The Kid, Supernatural, G (yes, really)
Jul. 22nd, 2008 02:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: The Kid
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, John, Bobby
Rating: G
Genre: GEN (did you even know I could GEN?)
Word Count: 4647
Summary: Dean is 17, Sam is 13. It's the first day of school and Sam is excited. Dean, not so much. However, something strange is going on. The Impala is parked outside, their father's keys on the table, but who is this five year old kid hiding in their father's bedroom, and why is he saying his name is John Winchester?
A/Ns & Warnings: Um. This is at least partially![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
varkelton's fault. De-aging fic. Probably Part One of Two.
Dean pulled the pillow over his face and pressed down, trying to drown out the rambling voice of his brother, who was probably already dressed, his backpack on, ready to go to the first day of school.
The freak.
“Come on Dean, we’re gonna be late.”
Dean pulled the pillow down and looked up into the very earnest face of his very geeky brother. “Calm down squirt, it’s only the first day.”
“I don’t wanna be late.” Sam’s voice was a nasal whine.
“Maybe Dad will let us take the car.”
“Dad’s home?”
Sam was already racing out of the room they shared as Dean sat up. “I heard him come in around midnight.”
Dean got up and rummaged around for a shirt that didn’t smell like dirty laundry, then pulled his jeans on. He was shoving his feet into his boots when Sam came back with a frown on his face.
“Dad isn’t here.”
Dean crossed to the window and lifted the blind. “Car’s here. Maybe he’s out back.”
“I looked out back.” Sam said. “He’s not in his room or the kitchen or the bathroom.”
Dean stifled a yawn and turned Sam toward the kitchen. “Go get breakfast, I’ll look.”
Dean headed out the door to the porch, checking for blood stains or other signs that his father had come home injured or something. His bag was by the front door. His keys were on the coffee table. He definitely came home.
“Dad?” Dean leaned in the door of his father’s bedroom. There was no light in there and the morning light wasn’t penetrating the dark blanket they’d nailed up to let his father sleep in the mornings.
Dean let his eyes scan the room, trying to penetrate the gloom. Just as he was ready to leave, he saw movement. “Dad?”
There was someone in the corner. Dean moved into the room cautiously. “Dad, is that you?”
“Go away!”
Okay that was definitely not his father. Dean’s hand closed around the edge of the blanket and yanked. Sunlight streamed into the room. For a moment Dean just blinked at the kid huddled in the corner of his father’s room. The kid blinked back.
Then he bolted, yelling. Dean darted after him and together they bowled into Sammy who had come to see what the noise was, and the three of them went crashing into the ground.
“Dean?”
Dean rolled over, pulling them apart and stood. “Hold on Sam.” He pulled the kid upright and held his arm, squatting in front of him. “Who are you?”
The kid was maybe three and a half feet tall, with dark brown hair that was nearly as messy as Sam’s and a round face that looked vaguely familiar. He lifted his head and put on a brave face, though Dean could tell he was really scared.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“You’re in my house, I think you answer my question first.” Dean said, trying to not scare the kid more.
“Why am I here?”
“Tell me who you are and maybe I can figure out why you’re here.”
The kid pulled his arm free. “I’m John.”
Dean had a sick feeling in his stomach, but he pushed it away. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. “Okay, John. I’m Dean. This here is Sam.” He took a deep breath and looked at Sam, but Sam looked as spooked as Dean felt. “Do you have a last name?”
“Winchester. John Winchester.”
Dean fell onto his ass, shaking his head. No fucking way. The kid was in a raggedy pair of sweats that looked disturbingly like his father’s favorite pair of sweats and a t-shirt that could have been his dad’s.
“Dad?” Sam asked, reaching out to touch him.
The kid yanked away from Sam. Dean tried to reason around it. Tried to find something that made sense. The kid was shaking now.
“Where am I? Why did you bring me here? Are you going to hurt me?”
“Whoa, slow down.” Dean got up. “Why don’t you come sit down and I’ll try to answer your questions, and you can answer some of mine.”
John looked wary, but he nodded as Dean moved toward the couch, keeping himself between the kid and the door. The last thing he needed was for his father to bolt out the door with the body and mind of a five year old.
John sat on the edge of the couch and Sam came to stand next to Dean as he sat on the other end. “Okay, John. Um. Where are you? Well, we’re in a place called Bukhannon, in West Virginia.”
“West Virginia?” His lower lip trembled a bit. “I don’t know where that is.”
“Can you tell me how old you are?”
“I’ll be six in December.”
“Okay. Good.” Dean rubbed a hand over his face. This couldn’t be real. Not real. So not fucking real. Sam’s face was white, his hand on Dean’s shoulder a tight grip. Dean patted his hand. “And, what is the last thing you remember before waking up here?”
“My father put me to bed. Gave me Mr. Turtle. Turned off my light. I went to sleep.”
“Dean?” Sam squeezed his shoulder. “What happened?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“Why did you bring me here?” John asked. His arms were crossed and big tears were in his eyes.
“We didn’t.” Dean responded. “I don’t know why you’re here. Okay? We’ll figure it out.”
“I wanna go home.” John stood, stomping his little foot. “I wanna go home right now.”
“You are home.” Sam said.
“Sam. Stop.” Dean stood too, pushing Sam toward the door. “Go to school. I’ll deal with this. I’ll call…I don’t know Bobby or Pastor Jim.”
“I don’t want to.” Sam said pushing back. “I can help. Let me help.”
Dean leaned down. “Look, Sammy. I don’t know what this is. I’ve never heard of anything like this. If this is Dad, something bad got him last night. I need you to give me some time to figure it out. You can help when you get home, okay?”
Sam nodded, then looked back at John who was looking more and more freaked out by the minute. “Don’t be scared, kid, okay? We’re going to help you. It’s what we do. We help people.”
