Author: Restive Nature
Genre: Crossover
Type: WiP
Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural
Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.
Story Rating: PG-13 up to NC-17 for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)
Chapter Rating: PG-13 for language.
Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.
Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)
Summary: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.
When It Changes
Chapter Nine
All Fired Up
“Grab us a few cans of soup while you’re back there Max!” John called as he hauled the basket of groceries onto the counter. He smiled at Mrs. Gallagher as she began to ring up the purchases. Sam and Dean were lounging at the front of the store, waiting to head home.
“Did you have a good trip?” Mrs. Gallagher asked of John as she keyed the prices onto her till. “Max didn’t say where you were going?”
“We just took a camping trip,” John answered with a shrug. It seemed a little odd for a cover story, since it was October in Montana, which meant that the winds howled continuously all month long.
‘You must be hard core campers then?” Mrs. Gallagher laughed. She glanced up as the door bell rang as another customer stepped through. “Good afternoon Mrs. Kirkegaard.” Neither woman noticed the three Winchester’s spines stiffen at the mention of that name.
“Good afternoon Molly,” Mrs. Kirkegaard returned. She turned to her right to pick up a basket and was confronted by a lanky youth that she barely recognized. He wasn’t one of her former students, that much she was sure of. Before she could say anything, he excused himself and stepped out of her way, moving to stand near what she assumed was his older brother. Thinking nothing of the incident, Mrs. Kirkegaard set about to do her shopping.
Max quickly scanned through the group of soup cans presented on the top shelf. She knew them all by heart, since she had stocked this section of the store for Mrs. Gallagher a few times. But she wasn’t sure what John and the boys would like. She decided to go with their old favorites of chicken noodle and clam chowder. If they didn’t like it, they could pick out something else. She never noticed her teacher staring at her from the end of the aisle in consternation.
Upon arriving home and quickly stowing their gear away, the Winchester’s settled down to heating up the clam chowder that Max had picked out and going over their weekend. The hunt had been successful. John had researched well, with Sam’s help and knew precisely where to go to find the bones of the vengeful spirit they were banishing. The drive had taken all of the morning and some of the afternoon. Once they’d arrived at the haunted home, they’d confronted the spirit, to make sure it existed. There was a minor scuffle, as the spirit was simply one that tended to throw things around. The murder that had happened was more accidental than wrathful vengeance. Apparently, an old owner of the house got in the way of a flying hearth stone that had struck his temple, causing an inter-cranial bleed that hadn’t been attended to in time, resulting in his death. Sam and Max had been caught in the crossfire before John could get them out of there. The spirit, almost as if it had realized that the Winchester’s were there to put a stop to its antics, had thrown an armchair across the sitting room. It caught the younger kids from behind as they tried to get out of the way. As a result, Sam’s lower back was bruised, while Max sported a bruise across her left ribcage. After retreating from the house, Dean had checked them over, pronouncing them bruised but okay, nothing broken. And then the family had set about finding the old crypt that housed the original owners of the house. It was much easier simply pulling the coffin out of the crypt shelves, than digging it up.
The salting and burning of the old man’s (as it turned out) bones was accomplished easily and their job was done. They’d camped out for the night and the next morning, after breakfast at a café, were on their way home. John was happy that they’d had an easy trip. He certainly didn’t want the kids to miss school. That simply led to too many questions. But now, as they sat, enjoying the rich creaminess of the comforting soup, they talked over what they could have done differently to prevent the injuries Max and Sam had sustained. They went over with Max, again the importance of not telling people about this. She understood, since the current owners of the haunted house had been in full denial about what was going on in their home, even though they’d lived with firsthand knowledge for almost five months.
The next morning, as she got up and began getting ready for school, Max checked the bruising along her ribs. She’d told Dean not to worry about it the day before, worried that he’d notice how faded the bruise would already be after one night’s recovery. It wasn’t something she had a ready alibi for, this quickness with which she healed. How could she tell the Winchester males that she was a scientific freak with advanced healing genes built into her system?
