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“I think our English teacher is a witch.”
Will has to bite his lip to stop the groan that bubbles up in his throat when Dean drops himself into the seat next to him. “Because she’s a witch? Or because you don’t like her?”
Dean has a weird constipated look on his face that’s slowly easing into a grin, “Two things can be true and once, Willem.”
“You’re still not allowed to call me that.”
“Awe, why not?” Dean elbows him and licks his teeth, “Sammy calls you that literally all of the time.”
“Yeah, well Sammy isn’t the asshole I have to see everyday.” Will scoots his chair away from Dean’s and looks him up and down for a moment, “How do you even know if we have the same English teacher?”
“Sammy hacked into the school files. We’ve got the same English teacher, and History‘n Science together.”
“Right.”
The bell rings. This one is a more melodic sound that Will is sure Dean is going to sleep through in the back of classrooms most days, though it’s a pleasant change from the shrill noise the last two schools had. The classroom quiets as the teacher starts talking through the rubric of the day, apparently all lecture and time at the end of the period to get a headstart on homework. Will tunes her out as soon as he realizes it's a lesson on DNA pretty much the same as one he’d had the previous semester.
Will screws his face as he tries to find the right words before whispering to Dean’s shoulder, “What happened?”
Dean’s considerably less conspicuous when he turns, “Huh? With Ms. Witch-lady?”
“No,” Will sighs, “You had an argument with Sam, didn’t you? What happened?”
He blanches, then scowls. “I hate your empathy bullshit.”
“No you don’t, you just hate getting read. Makes your job harder.” Will tries for sympathetic or understanding but Dean just rolls his eyes.
“William Graham and Dean Winchester?” They both look up to the teacher staring down at her attendance sheet, she offers a plenty kind smile, “‘d I pronounce those right?”
Will only nods. Dean grins with his usual mischievous charm that sets teachers on edge and says, “Yes, ma’am.”
She nods, “I don’t expect you two to be too caught up since y’all’re new and we are…” she twists to glance back at her calendar, “halfway through April. Just listen to the lecture and do the worksheet the best you can.”
With a final pat on their table the teacher addresses the rest of the class again and begins her lecture.
After a few minutes Will can see Dean silently debating something from the corner of his eye, but before Will can pry Dean’s shoulders sag.
“How’d you know?” He doesn’t have to clarify.
Will licks his lips before responding. Dean’s been utterly fascinated by Will’s overgrown empathy since their fathers met and he was informed that it had nothing to do with ‘psychic powers’ or even just being a good guesser and more than a little bit of a dick about it, but it’s not something he’d admit aloud. At least, not directly. Instead, he insisted Will tell him how he noticed things about people because Will ‘needed the practice, putting words to the feelings’ (and definitely not because he just wanted to know - even if it came at his own expense), which… was true, and even was really helpful if Will felt charitable enough to admit it.
“Just being near you’s making me stiff… And, you were making a face like you were still thinking about a fight.” Will starts quietly, only loud enough that he knows Dean’ll hear, eyes on the teacher as if he’s listening, “Y’know, the one that makes you look like you shit your pants and don’t know how to deal with it without anyone noticing.” A snort from Dean. “But you were also licking your teeth, which you usually only do either when you’ve been hit in the mouth or if you’re actually upset about something.
“You don’t really look like you’ve been hit in the face at all recently. So either something happened on a hunt and a monster struck a nerve, something happened with your dad, or you got into it with Sammy.” He puts his hand near Dean’s elbow and counts out the options on his fingers. “If it were a hunt you’d be bitching about it and conveniently leave out the part where it said something that… hurt you. If it were something with your dad you’d be even more… stiff or robotic, and there’d be at least half a chance I’da heard something about it ahead of time when pa starts ranting hypocritical about his drinking habit. So…”
Will glances sideways when he finishes. Dean’s face is turned to a scowl and his hands are locked together in front of his mouth only barely hiding when he licks his teeth again, and Will thinks that maybe he shared a little too much this time.
Dean shakes his head, “Fuckin’ Sherlock powers.” and the tightness in his chest restricting his breath loosens.
‘Not powers’. Will chooses to not correct him. “Plus, you can usually wait until the end of the first day before declaring that someone you don’t like is somehow a witch.”
Dean scoffs but doesn’t argue.
They spend the rest of the period in mutual quiet. Dean picking on a hangnail and boredly scanning the classroom always in the corner of Will’s eye. And Will lets himself fall back into his mind, curled in on himself at the bank of a river, watching the current and picking at grass and pebbles with the weight of Dean at his side. Neither bother listening to the lecture.
