Making Choices

Author’s Notes: Written for a Supernatural Crossover Big Bang. Last September I had an idea for a crossover of some kind. Then as I thought about Harry’s birthday, I realized it fell between Dean’s and Sam’s and then my muse wouldn’t let it go. I had to figure out how to get them together and it just ran from there. In January I joined an lj community ficfinishing I finished this then, thanks to the community and my first reader. I hope you enjoy reading this half as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Jan 24, 1979 – Dean
July 31, 1980 – Harry
May 2, 1983 – Sam

Early August 1990
Dean is 11 and a half
Harry has just turned 10
Sam is 7 just that May
It's choice - not chance - that determines your destiny. ~Jean Nidetch

The little boy never cried. Sam watched as the little boy’s family hurt him again and again, but he never cried. At least not that Sam saw. There was a large walrus kind of man that Sam thought might be the boy’s father and a super skinny bird-like woman who was always peering down her nose at everything. But Sam was most interested in the boy and his brother. The other boy had a name. Both the woman and the man used it, Duddy or something, but they always called the boy, boy.

Sam noticed him because he was cooped up in this stupid motel room with Dean, who wouldn’t let him do anything because Dad had left him in charge. Sam thought whatever Dad was doing had something to do with their mom’s death because Dean told him not to bug Dad when he got back. Which should be anytime, and that was why Sam was looking out the window. The main reason Dean made him leave Dad alone was “Mom stuff”, as he called it.

Sam was bored, sitting and watching for Dad, when he saw the little boy. He had noticed the whole family pull up a few days before. The man had been complaining about people driving on the wrong side of the road, which had caught Sam’s attention. Well, that and the accent that they talked in. Sam had pointed them out to Dean and told him they talked funny. Dean had hit him on the back of the head and told him that they were English. At Sam’s confused look, Dean had sarcastically said that they were from England, across the ocean.

Sam had been to the ocean once. The sand had burnt his feet and the water had smelled and there was no end to it. The ocean had scared him because up to that point he had always had a horizon, but the ocean looked like it went on forever.

Watching people was something that Sam did well. He watched facial expressions and the way people spoke to each other to get clues about what they would do. Dad had left them with a couple of people that Dean had later told him were crazy, but all Sam had known was that something would set them off. One time Sam coughed, and because he hadn’t been watching for it, he had ended up backhanded, told to cover his mouth and then chased out the door with a broom. Dean had ended up yelling at the guy and at Sam.

Dean stood up between them and told the guy that he would have to go through him to get to Sam and the guy had laughed and ruffled Dean’s short hair. Dean backed off and made it to Sam just as the guy went back in his house, the door swinging shut behind him. That was when Dean told him that the guy was crazy. Sam wondered sometimes if Dad was crazy but the one time he mentioned it, Dean jumped down his throat so he just kept that thought to himself anymore.

So Sam had taken to watching people so he could be prepared. But there was something about this family, something wrong. Sam had yet to see the little boy play but the bigger boy was running all over the place, poking sticks into things and then he kicked the boy as he ran past on the breezeway. Sam knew from experience that that hurt, like hell. The little boy only curled into himself holding onto his glasses that were too big for his face and the bigger boy called him a freak.

“Dean?” Sam called his brother.

“What?” Dean snapped and Sam wanted to sigh. Dean was always mad at him anymore.

“What’s a freak?” Sam asked.

“What?” Dean asked again, this time walking over to where Sam was sitting at the window.

“What’s a freak?”

“Why do you want to know?” Dean asked. Just then there was a huge wail that sounded throughout the courtyard of the motel.

Sam looked and the big boy was crying and the large man and the bird woman came out and comforted him. Sam knew what that was like because Dean would comfort him and he would quiet down. But this boy only cried louder and pointed at the small boy who was still curled up.

“Get in the room, you freak!” the large man yelled and the bird woman shushed him and looked around. Sam leaned back against Dean so that she wouldn’t see him looking out the window. Then they all went inside.

“It’s not a nice thing,” Dean answered his question.

Sam nodded. He had figured that much out himself. Then he heard the low rumble that was Daddy’s car and he slid out of the chair by the window and rushed to the door.

“Sam.” Dean’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Remember?”