She reached for a set of jeans and shimmied into them, trying to decide what shirt she wanted to wear. She still didn’t have a lot to choose from, even though her wardrobe had certainly expanded from what she’d started out with. Every few weeks over the summer, she would stop in at a second hand store and add one or two pieces that she liked, sometimes even picking things out for the boys. Whether or not they bought them was up to them. So far she hadn’t ever picked out anything for John. She smiled as she chose the first sweatshirt she’d picked out all those months ago. It had a comfortable feeling to it and put her into a great frame of mind.
John was glad to see that the weekend hadn’t taken a heavy toll on the kids. He realized that driving around most of the weekend could tire a kid out, but the trio sitting at the table, waiting for him to grab the milk for their cereal, were in fine spirits. Sam was looking forward to driving into town that evening to pick out something to wear for Halloween. Max seemed indifferent, but then complained that they had to dress up for the school party. Dean was teasing them about making them walk around town by themselves, since he didn’t want to be seen with little kids. A short tickle fight ensued, with Sam and Max ganging up on their older brother. John put a stop to it by thunking down the milk carton.
“So,” he said conversationally as he pulled up his own chair. “We’ll all meet at the garage by four.”
“And bring the car, don’t forget your checkbook and wallet, we’ll eat in town,” Dean finished for him quickly as he took his turn pouring milk into his cereal. “We got it Dad.”
“Just making sure,” John grunted, taking the milk from his eldest. The family ate their food at a slightly leisurely pace. John had to be to work the same time the kids had to be to school. So most days they were able to leave the house at the same time. They did so today, with John locking up. Even though they had been living in a small town for a while now, some habits, he wasn’t about to break.
The morning started off well for Max. They were beginning a new lesson in math and she was looking forward to having something new to do. She knew that she’d probably still be ahead, but at least it would be slightly more challenging. She occupied herself during composition after she finished her work, by writing a note to Justine telling her an edited version of their weekend camping trip and asking how her friend’s weekend went.
She gave Justine the note as they went out for recess. But before she could get Justine’s reply, Mrs. Kirkegaard came and found her on the swing set and asked, even more politely and stiffly than usual, if she could talk to Maxine in the classroom. Wondering what fresh new problem she and the teacher were going to have, Max followed her teacher back to class. There, they spent a confusing ten minutes going over Max’s weekend. At first she was unsure what the teacher was trying to get at, with mentions of secrets and parents who meant well. Then Mrs. Kirkegaard told her straight out that she had seen Max at the store on Sunday night. The woman stared pointedly as Max inwardly cursed. The old bat must have seen the bruise on her ribs and assumed the worst. At least the worst in her world. So Max just as stubbornly played innocent and stared back at the woman without revealing anything. Hearing the recess bell chime, the woman gave a defeated sigh and told Max to return to her seat.
Max hoped desperately that that was the end of it. But it was to no avail when after lunch, she was called down to the principal’s office. And Mrs. Kirkegaard, just like a prison warden was two steps behind her.
Sam had no idea that anything was going on. It wasn’t unusual for the secretary to enter the classroom to talk to his teacher for a moment. It was a little less usual that the principal did so. It was kind of weird that they went out to the hallway to talk, but he figured it was none of the class’ business. So he was a little surprised when Ms. Fowler came back into the room and asked Sam if he could go on down to the principal’s office. Sam shut his books and rose from his seat, a feeling of dread rising up in his gut.
It was the same for Dean. He had no inkling that anything was wrong, much like Sam. But unlike his baby brother, he caught on much quicker. Especially when his science teacher exited the room to talk to the secretary. Mr. Burton glanced directly at him and then shook his head. He listened to the secretary for a moment and then nodded. When he returned to the room, Dean was already packing his stuff up and just nodded when he was told he needed to go to the principals’ office. He was out of his seat, making plans as he walked. The first order of business was to find out exactly what the teachers were upset about, though he could hazard a guess and then get his father. Looked like they were about to skip town.
He met Sammy coming down the hall from the opposite direction, just outside the office. He waited until his brother came to his side to whisper quickly, “any idea what’s going on?”
Sam shook his head. “Do you think they have Max?” Before Dean could answer, they heard the girl in the inner office belonging to the principal.
“You can’t tell Sammy!” she cried out. “He’ll get mad at me!”
