Prodigal | J2 AU NC-17 | Chapter 4

[fufaraw]

 




Chapter Four

"How are you doing with that?" Dr. Ferris asked. She had known about Donna's hasty departure, and wondered how deeply it had affected her son.

For a split second, Jensen wilted, his body slumped where he sat, his head lowered as though his neck hadn't the strength to hold it up. Then he seemed to shake it off and straightened his spine, resettled his body erect in the chair, lifted his head and met her eyes. "I can't change her reaction," he answered. "It's not something I can work toward changing. I can't even really blame her for reacting the way she did. It's obviously a werewolf thing for her." He gave a quick eyeroll and shrug of apology for his mother's prejudice, and Samantha inclined her head in acknowledgement. He went on, "It wasn't actually even personal, toward me."

She fought to keep her eyebrows level. This was surprising empathy from a child about his parent, and one so young.

"I know she's always loved me. She taught me well. She will always love me, in an abstract way now, I guess." He shrugged. "I just don't fit the image, present or future, that she's always had for me."

He sipped at his water bottle, and went on. "My dad thinks he can work on her, get her to...I don't know, become accustomed to the werewolf thing." He met her gaze again, and shook his head. "I'm not so sure. I love her, she's my mom. I don't want to lose touch with her.

"But if she can't stand to be around me, then I can’t spend the rest of my life trying to convince her. It’s not like I asked for any of this. I didn’t ask to be made into—into something she can’t love. I'm not the kid she knew, I know that. But I have to learn about, find out who and what I am now. If I have to do that without her, then I guess that's what I have to do."

If her eyebrows could have climbed any further they'd have been in Samantha's hairline. Where was this wisdom and perspective coming from? This wasn't the shattered boy she'd spoken with on previous occasions. That boy did make an appearance though; Jensen's features twisted as he added. "Sucks, though. You always want your mom, you know? It hurts, when she doesn't want you back."

He took a deep breath. "But as long as she doesn't try to keep me from talking to my sister, I guess we're good."

*    *    *

On Tuesday, Jensen went back to Dr. Speight's office to have his contraceptive implant checked, and to pick up his prescription for suppressants. The doc sat him down, and using charts and diagrams, he explained Jensen's anatomy, werewolf genders, a brief overview of carrying and delivering young in both forms, and why Jensen and other omegas reacted to alphas the way they did.

He explained that the suppressants would prevent Jensen's heats, though he would have to plan for and allow himself a heat for every four or five heats he skipped—they would have to see what worked best. Speight explained that the suppressants would also help damp down his response to alphas, but wouldn't eliminate it. Jensen asked if betas responded the same way to alpha command, and the doc said they did, but not nearly as intensely as omegas.

Jensen wanted to know if there was any form of permanent heat suppressant, or birth control. The doc hesitated before he said, no, there was nothing currently available. From Speight's behavior, Jensen guessed the doc was withholding information. Jensen didn't know why he would do that. If there were better, more permanent methods to avoid heats and prevent pregnancy, he didn't want to have to rely on pills someone else might gain control of, and the implant, which would need to be replaced periodically to continue to function.

Speight looked Jensen straight in the eye. "Look, kid. At some point you're going to want to mate with someone, and whoever it is will expect to have a family with you. Trust me, when you find your mate, you're going to want their pups as much as they will."

Jensen shook his head no. "Not a chance in hell, doc. No pups."

Speight cocked an eyebrow at him. "Does your family know about the other pups?"

"No. And I don't plan for them to ever find out. That part of my life is over."

Speight's heart hurt for the kid. He still had a lot to recover from, and who knew if he would ever be all the way over it.

"So that's why I need to know if there's any way—I don't want anybody else to ever be able to force me into that again. There has to be something, some way."

It was hard to deny the hope shining in the kid's face, but legally, there wasn't anything else Speight could offer Jensen. "I'm sorry, kid. This is what we got."

He waited a minute for the kid to digest the news, and then suggested, "Look, Jensen. I'm not going to say anything to anybody. But your dad, at least, needs to know the truth. You need to have that conversation with him, if not now, then soon."

Jensen looked away, but not before Speight caught the glitter of tears. "Why? Why do I have to tell him more awful crap about what happened to me? He can't change it. It'll just make him feel more like he let me down."

"He didn't."

"I know that. But I'm his kid. To him, that means it's his job to keep me safe. He thinks he didn't do that, and it's tearing him up. There was nothing he could have done, but that doesn't seem to matter, you know? So he doesn't need to know about this, too."

Speight took a long moment, watching the kid, before finally asking, "Wasn't there anything about the experience that was...less than awful for you?"

He couldn't decipher the expression on Jensen's face as he continued. "You gave birth, Jensen. To new life. Wasn't that at least something to be proud of?"