Slumping away from the door, Sam moved back to his chair at the window. Dad needed to be left alone. Sam couldn’t tell him about how he found a baby bird on the ground but it was dead and he buried it or about the little boy or anything. Sam pouted.

“Come on, Sammy.” Dean poked him and Sam glared at him. Sam gave him a big fat fake grin, and then Dad walked in the door.

“Dad,” both Sam and Dean said.

“Boys.” John Winchester acknowledged them and, dropping his bag on the table in the tiny kitchen this place had, he dug in it. “Here.” He tossed a couple of toy cars to Dean who snatched them out of the air. “Share,” he said and, grabbing some clothes, he went into the bathroom.

Dean looked at both cars before taking the pickup and giving Sam the car. Sam started to whine and then Dean pointed out all the cool things about his car and Sam shut up. Dean was right. He had a really cool car; it was even the same color as Dad’s.

Later, after they had all eaten dinner, mac and cheese again, Sam was tucked into bed and Dad was reading him a story. He could feel his eyelids getting heavy but he fought to stay awake and listen to his dad. Then there was a whump. Sam’s eyes were wide as he sat up. Dean was standing in his night shorts and he looked ready to run. Sam’s heart began to beat faster.

“Dean, watch your brother and don’t break the salt lines,” Dad snapped at him as he pulled a shotgun from under his bed. Sam watched wide-eyed as he left the room.

“Is Dad a cop?” Sam asked Dean, who looked at him like he was crazy. “He had the gun.” Sam knew his Dad had guns, he had sat through target practice before, but he had never seen his father like he just had. He looked like one of those cops on TV when he ran out.

“No,” Dean said and then they heard another whump. Sam went to look out the window, careful not to touch the salt that lined the sill. There were flashes of green light and then the sound of the shotgun rang out. There were these people with robes and Sam wondered if there was a church around because the only people he had ever seen wear robes had been in a church.

Dean saw Dad first and he threw the door open. Dad was carrying something in his arms and he yelled at Dean to grab the bags and Sam. They had to go. Now. Sam knew that tone so he grabbed his bag from the end of the bed and Dean’s too, while Dean threw what groceries they had into a paper sack. After quickly checking the room, he picked up Dad’s clothes out of the bathroom and shoved them into his bag. All Sam could think was that everything was going to stink like Dad’s dirty clothes and then Dean was pulling him out the door. Sam was shoved in the back seat, and Dad’s bag was tossed practically on him. Sam yelped and Dad shot him a look that shut him up quick. Dean got in and they were gone.

A few miles down the road, Dad slowed down a little bit. “Is he okay?” Dad asked and Dean turned to look back at Sam.

“Fine,” Dean said.

“Not Sam, the other boy,” Dad told him. It was only then that Sam noticed a kid on the other side of the bags he had pushed in the car. It was the little boy, the one that big boy had kicked and the man had called a freak.

Dean looked back but it was dark and Sam could tell he could hardly see the boy. Sam reached over and touched him. The boy gave a small moan and then he tilted his head just as they passed an off ramp. The lights flicked through the car reflecting off of his glasses and Sam saw blood coming from his forehead. “He’s bleeding, Dad,” Sam said.

“How bad?” Dad glanced at Dean who was trying to crawl into the back seat to check on the boy.

Fishing the first aid kit from under the front seat, Dean found a clean cloth and held it to the boy’s head. He moaned and Dean jumped a little. Sam watched as the boy’s eyes flickered open. He looked at Dean in confusion and then started to fight him. At least that’s what Sam thought.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked him. Sam could tell he was scared because Sam had been scared a lot. “It’s okay. What’s your name? Mine’s Sam and that’s my big brother Dean and my Daddy’s driving but he helped you because that’s what he does, help people, Dean told me so.” Sam took a breath and the boy gave him a little smile.

“Harry,” the boy said and Sam wondered if he was telling Sam that he was hairy.

“Hi, Harry,” Dean said and then Sam knew that it was his name. “You’re bleeding. You want to put this on your forehead?”

Harry looked at Dean in surprise and then he put his hand up to his forehead, pulled back his fingers and looked at them. Sam could see that they were darker with blood. The boy, Harry, Sam reminded himself, took the cloth from Dean and pressed it against his forehead with a wince.