The brothers exchanged glances and moved together into the outer office. They heard a low voice and assumed the principal was saying something. They walked as quietly as possible to avoid detection for a few minutes. The principal said something else and straining to hear, Dean caught the end of the question. “…what happened?” He cringed, hoping that Max would remember their Dad’s lecture from this morning.
“I had a bad dream,” Max explained in a quavering voice. “And I didn’t want to wake up my dad. He had to work on our car all day and then fix us dinner and he was tired. So… I went into Sammy’s room.” Dean and Sam shared a wondering glance, trying to figure out where her little story went.
“And what happened?” the principal asked again, his words ringing loud and clear, though eh hadn’t raised his voice.
“I climbed onto the bed,” Max admitted after a moment, her voice the perfect mixture of relief and consternation. “And Sammy rolled over and hit me in the head. Hard!”
“He hit you in the head?” another voice asked, this one shriller. Both boys recognized Max’s teacher. “Not your side?”
“No!” Max denied hotly. “He hit me in the head with his elbow. So I kicked him. In the bum! But you can’t tell Sammy! He told me not to go in his room. He’ll hate me!” Dean almost burst out laughing at the indignation the little girl managed to muster. He’d heard enough and he grabbed the phone at the desk, there for the use of students and guests.
John was busy with an actual engine repair when a coworker called out that he had a phone call. “Can you take a message Rick?” he called back. “I’ve just about got this damn thing apart!”
“Yeah hang on,” Rick called back. After listening a moment he put the phone to his chest. “It’s Dean!” he called again. “Something about one of the kids being hurt.” Rick swore then that he’d never seen a person move so fast. John instantly dropped whatever he was doing and was heading for the car parked at the side of the building. Snapping his gaping mouth shut, Rick pulled the phone back up to his face. “Hey Dean, I think your Dad is on his way.”
John made it to the school in three minutes flat. He was storming through the hallways, not caring that people were staring at him. He rounded the corner into the office and realized that he needed to calm down, if the startled fearful look of the secretary was anything to go by.
“Sorry,” he apologized randomly as he approached the desk. “My son Dean Winchester called me. He said one of the kids was hurt.”
The secretary licked at her lips. She knew it wasn’t her place to inform Mr. Winchester of what was going on. This matter needed to be handled properly and that was a job for the principal. She nodded and rose from her seat and walked over to knock on the principal’s slightly ajar door. She stuck her head inside. “Mr. Thompson, the children’s father is here.”
“Let him in,” Mr. Thompson told her immediately. John didn’t wait for her to repeat the message, but slipped into room. He mentally cursed as he took in the situation. The principal was holding Sam’s shirt up, looking over the bruising, while Dean hovered, his expression murderous. Max was cowering in the corner. The principal turned to the newcomer. “Mr. Winchester?” he began politely. “Did you know about this?” he asked, gesturing to the line of bruising. John glanced quickly at Dean, whose arms were crossed. The older teen gave his father a quick shake of his head no. So John followed along, playing dumb.
“No, I didn’t,” he said, trying his best to sound confused. “What happened son?”
Sam turned his head. “I don’t know. Remember when I said my back was sore yesterday? I thought I’d just slept on it wrong.” John nodded and turned confused eyes back to Thompson. The man shook his head, trying to hide a grin.
“From what your daughter told me, she kicked her brother while he was asleep, because he had hit her in the head,” Mr. Thompson related. John turned in Max’s direction, but the little girl wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“Max is that true?” he asked gently. She took a moment, and then nodded miserably. Sam exploded, yanking his shirt back down.
“See Dad!” he half shouted. “This is why I need a lock on my door! She keeps coming in there without permission.” Max jumped up from her chair then.
“Well you keep taking my books!” she yelled back. “And you never give them back. And they’re mine, not yours!”
“They’re not yours,” Sam sneered. “You borrowed them from the library.”
“Same difference,” Dean interrupted in a tired voice, conveying to the adults that he’d been through this before. “They’re Max’s responsibility Sammy. You know that.”
“Well she deliberately took the book that I was going to check out,” Sam tried to defend himself hotly, but John put a hand on his son’s shoulder.
“That’s enough,” John said softly. Sam threw his father a frustrated glance, while Max looked on triumphantly.
