Hank's trailer, Roswell, evening
Isabel had kept quiet on the ride from the Crashdown to the trailer park, silently hoping that Hank wouldn't be around.
"In and out," she said as the car stopped in front of the rundown trailer. "We've got a portal to catch." In three hours. But Isabel didn't see any reason to linger, and she was pretty sure Michael felt the same.
Michael nodded grimly, already getting out of the car.
"Don't have much to pick up."
"No harm in travelling light," Dean said easily. "You need any help?"
"Nah", Michael said, forcing a smile. "Like I said, not much to carry. No need for you to come in."
Isabel had climbed out of the car behind Michael, tempted to follow him, despite being certain that was the last thing he'd want.
"We'll be right here. Just in case."
Dean got out as well, leaning easily against the side of the Impala. "What she said."
"Okay."
Michael turned and headed for the trailer, steady strides not showing his reluctance.
Inside the trailer it was quiet, but the faint sound of snoring in the back bedroom should make it obvious Michael wasn't alone.
He glanced that way quickly, then headed for his own bedroom to collect up his things. He never left anything out in the living area for long.
A toilet flushed and heavy footsteps made their way to Michael's door. "Bout time you turned up," Hank grumbled.
Michael didn't look up at him.
"I'm not staying."
"Yeah? Where you gonna go boy?" he asked. "Back to your fancy school?"
"Hell yes, back to my fancy school", Michael retorted. "Think I was gonna stick around here? With you?"
Hank took a step into the room. "Don't mouth off at me. I'm all you've got."
"Wrong and wrong, Hank." He turned towards him, finally. "You have never been all I've got."
"Yeah, cause your family cares so much," he sneered.
"The ones that matter? Yeah. They do. And I'm gonna walk out of here when I'm done and they're gonna drive me back to Virginia."
"I don't think so," Hank sneered. "I think that school's giving you ideas. Making you think you're better then you are. I think you need to stay here. Where you belong."
Michael straightened at that like he'd been hit by lightning, whipping round.
"Like hell am I staying here."
"You eighteen yet?"
"Not yet", he said flatly, knowing the older man already knew the answer.
"Then you'll do what I say," Hank sneered. "If you know what's good for you."
"Or what, Hank?" he demanded, taking a step forward. "You'll teach me another lesson?"
"If I have to," he said, his voice rising in volume.
It's not that Isabel was eavesdropping, but the walls of the trailer were thin and she'd stepped closer to the side to listen once she'd heard the second set of footsteps moving around. At the sound of Hank's raised voice, she took off towards the stairs, not about to let him hurt Michael again.
When Dean saw Isabel take off at the raised voices, he wasted no time in following her, reaching back to grab the gun he had at the small of his back.
There was a crash from inside the trailer, then more shouting.
"You try and stop me, Hank, and you'll... don't you fucking touch that. That's mine!"
Isabel burst through the door of the small room, her hand raised. "Leave him alone!" Realizing that he hadn't touched Michael, she clenched her fists and held them close to her sides, not wanting to make an already bad situation worse.
Hank shifted his attention immediately at the interruption, as a leer spread across his face. "Well hello there sweet thing."
"You leave her alone", Michael said viciously, stepping into the way.
"You shut your mouth," Hank snarled, moving to shove Michael out of the way.
"I wouldn't do that," Dean said, standing in the doorway, gun pointed unwaveringly at Hank's head.
Hank was a mean drunk. But he wasn't a stupid mean drunk. He pulled up short, stumbling slightly. "Who the hell are you?"
"That's Dean", Michael said helpfully, slipping past him to retrieve his bag. "Remember I mentioned friends?"
"Well your friends came a long way for nothing," Hank replied, still leering at Isabel. "Unless she wants to stick around and have a drink."
As much as she'd love to TK Hank's fat ass into the wall, Isabel decided that ignoring him would annoy him more. "Do you have your stuff?" she asked Michael.
"Not yet. He got in the way. Give me five minutes?"
"And I said you weren't leaving," Hank snarled, momentarily forgetting about the gun. He stepped forward and backhanded Michael. "You do as you're told."
Dean fired a warning shot that whizzed within inches of Hank's head. "Back the fuck off or the next one's going between your eyes!" Without taking his eyes -- or gun -- off Hank, he asked, "You okay Michael?"
Michael's head snapped sideways with the blow. His mouth was bleeding when he looked up, snarling back.
"You can't stop me. Not this time." Looking to Dean, "Fine. Keep him off my back while I get what's left?"
Dean gave a wolfish grin. "My pleasure." To Hank, he said, "Go on, give me an excuse."
Cowed for the moment. Hank glared.
While Isabel took to the opportunity to grin at Dean. "I owe you coffee for this."
"Glad to help. I hate bullies," Dean said conversationally. "Though I'm not one to turn down free edibles so..."
"Donuts to. Don't worry," she promised cheerfully, despite where they were.