“Does it hurt?” Sam asked Harry after Dean had climbed back into the front seat.

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“But why don’t you cry?”

“Not allowed.”

“Oh,” Sam said. “Why not?”

“The Dursleys,” Harry said and then he choked with fear, Sam could tell. Sam’s eyes widened as he watched Harry push his fear away. “They’re gone. I’ve got no one,” Harry said quietly.

Sam patted his hand. “You’ve got us.”

Dean and Dad had been talking in the front seat. “Where are your parents?” Dad asked Harry.

Harry looked hurt and scared again. “D. . d. . dead,” Harry stuttered.

Sam looked at Harry sadly. His mom was dead, too. She had died when he was a baby and didn’t remember her. He squeezed Harry’s hand. “My mom’s dead, too,” he whispered, because he knew it made Dad sad when he talked about her.

“Who were those people?” Dad asked another question, his voice a bit gentler. Sam felt the rumble of the car trying to put him to sleep but he wanted to understand what was going on, too, so he pinched himself.

“The Dursleys?” Harry sounded as confused as Sam felt.

“Sure,” Dad replied.

“My aunt and uncle and my cousin Dudley. She’s my mom’s sister,” Harry said.

“Who were the other people?” Dad asked and Sam watched as Harry shifted in his seat. Sam could tell Harry was going to do something stupid like make up a story because he had that same look that Dean would get sometimes right before he made a really bad decision. Reaching out, Sam took Harry’s hand and, when the boy looked at him, he shook his head. Making things up was a bad idea.

Harry seemed to deflate. “I don’t know, sir.”

“Is there anyone I can call?” Dad asked.

“No, there’s no one.” Harry sounded sad so Sam dug in his bag until he found the car that Dad had given him. He held it out to Harry. Harry looked at the little thing as if wondering if he could pick it up.

“Here,” Sam said.

“Thank you,” Harry said quietly.

“He can stay with us, right Dad? What if those bad people want to hurt him? You are the bestest dad, I’m never scared when you’re here,” Sam said all in one breath.

“Sam, he’s not like a dog. We can’t keep him,” Dad said. “Let me think.”

Those three words shut Sam’s mouth. Sam knew if he argued with Dad after he told Sam to let him think, then the answer to whatever question Sam had would be no. So Sam smiled at Harry and showed him how to play with the car because he really didn’t seem to know how.

“Dad’s really smart,” Sam said. “He’ll think of what’s best.”

Harry nodded and ran the little car back and forth on his leg. Sam wondered if Dean ever felt scared. He looked up in the front and could just make out the shape of Dad and Dean. Dean seemed to know that Sam was looking at him because he turned his head and Sam watched as they passed a light outside. He looked worried but not scared.

“You should try to sleep, runt,” Dean said. Sam couldn’t help being smaller than him. Harry turned to look at Sam, who was making a face at Dean.

“Good idea,” Dad said from the front. “You should all try to sleep.”

Sam showed Harry how to make pillows out of his and Dean’s duffels. Sam and Dean were still in their night clothes but Harry had the same clothes on that he had on earlier, and Sam could smell smoke on them. Digging in his bag again, Sam found a t-shirt and offered it to Harry.

Harry shook his head and looked up at the back of Dad’s head.

“Come on,” Sam said quietly. “Your shirt is huge and it’s dirty.” Sam didn’t want to mention the smell. “Just try it. Dad won’t care.”

“Dad won’t care what?” Dad asked, never taking his eyes off the road.

“If Harry borrows one of my shirts. His is dirty. He can’t sleep in it.”

“Fine, just you boys rest now.”

Sam beamed at Harry and passed him the shirt. When he took the one he’d been wearing off, Sam shoved it in a plastic bag in his duffle. Harry looked worried. “I’ll keep it safe,” Sam said. “I promise.”

Satisfied, Harry nodded and then put Sam’s shirt on. Sam could see bruises from where the fat man had kicked him and older ones, too. Harry put his head down on Dean’s duffel, his feet towards the door, took his glasses off and put them in the back window. Sam laid down the same way so their heads were close to each other.

“My Dad doesn’t hit,” Sam whispered to Harry. Sam thought he saw something like fear in Harry’s eyes again before it was gone.

“All right,” Harry whispered back.

