Fic: So Many Different Suns
Title: So Many Different Suns
Author: judith_88_g
Rating: PG-13
Genre: gen
Characters: Dean, OFC, Sam, John
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 4900
Disclaimer: Still not mine. Don't lose my hope, though.
Summary: pre-series, Outsider POV, Dean is hired by a cranky old lady to do some small jobs around the house. She has pretty distinc assumptions about teenagers and the Winchesters in particular.
A/N: Written for the hoodie-time comment-fic meme and based on the prompt given by crowley_gal which can be found here.
A/N2: I owe a huge thank you to spangielka and manius_777 for their support, suggestions and mistake hunting. Superb hunters indeed.
A/N3:The title is shamelessly stolen from the song "Brothers in Arms" by Dire Straits.
So Many Different Suns
Sarah was sitting on the front porch watching the Carlingtons’ boys chasing each other on their bikes.Rays of the slowly dying sun caressed her skin pleasantly. With a trembling hand she reached for her coffee and sipped gingerly. No one in their right mind would call her sentimental - she prided herself in being a down-to-earth and highly pragmatic woman - but on the days like these she just couldn’t shake this strange nostalgic feeling. It was the summers that she missed most, the seemingly unending summers of the south with their unbearable heats and humidity that most people hated. The truth was she’d hated them too back in the time when they had been still the reality instead of a faded memory of an old woman. She realized that but it didn’t change the fact that there were not many things she wouldn’t give to leave Minnesota and warm her old bones in the sun of the South again.
The Carlingtons’ kids were much too loud for her liking. It was late and they should already be home saying their prayers and preparing to bed. When she was a girl it was unthinkable to wander the streets without any supervision this late. The times have changed. What kind of an argument was that? Of course they’d changed but it wouldn’t have happened if people hadn’t let them. The way parents brought up their children these days escaped her understanding. How could they expect their kids to grow up decent and responsible if nothing was ever required of them?
Sarah looked at the house on the left. It stood very close, all the buildings on the street looked as if they had originally been meant to share walls but somebody had changed his mind at the very last moment and separated them with those ridiculously narrow strips of ground. The house wasn’t in a good shape even for this district; the paint was almost entirely gone, peeling off in the few places where it was still visible, the backyard looked more like a steppe, some window panes were missing and replaced with wooden planks and God only knew what atrocities awaited discovery inside. It’d been really long since anybody had lived there. She didn’t like the idea of new tenants, she had enough problems with the neighbors to her right.
The family that had moved in three days ago was inside, all three of them, she had seen the man coming back about half an hour ago. At this point, she was certain that there was no woman around. The man didn’t strike her as a responsible type and it was rather doubtful that he was a proper role model for the adolescent boys. In fact, she was keen on believing that he cared more about the full bottle than anything else. With his worn leather jacket and this huge conspicuous black car he reminded her a lot of her second husband and that wasn’t a memory she particularly cherished. The boys looked somewhat disreputable as well, especially the older one who seemed like one of those teenage criminals that they showed on TV. He was likely to become one soon. That was, if he hadn’t already had experience in that area. Who knew, anyway, with such background. The younger boy had a nice round face of a child but she knew it would probably change soon.
Much to Sarah’s surprise, the man, John, as he’d introduced himself, had approached her this morning with a fake broad grin on his face and asked if she would agree for his older boy to help her around. Her immediate thought was to refuse. She hadn’t liked this family from the first look of them and, after all, she had a son who could take care of his old mother. No need for a hired help. However, as much as she was set on believing that James would visit more often she couldn’t really ignore the overgrown lawn or the layers of dust gathering on her beloved furniture. The journeys to the convenience store weren’t getting any easier either. Besides, there was nothing better than work to make a lazy teenager set his priorities straight. So she had said yes, eventually, stressing that it would be only until her son came. Not for a long time, that was. They’d agreed on a small payment and this Dean boy was supposed to come on Monday after school.
***
‘Hello, Mrs. Hill, my name’s Dean Winchester. You talked with my dad on Friday.’
With the boy standing at her front door she could finally have a good look of him, which only confirmed her first impression. He was about fifteen, maybe sixteen, blond hair sticking in all directions, hands in the pockets and the attitude of a typical rebellious teenager written all over his face. No way she was going to allow this kind of behavior towards herself.
‘I remember,’ she snapped tersely, ‘it’s my body that suffers from the old age not my brain. Do you think it’s possible for you, young man, not to take that pose while talking to a woman?’
She saw the boy roll his eyes but he did as he was told.
‘Er…’ He seemed to have a hard time verbalizing his thoughts. One of his hands sailed upwards to scratch the back of his head but he stopped halfway checking her expression as if realizing that the gesture may be also considered disrespectful. ‘So, where do I start,’ and almost like an afterthought, ‘ma’am?’
‘First, I would appreciate it if you did some shopping.’
Feeling wobbly on her feet, she moved back inside the house. She needed to sit down, exhaustion tended to overwhelm her way too quickly these days.
‘Come on, get inside, kid. There is a reason I hired you.’ She called when the boy didn’t as much as moved. ‘But remember, if you stain my carpets with those dirty boots of yours you’ll get yourself an additional not-paid task today.’
The boy wiped his shoes thoroughly before entering muttering grumpily under his breath. She didn’t like the way in which he looked around her living room. It had used to be meticulously clean but now her condition wouldn’t always let her do something as trivial as cursory dusting let alone anything more strenuous. Her legs were worst, they seemed weak and unable of keeping her upright for long. It didn’t cease to annoy her that sitting down always felt like a huge relief.
‘What did you teach, Mrs. Hill?’ She looked up at the boy. He was staring at the old crystal bowl still wrapped in the original bow that her students wrote a dedication on, it’d used to be brightly pink but had lost its color almost entirely over the years.
‘Would you like to see my family album as well?’ She said ironically. ‘Come up here already, will you! I don’t have a whole day for this nonsense despite what you might think.’
‘I bet it was math.’ She could hear the words spoken in a low mumble. He took a seat in front of her behind the table, spread himself negligently and asked in a chipper tone, ‘so what is it that you need me to buy, ma’am?’
