover story. John was pretending to be Pastor Jim's brother.
"Hi Dean. I'm Emily Mitchell. I'll be your teacher. "
Dean shrunk back behind his father's leg.
"He's a little shy," John explained.
Emily smiled at the young boy. "It's okay, Dean, we're going to have lots of fun. I'll show you your cubby and you can say goo..."
"See ya later," John interrupted. "Dean, you go with Ms. Mitchell and put your coat away, and then I'll come and we'll say see you later. I'll be right here when you get back. I promise, buddy."
Dean kept looking back over his shoulder at his father as he followed Emily to his cubby and put his bag in it. The teacher looked at John and she could clearly see that the boy's father wanted to have a word with her.
"Dean, can you take your things out of your backpack while I talk to your father and then I'll bring him to you."
"'Kay," Dean said and unzipped his bag.
Emily walked back over to John.
"Sorry about that," John replied. "It's just that Dean's mom..." he trailed off, trying to collect his emotions. "Dean's mom passed away last year and he doesn't like the word goodbye, so that's why we say 'see ya later.'"
"I'm so sorry," Emily said sincerely. "Thank you for telling me. I'll certainly keep that in mind."
"He also won't talk about her, so it's best that it's not mentioned," John replied.
Emily wasn't sure she agreed with that, but it wasn't her place to disagree, she had to comply with his father's wishes. "He'll be in good hands, Mr. Murphy."
John thanked the teacher and walked over to where Dean was putting crayons and pencils into his little cubby. John knelt down beside him once again.
"Okay, buddy. Daddy will be back at 3:00. You remember what time that is?"
Dean nodded. "The little hand is pointing at the three and the big on is at 12. Is that right, daddy?"
"You got it," he said with a grin. Dean had picked up telling time very easily. "It's 9:00am now. How many hours is that?"
"6, daddy," Dean answered.
"Right on the first try, kiddo," John said and reached out and ruffled Dean's hair like the proud father he was. "Now, remember what we talked about. What's your name?"
"Dean Murphy," he said robotically.
"Right, and remember when you're writing your name, don't draw the rifle after it." It had become Dean's signature. He had since learned to spell Winchester, but he liked drawing the picture after his name, since his mommy had said that it was very smart.
"I promise, daddy. Do I gotta stay here?"
"Yes son, but I'm sure you're going to have a great time," John said. "Can I have a hug?"
Dean jumped into his father's arms. "See ya, buddy."
"See ya, daddy," Dean said as he watched his father walk out the door.
--
Things were fine for about a week, and then the calls started coming, saying the same thing as before. Dean was disrupting the class, he wouldn't sit still. John was called to the school and he wondered if it was taught in teacher's college that if a child was disruptive, the first thing they were supposed to suggest was ADD.
John put his foot down and refused to consider that. He didn't want to mention what Dean's old teacher had said because he didn't want anything tying him to Lawrence. He asked her to check Dean's work first.
That was when he got a call and was once again asked if he would consider letting them put Dean up to the first grade.
John said no to that as well, again saying that he didn't think that Dean was ready socially. He didn't want the school's attention on them.
"Dean," John addressed his son one night when he was putting him to bed. "You're getting to be a big boy. Can we have a serious talk?"
"Was I bad, daddy?" Dean asked, his lower lip quivering.
"No buddy, no," John said and scooped Dean up into his arms. "You're a really good boy, Dean. You look after Sammy and help Pastor Jim."
"I help eat all his cookies, daddy," Dean said with a giggle.
"You didn't save any for me?" John asked with a pout that was half real and that made Dean laugh harder. The pastor made the best peanut butter cookies, although he loved hearing Dean laugh. It was such a rare sound these days.
"Pastor Jim said cookies were the last thing you needed," Dean said helpfully.
"He did, did he? I'll be sure to thank him for that. Any way Dean, I need you do to something for daddy."
"What is it?" Dean said, eager to please his father.
"At school, you know how your work is really easy? I need you to pretend that it's hard. Ask your teacher questions about it, okay?"
"Why daddy?" Dean asked in confusion.
"Because I need you to be like the other kids. Can you do that for me?"
"Yup," Dean agreed. "I love you, daddy," Dean said and hugged his father. Dean liked to tell his father that because it made him smile, and he liked making daddy smile again. Daddy didn't smile much anymore.
John swallowed the guilt that threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn't believe what he was asking his baby boy to do. "I love you too, baby," John said.
"DAADDDYYY," Dean said clearly exasperated. "I'm a big boy."
John laughed. "That you are, son," John replied as he pulled his boy into a big hug.
--
Present
"You told your son to play dumb?" Sam said in disbelief.
"No," John said defensively. "I just asked him not to stand out."
"How could you do that?" Sam was not about to let his father off the hook.
"I didn't have a choice, Sam."
