Discoveries

Who: Tad and Dean
Where: School and then Tad's house
When: After final bell

Dean shoved his cold hands into his pockets as he waited out the front of the school for Tad, hoping the guy wouldn't be too long. It was fucking freezing out here - and he'd left his gloves at home. It was so cold that he'd actually capitulated and he was, for once, wearing the woolly hat he usually refused to wear out of some remaining vestige of personal pride in not looking like a complete nonce. of course, it helped that everyone else was wearing them, along with every other bit of winter gear going and Dean was always someone who preferred to fit in rather than stand out. he jiggled from one foot to the other, trying to keep vaguely warm as he waited for his friend.

Tad crashed through the school doors, a bundle of energy and mess of clothing. His hood was up, half covering the bruises, his parka was half on over the top of his hoodie and he was slipping a little in his worn in black chucks. Mentally he made a note that it might be a little too cold for the canvas shoes and he might have to switch over to boots soon. The thought made him sad, because he was rather attached to his shoes. "'Sup dude!" Tad called as he slid into place next to Dean. "Sorry I'm late, I had to go the long way around from my last class, avoiding the gym and all." His grin was firmly in place even if the topic wasn't a happy one.

Dean smiled very slightly. "Gym: dangerous place to be," he agreed, with a hint of humour. "So - it's bloody freezing out here, you gran okay for us to go back to yours again, or did you want to check out the library or one of the bookstores?" he asked, keen to get moving. "My cousin bought me a car, so i can drive, unless you're driving as well....?" he asked, not wanting to assume anything, though he was proud of his new-to-him car.

"Seriously dangerous," Tad answered with a nod. "My place is cool, Grams won't mind. Plus," he looked at his watch. "She's at work for at least a little longer." His eyes perked up when Dean mentioned the car. "You got a car? Sweet. No I walked. Grams says it's not worth it to get me a car to drive less than a mile ya know? I get to use hers sometimes, but it's like driving an aircraft carrier." He motioned for Dean to go ahead of him. "Lead the way!"

Dean started walking, though, as he always did, he hung back by Tad's side, rather than actually leading anywhere. He did, though, head them in the direction of the parking lot. "Yeah - she said we could do with another car in the family. And she... well, it's kind of an attendance bribe. I stop skipping, I got a car." he shrugged. "She could have just asked me to stop skipping, but hey - she wants to give me something for it, then who'm I to complain?"

"Man, I need someone to give me a reason to keep showing up for school. Some days I feel like the only reward I get is survival." The statement was toned like a joke, even if it was more truth than funny. "I think Grams will be more willing to get me something to drive after I graduate, mostly because she'll want her car and such, but I dunno. She's mentioned it, but only in passing you know? Like, when I asked for one in high school she said 'but wouldn't that be a great graduation present?'"

Dean shrugged. "Sounds like a good reward to me," he said, a little more quietly, though he didn't push which reward he was talking about. It was possible that Tad had forgotten that Dean's best friend had been shot dead at the fair a few months ago. To Dean, the fact she'd then become a fade and was still living didn't take away the pain of that knowledge and memory, at it bit hard at times.

Tad caught the change in tone, briefly wondering why. After a second though he remembered his conversation with Kaysen earlier in the day about Dean's friend, the girl who'd died. She'd just reminded him and he went and acted like an idiot. "Well it has it's perks I guess." Because he was uncomfortable, there was still some humor laced in the comment, but it was more sincere than before. "This yours?" he asked as they approached a car.

Dean fell very quiet at that, biting down on any retorts, telling himself firmly that it was just his own issues, and he needed to just bury them and it wasn't his friend's fault that he had issues. Dean could, in fact, forgive his friends anything if he tried hard enough, but that didn't mean that the joking comment didn't hurt further as Tad appeared to miss entirely that Dean was upset and, worse, be joking about life and death. He reminded himself that Tad probably didn't even know. Dean refused to think of himself as at all important and therefore he couldn't assume everyone knew. Except - even if Tad didn't know he and Thia had been best friends, the guy should have known about Thia's death, surely. Which meant that it was still a damn insensitive joke to make. And not only in regards to Thia - in regards to Chrissy and Mary and all the other kids who had been killed so far this year. Realising that he needed to say something, Dean nodded, pulling his keys out of his pocket with frozen hands. "Yeah, this is mine,"he said as he unlocked the car and got inside.

When Dean fell silent, Tad noticed. Being observant had it's advantages, but most of the time he still didn't know how to react to the actions he picked up on. Again he wondered if this was him being and idiot or Dean just being cool and aloof. He settled on it being a combination of the two, although probably more him being an idiot. Next time he talked to Porter he was going to have to convince the guy to give him some pointers on how to be less of a moron when it came to people. Porter seemed to manage alright. "Nice ride," Tad told him when he got in, meaning it. It could have been a giant piece of junk, but it was a car and it was more than Tad had. Plus even when he had a car it was a monster. The guys at the game store mocked him about it a few times. Then he kicked their asses in Halo four times in a row on the display console which doesn't even have good response times due to overuse and they shut up. Or they stopped mocking him to his face.

"Thanks," Dean said, not adding anything more as he tried to stop himself from dwelling. He wasn't very good at not dwelling. He had a real tendency to dwell. He really, really wanted to just think nice things about Tad. To just have the guy be a-okay and fantastic and brilliant and everything else. He liked the guy, and god knows, there were few enough people around like that. But he was having trouble getting past the fact that that had been really, really insensitive. He could forgive the comment against him. He could explain it away as a lack of knowledge. Or for forgetfulness - hell knew that Dean didn't consider himself at all important in the scheme of things. he could easily believe that anyone would forget anything in relation to him. But he was having a harder time forgiving in relation to the people who had died. So far, in Marquette, Dean had learned several things - one of which was that 'survival' wasn't something that was guaranteed, and it was something that should be appreciated. He started up the engine and pulled off, heading for Tad's house in silence.

Tad let the silence fill the car, because as usual, he wasn't sure what to say. Or rather what he'd said that had caused the silence. Plus Dean seemed to know where he was going, so it wasn't as if he needed directions. Actually giving him directions might be annoying and just cause the kid to shut down even more. The drive to his house didn't take long, it never did, and once they'd pulled up, Tad led the way in, dropping his coat and shoes in the hall next to the door. "You want anything to drink, or eat or whatever?" he asked, leading the way to the kitchen.

