Fic: Dean Winchester, Patron Saint: Fight the Ooze
Title: Dean Winchester, Patron Saint: Fight the Ooze
Author: alexjanna91
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean, Jeremy (OC), Rachel
Series: Apple Pie Life
Rating: PG
Genre: AU-Canon Divergence post-Season 5
Word Count: 6,570
Warning: BAMF Dean, Parental Dean, Powers Dean, Kids, Asshole Parents
Summary: Dean was already having a shitty day. A bitchy angel and bitchy parents were just the icing on the cake.
A/N: Part of the Parton Saint arc of the Apple Pie Life verse.
*
She’d been following him off and on for two weeks. Dean could feel her disapproving stare practically burning a hole in the back of his head. At least she didn’t feel homicidal like Jogger Assassin had. That was something.
She may not have been homicidal exactly, but Dean was pretty sure Rachel would have been happier watching him dramatically bleeding out and flailing like an extra in a black and white western than she was watching him go about his daily activities.
It was an unsettling mystery as to why she’d been conspicuously stalking him. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of any of his usual stalkers since he’d nearly been made mincemeat by an angel assassin. So it was a surprise that when his finally started being shadowed again it was Rachel. Rachel who would have been perfectly happy letting him die a slow and painful death by angel poison.
Rachel’s attitude while observing him was borderline hostile and Dean was sure he’d have been a smoking smear on the pavement if Cas hadn’t given him special do not touch status. The only thing keeping him from shouting for Alfie, Inias, or Hester to come and glare her back to Heaven was the fact that she never once looked at one of his kids the way she looked at him.
She would send fleeting glances at his kids whenever he interacted with them, but it was like they were irrelevant. She didn’t care about them past the fact that they were tangentially related to Dean. Still unsettling, but not harmful so he let her stare daggers of disapproval at him all she wanted.
Or, he would have let her stare all she wanted, but he’d been having a really bad day; weird sounds coming from the Impala, a devastating nightmare, slicing his hand open making breakfast kind of bad. On top of that he’d been having flashes of splitting headaches complete with auditory and visual hallucinations for the last couple of days.
A headache would hit him and his ears would ring with high pitched electrical static, spikes of pain would stab his eyes when he tried to focus on the people around him. It was like he was staring at the sun every time a person passed by.
So, yeah, he was in a bad mood when Rachel suddenly popped up out of the corner of his eye and a massive blast of blinding light made his eyeballs feel like they were going to burst into flame.
“Motherfucker!” Dean slammed his hands over his eyes and doubled over trying to breathe through the pain.
Now, that, was just the icing on the fucking cake of how goddamn crappy his day had been going so far.
Several long moments later Dean cautiously dropped his hands blinking rapidly. Despite the massive black splotches in his vision he had not, in fact, been rendered blind.
Since he wasn’t blind and the pain had receded as if it hadn’t ever been there, Dean straightened up and turned to see Rachel standing in her librarian suit watching him with a curious frown on her face. He stormed toward her and the sight of her expression morphing back into her perpetual sneer of condescension made the anger in his gut burn hotter.
When he finally got to her he didn’t even try to modulate the volume of his voice. “Alright, lady, I don’t care why you’re following me around, but I’m so fucking done with it.” He was yelling loud enough to draw the attention of the other passersby walking down the sidewalk.
He didn’t notice that they were looking at him like he was a crazy hobo having a conversation with thin air.
“You obviously think I’m the dog shit on your shoes so why don’t you just fuck off and leave me alone!”
If it was even possible Rachel’s sneer ratcheted up a notch. “You are an insolent, imbecilic human and you have no right to give me orders.”
“I think I just did and, hey, fuck you very much!” Dean shouted back still oblivious to the alarmed looks he was getting.
Rachel gave him a very unpleasant mocking smirk. “Oh, how surprising. A human simpleton using foul language when his feeble intellect fails him.”
Dean never thought sarcasm (who knew angels even knew what sarcasm was) would piss him off so freaking much.
He growled through gritted teeth. “I swear to god-”
“How dare you take my Father’s name in vain!”
“-I am this close to shankin’a bitch.”
“I should smite you right here, you primitive little-”
“Keep talking, lady. I fucking dare you!”
Fortunately, for the now terrified bystanders, Rachel and Dean’s increasingly heated argument was interrupted by a muffled blast of Led Zeppelin.
Cursing, Dean glared bloody murder at Rachel, the look was returned tenfold, as he wrestled his cell from his jean pocket.
Flipping it open hard enough to nearly break the thing in half, Dean snapped, “What!”
A cool unemotional voice came over the line. “Is this Mr. Dean Campbell?”
Dean focused all his attention from his enraged glaring match with Rachel to the phone call. No one should have this number except his kids, his kids’ parents, and Bobby.
“Yeah, who’s this?” He didn’t really mean to snap at the woman on the other end, but he was still riding a wave of residual anger at the angel bitch and he didn’t want to expend the energy to measure his tone.
“I’m the secretary at West Middle School. I’m calling in regards to Jeremy Carver.”
Dean’s heart skipped a beat.
His mind was racing through all the increasingly horrible reasons for Jeremy’s school to have called him. Jeremy had lost his dad, moved to a new city, and nearly been eaten by a rawhead all in a little over a year. The kid had enough bad luck as it was, Dean didn’t even want to think about why his school was calling.
“What’s wrong with Jeremy? Is he alright?” He demanded sharply. Dean was already jogging toward the parking lot, Baby’s keys looped around his finger jangling in the air. His mind was solely on Jeremy and he only distantly registered that Rachel had taken the opportunity to flitter-fuck off to somewhere else (fucking finally).
“Jeremy is unhurt. However, Principal Spaulding requests your presence to discuss a disciplinary issue,” the lady said with thinly veiled superiority in her voice.
Frowning, Dean paused in his rush to start the Impala. Jeremy was generally a quiet kid. He hadn’t yet bought into all that preteen arrogance and didn’t buck Dean’s authority like he imagined regular middle schoolers would. As far as he knew Jeremy had never had a problem with getting in trouble in school.
“What exactly does ‘disciplinary issue’ mean?” He asked, unable to imagine a likely scenario.
“Jeremy was involved in a physical altercation with another student,” the secretary answered, her voice dripping with haughty disapproval.
“You mean Jeremy was in a fight.” Dean wanted to be amused considering he was no stranger to schoolyard fights, but the image of Jeremy beating on another kid didn’t fit.
There was an audible sniff on the other end. “Precisely.”
Dean rolled his eyes and finally started the engine. He wasn’t a stranger to bitchy school secretaries either. “Alright then, I’ll be there in ten.”
“Principal Spaulding will be waiting for you.” The secretary hung up without a goodbye and Dean thought that even the dial tone sounded disapproving.
*
Dean had been to West Middle School a few times to pick up Jeremy when his mother, Alice, had to work a late shift. He knew his way around to the parking lot and was parked and heading inside in no time at all. Having never actually been inside though, it took him a few embarrassingly long minutes to figure out where the principal’s office was.
He swore it’s like a maze in there. Four different dead ends and two random courtyards, but finally he found the office.
Inside, across from the high desk of the scowling old secretary were two young boys sitting on opposite sides of a row of uncomfortable plastic chairs.
One of them was on the chubby side, over indulging chubby not hanging onto his baby fat chubby. He was nursing a bloody nose and developing an impressive shiner. His hair was frosted on the tips and spiked up with way too much gel. He was glaring around the office, outraged with his treatment and trying to look dignified even though his fashionably pink polo shirt was sprinkled with blood.
The other boy was sitting slouched in his seat with his arms sullenly crossed over his chest. His shaggy brown hair was falling in his face, his eyes were red around the edges, and his cheeks were flushed. The worst of his injuries were a minor split lip and reddened knuckles. He was glaring too, but it was all anger and righteousness.
Dean eyed the two boys and strode over dropping into the empty seat next to the angry one.
“Hey, kid.”
Jeremy flicked his eyes toward Dean. “Hey.”
“Want to tell me why I got a call from Ms. Disapproval over there?” He nodded toward the secretary glaring at him as well as the boys.
“No.” Jeremy lowered his head and sank further into his seat.
