Chapter Text
Proloque:
John Winchester blinked at the doctor numbly. Surely his ears were playing tricks on him. He could face a wendigo or a werewolf without a second thought or even a hint of fear, but to process what he'd just been told seemed a million times harder than it had been to accept the existence of monsters.
His heart plummeted fiercely and his boys stuffed into the chair beside him could feel the sudden wave of tension from their father. Sam was the one who spoke, Dean was still attempting to block out the horrible discomfort from the recent tests. He had always been uncomfortable with unfamiliar situations and rarely spoke to strangers unless necessary. So the combination of the two had brought him close to what John called a 'freak out'. "Daddy?" The six year old questioned. All he knew was that Dean was not well.
That was why they were here, to find out why Dean was such a picky child. It seemed that the older he got the more introverted he became talking to Sam and John mostly. He also had strange moments in the grocery store where he would complain the noise was too loud and the lights too bright. These occasions had begun to test the single father's patience. It hadn't been until Bobby Singer suggested a visit to the doctor that John even considered Dean's behavior wasn't a choice.
Now he wished he could just take back agreeing to have Dean looked at.
Because this, this was too much for him right now. He loved Dean he did, but this couldn't be true. Dean was a bright kid, he could make repairs on the '67 Impala he drove without supervision. Dean could name the parts and functions of the motor from recall. He quoted movies, albeit he sometimes didn't make sense. He talked just fine, the only time he went monotone was when he was scared or didn't want to talk. Most of the time he was fine, though now that John thought about it he could see the signs. Oh how he'd mistaken them in his limited contact with his sons, chalking it up to the hard nomadic life they lived.
But Dean never made eye contact and John had to yell for it on occasion. Not even Sam could get those wide greens to stand still on his face. The kid liked specific clothing, protesting scratchier articles and almost whining about wearing them. He liked certain foods and refused to eat others, he got nauseous if something smelled or tasted too strong for him. And he was good with mechanics. He didn't always make sense when he cracked humor. And despite his training with weapons and guns, Dean was sometimes clumsy in specific situations.
"I've been staring it in the face and didn't even notice." The hunter murmured miserably.
"Mister Winchester, I am sorry, but it's also not your fault." Doctor Jentry apologized softly. He tapped the paperwork on the desk in front of them. "Unfortunately we still know little on the matter. What I can tell you, is that Dean is smart and strong. With proper guidance and coping methods he should be able to live a normal independent life as an adult."
"What's wrong with me?" Dean whispered at his father. Sam frowned at his big brother. Nothing was wrong with him as far as the youngest Winchester was concerned.
John looked at Dean gently, a sadness in his eyes the boy hadn't seen since his mother died. It made his stomach knot up, because that meant something was wrong, really wrong. "I-" The single father stopped and ran a hand through his hair. "Nothing." He said with finality.
The doctor nodded encouragingly. The first mistake a parent made was insisting that their child with Autism or Asperger's was defective. When parents equated a developmental disorder to a disease like the plague it destroyed any hope of the child ever achieving their potential.
"You just work differently than normal people." Jentry filled the curious silence. "You have some truly fantastic gifts Dean, you also have your fair share of struggles. Everyone has those Dean. Yours are just unique to you." He smiled at the ten year old boy.
John relaxed and nodded. "You aren't a freak. Neither one of you." John added so Sam knew he wasn't being forgotten. God knew both his boys had issues, and maybe a few were his fault. But no one could blame Mary's death on Sam, and Dean had been born with his condition. John had just never noticed it, and maybe since Dean had been Mary's first she hadn't recognized the early signs either. How young and unprepared they had been. It was a thought he lamented over.
Dean worried his lip and then turned to John eyes hitting the wall behind his father's head. "Promise?"
"Of course." The man affirmed. Because Dean wasn't broken, he was certainly different, he'd need specific attention, but he was still his son.
Bobby Singer watched the battered family climb into the house. He patted John's shoulder in support. "How's he taking it?"
"Better than me I think. Sam's been real good about it though." The father admitted looking his friend in the eyes. "I just-" He paused not even knowing where to begin sorting his emotions. He never was good at explaining things.
Bobby nodded helplessly. What did you say to a man who just learned his eldest child was going to spend the rest of his life with a label most people looked down on? What did you say to the normal younger brother who would spend his days getting insincere pity about living with a 'disabled' family member? More importantly, what did you say to the kid diagnosed with Asperger's?
Because he was the one who had to deal with it in ways they didn't, wouldn't, understand. He was the one who had to struggle with his body's quirks and inconsistencies. He was the one kids would make more fun of for having a documented 'illness'.
And how did this effect John's hunting? Hell the life messed with his head. What would it do to Dean who by human standards was neuroatypical?
"Stay here as long as you need." Bobby offered suddenly. He knew children like Dean needed stability, though that was all he'd ever picked up on. Unless you were confronted with such people daily it was impossible to know anything of use. Sure anyone could spew whatever nonsense they concocted on the matter, but it wouldn't help Dean to go about this blindly.
"We can learn through this together." The older man suggested.
John stared wide eyed. "You don't have to help."
"But I want to." Bobby said with a smile. It was sad, full of the regret the hunter carried. But there was a genuine desire to be of use as well. "I kinda like being 'Uncle' Bobby."
John nodded half to himself and sighed. Tired eyes landed on the boys standing in the doorway watching them. Sam didn't understand much of anything. And Dean? Well Dean was trying to not freak out.
"Are we going to stay for the summer?" Dean asked hopefully. His eyes hovered between the two men never landing on them.
"Yes." John answered noting the hopeful way Dean's eyes were shining.
"Yay!" The brothers cheered in unison. And for a moment John knew it was ok.