A few more minutes and they'd be able to leave and Michael would be safe for a while longer. And once they were back at school, she'd convince him it was time to make it permanent.
It wasn't long before Michael strode out of the bedroom, bulging duffel bag on his shoulder.
In passing, he scooped up Hank's wallet and removed the cash.
"Hey! That's my money!" Hank yelled. But conscious of the gun, he didn't move from where he was standing.
"Consider it punitive damages," Dean told him.
"Was your money", Michael corrected, tossing the wallet back down and stuffing the notes in his pocket. "Ready when you are, guys."
"Your chariot awaits," Isabel smiled, gesturing towards the door. He'd have to leave first. So that she and Dean could watch his back.
He was already heading for the door, and he didn't look back.
She waited till Michael was out the door then turned to Hank. "You won't touch him again." Without waiting for a reply, Isabel turned to leave.
"Bitch," Hank grumbled after her before turning his attention towards Dean. "You wouldn't be so tough without that gun, boy."
Dean looked at Hank, glanced down at the gun, then pulled the clip out of it and handed both pieces to Isabel.
Then he spread his arms and gave Hank another wolfish smile. "Go ahead then. Take your best shot."
Hank didn't hesitate. He drew back his fist and punched.
The problem was, he mostly depended on size and fear to keep Michael in line. In truth, he was an slightly overweight drunk bully. The sloppy punch should make that apparent.
Dean easily dodged the punch, and he grabbed hold of Hank's arm, pulling him forward and kneeing him in the gut. As he doubled over, Dean kneed him again in the face then pulled him back up to a standing position and threw a punch of his own at Hank's face.
Too many beers for too many years had slowed Hank's reflexes. Unable to dodge, the punch connected and Hank went down.
Isabel let out a slow whistle. "Forget coffee and donuts. That gets you dinner."
Dean kicked Hank in the side as he stepped over the prone body. "How many courses?"
"Up to and including dessert," she grinned, holding out the gun and clip. "Of the chocolate variety."
Dean took the gun back, sliding the clip back into place and putting it away at the small of his back. "Can there be whipped cream too?"
"Homemade even. Unless you'd rather have the fake stuff?" Isabel stepped over Hank as if he was nothing more then a particularly icky spot on the carpet. "Which is actually not bad for imitation food. You ready to get out of here?"
"Yeah. Nothing but trash in here now."
"And not worth our time," she agreed, heading out the door of the trailer. "So can I drive on the way back?"
"Hell, no," Dean told her as he followed her out.
[OOC: Pre-played with the wonderful rebelheartalien and saltandammo, NFB, NFI, OOC=<3]
"In and out," she said as the car stopped in front of the rundown trailer. "We've got a portal to catch." In three hours. But Isabel didn't see any reason to linger, and she was pretty sure Michael felt the same.
Michael nodded grimly, already getting out of the car.
"Don't have much to pick up."
"No harm in travelling light," Dean said easily. "You need any help?"
"Nah", Michael said, forcing a smile. "Like I said, not much to carry. No need for you to come in."
Isabel had climbed out of the car behind Michael, tempted to follow him, despite being certain that was the last thing he'd want.
"We'll be right here. Just in case."
Dean got out as well, leaning easily against the side of the Impala. "What she said."
"Okay."
Michael turned and headed for the trailer, steady strides not showing his reluctance.
Inside the trailer it was quiet, but the faint sound of snoring in the back bedroom should make it obvious Michael wasn't alone.
He glanced that way quickly, then headed for his own bedroom to collect up his things. He never left anything out in the living area for long.
A toilet flushed and heavy footsteps made their way to Michael's door. "Bout time you turned up," Hank grumbled.
Michael didn't look up at him.
"I'm not staying."
"Yeah? Where you gonna go boy?" he asked. "Back to your fancy school?"
"Hell yes, back to my fancy school", Michael retorted. "Think I was gonna stick around here? With you?"
Hank took a step into the room. "Don't mouth off at me. I'm all you've got."
"Wrong and wrong, Hank." He turned towards him, finally. "You have never been all I've got."
"Yeah, cause your family cares so much," he sneered.
"The ones that matter? Yeah. They do. And I'm gonna walk out of here when I'm done and they're gonna drive me back to Virginia."
"I don't think so," Hank sneered. "I think that school's giving you ideas. Making you think you're better then you are. I think you need to stay here. Where you belong."
Michael straightened at that like he'd been hit by lightning, whipping round.
"Like hell am I staying here."
"You eighteen yet?"
"Not yet", he said flatly, knowing the older man already knew the answer.
"Then you'll do what I say," Hank sneered. "If you know what's good for you."
"Or what, Hank?" he demanded, taking a step forward. "You'll teach me another lesson?"
"If I have to," he said, his voice rising in volume.
It's not that Isabel was eavesdropping, but the walls of the trailer were thin and she'd stepped closer to the side to listen once she'd heard the second set of footsteps moving around. At the sound of Hank's raised voice, she took off towards the stairs, not about to let him hurt Michael again.