“Yeah, that’s not gonna fly, kid.”
The boy huffed. “It’s no big deal. You didn’t even have to come.”
Dean snorted. “Bullshit. Of course I had to come. Some old broad with a stick up her butt tells me you got in a fight at school. No way I’m not showing up for that.”
Jeremy didn’t say anything, but he was eyeing Dean with a tentative look.
Looking around the kid, Dean studied the other boy.
“Well, at least you learned something in those defense classes.”
A small smirk curled at Jeremy’s lips. “I didn’t know his nose would bleed that much.”
Dean nodded sagely. “Almost as bad as head wounds, kid.”
The office doors burst opened then and a couple rushed in dressed in designer clothes wearing overly dramatic expressions of worry.
“Oh, Dudley! What happened? Are you hurt? What did that boy do to you?” The kid’s mother fell on her son and started fawning and petting him like he was on his death bed.
Dean watched the entire spectacle with a raised eyebrow. The kid, Dudley apparently, soaked up the attention and milked it for all it was worth. He gave off little whimpers and kicked puppy looks and leaned into his mother like he couldn’t hold himself up.
“It’s alright, son. We’ll make sure nothing like this happens again.” Dudley’s father was scowling at Jeremy like the entire thing was his fault.
Jeremy shrank into Dean’s side dipping his head down so his hair hid more of his face.
Dean wrapped an arm around him and glared darkly at the other kid’s dad. Just watching the way these people were acting in the first two minutes, he knew he wasn’t going to like any of what happened next.
One of the inner office doors opened and a middle aged man with a receding hairline poked his head out. The moment he saw the spectacle in the front office his face fell. Apparently he was not happy to see Dudley’s parents. He put on an anemic smile and pushed his door open further in invitation.
“Ah, good. You’re all here. Please come into my office and we can discuss the situation.”
Principle Spaulding looked beyond reluctant to be having this meeting and Dean didn’t blame him. Already he could tell that Mr. and Mrs. Dudley’s Parents were going to be a pain in the ass.
The five of them, two bruised up boys, two scowling parents, and a semi-retired hunter-slash-nanny trudged into the principal’s office and took their seats. There were only three guest chairs so Mrs. Dramatic Mom and Dudley commandeered two while Mr. Scowly Dad stood behind them.
The air was tense and Dean’s hackles had been up since the other parents had walked in the door and his protective instincts had kicked in. He needed to be standing just in case. Logically he knew there wasn’t any reason to expect a fight, but being able to move around helped calm the hunter inside him. He guided Jeremy to the free chair and planted himself behind it like a sentinel.
Principal Spaulding sat in his battered leather chair behind his desk shifting uncomfortably as he looked at the unhappy group before him.
“Principal Spaulding, I demand to know what exactly happened to my son,” Dudley’s father, predictably, demanded.
“Ah -ahem- yes well, Mr. Cartwright. It appears that Jeremy and Dudley had some kind of a disagreement in homeroom that resulted in a physical altercation,” Spaulding explained.
Dean held back a snort. It was pretty freaking obvious the boys got into a “physical altercation”. Jeremy had a split lip and Dudley had a black eye and a bloody nose.
“And what are you going to do about it?” Mrs. Cartwright demanded glaring expectantly at the man.
Obviously the Cartwrights liked to demand things and from the entitled looks on their faces they were not used to being told no.
“I -uh- well, we have a zero tolerance policy regarding violence so the -uh- the boys will have to be punished.” Spaulding squirmed awkwardly in his seat avoiding eye contact and fiddling with the pen lying on his desk.
Dean raised an eyebrow. He’d never had a principal that was so hesitant. All of his principals had been more than ready to hand out detentions and suspensions and on one memorable occasion an expulsion. This guy seemed like a total pushover.
“Excuse me?” Mrs. Cartwright straightened in her seat her arm still wrapped around Dudley’s shoulders. “Our Dudley would never start a fight. He won’t be punished for defending himself!”
Dean was able to see exactly where this was going and he didn’t like it one bit.
Spaulding sputtered and shifted and grimaced. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cartwright, but it is school policy.”
“Nonsense!” Mr. Cartwright burst. “Obviously that other boy attacked my son. I’ll sue the school for not providing a safe learning environment if you don’t handle this the way it should be!”
Fuck, this asshole’s a lawyer. Dean sneered internally. Just freaking perfect. Hopefully Spaulding had more balls than he looked like.
“Right, yes. In that case,” nope, hoped too soon, “since it was self-defense, I suppose we can-”
“Hey! No.” All attention snapped to Dean and he took a step forward interrupting the principal totally crumbling under pressure. “We haven’t even heard the boys’ story. No way are you putting all this on Jeremy.”
Mr. Cartwright sneered and looked Dean up and down taking in his scuffed work boots, frayed jeans, and worn plaid shirt. “Who are you, exactly? It was my understanding that Ms. Carver didn’t have a husband.”
The way he said that implied all kinds of insulting things about Alice Carver and Dean was not happy.
“I’m the freaking babysitter, asshat,” Dean growled.
“I beg your pardon!” Said asshat burst out.
“You heard me,” Dean shot back. “Now, no one is punishing anyone until we get the full story from the boys themselves.”
“This is ridiculous! Dudley is the gentlest boy ever. He would never hit another student. It’s obvious that other boy is the one who started it.”
Dean glared at Mrs. Cartwright. “First: don’t talk about my kid like that, lady, and second: I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Now, Mr. Campbell,” Principal Spaulding started hesitantly, “I’m sure if we all just calm down-”
“Nut-up, dude,” Dean snapped at him. “You’re the freaking principal. Do your job.”
Spaulding gaped at him. “Really, Mr. Campbell, there’s no need for-”
“Yeah, there is. You’re going to let these entitled dicks steamroll you. Follow your own damn rules and get the whole story outta these boys before you start handing out punishments.”
Mr. and Mrs. Dick Parents were shouting and threatening and generally being annoying as hell. Dean completely ignored them as he stared the beaten down, bullied principal straight in the eyes daring him to find what was left of his backbone and take control.
Spaulding’s mouth thinned and his brow furrowed. He straightened in his chair and slammed his hand down on his desk.
“Quiet!”
Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright cut off their shouting in surprise their eyes wide. They looked indignant, but they kept quiet. Amazingly enough. Dean had the good grace not to smirk.
Spaulding adjusted his tie and cleared his throat. “Now, despite Mr. Campbell’s -ah- less than appropriate language, he is right. We should hear the story from the boys first.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Rachel land in the corner of the room behind the principal’s desk. He glared at her and made a sharp gesture by his hip trying to tell her she should flitter-fuck off back to where she came from and leave him be while he was in the middle of a group of civilians.
The moment Dean had spoken up Jeremy had turned in his seat to stare up at him in awe. He hadn’t had anyone stick up for him like that since his dad died. His mom was usually coming home late from her jobs, so she rarely made it to meetings with his teachers and he hadn’t told her about being picked on in school. She always looked so tired now and he didn’t want to burden her with his problems at school.
Dean, though, Dean was awesome. All the other kids thought so too and even though Jeremy was older than the rest, he never felt out of place or left out of the group. There was just something about Dean that made everyone feel good being around him, made them feel included despite any difference between them.
Jeremy was still looking at Dean in awe so he noticed when the man turned his gaze on the completely empty corner of the room. He watched Dean’s scowl deepen and he caught the sharp gesture the man made out of sight of the other parents.
Curiously, Jeremy looked over to the corner too, but didn’t see anything. He squinted, but still it was empty and suddenly he knew what Dean was looking at. It must be one of the angels. No one could ever see them until Dean sighed in fond exasperation or called out a greeting then the angel would appear out of thin air. It hadn’t taken the other kids long to figure out that Dean always knew when they were there and could see them even when no one else could.
Still the angels usually didn’t appear when Dean or the kids were interacting with people that didn’t know about the supernatural stuff. He wondered why one would show up now when they were so close to adults that didn’t believe.
Principal Spaulding cleared his throat again and turned his attention to Dudley. “Dudley, why don’t you tell us your side of the story.”