“Never,” Sam whispered, trying to reassure his new friend. “It’ll be okay.” Sam reached out and took Harry’s hand, noticing that they were nearly the same size. The hum of the car and the lack of sleep soon put both boys to sleep.

When Sam woke up they were parked and Dad was talking to Harry, very seriously. Sam spotted them out the window where they were sitting at a picnic table. They had stopped at a rest area and Dad was quizzing Harry, Sam could tell, and Harry shook his head and looked ready to cry. Seeing that Dean was still sleeping in the front seat, Sam tried to get out of the car quietly, not slamming the door shut. Dad looked over at him and pointed to the rest rooms.

Sam went to the bathroom and was washing up when Harry burst in. “I get to stay. Well, your dad said he was going to have some friends look into things but if everything I told him was true, I get to stay.” Harry was grinning and Sam grinned back.

It was almost like getting a new brother. Sam was very happy. “Good, I like you,” Sam said. “Even if you do talk funny.”

“I talk funny?” Harry asked.

“You sound funny and you say your words weird sometimes,” Sam said. “But that’s okay. Dean said it’s because you’re from England.”

“You sound funny to me, but that’s because you’re American and everyone here sounds funny to me. Maybe I should practice so I can sound more like you.”

Sam thought that this was a wonderful idea and offered to help. Sam and Harry made up a game. Every time Harry would say a word that Sam didn’t recognize, he got three guesses, and the same for Harry with Sam. Sam learned that garbage cans were called bins or dust bins and big trucks were called lorrys. Harry learned that jumpers were called sweaters and Sam learned that sneakers were called trainers.

Driving for a couple of days, Dad took them and Harry to see Uncle Bobby, who tested Harry. Harry told Sam that they put him in a circle and chanted at him in a foreign language and then smiled at him. Sam was happy because Harry liked Uncle Bobby just like he did.

Uncle Bobby liked Harry, too. Sam knew because he snuck downstairs after Harry was asleep in the bed they were sharing and he listened to Dad and Uncle Bobby talk.

“John, that boy’s been abused. He is so unused to anything good happening to him, he takes to the littlest praise as a flower turning to the sun. You could be good for him. Hell, compared to what he was living with, you’re a saint and that’s saying a whole lot. But, you need to be careful. He’s had a huge amount of sorrow in his life. He could be easily led. If you do this, you need to make sure the boy can think on his own, not just this blindly following orders thing that you try to do with your boys.” Bobby spoke low and Sam had to be very quiet to hear him.

“But, I . . .” Dad sounded like he was going to be mad.

“You got your reasons, I know. You also know I don’t approve of the way you drag those boys around. Dean is falling in just where you want him to, but if you’re not careful you’ll break him with too much responsibility. They’re children, John. Not soldiers in this war. One day they probably will be, but not now. Harry will be great for you and the boys. I’m just tellin’ ya to be careful.”

Dad gave a grunt and Sam heard him walking toward the door so he quietly went to go back upstairs. Dean was there, not too far behind him, and Sam hadn’t even known it. His eyes widened and Dean just gave him a crooked smile and they both scooted back upstairs before Dad or Bobby caught them.

A month later, Sam was at school in Manitowoc, Wisconsin. He started the third grade. He was supposed to be in second grade but in first grade he got moved up and Dad had all his records. Harry was in fifth grade. Dad had asked Harry how old he was and Sam had been surprised to hear that he was only one year younger than Dean, not Sam’s age like he thought. Harry was really small for his age and Dad and him had talked and decided that it might be better to try fifth grade and not sixth, which he was old enough for.

Dad and Uncle Bobby had come up with papers that said that Harry was their brother. Dean said adopted brother but that was the best kind, because they chose Harry. Not like Sam. Sam had gone after Dean trying to beat him up until Harry had asked him to stop. Dad sat down with them and talked about responsibility and a whole lot of other big words that Dean told him later meant they were supposed to love and watch out for each other. Well duh, that’s what Winchesters did.

Harry had gotten new glasses and Dad had been sad when Harry was grateful that he got to pick them out. Sam liked them, they suited his brother better than the other ones and the doctor had said the prescription was all wrong for him.