Sarah sighed with exasperation and handed him a small piece of paper along with some bills.
‘Here’s the shopping list and the money.’ She looked at him pointedly, ‘I know the prices.’
He was staring back at her blankly, his features frozen in bewilderment. But it disappeared as soon as it’d showed leaving a room for belligerence.
‘Don’t worry I won’t forget a receipt.’ His voice was full of barely contained anger. He motioned to stand up, his expression making her shiver slightly.
‘Oh, there’s nothing to feel offended about. I’m just saying. It’s best when the situation is clear.’
‘Yeah, right, whatever. Be back in a few.’
***
It seemed that the warm weather wasn’t about to live Minnesota anytime soon. Sarah cultivated the ritual of her evening coffee, all those prim and proper doctors be damned. She had quit smoking when her heart had started protesting too loudly but the steaming black beverage was indispensible. Besides, pleasures of the old age seemed scarce already so she wasn’t willing to abjure any more of them. She’d cut down to one or two cups a day and, unlike most people, she relished it most in the evening, just like her mama’d used to. It was something that reminded Sarah of the life in which she’d been happy and living among people who cared instead of in this abysmal all-fake-politeness place.
Her gaze would constantly wander off to the left, to the old house occupied by the Winchester family. It’d been already five days since Dean had started doing some small jobs around the house. And since the black car had disappeared from the driveway. The boys were all by themselves, the idea making her quiver with indignation. Who in their right mind would leave two teenagers alone? No wonder, the crime rate among youth was so high these days if parents didn’t even care what their children did any more. The younger boy was only twelve, she knew because her neighbor’s son was his classmate. Dean was sixteen, not exactly an age at which you’d expect a person to take care of the household. Besides, he wasn’t the most fastidious person in the world. She was getting really annoyed with him, the boy seemed the type that didn’t really care about much apart from his personal well-being, all mouthing-off and teenage impudence.
The to-do list had grown longer than she’d first assumed. The ceiling in the kitchen had needed scrubbing and painting due to mildew, window frames had had to be scraped, sanded, oiled and touched up, some of the old pipes had been almost completely congested, not to mention general cleaning of the house. She was content to finally have somebody take care of all this mess but Dean would not actually knuckle down to work and treat it with proper scrupulousness. She could see laziness and negligence in all of his doings as on more than one occasion the job had been only half done. Sarah decided that she would need to exercise a greater control over his work so that the end result would be more likely to meet her expectations.
***
‘I’ve already told you, dad’ll be back as soon as the job’s done so do me a favor and stop whining, you little wuss.’
Sarah could hear the voice loud and clear. It was dark, the only light cast by the lamps sparsely scattered along the street. She must’ve fallen asleep on her seat, unfinished cup of coffee sitting cold and uninviting on the table. She tilted her head to check who the voice belonged to, though she already knew. Sitting on the stone step of his front door was Dean, back leaning against the frame and hands, obviously, in the pockets. In front of him, pacing around, was his little brother, Sam, if memory served her right.
‘But he said two days top. And I’m not whining!’ The younger boy’s voice was noticeably strained.
What time could it be? It was still considerably warm and pleasant outside but a sickle moon hanging in the impenetrable black above told her it was already night.
‘So the gig got a bit more complicated than he’d first thought, I’ve already told you that as well.’ There was a hint of impatience to the words. ‘Anyway, what’s up with the sudden mawkishness for dad, huh? Last time I checked you weren’t exactly throwing him a welcome party.’
‘I didn’t wanna move again, that’s different!’
Again? She wondered how many places the’d lived in before.
‘Only in that shitful magic world of yours. What do you need dad for?’
Silence. She wanted to take a look at the boys but the scare that they might notice the movement stopped her. This conversation got her pinned to her seat. She was curious about Dean and about this whole family which seemed weirder and weirder with every minute.
‘He sort of needs to go talk to my P.E. teacher.’ The boy’s voice was hesitant and quiet.
‘To your teacher?’ Dean, in contrast, became clearly irate at the information. ‘ What the fuck for?’
She suddenly was struck by the vivid image of her father yelling at her in their living room for something, probably connected with school. Or maybe not? She couldn’t quite recall. Like most people, her dad had had this helpless habit of getting mad when actually he’d been worried. She could hear it in Dean’s words too, a parent-like anxiety burrowed under a rapid outburst of anger. She pondered briefly how often Dean had to step in his father’s shoes when the man was absent. It seemed to her that it wasn’t actually anything new for the boy, the idea remaining in striking contrast to his usual disregardful pose towards everything and everyone.
‘I think, he wants to convince him to let me join the team.’
‘The team? What team?’ Dean’s words were interrupted by a sudden attack of cough. ‘What kind of a bullshit story you want me to buy here?’
‘It’s not bullshit!’ Words cried out in a high pitch. ‘There’s a baseball team and he said, I mean, the coach, it’s just for fun and working out some of the teenage frustrations but I’m fast and I’ve got talent, and there might be a player out of me some day.’
‘The coach?’ Dean cut in his brother’s jabbering with a mixture of astonishment and amusement. ‘Christ, Sammy, something is seriously wrong with you. So what? That jocky dickhead saw your huge potential and suddenly felt the need to share his great hopes with dad?’
Again a moment of silence. The answer was so quiet that Sarah could barely make out the words.
‘I sorta might’ve mentioned that dad wouldn’t let me join the team.’
‘Come again? And what the fuck possessed you to say something like that? Couldn’t you just tell him that you don’t wanna play in any stupid team, plain and simple? It would definitely save us the troubles!’
‘Maybe I do want to play in that stupid team and dad really wouldn’t let me!’ Now it was Dean’s brother’s turn to take an annoyed tone.
‘Oh, you gotta be freaking kidding me?’ Anger was gradually replaced by disbelief and, finally, a chuckle. ‘You want to be a baseball player? Maybe I really should check you with some holy water?’
‘I’m not kidding,’ his brother’s laugh seemed to drain some of the chagrin out of the boy. ‘It’s just, dunno. I would be a part of the team. Not a freak. And maybe I could make some friends. You ever heard of something like that before?’
