John tells her Dean and Sam sleep through the night now. He still doesn’t sleep though. So after the kids are put to bed, they sit. She teaches until her knowledge runs out, which isn’t very long after they start.

It’s a new thing for her. Most people come and they leave all in the same day, sometime the same hour. They just want to talk to a loved one that has passed on. They just want to hear they were loved or say sorry. Occasionally there’s someone who says There’s something in my house. Could you come?

Most of the time there’s nothing that requires her to dig deep and worry if she’s doing the right thing.

She remembers Mary’s words (Mary says to take care of the boys, give them the life you two talked about.) They nag at her but she tells herself, she’s not telling him how to hunt, just telling him what’s out there.

People talk. Lawrence isn't a small town but it feels that way sometimes. She hears the whispers. This isn’t anything out of the ordinary. There’s always been a constant whirl of gossip around her and her family. Her sister may look like her mother spit her out but Missouri got her gift.

These are new ones though. 

She's got that man living in there with her. A white man at that. Probably taking care of those kids like some nanny. 

Not just any man. John Winchester.

Her mama would never have allowed that. 

Yes, her mama would have. She believed in helping those in need. Whatever it took. However long it took. They’ve forgotten. It’s been going on seventeen years since her mother was alive.

It’s just no one ever needed her mama like the Winchesters need her. No one except her own flesh and blood.

She meant for it to happen, for them to stay as long as they need to. She made her intentions clear every time she could until she had to say John Winchester you are not taking those boys anywhere. It seemed like the right thing to do. It still seems that way. She saw how John was floundering, so unsure. It was unsettling. She knows he doesn't have any family left, only friends Mike and Kate. But he couldn’t stay with them anymore. He had to leave because They didn’t understand. They looked at me like I was crazy when I even tried to tell them what I thought. Mike told me I had to get back to work. How can I even think about work? He couldn’t take it anymore so he just picked up and left in the middle of the night. He left a note telling Mike he could have his half of the shop.

“I’ll earn our keep. I mean I’ll start.”

“Damn, right you will,” she told him, not at all worried about such a thing. He smiled and it shocked her a little.

His smiles have that effect on her because they’re a new thing, a rare thing. The smile wasn’t huge, didn’t make his dimples dig deep into his freshly shaven face.

She knows it’s time doing that but she’d like to think she’s got a little something to do with it.

They need her and she's got plenty to give. 

 

Sammy’s first word is ‘Dean’ and she’s the only one around to hear it. She cries – she can’t help it – and calls John down at the shop. Water under the bridge Mike said. She apologizes more than once when he panics and thinks the worse.

“I said I was sorry. I didn’t mean to get you all worked up,” she huffs.

“Missouri-”

“Focus on what’s important here. Sammy said his first word.” She balances him on her hip. “Say ‘Dean’ Sammy. Say ‘Dean’ to Daddy.” Sammy doesn’t say it, just gurgles and smiles at her.

She almost doesn’t notice the way John’s breathing changes. “I gotta go.” The dial tone is too loud in her ear and she scolds herself for being so insensitive.

Dean is of course excited and proud. He watches Sammy closely, more than normal, just waiting for him to say it. He says it when Dean comes in from school, then again sometime later. Then he clams up, content to play with his toys.

“He won’t say it again,” Dean tells her, pouting as he kneels on the kitchen floor, Sammy close by.

“He will. Give him some time.”

She watches him turn back to his brother. She thinks about how she’d said the same thing to John. Dean talks a lot now. He finally feels safe.

She doesn’t even think about it. She just wants to make Dean happy. He’s real excited making the card and helping her in the kitchen. It’s the most excited he’s been in a while. Every other holiday has passed by like they are any day of the week. She’d been nervous when Mother’s Day had rolled around. John said nothing and Dean followed his lead.

“You think he’ll like it?” He kneels on the chair next to her with his homemade card in his hands.

 

She looks into bright green eyes and smiles. “Of course, baby.”

She stands in the doorway of his room while Dean yells ‘Happy Father’s Day’ and then jumps into John’s bed.

“Deano!”