"No, I'm good," Dean said with a shrug, having done likewise and left his heavy army boots by the front door, along with his leather jacket. He leaned up against the counter and watched Tad, not knowing what to say to him at all right now. He wanted to say something about what was bugging him - Thia would tell him he should just say something - but he didn't know what to say. And when Dean didn't know what to say, he had a tendency to clam up completely and just look moody.

"Ok, if you do want something just ask, fridge is yours. I meanwhile am starved." Tad had the fridge door and the pantry door open at the same time, scanning both sets of shelves deciding on a snack. "The perk of diabetes is getting to eat all the time, but after a while you get used to it and now if I go longer than two hours I'm ready to eat my arm off." Deciding on a small bag of Doritos and a Diet Coke he closed everything up and dug a test kit out of a drawer in the kitchen. While most people would have junk and spare scissors in the drawer, this one was full of testing supplies and the spare scissors. After checking and popping the top on his Coke, Tad finally eyed Dean closely. "You alright dude? Somewhere back there you stopped talking. Which is cool, but now I'm worried I'm sort of rambling to fill up space. Which will probably get annoying."

Dean didn't say anything at first, trying to marshal his words and trying to decide what he was going to do anyhow. He looked down, then up, then back over at Tad. "Look, I get you've got bruises," he said, in the end, his voice bordering on tight. "And I get you have a hard time of shit. And I'm figuring unless there's something you're really not telling me that you got beat up by someone else at school. But - people have died here since I got here. People I know. People you know - or you know of. There's a bit fucking difference between getting beat up and getting dead. I just really don't appreciate people joking about that shit," he told Tad, his voice growing tighter as he spoke, though he kept looking at the other guy.

The can was halfway to Tad's mouth when Dean started talking and it didn't move until he was done. Setting it down on the counter, Tad glanced at the floor then back up at his friend. "I don't mean to joke about it because I take it lightly. I joke 'cause thats what I do to cope with things. My shrinks call it a defense mechanism." Sighing Tad motioned towards the bruises on his face. "This isn't just someone at school man. This is everyone at school. The only people who seem to notice me are the ones who beat the shit out of me. I've drug myself home, walked from the school to here in the snow with broken and battered body parts. Last year at the end of school the basketball team beat me so bad I had two broken ribs and bruises that didn't heal for weeks. I laid in the parking lot for forty-five minutes before I could walk again." Tad sighed, looking away briefly when his eyes watered. Once he'd gotten his composure back he looked back at Dean. "I make jokes because most of the time it scares the shit out of me. Some days when they wail on me I'm not sure if I will make it out of school alive. It's not that I don't care, or have disrespect; I'm afraid I'm going to be one of them."

The trouble, Dean knew, was that, generally, once he let loose on a subject, he didn't know when to shut up, or to stop pressing his point, unless he managed to rein himself back in again. That was the problem with dwelling on shit, it rankled and bugged until it had to be said. "Mary Curtis and Josh Barker were slaughtered and left on the front steps of the school," Dean pointed out to him. "Chrissy Chapman was torn apart by a... She was torn apart. And Lullaby... She was at the fair. She won me a goldfish that night. I'd gone home, because she was being walked home by her boyfriend. And someone shot her. In the back. She died in his arms," Dean said, his voice a mass of pain. He knew exactly how it felt to have that girl die in your arms, for there to be so much blood. To be covered in it. And part of him declared that he wasn't being fair, that he was just taking his pain out on Tad. But another part of him wanted the guy to know. Dean didn't talk about this. He just didn't. Dean hadn't really talked about Lullaby's death with anyone, not if he could help it. He took a breath and looked at Tad. "The people at school, they're not going to do that. You're not going to end up dead," he said, pointedly. What was happening to Tad was wrong, but it was never going to reach that level. As far as Dean was concerned, there was a huge gulf of a difference between what had happened to the people who had been killed and what Tad was going through.

Tad took a step forward towards Dean, fighting the urge to touch the other boy. He knew it probably wasn't appropriate, but he was affectionate by nature. Somewhere since she'd died he'd forgotten that Dean had known Lullaby and even after Kaysen had pointed out the connection he'd assumed the boy was doing alright, that'd he'd dealt with it. Suddenly Tad realized that he couldn't have been farther from the truth. "I remember, Dean. I wasn't involved, or much of a witness, but I remember." He had seen the janitors trying to get rid of the blood stains on the steps outside of the school while the students tried to focus in classes. "And for those us on the sidelines, all we knew was fear. For the longest time, I thought what had killed Chrissy and and the others was other people. Angry crazy poeple like the ones who beat up kids like me because we breathe." Tad sighed lightly. "I know I'm not going to wind up like them, but fear isn't logical, it's irrational." This time Tad did reach out for Dean, resting his hand lightly on Dean's shoulder. His voice was softer and full of genuine empathy. "I can't even start to tell you how sorry I am about Lullaby, Dean. Kaysen just not wanting to be my friend anymore is the stuff of my worst nightmares; I can't even begin to fathom what it would be like to lose her like you did Lullaby. You're far braver than I'd ever be." Words failed Tad and he felt as if nothing he could say that would be the right thing to say, even though he wanted badly to be a good friend.

"No," Dean told him, meeting his eyes. "No, I'm not. You just do what needs to be done, don't you, really. At the end of the day." He wondered, though. He caught the way Tad had put things there, and it distracted from his ire somewhat. "What do you mean - by 'what killed them'?" he asked, cautiously, wondering what the other guy knew, but trying to phrase that carefully.

Tad pondered how much it took for him to get through an average day. Most people could get up and just drag through the day, sometimes remembering to eat would be required. For Tad, he was forced to add in all the extra work to keep his diabetes in check. Keeping up with that while being as hurt as Dean seemed sounded like running a marathon. "I think that's more than most, some people would just give up." Me, for example. Tad had let go of Dean, hesitant to respond to his question. "Well, it wasn't people was it? No matter what the police and such says it wasn't just people. Couldn't be." The answer was vague enough that he wasn't letting much on, just that he was in the know.

Dean didn't say anything for a while. He had no answer to the 'some people would just give up' statement. His general response to anything that sounded like a compliment was to ignore it - which is what he did. He didn't like thinking that maybe he was even possibly above average in anything. "No - no, it wasn't just... that," he said, eventually, not looking away.

