Chapter Text
Peter Pan
The summer of Dean's fifteenth year he met Peter Pan. The Winchester family, consisting of himself, Sam, his younger brother, and John, their father, had moved to Springfield before school was out because John had transferred to the regional office. He told them it was because of more money and promotion, but Dean knew it was because of his drinking. John was not discreet when it came to indulging.
Sam had just turned eleven when John announced the move. Both were upset at having to pull up roots again. They had moved six times in the last ten years. Sam had not known home for longer than a couple of years. With both of them in school, it made it even harder. Sam always had a way of making friends though, Dean struggled to get to know anyone. It was not because he was shy or socially inept, it was he was afraid they would have to move again. So he kept to himself not wanting the pain of losing friends.
The last two weeks of school found the boys unpacking and setting up the house. They had a routine by this time. Kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms, and the living room last. This time they were in a four-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath, two-story on the outskirts of town. It was not the best neighborhood; the subdivision was one of the older ones. Most of the houses were run-down but their yards were neat. There was only one or two that seemed suspect. All in all, not horrible.
Their third week in their new home found the brothers exploring the town. Springfield was not big enough to be called a city but big enough to sport two high schools, several popular fast-food chains, half a dozen bookstores, three major grocery/big box stores, two libraries, and at least six parks. The closest park was a medium-sized one with rundown but serviceable playground equipment and a large pond complete with ducks. Sam and Dean enjoyed walking over and hanging out on days John was too inebriated to deal with.
Sam met a boy named Steve about his own age; they played most days. Steve lived just four houses down from them and Sam was over there as much as he was at home. Steve's parents were nice and were glad their son had a friend. Dean was happy for his brother, Sam needed friends.
One night at the end of June Dean was laying in bed trying to go to sleep. Sam was over at Steve's house for a sleepover and John was passed out in front of the TV. They had been lucky so far, new moves always had a grace period. The honeymoon phase he had heard it called when things were new and going well. Dean was glad whatever it was called, he always slept better. Currently, though he was staring at the ceiling watching the shadows move in the moonlight when something happened.
Dean had had his window open to catch a breeze. It was not too hot yet, but getting there; John was not about to turn on the air conditioning until the fourth of July. A huge shadow blocked the window and dropped from view, followed by a very soft thump which almost was covered up by a barking dog. Dean sat up quickly and grabbed the bat beside his bed.
“Whoever the fuck is in my room better get out before I bash your brains in!”
Dean was shaking inside, outwardly he was stone cold. This was not his first home invasion. He could hear the person breathing but nothing else. He slowly slid off the bed opposite the window and made it to the light switch two steps away. He was ready but the intruder was not.
Fricking great, a homeless freak.
A skinny guy with greasy black hair, worn out, torn clothes, and bare feet crouched by the window shielding his eyes from the bright light. He had on a blackish, grey tee and barely green stained cargo pants held up with what looked like a brown extension cord. He was dirty and looked as scared as Dean felt.
“I said, get the fuck out! We ain't got nothing worth stealing unless you like Good Will rejects.” Dean puffed up and tried to look bigger than he was. He had had a growth spurt this past year but he still was only five foot eight. He hoped he was not done growing. He watched as the guy slowly stood and leaned against the window frame, relaxed as if he hadn't a care.
What the hell? This is the part where they run.
He was about Dean’s height, maybe an inch or so taller, and he looked older, two or three years, maybe more. The guy’s black hair was long flopping over into his eyes and covered most of his face, just touching the stretched-out collar of his shirt. His face, what was visible, sported a scar from his chin up his left cheek disappearing under the hair. It was not neat either, it was jagged and ugly, shining pink and white against his tanned skin. Whatever made that had to hurt like a son of a bitch. The guy casually pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and put it to his chapped lips.
Shaking his head to clear out the weird thoughts, Dean threatened once again.
“Get out or I’ll bash your brains in.”
“No. And, no, you won't.”
