Archive of Our Own ^beta

Evan Palmer was a fifty-five year old man who had been teaching at Truman High School for well over twenty years now. He’d seen his fair share of students, the ‘good’ ones who sit in the front with their heads held high and a pleasant, if not fake, smile plastered to their faces, answering every question without hesitation, not afraid to get anything wrong because they’ve been told all their lives they’re the golden child who’ll make it far, they’re in almost every honors course and every extracurricular activity that’ll fit into their schedule. Then there were the kids that sat near the back, quiet, maybe a little shy, just trying to survive the year without being noticed. And of course there were the ones who came in late, talked real loud, goofed off every chance they got, didn’t take a thing he said seriously.

The year of 1997, he’d gotten two boys who he figured would fit neatly in one of the three categories - Sam and Dean Winchester. Sam, the younger of the two brothers, was the first type. He enrolled in all honors despite being only thirteen and a Freshman, had taken both track and karate after school. He’d come to class carrying an armful of books with a wide grin on his face even as he nearly tripped on the way to his desk. The first week of class, he’d answer almost every question, usually correctly and confidently. Palmer remembered thinking to himself as he listened to the bell ring and watched as the students got up to leave, ‘Kid will go far’. His coworkers thought the same. He’d hear some of the other teachers rave about little Sam Winchester. Despite being just a Freshman and transferring in the middle of the year, he could keep up with some of the more advanced courses such as Calculus. Definitely the golden child.

His brother on the other hand was also usually the major subject in after school hours among his peers, not quite for the same reasons as Sam. Dean was loud and obnoxious, liked to skip out during some of the classes that didn’t interest him. He had a smart mouth and liked to sit in the back. Palmer had been ready to write him off as the third type of students, the ones that didn’t much care for school, that had no idea what they wanted to do in the future and thus couldn’t be bothered to take anything seriously. He figured Sam was the one who set his eyes on college and Dean seemed to treat school like a chore, perhaps only attending because he had to.

It wasn’t until a month in that he discovered that if Dean put in some modicum of effort into his work, he’d start passing his class just as easily as his brother. “Dean, a moment please?” he asked the teen one day just as the bell rang signaling the end of class.

Dean looked up briefly from gathering his notebook and textbook. Palmer made a note to himself that the boy actually brought his books with him. “What’s up, Mr. Palmer?” he asked, glancing around as his classmates started heading out of the classroom without him. His gaze, open and curious, settled back onto Palmer.

Most of the other teachers thought Dean Winchester might be a lost cause, seemingly content with just barely passing his classes so that he could graduate at the end of the year but there were glimpses of the boy that Palmer had seen during the month he and his brother started attending Truman High that had him curious. Once Dean came over to him, Palmer showed him his latest essays, the ones that Dean curiously put a lot of thought into. He let the boy take the first one and read over it. He’d marked it with an A-, deducting a couple points for grammar and length but otherwise it was a really good paper and he’d gotten a small glimpse into how insightful Dean could be when he was given the chance. The second essay he had just graded over the weekend was a 100.

“Um, are you giving these back?” Dean asked after a moment as he looked up at him.

He looked somewhat bashful, unsure what he was supposed to do with his two essays in his hands. He glanced back down at the scores he’d received from the papers and he shifted from one foot the other, looking a little uncomfortable, like he wasn’t quite used to seeing high grades on his papers. Palmer cleared his throat and Dean’s attention immediately drifted back up to him. “Yes. I’m giving them back to you, Dean,” he said after a moment, “but that wasn’t really the reason I called you back here.”

“Oh,” Dean said, “Uh. Well, thanks. I guess.” He fell into silence for a moment, glancing down at the floor. “What else did you call me for?”

Dean’s devil may care attitude he’d put on earlier was nowhere to be seen today. He stood there like a kid who had been caught red-handed doing something he wasn’t supposed to but Palmer didn’t call him back because he was in trouble. He wished he had a better grasp on the older Winchester boy but Dean was an enigma. “You’re not in trouble, son,” Palmer blurted out finally. Dean’s head shot up and he stared at him with a frown.

“I’m not?” he asked.

“No. No, I just wanted to talk to you about your grades,” Palmer admitted.

“Thought you just said I wasn’t in trouble,” Dean grumbled.

“Your grades are fine, Dean,” Palmer assured him. Dean looked at him with a raised eyebrow. His face silently read ‘then what’s the problem?’ Palmer sighed and rubbed the palm of one hand over his eyes. The problem was the fact that Dean could do a lot better than the C average he was sporting in the class. These essays were a good indicator of that but based on his attitude the boy hardly cared about that. As long as he was passing, what did it matter to him? He glanced down at the papers that were clenched tightly in the boy’s hands. If it didn’t matter, then Dean wouldn’t have put such effort into those essays. “Right now, you have a C+ in my class, but that’s only because you’ve skipped a whole week and missed a major test. You can do so much better than that though, Dean,” he told him.