"You always have a choice, dad, you usually just make the wrong one," Sam snapped.
"Can we not fight?" John asked, sounding tired.
"Why did you do it?" Sam asked. He was not about to let this go.
"Remember when you boys were in Lawrence?"
"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "What about it?"
"You talked to my old friend Mike. I'm guessing he said that he called social services," John said.
"Yeah, he did," Sam confirmed.
"Did you know I was about to lose you boys? I didn't cope well with your mom's death. I regret it, but I sort of crawled into a bottle and let Mike and Kathy take care of you two, but I got so tired of their lectures that I moved out. Kathy didn't think I was fit to look after you boys and a case worker showed up shortly afterward. I thank my lucky stars that I wasn't drunk that day, or I would have lost you boys on the spot. She said she was going to be doing follow up visits. She didn't like me and she was determined to find a way to take you boys from me. I couldn't let that happen. You two were the only thing keeping me sane. Missouri was at the apartment one day when the case worker showed up for a final visit. I was told that she was going to make a recommendation about whether or not I was capable of looking after you two. Missouri was able to read her and she told me that social worker was going to recommend that you be taken from me. I couldn't let that woman..." John paused, trying to keep the disgust out of his voice. "She decided I wasn't fit to look after you and she was apparently coming for you the next day. I packed a few clothes and a few toys, put you and your brother into the car and took off and never looked back. Missouri gave me Pastor Jim's name, and he gave us a home until I could get back on my feet."
"What does that have to do with you asking Dean to pretend he couldn't do his work?" Sam inquired in a curious tone. He wanted to know where his father was going with this.
"You have to understand, Sam, I didn't know what the situation was like in Lawrence. I can just imagine what happened when social services showed up at our apartment and we weren't there. I was…" John stopped abruptly as if he didn't want to admit his feelings.
Sam was not about to let him stop there. "What dad?" he insisted, his tone indicating that he was not about to take no for an answer.
"I was scared."
That brought Sam up short. His dad was a big, tough, former marine, a hunter. He was the strongest man Sam knew. He had seen his dad angry, sad, hurt and beaten to a bloody pulp, but Sam didn't think he had ever seen his dad afraid.
"Not even Vietnam scared me as much as when Missouri said they were coming for you and Dean. So when I got to Jim's, it was his idea to pretend that I was his brother. I didn't want anyone paying close attention to you boys for any reason, good or bad. Remember when I told you that all I saw was evil after your mother passed?" John asked.
Sam nodded.
"I didn't think that Dean's teacher was evil, but I didn't trust anyone, except Pastor Jim. I kept telling myself that if the teacher paid too much attention to Dean, that she would somehow connect him with Lawrence. I know the odds were against it, but it was a chance I wasn't willing to take. If I was found, I would have lost you boys. Your mother's death almost killed me. If I had lost you boys as well..." John couldn't finish.
He didn't have to. Sam knew what his father was thinking. His dad would have crawled into a bottle and never have come out.
"You and your brother most likely would have been separated. You would have been easy to place, as a lot of families wanted healthy babies. Dean was having problems, though. He had nightmares, and it was at least 4 months after your mother died before he started speaking again. I don't know if a foster family would have been willing to put up with that. He could have ended up in some hospital or group home. You were pretty much the only thing that was keeping him grounded. If he had been taken away from you, he would have been lost. That's why I did it, Sam. It's not something I'm proud of, but I was just so afraid."
This was something about his father that Sam had never heard before. Right now, his father looked so lost that Sam couldn't be mad at him.
"I'm guessing it worked?"
"Yeah, Dean's work was typical of any student," John confirmed. "A couple times, he couldn't hold back, but it happened rarely so that it could be considered a fluke."
"How come you didn't ask me to do the same?" Sam asked, although he was pretty sure he knew the answer.
"You and Dean were four years apart. By the time you started school, our disappearance would have been a cold case, plus I never got a call from your teacher that you were disrupting the class. It wasn't anything to do with how smart you were," John added quickly. "It was just you and your brother had different personalities. When you were done with your work, you were content to sit still and either work ahead, or just re-check your work. You always wanted to make sure it was perfect," John said with a grin.
Sam grinned. That was true.
"You were both naturally curious about how things worked. You were content to ask a million questions. Dean, on the other hand, was much more hands on. He had actually taken apart a telephone once before a teacher caught him. He never meant to, but your brother just has a way of drawing attention to himself."
"He does, doesn't he," Sam agreed. "Can I ask you something?"
"What?"
"Does this have anything to do with the reason we were taken from you that time?" Sam asked with a shudder, as he always did when he thought about the time that he and Dean had spent in foster care.
"Yeah, kiddo. That's an even longer story."
"Dean's probably going to be gone for a while. We've got time," Sam insisted firmly.
John took a deep breath and recalled one of the worst times of his life.
TBC
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