Title: Family Matters (1/1)
Author: Dannyblue
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG, mostly for language.
Characters/Pairings: Dean, OFC. But don’t be scared. The story is Gen.
Spoilers: Takes place pre-series.
Summary: Dean gets a disturbing call from a relative.
Word Count: 3,000 words.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, or any of its characters.

Dean had just stepped out of the shower when he heard his cell phone ring.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he draped one of the motel’s threadbare towels around his hips. Anyone else could’ve ignored the ringing phone, and maybe called whoever back after they’d dried off, gotten dressed, had a cup of coffee. But, when a Winchester’s phone rang, ignoring it wasn’t an option.

So, half naked and dripping wet, Dean threw open the bathroom door and hurried into the next room. As he made his way to the table where his cell rested, the short list of possible callers ran through his mind. Dad? Or, maybe…Sam?

That last name made his heart leap with hope. Then crash as he remembered he had a better chance of winning the lottery than getting a call from his little brother.

Ignoring the pang of hurt that had settled in his chest, he answered the phone.

“Hello.” Dean listened for a moment, and his eyes flew wide as he recognized the familiar voice. “Aunt Kathleen?”

For the next few moments, he was inundated by a flood of words. His aunt talked so fast, he only understood about half of what she said.

But one thing came through loud and clear.

Something had happened to Beth.

Dean’s mouth set into a grim line. His hazel eyes grew cold as ice.

“Don’t worry, Aunt Kathleen. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7

The atmosphere in the dimly-lit hallway was dark and grim.

"Thank you so much for coming, Dean," Kathleen Winchester said. She turned worried eyes towards the closed bedroom door. "I didn’t want to bother you, but I just didn't know what else to do."

"Hey." Dean rested one hand on his aunt's shoulder. "It’s not a problem."

While Kathleen still looked worried, she also looked relieved. Like some heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "She knew you were coming, so why don't you just go on in. I'll be waiting in the kitchen. You still like your burgers medium rare?"

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean smiled. That was Aunt Kathleen. When she was worried, she went into action. Cooking. Cleaning. Changing the oil in her car. It didn’t matter what it was as long as she was doing something.

“Okay. Well, take your time.” With another troubled glance at the door, she headed down the stairs.

The moment she was gone, the anger Dean had kept hidden for her benefit returned full force.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was just that this was Bethie. Little Beth, who made him feel like a giant when she stood next to him. Who wouldn’t harm a fly. Knowing someone had hurt her made him want to hit something. But the last thing his cousin needed to see was the anger churning in his eyes. So he put on a sedate, neutral mask and knocked.

"Come in."

Dean opened the door. And froze.

Elizabeth Marie Winchester, Beth to family and friends, was sitting on her bed. Her back was pressed against the headboard, and a text book rested on her lap. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, a few stray strands sticking out in different directions.

"Hi, Dean," she said, her smile wide and welcoming. But it vanished too soon, replaced by a wince of pain. Understandable since Beth Winchester--sweet, gentle, somewhat timid Beth Winchester--had a black eye.

In an instant, any thoughts Dean had of hiding his anger flew out the window.

"What's his name? Where does he live? And how much of his ass do you want kicked?"

This made Beth smile again. And wince again. Which made Dean wince in sympathy. When you had a black eye, any movement of your facial muscles could hurt like a bitch.

"His name is Milton Gaines," Beth said.

"Milton?" Dean exclaimed, eyes widening in disbelief. "What kind of self-respecting bully is named Milton?"

Beth shrugged. "It's not like it’s held him back any."

"Huh," Dean grunted in agreement. "That’s probably why he became a bully in the first place. Name like that, you either get stepped on or do the stepping." He shook his head. “Parents should think before doing stuff like that to their kids.”

Closing the door, Dean stepped further into the room. Looking around, he was relieved to see very little pink, and only a few stuffed animals. There was a huge poster of what he assumed was a boy band plastered on one wall. But Beth was only fourteen. She’d grow out of it as she matured and her taste improved. If he had anything to say about it.