Dean giggles and squeals as John tickles him. She won’t lie about how her heart swells a little and then squeezes when John finally notices her. His face changes, a flash of this and that in his eyes.

“Dean wanted to make you breakfast.” She feels foolish as she says it.

He keeps the same expression on his face as she approaches and sets the tray down.

“Imma get Sammy,” Dean says, already scrambling to get off the bed.

She tells Dean to stay and she gets Sammy. She lays him between John and Dean. She then leaves, knowing she’s just done something wrong.

The rest of the morning she leaves them be. When they eat lunch, the look is gone but she knows he’s still trying to deal with Mary not being here. It’s only when they’re alone later in the day, passing in the hallway, that he tells her.

“You…I just remembered Father’s Day. Last year.” He looks like he’s the one that did something wrong.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think,” she tells him. “No need for you to look that way. I mean I should’ve known.”

“Thanks,” he tells her before walking away, disappearing into his room.

She remembers what it was like for her dad, how it had taken him quite awhile to move on.

Dean’s just about six when she thinks he might learn about her gift. The real reason people are always stopping by, not just because I’m a really good listener. Like most kids, he’d taken to telling little fibs. And like most adults, she was trying to break him of the habit.

It’s not like it’s a secret. Most everyone in town knows. And if they don’t, they’re either new or they aren’t paying attention.

“Dean you know you have to tell the truth. I’ll know if you don’t.” She sits in the kitchen, him standing before her with his hands behind his back. He looks at her, a faint blush to his cheeks.

“How?” he asks, big green eyes looking right into her own.

“I have my ways. How do you think I know so much about what you and Sammy get into?”

“Because you’re a mommy and mommies know a lot.”

She smiles; sure her smile is too big for her face. He smiles back knowing he’s made her happy. “I’m not a mommy though. I’m like a mommy.”

“Yeah, because my mommy isn’t here anymore.” His voice gets softer with every word. She pulls him into her lap, lets him rest his head over her heart.

“She loved you very much. You and Sammy. If she could be here, she’d be here.” She hugs him close, tries to keep her voice from catching.

He looks up, “But what about you?”

She lies, knows what a hypocrite that makes her. “I’d be around. A friend of your mommy’s.”

“Yeah?” he says.

“Yeah. Promise.”

He lays his head back down and they sit in silence until he slides off her lap running to greet John, the reason why she’d wanted to talk to him forgotten for now.

“You, okay?”

He startles her. It still unnerves how quiet a big man like he can be. She supposes he learned it in the Marines. She supposes it’s not something he can just drop however many years later.

She stretches, feels the muscles in her back pull. “I’m okay. Just a little stiff.”

He leans against the kitchen doorframe, arms across his chest. He looks at her and she looks back until she has to turn away, goes back to her pots on the stove.

“I’m leaving for a few days,” he tells her.

“Leaving? For where? Why?” She doesn’t look up.

“Pennsylvania. I just have something to take care of. Nothing to worry about.”

“You know people there?”

“No.”

“Then why are you going?”

When he doesn’t answer right away, she turns, wiping her hands on the closest dish towel.

“It’s not like you don’t know."

“You shouldn’t do this. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

He pushes of the wall. “You don’t know all that I know.”

“I know enough.” She knows he’s been doing things on his own, taken all that’s she taught him to learn more, do more. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

He pushes off the wall and walks toward her as he says, “Mike and Kate would love to see the boys. I can take them there and then when I get back, I’ll get a place.”

She meets him halfway. “Are you threatening me?” Hands on hips, she laughs, a bitter edge to it.

He laughs, too, sounding as bitter as she does. “I have to do what I have to do with or without your help.”

“So now you don’t need my help?”

“Missouri,” he starts, takes a deep breath. “You know that’s…”

She stops him with “I know.” She drops her hands from her hips in defeat, lets out a breath. She’s still angry though, her words clipped. “We’ll talk when you back. You can’t keep these kind of secrets.”

“As if I really could,” he tells her.

She shakes her head. “Still. Just take care of yourself.”

She hears him leave in the early morning hours – the creak of his door opening and closing, then Sam and Dean’s.