Will tries to duck away as soon as the bell rings, a nervous energy under his skin warning of Dean’s intentions before the other boy even has a chance to move, but everyone’s bottleneck-ing in the doorway and Will ends up fighting to push Dean’s arm off from his shoulders.
“C’mon Will, let me walk you to the witch’s class.” Dean leans further into his space, mouth pitched in a smirk.
“No.” He grits out, “You’re an asshole when you don’t like teachers, I don’t want her to hate me because I hang around degenerates.”
Dean rolls his eyes, “She’ll hate you because you’re weird and you suck, I don’t even have to do anything.”
Will backhands Dean in the ribs and rolls his shoulders when he finally drops his arm and they get through the door.
Despite his protests, Dean follows closely behind. Will doesn’t even understand the move himself; it doesn’t have the same air as when Dean’s being protective, it’s not spiteful and blistering, it’s not even mischievous and a way of Dean getting Will in trouble simply by being around (which happens way too damned often, by the way).
It’s the uncertainty that keeps Will’s shoulders tense and eyes low, and it’s what makes him almost miss the classroom door. Dean catches him by the back of his shirt and pulls him back almost into him.
The woman standing in the doorway is tall with red framed glasses but is otherwise rather plain, handing sheets of paper to students as they enter with a flat smile. Her eyes raise to meet his and her smile tightens at the sight of Dean at his back.
Dean has an arm around him within seconds, squeezing as if to be comforting but only unnerving Will more. “At least tell me what you think later.” He says quietly, breath suddenly hot in Will’s ear. Will cringes but nods. At that, Dean practically disappears and Will finally enters the classroom with an acknowledging nod when given the sheet.
“I can see why you don’t like Ms. Halloway.” Will tells Dean as soon as he can get a seat near him. The cafeteria is packed and way too loud to Will’s ears. His only saving grace is that most people are standing in the long, disorganized line for school lunch and there are still open seats.
Dean’s smile is still charming when he turns from the three girls perched on the bench only a few feet away to Will, “Because she’s an evil witch? Yeah, I told you that already.”
“No.” Will ignores the smile and tugs his packed lunch from his bag, tossing Dean a sandwich then unwrapping his own, “Because she’s shit at her job. She does not want to be working here anymore.”
Dean scoffs and Will scoffs back in reflex. “Neither do most of the teachers here. News flash Will; being around teenagers all day everyday fucking sucks.” Will rolls his eyes. “Trust me, there's something else up with her.”
“And it’s magic? Seriously?” Will would later concede that there was something off about the woman, but more in the way she scanned the class like she wanted to eat them up; there was in no way anything that specifically screamed ‘witch’ about her.
“Mhm.” Dean gives a look that Will guesses is supposed to say ‘I’m always right, you can trust my judgment’, but it’s quickly interrupted by something flirtatious when one of the girls seems to finally work up the nerve to scoot over toward Dean. Will tunes out whatever the exchange is, resisting the urge to scare the girl away by loudly retching in their direction.
He finishes his food silently and flees toward his next class exactly a minute before the bell rings.
Will mercifully has two classes before he has to endure another with Dean.
Which, Will knows is probably not the nicest way to think about it, because he doesn’t hate Dean. He doesn’t, because he cares about and for him and he’s protective of him and he feels safe with him and there will never be a day that goes by without him seeking out the feelings Dean stirs within him, but also… he kind of hates Dean.
And he feels damn justified in this hatred when he steps into history class and sees Dean perched on top of a desk with his dickhead smirk staring down the poor man standing in front of him.
He resists the urge to cover his ears with his hands and run away only barely, instead pointedly ignoring the reprimands coming from the teacher and Dean’s sarcastic barbs. He looks around the room for a seat as he walks in and he can feel his insides churn and boil. The only available seat, that doesn’t have another student sitting in it or is taken up by a bag or someone’s feet, is the one next to Dean.
Will almost feels bad for wanting to strangle Dean in this moment when his face lights up at the sight of him coming to sit at his side, so he looks away.
“Hey, how were your classes?” Dean asks, turning away from the teacher to look at him instead. Will doesn’t hide his grimace; this is exactly what he means by Dean getting him in trouble by doing practically nothing.
He can feel the teacher’s irritation bite at his skin as he answers, “Better without you there.”
Will can almost hear Dean pout from above him. He doesn’t look up, he does not look up.