Jensen didn't move, or turn to face him. His voice when he spoke was flat and emotionless. "I was made pregnant. I didn't know, the first time, that's what it was. When they were born, they fed. The betas took them away, cleaned them up, took care of them until they brought them back to feed. And when they were old enough to eat on their own my heat started and the whole thing repeated itself." Jensen didn't meet Speight's gaze, he didn't even look in his direction. "It didn't really have much to do with me. There was nothing to take pride in, just the body that had been forced on me doing its thing—like digesting, or breathing."

He flickered a blank gaze at the doc. "So no, in answer to your question, there's nothing worth telling my dad. All it will do is make him feel worse for letting them take me, for not finding me sooner."

Speight couldn't find words for a moment, but finally he said, "Okay. I understand your opinion. But if the occasion comes up, you think hard about telling him the whole truth. Don't risk him finding out some other way." He waited until the kid faced him. "Yeah?"

Jensen wiped a palm over his face, clearing the tears. "Okay," he said. "Sure."

Neither of them believed him.

*    *    *

Beaver was impressed by the speed at which Jensen powered through his lessons, showing up every afternoon, even some Saturdays, and passing test after test in almost every subject. It was possible a couple of years' maturity had a positive influence on his grasp of theory, and of historical perspective. The fact was that, except in a few instances, he was proceeding through the material even faster than Beaver had hoped.

He asked a teacher or two to drop by the house after school to discuss their subject with the kid, and to test him on what he had learned. Mr. Albertson, the math teacher, had to go over calc with him, more than once. Calculus was not a subject Jensen picked up intuitively. But he buckled down and did the exercizes Albertson set for him, finished his assignments, and passed the subject sooner than the principal had expected.

One-on-one was good for Jensen. But a bit of peer discussion might be helpful, too. Principal Beaver gave some thought to the student or students he thought might be compatible with the kid.

No alphas. Everyone had noticed Jensen had a heightened omega fear and submission response to alphas, especially unfamiliar ones. He did seem to have gotten accustomed to and fairly comfortable around Hugo and Lee. As far as Jim knew, Jensen hadn't come in contact with any other alphas here in Wolverton, except Omundson and Morgan and their men, when he and his dad first got to town. Still, it would be best not to introduce an alpha student as his first acquaintance. Beaver thought boys might be a better match than girls, at least at first. He expected Jensen to feel more in common with another guy, or guys.

Thinking over the students he'd had some personal contact with, he dismissed both alphas and omegas, narrowing his candidates to betas. He wanted somebody who had a good sense of humor and could laugh, but someone who also had enough sensitivity to respond to Jensen's shyness and hesitancy with kindness and understanding. As often as he glanced through files, the Padalecki kid kept coming back to mind. And at last he acknowledged his hunch that Jared would be good for Jensen.

*    *    *

After coordination and close cooperation between the PTA, the Athletic Department, the Student Government, and the School Athletics Booster Club, several fund drives had been held, with one common goal in mind. And after four years of concerted efforts, the high school finally had enough money to build an athletic stadium. Finally, football, baseball, soccer, and la crosse teams, and track and field competitors had a place to practice, and to compete. Pride and joy of the school, teams, students, and parents, the stadium was used and beloved from the moment the ribbon was cut at the dedication ceremony.

But as the first season passed for each of the sports played in the stadium, dissatisfaction began to grow. Because of the way the campus was laid out, an unbroken curve of grey cinderblock wall faced the road and the entrance to the school, and after the initial glow of achievement and pride of ownership began to fade a little, folks began to think it looked a little...plain. So, obviously, did a few student vandals, who took it upon themselves to splash opinions and observations in garish bright paint all across that blank grey surface, including some rather innovative and inventive graphic diagrams and cartoonish figures.

It was decided to cover the entire wall with a mural—or murals. Such a vast surface was large enough to divide into panels, and offer several student artists the chance to collaborate in an overall theme, and express themselves within their individual panels. Ideas and examples for the panels were submitted, and two students from the art department chosen to create the first two panels. Once the panel design was approved by a committee of faculty and Booster parents, the artist could assemble a student team to work on it, or work alone if he or she preferred. More panels would be assigned as funds allowed.

One of the student artists, Trevor Linwood, was a rising sophomore, still slight and boyish, and what attention he spared from his first love, art, he gave to music, studying and playing three instruments in whatever spare time he wasn't painting. He was thrilled to be given a panel to fill. Finally there was something he could give back to the school he loved, even though he couldn't be a famous football hero like his brother, Trip.

Terrence Arthur Linwood, III, known as Trip to his friends and family, had presented as an alpha more than a year ago, and he would be a senior once school started again in the fall, a valuable member of the football team, quarterback, and co-captain. He was handsome, brash, outgoing, popular with girls and his teammates. Most people believed that once Trip had finished his schooling he would naturally rise to a position as part of the district Alpha's team, even eventually work directly for Pack Alpha Morgan. Trip was everything a parent or mentor could hope for.