Four days later without a word, he comes in, arm in a sling but a smile on his face. He picks Dean up with his one good arm, kisses Sammy on the head when she presents him.

“Sorry,” he says – for getting hurt, for not calling – and she knows he means it.

She blinks to hold back the tears. “Hungry?”

They have ground rules. He's to work in the basement, keep all his stuff from young eyes and hands. He can’t get so caught up that he forgets them. Everybody eats at the same time. Stuff like that. She's to help him, not replace him when it comes to the boys. You’re their father and they need you more than they need me.

You’d think having been in the military he would have no problem following orders. Most of the time he’s good. Sometimes he forgets. She knows he loves his boys. It’s just that sometimes he's just blind to anything else but what he wants. She’s mostly the victor when they have those arguments. He's stubborn but so is she. And he knows she loves them boys almost as much as he does.

They get a routine down. He hunts close to home, nothing more than a couple days drive away. He's never gone more than four unless he gets really hurt. He doesn’t work a regular job to earn his keep like he’d promised since it’d be kind of hard to justify the no-shows and injuries.

Nothing illegal. I promise.

I’d believe you even if I couldn’t read your mind.

When John’s home, he takes Dean to school and picks him up after. The time after lunch is his and Sammy's time. He's not allowed back in the basement until he spends some time with him. More often than not, she finds them sleeping on the sofa. John's feet always hanging off, one hand secure on Sam, who rises and falls with his breathing. 

It works for about five years. Then he thinks he’s on to something, something that might explain how his life got so turned around. They argue and she loses. For the first time she's a little scared of him. He's so intense, so fired up, so ready, so full of anger that she acquiesces before the tension in the air becomes permanent. 

He’s gone for weeks, which turn into months. They’d told the boys John is like a private investigator. That he tracks down bad people and sometimes he gets hurt and sometimes it takes a long time.

This guy your daddy’s after is a tough one. Your daddy’s got to get him before he hurts some more people. Trust me. He’d rather be here with us than out there.

They know he’s still alive when they get phone calls, early in the morning, in the middle of the night. Whenever he can, remembers to call. Sometimes there’s so much static on the line conversations are no more than I’m fine. Missing the boys. Be good for Missouri.

Randomly a postcard might arrive in the mail. They surprise her every time. Always from some town she’s never heard of and probably couldn’t find on a map. Never a message, just ‘JW’ signed in the middle.

Even without a message, it strikes her as sentimental and not the face he puts on most of the time.

When he comes back, he wants to tell Dean. It’s the first thing out his mouth the minute they’re alone, which doesn’t last long so the conversation is tabled till later. So she has time to think about waiting. She's not sure when but later. She wants him to be a child a little longer. He’s already growing up so fast.

Later is when the boys have been put to bed and they sit on the back porch, another muggy evening in September, the very definition of Indian summer.

“John, I don't need protecting,” her exasperation evident. They’ve been going back and forth for what seems like a very long time.
 
“We all do.” She can feel his eyes on her so she only looks straight forward.

She tries a different tact. “What about Mary?”

“What about her?” Anger that wasn’t there a second ago lacing his words.

She looks at him this time. “Do you think this is what she would’ve wanted?” They both know it’s not.

“I’m their father," he declares as if she doesn’t know that.

She wants to say "Exactly!" Maybe she should argue with him about this – let it be a knock down drag out fight since they’re still kids. It’s not like they’re going to be hunters. If he does what he says he’s going to do – get the thing that killed Mary – then there’s no need. But it’s not like she thinks they shouldn’t know what’s out there. She just believes there’s plenty of time for them to learn about it.

She doesn’t argue though. She goes inside needing more time to think about what could change his mind. He follows, calling her name. She turns and steps into his personal space, taking one of his hands in hers. She has to look up while he looks down. “Just think about waiting a little longer, please? Think about all you’ve seen and done, okay? That’s all I’m asking.”

She leaves as quickly as possible. She doesn’t want to know if won’t do it. She’s glad that she takes both boys to church on Sundays. She wasn’t sure when this day would come but whenever it did, she wanted them to know the good as well as the bad.

He makes it two weeks past Dean’s twelfth birthday. She’s thankful for that even if she might’ve waited longer.