Dean’s eyes widened in shock. “I…” He trailed off before glancing back down at his papers.

“It’s true,” Palmer insisted. “You’re clever and thoughtful and smarter than you give yourself credit for. I don’t know what your home life is like-”

Dean seemed to snap out of the daze he was in and snapped, “My home life isn’t any of your business, teach.” Palmer froze at the abrupt change. Dean’s demeanor suddenly changed and he relaxed and shot Palmer a crooked grin. “I appreciate the pep talk but I think you got me confused with Sam. Sam’s smart and bound for college. Thanks for the papers back though. If that’s all, I should probably get to my next class before I’m late.” He didn’t wait for Palmer to reply as he strolled out of the classroom without so much as a backwards glance.

Palmer sighed. Yeah, okay. That went well…

Dean Winchester didn’t show up to class for another week. When Palmer confronted the younger Winchester on his brother’s whereabouts, Sam had just glanced down and shrugged, obviously not very comfortable with the question. Palmer wondered if it had anything to do with their last confrontation.

It did not.

Or at least it didn’t seem that way because the next time Dean showed up carrying his battered textbook and notebook, he had a long scratch down the right side of his face and he was on crutches. When Palmer just stared at him as the other students slowly started to come in to take their seats, Dean just grinned and said, “You shoulda seen the other guy.”

Palmer didn’t think the joke was all that funny. When confronted about his injuries and absence, Dean said, “Look, I get that you’re just doing your job and trying to look out for your students, but I’m telling you the truth. I got into a fight. That’s all.”

Weaver, a woman in her late forties who had been with the school for only five years before becoming the principal, glanced over to Palmer and the assistant principal, Charles Jackson. They tried to call Dean’s father, John, but it went straight to voicemail. It only made Weaver more concerned.

Dean glared at them, “My dad’s a busy man, okay? The reason I wasn’t in school last week was because I was sick. Then I got into a little fight a couple days ago.” The adults shared a look. “Am I in trouble or not?”

Of course Dean hadn’t been called into the office for any rules he’d broken. It was out of concern on Palmer’s part. He’d seen the boy show up to his classes and pretend like he didn’t care about the lectures only to turn in stellar papers and the couple quizzes he’d taken showed he was definitely paying attention. He wasn’t at all like his younger brother, Sam. He didn’t like answering questions and would rather talk quietly to pretty girls but he was smart and attentive and the few times he’d seen the brothers interact with each other showed that Dean took being the older brother very seriously.

Maybe that was why Palmer was having such a tough time letting this particular student slip under the radar. In the past, Palmer would’ve quietly categorized him as the class clown, loud and just wanting attention, but Dean showed that he was more than that. He wanted to do well under the façade he put on. He was just lost and Palmer found himself drawn to him. He wanted to help the boy.

It was close to the end of the school year and Dean’s grade had miraculously stayed the same. He’d flunk a few quizzes that Palmer was absolutely sure he could’ve passed easily if he wanted to. He’d seen him glance up with a smirk from the back of the room, leaning backwards against his chair as he finished conversing with a pretty redhead. Palmer had ignored the look, trying to come up with a way to approach Dean about his grades. It really was a waste of talent if he let the boy go without a proper conversation, this time about his future, perhaps college. Sam had told him earlier that he wanted to go to college if he could so why couldn’t it be the same for Dean? The boy had so much potential.

One day in early May, Sam Winchester approached Palmer’s desk and looked the man in the eyes. “I get what you’re trying to do with my brother but I don’t think anything you say is going to get through to him, you know,” the thirteen year old boy said, surprising Palmer with just how profound and wise he sounded. “Dean’s been through a lot this year. We both have.” He paused there, looking like he was thinking over his words carefully. “I think he’s really smart too but he doesn’t care about school all that much.”

Palmer frowned. He had silently agreed with the younger boy until the last part. He shook his head and said, “I don’t think that last part is true of your brother, Sam. I think he cares a lot about school.”

Sam looked at him curiously. “Well Dean never acts like school should be a priority.”

There was obviously a lot about Dean the younger brother hadn’t realized. It was sad that Sam shared Palmer’s initial thoughts of Dean. He sighed and said, “As much as I appreciate the help, I think you should let me worry about your brother. Why don’t you go take a seat now, Sam? We’re just about ready to start.”

