This fic is for @representation-week hosted by @specialagentrin and @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover
Also read this fic on Ao3
The road is dark and stretches out in front of Dean. Sam is quiet as he reads a book on his phone, his head bobbing to the music that Dean is playing at, what Sam would call, a reasonable volume. Dean drums his hands on the wheel and sings along. It’s not good and it will never get better, but who’s he trying to impress?
The case they just wrapped up was an easy one. One that literally took a whole two days to complete. A werewolf had moved in on a small-town high school and got too greedy to cover his kills. Dean had actually expected to be there longer, but the case had wrapped itself up with a bow.
Dean’s phone starts ringing. Sam looks up from his phone and over at him as Dean fumbles in his pocket.
“Agent Young?” Jake, the teenaged survivor from the werewolf attack answers. Dean’s stomach drops. He’d given the kid a card with his number in case he found the werewolf again before Sam and Dean had a chance to kill it. They’d killed the monster, but Jake was calling.
“Are you okay?” Dean asks, his eyes already darting to checking for a place to turn around or make a quick exit.
“I need help.” There are no other cars on the road. Dean spins the wheel, turning the car all the way around and speeding down back the way he came.
“Text me where you are. I’m on my way, okay?”
“I’m hurt,” Jake says, his voice small.
“I’m going to help you. Just tell me where you are and hang in there, okay?”
“Okay.” He hangs up and Dean tosses his phone to Sam.
“What’s going on?” Sam finally asks, waiting for Jake’s text.
“I don’t know. Another werewolf? Was there more than one?”
“Remember that kid? The one in the hospital when we got here? He just called and said he needs help.” Dean presses harder into the gas pedal.
Sam and Dean had rolled into town for a werewolf attack. There was a body found that looked like “a wild animal attack” except for the fact that the heart was missing. When they’d arrived at the hospital to see the vic, there was a kid that caught Dean’s eye. He was covered in bruises and bandages and telling the nurse that she wouldn’t believe him if he told her what happened.
“You go,” Dean told Sam who nodded. Dean tapped on the door and the nurse looked up. “Hi. Agent Young. I need to ask him a few questions to follow up on a report if that’s alright.”
“Of course,” she said after glancing at the badge in his hand.
The kid eyed him warily. He was somewhere around sixteen with glasses in front of his brown eyes. His messy brown hair reminded Dean of Sam when he was that age. He sat down in the chair next to the bed and he stuffed his badge back into his coat.
“Know why I’m here?” Dean asked. The kid shook his head, his lips pressed together in a firm line. “There’ve been some attacks in the area. I think you know something about them.” The kid looked down and back up quickly. “What’s your name?”
“Jake,” he answered after a moment.
“Alright, Jake,” Dean nodded. “How’d you break your wrist and ribs?”
“No one would believe me,” Jake said adamantly. His eyes were filled with tears that he wouldn’t cry and Dean felt for him. He’d obviously seen something.
“Try me. You’d be surprised at the strange things I’ve heard and seen.”
“Really?” Dean nodded and Jake swallowed hard. “It was a monster,” he whispered. “It had big claws and sharp teeth. It was strong and fast. I don’t know how I got away.”
Werewolf , Dean silently confirmed. “I believe you. My partner and I will find it. If you see it before we do, can you call me?” He had taken out his card with his cell phone number.
“Yeah,” Jake promised, taking it.
“No,” Jake laughed a little, wincing at the pain.
“Scratches?” Dean asked, a small smile tugging at his lips seeing that the kid still has a sense of humor even though the questions were serious.
“No. Get outta here, man.” Jake waved him off, keeping the card in his hand.
“Alright. I’m goin’.” Dean left the room and sighed inwardly. It’s hard when innocent people are involved. It’s worse when it’s kids. They know what they saw and they know how messed up it is, but they can’t tell anyone. Adults don’t believe their own eyes, spinning a safety net of lies for themselves and everyone else. Teenagers are told by everyone older than them that they didn’t see anything like that. They just have an active imagination. They should stop lying to get attention. It would be easier if they were lying. Then they wouldn’t have to be traumatized by the things that go bump in the night and suffer silently.
The second time Dean had run into Jake was the following morning at the high school. The attack had taken place at the high school and Sam had narrowed down his theories to the attacker being a faculty member. The first bell hadn’t wrung yet and Jake was out in front of the school, sitting on a bench with the black cast on his wrist already shining with three silver signatures. If only silver sharpie worked against werewolves.