When Sam was gone Dean turned back to face his father. “Okay. I don’t know how to explain what I think happened so that you’ll understand it. But I promise you we aren’t going to hurt you. We just can’t take you home right now.”
“I want my father.”
“You and me both, Kid.” Dean muttered. “Are you hungry? We got some Lucky Charms. Maybe after breakfast…” he trailed off not sure what he was going to say.
John nodded guardedly. Dean tried to smile, then gestured toward the kitchen. “Lucky Charms it is.”
“I’m telling you, I heard the Impala pull in around midnight. We got up for school and Dad was…five.” Dean leaned around the archway into the kitchen where his father was sitting on a chair, feet dangling, eating Lucky Charms.
“Are you sure it’s him?”
“Dude! The kid is five, says his name is John Winchester and he wants to go home.”
“Where’s Sam?”
“I sent him to school. No point screwing that up. The last thing I need is some nosy social worker poking around.”
“Okay, I’m on my way. It’ll take a few days.”
“Especially the way you drive.” Dean muttered. “Thanks.” He hung up the phone and exhaled slowly before heading in to the kitchen. John was done eating. There was milk on the table, on his face. Dean snagged a paper towel and leaned in to clean him up, but John sat back stiffly. Dean handed the towel to him instead. “Wipe your face.”
“You’re not my father.”
Dean sat heavily in the chair opposite him. “No. I’m really not. But for now, I’m going to look after you until we figure out what’s going on, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. I want my father and my mom and Mr. Turtle. I want to go home.”
“I know you do. But. I don’t know if we can do that.” Dean ran a hand over his face and sighed. “I have a friend coming to help us. He’ll be here in a few days.”
“I want to go home now.” John was pouting, big tears in his eyes ready to fall.
“Well, Sam was right when he said this is home. We’re family.”
John looked at him like he was crazy. “Sam and me? We’re Winchesters too.”
“You are?”
Dean nodded. “Maybe that’s why you came here to us. So we could look after you.”
“I’m scared.”
Dean knew the feeling. He went to kneel by his father’s chair, turning it to face him. “I know you are. I’m scared too.”
“You are?”
Dean nodded. “Someone I love is missing, and I’m scared for him. But in his place I found you, and so I’m going to take care of you until I find him again.”
Bobby paced around the kitchen of the small house. Dean leaned on the door frame and watched him. In the living room Sam and John were playing with whatever toys Sam had managed to scrounge up.
John looked a little ridiculous in Sammy’s hand-me-downs. The pants were rolled up and the shirt fit more like a dress. At least he’d stopped randomly bursting into tears.
Bobby scratched at his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
Dean had found his father’s journal in the Impala and it was on the table. He’d been pouring over it trying to find some sort of clue. Bobby had just spent the last two hours doing the same thing.
“I mean, I’ve heard of spells that can temporarily de-age a person, but most of those affect either the mind or the body, not both.” He stroked over his beard and sighed. “This is deep magic, Dean. The kind I’ve never seen.”
“What are you saying?”
Bobby shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“We can’t just leave him like that.”
“We might not have a choice.”
Dean shook his head, standing upright and stalking toward Bobby. “No. No. Don’t even think that. There’s an answer. A…witch. Or…or some kind of demon. Something. Just tell me where to find it and how to kill it.” He was yelling and Bobby just stood there, waiting for him to be done.
“We’ll keep looking.” Bobby said softly.
“Fuck!” Dean huffed and backed away. “Fuck, Bobby.” He dragged both hands up over his face and through his hair. “I…just want my father back.”
“I know, Son. I know.”
“Dean?”
He turned around. Sam’s eyes were wide, his arm around John’s shoulders. John looked frightened. “You were yelling.”
Dean exhaled. “Sorry guys. I was a little upset. Why don’t you go play? I’ll make dinner.” Not that he knew what he was going to make. They didn’t have much.
“How about we go out for pizza?” Bobby said. “My treat.”
“Out?” Dean looked at him like he was crazy. He hadn’t let his father out of the house.
“Out.” Bobby’s hands on his shoulders pushed him toward the door. “We can get the kid some clothes at the thrift store in town, some shoes. Have a nice dinner and get a good night’s sleep. Come at this with fresh eyes tomorrow.”
John was clearly not all together sure about Bobby, but he climbed up in the booth at the pizza joint next to Sam. Dean sat next to Bobby, feeling like the whole town was staring at them.
At least John was dressed in clothes that fit him now. Bobby had sprung for a few pairs of jeans, some pajamas and t-shirts. Then there was the beat up cowboy hat. John had found it in a bin of random stuff, put it on his head and refused to take it off. Sam had been so helpful by finding him a pair of cowboy boots too.
He and John had wandered off into the toys section while Dean and Bobby rummaged for clothes that would fit the kid. When he heard screeching, Dean had gone running, only to find John squeezing the stuffing out of a stuffed elephant and turning around in circles.
Sam shrugged at him. “Mr. Turtle.”
Now the kid sat in his boots and ridiculous hat with the elephant up under his arm, telling Dean he wanted pizza with puppies and mushies. Bobby was snickering.
“Puppies and mushies?” It took Dean a minute to figure out he meant pepperoni and mushrooms, but then that was usually what his father ordered, so it made sense.
With the pizza ordered, Dean sat back and tried to relax. Beside him he could tell Bobby was looking for a way to say something Dean wasn’t going to like. “Just say it.” Dean said, nursing his coke and wishing he could have the beer sitting in front of Bobby.
“Okay. I think maybe you need to get him into school tomorrow.”
“What?”
Bobby took a deep pull on his beer. “Hear me out. You need to get your ass to school too. You said yourself you don’t need any social workers lurking around. I’ll stay a while, research, follow up on whatever he was working on, see if I can back track.”