Dean looked at the porky little boy and barely suppressed a scoff. Just by the look of the kid’s still dripping nose stuck up in the air and his haughty little scowl, he could tell this was going to be about ninety percent bullshit and ten percent stretching the truth.
Sure enough over the next few minutes the -supposedly- mature adults in the room were treated to ninety percent bullshit and ten percent maybe possibly could have been maybe was the truth.
“Well, you see, Mr. Spaulding, Jeremy’s failing math so I went over and offered to help him out,” Dudley explained earnestly. “Then he just got mad and said I should mind my own business and he punched me.” He sniffled pitifully and blinked his watery eyes.
Dean felt a little sick for some reason. As he watched the boy, not even a teenager yet, pull out all the stops designed to manipulate the adults, it took Dean a moment to pinpoint what was turning his stomach. It was the miasma of lying and deceit starting to seep through the kid’s pores and trickle from his nose like his blood.
He blinked hard thinking maybe the image would disappear like so much of the other freaky shit he’d been seeing. It didn’t. It was still there when he opened his eyes again.
Looking around the room, he saw Principal Spaulding was free of lying ooze on his face, but Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright had it practically soaking their skin. Mrs. Cartwright’s ears were leaking so much it was dripping off her tacky designer earrings and Mr. Cartwright looked like he should be projectile vomiting Exorcist style so much of it was bubbling up from between his lips.
The sight almost made him gag and Dean quickly looked away. His eyes automatically landed on Jeremy sitting in front of him still peeking up at him with a mixture of nervousness and awe on his face. A knot balled up in his chest he didn’t even know he had disappeared in an instant when he saw that Jeremy was squeaky clean of ooze and practically glowing from under his skin.
“Um, well, thank you, Dudley for telling us that. Now, Jeremy, in your own words, can you tell us what happened?”
Dean met Jeremy’s gaze still looking up at him. The kid’s bottom lip was clenched between his teeth anxiously. Smiling reassuringly, he laid a heavy comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Go on, kid.”
Jeremy took a deep breath, borrowing strength from Dean’s unwavering support his nervousness was swept away by a resurgence of his righteous anger.
“I was working on my math homework in homeroom when Dudley came over and started making fun of me for failing.” Jeremy scowled darkly flicking his sharp gaze at Dudley then back to the Principal. “He said I was too stupid for regular classes and they should have just put me in special-ed. ‘with the rest of the retards’.”
There was an uncomfortable shifting among the adults in the room. Dudley’s innocent façade cracked for a moment, a hint of shame leaking through before he covered it up again.
Dean squeezed Jeremy’s shoulder silently urging him on, to not sugar coat anything.
Mrs. Cartwright tried to defend her son, “I’m sure my Dudley would never-,” but Jeremy just steamrolled over her.
“Then he said the only reason I wasn’t in special-ed. was ‘c-cause,” his words were strained, a shine of tears mixed with the rage in his eyes, “was ‘cause my mom was a s-slut and was probably fucking the principal to keep me in school.” Jeremy raised his chin and was utterly unrepentant when he finished with, “Then I punched him in his fat, lying face.”
A surge of sputters went up around the room. Between Spaulding’s scandalized, “Well, I never!”, Mrs. Cartwright’s frantic, “Not my Dudders!”, and Mr. Cartwright’s panicked, “I’m sure that’s not what happened,” no one heard Dean’s rumbling growl.
Gritting his teeth, Dean had to remind himself that he couldn’t actually kick a twelve year old’s ass no matter how much of a little bag of dicks he was.
Since the other adults weren’t doing anything, but squawking like a bunch of idiot chickens, Dean took it upon himself to restore some semblance of order.
“Everyone shut up!”
There was dead silence and everyone gathered their thoughts and arguments and embarrassment. Spaulding straightened in his chair, fiddled with his tie, and tried to get his blush under control.
“Spaulding,” Dean prompted pointedly and the principal cleared his throat.
“Yes, well, that is a very serious accusation, Dudley. Not to mention a very inappropriate remark.”
That’s putting it ridiculously mildly. Dean scoffed loudly.
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
Dudley had slumped down in his seat and dipped his face toward the floor after Jeremy had finished his explanation, but now that the attention was back on him his shame was gone and he was the picture of hurt, confused innocence. The miasma was starting to bead and roll down his skin and Dean couldn’t take it anymore.
Without hesitation, he reached out with a part of himself from deep inside and let it wash over Dudley like an ocean wave. It swept over the kid in a cool rush and took with it the stain of lying and deceit leaving the kid almost as squeaky clean as Jeremy. The kid opened his mouth and Dean let the stuff from inside him pool around the kid and lap at his throat like a gentle surf in the sea.
Then Dudley started to speak and for the first time he told the truth.
“Mr. Sampson, Mr. Jones, and my dad were talking at the bake sale last week about how Mrs. Carver and Jeremy were so poor that they should be at South Middle School ‘cause that was where all the poor people lived, but with an ass like hers he wouldn’t be surprised if she was boffing the principal to keep Jeremy in school here.” Dudley looked almost afraid of the words coming out of his mouth, but at the same time, Dean could see that finally telling the truth loosened something inside him. Like it was a relief.
What Dudley had just said was bad enough, but of course, Dean growled, of course that couldn’t be the end of it.
“Then dad said if Mrs. Carver didn’t mind spreading it around he wouldn’t mind paying for it too.”
The silence in the room was so profound you could have literally heard a pin drop.
Dean hadn’t felt this much honest to God rage toward a normal human being since he’d stopped that pervert in the park from running off with Sydney. Alice Carver was one of his kids’ moms. She was one of his people. And nobody said shit about his people. No body said that shit about one of his people. No body.
He wanted to haul back and punch Mr. Cartwright in the face so hard his teeth caved in. Then punch him a couple more times just to get the point across.
Alice Carver was good woman, a good mother, and she didn’t deserve anyone talking bad about her. And no body, especially not this asshole, got to call any of Dean’s moms a slut.
Dean was about to march over there and make good on his need to rearrange Cartwright’s face, but Principal Spaulding broke the silence before he could.
“Unfortunately, I have no authority over the parents of my students, but I have to say those are some of the most disgusting, inappropriate things I’ve ever heard. Had you been one of my students, Mr. Cartwright, I would give you two weeks of detention and mandatory sessions with our school counselor.” Spaulding had a downright displeased scowl on his face and if Dean hadn’t still been seething he would have been impressed with the transformation.
“As it is, you are not my student so all I can do is ask that you censor yourself in front of your child and seriously think of the consequences of your words.”
Cartwright’s face had paled during Dudley’s recitation, but was slowly reddening in a mixture of humiliation and indignation. However, one look at the angry expression on his wife’s face and the abyss of violent rage in Dean’s eyes kept him from opening his mouth.
“Now,” Spaulding opened a desk drawer, pulled out two pink sheets of paper, and picked up his chewed on pen. “Since we do have a zero-tolerance policy and both boys engaged in the fight, I’m assigning three days suspension and a week of after school detention.”
He scribbled the boys’ names on a sheet apiece, jotted down their punishments, and a few other random administrative things then held them out for the boys to take.
“I expect you both back to school on Friday, your detentions will start Monday.”
It seemed the Cartwrights, in light of certain truths from the mouths of babes, decided not to fight it and just quietly accepted Spaulding’s judgment.
The boys took the detention slips and hurried back to their parents’/guardian’s sides.
Principal Spaulding stood, straightening his suit jacket and conspicuously didn’t offer his hand to Mr. Cartwright. “If that is all, have a good day. If there are any further questions our secretary can answer them on your way out.”
“Come along, Dudley. We’ll discuss your behavior when we get home.” Mrs. Cartwright stood from her chair and marched past her husband without a look and he followed meekly behind her.
Dudley got up to follow without protest, but hesitantly paused next to Jeremy. “I’m sorry I said those things about you and your mom. I didn’t really mean them.”
Jeremy bit his lip and Dean gave him an encouraging nod. “Thanks.” He paused, a little reluctantly he added, “I’m sorry I gave you a bloody nose.”
Poking lightly at said nose, Dudley winced then shrugged. “It’s okay. I kinda deserved it anyway. See you Friday.”