Nodding in response, Tad felt his enthusiasm rise. Sure Dean hadn't responded but he hadn't shot something back at Tad either. Not getting shot down was always a positve in his dealings with Kaysen, so he took it for a good sign. "No," he agreed. "Something far scarier." Which was about as knowledgeable on the subject at Tad got. Sure he knew the gang issues had actually been werewolves and he thought Kaysen had said something about vampires, but he was just getting clued into it all himself.

Dean nodded, rolling his left shoulder a little. It was at times like these, when thoughts of everything which had gone on, gone wrong, surfaced and got talked about that he felt the real absence of the weight of the gun at his shoulder. He knew it was for the best for it to be locked up that way. God, for so many reasons, it was for the best. But that didn't mean the instinct for it had gone away. The feeling of comfort of having it there, knowing he could protect both himself and others. But then again, he knew, the presence of that instinct was one of the reasons he really, really didn't want to be carrying anymore. He'd come to rely on it too much. He'd proven how far he would go and that scared him. "Yeah, much scarier. The people that have a go at you? Would shit themselves," he agreed, his voice serious yet muted, toned down the way Dean generally was. He was hardly a very emotionally expressive person under usual circumstances.

He knew it was scary shit, but the way that Dean worded it, well that sent a small shiver down Tad spine. It didn't help that Dean's tone sounded so matter of fact. As much as Tad wanted to protect his friends and whomever else from all the nasty things in the world that didn't mean his weekly thrashings hadn't taught him a good sense of what his weaknesses were. "You've seen it?"

Dean hesitated for a moment, then took a quiet breath and turned, pulling his t-shirt up at his right side to reveal the wicked curved scar that sat there. It was much better than a 'yes', though there was the other issue that came up with that - the time scale didn't make sense. Clearly, it was a scar that had healed (though in no way had it healed neatly, and it was clear that his skin had been sewn back together in a rough way), and Dean had actually only lived in Marquette for three or four months now. But it was an illustration that there was weirdness in the world - it just happened to also include weirdness that healed as well as harmed. Anyway, Thia had taken the rest of his scars. He should have a whole lot more.

Tad did a took a step back, his breath caught in his throat. The scar was ugly, marring skin that should be perfect. Once the sight of it settled with him though, he moved in closer to inspect the damage. "You got that here?" he asked, looking up to meet Dean's eyes. "What did it?"

There was another, longer, pause as Dean weighed up his answer - what he wanted to tell, what would be safe to tell, what he could tell and what he would allow himself to admit. There was no such thing as a simple decision in Dean's world - he weighed up absolutely everything. "Black magic," he said, in the end, leaving the explanation at that.

"Black magic," Tad repeated thoughtfully. His knowledge of things like magic was limited to fiction novels and video games, although the idea of it causing physical harm wasn't unheard of. The bigger question was how Dean had managed to get in the path of black magic, but he hadn't offered the information and Tad doubted that he would answer questions on the subject.

Dean wondered if the guy didn't believe him - he would understand if he didn't and he shrugged it off, looking away and letting the t-shirt drop down over the wound. "It was a thing. Doesn't matter," he said, taking it back.

"That's a hell of a mark for doesn't matter, dude." Tad staightened up and leaned his hip against the counter, turned so he still faced Dean. For a moment he stayed silent, watching his friend. "You wanna talk about it?" he offered.

Dean shook his head. "Nothing to talk about. Got in someone's way. They wanted me out of it. I ended up with this," he shrugged, simplifying it right down - and in no way adding that he hadn't got out of the way, and in fact the other guy had gone down as a result of his actions. Dean still occasionally woke up in the middle of the night sure he could hear the sirens coming for him. He still had nightmares about what he'd done. About the fact that maybe, someday, someone would find out. He wasn't proud of it.

Tad raised his eyebrow at Dean's statement. When someone who doesn't need psychiatric care spends years in and out of shrink's offices, it becomes clear what does and doesn't need to be talked about, who needs to talk it out and who just needs to be doped up for their own good. Dean struck him as someone who probably did need to talk. "That sounds like something, quite a bit of something. It's not every day people get on the bad end of magic." Was it any day? Tad's world view was growing exponentially. It was starting to make sense why Kaysen seemed so twitchy.

Dean shrugged again. "Depends on your perspective," he suggested, still playing things down. It was a something - it was a huge something to him. It just wasn't a something he could go into on any number of levels. Which did raise the question of why he'd even shown the scar in the first place. But that one was simpler - it was a sign, it was a sign that he knew something. There was so much he could say that he had no evidence for, but that - that he did have. It was just also the case that it was the one event he really couldn't talk about. "What do you know about it?" he asked, lifting his eyes back to Tad's, a honest question.

"About which aspects? Magic? Very little, just what I've read or seen in games and movies, but that's all fantasy. It has to be based on some reality but I don't know where the line is drawn. On the other evil in the world? The basics. Apparently my education has just begun." Tad shrugged, pausing briefly before continuing. "On perspective though, well that I know a bit about. Just because something that's fucked up happens a lot doesn't make it any less fucked up. Letting yourself believe it isn't, it's almost as bad as someone being abused starting to think that's just how it is and it's ok."

"But you believe it?" Dean asked. "I mean, lots of people would just say it's full of shit and carry on, y'know," he pointed out. He wasn't a guy who expected to be taken at his word, even though he was probably one of the most trustworthy people around. He never actually believed that he deserved that trust, yet he always worked for it. "If something fucked up happens a lot, it shifts your idea of what's 'normal'," Dean pointed out. "Like, for the world. How bad things can get. Doesn't make it okay, but it shifts what you know you can deal with - there's no changing that."

"Of course I do. Makes more sense to," Tad explained nodding. "I mean, I've always thought there was more out there than all this high school, college, nine to five stuff they preach. Plus history is littered with supernatural. It has to come from somewhere." He left out the part where he wanted it to be true. The last time he'd said that he got yelled at for taking things too lightly again. "It's fine, provided the shift doesn't let you put up with what's fucked up when you shouldn't. And it's still fucked up. That part still doesn't change."