“Who the hell am I supposed to say he is?”
Bobby shook his head. “Your brother? Your nephew? Whatever. Just tell them you’ll have his papers in a few days. I’ll get a friend of mine to work them up.”
Inside Dean was cussing a blue streak. He didn’t want to need a fake birth certificate. He wanted his father to be his father again. Not some five year old with a stuffed elephant and a cowboy fetish. He pushed it down and nodded. Bobby was right. They couldn’t afford attention. He could handle this.
“Okay. Fine. He goes to school in the morning.”
“School?” John looked up. “I don’t want to go to school.”
“School is fun.” Sam said. “You get to meet other kids and learn stuff and play.”
“I can play with you.” John said, his voice a little whiny.
“When we get home.” Sam said, patting his little hand. “You’ll love it, you’ll see.”
John didn’t look like he believed Sam, but they were saved from more talk about it by the arrival of the pizza. Dean watched them eat, his mind already starting to construct the story he’d tell the school. It had to be simple enough that John could remember it, and convincing enough that no one would go digging.
“But it’s a lie!” John said. “My mommy didn’t send me here!”
Dean took a deep breath. “I realize it’s a lie…but if we tell them the truth, they’ll take you away…and Sam and me will get in trouble. You don’t want me to go to jail do you?”
John’s eyes grew wide and he shook his head. “I like you.”
Dean chuckled a little. “I like you too Kid. Now, tell me the story again.”
“My mommy asked you to look after me while she finishes her job and moves here.”
Dean nodded. “Good. And who am I?”
“My uncle Dean.” He frowned. “Are you my uncle, Dean?”
“Not exactly. But it’s close enough. Okay?”
John nodded. “Okay.”
“You should probably leave Mr. Turtle here.”
John shook his head, clutching the elephant to him. “He goes with me.”
It wasn’t a fight Dean figured was worth fighting. He straightened out John’s shirt and stood. “Sammy! You ready?”
Dean poked his head into the kitchen where Bobby was already pouring over the journal again. “We’re out of here. See you around three.”
He grabbed the keys to the Impala and herded John and Sam out to the car. He helped John up into the back seat and circled around to the driver’s side. The whole idea made him nervous. John was adjusting well enough, only declared his desire to go home once or twice a day now and hadn’t cried since Bobby showed up.
He had crawled into Dean’s bed the night before, saying he’d had a nightmare. But Dean was used to that. Sammy still did that some nights.
Dean dropped Sam off first, then headed to the elementary school. John looked nervous as he got out of the car, and his little hand slipped into Dean’s as they headed up the walk and into the office.
The woman behind the desk was a pretty blond, and she smiled at them as they came in. Dean turned on his charm, lifting John up and settling him against his hip. “Morning.”
“How can I help you?”
“This here is John, my nephew. He’s just moving up here and I need to get him started in school.”
“Well, hello John. I’m Miss Hill.”
John looked at Dean, then the woman. It took a minute, but he smiled. “Hi.”
Dean sighed a little in relief. “I don’t have all his stuff, you know birth certificate and shot records and all that, but they’ll be here in a few days. His mother is bringing them when she comes.”
“I’m sure we can get started without them. I just have some paperwork for you to fill out.”
Twenty minutes later, Dean was holding John’s hand and following Miss Hill to the kindergarten. “This is your teacher, Ms. Martin. Ms. Martin, this is John Winchester. He’s just starting school.”
John clung to him for a few minutes, looking around the bright room and all the faces looking at him. Dean squatted down. “I’ll be back for you at the end of the day, okay Kid?”
John nodded, though he still looked terrified. “I don’t think I can do this,” he whispered to Dean, throwing his arms around Dean’s neck and holding on for dear life. “Don’t leave me alone.”
“You’re not alone. Look, there’s all these kids. They want to be your friends.”
Dean pried his hands free and looked John in the eye. “You have to be a brave little soldier, okay?”
John rolled his eyes at Dean. “I’m a cowboy, not a soldier.”
“Okay, whatever. Just…be good, okay?”
Ms. Martin reached out for John’s hand and he took it hesitantly. Dean waited until she’d gotten him sitting with the other kids, then backed away slowly.
“It’s always hard the first day.”
Dean nodded, watching through the window. “He’s had a rough couple of weeks.”
“Well, moving is always hard.” Miss Hill smiled softly at him.
“It was kind of a surprise to him too. He…doesn’t understand everything that’s happened, and I don’t really know how to tell him, you know?” He rubbed a hand through his hair and scratched at the back of his head.
“His mother isn’t actually coming, is she?”
Dean looked up, startled. “He doesn’t know. His parents…”
“How did they die?”
Dean opened his mouth, not sure what to say. “I…accident. My dad’s back there sorting stuff out.”
“Kids are resilient, Mr. Winchester.”
“Dean. I’m Dean.”
She smiled at him again. “You’re doing a good job, Dean. He’ll be okay. He’s young, and he obviously adores you.”
“I—thank you.” He should be getting out of there. He had to get to his own school. “I should go.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”
“I appreciate that. Thank you.”
School had never been Dean’s thing, but sitting there listening to some middle-aged man drone on and on while watching the clock was worse for knowing that the kid was waiting for him was killing him.
The kid, because no matter how hard he tried, Dean couldn’t think of him as John. John was his father. The ex-marine, demon-hunting bad ass.
The bell rang and Dean was up and out of his seat and half way to the Impala. All he could think about was the way the kid had held onto him and asked him not to leave.
Dean pulled into the parking lot of the elementary school. Miss Hill was standing beside John, holding his hand as they waited. Mr. Turtle dangled out of his other hand.
“See, I told you he’d be back.” She let go of John’s hand as Dean approached.
“You okay, buddy?” Dean asked, dropping to one knee in front of him.