‘What are you talking about? I got plenty of friends.’
‘You got girlfriends, Dean, and it’s not the same thing. Besides, you don’t even treat them like ones.’
‘Oh I treat them like girlfriends alright, Sammy-boy. You want me to give you some tips? I could definitely give you some tips!’
She could hear the younger boy’s giggles. ‘You’re such a jerk!’
‘And you are a little annoying troublemaking prick.’ Dean said in a cheerful voice as if reciting a piece of poetry that he was particularly proud of. ‘Ok, Sammy, focus. What did you tell the coach about dad?’
‘That I’d tell him he wanted to see him’
‘Looks like you haven’t lost all of your brain cells after all.’ Another chuckle but disturbed by cough. ‘You really want to play?’ Dean’s voice was serious again.
‘Yeah, I mean, I’m not sure if I like it but I wanna try.’
‘Ok, we’ll figure something out.’ It was said lightly but the phrase had such a strange finality that Sarah wouldn’t dare to doubt it even for a second. ‘You think the signature will do? I mean there must be some freaking paper for dad to sign, right?’
‘Yeah, it’ll do,’ surprisingly, Sam seemed hesitant again, ‘ but, Dean, dad will be pissed when he finds out.’
‘Nah, don’t lose your precious sleep over that. Go to bed, I’m…’ He was interrupted by another attack of cough.
‘Seriously, dude, I don’t like your cough.’ Now it was Sam who sounded worried.
‘Well, I don’t like your ugly face and I still have to look at it every freaking day. Come on, prick, bed, now, before I check how fast you really are.’
***
Sarah was making herself a sandwich, Dean already there, mowing the front lawn at the very moment. The kid had showed up at her doorstep with a black eye, a clear sign of a fight. She hadn’t commented on that but she really started to feel that hiring that boy had been a mistake. He hadn’t done what he’d been paid for, at least not in a satisfactory manner, and he acted like an impertinent ungrateful teenager who was bound to bring her troubles. And there was that eavesdropped conversation from the previous night which wouldn’t leave her alone. All the bits and pieces of information that she’d collected were unsettling and she didn’t really know what to make of them. On the one hand, Dean looking after his younger brother didn’t seem so irresponsible and self-centered anymore, the affection and care almost tangibly clear. On the other hand, this family definitely had its issues and Sarah wasn’t really sure that any connection with them was such a good idea.
As she was slowly walking to the front porch to keep an eye on the boy, she realized that the peace and quiet of the sunny afternoon wasn’t disturbed by any sound, by a piercing whir of the mower’s engine in particular. Suddenly, she lost all her patience. It’d been only what? Fifteen minutes since he’d started? And already a break? His impudence was unbelievable and she definitely wasn’t going to allow it. Either he worked or went home, she was not paying some lazy brat for sitting on her lawn.
‘I thought I told you to mow the grass! You may sunbathe when you’re done.’ She yelled once she put her foot on the threshold. The boy was sitting on a step of the front porch, she could see his arched back, head hidden between folded arms. He didn’t say a word, which made her only more furious.
‘Kid, I’m talking to you! Drop the attitude right now or pack yourself and go home.’
‘Can’t. Too wiggly.’ It wasn’t his usual confident timbre. The words were quiet and sounded confused, which somehow caught her off guard.
‘What?’
But the kid didn’t respond, head still burrowed in his arms.
‘Dean, did you take something?’
That would explain his strange behavior. However, he was still just sitting there, not reacting to her words. Sarah moved closer wanting to draw his attention, she was mad at the kid but something like worry started to crystallize in her when she looked down at the cuddled figure. She touched his arm and his whole body immediately flinched.
‘Hey, hey, it’s alright.’ She said mildly. He acted like a wounded animal and she didn’t want him to run away on her in this state. ‘Dean, it’s important, did you take any pills?’
‘S’mmy back?’ His voice sounded miserable.
Sarah crouched with difficulty in front of the boy, her kneecaps protesting loudly as she did. She put both of her palms on his folded arms hoping that the touch would make him focus rather than push her away. The boy was shivering.
‘Sammy? Your little brother?’
‘Yeah, he back?’ Finally, he lifted his head, flush in his cheeks and glassy eyes, or rather one eye as the other was barely visible due to the swelling, told her enough. On instinct, she pressed her hand to the boy’s forehead, he was burning up.
‘I think, he’s home.’ Sarah wasn’t sure if she’d answered his question. Apparently yes, as his features relaxed a bit and something similar to relief crossed the boy’s face. The reaction surprised her at first, it wasn’t typical of a teenager to ask whether his twelve-year-old brother was already back from school as if it was the single most important thing in the entire world but then again, it wasn’t typical for a sixteen-year-old to be in charge of the household. Suddenly, this strong sense of responsibility didn’t seem so out of place anymore. Who knew how often they had been left all by themselves and the boy had to look after his younger brother. The realization, however, didn’t put her at ease. The opposite, if anything.
‘Dean, you have a fever, you need to lie down. Where’s your dad?’ She said loudly.
‘Dad’s on a... job’
Means he’s gone. As if she didn’t know that already.
‘Ok, I’ll get you home now. Come on.’
The boy stood up obediently, his jaw set, he looked up, confused.
‘Home?’
‘Yeah, home, look it’s over there, it’s not far.’ She tried to sound reassuring, she could feel the heat radiating through the kid’s body, the yesterday’s attacks of cough vivid in her memory. Maybe she should take him to a doctor, he could have bronchitis or pneumonia? Yet, it wasn’t really her role, wasn’t it? First, she had to try to contact the boy’s father.
‘Oh,’ Dean sighed as he looked in the indicated direction at the old ramshackle building realizing what she was talking about, a whole story trapped in a single syllable making her lose all her breath. Against her will, she wondered briefly whether there had ever been a place in the boy’s life that he could actually call home.
They walked slowly, Sarah praying in her thoughts for the kid not to lose his balance, she doubted she could catch him. They somehow managed to reach the front door and she knocked hard.