"I wish there wasn't," Dean told him, his voice heavy. "Things would be simpler if there wasn't." His mind went to Thia and sitting with her on the side lawn at school last summer. If there wasn't the supernatural, she would never have been killed. Her father had her killed to rush turning her into a fade. If everyone had just been normal, she would still be alive. of course, if everyone had just been normal, he would still be living in England, best friends with Andy and amounting to as little as possible. But still, she'd be alive and he had to put that first, always. Even if it meant they'd never met. "But - the world's fucked up. There's no getting around that. trust me, mate - the world is entirely screwed. And we have no choice but to put up with it. Roll with the punches or whatever. You gotta put up with what's fucked up. Doesn't mean it's any less fucked up, but you don't get a choice in it. Adapt and survive - that's just the way it goes. Learn from your mistakes and make sure that you change so they don't hit you again." He'd learned that lesson the really hard way - and, to him, he had the scars to prove it.

"But that's it isn't it? You stop what you can, you survive for those who need you and if you can you find people along the way to make it worth your time," Tad pointed out. He wasn't sure where he'd pulled the logic from, but once it was said, he decided it was true enough of a statement.

"Yeah - yes, you do," Dean agreed, actually completely on board with that statement. that was exactly what you did. What he'd done. He had people who he would do almost anything for. That he'd had to do almost anything for. But that was just the way it went.

"Well, if you ever do want to talk about stuff, I'll listen," Tad offered again. He assumed Dean wouldn't take him up on the offer, but it felt better to make it. Dean seemed like he could use reassurance someone was willing to listen.

Dean nodded, just the once - a bare acknowledgement of the words, though he took them more to heart. He recalled what Thia had said - about him being hard to read at times and shifted a little. "...Thanks," he said, giving a little more, though not a huge amount. He shifted again, looking a little uncomfortable. "So, erm, you and, er, Jeri get on okay today?" he asked, changing the subject. "Sorry to just, y'know, bail like that, but, well - you seemed to have stuff to talk about and I figured that, y'know... Kinda just in the way. So, yeah..." God, he really needed to learn that whole 'complete sentences' thing at times so he didn't come across as moron-slash-idiot-slash-geek to the entire world.

Tad nodded with a welcoming and reassuring smile, trying to seem open. The smile changed to slightly crooked when Dean asked about Jeri. "Heh, yea, I think I totally cut you out of the conversation there, sorry about that." Running one hand through his hair he dropped his gaze a little and then looked back at Dean. "She's cool and such. I've only met a few others with diabetes, and most were just at the doc's office and they were all younger than me. But yea, it was cool meeting her. How'd you meet her?"

Dean shrugged. "In the hallway last week? Just kinda... did. We got talking. She seems okay," he admitted. They'd got on, it had been nice - he'd really enjoyed talking to her. There weren't a huge amount of people here he enjoyed talking to, so he really valued it when he found someone he got on with.

"Yea? Cool. She's alright. I'd known who she was for a bit, but hadn't met her yet. I appreciate anyone with a good sense of humor and distaste for authority." Tad was pleased with himself, deciding now to count Jeri in with his small, but growing circle of friends. They weren't close yet like he and Porter, and of course she would never be like Kaysen, but having someone else he could talk to in the halls or even at this stupid overnight event would be a relief. Thinking about the even though, reminded him of something he'd meant to tell Dean. "Oh! I meant to tell you earlier when the idea came to me, but I forgot. So this whole weekend trip thing sucks, but since our report is going to be on local folklore and the like, why don't we try and tie our stupid little 'adventure' into it?"

"Yeah, that could work," Dean agreed. "What, like - they'd always said the place was haunted, and look - see, ghosts, or something?" he asked, trying to think of a good angle there but sure that Tad would have a better one. Dean was under no illusions: school work and history was never going to be his forte.

"Something like that, yea," Tad nodded. "I'd been thinking we do some research on the place, see what it was originally used for, if there's you know public records of deaths in the building and what have you; put together a really solid background story. Then just report on what we see once we visit. We'll make it seem like a report from one of those ghost chasing shows. Then at least it's interesting, and unique. I think unique will do well. We'll take photos or whatever of the place, play up how creepy it is."

Dean nodded. "Sure - that could work. It used to be a mental hospital, right? Think that's what they said. So, I mean - probably that's why it's haunted." It occurred to him that they could possibly even talk to the spirits there, about why and how they died. But, well, crzy ghosts? Even he wasn't sure about that. "But I've got a camera I can take along and everything."

"Yea, a mental hospital. Trust me, the place is creepy from the outside. I imagine it's going to be delightfully creepy inside. Let's just hope we run into at least a few ghosts. I know they are more prominent but I feel like it would be our luck that we'd get the one place with none." He shot Dean a small grin, starting to get excited about the project. Lame as it was, having a lot of freedom with it meant they could have some fun with it. "Maybe Grams will loan me her video camera. It's old and such but she hasn't really used it since I was a kid and my parents were alive. So it's probably still just floating around somewhere."

"That could be cool," Dean agreed, smiling a little. Maybe having some focus would make him feel better about his whole trip. And give him something else to do that wasn't twitching about everyone left behind, and then feeling guilty about assuming responsibility when everyone would tell him not to. He could go round and round in circles about that kind of thing for hours. "I dunno if they're planning on doing anything else with us aside from just dumping us there and seeing whatever. But as long as they don't make us do any more of those stupid bloody getting to know you games..."

Tad rolled his eyes in disgust. "Seriously. If they we have to put up with that again it's going to get messy. Hopefully the getting to know you portion of the whole damn thing is over and behind us. We know each other end of game. People will walk out." The thought of people walking out though made Tad think of something. "How do you figure they'll keep us there? I mean are we going to have teachers with us the entire time or just are they just going to lock us in?"

Dean considered that. "I think we're going to have to have teachers there - I mean, they'd have hell if they just stuck a load of kids in a building to fend for themselves, wouldn't they? Without supervision?" He thought about that a little further. "Which you you think would cause the biggest outcry - the fact that nobody was feeding us, or some mummy's fear that it'd just turn into one big orgy?" he joked, smirking.

"I was gonna say, they wouldn't have hell, they'd have a hell of a lot of sex. Even from our random mismatched group. Someone would find someone else to hook up with," Tad laughed. "But yes, I imagine they'd get even more hell if they left us alone. Although, I'm not sure what sort of crazy teachers we're going to get stuck with who are willing to put up with a group of teens in a big building and possbily running around trying to sneak away and have their orgy." It'd have to be a type of crazy teacher like Tad's latest encounter with Mr. Hunt. He still needed to try calling the man. Maybe later tonight.