John nodded, then launched himself at Dean. “I thought you forgot me.”
Dean stood, holding John to him. “Never. I told you I’d be back.” He looked at Miss Hill. “Thanks for waiting with him. I’m going to see if I can rearrange my class schedule to get here a little earlier.”
She smiled softly. “He can always hang out with me until you get here.”
“Thanks.”
“See you tomorrow John.”
Dean got John into the car and exhaled slowly. He was in way over his head with this. He could only hope Bobby found something.
“I got nothing.” Bobby said when Dean came back from putting John to bed. Days had past and they had exhausted John’s journal, Bobby’s knowledge, every contact that Dean knew. “Nothing.”
“How can there be nothing?” Dean’s stomach was twisted up as he paced around Bobby.
“I’ve got calls out to see if anyone has any ideas, but I gotta tell you Dean, I don’t think we’re going to fix this.”
“No. No. I’m not hearing this.” There was no way Dean was ready to be a full time father. Especially not to his father. Big brother to Sammy was one thing. But this was completely different.
“I called Pastor Jim earlier. He says you boys could come stay with him.”
Dean shook his head. “No. I’m not dropping my problems in his lap.” He paced around. “We’ll find something. We just have to look harder.”
“I already went back over his last two cases. Both basic poltergeists. Nothing that would cause this. I thought maybe a Trickster, but I can’t find any other cases. No missing people. No occult activity. Very little demon activity.”
“We’re missing something.”
Bobby sighed and shook his head. “I don’t like it any better than you do.” He pulled his hat off and scratched at his head. “Maybe I got a book or something back home. I can’t make promises.”
“A book? I have a little boy where I used to have a father for fuck’s sake.”
“Don’t get testy with me, I’m trying to help.”
“For all the good that’s done.” Dean muttered. He sighed. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault.”
He sat on the couch and covered his face with his hands. “I’m not sure what to do here.”
“You’re doing a good job, Dean. You’ve earned his trust. He’s really taken to Sam. You’ll be okay.”
“I’m no father.” Dean groaned as he sat back and looked up at Bobby. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“There’s always the off chance that it’ll just wear off. You know, if it’s a spell.”
Deep down though, Dean knew it wasn’t going to just wear off. It wasn’t a spell. He didn’t know what it was, but he was beginning to believe that maybe Bobby was right, as much as that thought terrified him. It had already been a week. A whole week.
“I’m going to have to tell him he can’t ever go home. That his parents are dead.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Bobby asked as Dean pushed up off the couch.
“I can’t keep lying to him. I can’t tell him everything, but he deserves to know.”
“Dean, he’s just a kid.”
“A kid who thinks his parents are waiting for him and that we’ll sort this whole thing out.” Dean shook his head. “I have to tell him something.” Dean paced a little.
“You should go to Jim.” Bobby said, grabbing at his duffle bag.
Dean shook his head. “No, this is family. I’ll…get a job…or something.”
“You don’t have to handle this on your own.”
“I know. We’ll be fine.” He walked with Bobby to the door.
“I won’t give up looking for an answer.”
“Neither will I.” Dean responded.
“Keep in touch. If you need anything—“
“Yeah, I know. I’ll call.”
“Watch your back.”
“I will.” Dean watched him leave. He had to talk to the kid. He closed the front door and went to the bedroom. John looked so small in the bed that he used to barely fit in. He opened his eyes as Dean came into the room. “Hey, you should be sleeping.”
“I was thinking.”
Dean sat on the bed and smoothed the blankets around him. “Oh, what about?”
“I think I came here because something happened at home and I couldn’t stay there.” John shifted around and sat up. “My mom used to cry a lot. My dad said she was sad, and I tried to cheer her up, but she just cried more. I think maybe I was making her sad.”
Dean frowned and shook his head. “I don’t think you made her sad.”
“Why did she cry all the time?”
Dean took a deep breath. “I don’t know. But I know she loved you.” He didn’t know much about his grandparents and had only very vague memories of his father’s father. He had no memories of his grandmother. “But, I think maybe you came here so I could keep you safe.”
John looked up at him. “Did something happen to my mother?”
“I’m not sure.” Dean said. “I think maybe.” Even though he knew he should just say it and be done with it, looking at his father’s young little face, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
“And my father?”
Dean pressed his lips together. “We’re still trying to find him.”
John nodded, looking down. “Would it be okay if you stayed with me and Sam for a while?” Dean asked softly.
“I miss them.” John replied, his hand snaking over the blankets to slip into Dean’s. “But I think they’d like it if they knew I had family watching over me.”
“Family.” Dean nodded. Because that was what it was about. Kid or not, John was family. “Good, because I kind of like having you around, Kid.” He stood and encouraged John to lay back down, tucking the blankets around him when he did. “Now, you get some sleep. Tomorrow we’ll head over to the park or something.”
He leaned down and kissed John’s forehead, then froze slightly. It felt natural, but still strange. “Night.”
“Night Dean.”
Dean closed his door half way, then went to the room he shared with Sam. His brother was asleep, long leg hanging off the side of the bed and blankets wound tight around him. Dean eased his leg back up onto the bed and smoothed out the blankets.
He was going to have to drop out of school. Not that he cared much, but Sam was going to pitch a fit. Maybe he could convince a garage to give him a chance, work as a mechanic or something. At least that way they could afford to eat.
Dean stripped out of his jeans and fell into his bed. The whole thing was exhausting. “Dean?”
He looked up to find John beside the bed. “Could I sleep with you?”
Dean nodded and scooted over, holding up the sheet to let John slide in beside him. It took him a minute to get comfortable, but then he was snoring quickly. Dean slung an arm over him, pulling him close and pressed a kiss to the back of his head. “What the fuck happened to you, Dad?” he whispered into John’s hair.
