DA/SPN Fic: To Conceal a Fox (1/4)
Title: To Conceal a Fox, Chapter 1 (of 4)
Author: lori_leaf
Betas: nocturnal08, thevulgarvirgin
Genre: Gen (Wee!Chesters, Sam is 15, Dean is 19)
Summary: John only has two sons. So why is there a boy who looks just like Dean, only several years too young?
Author's Notes: The title is from the Spartan legand about the boy who hides a fox in his shirt, and is clawed to death. Children were supposed to admire him for his silence. The boy was a good soldier.
There is also child abuse in this chapter. The school where John is working undercover, is not a nice place. You've been warned. I've also adjusted the timelines, so the Manticore escapee's escaped when they were eight, not ten. The year is 2007.
John could hear the unmistakable sound of wood hitting flesh and he barely avoided wincing. The continuous cracking noise echoed in the hallway. The sharpness of the sound meant the teacher had opened his door to share the punishment with the world. John still couldn't believe how sadistic some of these fuckers were. It’s one thing to paddle a kid. It's a whole other to do it in front of the entire class. But then to open the door so anyone and everyone could witness the kid's humiliation... it was just cruel.
John's fingers twitched into a loose fist. He had to take a deep breath and remind himself that despite his paternal instincts, he had a job to do. He couldn't risk blowing his cover for one kid, when successfully completing his mission would mean the entire school was safe... from supernatural means anyway. He couldn’t protect these kids from the teachers or from each other. He wondered again what sort of parent puts their kids in this environment.
And, yeah, that was a little hypocritical considering he'd enrolled the boys. But at least he had the excuse of hunting down a soul sucking spirit. As soon as that was done, he and the boys were getting the hell out of this place. He couldn't ignore the sound of poor kid getting his ass handed to him. John suddenly had an terrifying thought; that kid could quite possibly be his Sammy or Dean. Fuckers wouldn't dare. Right? Shit. John rushed towards the sound.
He could see the open door as the crack of the paddle got louder. John paused, peering in the doorway. If he stood at an angle he could see into the room, but the students and the teacher wouldn't see him. The only one who might catch him looking would be the kid getting beaten.
He could see the kid stretched across the desk with his fingers clutching the other side. The kid's face was turned away from him. He was young. Maybe ten years old or so. Too young to be one of his boys. John felt guilty for the relief he felt at that. This boy had dark blond hair, shorn to a buzz cut. There was a smear of something on the back of his neck, but his white collared shirt covered most of it. John couldn't pinpoint what exactly the mark was. Probably just a bit of grease. The boy looked almost bored as he lay across the desk, his feet dangling a few inches off the floor. The crack of the paddle was unending. The boy's bottom had to be a mess of deep bruises by now. The kid's knuckles were white, but other then that he made no sound. He didn't even twitch as the teacher slammed the paddle into him. John doubted he could take a beating like that without showing some sort of reaction.
The sick fuck of a teacher finally got tired of beating the unresponsive student and threw the paddle onto the desk next to the boy with a clatter.
"I'm done with you. Go report to the Headmaster."
John recognized that voice. Mr. Walters was a bully. He intimidated the other teachers. He tried to intimidate John, but John didn't intimidate easy. He shouldn't have been surprised that Mr. Walters was the one punishing a boy far worse then any child could possibly deserve. And then send the kid to the Headmaster where he'll unquestionably be beaten again. John hated this goddamn school.
The boy turned his head towards the door for just a second.
John froze. Dean. The boy looked exactly like Dean Well... Dean from a few years ago.
Little Dean's eyes were squeezed shut, his lips were pressed together in a tight line, and his face was pale. He took a deep breath as he composed himself.
When he finally did speak, the boy's voice was smug, "Thank you sir. May I have another?"
The kid laughed, actually laughed as he pushed himself off the desk. "See ya around sexy!"
With a smirk and a saunter the boy who looked like his son exited the room, barely avoiding a collision with John.
The boy took a hasty step back as he examined John. He smirked, though his eyes were wary. "So you like to watch? Kinky."
Suddenly John realized why Mr. Walters was beating the hell out of this kid. He didn't even know him and he was already resisting the urge to strangle him. John reminded himself that the boy was probably just trying to hide his embarrassment at such a public punishment. He gently placed his hand on the kid's neck, ignoring the way the boy tensed under him.
"I know you're supposed to report to the Headmaster, but how about we get you cleaned up first? My name's Mr. Newman. I teach shop."
The boy shrugged. "Whatever, man."
John stiffened because the child even sounded like Dean. Not that his kid would ever backtalk him like that, but still... John ushered the kid into the nearest faculty restroom. He figured there would be less of a chance one of the kid's peers would barge in. School policy was very clear about students in faculty restrooms, and most kids didn't have the balls to risk a licking just to pee in the nicer bathrooms. It would give them a little privacy and John wanted to spare the kid any unnecessary embarrassment.