They’re back to sitting on the back porch but this time Dean is between them. She can’t read his face because Dean’s not looking at either one of them. He finds out her about her gift then, too.

He doesn’t know what to think. A hundred different ideas in his head. She has to smile at one. Sammy says Mrs. Kasick is a witch. She probably is.

The information changes him as she knew it would. He’s of course confused, scared, sad and determined. Determined to be the protective older brother because of what’s out there; the good boy because he knows she’ll know everything he does. He tells himself he’ll make sure Sammy’s a good boy, too.

She has to laugh to herself. Sure, she can read minds but she works around it for she knows how intrusive it is, how much trouble it can cause she when knows stuff that’s none of her business. She doesn’t tell him that though. She figures he’ll wait until he’s a little older.

“John Winchester where are you going with that?” She looks at the gun in his hand.

“Dean said there's something in his closet.”

She can’t help the smile in her voice when she tells him, “You are a damn fool sometimes. Give me that.” 

He holds it just out of reach. “It’s not like I can tell him ‘Don’t be afraid of the dark.”

“First, I think one would know if there was something in his closet. Second, I know you can’t tell him that but this isn’t the answer either.” She walks past him on the stairs. “Just follow my lead.” As they make their way to Sam and Dean’s room, she’s really thankful Sammy is over at a friend’s house because try explaining that to an eight year old. And she’s thankful Smitty sent them her way because the Lord only knows where they would be now.

“Deano's a natural.” John smiles proud and happy. Real happiness, the bone deep kind.

Dean loves the training. He rattles off this, that and the other to her. He talks non-stop about it, his level of anticipation for his first hunt sky high. He's never this excited about school. He's smart, does well but he could do better. Just one of those kids whose strength doesn't rely on books but the world. 

He has to bring home B's though. She doesn't accept less and John backs her up. C's mean no pie and no training. 

Sam's the opposite. He loves school, always willing to share what he’s learned in school. What he doesn’t know about what he’s learned, he asks questions. It seems like he’s always asking questions about anything and everything.

Sammy, one second. I have a headache.

Why?

He pouts when he can't go along with John and Dean the first time Dean goes out. John agreeing with her that he has to be at least the age Dean was when he was told the truth about what’s out there. 

Sam doesn’t say goodbye but he watches from her bedroom window as John and Dean pull off. She leaves him alone, lets him stew even during dinner. He perks up when she gives him more ice cream than usual.

It’s easy to put him to bed, the ice cream and the extra hour having done him in. An hour later, unexpectedly he’s knocking on her door, sticking his head in her room.

She’s already in bed, head wrapped up and book in her lap. She pats the empty space next to her. He smiles and runs, jumps in, scrambles to get under the covers.

He looks at her seriously, hair falling into his eyes. The boy needs a haircut but try telling him that. He hates getting haircut for no other reason than he likes his hair the way it is.

It doesn’t bother you when people think you’re a girl?

No. I know I’m not a girl.

How can you argue with that logic? So he doesn’t let her or John cut his hair as often as he should. It bugs John but he figures he’ll grow out of it eventually. She could care less either way. He’s too cute. Maybe when he gets older she’ll care.

“Dean and I sleep together.”

“I know.”

“All the time.”

“You’re not scared to sleep alone are you, Sammy?” He blushes. “It’s okay if you are.”

“Do you get scared?” He props himself up on one elbow.

“Of course. Everyone gets scared sometimes.”

“Then how come you don’t sleep with daddy?” The fact that she knew the question was coming still can’t stop the laugh that comes. Out of the mouth of babes indeed.

“Oh, baby. You should ask your daddy that when he gets back." She jokes but he, of course, takes her seriously.

“Okay.”

“No, no. I was kidding," she tells him, thinking, ‘the poor man would probably have a heart attack’. “I’m a grown up. I can take care of myself but your daddy’s close by if I need help.”

He opens his mouth to speak but a yawn escapes instead.

“Sleepyhead.”

“’m not tired.”

“Sure," she says pulling him close.