Trevor's talents lay in a different direction. With Trip as the shining star, both in the family and in school, Trev had always felt a bit overlooked. Trip had always taken his popularity as a given, and as older brothers do, had teased Trev for not being more aggressive in sports. But Trev was small and slight, and tended to be intimidated by older, bigger boys. Trip told him he shouldn’t let that stop him. He did also freely admire Trevor's art, and was usually ready to listen to a new tune the younger boy was composing. Even so, Trevor couldn't help realizing that music and art just weren't as important to his family and at school as Trip's athletic prowess.

But now Trevor had been given this chance, and he was going to paint a mural that would wow the whole school—students, teachers, parents, opposing teams, everybody! Just watch him!

*    *    *

It was the last week of school, and the days were already getting hot. Jared and Chad wandered past the stadium on their way home after school. Trevor was sitting on the grass, absorbed in sketching out ideas for the mural. His brother Trip was with a bunch of teammates and other alpha juniors and seniors, plus a couple of the slightly older alphas who had started hanging around with the alphas from school. The group were laughing, pushing and jostling each other and talking trash amongst themselves. They started moving toward the school, crossing behind the stadium where Trevor was working. They started catcalling him, rough teasing, scruffing his hair and smacking his head, and then one of them snatched his drawing pad away. Trevor looked to Trip, who looked uncomfortable, even while he kept laughing with the others. But after a minute or so he said, "Um, hey, guys..."

The alphas ignored Trip and continued to get rougher with the boy, as Jared and Chad approached from the school building heading in the opposite direction.

"Hey Trip," Jared called, and several of the alphas turned his way. Chad kept walking, mingling and trash talking with the other alphas. He threw arms around a couple of them and kept on walking and talking a mile a minute, angled back toward the building, engaging most of them in his patter and pulling them along with him, their focus now on him rather than on Trevor. Trip turned to Jared, who walked up closer, pulled the sketchpad out of an alpha's hand and looked at the drawing. "Hey, this looks pretty good." He squatted down next to the kid to talk about his plans for the mural, and slanted a glance up at Trev's older brother. "What do you think, Trip?"

There was a definite undertone of, "Why aren't you standing up for your brother against these losers?" But handing the pad to Trip provided an opportunity for him to disengage, and the rest of the group moved along after Chad, who was still talking a mile a minute and keeping the group entertained while he herded them subtly toward the building, without them catching on to what he was doing.

Jared and Trip faced each other for a minute, Trip trying not to show how shamefaced he was. He handed the pad back to Trevor, said, "See you at home, runt," and moved after the group. Once they were nearly at the building, Chad threw up a hand, "Later, bitches!" and high-fived a few hands before drifting back to Jared and Trevor.

Jared and Chad stuck around for a little while, discussing Trev's plans for the mural, until he packed up his drawings and sketchpad, and headed home.

*    *    *

Now that Principal Beaver had decided Jared was his best choice as Wolverton High ambassador and tour guide, to help Jensen settle in, all he had to do was invent an excuse for them to meet. He hoped Jared would be willing to spend some time with Jensen. If he knew teenagers the way he figured he did, those two would be friends in no time, and Jared could ease Jensen's way into meeting other kids, and getting more comfortable with people his own age before school started.

But he had to handle this right. He couldn't just introduce them and wander off and leave them to it. Jared had a right to know a little background on the Ackles kid, it would be unfair not to prepare him, at least somewhat, for what Jensen had already been through. This wasn't the usual story of growing up were and presenting as omega as a teenager, and Jared had a right to know that.

On the other hand, Jensen had a right to his privacy. So what should Jim tell Jared? How much would it be ethical to share? He had two resources he needed to ask before he did anything, and he decided to try the most attractive one first.

"Sam?" he asked the psychiatrist when she answered his call. "Have you got a minute this afternoon? Yeah? Can I buy you lunch? I need to pick your brain a little."

*    *    *

The kid showed up for his usual afternoon session, and Jim stopped to talk to him before he disappeared into his study to deal with a mountain of paperwork.

"Hey, Jensen. I hope you don't mind. I asked a boy who's a rising senior this coming year to stop by the house this afternoon." Beaver observed casually. Despite his hopes, he didn't want to put pressure on the kid. Jensen did that wide-eyed startle reaction for a second, but settled quickly.

"Sure, whatever," he responded with a shrug. "Your house." He went back to his history, but raised his head a minute later. "Oh—do you need me to leave?"

He started shuffling papers and notebook together before Jim could tell him, "No, he's dropping by to talk to me. I just didn't want to spring him on you." He gestured toward the table top with the book and the notes, and allowed himself a grin. "You go ahead with your assignment. I'll expect that chapter worksheet before you leave today."

Jared was a lanky fucker, Jensen thought, as they exchanged nods. He was at least three or four inches taller than Jensen, but there was no feeling of power or intimidation rolling off him. Beta, then. Jensen relaxed a little, noting Jared seemed a little bit ill at ease.