The kid immediately started washing his face. As he scrubbed, the mark on his neck became more noticeable. A barcode.
"Nice tat, kid."
The kid smirked, "I was in a gang."
Somehow John didn't doubt that. The boy had a feral edge to him that usually only developed as a result of never feeling safe. A gang explained that as well as any other excuse.
"What's your name, kid?" John couldn't keep calling him Little Dean in his head.
The boy had the audacity to roll his eyes. "Samuel Johns."
Samuel Johns. Just like his Sammy. The kid was walking around with Dean's face, and Sam's name. It made no sense. The boy had to be related to him. There was no other explanation for why he looked so much like Dean. But Mary had no siblings, and John only had brothers. Johns wasn't a family name, but still, this was a hell of a coincidence...
"Dude, what's up with you? You keep staring at me. I know I'm pretty, but take a picture, it'll last longer."
John laughed. "Okay, smart aleck. I'm beginning to see why your teacher was so eager to beat some manners into you. Not that I approve. The licks he handed out went above and beyond the call of duty."
Samuel's eyes narrowed as though he didn't expect to hear one teacher bad mouth another. As quickly as the look of confusion settled on his face, a blank look of disdain covered it. "Whatever."
John just shook his head. "Okay, how long did he whack at you for? I only heard the last few minutes."
The kid shrugged, "dunno. Forgot my stopwatch, I guess."
"Alright, here's what we're going to do. You're going to go into that stall there and take a look at the damage. You're then going to tell me how bad it is. If I think you’re trying to be a tough guy and lie about it, I'll take a look myself. I figure you're a big kid though. I can trust you not to lie to me." John's voice took on a challenging edge, "right?"
The kid raised his palms in surrender. "You're the boss."
He disappeared into the stall and John could hear the rustling of clothes. The kid reemerged a few minutes later, toeing at the linoleum with his shoe.
"It's pretty bruised. But I don't think it damaged the muscles underneath. It's nothing time, and maybe an ice bag won't heal." The boy's assessment of his own injuries seemed to be almost clinical. John didn't quite know what make of the kid.
"Here's what we're going to do. We're going to the Headmaster-"
The kid sucked in a breath, obviously upset by the prospect but trying not to show it. He was a tough little guy. That one little inhalation was the only sign of fear he gave. If John hadn't been paying attention, he'd never have even noticed it.
John quickly continued, "I don't want to give Walters an excuse to whack at you more. I'm going to talk to the Headmaster, and explain the extent of your injuries. I doubt he'll want to inflict any more damage. You might want to keep your smart mouth in check though."
The kid shrugged, and followed John as he stormed to the Headmaster's office. John put a hand on the boy's shoulder, "You stay here."
John knocked on the door before entering. Headmaster Mitchell was a big man. His head was bald and he constantly seemed to be sweating. It looked as though he wore his suit a size too small, judging by the way the button's strained to contain him. The Headmaster didn’t seem to be particularly pleased to see him, but didn't kick him out either.
John tried to be as polite as possible, "Good morning Headmaster."
The man simply grunted in response.
"I have a boy outside of your office. He was sent by Mr. Walters. The kid says his name is Samuel Johns."
The Headmaster brightened at that and visibly sat up in his seat. His enthusiasm made John nervous.
"Mr. Walters used excessive force in discipling Mr. Johns. I witnessed him paddling the boy for at least five minutes straight, and I only caught the tail end of the punishment. The boy is seriously bruised and I was concerned about the toll any other physical punishment might cause his body."
Mitchell simply beamed. "Your concern is noted Mr. Newman. I'll take the boy from here. You may leave."
John inhaled deeply. This didn't feel right. He was about to protest when he heard the boy enter, not meeting his eyes as he came into the room. John looked indecisively between the two, not wanting to leave the boy alone with a man who obviously didn't have his best interests at heart.
Mitchell's noted John's hesitation, "Newman. You'd be better off just focusing on your classes and your boys. Some things just don’t concern you."
The boy looked at John with Dean's green eyes. Samuel was nervous, but he wasn't asking for help. There was definitely something going on here. John wasn't going to win any Parent of the Year Awards, but he raised two boys on his own. He knew kids, and there was something strange about this one. It obviously wasn't the first time Samuel had been in this office, and Mitchell's glee at his arrival was very suspicious. Despite this, the kid looked calm, professional, and stoic. Samuel dismissed John with a nod.
"Mr. Newman. Close the door when you leave," the rotund man said shrilly.
The only reason John was able to go was Samuel's tiny nod of understanding, and the realization that he had a spirit to destroy. He couldn't fight human monsters until the supernatural ones were dead. If he got kicked out too soon, he wouldn't be able to save anyone.