“Stop it.” Will breathes instead. “Get the fuck down now. You are an embarrassment and I have to be associated with you.”
He does not look up. Dean shifts minutely, his jaw clicking, before he sighs heavily and pushes himself back until he literally, and loudly, falls into his seat.
Will continues to ignore everything else around him, only barely catching what sounds like the teacher saying something about lunch detention.
“Thank you.” He whispers to Dean the first moment he can.
“Shut up.” Will’s throat burns. He does not look up.
Will and Dean are terrible to each other sometimes.
When they first met they were both 12, sitting off to the side of the playset at a park. Sammy was probably running around with the other kids and when Dean wasn’t looking out for his baby brother he was trying to talk to Will. After being sufficiently ignored for the better part of an hour he grabbed Will’s replica boat from beside him, and Will snatched it back and set it alight with his ‘emergencies-only’ lighter just so the other boy couldn’t have it.
The first time their fathers made them stay together in a cabin - 13 and 12, respectively - to watch over Sammy, Will and Dean didn’t even have to look at each other before coming to a silent agreement, only attacking each other once Sammy was finally asleep in a different room. Neither tried to explain the bruises or bloody teeth when pa and John came back, the only thing anyone cared about was that Sammy was happy and well-rested and the group of vengeful spirits in the public library were no longer a problem.
So by the time history class ended and they shuffled along with a crowd of students out of the school, they were fine; Dean’s shoulders were relaxed and Will could look him in the face without feeling sick.
They were so fine, even, that Dean didn’t say a word of protest when Will stuck at his side when he turned to walk toward the elementary school.
The elementary school day ended almost thirty minutes after the high school, so their walk wasn’t hurried, shoulders sliding against one anothers and the drooping evening sun burning their faces.
It’s only ten minutes in when Dean glances over and scoffs at him. Will glares back but waits for whatever it is Dean’s going to say.
“Take off your hoodie.”
“What?”
“Take. Off. Your hoodie.” Dean repeats slowly, tone only on the edge of mocking. “It’s hot. You’re gonna give yourself heatstroke or something.”
“Oh.” Will hadn’t even noticed the heat, but when he tugs the hoodie off he feels like he can finally breathe again. “Thanks.”
“Yeah.”
They still have another ten minutes of walking so Dean starts detailing the cursed jewelry case John is working on, and Will nods along as if he hasn’t heard all there is to hear from pa. Dean must realize this at one point because he starts trailing off halfway through sentences and finishing them with uncommitted grunts. Will lets himself be quiet for now, knowing Dean won’t question it or worry at him for it, instead tugging at the knot he tied his hoodie sleeves into around his waist and squinting down at the dirt path they have to traverse instead of sidewalk.
The last place Will and pa had settled at was right on the edge of a city, and even if the sound of the place was near torture, he missed being able to walk places without tripping over overgrown grass or hidden tree roots. Dean liked when he and Sammy got to stay in cities - according to him the motels were more likely to have fridges and microwaves that worked and it was easier to steal from city convenience stores. Will just preferred the driving, despite his near inability to eat full meals or the nausea from looking away from the horizon too long or the constant soreness in his legs and back, it was nice to be in one space slipping back and forth between sleep and mindlessly watching the scenery pass you by. Better than hunting, better than cleaning weapons, better than sitting in school learning and relearning the same things town after town, school after school.
Will’s neck itched. He hoped it wouldn’t burn in the sun.
The elementary school was bigger than their school - Will assumed it was because the teenagers were able to skip town, and many did, while the kids were stuck with their parents and had nowhere else to go - which Dean had expressed an exaggerated jealousy of several times. Will thought he just wished the high school had swings too.
Sammy was sat patiently in the same spot he is every day, tucked right under the cover of a tree with a book in his lap. Dean only had to whistle from the road for Sammy to hop up and run right down to them, grinning when he caught sight of Will.
“Willem!” Sammy squished himself between Will and Dean, “You gonna have dinner with us today?”
Will ducks his head, trying to hide the affectionate smile that he feels tugging on the corner of his lips, and shakes his head. “Sorry kid, I’m on phones tonight and have to clean a bunch’a knives.”
Sammy grunts in a very Dean-like manner, “That’s stupid.”
Dean opens his mouth like he’s going to argue, but only ends up shrugging.
Sammy sticks close to Will’s side as they walk in the direction of the cabin he and pa are camping out in and it makes Will’s already sweaty hands itch. It takes several minutes of shifting and squirming before Sammy sighs out loud, “Dean, can you hold my backpack?”