Mara brought a thermos of milk and a plate of cookies and shooed them both out onto the porch. "Principal Beaver’s on a call right now Jared, and he may be a while. Maybe you two can take a break. You can finish up that schoolwork later, Jensen. You need brain food."

"Cookies are brain food?" Jared wanted to know, carrying the thermos and mugs.

"Mara's cookies are brain food," Jensen grinned, plate in hand. "Mara's cookies could probably cure cancer."

Mara smiled back as she left them to it.

They settled in two of the porch rockers, cookies and milk on a small table between them. Jared bit a cookie and his eyebrows went up in appreciation. "These are good!"

"Told you." Jensen's grin was smug. He sobered a little as he poured milk into both mugs. "So, did Principal Beaver really want to meet with you or did he just tap you for babysitting duty?"

Jared shrugged non-commitally and lifted the plate in Hugo's direction, where he was rocking gently in a chair on the other side of the porch. Hugo smiled and shook his head. "Looks like they've got the babysitting covered."

Jensen's gaze fell. "How much did they tell you?"

Jared took a little breath. Honesty. There needed to be trust. "Just that you were new in town and maybe in need of some company more your own age." Jared bit into a cookie and smiled at the taste, dimples popping on both cheeks, before they dimmed as he grew more serious. "He didn’t say much. That, um, you were human, that the wolves who snatched and turned you kept you prisoner for three years. That you got away on your own, got to your dad, and the two of you came here. That the alphas who took you were Fenris pack, and are probably looking for you, to take you back. So that's why," he nodded in Hugo's direction. "The guards." He sipped at his mug and waited. Jensen nodded, but said nothing. "Is there anything else I should know?"

There was a beat, then Jensen met Jared's gaze. "I guess not. What about you?"

"Not much to tell. I'm finishing up my junior year. I play a little football but, big as I am, I'm no match for alpha linebackers, so I mostly ride the bench. I run cross country, my times are pretty good. I like math, that's where my best grades are, but I like history, too. Science, eh. I like knowing how things work, but a lot of it is kind of boring."

"English?"

"I like Lit, but I'm not outstanding at it. And grammar's a bore."

Jensen's grin answered Jared's. "Amen to that."

"So what subjects do you like—and hate?"

"English lit. I used to write, a little. Haven't picked it up again here, but I might." One mouth corner quirked in irony. "Got a whole new bunch of stuff to write about.

Jared smiled in response. "You write?"

"I used to. I haven't in a long time. I like science, too. I like chemistry—making things go boom!" They both laughed, and he continued. "I guess I need to double down on biology this year—I've got a whole new species to learn about. But—hmm. I used to play baseball. I haven't been feeling like I want to do that for a while. But cross country sounds interesting."

"Yeah? I could introduce you to the coach. You could see where you'd fit on the team."

"Yeah, that’d be great, thanks. I'd like that."

The two of them talked a little longer, and then Jensen said, "I probably need to get back to that history. Beaver wants my worksheet before I leave, tonight."

"Oh yeah? What are you working on?"

"How Martin Luther's Ninety-five Theses changed the world," Jensen sounded a little glum.

"Oh, we had that this year. You want any help with it?"

"Naw. I read the material, but thanks. It’s just a bit…" Jensen shrugged

The immediate grin on Jared’s face was infectious, "Yeah, but did you consider how the world would be if the Theses didn't exist? Or if he hadn't posted them at that time?"

"What do you mean?"

Jared stood and gathered the mugs and thermos. "Come on. Bring the cookies, we'll talk it over inside."

Jim poked his head out before he left his study, to find the boys still talking, heads bent over the table and the history book. He walked past with a nod to them both as he headed for the kitchen, hoping Mara had kept a cookie or two for him. He couldn't help smiling, as Jared stood, stretched, and said, "I've got to be going. This was fun, though. Want to do it again?"

"What, you help me with history?" Jensen eased his back in the chair.

"History, math, whatever. Anytime, man. Summer's coming up, and I don't have a job, yet."

"Sure." Jensen sounded cheered at the thought. "I'm here almost every afternoon." He turned in the chair to face Beaver. "If that's okay with Principal Beaver?"

"Sure," Jim had claimed a handful of cookies and a glass of milk for himself. "Glad to have you, Jared." He bit a cookie, smiled at the taste, and disappeared back into his study.

"Well then, I guess I'll see you," Jared said.

"Cool. Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. See you tomorrow. Bye, Jensen."

Jensen finished off his worksheet, signed his name, and tidied up the book, notebook, and loose paper. He tapped a knuckle on the study door. "Principal Beaver? Here's my worksheet."

"Come in. Just leave it there on the desk. You have any questions you want to talk about? I'm thinking a test on the unit Friday afternoon. That sound all right with you?"

"Yessir." The kid nodded. "I'll be ready. Good night."

"'Night, boy."

He was halfway out the door when he turned. "Mr. Beaver? Thanks for asking Jared to come by. I like him."