“What’re you doing here?” Jake asked when Dean had taken the empty seat beside him. Sam had headed into the main office to explain their visit.
“Nice to see you too,” Dean said. “Working. Going to talk to some of the teachers, see if they know anything. Any ideas on who we should start with?”
“I don’t know who you should start with, but the teachers don’t know shit,” Jake said with a shrug.
“Why are you even back at school right now?” Dean asked. “Shouldn’t you be at home, soaking up the sick time while you watch daytime soaps and nap?”
Jake looked down and shrugged. “I’m fine,” he mumbled. Dean didn’t believe him. How could he? He’s been there and he says those words all the time. He rarely means them.
Sam had motioned for Dean to join him, their investigation ready to begin. Dean nodded to Sam and stood up, turning to Jake. “I have to go to work.”
“Wait.” Jake pulled his backpack onto his lap and rummaged around until he pulled out a sharpie. “Wanna sign it?”
“Uh, sure.” Dean took the pen and fought himself over how to sign his name. He almost always signed D.W. He couldn’t do that today. Sure, he signed his fake names on the official papers when lying to the government, but this was different. He signed it, Dean .
“Thanks,” Jake smiled, taking his pen back.
When Sam and Dean had shown up to the school after hours to gank the history teacher, Jake had still been there. School had let out hours ago, but he was sitting at the bus stop, a book propped open on his lap.
Dean hadn’t crossed the street to say hi or ask him what he was doing there. They had a teacher to apprehend. By the time the fight went down, Jake had been picked up by the city bus and was probably, hopefully, on his way home.
“Or the teacher had a partner,” Dean says out loud as he looks for the right street to turn down to find Jake.
“Or he’s also a werewolf,” Sam offered unhelpfully. “Maybe it’s a trap. Did you check him?”
“Of course I checked him, ” Dean lies. He turns and sees Jake. He’s sitting on the ground, his back leaning against the side of a closed convenience store. “Lookout,” Dean orders Sam as he gets out of the car and goes to Jake.
“You came,” Jake says. His face is covered in blood, his eye bruised and puffing up.
“What happened?” Dean asks as he kneels in front of him. “Where else are you hurt?”
“I lied,” the kid says, his voice shaking. Dean freezes but he doesn’t answer, waiting for the rest. “I’m sorry I lied.” Tears start rolling down his face, mixing with the blood.
“Hey. It’s okay. Just tell me what happened.”
“There’s no monster,” Jake confesses. “There’s a lot of monsters in the books I read. I like horror sci-fi. The world is better in the books. It’s safer, you know?” He wraps his arms around himself protectively, not bothering to wipe the tears from his face as the quiet crying turns into gulping sobs.
Dean doesn’t know what to do. Sam is far enough away that he can’t hear the conversation and Dean shoots him a warning look to not come over. This feels private.
“Who did this?” Dean asks gently.
“My dad,” he says finally. It’s a punch in the gut. Protective rage wars with childhood memories in Dean as he clenches his jaw. “I didn’t think he would hate me. I didn’t think he could hate me. But then… I told him I’m… I’m bi.” He winces and looks at Dean as if looking for the same reaction from Dean as his father had given him.
“Come here,” Dean says, opening his arms. Jake immediately curls into him, sobbing into Dean’s chest as he allows himself to be hugged.
“H-he threw me down the stairs and… kicked me at the bottom before he took me to the h-hospital,” Jake says and Dean holds him tighter. “I came home today and he… he just kept punching. H-he said I’m sick. That he’s going to do this every day until I’m f-fixed.”
“Listen to me. There is nothing to fix,” Dean says. “I’ll get you out of there,” he promises. Neither of them says anything as Jake lets himself cry and calm down. Sam looks over and Dean gives a small nod. He’s got this. Sam nods back and gets back in the car.
“What if I am?” Jake whispers once he’s taken a few deep breaths.
“You’re not.” Dean hesitates, his eyes going to the stars above them before he asks, “Am I?”
Jake pulls away a little, wincing, his eyebrows drawn together as he looks up at Dean. Dean looks back, looking past the deep cut in his lip, the black eye, and the other cuts and bruises all over his face. “What?”
“My dad was like yours, and I believed him for a while. I thought I was sick. I thought I was broken. He made sure I thought no one could love me.” Dean clears his throat. “I’m not sick. And I’m not broken. I am bi.” It lingers in the air for a moment. He’s never said it before, though he’d come to terms with it ages ago. And here’s this kid who was as beaten down as he once had been.