The kid turned and disappeared after his parents leaving Jeremy and Dean alone with Spaulding.
The principal sighed tiredly and rubbed at his eyes. “Jeremy, I cannot tell you how sorry I am that you had to hear that.”
Jeremy scuffed his shoe on the carpet and shrugged. “It’s okay, Principal Spaulding. It’s not your fault.”
“Just the same.” Spaulding gave the boy a kind smile. “If you ever need to talk my door is always open.”
Jeremy gave him a small smile back. “Thanks, sir. I’ll remember that.”
Spaulding reached across the desk and Dean shook his hand, but Spaulding held on when he made to pull back.
“I would like to thank you, Mr. Campbell,” Spaulding said, “for what you did before; for demanding that I do my job.”
Surprised, Dean cleared his throat and dropped his hand when the other man finally released it. “I was just looking after my kid.”
Spaulding’s mouth quirked up wryly and he nodded. “As you should and as I should have. A lot of my parents are pushy and demanding, they like to throw their weight around and I’ve just been so tired. I’d forgotten that this is my school and my first priority is caring for the students not placating their parents.”
The look he gave Dean then was almost uncomfortably sincere. “So thank you, for reminding me of that.”
He’d never been able to take gratitude gracefully so Dean just darted his eyes around the room and coughed awkwardly. “Yeah, well, you know. You’re welcome, I guess.”
Letting him off the hook, Spaulding smiled again at Jeremy. “See you Friday.”
Jeremy waved and darted out of the room, but before Dean could follow, Spaulding spoke again and his words sent a shiver up Dean’s spine.
“You know, it was almost like my older brother was bossing me around again, demanding I stand up to the neighborhood bullies.”
Dean slowly turned and looked at Spaulding again. The man’s eyes refocused on the present and he give dismissive shake of his head.
“Well, anyway. Thank you for coming.”
In a daze, Dean replied something vague and polite, but his mind was suddenly spinning and that heavy feeling he got when he discovered a new level of weird about himself sank in his gut.
Stepping out into the reception area, he spotted Jeremy waiting patiently at the doors and he ruthlessly shoved his spinning thoughts and that gut feeling to the back of his mind.
“Come on, kid.” Dean grasped Jeremy on the shoulder and steered him out the door. “Let’s head back to Lisa’s and wait for your mom to get off work.”
The walk down to the parking lot was quiet and quick. It was only when Dean was turning the key in Baby’s ignition that the fleeting realization that Rachel had been there the entire time passed through his head.
*
When they got back to Lisa’s Dean unloaded his purchases from his earlier errands and followed a suddenly sullen Jeremy into the house.
Out of the corner of his eye Dean caught the flash of Rachel’s gale force wings and her blank mask and eagle faces before she was a librarian again. He ignored her and turned his attention to Jeremy’s unhappy face.
“What’s up, kid?”
Jeremy sighed more heavily than any kid had a right to sigh and dropped down onto the living room couch like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
“What are you gonna tell my mom about why I got into a fight?”
Dean watched the kid bite his lip for a long moment, thinking about his answer. Rounding the couch he took the seat next to Jeremy and looked the boy in the eyes.
“You don’t want her to know what they said about her.”
A pinched look came over the boy’s face and he bit his lip so hard Dean was afraid that he’d start bleeding.
“She doesn’t deserve people saying those things about her. I don’t want her to get hurt,” Jeremy murmured wiping at his eyes roughly.
Dean didn’t mention his tears, just wrapped his arm around the kid’s shoulders and pulled him into his side. “How about we just say Dudley insulted your obviously superior intelligence and leave the other stuff out of it? That sound good?”
Jeremy gave a loud sniffle, swiped the back of his hand over his face again and nodded against Dean’s chest. “Thanks, Dean.”
Dean squeezed the boy tight for a long moment and murmured, “No problem,” into his ruffled shaggy hair.
They unfolded themselves. Dean took his arm back and reached down to grab Jeremy’s backpack off the floor giving the kid a second to scrub away all traces of tears.
“Now, I hear you’re failing math.” Dumping the backpack in the kid’s lap, Dean was deaf to the boy’s groans. “I know you’re smart enough to ace this stuff. You wanna tell me what the problem is?”
He looked expectantly at Jeremy’s reluctant expression. He wasn’t going to let the kid avoid the subject.
Jeremy fiddled with the zipper on his backpack and avoided Dean’s eyes while he spoke. “My dad used to be the one to help me with my math. I haven’t really- I haven’t really wanted to ask anyone else to help me.”
Dean blew out a heavy breath and swallowed down the tightening in his throat. It’d only been about a year and a half since Jeremy’s dad was killed in a hit and run. It wasn’t a surprise that the kid was still holding onto that tradition. Dean had long since surpassed his own father in knowledge of hunting and lore yet he still looked through the man’s journal almost every hunt. He knew exactly how Jeremy felt.
Jeremy started to unzip and zip a couple of inches of his backpack nervously, his eyes darted to Dean and down again. “Do- do you maybe wanna help me?”
His chest tightened painfully and it was a moment before Dean could answer. “Sure, kid,” he rasped. His heart was beating with a near painful mix of pride and love for this kid who trusted him so much. “Of course.”
The soft small smile on Jeremy’s face was bright and Dean had to avert his eyes from the way the light inside the kid’s chest turned almost blinding.
“Alright.” He clapped his hands together moving past the moment, not abruptly, but smoothly; a natural transition. “Come on, kid. I think I remember my sixth grade math so let’s crack your books open and see what we got.”
Jeremy hurriedly pulled his books out and they spent two hours working through the last couple of days of worksheets. Alice finally got off work and came to pick Jeremy up at six-thirty. Dean pulled her aside and made sure she understood that though she didn’t know the details, Jeremy was justified in trying to beat down the other kid and she shouldn’t be too hard on him. Alice, still worried, but trusting Dean’s judgment, thanked him for being there for her son with exhausted tears in her eyes. Then the two Carvers were out the door on their way home.
The house was quiet. Ben was up in his room finishing his own homework, Lisa was still with her late evening yoga class at her studio, and Dean was bone deep tried.
He collapsed on the couch, dropped his head back against the cushions and sighed to the ceiling.
“That boy,” Rachel’s voice broke the silence, her tone curious, almost wondering. “You helped him.”
Sighing again, Dean lifted his head and looked at the angel standing to the side of the coffee table. She was studying him like she couldn’t quite figure him out. Like she just couldn’t remember the words to describe him.
“Of course I helped him,” Dean frowned. “He’s one of my kids.”
“No,” she shook her head, “Dudley Cartwright, you helped him. He abused a child under your protection, lied unrepentantly. Jeremy Carver would have taken his punishment and you still helped him. Why?”
Dean really looked at the angel for the first time since they’d yelled at each other in the street earlier. Her rage and disdain had disappeared. Instead she looked thoughtful, like he had surprised her and she was trying to decide what kind of a surprise it was, good or bad.
He thought about his answer. At the time he hadn’t really felt anything for kid. Dudley had just been a little asshole trying to get his kid in trouble, but then Dean really thought about it. He remembered the truly awfully way he felt seeing that black lying ooze on the kid. He remembered the urge to do something, the warm soothing relief he felt doing whatever the heck he did to wash all that crap off of him. He remembered observing the relief the boy had felt inside when he was able to tell the truth, to do the right thing.
“I helped him,” Dean answered slowly, “because lying and hurting people was hurting him and I couldn’t let the kid suffer. I couldn’t let any kid suffer if I could do anything about it.”
Rachel just watched him in silence thinking over his answer. For a second Dean wished he could hear what she was thinking because she seemed to come to a conclusion of some sort and he had no idea what that could be.
The angel before him straightened to attention and bowed. “Forgive me, Dean Winchester,” she intoned like her words were a ceremony. “I have judged you unfairly and with bias. Now I realize my error and I pray that I may be able to one day earn your respect as you have earned mine.”
Dean was trying to work through the unintelligible sputtering in his head when Rachel spread her wings and shot back up to Heaven.
He knew he was gaping like a fish, but all he could say to the empty room around him was, “What the hell just happened?”