“Now”—Dean rubbed his hands together—“about that ass-kicking…”

Putting the book aside, Beth sat up and crossed her legs. "You can't kick Milton’s...butt."

"Why not?"

"He's half your size, for one thing."

“So...”

"So you'd probably kill him…”

"And that would be bad?" Dean interrupted.

"…and spend the rest of your life in jail,” Beth concluded, glaring at him for the interruption. “Besides, he's not technically evil. He's just a jerk who uses violence and intimidation to cope with his low self-esteem and feelings of inadequacy."

Dean gave her a long, hard look before shaking his head. "I let you spend way too much time with Sammy when you were little."

Beth laughed. And winced again. “Ow,” she hissed as she pressed gentle fingers to the spot just below the bruise.

"Damn, that looks nasty." Walking--or stalking, which Sam claimed he did when he was angry—to the bed, Dean sat down next to his cousin. Taking her face between his hands, he studied the eye close up. "You been taking care of this?"

"Yeah," Beth said, nodding as much as she could with Dean holding her head. "The doctor gave me instructions about what to do."

“And you’ve been following them to the letter, right?”

Her confused look seemed to say, Why wouldn’t I?

Dean smirked. Yep. Too much time with Sammy.

"Besides, it’s not the first black eye I’ve ever had. This one time, when I was leaving the house, I tripped and fell face first right onto the doorknob."

Dean flinched. "Ouch."

"Tell me about it.”

The black eye wasn’t really that bad. Dean had seen, and had, much worse. Still, he couldn’t help asking, "How do you feel? Any blurred or double vision?"

"No."

"Have you felt faint or dizzy?"

"Nope. Well, except for when I got hit."

"What about nausea?"

Finally, Beth laughed.

Frowning, Dean dropped his hands. "What?"

"You sound just like the doctor."

Suddenly embarrassed, Dean retreated to snark-mode. "A doctor, or somebody who's been punched in the face a bunch of times."

Beth grinned. And only winced a little. Dean almost felt bad for making her smile. But, hey, cheering her up was part of the reason he was here, right? Although, Beth didn’t seem to need much cheering up. In fact, she was pretty cheery for someone who’d been assaulted by a bully.

"What happened anyway?” Dean asked. “Aunt Kathleen wasn't all that clear on the phone."

Beth sighed. "Well, see, it’s like this. There's a new guy at school named Greg. I don't really know him, but he seems nice enough. And he’s one of Milton’s favorite targets. And, this time, it was really bad. Milton’s was pushing him around, calling him names. Totally humiliating him in front of everybody. Greg was, like, this close to crying." She held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “And I guess I sort of snapped and said some…things.”

It wasn’t hard for Dean to imagine the rest. Beth decided to stick up for this Greg guy, and her face paid the price.

"So, was the little punk suspended?" Dean said. "Hopefully expelled."

Beth shook her head. "It didn't actually happen on school grounds. But Mom talked to his parents, and Milton got into major trouble. But that'll probably just make him want to get back at me." Beth looked unhappy but resigned. "I can see it now. Milton bumping into me every chance he gets 'by accident'. Milton sneezing on my lunch tray every day 'by accident'. Milton stepping on my foot every time I pass him in the hall 'by accident.'"

"Not unless Milton accidentally wants his spine ripped out through his nose."

Beth crinkled her nose in disgust even as she giggled.

“You know, as much as I’m glad you came, you really didn’t have to. Mom just panicked because this is a fighty thing. And, since she doesn’t know a lot about fighty things, she called you. But, really, there’s nothing much you can do."

"Actually," Dean said. "I think there is."

Beth’s opened her mouth to speak.

"And I don't mean beating up on Milton."

Satisfied, Beth closed her mouth.

"See, your problem is your mouth wrote a check your ass couldn't cash."

Beth made a classic "ewwww" face.