“What? No, I have to carry mine, I’m not carrying two backpacks.”
The boy glares at Dean before throwing his head back and groaning loudly, “My back is sweaty! And we have to walk for like thirty more minutes!”
“Oh my god.” Dean rolls his eyes before tugging the backpack from Sam’s shoulders and tossing it atop his own backpack. “We don’t even have to walk that long, dude.”
Sammy smiles and stretches his arms out, relishing the air on his damp back, but still manages to reply with a snarky, “Whatever.”
Will turns away so he can’t see Dean’s eyes widen comically at the comment, biting the inside of his lip to fight the snort he can feel building.
“Wh-” Dean stumbles trying to come up with a comeback, “Whatever yourself.” and fails miserably.
Sam shoots him an annoyed look, “That doesn’t even make sense, Dean.”
Dean’s teeth grit, and something in Will’s gut goes ‘uh oh’. “You know you don’t know everything, right? You’re still just a fucking kid.”
Sammy stiffens and pointedly looks forward, failing to hide his hurt. Dean’s shoulders slump.
Frankly, while Will wasn’t prepared to be stuck in the middle of the Winchesters’ personal problems, it wasn’t shocking nor an uncommon occurrence. Dean has his fathers temper - despite his homegrown gentle nature - and lashes out even when he doesn’t mean to. Sammy was a smart, but stubborn kid, and poked the bear so often Will almost wondered if he even knew he was doing it. Will, when he got caught between them, always felt disjointed and off balance, like he was wearing both of their shoes, one on each foot. Most of the time Will just waited for the stormy weather to pass, waited for the moment after one of the brothers said something volatile to spark and burn with anger and hurt until it fizzles and they dismiss it for the day. Sometimes though, they can't let it go, they’re hurt and angry and it's hard to forget that John Winchester is their father. And…
And Dean licks his teeth. “Damn it.” Will breathes, before barrelling on, turning sharply toward little Sammy still staring forward. “What did you and Dean have an argument about?”
“Will–” Dean protests.
“Dad still won’t let me hunt yet,” Sammy complains immediately, and Will nods. He knows this has been a point of contention between Sammy and his family for a couple months now, “and Dean keeps telling me that I’m too young to have one of his guns yet, even though I know he’s been allowed to shoot since he was like six! I’m almost ten! I’m old enough to protect myself!” Something about that feels like a punch to the teeth. A glance to Dean says he feels much the same.
“First of all, I was seven.” Dean starts, Sammy rolls his eyes so Will can tell that he’s just repeating things he’s already said, “Second of all I only got my own gun when I was eleven. You’ve been shooting since you were five!”
Sammy only scoffs while Dean blubbers in frustration, looking over to Will over Sammy’s head as if to say ‘Are you hearing this shit?!’
Will presses his lips together, squinting between the two before coming to a conclusion. He returns Dean’s look, taking advantage of the moment of eye contact to seep up as much Dean into himself as he can.
When he looks back down at Sam he can already feel himself shift; his shoulders become more straight, smile more cocky, voice even slightly lower. He lightly hits Sammy’s arm with the back of his hand and gives a conspiratorial grin, “Tell you what, if we’re in town together for your birthday I’ll give you one of my favorite pistols. How does that sound?”
Sammy blinks a little at him, looking slightly off-kilter, before grinning back and looking between him and Dean.
Dean only squints, then nods. “I think that’d be okay.” Dean knew what he was doing, they both knew that pa made a point to rush the two of them back ‘home’ for the same two and a half months a year ‘for ma’ - a span of time that just so coincidentally coincided with Sammy’s birthday - and they both knew that Sammy hadn’t quite picked up on the pattern yet.
Sammy stuttered for half a second, like he wasn’t sure just how to express his excitement, before pumping a fist violently enough that Will took one step away from him, “Yes!” The boy covered his face with his hands then hops forward and grins with all of his might. “Thank you, Willem!” Will only smiles and pointedly glances behind Sammy. He seemed to understand, and was too excited to even sigh and continued, “Thank you, Dean.” slightly softer.
“Yeah.” Dean sighs.
Sammy is a jittery ball of excitement for the rest of the walk to the cabin, quickly deciding to tell them about his first day at the elementary school, as much as he shared their same frustration of being taught many of the same things or being expected to just know things other schools hadn’t covered. Dean and Will remained quiet for the rest of the way, though Will wasn’t quite sure if Dean was listening too or just biding his time until he could bury his teeth in Will’s throat.