Cas, man, he thought to his friend, still trying to understand the last few minutes. I am never going to understand your angels.
*
End.
Author: alexjanna91
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean, Jeremy (OC), Rachel
Series: Apple Pie Life
Rating: PG
Genre: AU-Canon Divergence post-Season 5
Word Count: 6,570
Warning: BAMF Dean, Parental Dean, Powers Dean, Kids, Asshole Parents
Summary: Dean was already having a shitty day. A bitchy angel and bitchy parents were just the icing on the cake.
A/N: Part of the Parton Saint arc of the Apple Pie Life verse.
*
She’d been following him off and on for two weeks. Dean could feel her disapproving stare practically burning a hole in the back of his head. At least she didn’t feel homicidal like Jogger Assassin had. That was something.
She may not have been homicidal exactly, but Dean was pretty sure Rachel would have been happier watching him dramatically bleeding out and flailing like an extra in a black and white western than she was watching him go about his daily activities.
It was an unsettling mystery as to why she’d been conspicuously stalking him. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of any of his usual stalkers since he’d nearly been made mincemeat by an angel assassin. So it was a surprise that when his finally started being shadowed again it was Rachel. Rachel who would have been perfectly happy letting him die a slow and painful death by angel poison.
Rachel’s attitude while observing him was borderline hostile and Dean was sure he’d have been a smoking smear on the pavement if Cas hadn’t given him special do not touch status. The only thing keeping him from shouting for Alfie, Inias, or Hester to come and glare her back to Heaven was the fact that she never once looked at one of his kids the way she looked at him.
She would send fleeting glances at his kids whenever he interacted with them, but it was like they were irrelevant. She didn’t care about them past the fact that they were tangentially related to Dean. Still unsettling, but not harmful so he let her stare daggers of disapproval at him all she wanted.
Or, he would have let her stare all she wanted, but he’d been having a really bad day; weird sounds coming from the Impala, a devastating nightmare, slicing his hand open making breakfast kind of bad. On top of that he’d been having flashes of splitting headaches complete with auditory and visual hallucinations for the last couple of days.
A headache would hit him and his ears would ring with high pitched electrical static, spikes of pain would stab his eyes when he tried to focus on the people around him. It was like he was staring at the sun every time a person passed by.
So, yeah, he was in a bad mood when Rachel suddenly popped up out of the corner of his eye and a massive blast of blinding light made his eyeballs feel like they were going to burst into flame.
“Motherfucker!” Dean slammed his hands over his eyes and doubled over trying to breathe through the pain.
Now, that, was just the icing on the fucking cake of how goddamn crappy his day had been going so far.
Several long moments later Dean cautiously dropped his hands blinking rapidly. Despite the massive black splotches in his vision he had not, in fact, been rendered blind.
Since he wasn’t blind and the pain had receded as if it hadn’t ever been there, Dean straightened up and turned to see Rachel standing in her librarian suit watching him with a curious frown on her face. He stormed toward her and the sight of her expression morphing back into her perpetual sneer of condescension made the anger in his gut burn hotter.
When he finally got to her he didn’t even try to modulate the volume of his voice. “Alright, lady, I don’t care why you’re following me around, but I’m so fucking done with it.” He was yelling loud enough to draw the attention of the other passersby walking down the sidewalk.
He didn’t notice that they were looking at him like he was a crazy hobo having a conversation with thin air.
“You obviously think I’m the dog shit on your shoes so why don’t you just fuck off and leave me alone!”
If it was even possible Rachel’s sneer ratcheted up a notch. “You are an insolent, imbecilic human and you have no right to give me orders.”
“I think I just did and, hey, fuck you very much!” Dean shouted back still oblivious to the alarmed looks he was getting.
Rachel gave him a very unpleasant mocking smirk. “Oh, how surprising. A human simpleton using foul language when his feeble intellect fails him.”
Dean never thought sarcasm (who knew angels even knew what sarcasm was) would piss him off so freaking much.
He growled through gritted teeth. “I swear to god-”
“How dare you take my Father’s name in vain!”
“-I am this close to shankin’a bitch.”
“I should smite you right here, you primitive little-”
“Keep talking, lady. I fucking dare you!”
Fortunately, for the now terrified bystanders, Rachel and Dean’s increasingly heated argument was interrupted by a muffled blast of Led Zeppelin.
Cursing, Dean glared bloody murder at Rachel, the look was returned tenfold, as he wrestled his cell from his jean pocket.
Flipping it open hard enough to nearly break the thing in half, Dean snapped, “What!”
A cool unemotional voice came over the line. “Is this Mr. Dean Campbell?”
Dean focused all his attention from his enraged glaring match with Rachel to the phone call. No one should have this number except his kids, his kids’ parents, and Bobby.
“Yeah, who’s this?” He didn’t really mean to snap at the woman on the other end, but he was still riding a wave of residual anger at the angel bitch and he didn’t want to expend the energy to measure his tone.
“I’m the secretary at West Middle School. I’m calling in regards to Jeremy Carver.”
Dean’s heart skipped a beat.
His mind was racing through all the increasingly horrible reasons for Jeremy’s school to have called him. Jeremy had lost his dad, moved to a new city, and nearly been eaten by a rawhead all in a little over a year. The kid had enough bad luck as it was, Dean didn’t even want to think about why his school was calling.
“What’s wrong with Jeremy? Is he alright?” He demanded sharply. Dean was already jogging toward the parking lot, Baby’s keys looped around his finger jangling in the air. His mind was solely on Jeremy and he only distantly registered that Rachel had taken the opportunity to flitter-fuck off to somewhere else (fucking finally).
“Jeremy is unhurt. However, Principal Spaulding requests your presence to discuss a disciplinary issue,” the lady said with thinly veiled superiority in her voice.
Frowning, Dean paused in his rush to start the Impala. Jeremy was generally a quiet kid. He hadn’t yet bought into all that preteen arrogance and didn’t buck Dean’s authority like he imagined regular middle schoolers would. As far as he knew Jeremy had never had a problem with getting in trouble in school.
“What exactly does ‘disciplinary issue’ mean?” He asked, unable to imagine a likely scenario.
“Jeremy was involved in a physical altercation with another student,” the secretary answered, her voice dripping with haughty disapproval.
“You mean Jeremy was in a fight.” Dean wanted to be amused considering he was no stranger to schoolyard fights, but the image of Jeremy beating on another kid didn’t fit.
There was an audible sniff on the other end. “Precisely.”
Dean rolled his eyes and finally started the engine. He wasn’t a stranger to bitchy school secretaries either. “Alright then, I’ll be there in ten.”
“Principal Spaulding will be waiting for you.” The secretary hung up without a goodbye and Dean thought that even the dial tone sounded disapproving.
*
Dean had been to West Middle School a few times to pick up Jeremy when his mother, Alice, had to work a late shift. He knew his way around to the parking lot and was parked and heading inside in no time at all. Having never actually been inside though, it took him a few embarrassingly long minutes to figure out where the principal’s office was.
He swore it’s like a maze in there. Four different dead ends and two random courtyards, but finally he found the office.
Inside, across from the high desk of the scowling old secretary were two young boys sitting on opposite sides of a row of uncomfortable plastic chairs.
One of them was on the chubby side, over indulging chubby not hanging onto his baby fat chubby. He was nursing a bloody nose and developing an impressive shiner. His hair was frosted on the tips and spiked up with way too much gel. He was glaring around the office, outraged with his treatment and trying to look dignified even though his fashionably pink polo shirt was sprinkled with blood.
The other boy was sitting slouched in his seat with his arms sullenly crossed over his chest. His shaggy brown hair was falling in his face, his eyes were red around the edges, and his cheeks were flushed. The worst of his injuries were a minor split lip and reddened knuckles. He was glaring too, but it was all anger and righteousness.
Dean eyed the two boys and strode over dropping into the empty seat next to the angry one.
“Hey, kid.”
Jeremy flicked his eyes toward Dean. “Hey.”
“Want to tell me why I got a call from Ms. Disapproval over there?” He nodded toward the secretary glaring at him as well as the boys.
“No.” Jeremy lowered his head and sank further into his seat.
“Yeah, that’s not gonna fly, kid.”