“Well, that seems to settle this mystery,” Mr. Thompson decided, but before he continue, Mrs. Kirkegaard, who’d been regarding the proceedings suspiciously, spoke up.
“Be that as it may, Mr. Thompson,” she began superciliously, “that doesn’t explain the bruises I saw on Maxine.”
“What bruises?” the entire Winchester family asked in unison. Both Thompson and Kirkegaard looked slightly taken aback at the universal chorus.
“Why the ones across Maxine’s ribs,” she stated, glaring at John.
“I don’t have any bruises,” Max denied quickly.
“Yes you do,” Mrs. Kirkegaard argued. She reached for the child’s shirt and Max danced back away from her. “Now stop lying Maxine,” the teacher chided her. Even though John knew that Max was indeed lying, his temper began to flare anew at the old woman’s attitude. He was about to speak when the old woman reached out and latched onto Max’s arm. “Quit being a troublemaker Maxine Winchester!” the woman half shouted. She nearly got the shirt again as Max tried to twist away from her.
“Let me go!” the child shrieked. John could almost feel his muscles vibrating as he tensed, ready to spring at the woman manhandling the little girl. The vibrations were growing around the room and he realized that Dean and Sam were in exactly the same boat he was, but the thunderous voice of the principal precipitated their actions.
“Mrs. Kirkegaard!” he roared. “Let her go!” The older woman, stunned at the tone of her employer’s voice, loosened a fraction and Max squirmed free. The child darted behind her eldest brother.
John and Sam moved to guard the child. Mr. Thompson moved forward and cornered the older woman. “Mrs. Kirkegaard, would you please go wait for me in the teacher’s lounge?” The woman looked around at the angry faces, all directed at her and swallowed heavily. She nodded and left the room, her head held high, though it was wobbling suspiciously. Mr. Thompson waited until she’d left the room and the door had clicked shut behind her. He turned back towards John and gestured for him to take a seat, even as he moved around to sit at his desk. He waited until the family had relaxed. Laying his hands on his desk, he leaned forward to address John.
“Mr. Winchester,” he began, “Mrs. Kirkegaard came to me this morning with a serious charge. That Max had been abused in some sort of manner. She told me that she had seen bruises on Max’s side last evening. Do you know anything about this?”
“No I don’t,” john denied, even as plans began to formulate in his mind. There wasn’t really any way they could avoid this. Max may have been able to outmaneuver them when it came to Sam’s bruises, but how could they explain hers. He glanced at the little girl and she winked up at him. He wasn’t sure if he felt better or not. The only thing he could think of was that he needed to get his family out of there before the Department of Children and Family services was called in.
Mr. Thompson turned to Max. “Young lady, do you have a bruise on your side?” Max shook her head no. “Can you show me?” She shook her head more vehemently. Dean took that opportunity to jump in.
“She doesn’t trust strangers Mr. Thompson,” he defended hotly. He rested one hand on his sister’s shoulder. Mr. Thompson looked down at the girl’s bowed head and then to John for explanation.
“Her mother died this past February,” John started, going off the story they’d concocted. “Since I wasn’t there to take custody of her immediately, and there was no one else, they had to put her with a foster family. It wasn’t a good situation.”
Understanding dawned on the principal’s face and his tone softened considerably when he spoke again to Max. “All right Max. I can understand that. But we need to make sure that you are okay now. Could you talk to the school nurse, just to let us know for sure that you aren’t hurt?” Max appeared indecisive and Thompson pressed on. “Mrs. Kirkegaard has made a serious allegation about your family. We need to know the truth so that we can take care of you in the best way possible.”
John’s heart began to sink when Max looked up and nodded. They were in for it now. The nurse was sure to see the bruises. Mr. Thompson spared John a sympathetic glance and then rose from his desk to take Max from the room and down the hall to the nurse’s office. As soon as they were gone, Dean and Sam both began to speak at once.
“We’ve got to go Dad,” Dean huffed.
“There’s no way she’ll miss Max’s bruise,” Sam chimed in.
“How are we going to explain it?” Dean demanded, thinking rapidly, just as John was doing.
“She fell off Sammy’s bed after she kicked him?” he asked of his sons. Dean shook his head.
“She would have included that in her story,” he reasoned out.