Nothing but the sounds of an old house and a cool night answered him though. Dean was clearly on his own.
Title: The Kid
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, John, Bobby
Rating: G
Genre: GEN (did you even know I could GEN?)
Word Count: 4647
Summary: Dean is 17, Sam is 13. It's the first day of school and Sam is excited. Dean, not so much. However, something strange is going on. The Impala is parked outside, their father's keys on the table, but who is this five year old kid hiding in their father's bedroom, and why is he saying his name is John Winchester?
A/Ns & Warnings: Um. This is at least partially
varkelton's fault. De-aging fic. Probably Part One of Two.Dean pulled the pillow over his face and pressed down, trying to drown out the rambling voice of his brother, who was probably already dressed, his backpack on, ready to go to the first day of school.
The freak.
“Come on Dean, we’re gonna be late.”
Dean pulled the pillow down and looked up into the very earnest face of his very geeky brother. “Calm down squirt, it’s only the first day.”
“I don’t wanna be late.” Sam’s voice was a nasal whine.
“Maybe Dad will let us take the car.”
“Dad’s home?”
Sam was already racing out of the room they shared as Dean sat up. “I heard him come in around midnight.”
Dean got up and rummaged around for a shirt that didn’t smell like dirty laundry, then pulled his jeans on. He was shoving his feet into his boots when Sam came back with a frown on his face.
“Dad isn’t here.”
Dean crossed to the window and lifted the blind. “Car’s here. Maybe he’s out back.”
“I looked out back.” Sam said. “He’s not in his room or the kitchen or the bathroom.”
Dean stifled a yawn and turned Sam toward the kitchen. “Go get breakfast, I’ll look.”
Dean headed out the door to the porch, checking for blood stains or other signs that his father had come home injured or something. His bag was by the front door. His keys were on the coffee table. He definitely came home.
“Dad?” Dean leaned in the door of his father’s bedroom. There was no light in there and the morning light wasn’t penetrating the dark blanket they’d nailed up to let his father sleep in the mornings.
Dean let his eyes scan the room, trying to penetrate the gloom. Just as he was ready to leave, he saw movement. “Dad?”
There was someone in the corner. Dean moved into the room cautiously. “Dad, is that you?”
“Go away!”
Okay that was definitely not his father. Dean’s hand closed around the edge of the blanket and yanked. Sunlight streamed into the room. For a moment Dean just blinked at the kid huddled in the corner of his father’s room. The kid blinked back.
Then he bolted, yelling. Dean darted after him and together they bowled into Sammy who had come to see what the noise was, and the three of them went crashing into the ground.
“Dean?”
Dean rolled over, pulling them apart and stood. “Hold on Sam.” He pulled the kid upright and held his arm, squatting in front of him. “Who are you?”
The kid was maybe three and a half feet tall, with dark brown hair that was nearly as messy as Sam’s and a round face that looked vaguely familiar. He lifted his head and put on a brave face, though Dean could tell he was really scared.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“You’re in my house, I think you answer my question first.” Dean said, trying to not scare the kid more.
“Why am I here?”
“Tell me who you are and maybe I can figure out why you’re here.”
The kid pulled his arm free. “I’m John.”
Dean had a sick feeling in his stomach, but he pushed it away. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. “Okay, John. I’m Dean. This here is Sam.” He took a deep breath and looked at Sam, but Sam looked as spooked as Dean felt. “Do you have a last name?”
“Winchester. John Winchester.”
Dean fell onto his ass, shaking his head. No fucking way. The kid was in a raggedy pair of sweats that looked disturbingly like his father’s favorite pair of sweats and a t-shirt that could have been his dad’s.
“Dad?” Sam asked, reaching out to touch him.
The kid yanked away from Sam. Dean tried to reason around it. Tried to find something that made sense. The kid was shaking now.
“Where am I? Why did you bring me here? Are you going to hurt me?”
“Whoa, slow down.” Dean got up. “Why don’t you come sit down and I’ll try to answer your questions, and you can answer some of mine.”
John looked wary, but he nodded as Dean moved toward the couch, keeping himself between the kid and the door. The last thing he needed was for his father to bolt out the door with the body and mind of a five year old.
John sat on the edge of the couch and Sam came to stand next to Dean as he sat on the other end. “Okay, John. Um. Where are you? Well, we’re in a place called Bukhannon, in West Virginia.”
“West Virginia?” His lower lip trembled a bit. “I don’t know where that is.”
“Can you tell me how old you are?”
“I’ll be six in December.”
“Okay. Good.” Dean rubbed a hand over his face. This couldn’t be real. Not real. So not fucking real. Sam’s face was white, his hand on Dean’s shoulder a tight grip. Dean patted his hand. “And, what is the last thing you remember before waking up here?”
“My father put me to bed. Gave me Mr. Turtle. Turned off my light. I went to sleep.”
“Dean?” Sam squeezed his shoulder. “What happened?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“Why did you bring me here?” John asked. His arms were crossed and big tears were in his eyes.
“We didn’t.” Dean responded. “I don’t know why you’re here. Okay? We’ll figure it out.”
“I wanna go home.” John stood, stomping his little foot. “I wanna go home right now.”
“You are home.” Sam said.
“Sam. Stop.” Dean stood too, pushing Sam toward the door. “Go to school. I’ll deal with this. I’ll call…I don’t know Bobby or Pastor Jim.”
“I don’t want to.” Sam said pushing back. “I can help. Let me help.”
Dean leaned down. “Look, Sammy. I don’t know what this is. I’ve never heard of anything like this. If this is Dad, something bad got him last night. I need you to give me some time to figure it out. You can help when you get home, okay?”
Sam nodded, then looked back at John who was looking more and more freaked out by the minute. “Don’t be scared, kid, okay? We’re going to help you. It’s what we do. We help people.”