The boy huffed. “It’s no big deal. You didn’t even have to come.”
Dean snorted. “Bullshit. Of course I had to come. Some old broad with a stick up her butt tells me you got in a fight at school. No way I’m not showing up for that.”
Jeremy didn’t say anything, but he was eyeing Dean with a tentative look.
Looking around the kid, Dean studied the other boy.
“Well, at least you learned something in those defense classes.”
A small smirk curled at Jeremy’s lips. “I didn’t know his nose would bleed that much.”
Dean nodded sagely. “Almost as bad as head wounds, kid.”
The office doors burst opened then and a couple rushed in dressed in designer clothes wearing overly dramatic expressions of worry.
“Oh, Dudley! What happened? Are you hurt? What did that boy do to you?” The kid’s mother fell on her son and started fawning and petting him like he was on his death bed.
Dean watched the entire spectacle with a raised eyebrow. The kid, Dudley apparently, soaked up the attention and milked it for all it was worth. He gave off little whimpers and kicked puppy looks and leaned into his mother like he couldn’t hold himself up.
“It’s alright, son. We’ll make sure nothing like this happens again.” Dudley’s father was scowling at Jeremy like the entire thing was his fault.
Jeremy shrank into Dean’s side dipping his head down so his hair hid more of his face.
Dean wrapped an arm around him and glared darkly at the other kid’s dad. Just watching the way these people were acting in the first two minutes, he knew he wasn’t going to like any of what happened next.
One of the inner office doors opened and a middle aged man with a receding hairline poked his head out. The moment he saw the spectacle in the front office his face fell. Apparently he was not happy to see Dudley’s parents. He put on an anemic smile and pushed his door open further in invitation.
“Ah, good. You’re all here. Please come into my office and we can discuss the situation.”
Principle Spaulding looked beyond reluctant to be having this meeting and Dean didn’t blame him. Already he could tell that Mr. and Mrs. Dudley’s Parents were going to be a pain in the ass.
The five of them, two bruised up boys, two scowling parents, and a semi-retired hunter-slash-nanny trudged into the principal’s office and took their seats. There were only three guest chairs so Mrs. Dramatic Mom and Dudley commandeered two while Mr. Scowly Dad stood behind them.
The air was tense and Dean’s hackles had been up since the other parents had walked in the door and his protective instincts had kicked in. He needed to be standing just in case. Logically he knew there wasn’t any reason to expect a fight, but being able to move around helped calm the hunter inside him. He guided Jeremy to the free chair and planted himself behind it like a sentinel.
Principal Spaulding sat in his battered leather chair behind his desk shifting uncomfortably as he looked at the unhappy group before him.
“Principal Spaulding, I demand to know what exactly happened to my son,” Dudley’s father, predictably, demanded.
“Ah -ahem- yes well, Mr. Cartwright. It appears that Jeremy and Dudley had some kind of a disagreement in homeroom that resulted in a physical altercation,” Spaulding explained.
Dean held back a snort. It was pretty freaking obvious the boys got into a “physical altercation”. Jeremy had a split lip and Dudley had a black eye and a bloody nose.
“And what are you going to do about it?” Mrs. Cartwright demanded glaring expectantly at the man.
Obviously the Cartwrights liked to demand things and from the entitled looks on their faces they were not used to being told no.
“I -uh- well, we have a zero tolerance policy regarding violence so the -uh- the boys will have to be punished.” Spaulding squirmed awkwardly in his seat avoiding eye contact and fiddling with the pen lying on his desk.
Dean raised an eyebrow. He’d never had a principal that was so hesitant. All of his principals had been more than ready to hand out detentions and suspensions and on one memorable occasion an expulsion. This guy seemed like a total pushover.
“Excuse me?” Mrs. Cartwright straightened in her seat her arm still wrapped around Dudley’s shoulders. “Our Dudley would never start a fight. He won’t be punished for defending himself!”
Dean was able to see exactly where this was going and he didn’t like it one bit.
Spaulding sputtered and shifted and grimaced. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cartwright, but it is school policy.”
“Nonsense!” Mr. Cartwright burst. “Obviously that other boy attacked my son. I’ll sue the school for not providing a safe learning environment if you don’t handle this the way it should be!”
Fuck, this asshole’s a lawyer. Dean sneered internally. Just freaking perfect. Hopefully Spaulding had more balls than he looked like.
“Right, yes. In that case,” nope, hoped too soon, “since it was self-defense, I suppose we can-”
“Hey! No.” All attention snapped to Dean and he took a step forward interrupting the principal totally crumbling under pressure. “We haven’t even heard the boys’ story. No way are you putting all this on Jeremy.”
Mr. Cartwright sneered and looked Dean up and down taking in his scuffed work boots, frayed jeans, and worn plaid shirt. “Who are you, exactly? It was my understanding that Ms. Carver didn’t have a husband.”
The way he said that implied all kinds of insulting things about Alice Carver and Dean was not happy.
“I’m the freaking babysitter, asshat,” Dean growled.
“I beg your pardon!” Said asshat burst out.
“You heard me,” Dean shot back. “Now, no one is punishing anyone until we get the full story from the boys themselves.”
“This is ridiculous! Dudley is the gentlest boy ever. He would never hit another student. It’s obvious that other boy is the one who started it.”
Dean glared at Mrs. Cartwright. “First: don’t talk about my kid like that, lady, and second: I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Now, Mr. Campbell,” Principal Spaulding started hesitantly, “I’m sure if we all just calm down-”
“Nut-up, dude,” Dean snapped at him. “You’re the freaking principal. Do your job.”
Spaulding gaped at him. “Really, Mr. Campbell, there’s no need for-”
“Yeah, there is. You’re going to let these entitled dicks steamroll you. Follow your own damn rules and get the whole story outta these boys before you start handing out punishments.”
Mr. and Mrs. Dick Parents were shouting and threatening and generally being annoying as hell. Dean completely ignored them as he stared the beaten down, bullied principal straight in the eyes daring him to find what was left of his backbone and take control.
Spaulding’s mouth thinned and his brow furrowed. He straightened in his chair and slammed his hand down on his desk.
“Quiet!”
Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright cut off their shouting in surprise their eyes wide. They looked indignant, but they kept quiet. Amazingly enough. Dean had the good grace not to smirk.
Spaulding adjusted his tie and cleared his throat. “Now, despite Mr. Campbell’s -ah- less than appropriate language, he is right. We should hear the story from the boys first.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Rachel land in the corner of the room behind the principal’s desk. He glared at her and made a sharp gesture by his hip trying to tell her she should flitter-fuck off back to where she came from and leave him be while he was in the middle of a group of civilians.
The moment Dean had spoken up Jeremy had turned in his seat to stare up at him in awe. He hadn’t had anyone stick up for him like that since his dad died. His mom was usually coming home late from her jobs, so she rarely made it to meetings with his teachers and he hadn’t told her about being picked on in school. She always looked so tired now and he didn’t want to burden her with his problems at school.
Dean, though, Dean was awesome. All the other kids thought so too and even though Jeremy was older than the rest, he never felt out of place or left out of the group. There was just something about Dean that made everyone feel good being around him, made them feel included despite any difference between them.
Jeremy was still looking at Dean in awe so he noticed when the man turned his gaze on the completely empty corner of the room. He watched Dean’s scowl deepen and he caught the sharp gesture the man made out of sight of the other parents.
Curiously, Jeremy looked over to the corner too, but didn’t see anything. He squinted, but still it was empty and suddenly he knew what Dean was looking at. It must be one of the angels. No one could ever see them until Dean sighed in fond exasperation or called out a greeting then the angel would appear out of thin air. It hadn’t taken the other kids long to figure out that Dean always knew when they were there and could see them even when no one else could.
Still the angels usually didn’t appear when Dean or the kids were interacting with people that didn’t know about the supernatural stuff. He wondered why one would show up now when they were so close to adults that didn’t believe.
Principal Spaulding cleared his throat again and turned his attention to Dudley. “Dudley, why don’t you tell us your side of the story.”
Dean looked at the porky little boy and barely suppressed a scoff. Just by the look of the kid’s still dripping nose stuck up in the air and his haughty little scowl, he could tell this was going to be about ninety percent bullshit and ten percent stretching the truth.