‘Who’s there?’ From the inside of the house came a hesitant shout.
‘’S me.’ Dean answered in a weak voice before she could say anything.
Sarah heard the metallic sound of unlocking the door and some muttering about godamn keys in the background, which, said in a boy’s voice, gave a somewhat grotesque effect. Finally, the small figure of Dean’s brother appeared in front of her eyes, his expression changing immediately from mad to terrified.
‘Dean,’ he started but she chimed in.
‘Your brother wasn’t feeling well so I walked him home. He’s got a fever and I think, he needs some rest but it’s nothing serious, nothing to worry about, ok? I need you to give me your father’s number.’ From her experience, simple commends usually worked best with scared children. Besides, she felt exhausted by the whole situation and would gratefully pass the responsibility for the kid on somebody else.
Dean looked at her as if surprised by her presence and then at Sam who wouldn’t take his eyes of him.
‘’S ok, Sammy, just a cold or some other shit.’ He said walking inside. Sarah followed his footsteps unceremoniously.
The interior was just in the state as the elevation of the building suggested. Few pieces of dilapidated furniture, strangely yellowish walls and shabby carpets, all probably left by the previous tenants. Sam was hastily arranging a couch into a bed, bringing some pillows and rough looking blankets. He kept sending suspicious looks towards Sarah.
Dean perched heavily on the couch, his brother placing a palm on his forehead. Dean winced in disgust at the action but didn’t say anything.
‘And what happened to your face?’ Sam asked worriedly.
‘My face?’
‘Yeah, your face. Was it someone at school?’
‘Fuckin’ fever, made me all loopy.’
‘Ok, man, here, swallow it.’ The boy passed his brother a glass of water and some pills. Tylenol, she observed. ‘Come on, lie down.’ He nudged Dean slightly. His voice was steady but Sarah could see fear written all over his face. No matter how mature his actions seemed, he was still just a twelve-year-old.
‘It’s good, Sam.’ Dean said out of the blue, his whole body trembling visibly under the blankets his brother had tucked him in.
‘What’s good?’
‘Your joining the team. It’s good.’ The voice was barely audible as half of the kid’s face was covered by the fabric. ‘May save you… troubles.’
At that Sarah’s heart sank again. She remembered how difficult it had been for kids to be new at school, how mindless and cruel students could sometimes get. She cleared her throat. ‘Sam, I think it’s time to call your father, your brother might need to see a doctor.’
A pair of hazel eyes looked at her. ‘Yeah, I guess, you’re right, Mrs. Hill.’ He motioned to stand up. ‘Could you…’
‘I’ll make sure your brother is ok. Go on.’
The boy walked out to another room not at all content with leaving his sick brother in the company of a stranger. Sarah felt relieved. Judging by the condition of the house, she had been afraid that there simply might not be a phone or that the contact would be impossible for other reasons that she didn’t even want to dwell on. She looked at the irregular lump wheezing on the couch. The cough, the hoodie worn despite the warmth, the glassy eyes, everything had been laid out in front of her. She should’ve noticed.
‘I know it’s tough being a new student.’ Sarah said gently in a low voice. Dean might have fallen asleep and she was far from aiming to wake him up. However, the lump moved at the sound and the boy turned his head into her direction, freckles in high contrast with his pale skin.
‘Kinda got used to it.’ Now, when finally lying down instead of walking in full sun, the boy seemed more lucid.
‘So you move a lot, huh?’
Dean squinted, suspicion arising on his face.
‘I saw many kids entering a new school.’ She continued not waiting for his response. ‘Finding people with similar interests usually helps. Maybe you should think of joining some team, just like your brother did.’
The boy looked at her with a puzzled frown as if surprised that she’d suggested something like that. He seemed to be tasting the idea, rolling it in his head, almost like it had never occurred to him before only to finally regain his usual careless expression, the effect significantly disturbed by the sheer of sweat gleaming on his temple
‘Nah,’ he said dismissively. He could’ve refused a helping of pancakes in the same manner. ‘There’s no point. ‘Sides I’ve never been good at team sports, anyway.’
‘Dad was already on his way when I called. He said he’ll be here real soon.’ Sarah silently thanked for Sam’s reappearance because she had no idea what to tell Dean. The boy’s words were aimed to sound light but all she could see were resignation and sorrow, which hit her harder than she’d ever thought possible. Dean was already drifting off, lids weighing heavily over the green eyes. She was just sitting there, staring at the boy, motionless and overwhelmed. At that very moment he looked like the kid he was, too weak and tired to display any kind of show, no impertinence, no cockiness, no snarky remarks, not even overprotectiveness towards his brother. But then again, maybe she was wrong and it had nothing to do with any show. Maybe he just was all those things. And many more. Maybe his life had molded him into a person he should have never become otherwise.
‘Mrs. Hill?’ Sam’s voice seemed distant.
She cleared her throat. ‘That’s good Sam. I think your brother’s doing better. There’s no need for me to stay. Call if anything happens.’
Accompanied by a quiet thank you, Sarah entered the sunny afternoon.
The silence was suddenly perturbed by the ramble of an engine. Sarah stopped in front of her house watching the black car pull up swiftly on the driveway. From the inside sprang the dark haired man. John. Dad. He noticed her and gave a hurried nod without really paying any attention to her, his face troubled and focused. He didn’t remind Sarah of her second husband anymore, there was too much care and worry in his expression. The warm feeling of relief and illogical certainty that now everything would be alright filled her up when the man disappeared in the house. She felt that behind the old scrapped door there was an entirely different world, world that she had been given a glimpse of but that would always remain beyond her understanding. She was both glad and rueful to leave it.
***
Two weeks later they were gone. John had come to thank her for looking after his kid and he seemed genuinely grateful. She’d seen Dean a few times, he would wave and beam at her but never approach to talk. Another town, another school, another home that would never have a chance to actually become one. The Winchesters were to remain mystery for her and maybe it was better this way. She sometimes thought of them, irrational thoughts that would spring to her mind uninvited. She might’ve left them then, behind that old wooden door, but she doubted they would ever leave her.
A/N4: Feedback is made of sunshine and delicious candy. So that you know.