Jim listened as he left, as Hugo met him on the porch, and the two of them walked away, and he smiled to himself. That went well.

*    *    *

Jared showed up most afternoons, and the two boys discussed and explored their way through Jensen's assignments. Jared had gone through most of the work in previous years, and offered insights Jensen wouldn't have had just learning from the book. It wasn't classroom, exactly, but it was good.

School had been out for a week or two when Jared suggested they walk over, and he could show Jensen the building, get him used to the place so it wouldn't feel so new and unfamiliar when he started classes in the fall. Beaver overheard them, and told them to come by the next afternoon. He would be working in his office and the building would be unlocked, and if anyone said anything he could back them up on having his permission to be there.

Hugo trailed them as they entered the building. Jared took his and Lee's presence—whichever of them happened to be with Jensen that day--for granted, and asked Jensen no questions about them. The corridors smelled pretty much like his old school, Jensen thought. Maybe it was just "school smell," and really, all schools smelled the same. Jared showed him the band room, the chorus room next door, the gym—both the older, smaller one used for PT classes and school day intramural games, and the new, fancy, larger one used for varsity games. They lifted a few weights, both of them attempted to rope climb, but they soon gave it up and moved on. They went by the biology and chem labs, and Jared led the way through the art room. The other classrooms were virtually all alike, no matter if the subject taught was history or foreign language—your choice of Spanish, French, or Latin. They went by the cafeteria, with the lingering scents of spaghetti and vegetable soup, on their way outside, and on to the stadium. They ran a circuit or two of the lap lanes, too lazy to race each other. Jared found a slightly under-inflated football, which they tossed back and forth for a while.

They climbed the bleachers to the top row, and Jensen surveyed the woods and fields, and what he could see of the town, from his vantage point. A tall, skinny kid with pale blond hair walked toward them as they descended the stairs, and Jared threw him a grin. "Hey, Chad."

"Hey losers," Chad responded. "What are you up to?"

"Just showing Jensen around campus." He made perfunctory introductions: "Chad, Jensen. Jensen, this is Chad."

Jensen's body language went wary. Alpha. But Chad reached out and smacked him on the shoulder. "Hi. This loser showing you around school? You gonna start here this fall?"

Jensen nodded, and managed to find his voice. "Y-yeah. Yeah, he is, and yeah, I guess I will be going here in the fall. Good to meet you."

Chad nodded, and they walked together toward an exit, Chad half-turning when Hugo followed them. Jensen introduced him. "This is Hugo. He's with me." Chad exchanged a glance with Jared, and then nodded. "Hi."

"You some kind of celebrity or something?" Chad quirked a brow and glanced over at Hugo.

"Something," Jensen agreed wryly.

"Yeah, dude. He's incognito," Jared snarked and slapped Jensen on the back. He broke into a slow jog over to the outdoor basketball court and scooped up a ball someone left out, bouncing it hard a few times. Air pressure was still good.

"You losers wanna shoot some hoops?"

And just like that the tension bubble Jensen had felt building since the alpha—no, Chad—arrived, eased and he was just any guy he'd have hung out with in his old school. The three of them spent the next hour trying to keep each other from getting the ball through the hoop, and occasionally scoring a basket of their own.

Chad showed up at Mr. Beaver's house after that almost as often as Jared did, or he met them after the schoolwork was done. They walked around town, showing Jensen the sights, telling him the history of the place in stories about growing up in Wolverton, like the time Chad stole candy and Mr. Wasserman had chased and caught him and made him sweep the store at closing for a week. Or the time Jared had made himself sick at an all-you-can-eat special at the ice cream shop, or the time Jenny MacElroy and Tim Dunn had gotten caught making out behind the theater. Or the time the pizza oven at Marco's had caught fire, or the time—

Jensen laughed so much his stomach started to ache when they were around. But more importantly he was gaining background knowledge and familiarity with the town, the people, the pack, and how it all worked.

Chad didn't have a lot to offer toward Jensen's schoolwork. But he was enthusiastic about the cookies Mara usually provided. And Principal Beaver seemed fine with his dining room full of teenagers.

*    *    *

"Alan, I really think you need to come and see this house with us. It's in a town your...advisors have approved, and from all I've been able to find in my research, the school is good. There are lots of the activities that Mackenzie likes, so her preferred extracurriculars will be available. The house is really nice, a little newer than ours, and the finishes all look quite good. I haven't done the HVAC, plumbing and electrical inspections, but on the surface, from what I see, it really does look like the house for us." Donna paused, and then, her voice soft and pleading, "Please come. I need your opinion. I need to know you like it, too."

Alan sighed. He'd been hoping that his wife would see reason, and come house hunting in Wolverton, that he could put his family back together here, where Jensen and Mack would both be safe. But Donna continued to refuse. He didn't understand how he had never known how deep her fear and dislike of werewolves ran.

"Alan? Say something."