Sam and Harry were going to the elementary school while Dean attended the junior high. Getting out of class first, Dean walked to their school to meet them and then they walked home together. Dad was working at a local auto body place while doing his other stuff at night; sometimes leaving Dean to watch them, sometimes taking them all together for a day trip during the weekend.

Driving to this old building one Saturday, Dad got them all out of the car.

“Dean, what do you think?” Dad asked.

Dean sniffed. “It looks like an old school or church. Some of the kids at school talk about a haunted school in St. Nazianz. This might be it.”

“Sam?” Dad asked. This was a game they played regularly. Dad asking them what they thought about something. He always said first impressions were important.

“It’s creepy.”

“Why? Because of what Dean said?” Dad asked him.

Shaking his head, Sam looked up at the tall building. “Someone died. People sometimes come and play here and it makes them mad.”

“Makes who mad?”

“The lady, it makes the lady mad. She scares me. Can we go?”

“In a little bit. Harry, what do you think?”

Sam didn’t think it was fair to Harry since he had never played the ‘what do you think’ game before and Daddy didn’t explain it. His teacher, Mrs. Franz, said that you should explain what you want done first. Harry looked at Dad and then up at the building. He shivered. Sam watched as goosebumps spread all over his arms.

“I . . . I . . .” Harry stuttered and Sam reached out and caught Harry’s hand in his. Harry still stared at the building but his fingers tightened on Sam’s. “I think we should leave.”

“Okay,” Dad said. “Why?”

“She drowned them, all of them,” Harry said quietly. “Now she’s sad and crazy.” Harry turned from the building and looked at Daddy. “Can we go now, sir? Please?”

“Fine,” Dad said and put the car into drive. “You boys have been a big help.”

Harry looked at Sam and the other boy shrugged; he didn’t know what the whole thing was about. Getting home, Dad let Sam and Harry go outside and play. Harry asked him about what Dad did. Sam wasn’t sure but he had some guesses. He was kind of afraid to say anything, so he said he didn’t know. Which was the truth since Dad and Dean never told him what Daddy did. Dean had made it clear Sam wasn’t even supposed to ask. Harry surprised Sam by just letting it go.

“Do you move a lot?”

“We,” Sam stressed, enjoying that Harry was now part of their family, “move more than anyone else I’ve met. Except at this one school in California that was near a navy base. Some of the kids there had moved almost as much as Dean and me.” Sam sighed. He knew it wasn’t normal but it was normal for them. “Dean can say it better. Wanna play cars?”

“Sure,” Harry said.

Hours later they were called inside. Dean served dinner and then asked Dad if Harry was a Winchester now, too. All of the boys got silent and listened for Dad’s answer. “Yep,” Dad said and ruffled Harry’s hair just like he did Sam’s.

They had cake for dessert to celebrate.

Within days after that, Sam noticed there were all these birds around. Owls all day and night and then hawks and bigger birds. Sam pointed them out and Dad dismissed them, but soon there was too many to ignore. Sam watched as Dad walked out the front door and spoke to the birds which Sam thought made him look a little crazier.

“What do you want?”

He was amazed as a bird brought a letter down and dropped it into Daddy’s hands. Dad stared at the birds and back down at the letter. He turned and brought it inside. Examining the letter, he turned it carefully in his hands before turning it over. “Department of Magic,” he read out loud and the red wax seal fell away. The letter started to speak in a very nice woman’s voice.

“Dear Winchester family,

It has come to our attention that you have adopted a magical child. Our records show that your own magical child will soon be of age. Normally, we wait until the child’s eleventh birthday; however, exceptions are made in the case of an adoption. We have enrolled Harry Winchester in the Salem Academy for Wizards and Witches and there is a spot saved for Samuel when he is of age. However, you may choose to tutor your child privately. Your selected tutor must be by a certified Magic instructor or we can block your children’s use of magic permanently.

Please inform us of your decision. You can contact us directly by calling the number on the letterhead or by sending us a letter to the address on the same. The US Postal Service will deliver it directly, there is no need to send your reply via owl post.

Congratulations on your adoption! By adopting a magical child, you have been put under restrictions of which you may not have been aware. Please see attached paper containing the laws and statues that govern magic use in the United States of America. Magic practice outside of school is strictly prohibited, unless supervised by a licensed tutor.