Author: judith_88_g
Rating: PG-13
Genre: gen
Characters: Dean, OFC, Sam, John
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 4900
Disclaimer: Still not mine. Don't lose my hope, though.
Summary: pre-series, Outsider POV, Dean is hired by a cranky old lady to do some small jobs around the house. She has pretty distinc assumptions about teenagers and the Winchesters in particular.
A/N: Written for the hoodie-time comment-fic meme and based on the prompt given by crowley_gal which can be found here.
A/N2: I owe a huge thank you to spangielka and manius_777 for their support, suggestions and mistake hunting. Superb hunters indeed.
A/N3:The title is shamelessly stolen from the song "Brothers in Arms" by Dire Straits.
So Many Different Suns
Sarah was sitting on the front porch watching the Carlingtons’ boys chasing each other on their bikes.Rays of the slowly dying sun caressed her skin pleasantly. With a trembling hand she reached for her coffee and sipped gingerly. No one in their right mind would call her sentimental - she prided herself in being a down-to-earth and highly pragmatic woman - but on the days like these she just couldn’t shake this strange nostalgic feeling. It was the summers that she missed most, the seemingly unending summers of the south with their unbearable heats and humidity that most people hated. The truth was she’d hated them too back in the time when they had been still the reality instead of a faded memory of an old woman. She realized that but it didn’t change the fact that there were not many things she wouldn’t give to leave Minnesota and warm her old bones in the sun of the South again.
The Carlingtons’ kids were much too loud for her liking. It was late and they should already be home saying their prayers and preparing to bed. When she was a girl it was unthinkable to wander the streets without any supervision this late. The times have changed. What kind of an argument was that? Of course they’d changed but it wouldn’t have happened if people hadn’t let them. The way parents brought up their children these days escaped her understanding. How could they expect their kids to grow up decent and responsible if nothing was ever required of them?
Sarah looked at the house on the left. It stood very close, all the buildings on the street looked as if they had originally been meant to share walls but somebody had changed his mind at the very last moment and separated them with those ridiculously narrow strips of ground. The house wasn’t in a good shape even for this district; the paint was almost entirely gone, peeling off in the few places where it was still visible, the backyard looked more like a steppe, some window panes were missing and replaced with wooden planks and God only knew what atrocities awaited discovery inside. It’d been really long since anybody had lived there. She didn’t like the idea of new tenants, she had enough problems with the neighbors to her right.
The family that had moved in three days ago was inside, all three of them, she had seen the man coming back about half an hour ago. At this point, she was certain that there was no woman around. The man didn’t strike her as a responsible type and it was rather doubtful that he was a proper role model for the adolescent boys. In fact, she was keen on believing that he cared more about the full bottle than anything else. With his worn leather jacket and this huge conspicuous black car he reminded her a lot of her second husband and that wasn’t a memory she particularly cherished. The boys looked somewhat disreputable as well, especially the older one who seemed like one of those teenage criminals that they showed on TV. He was likely to become one soon. That was, if he hadn’t already had experience in that area. Who knew, anyway, with such background. The younger boy had a nice round face of a child but she knew it would probably change soon.
Much to Sarah’s surprise, the man, John, as he’d introduced himself, had approached her this morning with a fake broad grin on his face and asked if she would agree for his older boy to help her around. Her immediate thought was to refuse. She hadn’t liked this family from the first look of them and, after all, she had a son who could take care of his old mother. No need for a hired help. However, as much as she was set on believing that James would visit more often she couldn’t really ignore the overgrown lawn or the layers of dust gathering on her beloved furniture. The journeys to the convenience store weren’t getting any easier either. Besides, there was nothing better than work to make a lazy teenager set his priorities straight. So she had said yes, eventually, stressing that it would be only until her son came. Not for a long time, that was. They’d agreed on a small payment and this Dean boy was supposed to come on Monday after school.
***
‘Hello, Mrs. Hill, my name’s Dean Winchester. You talked with my dad on Friday.’
With the boy standing at her front door she could finally have a good look of him, which only confirmed her first impression. He was about fifteen, maybe sixteen, blond hair sticking in all directions, hands in the pockets and the attitude of a typical rebellious teenager written all over his face. No way she was going to allow this kind of behavior towards herself.
‘I remember,’ she snapped tersely, ‘it’s my body that suffers from the old age not my brain. Do you think it’s possible for you, young man, not to take that pose while talking to a woman?’
She saw the boy roll his eyes but he did as he was told.
‘Er…’ He seemed to have a hard time verbalizing his thoughts. One of his hands sailed upwards to scratch the back of his head but he stopped halfway checking her expression as if realizing that the gesture may be also considered disrespectful. ‘So, where do I start,’ and almost like an afterthought, ‘ma’am?’
‘First, I would appreciate it if you did some shopping.’
Feeling wobbly on her feet, she moved back inside the house. She needed to sit down, exhaustion tended to overwhelm her way too quickly these days.
‘Come on, get inside, kid. There is a reason I hired you.’ She called when the boy didn’t as much as moved. ‘But remember, if you stain my carpets with those dirty boots of yours you’ll get yourself an additional not-paid task today.’
The boy wiped his shoes thoroughly before entering muttering grumpily under his breath. She didn’t like the way in which he looked around her living room. It had used to be meticulously clean but now her condition wouldn’t always let her do something as trivial as cursory dusting let alone anything more strenuous. Her legs were worst, they seemed weak and unable of keeping her upright for long. It didn’t cease to annoy her that sitting down always felt like a huge relief.
‘What did you teach, Mrs. Hill?’ She looked up at the boy. He was staring at the old crystal bowl still wrapped in the original bow that her students wrote a dedication on, it’d used to be brightly pink but had lost its color almost entirely over the years.
‘Would you like to see my family album as well?’ She said ironically. ‘Come up here already, will you! I don’t have a whole day for this nonsense despite what you might think.’
‘I bet it was math.’ She could hear the words spoken in a low mumble. He took a seat in front of her behind the table, spread himself negligently and asked in a chipper tone, ‘so what is it that you need me to buy, ma’am?’
