I am not going to eat you - Chapter 2
I am not going to eat You
Fandom - Supernatural
Rating - PG13, may become R if I add enough blood, guts and glory to it.
Warnings - Err….blood guts and gore.
Pairings - None.
Summary - Dean picks up an oddly shaped lamp at a garage sale. He gives it to Sam, unwittingly, as a birthday gift. Meanwhile, children are disappearing and John Winchester is on the hunt.
A/N - This fic contains Wee!Chesters. Yayness! This fan fic is also for Real_Funky_Town. Thank you so much, dear, for letting me podfic your “Sick Days” - which is awesome so all you people reading this aught to go and read that! - And for also encouraging me to do this fic.
Chapter 2 - Sandbox Woes!
The park was full of children. The green grass had all sorts of blankets spread about, almost making a patchwork quilt of different patterns and colours that floated across the colour wheel. Dean and Sam sat on their own blanket, an old rust orange that they’d borrowed from a motel some months ago. It smelt musty with age and moth balls. Sam was particularly fond of the fugly blanket and that was the only reason Dean had borrowed it in the first place.
Sam bit into his peanut butter and jelly sandwich with vigor. They were supposed to be having a pick-nick with Dad; who’d gotten a call from a friend and had to rush out, on the Hunt, on short notice. Dean promised Sam that’d they’d do something awesome since Dad wasn’t around and going to the park with a sandwiches, apples, lemonade and cookies was the best Dean could do. Sam, however, was excited with the idea and no more than an hour later, there they were; enjoying the long weekend with each other.
“Dean,” Sam looked up from his sandwich, “can I go play in the sandbox?” he enquired.
“After we eat, I’ll play with you,” Dean replied, not wanting Sammy to go off on his own. If anything happened to Sam, well, Dean didn’t know what he would do. Probably something stupid, knowing him. Dad would be upset and never trust him, ever!
“Okay,” Sam nodded.
They ate in silence; Sam was eyeing the sandbox with acute, brown eyes. Dean smiled from behind his sandwich.
“Wanna go now and finish eating later?” Dean asked. Sam nodded. Dean put their half eaten sandwiches into the plastic bag, one with his name on it and the other with Sam’s. Then they packed up Dean’s school back pack and folded their blanket before crossing the large field, other families and finally making it to the play ground.
Sam immediately fell onto his rump in the sand and started digging. Technically, the play ground didn’t have a sandbox, what Sam called it was actually a small corner that no one was playing in. Five feet away were the swings, and then a bit further was the merry-go-round, a slide and the Monkey Bars. Dean sat down on the curb to watch Sam try and build a sand castle. His pudgy hands moved the sand into a mound; Sam was getting down to the browner, wet-ish sand by then. His hole was almost the perfect size for an adult foot.
Sam was humming Van Halen as he played. It was normal. This, Dean Thought, was what it would have been like if their Mother hadn’t been murdered by the Demon Dad was trying to Hunt. If she’d still been alive she’d be here with them, playing with Sammy and talking to him. She’d help him with his school work, and he’d help her with Sammy. Dad would then come home from a normal job and they wouldn’t have to worry about Monsters under the bed. The salt lines took care of that worry, even now.
It was a tunnel dream; Dean knew. But, he still wanted it. Sam pulled on Dean’s shirt to drag his attention down to Earth; “Mean boys,” Sam whispered. He didn’t point as Dean looked around and saw Eric and Ben Cobbery. They were identical twins with rust red hair, deep blue eyes and freckles as clear as day, even from ten meters away from the Winchester boys. They each wore a pair of blue jeans and identical white t-shirts. One said “Eric” and the other said “Ben”. Dean always thought that was stupid, apparently, not even the Cobbery Parents could keep their kids straight.
He watched them, uneasily as the two boys meandered through the playground, pushing kids around and laughing as if it was the funniest thing they’d ever seen in their lives. Till, finally, the twins stood in front of Sam and Dean. Sam had his thumb in his mouth, not minding the sand that clung to the appendage. Dean stood, semi-glaring at the two older boys.
“What do you want?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
“Winchester, I thought we told you to stay away from our playground,” Twin Disaster number one - Eric - leered down at Dean.
Who raised an eyebrow - “Did you?” he asked - in conjunction with moving a bit in front of Sam, who still sat in the sand with his sand mound dripping somewhat back into the adult-foot-sized hole.
“Yeah, you keep away, Winchester, or your brother here gets it!” Ben said, laughing; though that didn’t last long when Dean punched the younger twin in the stomach.
“You keep your grubby hands off Sammy!” Dean hiss-yelled at the boy. Parents around the play ground looked in their direction. Sammy’s large puppy-brown eyes were filling with tears now. He didn’t know why Dean was upset, but he was beginning to understand that something just wasn’t right.