"You sticking up for someone else is cool and all," Dean continued. "But, if you're gonna go up against a bully like this Milton guy, you have to be able to back it up."

"Well, I didn't mean to go up against Milton. He just made me so mad I forgot I'm a big wimp."

"You're not a wimp," Dean said forcefully. "You're a Winchester."

Dean could almost feel how much Beth wanted to roll her eyes. The pain that would result was probably the only thing that stopped her.

"All you need is to learn some basic self-defense,” he added. “I can teach you some moves so you can protect yourself—and your face—the next time someone throws a punch your way."

Considering how a younger, more annoying Bethie used to follow him and Sam around all the time, begging them to teach her how to fight, Dean expected her to look happy, or excited, or something. Instead, she was biting her lip and looking worried.

“What?” Dean demanded. “You don’t want to learn how to fight?”

“Sure I do,” Beth said. “Mom even signed me up for a martial arts class once. But I only got to take two lessons."

Dean frowned. "Why only two lessons?"

Beth’s look of worry was replaced by chagrin. "The first lesson, I sprained my ankle, and couldn't take another class for a week."

Dean stared at her in disbelief. Beth was a Winchester. She was also a klutz. And teaching a klutz martial arts could be tricky. Still…”You sprained your ankle the first day?”

Beth nodded, managing to look both embarrassed and amused.

Dean sighed. "And the second lesson?"

"I threw up on the instructor."

Dean didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He settled for dropping his head in defeat.

"I don't know what happened," Beth continued. "I felt fine right up to the moment everything I ate that day decided it wanted out.” She made a sort of splashing motion with her hands. "I didn't much feel like going back to the class after that."

“I can see why.” Lifting his hand, Dean vigorously rubbed his forehead. "But this will be different. Not like one of those McMartial Arts places. We'll take things real slow and easy, so you'll have plenty of time to catch on. Nobody will get hurt. And nobody will get thrown up on." He gave her a look to stress that last point.

Beth seemed to think about it for a long moment before finally smiling. “Okay.”

7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7

"Oh, god," Dean groaned. Limping into the guest bedroom, he dropped onto the bed, rolled over onto his back, and flung his arms wide. "Give me a pack of bloodthirsty werewolves any day."

Closing his eyes, he tried to figure out how it all went so wrong.

The lesson started with Beth, doing a very simple move Dean had taught her, somehow tripped. She landed flat on her...butt, and bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

But, while clumsy, Beth Winchester was also tough. And used to physical pain considering how much tripping and walking into stuff she seemed to do. She wanted to keep going. And, despite the first stirrings of uneasiness in the pit of his stomach, Dean agreed with her.

He should’ve listened to the stirrings.

The lesson ended when Beth's knee somehow slammed into a very delicate part of Dean’s anatomy. A part Dean cared about deeply, and didn’t want injured or out of commission. And while this was a viable self-defense tactic—it had certainly taken Dean down—it didn’t count as a teaching success since that wasn’t the move he was teaching her at the time. In fact, he still had no idea how the hell her knee ended up where it did.

Dean shook his head against the mattress. Beth Winchester was a menace. A danger to herself and to others. And without even trying.

As he remembered Beth looking down at him all contrite and concerned, he chuckled a little.

"The next lesson will probably kill us both. But at least she didn’t throw up on me.”

He still intended to teach her self-defense. They were just going to take things much, much slower. And maybe he’d splurge on some protective padding.

In the meantime, they had to find a way for her to deal with her Milton problem in the short term.

“A way that doesn’t involve me kicking Milton’s ass,” Dean said with some regret. Even though, having cooled down some, he didn’t really want to beat up on a fourteen year-old boy. Much. “But I’m surprised Bethie hasn’t found some way to accidentally put the kid in the hospital by now.”

7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7

On Monday morning, Dean pulled the Impala up in front of the school.

"Okay, just do what I told ya and everything will be fine," he said.

But Beth looked uncertain. "I don't know about this, Dean."