"I dunno - I think that's pretty par for the course, isn't it? I mean, schools take people away on holidays and things, right? or, well, our school did - sometimes at least. I figure that's why they've broken us down into groups - make things more manageable and stuff. I just know that those jokes about who gets killed first in horror movies - kinda old already, even without those guys hammering it in," he said, referencing the couple of guys who'd seemed to be the only ones in their group with any enthusiasm for the trip, who'd been making big tit jokes throughout the entire session that morning.

"You know, it's guys like those who wind up having sex and getting killed first," Tad pointed out with a devlish grin. "I think if the opportunity comes up we do our best to scare the shit out of them somehow." He retrieved his snack from the counter before continuing. "I don't know if I've done this sort of trip before. I think some of the clubs go on trips like this sometimes, to fun places or conferences and then the sports teams go to away games. I'm not really involved in any extracurricular activities so I haven't done something like this yet."

Dean shrugged. "I went on a couple of trips with my old school. Few years ago now though," he told Tad. he hadn't been interested in going anywhere or doing anything over the last couple of years. And he wouldn't have got on the trips anyway, probably - he'd been labelled too much of a troublemaker for anyone to want risking having him along.

"Yea? Cool. I'm guessing teachers in England get paid better than here huh? From what I've gathered from the teachers here they don't get paid enough to put up with their classes on day long field trips." When you're lacking in friends you usually end up sitting in the front of the bus near the teachers. Tad had overheard more than one of his teachers moaning about how the slight extra increase for the day was not worth having to chase the charges around whatever museum or location they were headed too.

Dean shrugged. "Never really thought about it," he admitted, pulling a slight face. "I just guess I kinda figured that there were trips, and someone had to go on them. I mean, some of them were to pretty cool places, and if you get paid to go on holiday, maybe putting up with looking after a bunch of teenagers while you're there is worth it. Course, I mean - this was like 'a weeks activity holiday' or 'a few days in paris' - not 'some freaky haunted nut house', so..." There was a big difference there.

"Yea I think a few days in Paris definitely is more appealing than a haunted looney bin less than thirty minutes from your own bed. I can see teachers lining up for a Paris trip," Tad laughed. "Hell, I'd make best friends with some of the assholes in our school if I could swing a trip to Paris." Tad took another swig of his Coke. "But I suppose Paris is a hell of a lot closer to your old school than this one huh?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah - though, really? I think everywhere is closer to where I used to live than here. This place is officially the middle of bloody nowhere," Dean pointed out, though he didn't sound totally unhappy about that fact or anything. He appreciated Marquette for its relative isolation. He liked the quiet and the general peace of the place.

"You're telling me. At least the post office works decently enough and someone created the internet because otherwise I'd go nuts trying to get video games and other things of the like into this town." Tad didn't sound appreciative of the town's seclusion, but rather quite annoyed. Living in the middle of nowhere for most of his life, he was certain there was far more to see in the world outside of the Marquette bubble.

Dean smiled a little. "You're sounding like my brother right now," he told the other guy. "Scott'd hate living somewhere like this - he loves Manchester and he thinks I'm an idiot for moving here." Dean's younger brother had never been backward at coming forward about his opinions - especially when it put his older brother in a poorer light.

Tad shrugged. "I've been here almost my whole life. Plus before they died, my parents traveled around and I couldn't go with them, even though I wanted to. So I guess I've always had an urge to get out of here," he explained. "So yea I think you're an idiot for leaving, but I imagine moving from the big city to a small place like this can be relaxing." At least that's what his grandmother always said about the place. She for some reason loved it in Marquette.

Dean shrugged, brushing that comment off. "Well, if you've got an urge to get out of somewhere, then you can't hold it against a guy for leaving the place where he grew up," he pointed out. "I dunno - I'd never travelled either, 'cept on holidays and stuff. But, according to... From what I hear, my holidays and stuff covered more ground than people round here tend to do. And don't involve people with cheese hats or whatever."

Tad had to laugh at the cheese hats. Thats just downright funny and it sounded even funnier coming from Dean in his accent. "Yes," he said, grinning widely, "Always best to avoid the cheese hat folks. So you wanted to leave Manchester? You're right, I can't fault you for wanting to get out of where you've always been, even if it probably is more interesting than here." Although, the more he learned about what was going on around town, the more interesting Marquette seemed to be.

"I dunno - I think it was more Manchester wanted me to leave. We didn't really get on," he told Tad, glossing over things. He'd been ready to admit that he had some knowledge and involvement in the supernatural, but he wasn't ready to admit his part in it right now. He was still wary about people's reactions to that - both good and bad. Somehow he didn't take the 'that's cool' opinion any better than one that would involve people being afraid of what he could do. He remembered Joshua's reaction - when the guy had thought it wicked cool that Dean was basically a weapon. Being considered as just a weapon was one of Dean's deepest seated fears - that, at the end of the day, that was all he was good for. He wanted to be more than that - he tired so hard every day of his life to be more than that. "And here's plenty interesting enough for me. Living in a city - it's just loud. And crowded. People everywhere, no real privacy. Can't go anywhere without there being other people there. I... I prefer it here."

"Too much trouble to get into back home? That's what that means right?" Tad asked curiously. Loud and crowded sounded appealing to Tad, but he imagined it would get old quickly. As for a lack of privacy, he could deal with that as well. Up until recently the only other person regularlly invading his space was Grams, but it wasn't often. When he'd become a teenager she'd gone the route of giving him his space while she kept hers instead of trying to be in his business regularly. Tad imagined she'd been the other way with his mom and his mom had left just after high school. Now that she had a chance to do it again she was trying a different method. It was nice for the most part, but it got lonely quickly. Never being alone sounded like a blessing. "I know a few people who say that, prefering it here. I think I need to see other places first, but I might find my way back again," Tad told Dean.