"I'll—I'll see if we can get away."

"Just you." She was quick. And Alan was stunned by the confirmation of what he'd been trying to avoid believing--that she wasn't planning on Jensen ever living in the new house. "Alan, please."

"This Saturday?" He managed to croak out over the sudden tightening of his throat.

"Yes!" Her voice brightened when it sounded like he would come.

"Text me the address, and the time you want to meet there. Are you bringing Mack?"

"Of course! She wants to see you, and naturally she has some input into whether or not we want this house."

Mack does, Alan thought. But not Jensen. His heart felt like a stone in his chest.

"So I'll see you there? And—" she paused, uncertain. "You'll tell—our guards will know where we're going? And I assume will be coming too?"

"Donna, you can speak to them yourself, tell them—"

"No. No, I think that's your job. Or, their boss, you know. That Omundson person."

"Donna!"

"I have to go, Alan. I'll see you Saturday." And the line went dead. He set the phone down and dropped his face into his hands. How had he never known how deep her aversion ran? Well, he realized, werewolves had never been a part of their lives, at least he had never known anyone who was were. And then he had to admit that maybe he had, and they just hadn't revealed themselves. He sighed, picking himself up and attempting to cope. Maybe they could talk on Saturday. He wanted to get to the bottom of why his wife could walk away and abandon their son. He doubted that that particular conversation would come easy—if he could get her to open up about it at all.

*    *    *

Jensen headed over to the school one afternoon with Jared and Chad to shoot some hoops. Jensen could tell Chad was downplaying his alpha tendencies, and he appreciated it. But the longer he knew the Murray boy and the more often he saw how Chad acted with other people, Jensen realized it wasn't just for Jensen's benefit. It's the way Chad was with everybody.

As they neared the stadium and the outdoor courts, they saw a kid sitting in the grass, working on something. Jared and Chad called out greetings, and when they got nearer, Jensen saw the kid was holding a sketchpad, and there was a box of colored pencils, a charcoal or two, and a few pastels beside him on the grass. The ground around the kid was littered with torn and discarded sketches. Jared squatted down and picked up some of the loose drawings. "Hey, Trev."

The kid squinted up at Jensen and Chad, silhouetted against the afternoon sun. "Hey, guys."

"This is Jensen," Chad bumped Jensen's shoulder with his own, in a lazy, hands-free sort of point. "He's starting school here this fall."

"Hi, Jensen."

"Hey. What's that you're working on?" Jensen peered over Jared's shoulder, and recognized the curving expanse of the stadium wall, and the colorful panel Trevor had drawn in varying renditions of a theme. "Wow. Are you gonna paint the whole wall?"

"Nah," the kid chuckled. "Just one panel, and I get to pick."

Jensen was impressed. "Wow."

"Yeah. I'm thinking this one, second from the end. What do you guys think?"

They discussed the merits of each of the panels, and wound up agreeing Trev had picked the best one, especially best to show off his design concept. He sorted through his sketches till he found a couple that got his idea across and spread them out for them to look at.

The boys were silent as they studied the sketches. Then Chad said, "Wow. I knew you were talented, dude, but this is some pretty awesome stuff." Jensen murmured agreement. Even in this rough stage Trev’s designs had an elegance and boldness that seemed to jump off the page.

"Too bad you couldn’t do all the panels Trev," Jared contended. "These are great."

"You got anybody helping you with this?" Jensen wanted to know.

"Nah. I didn't want to ask another art student." He made a wry face. "Everybody's got their own ideas, and I'm kind of set on my own."

"I get that," Jensen nodded. "But hey, I've done a little painting—billboard and poster stuff for my old team. I'd be willing to do the labor and stick to your design, if you needed an extra hand."

Trevor regarded him, weighing possible pros and cons of the offer. "Okay, yeah. Maybe," he conceded. "I still have to finalize this and set up an outline and grid, and get the design on the wall before the painting starts. Can I give you a call?" He pulled his phone from his backpack, poised to key in Jensen's number.

"I'm—me and my dad are staying at Ms. Abbott's right now," he told Trevor. "You know, until we find a house in town. You can reach me there."

He glanced at Jared and Chad, who had wandered on toward the court and were playing one-on-one. He muttered, mostly to himself, "Which reminds me, I need a phone."

"What happened to yours?" Trevor's question was just idle conversation, but Jensen swallowed, and took a breath.

"Lost it," he said, and rose to stand. "Good to meet you, Trevor. I'm gonna..." he inclined his head toward the basketball court. "Want to come play?"

Trev grinned in response, but shook his head. "Thanks, but I gotta get home. Nice to meet you, Jensen. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah," Jensen grinned back. "See you," and trotted toward the court.

*    *    *

Alan called the number Omundson had given him, and asked if the alpha had a few minutes for him. "Sure. I'm in all afternoon today."

When Alan arrived, he found Mayor Rhodes in his office, discussing city ordinances. She said hello and started to stand. "We can finish this later."