Sure enough over the next few minutes the -supposedly- mature adults in the room were treated to ninety percent bullshit and ten percent maybe possibly could have been maybe was the truth.
“Well, you see, Mr. Spaulding, Jeremy’s failing math so I went over and offered to help him out,” Dudley explained earnestly. “Then he just got mad and said I should mind my own business and he punched me.” He sniffled pitifully and blinked his watery eyes.
Dean felt a little sick for some reason. As he watched the boy, not even a teenager yet, pull out all the stops designed to manipulate the adults, it took Dean a moment to pinpoint what was turning his stomach. It was the miasma of lying and deceit starting to seep through the kid’s pores and trickle from his nose like his blood.
He blinked hard thinking maybe the image would disappear like so much of the other freaky shit he’d been seeing. It didn’t. It was still there when he opened his eyes again.
Looking around the room, he saw Principal Spaulding was free of lying ooze on his face, but Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright had it practically soaking their skin. Mrs. Cartwright’s ears were leaking so much it was dripping off her tacky designer earrings and Mr. Cartwright looked like he should be projectile vomiting Exorcist style so much of it was bubbling up from between his lips.
The sight almost made him gag and Dean quickly looked away. His eyes automatically landed on Jeremy sitting in front of him still peeking up at him with a mixture of nervousness and awe on his face. A knot balled up in his chest he didn’t even know he had disappeared in an instant when he saw that Jeremy was squeaky clean of ooze and practically glowing from under his skin.
“Um, well, thank you, Dudley for telling us that. Now, Jeremy, in your own words, can you tell us what happened?”
Dean met Jeremy’s gaze still looking up at him. The kid’s bottom lip was clenched between his teeth anxiously. Smiling reassuringly, he laid a heavy comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Go on, kid.”
Jeremy took a deep breath, borrowing strength from Dean’s unwavering support his nervousness was swept away by a resurgence of his righteous anger.
“I was working on my math homework in homeroom when Dudley came over and started making fun of me for failing.” Jeremy scowled darkly flicking his sharp gaze at Dudley then back to the Principal. “He said I was too stupid for regular classes and they should have just put me in special-ed. ‘with the rest of the retards’.”
There was an uncomfortable shifting among the adults in the room. Dudley’s innocent façade cracked for a moment, a hint of shame leaking through before he covered it up again.
Dean squeezed Jeremy’s shoulder silently urging him on, to not sugar coat anything.
Mrs. Cartwright tried to defend her son, “I’m sure my Dudley would never-,” but Jeremy just steamrolled over her.
“Then he said the only reason I wasn’t in special-ed. was ‘c-cause,” his words were strained, a shine of tears mixed with the rage in his eyes, “was ‘cause my mom was a s-slut and was probably fucking the principal to keep me in school.” Jeremy raised his chin and was utterly unrepentant when he finished with, “Then I punched him in his fat, lying face.”
A surge of sputters went up around the room. Between Spaulding’s scandalized, “Well, I never!”, Mrs. Cartwright’s frantic, “Not my Dudders!”, and Mr. Cartwright’s panicked, “I’m sure that’s not what happened,” no one heard Dean’s rumbling growl.
Gritting his teeth, Dean had to remind himself that he couldn’t actually kick a twelve year old’s ass no matter how much of a little bag of dicks he was.
Since the other adults weren’t doing anything, but squawking like a bunch of idiot chickens, Dean took it upon himself to restore some semblance of order.
“Everyone shut up!”
There was dead silence and everyone gathered their thoughts and arguments and embarrassment. Spaulding straightened in his chair, fiddled with his tie, and tried to get his blush under control.
“Spaulding,” Dean prompted pointedly and the principal cleared his throat.
“Yes, well, that is a very serious accusation, Dudley. Not to mention a very inappropriate remark.”
That’s putting it ridiculously mildly. Dean scoffed loudly.
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
Dudley had slumped down in his seat and dipped his face toward the floor after Jeremy had finished his explanation, but now that the attention was back on him his shame was gone and he was the picture of hurt, confused innocence. The miasma was starting to bead and roll down his skin and Dean couldn’t take it anymore.
Without hesitation, he reached out with a part of himself from deep inside and let it wash over Dudley like an ocean wave. It swept over the kid in a cool rush and took with it the stain of lying and deceit leaving the kid almost as squeaky clean as Jeremy. The kid opened his mouth and Dean let the stuff from inside him pool around the kid and lap at his throat like a gentle surf in the sea.
Then Dudley started to speak and for the first time he told the truth.
“Mr. Sampson, Mr. Jones, and my dad were talking at the bake sale last week about how Mrs. Carver and Jeremy were so poor that they should be at South Middle School ‘cause that was where all the poor people lived, but with an ass like hers he wouldn’t be surprised if she was boffing the principal to keep Jeremy in school here.” Dudley looked almost afraid of the words coming out of his mouth, but at the same time, Dean could see that finally telling the truth loosened something inside him. Like it was a relief.
What Dudley had just said was bad enough, but of course, Dean growled, of course that couldn’t be the end of it.
“Then dad said if Mrs. Carver didn’t mind spreading it around he wouldn’t mind paying for it too.”
The silence in the room was so profound you could have literally heard a pin drop.
Dean hadn’t felt this much honest to God rage toward a normal human being since he’d stopped that pervert in the park from running off with Sydney. Alice Carver was one of his kids’ moms. She was one of his people. And nobody said shit about his people. No body said that shit about one of his people. No body.
He wanted to haul back and punch Mr. Cartwright in the face so hard his teeth caved in. Then punch him a couple more times just to get the point across.
Alice Carver was good woman, a good mother, and she didn’t deserve anyone talking bad about her. And no body, especially not this asshole, got to call any of Dean’s moms a slut.
Dean was about to march over there and make good on his need to rearrange Cartwright’s face, but Principal Spaulding broke the silence before he could.
“Unfortunately, I have no authority over the parents of my students, but I have to say those are some of the most disgusting, inappropriate things I’ve ever heard. Had you been one of my students, Mr. Cartwright, I would give you two weeks of detention and mandatory sessions with our school counselor.” Spaulding had a downright displeased scowl on his face and if Dean hadn’t still been seething he would have been impressed with the transformation.
“As it is, you are not my student so all I can do is ask that you censor yourself in front of your child and seriously think of the consequences of your words.”
Cartwright’s face had paled during Dudley’s recitation, but was slowly reddening in a mixture of humiliation and indignation. However, one look at the angry expression on his wife’s face and the abyss of violent rage in Dean’s eyes kept him from opening his mouth.
“Now,” Spaulding opened a desk drawer, pulled out two pink sheets of paper, and picked up his chewed on pen. “Since we do have a zero-tolerance policy and both boys engaged in the fight, I’m assigning three days suspension and a week of after school detention.”
He scribbled the boys’ names on a sheet apiece, jotted down their punishments, and a few other random administrative things then held them out for the boys to take.
“I expect you both back to school on Friday, your detentions will start Monday.”
It seemed the Cartwrights, in light of certain truths from the mouths of babes, decided not to fight it and just quietly accepted Spaulding’s judgment.
The boys took the detention slips and hurried back to their parents’/guardian’s sides.
Principal Spaulding stood, straightening his suit jacket and conspicuously didn’t offer his hand to Mr. Cartwright. “If that is all, have a good day. If there are any further questions our secretary can answer them on your way out.”
“Come along, Dudley. We’ll discuss your behavior when we get home.” Mrs. Cartwright stood from her chair and marched past her husband without a look and he followed meekly behind her.
Dudley got up to follow without protest, but hesitantly paused next to Jeremy. “I’m sorry I said those things about you and your mom. I didn’t really mean them.”
Jeremy bit his lip and Dean gave him an encouraging nod. “Thanks.” He paused, a little reluctantly he added, “I’m sorry I gave you a bloody nose.”
Poking lightly at said nose, Dudley winced then shrugged. “It’s okay. I kinda deserved it anyway. See you Friday.”
The kid turned and disappeared after his parents leaving Jeremy and Dean alone with Spaulding.