“So,” Dean sighs. He looks over at Jake. “I think we should take you to the hospital and figure out where you can go from there.”
“Yeah,” Jake agrees, nodding a little as he wipes his face with his sleeves. “How?” he asks, skepticism shadowing his face suddenly.
“I can take care of the paperwork and the cost,” Dean says. “I just need to know who will take you in. Relative? Family friend? Friend? Once that’s figured out, my brother Sam and I will help you get your things and make sure you’re safe.”
“Yeah.” It’s just forged documents and expedited because he doesn’t have to answer to the government, but he and Sam have done this before. Even if Dean has to take Jake in himself, he will never allow his father to touch him again.
Dean stands and helps Jake up carefully. He gets into the back of the car, sitting right behind Dean.
“This is my brother, Sam,” Dean says, turning in his seat. “Jake,” Dean says to Sam. “Relocating him after going to the hospital. I think he needs stitches.”
“Hi, Jake,” Sam says. Jake nods but keeps his face mostly turned toward the window to hide most of the damage. “What happened?” Sam asks Dean.
Dean shakes his head. His lips are sealed. It’s not his place to say. “Do you have a list of who you think you could go to?” Dean asks instead, glancing up into the rearview mirror as he drives.
Dean has never been asked to stay with someone else while they were helped at the hospital. He’d never stood beside someone as their cuts were sutured together, his hand being used for comfort. Jake grabs his hand when he sees the needle. Sam stays outside, calling the people on Jake’s very short list to find him a new place to live and putting out an arrest warrant for the abuser as Dean remains at Jake’s side.
They successfully got Jake out of that house and into the loving home of an aunt on his mom’s side. They drove Jake there, Dean unwilling to take this kid out of a bad situation and into an equally horrible one.
His aunt is short and has the same olive skin as her nephew. Her dress is long and flowy and her hair is held back in a loose ponytail. She’s sweet and welcomes her nephew with open arms, briefly shaking hands with Sam and Dean as she steps aside for them to enter her living room.
They all sit down in the living room. Jake sits next to Dean on the couch while the aunt and Sam each take an armchair. Before anything else, Jake makes it clear that he has to tell her the truth before he can stay with her.
His shoulders tense as he defends himself against possible rejection and he breathes for a moment. “The reason I can’t stay with Dad is because I’m bi.” He swallows hard and looks at her. “Dad did this to me because I’m bisexual.”
She lets out a gasp, covering her mouth. Her eyes shine with horror-filled tears and she stands up to go to her nephew. He stands and hugs her. Dean can hear her whispering her promises that he’s safe now. He’s safe.
Sam and Dean give her the proper papers and Sam brings in the suitcases with Jake’s things from the car. It’s a short visit. Just long enough to make sure he’s going to be alright.
“Alright,” Dean says when all’s said and done. “If you need anything, you have my number. Be safe, kid.”
“Wait!” Jake calls when Dean makes it outside. Dean turns around and waits for Jake to catch up. “That’s it? That’s goodbye?”
“How do you want to say goodbye?” Dean asks. Jake hugs him tightly and Dean hugs back.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice muffled by Dean’s shoulder. “For everything.”
“I mean it. You have my number. If you need it, use it.” The voice Dean uses can only be described as a dad voice, though he’s never really used it.
Jake takes a step back and stays there, waving with his good arm as Dean drives away.
“I thought the case was over days ago,” Cas says when Sam and Dean arrive back home at the bunker.
“Yeah, me too,” Dean says.
“Dean has a soft spot,” Sam answers. “Just be glad we didn’t come home with a teenager.”
“He was in trouble. I had to get him out of there,” Dean defends himself, unpacking the ammo bag in the armory.
“Is he safe now?” Cas asks. Dean looks up and realizes they’re alone in the armory together. His eyes connect with Cas’ and he can’t look away. He never can.
“He’s safe,” Dean nods. “He came out to his dad,” Dean sighs. “His dad is a lot like mine, only his dad doesn’t hunt.”
“Are you okay?” Cas asks.
“I’m glad it was me. I’m glad I could help him, but it hurt. It hurt to see it the other way around. I was that kid. The one with the bloody face and the abusive father. I was the one brushing it off and hoping he would hate me less as time went on.” Dean shrugs. “I’m glad it was me.”
Cas wraps his arms around Dean and presses a kiss to his cheek, another to the corner of his mouth, and a final one on his lips. Dean leans into his boyfriend, their foreheads pressed together. “I’m glad it was you, too. You saved him. You saved you.”