"What? You want everything you eat in the cafeteria from now on to be showered in sneeze juice?"

Beth's shiver of disgust said she didn't.

Silence fell over the Impala as the cousins watched students swarm, like ants, towards the school.

“How’s your lip?” Dean asked. He cringed a little, remembering Aunt Kathleen’s reaction to her daughter’s latest injury.

“It’s kind of throbby, but fine.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “How’s your…”

“It’s fine!” he interrupted, not wanting to hear how she would finish that sentence.

Beth smirked. And Dean suddenly understood why his own smirk annoyed Sam so much.

Not that he was going to stop or anything.

"Ooh, there's Milton!" Beth pointed to a group of three boys.

Three boys or not, it wasn’t hard to identify Milton. Eyes narrowed, Dean studied the boy who gave his cousin a black eye.

Milton had “bully” written all over him. He was a little bigger than average, size he could use to intimidate his classmates. There was a permanent scowl glued to his face, like he did it so often it got stuck. And he plowed through the crowd like a pit bull, ready to bite anyone dumb enough to get in his way.

Milton’s two cronies tried to look as menacing and tough as their pack leader. But Milton had a natural mean about him that just couldn’t be faked.

"You're on, kid," Dean said, and gave Beth’s shoulder a nudge.

Sighing in a way only teen-agers could manage, Beth got out of the car. “Okay. But don’t blame me if this whole thing goes bad.” Closing the door, she walked hesitantly towards Milton.

Dean watched carefully, ready to take action if the boys did anything stupid. He saw Beth call Milton’s name. Saw Milton turn to sneer at her. The sneer morphed into a smug, nasty smile when he got a good look at Beth’s black eye.

Dean’s angry growl echoed through the car.

Although he couldn’t hear her, Dean saw Beth’s lips moving. He hoped she was following the script he laid out for her on the way to the school.

Finally, she waved towards the Impala.

“That’s my cue,” Dean muttered, opening his door. Stepping out of the car, he moved so the boys could see him over the hood. Resting his hands against said hood, he leaned forward and gave them a look humans rarely got to see. But most of the baddies he’d sent to hell were familiar with it.

The boys stared at him, eyes wide. Once he had their full attention, he let all the things he’d felt when he got Aunt Kathleen’s call show clear as crystal on his face. And he topped it all off with a cold smile.

Milton’s cronies paled. One of the boys even swayed a little from side to side.

Milton tried to stay tough, tried to stare Dean down. But Dean saw the flash of fear in his eyes. Because, deep down, most bullies were cowards. They picked on others to hide the fact that, deep down, they were candy asses who would turn tail and run from a fair fight.

So maybe Beth was right about that low self-esteem thing.

“Come on!” Milton snarled at his minions loud enough for Dean to hear. Smacking one of the boys on the arm, he turned and stomped into the school. And, after a few more nervous glances Dean’s way, the minions dutifully followed.

Grinning from ear to ear, Beth all but skipped back to the car. “Did you see the look on his face? It was great. And all I did was tell him my cousin was visiting. And then you stepped out, and it looked like he was about to faint. It was awesome!”

“Yeah,” Dean smiled. “Told you it would work. No violence. No threats.”

“Just the stare of death!” Beth crowed, then proceeded to try to imitate said stare: face blank and eyes wide.

Dean really hoped his ‘stare of death’ didn’t look like that. “Yeah, well, you better go on inside. Your mom’s mad enough at me without me making you late for school too.”

“Okay,” Beth agreed. Then, she smiled up at Dean. “I’m so glad you’re staying for a few days. And I can’t wait for my next self-defense lesson!” Still as excited as a happy puppy, Beth turned and ran towards the school.

Dean waited until she was too far to hear before groaning in despair.

THE END

Author’s Notes: There are so many stories out there in which Dean and Sam have a little sister or younger female cousin who can kick ass right alongside them. So, I thought it would be fun to write a little-sister type character who was the complete opposite of that. I hope you enjoyed!