"Yeah - too much trouble back home," Dean agreed, amending that slightly. It wasn't the possibility of trouble, it was that he'd actually found it and stayed there. "I kinda... got kicked out of my last school, so my parents decided that a change of scenery would be good for me and sent me to live with my cousin," he explained, admitting to that much. "At the time, I bloody hated them for it. Annnnd then I hated them for being right, when I realised I was better here. And then I went home for a few weeks, with an eye on moving back. And then I came back here, so... Guess this is where I'm meant to be. Decision made and all."

"You got kicked out of your old school?" Tad asked with awe in his voice. Just this tidbit of information sealed the deal on Tad's James Dean rebel without a cause impression of Dean. He was a bad boy with a heart of gold or something like that. "And I guess if you've wound up liking it here, then it's not so bad right? You've got friends here and such? I don't think it's as bad with friends." It was something that Tad had discovered recently: life in Marquette was far more tolerable with a a few friends.

"It's not as cool as it maybe sounds," Dean told him, brushing it off. "Seriously - to be doing the kind of stuff you need to be doing to get expelled? It's not a happy place to be in. But yeah, I have friends here. I mean, not a whole lot but... I used to think I had a lot of friends. In Manchester? I guess you'd say I was part of the 'in-crowd' or whatever. But that was all bullshit. My friends now? They real friends. And that's better than what I thought I had before." Dean included Tad in that, and he hoped that maybe Tad knew that.

Tad considered what Dean said, but still felt as if his impression of Dean wouldn't change. "I think that changes everything. I never really had any friends, and now I have some really good ones. I was surprised at how much it changes your perspective on things. I've got people I can talk to about stuff. It comes with a little more stress than it was not having them, but I think it's probably worth it."

Dean shrugged a shoulder. "I dunno - I've never not had friends," he admitted, which was the truth - the people he'd hung out with in England had been his friends mostly since kindergarten, though a few had come and a few others had left. Andy had been the centre of everything, and Dean had been his best friend. He'd travelled along on the guy's coat-tails. More was the pity, all things considered.

"Sometimes it's alright, no expectations, no birthdays to remember, nothing like that. Plus there's no stress with how to act or what to say and whatever. You make your own schedule, you do what you want." Tad shrugged. The statement sounded as if he'd repeated it over and over again which he had. It had been his own little explanation for why his life didn't suck. But now he was noticing that it complete shit. "But generally it's sucky, and lonely. Don't try it."

"Okay - I'll take your word for it," Dean agreed, with a small smile. "And I wouldn't recommend the whole 'popular' thing. It's a joke - it's a myth. You're not. You're usually just surrounded by a load of other people who don't actually want to get to know you, in case they figure out they don't like you. And you 're too scared to actually let yourself be known, in case they don't like you. So it's just a group of people not telling anyone anything in case it all fucking implodes. And then you realise that the people you thought you knew you don't know at all. It's a mess, really."

"Yes, that sounds miserable," Tad agreed, smiling back. "I'm not gonna be on the ballot for Prom King though, so imagine I'm safe from becoming one of the popular kids." Finishing off the last of his snack, Tad tossed everything in the trash can and looked back at Dean. "I know you said you had stuff going on later, but do you have a minute to dig around in the attic some with me? I think that's where Grams stuck the video camera. I'm almost certain it still uses some sort of tape and isn't digital, but if I can find it before we go I can see if there's way to conver the data over."

Dean didn't even bother checking the time. He generally didn't. He didn't wear a watch, and any digital clocks around him would invariably fuck up. He knew he had a weirdness about him - when he was around digital clocks, they suddenly developed a thirteenth hour and started running to a twenty-six hour day. It was just screwed. And any electrical clocks he'd, sooner or later, break. It was only old wind-up clocks that survived around him and very few people had those now. "I need to be somewhere after dark, but I'm free until then," he told the other guy. He could fob Sophie off about being home for dinner. It wasn't like he really ate much, after all.

"After dark?" Tad asked, eyebrow raised again. "That usually means trouble of some sort." His tone was mostly joking. Leading the way out of the kitchen the cleared the stairs quickly and moved past his room to the end of the hall. The ladder for the attic was the pull down from the celing type and he tugged on it enough to let it fall, catching the ladder to guide it down. "You aren't afraid of old and dusty are you?"

"Nah, no trouble - just busy til then, apparently," Dean lied, smoothly. He wasn't going to be admitting plans for breaking and entering. Like he wasn't going to be admitting to murder. he wasn't stupid. Following Tad, he fell quiet until the second question. "I'm fine with old and dusty - long as you don't mind being sneezed on."

"Well try not to sneeze on me, 'cause that's sort of gross," Tad told him with a grin. He climbed the ladder quick enough, familiar with the feel of the attic from when he was younger. He only had to feel around on the wall briefly before he found the switch that lit up the room. Unlike most attics in this style house, the flooring was solid and there was some drywall up on most of the walls. Most of the space was high enough to stand it, and the area was surprisingly comfortable, minus the stacks of boxes and forgotten items scattered about. "Alright so Grams is usually pretty good about labeling things, so it shouldn't be too hard to find.

Dean followed the guy up, but hung back, not wanting to seem rude by going through whatever stuff was up here. Instead he hovered by the ladder, hands thrust into his pockets as he silently watched the other teen.

Tad glanced back, noticing Dean sort of loitering and looking out of place. "Feel free to just dig around if you want. Just don't open anything labeled 'Tad baby pictures' and we'll stay friends," he told the other boy gesturing around. The stack he'd skimmed through was mostly old report cards and pictures. If Dean hadn't been around he would have dug deeper into the boxes, scouring them for references to his parents, but he stopped short. He'd done that before and mostly just found references to his grandmother and his mother's youth. His father seemed to be the elusive character of the mix.

Dean still looked hesitant, but then tentatively opened a box and started poking around inside it. "Right, no baby photos," he agreed, with a little laugh. "S'like when we were back in England, my mum decided to show my girlfriend all of my baby photos. And then let her keep some of them - I swear I'm never going to life that one down." Especially since Thia had framed one of the ones of him as a kid and now kept it on her bedside table. That was just ...wrong... as far as Dean was concerned.

