Chapter Text
The youngest person ever to begin sensing eir bond was Susanne Elisabeth Maddox, a female submissive living in England in 1846. She was just six years old. She waited until the appropriate age, fourteen being considered acceptable then, to begin seeking. It didn’t take long for her to find her soulmate- he’d been waiting a long time already, having turned forty that same year. They acknowledged the next week and married on her sixteenth birthday, going on to live a long and happy life.
Generally, children begin feeling their soulbonds at the onset of puberty, around twelve or thirteen years of age. This process is casually known as “sparking.” A few years after this, usually at the age of eighteen, it is traditional to go on a trip seeking one’s soulmate, as generally soulmates are separated by a fair amount of distance.
Less is known about pairings where children have already met their soulmates face-to-face at this time, as these are extremely rare. Evolutionary scientists posit that most bondmates are somewhat geographically distant to introduce helpful genetic diversity into the species, as well as to perpetuate stable relationship bonds.
Concordance education begins in kindergarten in most schools, but even then it is uncommon for a child to actually identify as a dominant or submissive until they are older. Some parents claim to know since infancy what their child’s orientation would be, but no one takes such claims at all seriously- they’re just as likely as not to be wrong. Children tend to actually settle in an identity around the time they spark, or a little later, by the age of about sixteen.
It would be unheard of for a child as young as Dean Winchester, currently aged three years and five months, to even know his own orientation. He was a sweet little boy, gentle and eager to please, and his mother thought he might be taking after her submissive nature, but she knew identification was years off.
Even more impossible would be any kind of bond emerging. It would have to be such an unusual case as to literally never have happened before. It would defy all science and culture knew about the bond.
But Mary Winchester was the boy’s mother, and looking at his face, as she walked through the doors of her house with her infant son in her arms for the first time, she knew. She knew in her very soul, just like she knew John was the man she was meant to be with, that there was something very strange in the way Dean looked at his brother.
She puts the baby to bed and then kisses Dean goodnight, collapsing into her own bed at long last.
John wraps an arm around her waist and murmurs, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s got to be nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“Did you see anything… anything strange at all? Today? When we brought Sam home?”
“Dean might be a little jealous, but that’s to be expected. He’ll get used to it.”
“No. I mean… anything… never mind.”
“Tell me, honey.”
“John-“
“Come on,” he urges, just a hint of a threat in his voice. She obeys.
“I think… I think they might be bondmates.”
“What?”
“It’s- it’s just the way Dean looked at Sam. It’s the way I looked at you, when you first walked into my life.”
“So he’s excited to have a brother. We should be glad.”
“No, it was… it was something more, John. I’m sure of it.”
He sighs. “All right. Listen to me. If it is something… if it is something unnatural with the bond happening between them, we’ll figure it out when they’re older. They’re just babies now, it’s not like any harm is going to come from them being… a little extra close. That sound right?”
“Yes. It does.”
“And if it’s still a problem when they should be starting to spark, we’ll take them to a therapist and get it all sorted out. They can block if they have to, maybe, or they’re always talking about permanent renunciation… something. But it probably won’t work out that way.”
“You think so?”
“I do. You’re tired, Mary. You’re tired and you had a baby today, for Chrissake. It’s no wonder you’re a bit loopy. Now, you lean right against me, there’s my girl, and you go right to sleep. Trust me on this, sweetheart, there’s not a thing to worry about. Not a thing in the world. I’m here.”
“I trust you. You know I do.”
John senses her continued unhappiness, but he doesn’t say anything, just combs his fingers through her hair until she falls into a fitful sleep.
When she wakes up, though, the fears of the night are already drifting away. There’s breakfast to be made, and John to see off to work, and friends coming over with casseroles and congratulations. She finds it embarassingly easy to put Dean in charge of watching the baby while she attends to her visitors.
As she heals from the birth, and as Sam grows a little older, she begins giving Dean more and more time with him. Whenever he’s not nursing or napping, he’s generally playing with his big brother. It gives her time to get the laundry and cooking done, even time to sit back with a book once in a while. She always keeps half an eye on them, though. Well, for the first few weeks.
Dean is just so good with the baby. He’s gentle and attentive and caring. He listens to Sam’s baby babble affectionately and passionately. He flicks the fan in the living room on and off over and over again, standing on a chair to reach, while the baby watches in wonder. He clutches brightly colored toys in his fat little fist and moves them in patterns so Sam’s eyes can follow. He tells his brother elaborate stories about magical creatures, and they almost make her laugh they’re so far from the dark truths she knows about the world. And every time fitful Sam drifts off into sleep, it’s because his big brother has sung him “Hey Jude” as a lullaby, just as she does for Dean when he can’t sleep.
He’s a good brother. And whether that’s just because of his disposition or because of… something else, something she doesn’t want to think about, she eventually lets him become as close to Sam as he wants to be.
She never sees him make even the slightest move toward anything inappropriate. Once or twice he brushes his fingers across Sam’s joining spot when holding the baby, but that could easily be an accident.
Mary suspects she’s making excuses. She doesn’t want to make a fuss over this when she has a house and a family and two children and a dom to juggle. She doesn’t want to have John laugh off her concerns again, and she doesn’t want- especially doesn’t want- the government getting involved and maybe seperating her boys. She has to believe that ignoring this is in their best interests. It’s not just to make her life easier, it’s really what’s best for her sons. And if it doesn’t go away, or anything really wrong starts happening, she’ll take them to a bond therapist. There has to be someone out there who can help. If anything is even wrong.
John senses her distress, but he can’t do much about it. She doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. In fact, she outright refuses. John presses just a little, and she feels his growing worry through the bond, but she ignores it, and he lets it go. The most she does is sometimes letting a sigh or two escape when she’s lying next to him as he sleeps.
One night, Sammy starts crying loudly enough to wake them both up. “I’ll get it,” she whispers to John, who nods, still half-asleep. The sound of his brother crying usually wakes Dean up, but the one thing he can’t do for Sam is feed him when he’s hungry. She stops off briefly in Dean’s room and checks to make sure he’s still in bed. Then she goes in to soothe the baby back to sleep.
As she opens the door, she thinks about how there really is something wrong. She should talk to John about it again. It’s getting to a point where both of them can think of little else- her focus always on the relationship between her sons, his always on her distress.
She’s decided. First thing in the morning, she’ll talk to John. She’ll tell him her concerns, her proof, everything. They’ll get through this as a family.
That’s her last thought as she steps into the room and sees that Sam isn’t alone in the room.