"No." He waved her back to her seat. "This won't take but a minute. I'm sorry to interrupt."

"Not really interrupting," Tim smiled wryly. "This is an ongoing discussion." Rhodes smothered a grin as he asked, "What can I help you with?"

Alan took a breath. He wasn't actually sure what help he could ask for, but he suspected the local pack wasn't going to be much help with his problem.

"Donna's found a house," he told them. "In Edenville." There was a moment of silence, and then Rhodes spoke.

"So, not in Wolverton, then."

"No." Everyone in the room was aware why Alan's wife was house hunting somewhere else. And he compounded the knowledge. "She's. There's not a bedroom for Jensen."

In spite of his determination to remain stoic, Alan's face crumpled, and his voice faltered. He hid his face in both hands, and Mayor Rhodes laid a firm and comforting hand on his shoulder for a moment.

He got himself under control, sent a grateful glance toward the mayor, took a deep breath and said, in a voice full of confusion and disappointment, "She's never been like this. I never had any idea."

Neither Tim nor the mayor commented, and Alan sat up a little straighter. "I'm going to talk to her this weekend. See if I can get to the bottom of this, and fix this. Fix my family."

Omundson's voice was full of compassion, if not encouragement. "I hope you succeed, Alan. I wish you well."

"Don't worry about Jensen," Rhodes said. "We'll keep an eye on him. And if he doesn't want to stay at Ms. Abbott's," she suggested, "I'll bet Jim wouldn't mind at all if Jensen stayed with him while you're gone."

Alan thanked them. "I'll ask him," he said. "First I have to tell him his mother doesn't want me to bring him with me."

*    *    *

Jensen said he'd be fine by himself at Ms. Abbott's. He hugged his dad early Saturday morning before Alan got into the car. "Give Mack a hug for me. Tell her to call me." His new number was in Alan's phone. Alan nodded and held him extra tight for just a few seconds, climbed in and drove away.

Jensen watched him go, wavering between feeling free and independent of parental supervision, and bereft at being without family. He had given a lot of thought to his mom's previously unsuspected attitude about werewolves. Of course, it had never really come up before— Before Jensen was taken. He honestly couldn't remember meeting anyone in person who was were while he was growing up. Yeah, some movie and TV characters, but not a real life, flesh and blood werewolf. Though he guessed there could have been someone, or several someones. They might have just kept it to themselves. He wondered, not for the first time, if Mom had had some encounter with wolves that had scared her, had left a lasting impression.

Dad's car was out of sight and the dust had settled when Jensen shook off his bout of introspection. He blew out a ragged breath and turned toward Mr. Beaver's house. There was a unit of calc that had been giving him trouble. He'd better go figure that out.

Hugo fell in beside the kid, a quiet, solid source of support. Hugo didn't have any knowledge of Mrs. Ackles, and he understood that some people just couldn't get over their prejudices. But the kid didn't deserve to be shunned and avoided like this. Hugo's mom still expected all her kids home for holiday dinners, and made a fuss over all of them. He couldn't understand a mother who rejected her child.

Sheriff Olsson was just leaving, lingering on the front steps to exchange a few last words with Mr. Beaver.

"And you have witnesses that they've actually been on school grounds? During class time?"

Beaver nodded. "The Padalecki boy, and a couple of others—I'll get you the names, if you want."

"Yeah, text me the list, when you get a chance."

"Sure thing."

The sheriff turned to go, and caught sight of Jensen and Hugo. He nodded at Hugo and smiled at Jensen. "Hey. Jensen, right? How are you settling in?"

"Fine," Jensen answered, cutting his gaze to the principal. "If Mr. Beaver doesn't work me to death with schoolwork."

Beaver snorted and muttered something rude, and Olsson grinned. "Been there, done that, kid. He’s tortured a lot of us here over the years.” With a big grin the sheriff nodded and touched his hat, “Well, I'll leave you to it, then."

The calc assignment was done, and Jensen was reading through the next history assignment when Beaver left his office. He stopped by the table where Jensen usually did his work. "Has anybody told you anything about how the packs were affected by the world wars? Or the Great Depression? Viet Nam?"

"No sir." He had never considered that historical events might have had a different influence on werewolves, and their packs.

"You got plans for supper?"

"Just—back to Ms. Abbotts."

"Stay," Beaver invited.

"You sure it's okay with Mara?"

"Oh, she'll love the chance to feed a teenager. Hugo too. You go ask him? And I'll tell her."

*    *    *

It was just the first of a series of conversations about werewolves in history, how packs came out of the forests to live on the outskirts of human settlements, drawn by warmth and light of the fire and becoming part of the community, a wider pack. How they became citizens in behavior and in name. And, too, those times when humans discovered werewolves among them, how they were driven out, hunted, or taken prisoner and tortured and executed in the very towns and villages they had helped to build, by neighbors they had believed to be friends.