When Sam was gone Dean turned back to face his father. “Okay. I don’t know how to explain what I think happened so that you’ll understand it. But I promise you we aren’t going to hurt you. We just can’t take you home right now.”
“I want my father.”
“You and me both, Kid.” Dean muttered. “Are you hungry? We got some Lucky Charms. Maybe after breakfast…” he trailed off not sure what he was going to say.
John nodded guardedly. Dean tried to smile, then gestured toward the kitchen. “Lucky Charms it is.”
“I’m telling you, I heard the Impala pull in around midnight. We got up for school and Dad was…five.” Dean leaned around the archway into the kitchen where his father was sitting on a chair, feet dangling, eating Lucky Charms.
“Are you sure it’s him?”
“Dude! The kid is five, says his name is John Winchester and he wants to go home.”
“Where’s Sam?”
“I sent him to school. No point screwing that up. The last thing I need is some nosy social worker poking around.”
“Okay, I’m on my way. It’ll take a few days.”
“Especially the way you drive.” Dean muttered. “Thanks.” He hung up the phone and exhaled slowly before heading in to the kitchen. John was done eating. There was milk on the table, on his face. Dean snagged a paper towel and leaned in to clean him up, but John sat back stiffly. Dean handed the towel to him instead. “Wipe your face.”
“You’re not my father.”
Dean sat heavily in the chair opposite him. “No. I’m really not. But for now, I’m going to look after you until we figure out what’s going on, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. I want my father and my mom and Mr. Turtle. I want to go home.”
“I know you do. But. I don’t know if we can do that.” Dean ran a hand over his face and sighed. “I have a friend coming to help us. He’ll be here in a few days.”
“I want to go home now.” John was pouting, big tears in his eyes ready to fall.
“Well, Sam was right when he said this is home. We’re family.”
John looked at him like he was crazy. “Sam and me? We’re Winchesters too.”
“You are?”
Dean nodded. “Maybe that’s why you came here to us. So we could look after you.”
“I’m scared.”
Dean knew the feeling. He went to kneel by his father’s chair, turning it to face him. “I know you are. I’m scared too.”
“You are?”
Dean nodded. “Someone I love is missing, and I’m scared for him. But in his place I found you, and so I’m going to take care of you until I find him again.”
Bobby paced around the kitchen of the small house. Dean leaned on the door frame and watched him. In the living room Sam and John were playing with whatever toys Sam had managed to scrounge up.
John looked a little ridiculous in Sammy’s hand-me-downs. The pants were rolled up and the shirt fit more like a dress. At least he’d stopped randomly bursting into tears.
Bobby scratched at his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
Dean had found his father’s journal in the Impala and it was on the table. He’d been pouring over it trying to find some sort of clue. Bobby had just spent the last two hours doing the same thing.
“I mean, I’ve heard of spells that can temporarily de-age a person, but most of those affect either the mind or the body, not both.” He stroked over his beard and sighed. “This is deep magic, Dean. The kind I’ve never seen.”
“What are you saying?”
Bobby shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“We can’t just leave him like that.”
“We might not have a choice.”
Dean shook his head, standing upright and stalking toward Bobby. “No. No. Don’t even think that. There’s an answer. A…witch. Or…or some kind of demon. Something. Just tell me where to find it and how to kill it.” He was yelling and Bobby just stood there, waiting for him to be done.
“We’ll keep looking.” Bobby said softly.
“Fuck!” Dean huffed and backed away. “Fuck, Bobby.” He dragged both hands up over his face and through his hair. “I…just want my father back.”
“I know, Son. I know.”
“Dean?”
He turned around. Sam’s eyes were wide, his arm around John’s shoulders. John looked frightened. “You were yelling.”
Dean exhaled. “Sorry guys. I was a little upset. Why don’t you go play? I’ll make dinner.” Not that he knew what he was going to make. They didn’t have much.
“How about we go out for pizza?” Bobby said. “My treat.”
“Out?” Dean looked at him like he was crazy. He hadn’t let his father out of the house.
“Out.” Bobby’s hands on his shoulders pushed him toward the door. “We can get the kid some clothes at the thrift store in town, some shoes. Have a nice dinner and get a good night’s sleep. Come at this with fresh eyes tomorrow.”
John was clearly not all together sure about Bobby, but he climbed up in the booth at the pizza joint next to Sam. Dean sat next to Bobby, feeling like the whole town was staring at them.
At least John was dressed in clothes that fit him now. Bobby had sprung for a few pairs of jeans, some pajamas and t-shirts. Then there was the beat up cowboy hat. John had found it in a bin of random stuff, put it on his head and refused to take it off. Sam had been so helpful by finding him a pair of cowboy boots too.
He and John had wandered off into the toys section while Dean and Bobby rummaged for clothes that would fit the kid. When he heard screeching, Dean had gone running, only to find John squeezing the stuffing out of a stuffed elephant and turning around in circles.
Sam shrugged at him. “Mr. Turtle.”
Now the kid sat in his boots and ridiculous hat with the elephant up under his arm, telling Dean he wanted pizza with puppies and mushies. Bobby was snickering.
“Puppies and mushies?” It took Dean a minute to figure out he meant pepperoni and mushrooms, but then that was usually what his father ordered, so it made sense.
With the pizza ordered, Dean sat back and tried to relax. Beside him he could tell Bobby was looking for a way to say something Dean wasn’t going to like. “Just say it.” Dean said, nursing his coke and wishing he could have the beer sitting in front of Bobby.
“Okay. I think maybe you need to get him into school tomorrow.”
“What?”
Bobby took a deep pull on his beer. “Hear me out. You need to get your ass to school too. You said yourself you don’t need any social workers lurking around. I’ll stay a while, research, follow up on whatever he was working on, see if I can back track.”
“Who the hell am I supposed to say he is?”