“What are you boys doing?” The shadow was that of a woman. She was dark of skin and glared down fiercely at Ben and Eric. The Twins coward.
“Nothing,” they said in unison.
“You had best leave now, before I call your parents,” Ellie threatened. Dean had Sammy in his arms now, though he still glared at Ben and Eric and they scrambled away from Ellie.
“Are you two all right?” she asked.
“How can you be here?” Dean asked, looking up at the woman.
Ellie laughed; “I was passing through, now, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, they just threatened Sammy if we didn’t leave the park,” Dean replied.
“And that’s call to punch the kid?” Ellie asked.
“They would have hurt Sammy, sooner or later,” Dean muttered. Sammy had his head lain at the crook of Dean’s neck and shoulder.
“Bad boys get hurted,” Sammy said around his thumb. He wasn’t crying thankfully.
“Where is John?” Ellie asked, suddenly aware that their father was no where in sight.
“He had ta go ta work,” Sammy supplied.
“Well, why don’t you two come and get some ice cream with me?” Ellie asked. She picked up the ugly orange blanket and Dean’s back pack. She swung on strap over a shoulder.
“Do you want me to carry you, Sam?” Ellie asked.
Sam shook his head; “No, I good with Dean,” he said and pecked his older brother on the cheek, “He good like Supaman!”
“Silly, I can’t jump across building in a single bound,” Dean teased.
“No good, Deanie! You just like Supaman!” Sam giggled.
The three walked away from the park, not caring that Sam’s sand mound was left all on its own.
- - -
“Well, John…” George Wills shook his head, “I can’t fathom it,” George was about John’s age, though his kids were older than Sam and Dean. He had bright blond hair and deep set, brown eyes. He was a farmer by trade and a Sheriff for Old Town as a hobby. He wore the tan brown uniform and a large, semi-white coy boy hat that had seen better days.
“What happened?” John asked. He and George stood in front of Laura Miller’s home. It was a ranch styled house with a wrap around porch. Inside, the family had gathered, Mrs. Jen Miller was still crying for her baby while Mr. Henry Miller was loading his shot gun.
“Laura was kidnapped, as far as I can see. There isn’t any blood and all the door and windows of the house were locked from the inside, if Laura had let anything inside, we’d have some trace of that happening. Instead, it’s as if she just vanished into thin air, like magic,” George shook his head, “There’s no other way to explain it,”
John nodded; “It could be Supernatural,”
“I bet,” George wasn’t a stranger to Johns line of work, in fact that was how he’d gotten to know Winchester in the first place, through Bobby Singer in Kansas. Bobby had assured George that John Winchester was the man for this Hunt. Though, he hadn’t been a Hunter for long, John didn’t like to take chances.
“Jen said that Laura hadn’t been sleeping well prior to the abduction, she told me that Laura had been imagining things outside her window,” George said.
“What sorts of things?” John asked.
“I don’t know, Jen said that she didn’t listen to Laura when she described whatever it is, all she knows is that it had blue hair,”
“That’s not an awful lot to go on,” John muttered.
“I noticed,” George snorted.
“Okay, I’ll see what I can come up with,” John said, he held out a hand and George shook it.
“Take care of your boy’s, John, I have a feeling that whatever this is, it isn’t finished,” George warned.
John nodded; “Don’t worry, I and my boys will be fine,”
John was home an hour later; he had several dusty tombs under his arms he’d gotten from the library and he found Ellie with his boys. They were watching television while Sam and Dean coloured at the coffee table.
“I thought you said you were going to have a nice, normal weekend with the boys,” Ellie said reproachfully.
John look almost bashful as he set the books down; “Something came up,” he replied, “Laura Miller vanished last night,”
“Oh, poor thing,” Ellie said, she looked towards Sam and Dean, “that’s too bad, how is the family holding up?” she asked.
“Not good, Henry will have a lynch mob put together within the week,” John replied.
“I’d best bring that family a meal then,” Ellie said and stood. She grabbed up her purse.
“Just spend some quality time with the boys,” she gave John a look as she passed him. He rolled his eyes but sat down on the couch, without the ugly, old books and took a long look at Sam and Dean.
“Dad,” Dean looked up from his colouring page before John could think, “Laura Miller, she goes to my school,”
“Did she say anything to you last week?” John asked.
“Yeah, she asked me how to keep clowns away,” Dean shrugged, “I told her salt would do that trick, then she never talked to me again after that,” Dean went back to colouring.
John pursed his lips. George was right. The children in this town weren’t safe. Now it was his job to put a stop to that. He was, after all, a parent. He didn’t know what he would do if one of his boys went missing; and he always prayed that wouldn’t happen to him.
- - -
TBC