Sincerely,

Martha Hathaway
Department of Magic”

Laughing, Sam looked around. It had to be a joke, right? Dad flipped through the pages, reading to himself. Watching, Sam saw him look up at Harry and then at Sam. He dropped his eyes back to the paper after meeting Sam’s gaze. The smile dropped from Sam’s face and he shared a look with Harry and then Dean. What did this mean?

“What?” Sam started to ask.

“Not now, Sam, I have to read. Why don’t you and Harry go play?”

“But what?”

“Not now!” Dad snapped.

“Fine,” Sam said. “Come on, Harry.” Sam dragged his new brother outside.

Sitting cross-legged and facing one another, they talked about what they thought the letter was about, about magic, about school and schools for magic. Sam wanted to talk about the scary school but he wasn’t sure how to bring it up. Harry did it for him.

“Why did your . . . our,” Harry corrected himself with a smile, “dad take us to that scary place?”

Harry was asking him the same question that he had before about what Dad did, he just didn’t know it. This time Sam decided to tell Harry what he thought. Sam was uncertain but he had some ideas. Knowing that Dean knew more about what was going on drove him nuts so he had spent a lot of time thinking about it. He also knew because Harry was older, he was almost as old as Dean, that he would find out before him. So Sam explained what he thought Daddy did with a lot of ‘I guesses’ and ‘I thinks’.

Some of the kids at the school in California had said his Daddy was crazy when Sam had tried to explain what he did. Then they had teased Sam until Dean had found out and said something to the kids that made them go all pale. They just left him alone after that.

Trying to explain what he thought Dad did left Sam all stressed out and twitchy. First, they weren’t supposed to talk about it. Second, he wondered if Harry would decide he didn’t want to be a part of their family if he knew about whatever it was that Daddy did. Third, Dean and Dad had both made it clear that it wasn’t something they liked being talked about. So Sam sat and held his hands together to stop them from fidgeting, waiting for Harry’s response.

Harry just looked at Sam very seriously. “He fights bad guys?”

Sam nodded. “Like the ones that got your other family.”

Sitting quietly, Harry seemed to think about that for a while. Then he nodded and smiled at Sam. “Makes sense.”

“That’s what I thought,” Sam said.

“What did you think?” Dean asked as he walked up behind them.

Harry and Sam looked at one another and then both of them turned to look at Dean. “I was ‘splaining what Daddy does. Harry doesn’t know about the special work so I was ‘splaining it to him.”

“Explaining,” Dean corrected him and Sam stuck his tongue out at Dean. “Dad’ll tell Harry when he wants him to know, Squirt. You know that.”

“But, Dean,” Sam whined and Harry looked between the two of them.

“I’m not sure I want to know,” Harry said and Dean nodded.

“Trust me, you don’t.” Dean turned and walked away.

Dad finished his job and they moved just after Christmas. They were going to move before that but Sam had figured out that Harry had never celebrated Christmas before so he asked Dad if they could stay and have a tree and presents. Dad had looked at Harry, Sam, and Dean and then gave a little shrug and Sam cheered and danced around until Dean told him to stop acting like a loon.

Christmas that year was great. Daddy invited Uncle Bobby up and they had a tree and decorations. Dad showed Uncle Bobby the letter. Watching closely all the time he was playing with his cars, Sam wondered what Uncle Bobby would do.

“I don’t like it, John,” Uncle Bobby said. “The witches I’ve met are all either sadly disillusioned or they get their power from Them.” Sam shivered at the tone of Uncle Bobby’s voice. “But,” he continued a little quieter, “there are some people I can ask. You might want to give Missouri a call; she might know something.” Sam wondered why dad was supposed to call a state then he figured it was someone’s name. Dad shook his head and Uncle Bobby argued some more but quieter so that Sam couldn’t hear. Finally Dad agreed to something.

Sam went shopping with Dean for presents. He even managed to get a knife for Dean, telling him it was for Dad. Daddy took Harry shopping and Uncle Bobby took Dean. Harry came home in tears and Daddy looked upset.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

“I am,” Harry said.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked, trying to figure out why Harry was crying.

“Dad took me to get my hair cut but I didn’t want to. My hair broke the lady’s scissors and then she got clippers that just stopped working. I am a freak,” Harry said as he sat down on his bed with a thump.