“Maybe something on our camping trip?” Sam wondered. “Maybe she fell when we were hiking?”
“Shh!” John hushed quickly, hearing returning footsteps. “Just say nothing for now.”
Mr. Thompson returned and gave the males a tight smile. “She’s talking to Mrs. Shaw right now.” He resumed his seat and shook his head tiredly. “I remember when my kids were that age,” he smiled, gesturing at Sam. “They fought like cats and dogs.” John nodded cautiously but the principal said nothing more. The silence stretched out between them, growing more uncomfortable by the second. Finally, Max and the nurse returned to the room. The nurse stood in the doorway and smiled broadly at the Winchester’s. She then gestured for Mr. Thompson to join her. He did so quickly, again shutting the door behind himself.
“Someone’s going to get fired!” Max sing-songed quietly. As one, the Winchester males turned to Max. She smiled conspiratorially at them and raised the hem of her sweatshirt. All three of their eyes bugged a little at the smooth, unbruised expanse of her skin. “I heal fast,” she giggled softly.
“Oh man,” Dean sighed as he moved forward to touch her rib. He knew that there had been one hell of a bruise there two days before. She flinched a little and he glanced up at her face. “You okay?”
“My ribs still hurt,” she whispered back, pushing her shirt back down. “But I didn’t tell her that. Besides, she just looked, didn’t touch.”
John nodded as relief flooded through him. A massive mess and inquisition had been averted by the girl he was really starting to regard as a daughter. Mr. Thompson chose that moment to return and he looked al business. The pose he assumed this time was quite authoritative and John stiffened up his spine.
“Mr. Winchester, I will tell you in confidence,” he paused to include the kids in his stare, meaning that they should keep silent about this, “that this is not the first time we’ve had trouble with Mrs. Kirkegaard. We’ve had complaints from students, parents and other colleagues about her behavior. Ms. Fowler informed me of an incident she witnessed this past Friday on the playground regarding your daughter. And what I saw in this office has convinced me that I can not allow Mrs. Kirkegaard to continue teaching in my school.” John nodded. The principal turned then to regard Max.
“Miss Winchester,” he spoke softly, leaning towards her. “you did the right thing in not allowing Mrs. Kirkegaard to manhandle you. It is something that we completely discourage at our school. I want you to know though, that if anyone at anytime ever tries that again, you need to tell someone immediately.” He gestured at her family. “Your family, me, the nurse. We’re all here to make sure that your okay and protect you.” Max widened her eyes and nodded slowly. “Okay,” Mr. Thompson turned back to John.
“Mr. Winchester, we’re going to have to cal a special school board meeting to discuss how this situation is going to be handled. If you would like to attend, that can certainly be arranged.” He would have gone on, but John forestalled him.
“I think you’ve got matters well in hand,” he complimented the other man softly. “You’ve assured me that this will be dealt with.”
“Well there is the question of you pressing charges on your daughter’s behalf,” Mr. Thompson said quietly. John was startled. He never even thought about that. But he shook his head. That sort of thing would garner unwanted attention on his family. He needed to keep them below the radar.
“She didn’t really hurt me,” Max protested. Se turned to John. “I don’t think she has anything else to do but teach. If she can’t do that…”
“That’ll be punishment enough,” john concluded for her. In unison, they turned back to Mr. Thompson. He looked relieved beyond belief.
“All right,” he sighed and stood up. John followed and they shook hands. He turned to the boys. “It’s getting late enough that school will be over. Why don’t you children collect your bags and quit early. You have special permission for today only.”
“Yes sir!” Sam and Dean responded with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
“And I’d better get busy finding a substitute teacher for your class,” Mr. Thompson said to Max. She smiled and nodded and then followed her father out the door, calling her goodbye, just like the rest of them.
Leo Thompson watched the Winchester’s walk out of the office and followed behind to watch them walk towards the high school to retrieve Dean’s books first. John had one arm around the girl and was laughing at something she’d said. She wrapped an arm around her father’s waist and thanked her Daddy. He sighed. It was rare that one found a tightly knit, fiercely protective family such as the Winchester’s. He’d had some suspicions confirmed this afternoon about how that bond had been formed and he knew that not many people would be willing to pay that price.
Chapter Ten
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