Sarah sighed with exasperation and handed him a small piece of paper along with some bills.
‘Here’s the shopping list and the money.’ She looked at him pointedly, ‘I know the prices.’
He was staring back at her blankly, his features frozen in bewilderment. But it disappeared as soon as it’d showed leaving a room for belligerence.
‘Don’t worry I won’t forget a receipt.’ His voice was full of barely contained anger. He motioned to stand up, his expression making her shiver slightly.
‘Oh, there’s nothing to feel offended about. I’m just saying. It’s best when the situation is clear.’
‘Yeah, right, whatever. Be back in a few.’
***
It seemed that the warm weather wasn’t about to live Minnesota anytime soon. Sarah cultivated the ritual of her evening coffee, all those prim and proper doctors be damned. She had quit smoking when her heart had started protesting too loudly but the steaming black beverage was indispensible. Besides, pleasures of the old age seemed scarce already so she wasn’t willing to abjure any more of them. She’d cut down to one or two cups a day and, unlike most people, she relished it most in the evening, just like her mama’d used to. It was something that reminded Sarah of the life in which she’d been happy and living among people who cared instead of in this abysmal all-fake-politeness place.
Her gaze would constantly wander off to the left, to the old house occupied by the Winchester family. It’d been already five days since Dean had started doing some small jobs around the house. And since the black car had disappeared from the driveway. The boys were all by themselves, the idea making her quiver with indignation. Who in their right mind would leave two teenagers alone? No wonder, the crime rate among youth was so high these days if parents didn’t even care what their children did any more. The younger boy was only twelve, she knew because her neighbor’s son was his classmate. Dean was sixteen, not exactly an age at which you’d expect a person to take care of the household. Besides, he wasn’t the most fastidious person in the world. She was getting really annoyed with him, the boy seemed the type that didn’t really care about much apart from his personal well-being, all mouthing-off and teenage impudence.
The to-do list had grown longer than she’d first assumed. The ceiling in the kitchen had needed scrubbing and painting due to mildew, window frames had had to be scraped, sanded, oiled and touched up, some of the old pipes had been almost completely congested, not to mention general cleaning of the house. She was content to finally have somebody take care of all this mess but Dean would not actually knuckle down to work and treat it with proper scrupulousness. She could see laziness and negligence in all of his doings as on more than one occasion the job had been only half done. Sarah decided that she would need to exercise a greater control over his work so that the end result would be more likely to meet her expectations.
***
‘I’ve already told you, dad’ll be back as soon as the job’s done so do me a favor and stop whining, you little wuss.’
Sarah could hear the voice loud and clear. It was dark, the only light cast by the lamps sparsely scattered along the street. She must’ve fallen asleep on her seat, unfinished cup of coffee sitting cold and uninviting on the table. She tilted her head to check who the voice belonged to, though she already knew. Sitting on the stone step of his front door was Dean, back leaning against the frame and hands, obviously, in the pockets. In front of him, pacing around, was his little brother, Sam, if memory served her right.
‘But he said two days top. And I’m not whining!’ The younger boy’s voice was noticeably strained.
What time could it be? It was still considerably warm and pleasant outside but a sickle moon hanging in the impenetrable black above told her it was already night.
‘So the gig got a bit more complicated than he’d first thought, I’ve already told you that as well.’ There was a hint of impatience to the words. ‘Anyway, what’s up with the sudden mawkishness for dad, huh? Last time I checked you weren’t exactly throwing him a welcome party.’
‘I didn’t wanna move again, that’s different!’
Again? She wondered how many places the’d lived in before.
‘Only in that shitful magic world of yours. What do you need dad for?’
Silence. She wanted to take a look at the boys but the scare that they might notice the movement stopped her. This conversation got her pinned to her seat. She was curious about Dean and about this whole family which seemed weirder and weirder with every minute.
‘He sort of needs to go talk to my P.E. teacher.’ The boy’s voice was hesitant and quiet.
‘To your teacher?’ Dean, in contrast, became clearly irate at the information. ‘ What the fuck for?’
She suddenly was struck by the vivid image of her father yelling at her in their living room for something, probably connected with school. Or maybe not? She couldn’t quite recall. Like most people, her dad had had this helpless habit of getting mad when actually he’d been worried. She could hear it in Dean’s words too, a parent-like anxiety burrowed under a rapid outburst of anger. She pondered briefly how often Dean had to step in his father’s shoes when the man was absent. It seemed to her that it wasn’t actually anything new for the boy, the idea remaining in striking contrast to his usual disregardful pose towards everything and everyone.
‘I think, he wants to convince him to let me join the team.’
‘The team? What team?’ Dean’s words were interrupted by a sudden attack of cough. ‘What kind of a bullshit story you want me to buy here?’
‘It’s not bullshit!’ Words cried out in a high pitch. ‘There’s a baseball team and he said, I mean, the coach, it’s just for fun and working out some of the teenage frustrations but I’m fast and I’ve got talent, and there might be a player out of me some day.’
‘The coach?’ Dean cut in his brother’s jabbering with a mixture of astonishment and amusement. ‘Christ, Sammy, something is seriously wrong with you. So what? That jocky dickhead saw your huge potential and suddenly felt the need to share his great hopes with dad?’
Again a moment of silence. The answer was so quiet that Sarah could barely make out the words.
‘I sorta might’ve mentioned that dad wouldn’t let me join the team.’
‘Come again? And what the fuck possessed you to say something like that? Couldn’t you just tell him that you don’t wanna play in any stupid team, plain and simple? It would definitely save us the troubles!’
‘Maybe I do want to play in that stupid team and dad really wouldn’t let me!’ Now it was Dean’s brother’s turn to take an annoyed tone.
‘Oh, you gotta be freaking kidding me?’ Anger was gradually replaced by disbelief and, finally, a chuckle. ‘You want to be a baseball player? Maybe I really should check you with some holy water?’
‘I’m not kidding,’ his brother’s laugh seemed to drain some of the chagrin out of the boy. ‘It’s just, dunno. I would be a part of the team. Not a freak. And maybe I could make some friends. You ever heard of something like that before?’
