A few weeks ago Samantha V sent me a message requesting a one shot in this verse and I suddenly had an idea pop into my head (which is nothing to do with the shot she asked for) and here it is! I promise that shot will be in here at some point though! But I'm not gonna tell you what it is haha. Samantha V has been truly amazing at editing and helping me with this story! THANK YOU SO MUCH HONEY X I'm having a blast with you!

(If you are a brand new reader, it's probably best you go read Bruise Pristine first lol, and all you oldies... howdy! :D Thanks for coming back x)

Hope ya'll enjoy x

Post Blue

Summary: Sequel to Bruise Pristine. It's been almost two years since the Winchester's decided to adopt Dean. Now should be the time for them to be a happy normal family, but Dean's old life may make that dream impossible.

Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V

Falling back into the decay

"Shit, son of a-" Dean cursed when he couldn't quite get the chain on his bike to clip. "Hah," he whispered into the night when it finally snapped into place and his bicycle wasn't going anywhere.

Glancing around quickly, he stood and moved towards the seemingly empty windows of the dark house. Sticking to the shadows he searched for entrance, praying that no one would hear him.

John, Mary and Sam still couldn't understand why he insisted on keeping his bike outside on a chain as opposed to locking it away in the garage like the rest of them. He had a perfectly valid reason, but he didn't plan on telling them anytime soon, his ass would be toast.

He groaned at is numb ass, next time, he really needed to research better, he hadn't realized Linwood was over an hour away on his damn bike, next week, he was sticking to the local park, only problem there, there was only so many monsters in one town.

Stretching up he lifted the rock he'd jammed into the window and opened it enough so that he could slide through into his bedroom. Scrabbling upwards he hauled himself over the ridges of the window sill.

After closing the window, silent as ever, he slipped off his shoes before his feet touched the floor and carried them in his hands as slid off the window ledge and limped forward blindly, putting as much weight as he could manage on his right leg- the one that wasn't bleeding all over his new wooden floor. 'Mary's gonna kill me for that! God I hope it wipes up...at least it's not carpet anymore.'

Thankfully he'd moved back into the downstairs bedroom after he and Sam had reluctantly agreed that a twelve year old and sixteen year old sharing a room, no matter if it was the master, simply wasn't working for them. There just wasn't enough space anymore for the two of them.

"Fuck," he mumbled when he walked into his desk, so as it turns out, limping and pitch black don't mix. Damn spirit for tossing me onto a broken bottle. What moron goes drinking in a grave yard anyway?

Once he found his bed, he sat his ass down and decided to wait a minute for the room to stop slowly spinning before getting a look at the damage.

He was so grateful Mary and John gave him lunch money every damn school day without hesitation, he didn't buy food with it, but he was grateful. To make up for no lunch he made sure he ate three times as much breakfast as John, then took some snacks with him as well as the money, he was pretty sure everyone was expecting him to add a puffy layer over his muscular frame any day now with the amount of food they thought he consumed.

But the money he was sent off to school with wasn't for food, no, he saved the money for first aid supplies. On weekends he'd gather all his money up and add the local pharmacy to his regular run. He always made sure he switched it up though. When she went for bands aids and normal house hold first aid stuff, Dean didn't want the guy at the front counter telling Mary he had seen him come around several times in the last month. So sometimes he'd go the pharmacy, sometimes he went to the grocery store and once he'd even jogged all the way to the next town to get some stuff the local pharmacy didn't have. Those things ended up being highly good quality dental floss and a sharp curved needle which he still had today... and would probably be needing if his leg was as cut up as it felt.

But before he could even find himself a light, his door opened.

"Dean?"

Dean thought maybe if he squeezed his eyes tight and kept silent John wouldn't hear or see him.

"Dean, what are doing up? It's four in the morning."

Guess not. At least it's still dark, he hasn't turned the hall lights on which he tends to do sometimes.

"Sorry, I uh...I couldn't sleep." John just looked like a black blob amongst greyish blobs standing in his doorway, so if he was a black blob to John, hopefully he wouldn't see the blood. Thank god! But this is so not good. I really need to start wearing black pants to match my black jacket, black hides blood so well it would make my life a hell of a less stressful in the getting caught department.