“Dean said that wasn’t a nice word. You’re not a freak.” Sam was still confused about why Harry was upset. “Did the lady hurt you? Were you scared? How did your hair break the scissors? The clippers scared me before so I only get haircuts with scissors but Dean and Daddy get theirs done with the clippers.”

“Sam,” Dad snapped at him. “One question at a time.”

Sam shut his mouth, nodded, and looked at Harry. Harry gave Sam a small smile, which Sam thought was a good sign, then he told a story about before, as he called it.

“They always wanted everything perfect. She wanted everything perfect but I never was. There was one time when she shaved my head because of my messy hair and the next morning it was all grown back. I don’t know how - maybe it was this magic stuff or maybe I’m just a freak,” Harry said quietly.

“Sam’s right, that’s not a nice word. I don’t ever want to hear you call yourself that again, understand?” Dad spoke firmly.

Harry looked a little scared but he nodded.

“It sounds like something you can’t control. It’s not your fault. Maybe I should write back to that lady from the school. Maybe she could recommend a tutor, because I don’t think I’m comfortable just sending you off to school for nine months of the year. You’re a Winchester now and we take care of each other.”

Sam nodded and looked at Dean. Dean always watched after him. It wasn’t often Sam got to return the favor.

Moving them to Billings, Montana, Dad found a job with a local auto shop and Dean, Harry and Sam went back to school. Sam helped Harry to settle in. He found it was easier to move this time, because even if Harry was older than him, he still needed help. Dean turned twelve on January 24th and they had a small party. Soon after Dean was going on hunts with Dad, leaving Sam and Harry at home, alone sometimes and sometimes with a sitter.

They had this one sitter and Sam told Dean that she was an old Indian woman. Dean had smacked him and told him that she was a Native American member of the Crow nation and that they were lucky she would watch them. Sam tried to explain he hadn’t meant anything bad but Dean just ignored him, like usual. She was strict but in a different way from Dad. Sam couldn’t explain it. Harry could though. Boundaries. She set them and they didn’t change. You knew what to expect. With Dad, it wasn’t like that. Everything was fluid, changing.

Harry was the one who figured out that Nana Bishee would tell them stories if they behaved. She was horrid when she was cross so Harry and Sam tried to stay on her good side. Soon, whenever Bishee was around, Harry and Sam hurried through their chores so they could sit and listen to her tell them stories.

Stories of the Red Woman, who helped make men and women and tricked the Coyote’s wife into making women-men and men-women. They were special people who were feared and respected. Harry was quite interested and asked Bishee a bunch of questions. Sam didn’t really listen because he was worried about the Red Woman. Bishee had told them another story of the Red Woman a week before.

“Red Woman was walking one day and she came upon a pregnant woman. She killed the woman and cut the babies out of her stomach. Throwing one behind a curtain and one down a well, she then shoved sticks in the poor dead woman’s stomach and propped her up beside the teepee. Her husband came home and at first he thought his wife was alive but he pushed her and the sticks came out of her stomach and he knew that it was the Red Woman who had done this.”

Bishee looked at both Sam and Harry and had stopped her story. Sam wondered what happened to the boys but he was too afraid to ask.

Bishee also told them about the little people that lived in the sacred mountains. They sounded like fun to Sam but Bishee said they were not fun for little pale boys. Sam and Harry nodded. Dad stopped in the doorway once and listened to Nana Bishee talk about the little people. Coming in, he started to ask her questions and Bishee answered them. For some reason Daddy asked her about magic and she said that she had a passing acquaintance with it. Harry and Sam looked from her to Dad and back again.

Showing her the letter from the school had her frowning. Dad asked her if she was a tutor. At that, Nana Bishee threw her head back and laughed a deep belly laugh, her grey-streaked braid shaking against her back. She laughed for so long that Dad started to get uncomfortable. Sam could tell from the way he shuffled his feet. Finally winding down, she got serious and talked to Dad.

Yes, she could be a tutor. She used to run the school in Salem but she gave it up when she was needed back here, she explained to him. They shared a smile and that was when Sam got nervous. There must have been a parent code or something because, before Sam could turn around, he and Harry were taking classes from Nana Bishee.