He watched as Sam frowned, tilting his head slightly as he thought over what Palmer said. Then he shrugged and went to take his usual seat at the front.

It was the last week of May that Palmer finally met the elusive John Winchester. John was a tall and muscular man with short, dark hair and caring hazel eyes. He sat just across from Palmer who had called him to talk to him privately about both boys. He wore a jacket that reminded Palmer of the one Dean wore, leather and worn down around the edges, big enough to fit perfectly around John’s body but had made Dean look like a kid playing dress up. He sat straight in his chair, rigid like, looking plainly uncomfortable with the way his shoulders stayed hunched and his eyes darted around before finally settling on Palmer. It suddenly dawned on Palmer just how alike Dean and his dad seemed.

“Look, Mr. Palmer, I got nothing but good stuff to say about my old man. The only reason he ain’t here right now is because he’s busy, okay?” But how busy could one man be that he’d let his sons stay by themselves at some small rundown apartment complex in the bad side of town? “He’s running ragged trying to make ends meet and the least I can do is keep my nose clean and outta trouble and watch out for my little brother and that’s exactly what I’m doing here. I don’t give a damn about graduating with honors or whatever shit you want to spout. I’m passing, ain’t I? Isn’t that freaking enough? College ain’t in my plans. That’s Sammy. He’s the smart one. He’s the one who’s gonna make it far. He’s cut out for it. I ain’t. And nothing you say can change anything.”

“But what if you are cut out for it? That’s what I’m trying to get at, son. I see something in you, Dean. Something extraordinary. You’re destined for something much bigger than barely graduating high school. If you would just-”

“Look, teach. Hate to break it to you but you’re wrong, okay? I thought maybe I wanted all that crap before, you know? The whole apple pie life. Going to college, getting a degree, buying a house and having a family and marrying the right girl. But that ship’s sailed. I’m not cut out for it. Sam is though so if you want to do this whole ‘you can make it big out there’ spiel, it’s him you should be saving your breath on. He’s the golden child and I’m just…” he shrugged like it was no big deal, but Palmer could see it in his eyes, it was a big deal. “I’m just going to go into the family business.”

“You must be John Winchester,” Palmer said, trying not to stare for so long. Winchester nodded without so much as a trace of a smile. “My name is Evan Palmer. I teach History here at Truman High. I’ve taught both of your sons.” He watched as the blank look on Winchester’s face slowly transformed into something akin to interest. “Sam and Dean Winchester?”

Winchester was silent for a moment. Then he nodded, leaning forward slightly. “Yeah. Those are my sons.” It was the first time he’d spoken and Palmer was surprised to hear the gruffness in his voice. “They in trouble?”

“Oh, uh, no,” Palmer said. Winchester shot him a look that quietly asked ‘then what the fuck am I here for’ and it was a stark reminder that this was the man Dean clearly got all of his mannerisms from. If there had been any doubt whatsoever that this man was the father, it would’ve vanished completely at this point. “Look, I asked you to come here because frankly I’m a little concerned over your oldest, Dean.”

Winchester raised an eyebrow, leaning back again and folding his arms over his chest. “I thought you said they weren’t in trouble.”

“They’re not. Not really,” Palmer said with a sigh, remembering back to Dean’s similar reaction when he first confronted him over his concerns on his grades. “Dean’s passing my class and as far as I know, all of his other classes as well. He’s right on track to graduating this year.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Winchester asked gruffly, losing interest in the conversation. He was looking around the classroom now.

“The ‘problem’ that isn’t so much a problem but more of a personal concern that I’m having is that he’s averaging barely a C but I know he has the potential to do much better.”

They fell into silence for a minute before Winchester finally turned back. He looked at him with an indiscernible expression that made Palmer a little uncomfortable. He was usually good at reading expressions and body language. The way Winchester was staring at him made him feel a little like a small insect caught under a microscope. He cleared his throat when finally Winchester said, “I agree with you that my son is hella smart, both of them are, but Dean knows what he’s doing. If he wanted to pursue more schooling, he’d be putting in more effort.” Winchester paused, letting the words sink in. “The boy’s never cared much about school. He’s always put his family first, just the way it should be.”

Palmer leaned back. He had to be very careful about his next few words. “And family is important, I’m not disagreeing there, Mr. Winchester. I think he might also care about school, which is why I’m just a little concerned in the first place.”

Winchester snorted. “Look. Like I said, Dean’s a smart kid. But I think you might be mixing up Dean with Sam if you think he cares about school. Thanks for your concern and all, but I think I would know my sons more than some rando who’s taught them for barely six months. No offense meant,” he tacked on as an afterthought.