How wolves had kept their nature a secret when living among humans, and that many had chafed at the necessity, and had withdrawn from human towns and settlements, had created and built their own, modeled somewhere between the human civic example and the wild packs of their ancestors.

There was system, custom, and ceremony in werewolves' history, and living apart from humans had given wolves the opportunity to keep those customs, amend and change the ways that no longer benefited the way of life of towns and villages. But also the chance to practice and honor their history.

The usually taciturn Hugo had become quite animated as he joined in the discussion that first supper, showing Jensen a whole other side to the big alpha. After that he, or Lee, whoever was present during the following conversations, contributed their own knowledge and memories. Jared, and even Chad, joined the others at the table when they were present, either picking up stories they hadn't heard before, or adding bits of different versions they knew to the history being told. A lot of the talks ran late into the night, like that first time, when Beaver thought it was foolish and a bit unkind to send Jensen back to the bed and boarding house to an empty room when there were bedrooms made up but unoccupied in his house. So Jensen, and his guards, grew used to staying over, at least some of the time.

*    *    *

Alan returned from his first house hunt with Donna and Mack still troubled by his wife's refusal to accept Jensen back into the family. Alan didn't say much about his discussion with Donna about Jensen, about werewolves in general. She didn't want to talk about it, changed the subject, and when he tried to persist she got angry and blew up at him.

Mackenzie avoided them, flinching when their voices rose, sidling out of the room, eyes wide, head down. Donna didn't seem to notice, wrapped firm in her righteous principles, but Alan couldn't bear to see the stress put on Mack by their arguing. So he stopped. He wasn't finding answers anyway. Maybe there was another way. He backed off, while he was there, and tried to get back to normal.

Mack clung to him when he left. "I wish you didn't have to go, Daddy."

"I know, baby. But Jensen needs me, too."

She nodded, face buried against his shoulder. "I miss him. I want him back. I want our family back, the way we're supposed to be." She raised a teary face. "I hate her. Why is she being this way?"

"I don't know. But if I find out, I'll let you know. And I'm not giving up, I'm going to see what I can do about it. This isn't like your mother." He wiped away the tears with a broad thumb. "Try and be nice to her," he told her. "She's not happy, either, and she needs somebody to be there for her." He kissed her on the forehead and stepped back. She nodded, and he looked up to where his wife stood on the porch. He smiled and sent her a little wave before getting into the car and driving away.

When he got back to Wolverton, he filled Jensen in on everything Mack had said she had going on in her life, and all the things he'd promised her he'd tell Jensen. Jensen took it all in with an occasional grin, even a chuckle or two. Donna hadn't sent Jensen any messages. And Jensen didn't ask. He was devastated on some level, of course. But he felt like somehow he deserved it, because he was a freak now, and not even his mother could love a freak. Alan didn't know what to do. He hadn't found a house for him and Jensen in town. He stopped looking when Donna made plain she wouldn't be coming to Wolverton. He and Jensen were still living at Ms. Abbott's bed and boarding house. He was working remotely from their bedroom, and his boss was fine with that, as long as he got the job done.

Summer was flying past, Jensen continued to complete assignments and pass tests. He had moved up nearly two whole grades in the weeks since he'd been studying at Mr. Beaver's. If that kept up, he might even earn placement in the class he'd been supposed to graduate with. Aside from schoolwork, Jensen continued to spend days with Jared and Chad, and to help Trevor with the mural. Sometimes Chad and Jared helped, as well, at least until they started goofing around and Trev got upset and worried they were going to mess up his design, and shooed them away.

Jared's mom asked him to bring Jensen home for dinner—Alan, too. They felt welcome immediately. Mr. Padalecki, "Call me Gerry," drafted Alan to help with the kebabs and racks of ribs on the grill, discussing teenaged sons, and trends in housing prices and values, hiring contractors for repairs and remodeling, and types of homeowners' insurance.

Mrs. Padalecki—"It's Sherri, hon"—had both Jared and Jensen, plus Lee, when he wasn't hanging around the grill with the dads, ferrying plates, flatware and glasses from the kitchen to the table on the deck, along with sides of potato salad, green beans and baked beans, trays of pickles and raw vegetables, ears of corn for the grill, a basket of bread, a big bowl of chips, chilled bottles of beer and cans of soda and a big pitcher of iced tea. A huge stack of paper napkins took up the remaining space on the table's surface, and they all sat down to eat. Talk and laughter lasted well after homemade ice cream and chocolate layer cake, and coffee, for those who wanted it. Goodbyes were cheerful, with promises to come again.

"Nice people," Alan said, on their walk back to Ms. Abbott's.

"Yeah," Jensen answered. "Easy to see how Jared turned out so cool."

Comments are like fuel for the soul || Master Post | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

Comments

[anniespinkhouse.livejournal.com]

Of course Jared turned out cool, now for him to remind Jensen that he's kinda cool too.