"Oh seriously? That's just cruel," Tad agreed with a sympathetic look. "Thankfully Grams hasn't come up with that idea yet, but I've not had a girlfriend before, so I suppose I don't actually know how the situation would work." He pushed aside the box of old drawings and macaroni artwork aside and spotted an older one behind it, pulling it into the light brushing off the thick layer of dust. The box looked old enough to have the camera in it. The camera itself had been bought shortly after Tad's parents had been forced to leave him with his grandmother full time, an easy way for his parents to stay caught up with day to day activities of their young child. Once they'd passed on though and Tad had lost interest in most things worth video taping the camera was tucked away. He knocked the top off the box, leaning away from the puff of dust curling up in its wake. Inside was not the camera but something far more interesting. "Holy shit."

"Yeah, cruel," Dean agreed. "I didn't know how that'd work either - guess I know now," he added, and had been going to carry on when he heard the curse from Tad and he looked over, abandoning what he was doing. "What's up?" he asked, heading over.

Tad sifted through the stack of papers in the box. Some looked like college acceptance letters with his mother's name on them, others were notes with the MSHS logo on the top of them. Seeing items from his mother's youth wasn't rare and Tad had found these sort of things before. Grams was his mother's mother and she kept pictures of Emily as a young girl around the house. What had caused the curse though was something completely different. "It's my parents," Tad said glancing up at Dean who'd made his way over; handing over a yellowed newspaper article. It was the same story he'd read online before. Just knowing that his grandmother had saved it confirmed his suspicions. Those random people with names that were made up were his parents.

Dean took the paper and scanned his eyes over it before looking back at Tad. "Your parents?" he asked, knowing the guy lived with his grandmother. He didn't know a huge amount other than that though. They'd seemed to be pretty much on a 'don't ask, don't tell', which was fine by Dean. He was used to not giving too much about himself away, and friendship didn't have to rely on opening your heart and soul to people, after all. At least, Dean didn't think so. There were lots of levels friendship could operate on. Then again, he's told something about his past today, hadn't he?

"Yea," Tad answered but he was still looking through the box and not up at Dean yet. "They died in a car wreck on my birthday when I was ten. I was looking for information on them not too long ago and found that article online. It's the right time and a generally logical location, but that's not their names. They were James and Emily Kennedy. I was pretty sure that was them, only finding it here, confirms it." He sat back on his heels holding a picture he'd pulled from the box. The shot was a small group, ten people or so, a few looking more ragged than others. James and Emily stood off the right, not on the end of the row, but not in the middle. James had his arm around Emily, who was smiling brightly with a grin that looked like Tad's. Except for the grin though, Tad strongly resembled James, who even had the same curly hair. "See that's them," Tad said pointing out his parents in the picture as he handed it over. It really was his father that had been the elusive character. Grams had helped keep at least Emily's memory prior to her graduation from high school alive, but Grams had let James' die.

"Oh, mate - I didn't know, I'm sorry," Dean said, cringing slightly with sympathy. He craned a little to see the photo, the people being pointed out. "So - that's why you live with your gran then?"

"Part of it yea. The diabetes is the main reason really. They traveled around a lot and when I got sick it just made more sense for me to live with Grams than travel. So I moved in here when I was about five or so," Tad explained, only briefly glancing up at Dean. "They died trying to get here for my birthday." He stared at their faces a moment longer, trying to fit them in with his vague memories of them.

"Shit, mate - that's... yeah. Sorry," Dean said, really not knowing what else to say. It wasn't like it was current and fresh, but still, how did you get over losing your parents? It was something he really couldn't comprehend, for all he knew how it felt to find out that someone you loved had died suddenly. It just wasn't the same, it couldn't be the same.

"Thanks," Tad responded without thinking. After over 7 years, he'd become quite accustom to others dealing with his hurt. "It's been a while, ya know? I just don't know much about them. Like what they did, why they had to travel so much and so on. Grams doesn't like to talk about them, which makes sense now that I know they died with fake names." Tad issues from learning that bit of information was starting to resurface. "Who does that? I mean why would the cops and whatever think their names were Bob and Laura?" He was asking Dean even though he knew the other boy wouldn't have an answer.

Dean's eyes darted away and to the side. He knew two people with fake identities. He'd been the driving force behind at least one of them getting that, and the cause of the other one. he also knew the cost involved, and had a good idea of the effort. It wasn't something that you did on a whim. "I dunno," he said, a lie but also the truth. He knew why some people might - but he highly doubted that Tad's parents fell into either of the groups he'd experienced. A fade and a resurrected spirit were hardly run of the mill types to know.

Tad watched Dean's eyes dart away and wondered why, but he let it slip by. It wasn't like the topic of conversation was an easy one. "I didn't either. The only thing I could think of was that they were criminals and running from the law. Porter seems to think they could be super heroes but he didn't sound very convinced by his own argument either." Tad sighed slightly, letting his mind drift. If they were criminals it would make sense that his grandmother pretended they'd almost never existed. She'd want Tad to know nothing of their history. It would explain also why she was so protective of him; why she wanted to keep him out of something even remotely close to trouble his whole life.

Dean shrugged, habitually looking back at Tad as he spoke. "Maybe it's neither - maybe they were hiding from someone," he suggested. "Like witness protection type stuff or something," he added, knowing that was the 'normal' explanation of things, though it wasn't exactly where his mind went. Then again, changing Thia's name hadn't stopped her father from finding her. But Dean still half blamed himself for that, no matter what anyone else said. he'd been complacent.

He glanced back at Dean, relieved at his answer. "I never thought of that," Tad told Dean. "I think I just assumed the worst. Which probably wasn't fair to them." His curiosity was still running at full speed, coming up with ideas about why they'd be hiding from someone, what they could have witnessed. The possibilities were endless because he really knew nothing about his parents. He might have to force a conversation with Grams soon.

Dean shrugged. "Not everyone who needs a new identity has done something wrong. Sometimes, it just needs to be done," he said, understanding that much. Thia hadn't been to blame for what had been done to her - they'd just been left to pick up the pieces. "So, what does your gran say about it all?" he asked, though his face turned a little doubtful at that, since he guessed the answer was probably going to be 'not much', since the guy had already said that she didn't like to talk about them.

"Just short of nothing. It's a topic we've avoided since they died. Sometimes she mentions my mom, but mostly from when she was a little girl or a teenager. It comes up sometimes when I'm being frustrating. 'You're just like your mother when she was your age' and such. But that's about it," Tad explained. "She rarely mentions my dad. i think she blames him for my mom leaving home." And for her getting killed, Tad thought, but kept it to himself.

