Title: Deanna is eight
Author:
brosedshieldDisclaimer: If anyone owns anything in this relationship, Supernatural owns my heart. And won't give it back. And won't pay me for it. (i.e. Don't own, don't profit)
Characters: Sam, Deanna
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 634
Warnings: light hints of impending child abuse (may be triggery), blood and violence
Spoilers: none (preseries)
Summary: Deanna (8) will do anything to protect her brother.
Author notes: The second ever Deanna fic, a little darker than "Haircut". Of course,
lavinialavender beta'd.
Deanna is eight and she doesn’t like Dad’s friend, Terry, the one who collects masks and musty books. He keeps looking at her and Sam when Dad’s not there. She always carries a knife, but now she keeps it tucked in her waistband, out of sight, and another one in her boot. His eyes follow her, and she doesn’t want him to know where all the weapons are.
She keeps an eye on him, but more importantly she keeps an eye on Sam. She doesn’t let him out of her sight unless he’s safely tucked under the covers, top bunk, in the musty, windowless room, and even then she keeps an eye on the door. Dad had an emergency, and he’ll be back as soon as he can. She’ll just have to wait it out until then.
It’s late, and Terry comes down the hallway. Deanna is sitting outside their room, sewing together Sam’s bear. She has to keep on top of every little tear, or the thrift-store animal won’t have much stuffing at all. She wants to have the leg sewn up now so that if Sam wakes up with a nightmare, he’ll have something to hold onto.
Terry crouches next to her. “Are you fixing your bear, Deanna?” he asks, reaching toward her leg.
Deanna scoots away from him, keeping the bear out of reach, but staying in front of the door. “No.”
“I could get you a better bear. Do you want to see?” He moves closer again, but she can’t move away because then she won’t be blocking the door to Sammy.
“No.” She puts Bear carefully aside, so Terry can’t hurt him, and slowly gets to her feet.
“I can get you a much better bear, Deanna,” Terry says, reaching toward her. “And your daddy doesn’t have to know anything about it. Just do a little thing for me, sweetheart.”
Terry puts his hand on her shoulder, almost wrapping around her throat, and he pushes her away from the door that leads to Sammy, and she has the realization that he wants to do something horrible. He has pushed her away from Sam and now he will turn around, go through that door, and do something horrible to her brother.
She reaches into her pants for the knife, and he smiles, and then she’s cutting his fingers off her throat and there is blood everywhere. He howls and swings at her, but she rolls, comes up and hits him hard with the knife right where Dad told her to hit a man who comes at her.
He screams and arches back and she pushes the knife upward with all her strength, and Terry falls thrashing to the floor screaming horribly, more horribly than anything she’s ever heard in her life. Deanna stares at him, at the blood, at other things, and she’s shaking and she can’t move.
And then she hears Sam’s voice, and he’s screaming for her, terrified, and suddenly she can move again.
She’s inside the room, and shuts the door securely and pushes a huge trunk across it just to be sure that Terry can’t get up and get inside. She can still hear him screaming at her through the door.
Then she climbs up into the bunk and wraps Sam in her arms and puts her chin on his head. “It’s okay, Sammy,” she says. “It’s just a nightmare.”
“I c-c-can still h-h-hear it,” he says, face buried in her shirt.
“It’s just a nightmare.”
“B-B-B-Bear?”
She hands the animal to him, and he snuggles into it, and into her, and she palms the knife from her boot into her hand. As long as she is there, no one will ever hurt her brother. And as long as she has Sam, nothing can hurt.