Or both. Both could be true.
As expected, when they reach the path parting to Will’s temporary home Dean instructs Sammy to get a head start toward the motel and ushers Will up to the door. They both wait until Sammy is a reasonable distance away before turning to each other.
Dean wears a conflicted expression that makes Will frown. “Will,” He presses his lips together like he’s struggling to put together the words, before continuing, “Just… try to not be. Me. With Sam.” The words are halted, and uncomfortable, and something in Will’s chest sours. “It’s weird, and it’ll confuse him.” Dean squints and Will catches an unsaid ‘you will be gone eventually, Sam shouldn’t have to lose half of a brother’.
And Will… Will wants to agree, to shut up and stop confusing the closest thing he has to a best friend’s brother, to stop mimicking people. But something inside whirls and edges into panic, and he finds himself opening his mouth; “I… I don’t know how I’d be with him if I wasn’t you sometimes, Dean.” It’s a painful truth, one he doesn’t like admitting. And he can tell Dean doesn’t like hearing it, if his face has anything to say about it. “I want to be able to keep him safe if I have to, but I… get worried that I can’t do that without being you.”
Dean’s expression slowly turns contemplative, eyes scanning Will like he needs to recategorize what he knows and understands about him.
When his mouth finally opens to respond, Will can feel himself tense in anticipation.
“How about you try being my dad?”
It isn’t said in a particularly serious tone, but Will tries to keep his expression from twisting or miming a gag at the thought.
Thankfully, Dean just bursts out laughing. “You look fucking constipated.” Will finds it in himself to smile back as Dean shakes his head. “Night nerd!”
Will’s body relaxes as he watches Dean walk away, jogging when he hits the road to catch up with the younger Winchester.
It turns out to be a rather mellow night, thankfully. Will has to take the couch for the night to keep an eye on the phones and polish pa’s silver knives, while pa does research in the bedroom. So, save for a handful of calls he manages to redirect to more appropriate experts, Will finds himself dozing through the slow night and then jerking awake just as the sun begins to rise.
Will’s first period of the day is PE, which normally Will would not mind at all - frankly any normal-ish exercise seemed fine compared to what Will had to witness John puts the boys through as ‘training’ - except for the fact that the school was so small that they hadn’t bothered with an indoor gym and it was steadily approaching summer. The only thing he can be thankful for is that the sun wasn’t high in the sky while they kicked around deflating soccer balls around the dry grass.
Will mostly keeps to the sidelines anyways and no one pays him much mind in return.
Maybe halfway through the period the coach, whom Will hadn’t made the effort to remember the name of, abruptly blows the whistle and several boys groan in annoyance. The coach looks at the students with mild confusion before his eyes land on Will. “Graham?”
“Yes sir?”
The man nods lightly to himself before gesturing for Will to join him at the wall he’s been leaning on. Will ducks his head and moves to meet him as quickly as he can.
The coach whistles again, “Alright ladies, back to your games!” then turns in toward Will. “Got a call from the office, you’re free to go kid.”
Will blinks, opening and closing his mouth for a moment. “Should I… get dressed then?” He asks, glancing down at the loaned gym uniform he’s wearing.
The coach sighs, brows furrowing, “Yeah, get dressed and take your stuff with you. I’m not expecting you to come back for the end of class.” Will nods, but before he can make a move to leave the coach puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be alright kid.”
“Um… okay.” Will mumbles.
Once Will finally (finally) reaches the main office he finds the office ladies chatting idly and the nurse handing a pretty uninjured looking boy an ice pack from a mini-fridge.
“Oh! William, is it?” The closest woman (didn’t she say her name was something like Molly…?) to the desk jumps up.
“Yes ma’am.” Will tries a polite smile, “My coach said I was called?”
Molly gives him a sympathetic smile, “Yes, right. Your father called and asked I tell you.”
Will straightens, “What happened?”
Molly bites her lip before answering, “He said your mama got into an accident. Hit her head pretty hard.”
Got it. Will shoves his tongue against the roof of his mouth and clenches his jaw, ducking his head until he’s got the expression just right and takes a long shuddering breath.
“Oh, dear,” Molly rounds the desk and takes him by the shoulders, he remembers to shake them as she tries to sooth him with the rubbing of her thumbs.
“She keeps getting sick,” He sobs to the woman, “or hurt. It’s not fair!”