Palmer was pretty sure he didn’t care much if he’d taken offense to the claim that he had no idea what he was talking about despite being in the field for twenty plus years. This had not been what he imagined when he called John Winchester.

Since the confrontation with Winchester, Dean seemed to avoid Palmer. He’d come in late, sometimes in the middle of the class, slowly and dragging his feet, looking tired and weary. He’d make his way to the back, miraculously with his books and he’d keep quiet until the end where he’d hand in his homework to Palmer and beeline for the door, somehow managing to disappear into the throngs of students.

Palmer tried to talk to Dean but the boy found every excuse in the book to leave on time. “Sorry, Mr. Palmer, I’m gonna be late getting to class,” he’d say. Or, “Just got a call from dad. He wants me to pick Sammy up early today.” “I’ve got this test to get to in second period.”

A few days before graduation, Palmer finally caught up to Dean in the hallway during lunch period. He was hanging by his lockers with his younger brother. They were in the middle of a heated debate of some sort and Palmer couldn’t help but frown. When he stepped closer, the noise drew the brothers’ attention to him and they glanced up.

“Oh hey Mr. Palmer,” Sam greeted him.

Palmer nodded at the young boy before glancing at the older sibling. Dean was staring at him with wide eyes, frozen under his gaze. Then in a blink of an eye, he smiled and leaned back casually and said, “Fancy seeing you here, teach.”

Palmer frowned at them. “Shouldn’t you two be at lunch right now?”

Both boys glanced at each other. Palmer didn’t understand the quiet exchange but they both seemed to reach the same conclusion because Dean finally stepped to the side and let Palmer see that Dean had been standing in front of his locker…which was now completely empty. Palmer blinked, looking over at Dean to realize that he wasn’t carrying anything. He looked back to Sam and found that he wasn’t lugging his oversized backpack he normally sported. He was dressed in a simple jean jacket and plain tee shirt and dark blue jeans but his hands were empty and he looked at Palmer almost guiltily. Dean was wearing the same leather jacket he always wore and a black tee shirt underneath that had the words METALLICA on the front.

“What’s going on, boys?” he asked gently, dreading the answer that would inevitably follow.

Sam glanced down at the floor but it was Dean who broke the silence, “We’re leaving.”

The graduation ceremony was only a few days away.

“Dad made us pack up and today’s our last day here,” Dean continued, like Palmer wasn’t a million miles away, wondering how Winchester could do this to his sons. Dean’s graduating but he won’t even get to participate in his own ceremony. “We just returned our textbooks and shit to the office and all that.”

He couldn’t say anything, couldn’t even look at them without thinking what a messed up world this had to be if kids couldn’t even attend their own ceremonies they worked so hard to be in because of bastard parents like John Winchester. “Sam, why don’t you go out first, kay? Dad’s probably waiting out front with the Impala. I’ll catch up in a sec,” Dean was saying in the background. He couldn’t hear what Sam said in response, if he said anything at all, but when he came back, it was just Dean looking up at him, that unsure expression on his face back. “I thought a lot about what you told me earlier, Mr. Palmer, and you’re right. I do like school. I like your class. I think your lectures are interesting and learning can be boring sometimes but I find it fun. But you have to understand, what I said back then was - is - also true. College ain’t in the cards for me right now.” He stopped himself, then sighed, leaning back against the locker. Palmer couldn’t help but notice how small Dean looked, despite his six feet stature. “I used to think I might want to go to college but life kinda happened. Things became really hard this year, not just for my dad but our whole family, and my priorities changed. I have to take care of my family. It’s important.”

Palmer had suspected that might’ve been the case. From the conversations he had with Sam and John, he knew it had to be a personal issue. But hearing Dean admit to something like that out loud had it all confirmed. He wanted to help this boy; he suspected it was too late now. Maybe if he’d pushed harder months ago, he might’ve been able to make a difference, but now? It was clear Dean’s choice to follow his father was the only thing that mattered to him at this point.

He sighed to himself, but looked at Dean with sad eyes and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “If you ever change your mind, you know where I’ll be.”

Dean stared back at him for a second and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks,” he said. He was about to pull away and leave but Palmer held onto him for another moment, quickly pulling out a card he normally reserved for families in dire situations.

“Here. This is my card. It has my number and email in case you ever need to talk,” he said. “Doesn’t matter what it is, I’ll listen.”

Dean took the card and looked at it for a long moment. When he glanced up, he flashed Palmer a smile that was the most genuine he’d seen in the months the boy had shown up to his class. “Thanks, teach.” He pocketed the card and turned to leave.

Palmer watched him go.

Dean Winchester never once emailed or called him and Palmer often wondered if that was a good thing or bad thing.

THE END