"You okay kiddo?"

John being concerned just made him all the more guilty.

"Yeah, I'll be fine, thanks. Just a little stressed over my math exam tomorrow." Okay that was way too formal, nice work idiot, he's definitely going to know you're lying out of your ass now.

"It'll be fine kiddo, you've studied more hours than I've seen anyone in my life, including Sammy. You'll do great."

"Kay, thanks...night."

"Night son."

His door closed and his breath heaved out in relief, well either that or the blood loss was making him breathless... Crap, that's not good

He waited for the receding soft footsteps and creak of stairs indicating John going back to bed before moving from his own to the side table drawer. Hastily pushing aside the assorted junk he normally kept there he pulled out his well disguised first aid kit. To a casual – parental- observer it was just a ragged pencil case with Led Zeppelin doodles all over it. Thank god Sammy never needed to borrow a pen because it was actually stuffed with a bunch of bandages, pain killers and other necessities. Smoothing out on the floor the plastic bag he saved in his drawer for occasions like this, he sat down with his injured leg over it so his blood wouldn't dribble any more on the wooden floor.

Using his new flashlight to light the room a little, just enough not to be caught, he made short work of cleaning the long jagged gashes. Pleased to see that none of the cuts were leaking worse than a steadily decreasing trickle, he carefully wiped away the sticky mess and only had to put a couple of stitches in the deepest parts before wrapping it in a thick bandage. Tomorrow the Winchester's wouldn't see his injuries just like they never did, he hid them so well you could give him an Emmy, but hell, he'd had years of practice. Tomorrow he could pretend like he was having an off day, a day where he didn't want his bruised shoulder to be squeezed, didn't want his cheek being cupped, didn't want the annoying jabs to his sore ribs that Sam sometimes sent as a joke. They would never know -his own family - and wasn't that just the most depressing thing you've ever heard?

SPN

"Dean, honey it's time to get up," someone called from his door giving a light knock.

Jerking awake from a fast fading dream with his Uncle Ron and one of his 'training' sessions, Dean was surprised when the illusion of pain didn't go away. Crap my head hurts...oh shit my leg...oh...oh, that still hurts, thank god. The last thing he needed was an infection numbing his limbs and have them to falling off with gangrene, but now that he thought about it, of rather felt it, maybe a numb leg wouldn't be so bad. Damn that hurts. Stupid cranky ghost.

"Coming," he yawned swinging his legs off the bed testing his left leg before putting his weight on it. Wasn't too bad, could be better. Taking a quick shower and avoiding his slightly bloody bandage he felt much better, if a bit drained. He walked a few times around his room, stretched and finally got into a limp-less rhythm as he made his way downstairs to the kitchen where the others were waiting.

"Whoa you look like crap," Sam gasped, his voice a mix of mockery and worry.

"Is it just me or have the morning greetings gone downhill lately?" Dean asked taking his seat next to the kid.

"Dean sweetie, you feeling okay? John said you didn't sleep much last night, maybe you're coming down with something," Mary placed her hand on his forehead before he grumbled and she took it away.

"M'fine, just tired, can't wait for these exams to be over." Some people get sick from school stress right? It's seems like a good cover story to me. Especially cos it's kinda right, I am freaking out!

"Okay, but if you feel off just call us and we'll pick you up."

"We?" Dean asked taking a bite of the lucky charms in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, we've got a meeting today with the social worker so we both took the day off. But if you need us, just call."

Dean nodded, suddenly losing his appetite. He didn't like the damn social worker, hated him in fact, he still wished John would have let him punch the guy a few years ago; he totally deserved it. How someone that wanted to break them apart could be their social worker he didn't know, didn't really want to know.

