Don't Wake The Sleeping Dragon (Book Two of the SPN New Legacy Series)

How She's Grown

When she was four they finally hashed out what she should call them. Dad One and Dad Two sounded too much like a Dr. Suess story, Sam and Dean made it sound like she was just their sister, Dad Dean and Dad Sam sounded silly as far as Dean was concerned so they settled on Uncle Sam and Uncle Dean most of the time. If she really wanted something and was trying to guilt them into getting it for her or bending the rules "just this once" she'd pull out, "But Daaad, pleeeassse," and put on her most endearing face. It worked far more often on Dean than Sam.

One would expect Dean to be the discplinarian of the two. He was usually the first one to remind her of the rules, but he was the one most likely to let her get away with breaking them. Sam tended to be more strict, especially when it came to school work. They homeschooled her completely until she was ten. When the schools tested her for grade level she was so advanced that the schools weren't quite sure what to do with her. She was reading Latin by the age of five, had started tackling basic geometry by ten and had a rather firm grasp on biology and science. So Sam and Dean decided to keep homeschooling her along with finding advanced camps for kids and college classes that would let her sit in on them to keep challenging her. Sam's few years at Stanford and love of learning had made him a much better teacher than he would have ever thought possible.

Once Dean had decided that he would restore old cars for cash he and Sam focused all their efforts on building up a small business that they ran out of the Bunker. Dean loved working on the guts of the cars; the engines, transmissions and everything that made them run and Sam would handle all the cosmetic parts. Paint, upholstery, trim etc. As Mary-Jo got older she learned how to turn a wrench as well as speak Enochian.

The brothers had had several long debates on training her on weapons and fighting. Both of them would rather that she never had to inflict pain on any living thing. After she'd tried to stop some bullies that were picking on a kid on the street and came home with a black eye and bruised ribs, they gave in. She may not have biologically been theirs but she'd picked up on the "Save People" part of their family motto early on. The brothers had her show them the bullies and Sam and Dean made a rather large point of informing the kids that their bullying days were over and done with. They judged by how fast the kids ran when they told them to go home that they had made their point.

Her eyes had stayed a rich, deep brown, her hair had lightened over the years. It was still brown but had natural red highlights. They thought she was the most beautiful person they'd ever seen but they'd admit they were biased. She told them her eyes were her best feature but her nose was too sharp and her face too round to be truly beautiful. She stayed in good shape, especially once she'd discovered volleyball; being tall and lanky served her well on the court. Sam and Dean were at every game and practice, mostly because they were proud of her but also to keep an eye on her.

They had kept her away from most of Men of Letter archives but her curiousity and the "accidental" finding of Dean's lockpick set had finally led her deep into the vaults of the Bunker when she was eleven. That's when she found out monsters were real and the reason Sam had been teaching her dead languages. She knew that day would be one she would never forget, ever.

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"Mary-Jo! Where are you?" Dean's angry voice echoed through the halls. "This is not funny! Now get out here where I can see you!"

She knew she wasn't supposed to be in this room. The rules were very clear and it was one that neither of her fathers had ever wavered on, no matter how hard she'd begged. This room and one other had always been off limits to her. It was Sam's fault, she'd seen him come in here once and saw the shelves upon shelves of books and just had to know what was in them. They'd always done a good job of making sure she was never around when they came into this room but she'd been extra sneaky and had gotten a peek. She and Sam had spent so many wonderful hours reading together, she loved Latin and learning all the obscure words. Then when she finally met Uncle Castiel, who always seemed slightly strange, he taught her Enochian and she'd had so much fun. They had whole conversations in Enochian which Uncle Dean hated because he couldn't understand what they were saying. It was like she and Uncle Castiel had a secret society all their own. For some reason Sam and Dean always had to remind Castiel to leave out the front door, she never understood why they did that.

Once she'd "found" the lockpicks, she looked up online how to use them and practiced on the door to her room. After a few weeks she'd gotten that down and snuck out one night to get into the secret room. She didn't know that Dean and Sam still checked on her periodlically through the night and once they'd discovered she was gone had started roaming the halls looking for her. She was so scared at how angry they sounded.

"Nothing could get in here to get her Dean." Sam at least sounded more worried than angry, "She has to be somewhere."

"A human working for something could Sam! You know that."

She heard something slam into the wall.

"Dean! Calm down. Throwing things at the walls won't help."

"Five more minutes, then I'm calling Cas," his voice was terrifying. She'd never heard him sound like that, "Mary-Jo!"

It sounded like they were down the hall from the room she was in and she finally got up the courage to slowly push open the door. "Uncle Dean? Uncle Sam? I'm in here. I'm...." She looked out into the hall as she spoke. Dean turned around at her words, Sam was standing in front of him further down the hall. When she saw Dean's face she started shaking and almost ran away. Anger didn't even begin to cover what she saw. Both of his hands were clenched into fists, face tight and filled with the promise of violence and there was a gun tucked into the back of his pants. He'd never carried a gun in her presence before.

Sam was calmer but not by much, he wasn't as angry, or didn't seem to be, at least at first. Relief had washed across his face, unwrinkling his forehead, until he realized what room she was in. Then his jaw tightened and he pushed past Dean as they walked towards her.

"What did you read?" Was the first thing Sam said, "How long have you been in there? How did you get in?"

"Screw that," Dean snarled, "First things first, you're on lockdown Mary-Joanne! You scared the hell out of us! What the hell are you thinking?!"

'I..I..." She wasn't sure what question to answer first until Sam pulled her the rest of the way out of the room, walked into it and slowly looked to make sure everything was in place. Once he'd made a full circuit he walked over to the small stack of books on the ground and looked through them. When he looked up at her she knew that if she didn't tell the truth he would know and things would be much worse.

"Did you say any of these words or phrases out loud?" He asked, voice rigidly controlled.

She hesitated.

He slammed one of the books closed, "Answer me!" His voice had dropped in pitch, he was like a whole different person. The intensity with which he looked at her and how he sounded, she'd never seen either of them like this.

"No," she finally whispered.

"Get in here and show me every single thing you looked at, touched or read. Now!"

She did as he asked, pointing out a few old bottles and boxes she'd looked at and each page she'd read.

Sam nodded tersely when she finished, closed his eyes, chanted something softly under his breath and waited a few breathless seconds. "Nothing seems different. I think we're fine, " he said, "You take her into the living room, I'll do a more complete check. Oh and here's your picks," he tossed the set that she'd left laying on the floor to Dean. "Lock them up better this time."

Dean caught them, scowled at her and pointed out the door. "I thought I had locked them up. Not the traits I wanted you to learn from me. Out! Now!" He snapped and she rushed out into the hall. He slammed the door behind them. "Move, living room. Now!" He waited until she started walking and followed her without another word.