When Dean saw Isabel take off at the raised voices, he wasted no time in following her, reaching back to grab the gun he had at the small of his back.
There was a crash from inside the trailer, then more shouting.
"You try and stop me, Hank, and you'll... don't you fucking touch that. That's mine!"
Isabel burst through the door of the small room, her hand raised. "Leave him alone!" Realizing that he hadn't touched Michael, she clenched her fists and held them close to her sides, not wanting to make an already bad situation worse.
Hank shifted his attention immediately at the interruption, as a leer spread across his face. "Well hello there sweet thing."
"You leave her alone", Michael said viciously, stepping into the way.
"You shut your mouth," Hank snarled, moving to shove Michael out of the way.
"I wouldn't do that," Dean said, standing in the doorway, gun pointed unwaveringly at Hank's head.
Hank was a mean drunk. But he wasn't a stupid mean drunk. He pulled up short, stumbling slightly. "Who the hell are you?"
"That's Dean", Michael said helpfully, slipping past him to retrieve his bag. "Remember I mentioned friends?"
"Well your friends came a long way for nothing," Hank replied, still leering at Isabel. "Unless she wants to stick around and have a drink."
As much as she'd love to TK Hank's fat ass into the wall, Isabel decided that ignoring him would annoy him more. "Do you have your stuff?" she asked Michael.
"Not yet. He got in the way. Give me five minutes?"
"And I said you weren't leaving," Hank snarled, momentarily forgetting about the gun. He stepped forward and backhanded Michael. "You do as you're told."
Dean fired a warning shot that whizzed within inches of Hank's head. "Back the fuck off or the next one's going between your eyes!" Without taking his eyes -- or gun -- off Hank, he asked, "You okay Michael?"
Michael's head snapped sideways with the blow. His mouth was bleeding when he looked up, snarling back.
"You can't stop me. Not this time." Looking to Dean, "Fine. Keep him off my back while I get what's left?"
Dean gave a wolfish grin. "My pleasure." To Hank, he said, "Go on, give me an excuse."
Cowed for the moment. Hank glared.
While Isabel took to the opportunity to grin at Dean. "I owe you coffee for this."
"Glad to help. I hate bullies," Dean said conversationally. "Though I'm not one to turn down free edibles so..."
"Donuts to. Don't worry," she promised cheerfully, despite where they were.
A few more minutes and they'd be able to leave and Michael would be safe for a while longer. And once they were back at school, she'd convince him it was time to make it permanent.
It wasn't long before Michael strode out of the bedroom, bulging duffel bag on his shoulder.
In passing, he scooped up Hank's wallet and removed the cash.
"Hey! That's my money!" Hank yelled. But conscious of the gun, he didn't move from where he was standing.
"Consider it punitive damages," Dean told him.
"Was your money", Michael corrected, tossing the wallet back down and stuffing the notes in his pocket. "Ready when you are, guys."
"Your chariot awaits," Isabel smiled, gesturing towards the door. He'd have to leave first. So that she and Dean could watch his back.
He was already heading for the door, and he didn't look back.
She waited till Michael was out the door then turned to Hank. "You won't touch him again." Without waiting for a reply, Isabel turned to leave.
"Bitch," Hank grumbled after her before turning his attention towards Dean. "You wouldn't be so tough without that gun, boy."
Dean looked at Hank, glanced down at the gun, then pulled the clip out of it and handed both pieces to Isabel.
Then he spread his arms and gave Hank another wolfish smile. "Go ahead then. Take your best shot."
Hank didn't hesitate. He drew back his fist and punched.
The problem was, he mostly depended on size and fear to keep Michael in line. In truth, he was an slightly overweight drunk bully. The sloppy punch should make that apparent.
Dean easily dodged the punch, and he grabbed hold of Hank's arm, pulling him forward and kneeing him in the gut. As he doubled over, Dean kneed him again in the face then pulled him back up to a standing position and threw a punch of his own at Hank's face.
Too many beers for too many years had slowed Hank's reflexes. Unable to dodge, the punch connected and Hank went down.
Isabel let out a slow whistle. "Forget coffee and donuts. That gets you dinner."
Dean kicked Hank in the side as he stepped over the prone body. "How many courses?"
"Up to and including dessert," she grinned, holding out the gun and clip. "Of the chocolate variety."
Dean took the gun back, sliding the clip back into place and putting it away at the small of his back. "Can there be whipped cream too?"
"Homemade even. Unless you'd rather have the fake stuff?" Isabel stepped over Hank as if he was nothing more then a particularly icky spot on the carpet. "Which is actually not bad for imitation food. You ready to get out of here?"
"Yeah. Nothing but trash in here now."
"And not worth our time," she agreed, heading out the door of the trailer. "So can I drive on the way back?"
"Hell, no," Dean told her as he followed her out.
[OOC: Pre-played with the wonderful rebelheartalien and saltandammo, NFB, NFI, OOC=<3]