"So, your gran's your mum's mum then?" Dean checked, figuring that was the case. "You ever know your dad's family? Maybe they know more about what went on. Were they both local here, or did your dad come from somewhere else? Maybe you could track down his family or something," he suggested.

"Mom's mom yea," Tad confirmed. "As for my dad's family I never met them. Not even sure if they are alive or whatever. I know he wasn't from here, he was older than mom, and he came into town for college or something. That was how they met. I think when he left, mom went with him." He hadn't thought before about trying to find his father's family.

Dean considered that. It would be harder to find people if they weren't local - they could be from anywhere. "So, er - you sure that their names were changed and not, like, yours?" he asked, carefully. Maybe it was him they'd been hiding, but then again, if they were doing that, why place him with obvious family? Except, they'd put him with his maternal grandma, hadn't they - which meant different name, not as obvious as a paternal placement... Dean could feel his brain starting to tick over things, looking at it from angles, thinking through possibilities.

"What? No. I mean they were Bob and Laura Petrie," Tad said, pointing emphatically at the the newspaper article. "That's not them. That's a joke name. Grams still refers to my mom as Emily and dad as James. Plus what's the point in changing my name? That just doesn't make..." Tad trailed off mid-sentence as his thoughts jumped on the same track as Dean's. "They'd change mine if they were trying to hide me, wouldn't they?" The thought sent chills up his spine. He was filled with an overwhelming loss of self and he sat back flat on the floor. Before, when he'd not known who his parents really were it was mind blowing, but now, not knowing who he really was he was at a completely loss of words.

Dean nodded, slowly. "Yeah, yes they would. I mean - it's probably not what happened, but well, just because your gran calls them something else, she'd... Well, if she'd brought you up to think one thing, but - look, you were, what, five? Well - you weren't like a baby when you first came to live here, right? So... You'd remember if you used to be called something else, probably. Or had a different surname or something." Though at five, parents were still 'mum' and 'dad', weren't they? They didn't really have their own names as far as most children were concerned. But still, Dean thought Tad would have remembered something like that. "And... Look, all these boxes - there's stuff that belonged to your parents in them, right? So... Old stuff like that, here, there'd be no point in faking that, and it their names in stuff here are the names that your gran's always called them, then that's probably right. Anything else and we're looking at huge conspiracy theory territory," Dean said, bordering on babbling as he tried to make up for the suggestion having seen Tad's reaction to it.

Tad's mind was racing, weighing the possibilities, looking at the situation from different angles. He and Grams had different last names and Tad hadn't seen anything on it with Emily's new last name after she married James. And hell, Tad had been called by a nickname since the day he was born, it would be not stretch to change his name without him knowing when he was younger. Hadn't he heard on some spy show that the best lies were those laced with truth? Just changing his last name would completely change who he was, plus living with his mom's mom would completely erase ties to his parents' identities as well, especially with common first names like James and Emily. Tad ran his hands through his hair, trying to concentrate on what Dean was saying. He could tell the other boy was trying to be reassuring, even if he was sort of just rambling, trying to backtrack. "Conspiracy theory is right man," Tad mumbled. "I just don't know if I've ever seen stuff that wasn't mine with Kennedy on it."

he wasn't making things better, he could tell. And Dean hated upsetting people - especially when he did it with no real reason. Him and his damn theories, and he knew very well that half the time or more they turned out to be wrong. So, he'd probably just shifted Tad's entire world view for no real reason. Fuck. "Did they get married round here?" Dean asked, clutching at that idea. "Maybe we could look up the register - there's a register, right?" he checked, figuring there'd have to be a record of that somewhere, though he didn't know how the system worked over here. Hell, he didn't even know how the system worked back in England. It wasn't anything that had ever really seemed important before.

Even with his imagination making up stories left and right, Tad somehow managed to still hear Dean's question. "I'm not sure actually. I could look into that. I don't know much about that part of their life at all really. Checking wouldn't hurt." Tad wondering briefly if the papers regarding their marriage were up here in the attic. There was always paperwork about sort of thing wasn't there?

"Right, I mean - if you want to know more about them, even if your gran won't tell you much, there's ways of tracking stuff down," Dean agreed, willing to help him out with that if his help was wanted, or needed.

"True, there's public records on almost everything. I should be able to find information on them in some way." He did know his mother's maiden name, provided that hadn't been changed as well. Grams though, had been in Marquette for too long to just up and change her name with no one asking major questions.

"If... you need help with that, I'd be willing," Dean told him, being mindful of Thia's lecture that sometimes he really needed to spell things out to other people, that he and his intentions were hard to read at times. "So, y'know - you need help, you just say, okay?" he added, automatically discounting that though, not wanting the other guy to think that Dean was overstepping, or forcing him to do anything.

Tad blinked at Dean, a little surprised. He hadn't caught the boy's intentions, which was rare. Tad typically didn't miss much, but he wasn't sure if he and Dean were friends in that regard yet. He'd hoped so but wasn't sure. "Thanks, man," Tad managed to muster out.

Dean shrugged and glanced down, then back up again as he spoke. "No problem, don't mention it." He paused, then continued. "I mean, if you don't want - just say. If I'm just poking my nose in - I don't mean to, so, just... yeah. if you'd rather I didn't - just say, but. if you wanted - then yeah. I just... yeah." God, he was such a fucking idiot with talking to people at times. He should probably just... care less about what people thought of him. That would probably make life simpler.

"You aren't. I appreciate it, I really do. I just didn't expect it." Tad was trying to be reassuring, Dean's rant of incomplete sentences reminded him of when Kaysen got really nervous and again Tad wondered if he'd said the wrong thing. "I just...didn't expect it. I might have to take you up on it though."

Dean calmed down when he got the assurance and he gave the guy an almost embarrassed half-smile. "'Kay," he said, not adding anything more as he got ahold of his tendency to ramble again. "Look, I should - I should really get going. I have... Somewhere to be tonight, but I'll see you at school tomorrow, right?" he checked.

Tad nodded, remembering that Dean had mentioned something else going on tonight. "Yea tomorrow at school. I should be there." Briefly he wondered what Dean was up to, but it might just be meeting up with his girlfriend. He trusted Dean to know trouble well enough to stay away from it. "Come on, I'll follow you down," Tad told him shoving the top back on the box and pushing it back into the corner it came from.