Usually they kept that kind of talk to a minimum because they knew how pissed Dean got when the subject came up. Those years of adoption papers, meetings, trials and therapists trying to figure out if he was of sound mind to make his own decisions about staying with the Winchester's or being in a foster home weren't exactly... well they pretty much sucked. In fact, most meetings, most shrink visits, left him storming out and pounding his well-worn punching bag when he got home. The worst days when he was damn sure the system was going to claim him, left him crying himself to sleep like a wimp.

A large, gentle hand came down on his shoulder and squeezed, he tried not to wince much as he looked up at John. "Dean, stop worrying kid, they can't take you from us, it's all down in ink and has been for a long time, you ain't going anywhere unless we're behind you. That pompous douche can't do anything."

Dean sighed, he knew that, just didn't like to believe it because one day when he did, maybe someone might think it was funny to let him know otherwise by ripping him from his new life. Needless to say, he still had issues with letting himself be happy.

"Dean what have you got first?" Sam asked changing the subject for him. The left side of his mouth twitched up and Sam knew it was a Dean version of a smile.

"Uh, I'm supposed to have science but they've given us the hour to study before the math test."

"Jeez, haven't they heard of something called too much studying?"

Dean shrugged, he didn't think so, he needed all the damn studying time he could get.

"You'll be fine Dean, I know it, you're better than me at math."

That was such a lie, Sam was like a freakin' math savant, but Dean appreciated the effort anyway because thanks to that kid, he'd gone from monumentally hopeless to sort of okay in school.

After a little more chat, mostly about the football match this weekend, they finished breakfast and Dean was last to return to his bedroom, getting dressed after three bowls of lucky charms. Once deodorant was sprayed, hair spiked, and teeth brushed, he made a quick check of his leg. Locking his door, he cleaned and re-bandaged his wound which, though a bit red and swollen, didn't look as bad as he thought in daylight before coming out of his room, fully dressed with his bag in his hand.

John took both boys to school like he did every day he had off, wished his sons good luck on their tests then drove off.

"Dean are you sure you're okay?" Sam asked unable to take his eyes off of Dean's dark circles and pale cheeks.

"Yeah, I'm fine man."

"You'd tell me if you weren't right?" Sam asked using his puppy eyes making Dean feel like he'd just been kicked in the gut.

"Yeah, course, haven't I always?" Dean forced himself to keep a sincere face that would make a professional con-man proud while his guts twisted with guilt.

Sam nodded strongly, completely convinced and wasn't that just a bitch.

Dean hated lying to the kid, even more than he hated lying to John and Mary. He'd like to say he was keeping his hunting a secret for their sakes, he'd like to, but that would be a total and complete waste of time. Nope, he was hunting for himself, because when he didn't it felt like he was on drugs, going through withdrawal, craving his weakness so bad, and cold turkey wasn't fun. A bit of hunting, something routine (if there was such a thing) was like a nicotine patch, it made the withdrawal of the road, the big guns and the kicking some serious demon ass a bit more bearable. He lied to them partly yes because he knew they would worry, he'd come to terms with the fact that they did care about him for some strange reason a long time ago. But he lied mainly because if they found out, they would make him stop, find every possible way to keep him from going out of the window once or twice a week to go kill something for pleasure, the saving people part, that was just a happy bonus. His hunting nowadays was purely selfish.

"I guess I'll meet you at home time?"

Dean nodded, his math exam just happened to run through the mid morning break, the only time they got to see each other in the whole school day now because of the new system where every class has a different lunch time, something to do with minimising intimidation and bullying on younger classes.

But it although they didn't really get to talk for longer than ten minutes until the three o'clock bell went, the new lunch timetable did have its upsides, Dean couldn't really not eat and save up his lunch money if Sam was around to see.

"Good luck, not that a geek like you needs it," Dean smirked ruffling Sam's hair.

"I would say the same to you but I think I'll pass now jerk."

"Bitch," Dean immediately replied before Sam got serious.

"You sure you're okay?" something just seemed off.

"You really suck at building a guys spirits you know that?"

"You'll do awesome Dean," he smiled, making Dean feel a little better before they both walked their separate ways to their classes.

Here goes nothing...

TBC...

As always, any suggestions or requests, holler and I'll do my best but no promises!