Despite his misgivings, John shut the door behind him and walked away.
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three| Chapter Four
Author: lori_leaf
Betas: nocturnal08, thevulgarvirgin
Genre: Gen (Wee!Chesters, Sam is 15, Dean is 19)
Summary: John only has two sons. So why is there a boy who looks just like Dean, only several years too young?
Author's Notes: The title is from the Spartan legand about the boy who hides a fox in his shirt, and is clawed to death. Children were supposed to admire him for his silence. The boy was a good soldier.
There is also child abuse in this chapter. The school where John is working undercover, is not a nice place. You've been warned. I've also adjusted the timelines, so the Manticore escapee's escaped when they were eight, not ten. The year is 2007.
John could hear the unmistakable sound of wood hitting flesh and he barely avoided wincing. The continuous cracking noise echoed in the hallway. The sharpness of the sound meant the teacher had opened his door to share the punishment with the world. John still couldn't believe how sadistic some of these fuckers were. It’s one thing to paddle a kid. It's a whole other to do it in front of the entire class. But then to open the door so anyone and everyone could witness the kid's humiliation... it was just cruel.
John's fingers twitched into a loose fist. He had to take a deep breath and remind himself that despite his paternal instincts, he had a job to do. He couldn't risk blowing his cover for one kid, when successfully completing his mission would mean the entire school was safe... from supernatural means anyway. He couldn’t protect these kids from the teachers or from each other. He wondered again what sort of parent puts their kids in this environment.
And, yeah, that was a little hypocritical considering he'd enrolled the boys. But at least he had the excuse of hunting down a soul sucking spirit. As soon as that was done, he and the boys were getting the hell out of this place. He couldn't ignore the sound of poor kid getting his ass handed to him. John suddenly had an terrifying thought; that kid could quite possibly be his Sammy or Dean. Fuckers wouldn't dare. Right? Shit. John rushed towards the sound.
He could see the open door as the crack of the paddle got louder. John paused, peering in the doorway. If he stood at an angle he could see into the room, but the students and the teacher wouldn't see him. The only one who might catch him looking would be the kid getting beaten.
He could see the kid stretched across the desk with his fingers clutching the other side. The kid's face was turned away from him. He was young. Maybe ten years old or so. Too young to be one of his boys. John felt guilty for the relief he felt at that. This boy had dark blond hair, shorn to a buzz cut. There was a smear of something on the back of his neck, but his white collared shirt covered most of it. John couldn't pinpoint what exactly the mark was. Probably just a bit of grease. The boy looked almost bored as he lay across the desk, his feet dangling a few inches off the floor. The crack of the paddle was unending. The boy's bottom had to be a mess of deep bruises by now. The kid's knuckles were white, but other then that he made no sound. He didn't even twitch as the teacher slammed the paddle into him. John doubted he could take a beating like that without showing some sort of reaction.
The sick fuck of a teacher finally got tired of beating the unresponsive student and threw the paddle onto the desk next to the boy with a clatter.
"I'm done with you. Go report to the Headmaster."
John recognized that voice. Mr. Walters was a bully. He intimidated the other teachers. He tried to intimidate John, but John didn't intimidate easy. He shouldn't have been surprised that Mr. Walters was the one punishing a boy far worse then any child could possibly deserve. And then send the kid to the Headmaster where he'll unquestionably be beaten again. John hated this goddamn school.
The boy turned his head towards the door for just a second.
John froze. Dean. The boy looked exactly like Dean Well... Dean from a few years ago.
Little Dean's eyes were squeezed shut, his lips were pressed together in a tight line, and his face was pale. He took a deep breath as he composed himself.
When he finally did speak, the boy's voice was smug, "Thank you sir. May I have another?"
The kid laughed, actually laughed as he pushed himself off the desk. "See ya around sexy!"
With a smirk and a saunter the boy who looked like his son exited the room, barely avoiding a collision with John.
The boy took a hasty step back as he examined John. He smirked, though his eyes were wary. "So you like to watch? Kinky."
Suddenly John realized why Mr. Walters was beating the hell out of this kid. He didn't even know him and he was already resisting the urge to strangle him. John reminded himself that the boy was probably just trying to hide his embarrassment at such a public punishment. He gently placed his hand on the kid's neck, ignoring the way the boy tensed under him.
"I know you're supposed to report to the Headmaster, but how about we get you cleaned up first? My name's Mr. Newman. I teach shop."
The boy shrugged. "Whatever, man."
John stiffened because the child even sounded like Dean. Not that his kid would ever backtalk him like that, but still... John ushered the kid into the nearest faculty restroom. He figured there would be less of a chance one of the kid's peers would barge in. School policy was very clear about students in faculty restrooms, and most kids didn't have the balls to risk a licking just to pee in the nicer bathrooms. It would give them a little privacy and John wanted to spare the kid any unnecessary embarrassment.