The guy’s voice was deep and gravelly. Dean nearly dropped the bat at the sound. His own voice was changing, though deep, nowhere near the ocean floor levels of this guy.
“Yes, I will!”
“If you were, you would have done it already.”
Dean was now pissed. How dare this guy say he would not follow through. He made to advance when the guy spoke again.
“How did you know I was here? I barely made a sound.” The guy slouched as he dug around his pockets.
“What?” Dean was taken aback by the question. “I saw your shadow.” Regaining his composure, he demanded, “Who are you, and want do you want?” Dean was getting impatient.
“Me?" He smiled. "I'm Peter Pan and I have come to find my shadow," he said and winked. He laughed, striking a match, and lighting up.
“Like hell. Don't smoke that in here.”
“Sure thing, Wendy.” The guy chuckled and moved to sit on the window sill. He blew smoke outside but made no move to leave. “How long have you been here?”
Dean noticed that he let the bat sag. He re-hitched his weapon and approached a few steps to the intruder, but leaving the bed between them, ignoring the question.
“What the actual fuck man? Why are you not leaving or attacking or… what? Just get the hell out of here.”
Dean did not know what to do. Should he force him out, call his dad, what? He could easily push him out the window, although Dean knew enough not to get too close until he knew more. Some people had weird, desperate strength.
“I thought this place was empty.” He took a drag and looked out the window. Another chuckle escaped as he blew out smoke. “Huh, don't know how I missed that tank out front.”
Dean frowned but realized he meant their car. He lowered the bat a bit.
“So you are not here to rob and/or kill us… or kidnap me?”
The guy laughed again, harder this time, throwing back his head, causing his hair to fall away from his face and smoke to come out of his nose.
“Hell no. That's funny. No, I came for my shadow... and a shower.” He was openly smiling a big toothy grin. Dean caught sight of another ugly, ragged scar over his right eye.
“Shower? You break into houses and shower? Are you a pervert?”
“No,” he looked offended at the suggestion. “I just go into the empty ones. Like I said, I didn't know you were here.”
Dean watched the guy finish his cigarette and stub it out on his pants. He shoved the butt into one of his pockets.
“Why-” Dean did not get to finish his question.
“You know, if you don't want people just dropping in, you should close and lock your windows.”
“I didn't think I had to on the second floor.” Dean was tired of this guy's attitude. He was not scared or intimidated like he was supposed to be.
The guy laughed again.
“I suppose not. That's another thing that should have clued me in, this window was never open before. By the way, the toilet up here tends to run, so just jiggle the handle. Though you might want to change out the flapper.”
Dean now had the bat resting on his shoulder. This guy was too weird and it should have bothered him more that this guy had been in his house enough to know about the plumbing.
“Good to know, thanks. So, not robbing? Not kidnapping?”
“Yeah, no, not my style. Unless you want to come with me to Neverland, Wendy?”
“Ha ha. Stop calling me that.”
“What else should call you?”
Dean stared at the guy, who stared back. They stood there like that for several minutes before Dean broke the contest. The guy's blue eyes were intense and vacant at the same time. And he did not blink enough. Unnerving.
“Don't call me anything. Leave.”
“Rude, Wendy.”
“ You broke into my house.”
“Touché.” The guy stood and turned towards the window, with a backward glance at Dean he said, “Thanks for my shadow and the near heart attack. See ya later, Wendy.”
He gave Dean a parting wink and was out before Dean recovered. He ran to the window and watched as the guy shimmied down the tree just outside his room. The guy swung over the fence and was heading down the street. Dean did not know how to feel about what just happened.
Afraid? Mad? Scared? Angry? Should he shut the window? Would that crazy head come back?
Leaving the window open, Dean turned off the light and laid back down. Confused was what he ended up with. He got no ill vibes from the weird guy. He did seem rather surprised to see Dean in the room, so maybe it was just a random thing. Dean fell asleep thinking about it.
***