He can’t see her face, but he must have her convinced because she pulls him into her, wrapping him in what should’ve been a comforting embrace. Molly sighs sadly, “Your father said he couldn’t come pick you up but that he wanted you there.” she squeezes him, “I don’t know if we can just send you by yourself though, certainly not like this.”
He sniffles, taking advantage of his hidden face to cringe at the smell of her perfume, “Um… my- my friend can walk me there.” He can hear her hesitate and tries to make himself sound as pathetic as he can, “Please? I just want my best friend with me.”
Molly sighs and lets him go, “Oh, alright. What’s his name?”
“Dean. Winchester.”
Molly returns to her side of the desk and hums, “Dean Winchester… Do you know what class he’s in right now?”
“Um, he should be in Ms. Halloway’s class, I think?” Will twists his hands together.
“Alright. You go sit down while I call him, okay?” Molly offers another smile and he only nods.
Will curls in on himself in the creaky chair in the corner of the office, letting his glasses and hair hide his dry face, making sure to make the occasional shaky breath or quiet wounded sound.
It takes Dean way longer to get to the office than it really should, but when Will sees him stroll into the office he realizes he probably hadn’t been given many details and just assumed he was in trouble.
“What’s the pr–” Dean starts, then pauses. “Holy shit,” Dean is suddenly kneeling in front of Will, “Will? What happened? What’s going on?”
Will keeps his face tucked resolutely away from Dean. More than anything, Will worried he’d break if he had to look Dean right in the eye right now.
“His mama had a bit of an accident.” Molly answers for him. Will can see Dean turn in his peripheral. “He said you could walk him?”
Dean pauses, and Will has to kick him as discreetly as he can to get him to respond.“Yeah! Yeah, of course.”
“Good. I’ll put you boys down as excused for the day.” Molly waves them out the door, “Be careful you two. Hope your ma is alright, William.”
Will holds character until they get to the street.
“God, I hate doing that.” He rubs his jaw and rolls his shoulders.
Dean blinks at him at his side, “I mean.. You’re pretty good at it.”
Will shrugs.
“So… what the fuck is going on?” Dean asks as they walk, “What’d your dad say?”
“He said that ma hit her head and that he wanted me back.”
Dean sighs, “Okay, but your mom is dead,” Will spares a weak glare, “so what does that mean?”
“It means,” Will speeds up their pace just a little, “that pa wants us back at the cabin to help put together final pieces of lore. He needs us to help him and your dad finish up the case.”
Dean makes a ‘huh’ sound.
Will rolls his eyes, “You and Sammy aren’t the only ones to come up with codes for things.”
He scoffs, “I know that.”
Since it’s still early in the day the sun doesn’t bare down on them quite as harshly as it did the afternoon before, a light breeze actually coming through and tickling their cheeks as they trudge along toward the cabin. Will removes his glasses and tries to find some kind of calm in the air around him.
Something still feels.. off.
He kneads into one of his shoulders as they walk, the weight of his backpack not doing much in way of relieving any aches and glances back toward Dean. Will frowns at the faraway look on the other boy’s face.
“Dean? Are you alright?” Dean doesn’t respond and Will has to physically grab him by the arm before he even acknowledges him.
He blinks at Will, “What?” His voice is strange, oddly quiet.
“Are you okay?” Will repeats.
Dean squints like he’s trying to concentrate on the answer, “I dunno. I feel kinda weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Like I can’t…” Dean frowns, his face contorting in discomfort.
Then, the coughing starts. At first it's like he just has a tickle in his throat, but then it's violent and loud. Soon, Dean is bent over coughing and gagging, the hacking making his entire body shake.
“Dean–” He starts, but Dean continues to cough, choking a little before Will watches a glob of blood escape his mouth and hit the pavement. “Shit. Shit! Dean!”
Will has to let instinct take over, guiding Dean down into a crouched position before ripping open the boy’s backpack, feeling around for any foreign item.
And eventually, finally, he feels it, soft leathery cloth. He knows what it is even before he pulls it out. A hex bag.
Will drops the bag to the ground and makes quick use of his emergency lighter, only allowing himself a relieved breath when he can hear Dean suck in a clean breath of air.
“Was that…?” Dean forces out, spitting out some blood.
“Hex bag.” Will confirms, sitting next to him. “But you went through your bag last night, who could’ve even–”
Will stops himself and watches Dean make the same realization as him. Dean turns toward his with a stupid grin.
“God fucking damnit.”
“I fucking told you she was a witch!” Dean cackles, bloody teeth on full brilliant display, “I told you!”
“Oh my god.” Will breathes, “Oh, my god.”