The kid immediately started washing his face. As he scrubbed, the mark on his neck became more noticeable. A barcode.
"Nice tat, kid."
The kid smirked, "I was in a gang."
Somehow John didn't doubt that. The boy had a feral edge to him that usually only developed as a result of never feeling safe. A gang explained that as well as any other excuse.
"What's your name, kid?" John couldn't keep calling him Little Dean in his head.
The boy had the audacity to roll his eyes. "Samuel Johns."
Samuel Johns. Just like his Sammy. The kid was walking around with Dean's face, and Sam's name. It made no sense. The boy had to be related to him. There was no other explanation for why he looked so much like Dean. But Mary had no siblings, and John only had brothers. Johns wasn't a family name, but still, this was a hell of a coincidence...
"Dude, what's up with you? You keep staring at me. I know I'm pretty, but take a picture, it'll last longer."
John laughed. "Okay, smart aleck. I'm beginning to see why your teacher was so eager to beat some manners into you. Not that I approve. The licks he handed out went above and beyond the call of duty."
Samuel's eyes narrowed as though he didn't expect to hear one teacher bad mouth another. As quickly as the look of confusion settled on his face, a blank look of disdain covered it. "Whatever."
John just shook his head. "Okay, how long did he whack at you for? I only heard the last few minutes."
The kid shrugged, "dunno. Forgot my stopwatch, I guess."
"Alright, here's what we're going to do. You're going to go into that stall there and take a look at the damage. You're then going to tell me how bad it is. If I think you’re trying to be a tough guy and lie about it, I'll take a look myself. I figure you're a big kid though. I can trust you not to lie to me." John's voice took on a challenging edge, "right?"
The kid raised his palms in surrender. "You're the boss."
He disappeared into the stall and John could hear the rustling of clothes. The kid reemerged a few minutes later, toeing at the linoleum with his shoe.
"It's pretty bruised. But I don't think it damaged the muscles underneath. It's nothing time, and maybe an ice bag won't heal." The boy's assessment of his own injuries seemed to be almost clinical. John didn't quite know what make of the kid.
"Here's what we're going to do. We're going to the Headmaster-"
The kid sucked in a breath, obviously upset by the prospect but trying not to show it. He was a tough little guy. That one little inhalation was the only sign of fear he gave. If John hadn't been paying attention, he'd never have even noticed it.
John quickly continued, "I don't want to give Walters an excuse to whack at you more. I'm going to talk to the Headmaster, and explain the extent of your injuries. I doubt he'll want to inflict any more damage. You might want to keep your smart mouth in check though."
The kid shrugged, and followed John as he stormed to the Headmaster's office. John put a hand on the boy's shoulder, "You stay here."
John knocked on the door before entering. Headmaster Mitchell was a big man. His head was bald and he constantly seemed to be sweating. It looked as though he wore his suit a size too small, judging by the way the button's strained to contain him. The Headmaster didn’t seem to be particularly pleased to see him, but didn't kick him out either.
John tried to be as polite as possible, "Good morning Headmaster."
The man simply grunted in response.
"I have a boy outside of your office. He was sent by Mr. Walters. The kid says his name is Samuel Johns."
The Headmaster brightened at that and visibly sat up in his seat. His enthusiasm made John nervous.
"Mr. Walters used excessive force in discipling Mr. Johns. I witnessed him paddling the boy for at least five minutes straight, and I only caught the tail end of the punishment. The boy is seriously bruised and I was concerned about the toll any other physical punishment might cause his body."
Mitchell simply beamed. "Your concern is noted Mr. Newman. I'll take the boy from here. You may leave."
John inhaled deeply. This didn't feel right. He was about to protest when he heard the boy enter, not meeting his eyes as he came into the room. John looked indecisively between the two, not wanting to leave the boy alone with a man who obviously didn't have his best interests at heart.
Mitchell's noted John's hesitation, "Newman. You'd be better off just focusing on your classes and your boys. Some things just don’t concern you."
The boy looked at John with Dean's green eyes. Samuel was nervous, but he wasn't asking for help. There was definitely something going on here. John wasn't going to win any Parent of the Year Awards, but he raised two boys on his own. He knew kids, and there was something strange about this one. It obviously wasn't the first time Samuel had been in this office, and Mitchell's glee at his arrival was very suspicious. Despite this, the kid looked calm, professional, and stoic. Samuel dismissed John with a nod.
"Mr. Newman. Close the door when you leave," the rotund man said shrilly.
The only reason John was able to go was Samuel's tiny nod of understanding, and the realization that he had a spirit to destroy. He couldn't fight human monsters until the supernatural ones were dead. If he got kicked out too soon, he wouldn't be able to save anyone.
Despite his misgivings, John shut the door behind him and walked away.
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three| Chapter Four