Bobby shook his head. “Your brother? Your nephew? Whatever. Just tell them you’ll have his papers in a few days. I’ll get a friend of mine to work them up.”
Inside Dean was cussing a blue streak. He didn’t want to need a fake birth certificate. He wanted his father to be his father again. Not some five year old with a stuffed elephant and a cowboy fetish. He pushed it down and nodded. Bobby was right. They couldn’t afford attention. He could handle this.
“Okay. Fine. He goes to school in the morning.”
“School?” John looked up. “I don’t want to go to school.”
“School is fun.” Sam said. “You get to meet other kids and learn stuff and play.”
“I can play with you.” John said, his voice a little whiny.
“When we get home.” Sam said, patting his little hand. “You’ll love it, you’ll see.”
John didn’t look like he believed Sam, but they were saved from more talk about it by the arrival of the pizza. Dean watched them eat, his mind already starting to construct the story he’d tell the school. It had to be simple enough that John could remember it, and convincing enough that no one would go digging.
“But it’s a lie!” John said. “My mommy didn’t send me here!”
Dean took a deep breath. “I realize it’s a lie…but if we tell them the truth, they’ll take you away…and Sam and me will get in trouble. You don’t want me to go to jail do you?”
John’s eyes grew wide and he shook his head. “I like you.”
Dean chuckled a little. “I like you too Kid. Now, tell me the story again.”
“My mommy asked you to look after me while she finishes her job and moves here.”
Dean nodded. “Good. And who am I?”
“My uncle Dean.” He frowned. “Are you my uncle, Dean?”
“Not exactly. But it’s close enough. Okay?”
John nodded. “Okay.”
“You should probably leave Mr. Turtle here.”
John shook his head, clutching the elephant to him. “He goes with me.”
It wasn’t a fight Dean figured was worth fighting. He straightened out John’s shirt and stood. “Sammy! You ready?”
Dean poked his head into the kitchen where Bobby was already pouring over the journal again. “We’re out of here. See you around three.”
He grabbed the keys to the Impala and herded John and Sam out to the car. He helped John up into the back seat and circled around to the driver’s side. The whole idea made him nervous. John was adjusting well enough, only declared his desire to go home once or twice a day now and hadn’t cried since Bobby showed up.
He had crawled into Dean’s bed the night before, saying he’d had a nightmare. But Dean was used to that. Sammy still did that some nights.
Dean dropped Sam off first, then headed to the elementary school. John looked nervous as he got out of the car, and his little hand slipped into Dean’s as they headed up the walk and into the office.
The woman behind the desk was a pretty blond, and she smiled at them as they came in. Dean turned on his charm, lifting John up and settling him against his hip. “Morning.”
“How can I help you?”
“This here is John, my nephew. He’s just moving up here and I need to get him started in school.”
“Well, hello John. I’m Miss Hill.”
John looked at Dean, then the woman. It took a minute, but he smiled. “Hi.”
Dean sighed a little in relief. “I don’t have all his stuff, you know birth certificate and shot records and all that, but they’ll be here in a few days. His mother is bringing them when she comes.”
“I’m sure we can get started without them. I just have some paperwork for you to fill out.”
Twenty minutes later, Dean was holding John’s hand and following Miss Hill to the kindergarten. “This is your teacher, Ms. Martin. Ms. Martin, this is John Winchester. He’s just starting school.”
John clung to him for a few minutes, looking around the bright room and all the faces looking at him. Dean squatted down. “I’ll be back for you at the end of the day, okay Kid?”
John nodded, though he still looked terrified. “I don’t think I can do this,” he whispered to Dean, throwing his arms around Dean’s neck and holding on for dear life. “Don’t leave me alone.”
“You’re not alone. Look, there’s all these kids. They want to be your friends.”
Dean pried his hands free and looked John in the eye. “You have to be a brave little soldier, okay?”
John rolled his eyes at Dean. “I’m a cowboy, not a soldier.”
“Okay, whatever. Just…be good, okay?”
Ms. Martin reached out for John’s hand and he took it hesitantly. Dean waited until she’d gotten him sitting with the other kids, then backed away slowly.
“It’s always hard the first day.”
Dean nodded, watching through the window. “He’s had a rough couple of weeks.”
“Well, moving is always hard.” Miss Hill smiled softly at him.
“It was kind of a surprise to him too. He…doesn’t understand everything that’s happened, and I don’t really know how to tell him, you know?” He rubbed a hand through his hair and scratched at the back of his head.
“His mother isn’t actually coming, is she?”
Dean looked up, startled. “He doesn’t know. His parents…”
“How did they die?”
Dean opened his mouth, not sure what to say. “I…accident. My dad’s back there sorting stuff out.”
“Kids are resilient, Mr. Winchester.”
“Dean. I’m Dean.”
She smiled at him again. “You’re doing a good job, Dean. He’ll be okay. He’s young, and he obviously adores you.”
“I—thank you.” He should be getting out of there. He had to get to his own school. “I should go.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”
“I appreciate that. Thank you.”
School had never been Dean’s thing, but sitting there listening to some middle-aged man drone on and on while watching the clock was worse for knowing that the kid was waiting for him was killing him.
The kid, because no matter how hard he tried, Dean couldn’t think of him as John. John was his father. The ex-marine, demon-hunting bad ass.
The bell rang and Dean was up and out of his seat and half way to the Impala. All he could think about was the way the kid had held onto him and asked him not to leave.
Dean pulled into the parking lot of the elementary school. Miss Hill was standing beside John, holding his hand as they waited. Mr. Turtle dangled out of his other hand.
“See, I told you he’d be back.” She let go of John’s hand as Dean approached.
“You okay, buddy?” Dean asked, dropping to one knee in front of him.
John nodded, then launched himself at Dean. “I thought you forgot me.”
