Chapter 6: The Call

"Son, you have one phone call. I would suggest that you use it wisely. Do you understand what I mean?" asked the Sheriff.

"Yes, Sir. I understand," stated Dean with a forlorn look in his eyes and a slight quiver in his husky voice.

Sam and I knew that Dean dreaded making this phone call, in fact, Sam and I dreaded Dean making this phone call. There was no way that this would end well for any of us. First of all, Dad would not be happy that we had gone out riding in the car three counties away from where we were staying. The fact that Dean was speeding, brought attention to us by the police, tried to outrun a police officer, got caught, and then got arrested and taken to the police station was not technically our fault, but Dad wasn't big on figuring out technicalities when his kids were in trouble. All he knew was that Winchester children had to learn from their mistakes, and he was excellent at helping us learn the lesson. He made sure that we thought long and hard before we ever made the same mistake twice. He wasn't abusive or anything like that; he never beat us or knocked us around, but he could definitely make an impression where it counted. I had a feeling this was going to be one of the times that John Winchester felt that we needed to learn from our mistakes.

Dean was shifting from one foot to the other as he called Dad's cell phone number and listened as it rang. I could see his Adam's apple rise and fall as he swallowed deeply with each anxious breath. The fact that Dean, my happy-go-lucky brother, was this nervous increased my feeling of dread. I could also see his guilt-ridden countenance as he closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face. I watched as Dean listened to the phone ringing, and then we heard him.

"Hello?"

"Um….Dad?"

"Dean? Everything ok, Son?"

"Um..Not exactly. Dad…..", Dean paused.

"What is it, Dean? What's wrong? Is it Kellie? Is she hurt again?"

"No, Sir. It's nothing like that. We are all fine; no one is hurt. But….um….Dad…", Dean was stammering trying to find the right words to say.

"Michael Dean Winchester! Stop with this foolishness! What's going on? Tell me now!" Dad said in his most authoritative voice.

"Yes, Sir. Dad we are at the jail." As Dean told Dad this, I watched as he quickly dropped his head. It was as if he couldn't look dad in the eyes even though he wasn't here. He was afraid of the disappointment that he knew would be in dad's eyes. I saw tears begin to pool in his eyes, and his voice became even deeper than usual.

"Dean, did I hear you correctly? Did you say that you were at the jail?"

"Yes, Sir. Dad, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Son, we'll talk about all of that later. I'm only about an hour away; I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Dad, we're in Grayson County."

"Grayson? Dean, we are staying in Burke."

"Yes, Sir. I know, Dad."

Dad paused for a moment. "Ok, Dean. Well, that is even closer to where I am right now. I should be there in about 30-45 minutes. Dean, are you ok?"

"Yes, Sir. Daddy, I really am sorry."

"I know, Son. I'll see you soon."

When I heard Dean say "Daddy". I knew things were really bad. It had been several years since he had called him that, and the fact that he reverted to it now, let me know that Dean was scared. He wasn't necessarily afraid of Dad but of the situation that we were in. He knew that we had crossed the line this time, and that there could be consequences that none of us wanted to think about. What if the Sheriff called DSS? Would they find out that dad had been gone for almost two weeks while Sam and I were under the sole care of our sixteen-year-old brother? Would they realize that we were basically homeless living from one hotel to another? Would they take us away from Dad? None of us could fathom the possibility of living without our father, or separated from each other. It was then that I realized the heavy burden of responsibility that weighed upon Dean's shoulders at all times. No wonder he was always obeying Dad to the letter of the law; no wonder that he was always warning Sam and me about following the rules and being careful. He constantly lived with the pressure of keeping us looking like a "normal, American family" when we were anything but that. A new respect entered my very being that day for Dean and all that he had endured for the last twelve years. I purposed that I would try harder in the future to be more of a help than a hindrance to Dean

Dean walked back over to the sheriff. "I talked to my dad. He said that he will be here in 30-45 minutes. I also wanted to tell you that I'm really sorry; not just because I got caught, but because it happened in the first place. I knew better than to run, and I apologize for being so disrespectful and resisting my consequences. I would really like to tell your deputy as well, if that would be possible."

The sheriff paused for a moment trying to consider whether he was being conned, but then he said, "Son, you seem like a nice enough kid who has been brought up to know right from wrong. Am I right?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then what happened out there? The speeding I understand. Lots of sixteen-year-old boys speed when given the chance, but what I don't understand is the running from the law. Son, what were you thinking?"

"Sir, I don't know. I just sort of panicked. It was like the adrenaline kicked in, and before I even knew what was happening I was flying down that road. I've been taught better than that; you have to believe me. My dad has always made me own up to my wrongs and accept whatever consequences that came. You'll see when he gets here."

"I see," said the sheriff.

"Sir, am I going to jail"? I could tell that Dean was holding his breath waiting for the sheriff's answer. His face was tense and his green eyes were begging the sheriff for mercy.

"Son, we'll all sit down and talk about that with your father when he arrives."

"Yes, Sir." Dean walked over and sank into a chair beside Sam. He clasped his hands and leaned forward with his arms resting on his thighs. He let out a long, deep breath and closed his eyes. He looked as if he had the weight of the world riding on his shoulders, and in some ways, I suppose he did.

As he glanced sideways towards our direction, I heard him quietly say, "I'm really sorry. I blew it. I messed up big time. I'm so sorry." Then he quickly dropped his head before we could see the tears as they cut a path down his cheeks and fell onto his lap.