‘What are you talking about? I got plenty of friends.’
‘You got girlfriends, Dean, and it’s not the same thing. Besides, you don’t even treat them like ones.’
‘Oh I treat them like girlfriends alright, Sammy-boy. You want me to give you some tips? I could definitely give you some tips!’
She could hear the younger boy’s giggles. ‘You’re such a jerk!’
‘And you are a little annoying troublemaking prick.’ Dean said in a cheerful voice as if reciting a piece of poetry that he was particularly proud of. ‘Ok, Sammy, focus. What did you tell the coach about dad?’
‘That I’d tell him he wanted to see him’
‘Looks like you haven’t lost all of your brain cells after all.’ Another chuckle but disturbed by cough. ‘You really want to play?’ Dean’s voice was serious again.
‘Yeah, I mean, I’m not sure if I like it but I wanna try.’
‘Ok, we’ll figure something out.’ It was said lightly but the phrase had such a strange finality that Sarah wouldn’t dare to doubt it even for a second. ‘You think the signature will do? I mean there must be some freaking paper for dad to sign, right?’
‘Yeah, it’ll do,’ surprisingly, Sam seemed hesitant again, ‘ but, Dean, dad will be pissed when he finds out.’
‘Nah, don’t lose your precious sleep over that. Go to bed, I’m…’ He was interrupted by another attack of cough.
‘Seriously, dude, I don’t like your cough.’ Now it was Sam who sounded worried.
‘Well, I don’t like your ugly face and I still have to look at it every freaking day. Come on, prick, bed, now, before I check how fast you really are.’
***
Sarah was making herself a sandwich, Dean already there, mowing the front lawn at the very moment. The kid had showed up at her doorstep with a black eye, a clear sign of a fight. She hadn’t commented on that but she really started to feel that hiring that boy had been a mistake. He hadn’t done what he’d been paid for, at least not in a satisfactory manner, and he acted like an impertinent ungrateful teenager who was bound to bring her troubles. And there was that eavesdropped conversation from the previous night which wouldn’t leave her alone. All the bits and pieces of information that she’d collected were unsettling and she didn’t really know what to make of them. On the one hand, Dean looking after his younger brother didn’t seem so irresponsible and self-centered anymore, the affection and care almost tangibly clear. On the other hand, this family definitely had its issues and Sarah wasn’t really sure that any connection with them was such a good idea.
As she was slowly walking to the front porch to keep an eye on the boy, she realized that the peace and quiet of the sunny afternoon wasn’t disturbed by any sound, by a piercing whir of the mower’s engine in particular. Suddenly, she lost all her patience. It’d been only what? Fifteen minutes since he’d started? And already a break? His impudence was unbelievable and she definitely wasn’t going to allow it. Either he worked or went home, she was not paying some lazy brat for sitting on her lawn.
‘I thought I told you to mow the grass! You may sunbathe when you’re done.’ She yelled once she put her foot on the threshold. The boy was sitting on a step of the front porch, she could see his arched back, head hidden between folded arms. He didn’t say a word, which made her only more furious.
‘Kid, I’m talking to you! Drop the attitude right now or pack yourself and go home.’
‘Can’t. Too wiggly.’ It wasn’t his usual confident timbre. The words were quiet and sounded confused, which somehow caught her off guard.
‘What?’
But the kid didn’t respond, head still burrowed in his arms.
‘Dean, did you take something?’
That would explain his strange behavior. However, he was still just sitting there, not reacting to her words. Sarah moved closer wanting to draw his attention, she was mad at the kid but something like worry started to crystallize in her when she looked down at the cuddled figure. She touched his arm and his whole body immediately flinched.
‘Hey, hey, it’s alright.’ She said mildly. He acted like a wounded animal and she didn’t want him to run away on her in this state. ‘Dean, it’s important, did you take any pills?’
‘S’mmy back?’ His voice sounded miserable.
Sarah crouched with difficulty in front of the boy, her kneecaps protesting loudly as she did. She put both of her palms on his folded arms hoping that the touch would make him focus rather than push her away. The boy was shivering.
‘Sammy? Your little brother?’
‘Yeah, he back?’ Finally, he lifted his head, flush in his cheeks and glassy eyes, or rather one eye as the other was barely visible due to the swelling, told her enough. On instinct, she pressed her hand to the boy’s forehead, he was burning up.
‘I think, he’s home.’ Sarah wasn’t sure if she’d answered his question. Apparently yes, as his features relaxed a bit and something similar to relief crossed the boy’s face. The reaction surprised her at first, it wasn’t typical of a teenager to ask whether his twelve-year-old brother was already back from school as if it was the single most important thing in the entire world but then again, it wasn’t typical for a sixteen-year-old to be in charge of the household. Suddenly, this strong sense of responsibility didn’t seem so out of place anymore. Who knew how often they had been left all by themselves and the boy had to look after his younger brother. The realization, however, didn’t put her at ease. The opposite, if anything.
‘Dean, you have a fever, you need to lie down. Where’s your dad?’ She said loudly.
‘Dad’s on a... job’
Means he’s gone. As if she didn’t know that already.
‘Ok, I’ll get you home now. Come on.’
The boy stood up obediently, his jaw set, he looked up, confused.
‘Home?’
‘Yeah, home, look it’s over there, it’s not far.’ She tried to sound reassuring, she could feel the heat radiating through the kid’s body, the yesterday’s attacks of cough vivid in her memory. Maybe she should take him to a doctor, he could have bronchitis or pneumonia? Yet, it wasn’t really her role, wasn’t it? First, she had to try to contact the boy’s father.
‘Oh,’ Dean sighed as he looked in the indicated direction at the old ramshackle building realizing what she was talking about, a whole story trapped in a single syllable making her lose all her breath. Against her will, she wondered briefly whether there had ever been a place in the boy’s life that he could actually call home.
They walked slowly, Sarah praying in her thoughts for the kid not to lose his balance, she doubted she could catch him. They somehow managed to reach the front door and she knocked hard.
‘Who’s there?’ From the inside of the house came a hesitant shout.