Dean stood, holding John to him. “Never. I told you I’d be back.” He looked at Miss Hill. “Thanks for waiting with him. I’m going to see if I can rearrange my class schedule to get here a little earlier.”
She smiled softly. “He can always hang out with me until you get here.”
“Thanks.”
“See you tomorrow John.”
Dean got John into the car and exhaled slowly. He was in way over his head with this. He could only hope Bobby found something.
“I got nothing.” Bobby said when Dean came back from putting John to bed. Days had past and they had exhausted John’s journal, Bobby’s knowledge, every contact that Dean knew. “Nothing.”
“How can there be nothing?” Dean’s stomach was twisted up as he paced around Bobby.
“I’ve got calls out to see if anyone has any ideas, but I gotta tell you Dean, I don’t think we’re going to fix this.”
“No. No. I’m not hearing this.” There was no way Dean was ready to be a full time father. Especially not to his father. Big brother to Sammy was one thing. But this was completely different.
“I called Pastor Jim earlier. He says you boys could come stay with him.”
Dean shook his head. “No. I’m not dropping my problems in his lap.” He paced around. “We’ll find something. We just have to look harder.”
“I already went back over his last two cases. Both basic poltergeists. Nothing that would cause this. I thought maybe a Trickster, but I can’t find any other cases. No missing people. No occult activity. Very little demon activity.”
“We’re missing something.”
Bobby sighed and shook his head. “I don’t like it any better than you do.” He pulled his hat off and scratched at his head. “Maybe I got a book or something back home. I can’t make promises.”
“A book? I have a little boy where I used to have a father for fuck’s sake.”
“Don’t get testy with me, I’m trying to help.”
“For all the good that’s done.” Dean muttered. He sighed. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault.”
He sat on the couch and covered his face with his hands. “I’m not sure what to do here.”
“You’re doing a good job, Dean. You’ve earned his trust. He’s really taken to Sam. You’ll be okay.”
“I’m no father.” Dean groaned as he sat back and looked up at Bobby. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“There’s always the off chance that it’ll just wear off. You know, if it’s a spell.”
Deep down though, Dean knew it wasn’t going to just wear off. It wasn’t a spell. He didn’t know what it was, but he was beginning to believe that maybe Bobby was right, as much as that thought terrified him. It had already been a week. A whole week.
“I’m going to have to tell him he can’t ever go home. That his parents are dead.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Bobby asked as Dean pushed up off the couch.
“I can’t keep lying to him. I can’t tell him everything, but he deserves to know.”
“Dean, he’s just a kid.”
“A kid who thinks his parents are waiting for him and that we’ll sort this whole thing out.” Dean shook his head. “I have to tell him something.” Dean paced a little.
“You should go to Jim.” Bobby said, grabbing at his duffle bag.
Dean shook his head. “No, this is family. I’ll…get a job…or something.”
“You don’t have to handle this on your own.”
“I know. We’ll be fine.” He walked with Bobby to the door.
“I won’t give up looking for an answer.”
“Neither will I.” Dean responded.
“Keep in touch. If you need anything—“
“Yeah, I know. I’ll call.”
“Watch your back.”
“I will.” Dean watched him leave. He had to talk to the kid. He closed the front door and went to the bedroom. John looked so small in the bed that he used to barely fit in. He opened his eyes as Dean came into the room. “Hey, you should be sleeping.”
“I was thinking.”
Dean sat on the bed and smoothed the blankets around him. “Oh, what about?”
“I think I came here because something happened at home and I couldn’t stay there.” John shifted around and sat up. “My mom used to cry a lot. My dad said she was sad, and I tried to cheer her up, but she just cried more. I think maybe I was making her sad.”
Dean frowned and shook his head. “I don’t think you made her sad.”
“Why did she cry all the time?”
Dean took a deep breath. “I don’t know. But I know she loved you.” He didn’t know much about his grandparents and had only very vague memories of his father’s father. He had no memories of his grandmother. “But, I think maybe you came here so I could keep you safe.”
John looked up at him. “Did something happen to my mother?”
“I’m not sure.” Dean said. “I think maybe.” Even though he knew he should just say it and be done with it, looking at his father’s young little face, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
“And my father?”
Dean pressed his lips together. “We’re still trying to find him.”
John nodded, looking down. “Would it be okay if you stayed with me and Sam for a while?” Dean asked softly.
“I miss them.” John replied, his hand snaking over the blankets to slip into Dean’s. “But I think they’d like it if they knew I had family watching over me.”
“Family.” Dean nodded. Because that was what it was about. Kid or not, John was family. “Good, because I kind of like having you around, Kid.” He stood and encouraged John to lay back down, tucking the blankets around him when he did. “Now, you get some sleep. Tomorrow we’ll head over to the park or something.”
He leaned down and kissed John’s forehead, then froze slightly. It felt natural, but still strange. “Night.”
“Night Dean.”
Dean closed his door half way, then went to the room he shared with Sam. His brother was asleep, long leg hanging off the side of the bed and blankets wound tight around him. Dean eased his leg back up onto the bed and smoothed out the blankets.
He was going to have to drop out of school. Not that he cared much, but Sam was going to pitch a fit. Maybe he could convince a garage to give him a chance, work as a mechanic or something. At least that way they could afford to eat.
Dean stripped out of his jeans and fell into his bed. The whole thing was exhausting. “Dean?”
He looked up to find John beside the bed. “Could I sleep with you?”
Dean nodded and scooted over, holding up the sheet to let John slide in beside him. It took him a minute to get comfortable, but then he was snoring quickly. Dean slung an arm over him, pulling him close and pressed a kiss to the back of his head. “What the fuck happened to you, Dad?” he whispered into John’s hair.
Nothing but the sounds of an old house and a cool night answered him though. Dean was clearly on his own.