By the time John and Dean come back, Sam’s forgotten how mad he was at being left behind. They hadn’t lied exactly. They went hunting just like they said. Only it wasn’t deer but a ghost said to be haunting some dance studio in Topeka.

They even brought home enough deer meat to really sell the story.

Dean’s got a small cut above his left eye and looks like he could use some sleep. By the time she puts him to bed, she knows he’s fine, only a couple of bumps and bruises hidden under his clothes. He’s gotten hurt worse just by playing around in the backyard.

He was quiet most of the night, not the least bit interested in answering the questions Sammy peppered him with before he gave up.

He lies in bed looking up at her as she sits sideways on the bed while Sam sleeps across the room.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” He nods. “So if you were scared and don’t want to do it again, it’s okay.”

He doesn’t want to talk about it. How terrified he was. How he froze up. How when he unfroze he tripped and got that cut. How John was pissed and yelled at him. He apologized later but the damage had already been done.

“And don’t you worry about your daddy. I’ll take care of him.” She smiles but he doesn’t. “Alright now, you get some sleep.” She kisses his forehead. By the time she leaves, his eyes are already closed.

He doesn’t talk about it and he doesn’t go out with John again for another few months. It’s still tough going for him but he presses on until he’s as comfortable as he’s going to get at that age.

John doesn’t push, thinking that’s enough for Dean. She explains You’ll going to have to forbid that boy not to go. He doesn’t of course, which of course makes her wish she is more than she is.

“You’re not their mother.”

His words cut deep, deeper than he meant, deeper than she thought they could because she knows that. She just doesn’t need it thrown up in her face like this. Just because he doesn’t know what else to say and thinks this is going to shut her up. He knows her better than that. Or at least he should.

They stand in the basement, away from prying eyes and open ears. Though if anything Sam and Dean are sitting on the other side of the basement door listening.

“Exactly. They wanted to know.”

“I’m their father.” It’s the only thing he can come up with at the moment.

“So I’ve heard. Sam wanted to know. What was I supposed to do? You don’t tell them anything. Nothing. They have a right to know.”

He steps a little closer, says through clenched teeth, “You don’t know anything about it.”

She steps closer, too. “Yeah, because you’re the only one that’s ever lost someone.”

“I didn’t say that. I wasn’t even thinking it,” he yells.

“Oh, yeah it’s not that you’ve lost someone. It’s that you’ve lost someone under horrific circumstances. Yes, John Winchester you are the only one.” Her tone is hard because she wants her words to hurt. He can be so selfish sometimes.

“Stop saying my whole fucking name.”

Glaring and chests heaving. It’s times like this when reading minds is a pretty good thing. She knows that the anger isn’t really all about her. That he’s even a little sorry.

Everyone knows how kids can be and Winchester isn’t a name that will ever really die in this town. The first time Dean came home with a bloody nose he was eight. He lied and told John some story about sticking up for some other kid. Dean told Missouri the truth. As if he really had a choice.

He told her how the kid said Mary burned up and it was John’s fault. He said that my daddy killed my mommy and my daddy wouldn’t do anything like that. He also told her he didn’t want to make his daddy sad so he lied. It was déjà vu when it happened to Sam. While Dean didn’t ask questions about why that kid said what he did, Sam asked. She had Dean there, had him tell Sam what he remembered.

I don’t remember a lot. It was really, really hot. Dad told me to run out the house with you so I did.

You did?

Yup.

She filled in a few more gaps, age appropriate information of course. And of course, nothing about Mary being a hunter. She confirmed that their daddy is good man.

It’s been their little secret. They talk every now and again about Mary. She reintroduces Sam to a woman he’ll never get to know. She reminds Dean when he thinks he’s forgotten her. It’s not like she knows much but it’s something. John doesn’t talk about Mary to her accept every now and again. Only when he seems to forget that he’s told himself to not do it. It happens when it doesn’t hurt as much. She won’t tell the boys what John thinks when she reads his mind. She would never do that. She tells him to talk to the boys about Mary but he says I can’t. More like won’t. She could call him on it but she never does.

She’s always hears the unspoken ‘You don’t do it either.’

She knows he’ll forgive her eventually. She believes everything happens for a reason even if she never ever learns what that reason is.