Chapter Text
They are but the hammer, we are the arm. Hearing that sentence was Dean’s first memory. Before the scent of his mother’s hair, before the feel of his dad’s hands, he knew those words. They always rang so false to him, so cruel. Dean wondered how many broken tools lay at Winchester feet.
******
"I don't see why I have to learn Sanskrit." Dean muttered looking longingly out the window. It was a perfect day, sunny, just a little cool and Uncle Bobby had offered to show him how to throw a slider.
"Because, there are some important texts in that language and you should never rely on another's translation." John explained, yet again. They had the same conversation about Latin, Greek, and Egyptian Hieroglyphs.
"Ugh, just let me go punch something."
"No, that is the refuge of a weak mind. We are the ones who hold the knowledge. Remember -"
"They are but the hammer, we are the arm." Dean repeated by rote. For once though he decided to question it, "Uncle Bobby's a hunter. He's plenty smart."
John chuckled a little, it held little happiness, "For their sort, he is I suppose, but we are better than hunters. The Men of Letters hold more honour, prestige, and capability. Now back to your books, you don't want Sammy to outpace you."
"He's four, he can only read English and a little Latin." Dean grumbled.
"Which is more than you had at that age." Dean winced at the casual insult and got back to his books.
*****
"Look Ma, I made an EMF reader out of that old walkman I had in my junk drawer." Dean held up the device proudly.
Mary looked at the wires, the lights, and just sighed, "That's interesting dear, but shouldn't you be working on your memorizing of the demon heirarchy? You are way behind in your studies."
"Not really, and this is practical for the field." Dean started to explain what he did.
"Dean, please. You need to apply yourself more. You are 13 now, soon you'll be learning more, learning binding, location spells, methods of extraction. These gadgets serve no purpose for you."
"But for a hunter, it could..." Dean tried to protest.
"Dean! You are better than that. They are but the hammer..."
"We are the arm."
"Good boy, if you are having trouble, ask your brother for help. His latin is perfect." Mary went back to the library. Dean let the walkman fall to the ground and break.
******
"Sammy look." Dean held the machete out.
"What?" Sammy couldn't see anything different, it looked like a standard weapon.
"Look closer." Dean held the blade at an angle. There was a shimmer to the metal.
"I talked to a blacksmith and we added 3% silver dust to the iron, gives the weapon an extra whammy." Dean swung the blade, pleased with how it felt in his hand.
All those who a member of the Men of Letters had basic self defense training. Only Dean went beyond the minimum classes. All the Winchesters were fit and had excellent aim, but Dean took extra training. John had buried the report that talked of Dean's superior martial skills.
"That's nice Dean. Aren't you supposed to be studying for your exams? Dad said you need to pass this time, the elders won't let you write a fourth time." Sam shook his head, "You're 21 now Dean, no Winchester in five generations has taken this long to be accepted into the outer rings of the inner circle. Mom has me signed up to start the preliminary rounds next month."
"Well good for you. It's boring, we sit in the bunker and read and analyze when we could be out there making a difference."
"We do make a difference. Without us doing the research what would the hunters do? Where would they be?" Sam couldn't understand Dean's fascination with the Hunters. They were security at best, thugs at worst.
"Still doing the job. Uncle Bobby pretty much runs his hunter division on his own, barely calls in for help anymore. He got them affiliated with the police departments in the state and is working to create a similar program in a couple others too."
"Yeah and when they get in trouble they call here. Besides there are rumours that Bobby has his hunters working with the wrong sorts of people." Sam sounded just like their father. "Remember the family motto: They are -"
"Fuck off, I know the saying." Dean stormed away, tired of always hearing it.
******
Everyone was congratulating Sammy. At 20 he was fully initiated into the beginnings of the inner circle of the Men of Letters. There was no better researcher in 50 years they said, his grasp of languages and arcana was unparalleled. Mary wept with pride, John's chest was puffed out through the whole ceremony. Dean sat there blank.
At the party, Dean hugged his brother. "Proud of you Sammy." Dean honestly meant it.
Sam hugged him back, "Thanks. And now that I'm going to have some say in how things run, even just a little bit, I'll push for a change, so that you can begin your tests again. I'll get you through."
"Sammy, don't. I don't want it." Dean moved back.
"Come on Dean, you just need to apply yourself. You're a Winchester, this is what we are supposed to do - save the world, the family business."
"I know. I want to save the world, but I want to do it in a more practical manner." Dean hugged Sam again. "You take care of yourself okay? And ask that assistant researcher out already would you? You've been staring at her for a year." Dean winked at his brother and left.
He went back to his room and pulled the old army bag from out under his bed. It had been packed for a month, just waiting for Sam to finish all his rituals and tests. He would never abandon Sam before the kid was ready. Dean locked up his room and walked down the quiet halls. He had hoped to escape without notice, but his dad always knew when something was up.
"Dean. Where you going?"
Dean hunched his shoulders, "Out."
"That's a big bag, how long you going to be gone for?" John crossed his arms, waiting for an answer.
"I'm moving, Dad. This isn't for me. You know I'm not the right fit for this. And you know I'm the right fit for something else. Uncle Bobby has been wanting me to sign up for awhile. I signed the contract two days ago."
"I'll get you out of it." John crossed over to his son. "It's easy enough for me. Even with their ties to traditional law enforcement, I can get the papers null and void."
"I don't want you to. I want this Dad. I will be a good hunter, I know it. And so does Uncle Bobby." Dean pleaded with John, "This is what's best."
John stepped back, "You are better than them, you are a Winchester, a legacy to some of the greatest research and knowledge in the world. And you want to throw it all away to punch some demon, behead some vampire? They are but a ham-"
"Then I'll be the damn hammer, because I sure as hell am useless as the arm. Grandpa Henry, you, even Mom and Sam have made that clear." Dean yelled, frustrated. He walked towards the exit.
"If you walk out of here, don't you ever come back." John yelled.
"Sure Dad. Got it." Dean left, got into the Impala and drove two hours to the nearest hunter affiliated police station. Bobby had a uniform waiting.