The principal sighed tiredly and rubbed at his eyes. “Jeremy, I cannot tell you how sorry I am that you had to hear that.”
Jeremy scuffed his shoe on the carpet and shrugged. “It’s okay, Principal Spaulding. It’s not your fault.”
“Just the same.” Spaulding gave the boy a kind smile. “If you ever need to talk my door is always open.”
Jeremy gave him a small smile back. “Thanks, sir. I’ll remember that.”
Spaulding reached across the desk and Dean shook his hand, but Spaulding held on when he made to pull back.
“I would like to thank you, Mr. Campbell,” Spaulding said, “for what you did before; for demanding that I do my job.”
Surprised, Dean cleared his throat and dropped his hand when the other man finally released it. “I was just looking after my kid.”
Spaulding’s mouth quirked up wryly and he nodded. “As you should and as I should have. A lot of my parents are pushy and demanding, they like to throw their weight around and I’ve just been so tired. I’d forgotten that this is my school and my first priority is caring for the students not placating their parents.”
The look he gave Dean then was almost uncomfortably sincere. “So thank you, for reminding me of that.”
He’d never been able to take gratitude gracefully so Dean just darted his eyes around the room and coughed awkwardly. “Yeah, well, you know. You’re welcome, I guess.”
Letting him off the hook, Spaulding smiled again at Jeremy. “See you Friday.”
Jeremy waved and darted out of the room, but before Dean could follow, Spaulding spoke again and his words sent a shiver up Dean’s spine.
“You know, it was almost like my older brother was bossing me around again, demanding I stand up to the neighborhood bullies.”
Dean slowly turned and looked at Spaulding again. The man’s eyes refocused on the present and he give dismissive shake of his head.
“Well, anyway. Thank you for coming.”
In a daze, Dean replied something vague and polite, but his mind was suddenly spinning and that heavy feeling he got when he discovered a new level of weird about himself sank in his gut.
Stepping out into the reception area, he spotted Jeremy waiting patiently at the doors and he ruthlessly shoved his spinning thoughts and that gut feeling to the back of his mind.
“Come on, kid.” Dean grasped Jeremy on the shoulder and steered him out the door. “Let’s head back to Lisa’s and wait for your mom to get off work.”
The walk down to the parking lot was quiet and quick. It was only when Dean was turning the key in Baby’s ignition that the fleeting realization that Rachel had been there the entire time passed through his head.
*
When they got back to Lisa’s Dean unloaded his purchases from his earlier errands and followed a suddenly sullen Jeremy into the house.
Out of the corner of his eye Dean caught the flash of Rachel’s gale force wings and her blank mask and eagle faces before she was a librarian again. He ignored her and turned his attention to Jeremy’s unhappy face.
“What’s up, kid?”
Jeremy sighed more heavily than any kid had a right to sigh and dropped down onto the living room couch like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
“What are you gonna tell my mom about why I got into a fight?”
Dean watched the kid bite his lip for a long moment, thinking about his answer. Rounding the couch he took the seat next to Jeremy and looked the boy in the eyes.
“You don’t want her to know what they said about her.”
A pinched look came over the boy’s face and he bit his lip so hard Dean was afraid that he’d start bleeding.
“She doesn’t deserve people saying those things about her. I don’t want her to get hurt,” Jeremy murmured wiping at his eyes roughly.
Dean didn’t mention his tears, just wrapped his arm around the kid’s shoulders and pulled him into his side. “How about we just say Dudley insulted your obviously superior intelligence and leave the other stuff out of it? That sound good?”
Jeremy gave a loud sniffle, swiped the back of his hand over his face again and nodded against Dean’s chest. “Thanks, Dean.”
Dean squeezed the boy tight for a long moment and murmured, “No problem,” into his ruffled shaggy hair.
They unfolded themselves. Dean took his arm back and reached down to grab Jeremy’s backpack off the floor giving the kid a second to scrub away all traces of tears.
“Now, I hear you’re failing math.” Dumping the backpack in the kid’s lap, Dean was deaf to the boy’s groans. “I know you’re smart enough to ace this stuff. You wanna tell me what the problem is?”
He looked expectantly at Jeremy’s reluctant expression. He wasn’t going to let the kid avoid the subject.
Jeremy fiddled with the zipper on his backpack and avoided Dean’s eyes while he spoke. “My dad used to be the one to help me with my math. I haven’t really- I haven’t really wanted to ask anyone else to help me.”
Dean blew out a heavy breath and swallowed down the tightening in his throat. It’d only been about a year and a half since Jeremy’s dad was killed in a hit and run. It wasn’t a surprise that the kid was still holding onto that tradition. Dean had long since surpassed his own father in knowledge of hunting and lore yet he still looked through the man’s journal almost every hunt. He knew exactly how Jeremy felt.
Jeremy started to unzip and zip a couple of inches of his backpack nervously, his eyes darted to Dean and down again. “Do- do you maybe wanna help me?”
His chest tightened painfully and it was a moment before Dean could answer. “Sure, kid,” he rasped. His heart was beating with a near painful mix of pride and love for this kid who trusted him so much. “Of course.”
The soft small smile on Jeremy’s face was bright and Dean had to avert his eyes from the way the light inside the kid’s chest turned almost blinding.
“Alright.” He clapped his hands together moving past the moment, not abruptly, but smoothly; a natural transition. “Come on, kid. I think I remember my sixth grade math so let’s crack your books open and see what we got.”
Jeremy hurriedly pulled his books out and they spent two hours working through the last couple of days of worksheets. Alice finally got off work and came to pick Jeremy up at six-thirty. Dean pulled her aside and made sure she understood that though she didn’t know the details, Jeremy was justified in trying to beat down the other kid and she shouldn’t be too hard on him. Alice, still worried, but trusting Dean’s judgment, thanked him for being there for her son with exhausted tears in her eyes. Then the two Carvers were out the door on their way home.
The house was quiet. Ben was up in his room finishing his own homework, Lisa was still with her late evening yoga class at her studio, and Dean was bone deep tried.
He collapsed on the couch, dropped his head back against the cushions and sighed to the ceiling.
“That boy,” Rachel’s voice broke the silence, her tone curious, almost wondering. “You helped him.”
Sighing again, Dean lifted his head and looked at the angel standing to the side of the coffee table. She was studying him like she couldn’t quite figure him out. Like she just couldn’t remember the words to describe him.
“Of course I helped him,” Dean frowned. “He’s one of my kids.”
“No,” she shook her head, “Dudley Cartwright, you helped him. He abused a child under your protection, lied unrepentantly. Jeremy Carver would have taken his punishment and you still helped him. Why?”
Dean really looked at the angel for the first time since they’d yelled at each other in the street earlier. Her rage and disdain had disappeared. Instead she looked thoughtful, like he had surprised her and she was trying to decide what kind of a surprise it was, good or bad.
He thought about his answer. At the time he hadn’t really felt anything for kid. Dudley had just been a little asshole trying to get his kid in trouble, but then Dean really thought about it. He remembered the truly awfully way he felt seeing that black lying ooze on the kid. He remembered the urge to do something, the warm soothing relief he felt doing whatever the heck he did to wash all that crap off of him. He remembered observing the relief the boy had felt inside when he was able to tell the truth, to do the right thing.
“I helped him,” Dean answered slowly, “because lying and hurting people was hurting him and I couldn’t let the kid suffer. I couldn’t let any kid suffer if I could do anything about it.”
Rachel just watched him in silence thinking over his answer. For a second Dean wished he could hear what she was thinking because she seemed to come to a conclusion of some sort and he had no idea what that could be.
The angel before him straightened to attention and bowed. “Forgive me, Dean Winchester,” she intoned like her words were a ceremony. “I have judged you unfairly and with bias. Now I realize my error and I pray that I may be able to one day earn your respect as you have earned mine.”
Dean was trying to work through the unintelligible sputtering in his head when Rachel spread her wings and shot back up to Heaven.
He knew he was gaping like a fish, but all he could say to the empty room around him was, “What the hell just happened?”
Cas, man, he thought to his friend, still trying to understand the last few minutes. I am never going to understand your angels.
*
End.