‘’S me.’ Dean answered in a weak voice before she could say anything.
Sarah heard the metallic sound of unlocking the door and some muttering about godamn keys in the background, which, said in a boy’s voice, gave a somewhat grotesque effect. Finally, the small figure of Dean’s brother appeared in front of her eyes, his expression changing immediately from mad to terrified.
‘Dean,’ he started but she chimed in.
‘Your brother wasn’t feeling well so I walked him home. He’s got a fever and I think, he needs some rest but it’s nothing serious, nothing to worry about, ok? I need you to give me your father’s number.’ From her experience, simple commends usually worked best with scared children. Besides, she felt exhausted by the whole situation and would gratefully pass the responsibility for the kid on somebody else.
Dean looked at her as if surprised by her presence and then at Sam who wouldn’t take his eyes of him.
‘’S ok, Sammy, just a cold or some other shit.’ He said walking inside. Sarah followed his footsteps unceremoniously.
The interior was just in the state as the elevation of the building suggested. Few pieces of dilapidated furniture, strangely yellowish walls and shabby carpets, all probably left by the previous tenants. Sam was hastily arranging a couch into a bed, bringing some pillows and rough looking blankets. He kept sending suspicious looks towards Sarah.
Dean perched heavily on the couch, his brother placing a palm on his forehead. Dean winced in disgust at the action but didn’t say anything.
‘And what happened to your face?’ Sam asked worriedly.
‘My face?’
‘Yeah, your face. Was it someone at school?’
‘Fuckin’ fever, made me all loopy.’
‘Ok, man, here, swallow it.’ The boy passed his brother a glass of water and some pills. Tylenol, she observed. ‘Come on, lie down.’ He nudged Dean slightly. His voice was steady but Sarah could see fear written all over his face. No matter how mature his actions seemed, he was still just a twelve-year-old.
‘It’s good, Sam.’ Dean said out of the blue, his whole body trembling visibly under the blankets his brother had tucked him in.
‘What’s good?’
‘Your joining the team. It’s good.’ The voice was barely audible as half of the kid’s face was covered by the fabric. ‘May save you… troubles.’
At that Sarah’s heart sank again. She remembered how difficult it had been for kids to be new at school, how mindless and cruel students could sometimes get. She cleared her throat. ‘Sam, I think it’s time to call your father, your brother might need to see a doctor.’
A pair of hazel eyes looked at her. ‘Yeah, I guess, you’re right, Mrs. Hill.’ He motioned to stand up. ‘Could you…’
‘I’ll make sure your brother is ok. Go on.’
The boy walked out to another room not at all content with leaving his sick brother in the company of a stranger. Sarah felt relieved. Judging by the condition of the house, she had been afraid that there simply might not be a phone or that the contact would be impossible for other reasons that she didn’t even want to dwell on. She looked at the irregular lump wheezing on the couch. The cough, the hoodie worn despite the warmth, the glassy eyes, everything had been laid out in front of her. She should’ve noticed.
‘I know it’s tough being a new student.’ Sarah said gently in a low voice. Dean might have fallen asleep and she was far from aiming to wake him up. However, the lump moved at the sound and the boy turned his head into her direction, freckles in high contrast with his pale skin.
‘Kinda got used to it.’ Now, when finally lying down instead of walking in full sun, the boy seemed more lucid.
‘So you move a lot, huh?’
Dean squinted, suspicion arising on his face.
‘I saw many kids entering a new school.’ She continued not waiting for his response. ‘Finding people with similar interests usually helps. Maybe you should think of joining some team, just like your brother did.’
The boy looked at her with a puzzled frown as if surprised that she’d suggested something like that. He seemed to be tasting the idea, rolling it in his head, almost like it had never occurred to him before only to finally regain his usual careless expression, the effect significantly disturbed by the sheer of sweat gleaming on his temple
‘Nah,’ he said dismissively. He could’ve refused a helping of pancakes in the same manner. ‘There’s no point. ‘Sides I’ve never been good at team sports, anyway.’
‘Dad was already on his way when I called. He said he’ll be here real soon.’ Sarah silently thanked for Sam’s reappearance because she had no idea what to tell Dean. The boy’s words were aimed to sound light but all she could see were resignation and sorrow, which hit her harder than she’d ever thought possible. Dean was already drifting off, lids weighing heavily over the green eyes. She was just sitting there, staring at the boy, motionless and overwhelmed. At that very moment he looked like the kid he was, too weak and tired to display any kind of show, no impertinence, no cockiness, no snarky remarks, not even overprotectiveness towards his brother. But then again, maybe she was wrong and it had nothing to do with any show. Maybe he just was all those things. And many more. Maybe his life had molded him into a person he should have never become otherwise.
‘Mrs. Hill?’ Sam’s voice seemed distant.
She cleared her throat. ‘That’s good Sam. I think your brother’s doing better. There’s no need for me to stay. Call if anything happens.’
Accompanied by a quiet thank you, Sarah entered the sunny afternoon.
The silence was suddenly perturbed by the ramble of an engine. Sarah stopped in front of her house watching the black car pull up swiftly on the driveway. From the inside sprang the dark haired man. John. Dad. He noticed her and gave a hurried nod without really paying any attention to her, his face troubled and focused. He didn’t remind Sarah of her second husband anymore, there was too much care and worry in his expression. The warm feeling of relief and illogical certainty that now everything would be alright filled her up when the man disappeared in the house. She felt that behind the old scrapped door there was an entirely different world, world that she had been given a glimpse of but that would always remain beyond her understanding. She was both glad and rueful to leave it.
***
Two weeks later they were gone. John had come to thank her for looking after his kid and he seemed genuinely grateful. She’d seen Dean a few times, he would wave and beam at her but never approach to talk. Another town, another school, another home that would never have a chance to actually become one. The Winchesters were to remain mystery for her and maybe it was better this way. She sometimes thought of them, irrational thoughts that would spring to her mind uninvited. She might’ve left them then, behind that old wooden door, but she doubted they would ever leave her.
A/N4: Feedback is made of sunshine and delicious candy. So that you know.