Chin Strong 7/?
Title: Chin Strong
Author: Struckthunder
Rating: hard R/NC-17
Warnings: AU, Normal Humans, Child Abuse, Angst, Violence, Rape, PTSD, Prostitution, Under Age Sex, Possible Slash, Probable Homophobia,
Spoilers: there are mentions of character from all seasons but no real spoilers, also I
switch up some relationships and locations as to where people live.
Summary: Dean had been living with a serial killer for twenty-six years, but he already knew that. What he didn't know was how it was going to change
his and his brothers lives. As he grows up Dean struggles to protect his brother and himself. After twenty-six year of this something happens and things in Dean's life begin to change, for better or for worse, well that's yet to be decided.
All Hendrickson wanted to do was sleep. He had been able to catch a few hours last night, but now he was awake and wishing he had never gotten up that morning. He was going over the people on duty last night, trying to figure out who had released the tape of Dean's confession. Most checked out although there were a few on his suspect list that he wanted to interview, but that could wait, there were more important thing to do, like find Sam Winchester.
There were people scouring the internet and phone books looking for Dean's younger brother. Under; Sam Winchester and Sam Campbell. They did find some young men by the name but it was hard to distinguish the right Sam. Each Sam had to be looked into, Hendrickson didn't want to take any chances.
"Sir?" A voice from behind him asked. Hendrickson tuned around in his chair to face the intruder. A fresh faced girl who worked as an intern stood in the doorway.
"Yeah," Hendrickson said tiredly.
"Well - I think I know who got hold of that tape." She said.
"Who?" Hendrickson said sharply, now more awake.
"Ron," She said. "Ronald Reznick. He's been obsessed with this case ever since it opened. I...I just have a feeling that it's him."
"Thank you," Hendrickson said and she left. Hendrickson looked back over his notes, and sure enough Reznick's name was there.
Hendrickson stood fast an bolted out the door in search of Reznick. He wasn't to hard to find. Reznick worked in the evidence department, and when Hendrickson reached the small office he smiled at the shaky man sitting there.
"Why don't you come with me Ron," Hendrickson said nicely.
"W-why?" Reznick wobbled out.
"You know why, now lets go." Hendrickson grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him out of the room. The FBI agent dragged him into the same interrogation room that he and Dean had been in the day before. He shoved Ron into the seat and watched him tremble with fear.
"Ron why did you release the tape?" Hendrickson asked.
"I - I don't know what you're talking about," Reznick lied.
"Sure you do, now tell me, did some one make you do it, did you do it for money? Any of these sounding familiar?"
Reznick began to cry, long, loud sobs that made Hendrickson cringe. Reznick then began to explain how he had rigged the camera and blah, blah, blah, Hendrickson really had no care for how he did it he just wanted to know why he did it. When asked Reznick blurted out that he was paid to by one of the TV networks.
"What was his name?" Hendrickson asked.
"Uh, her," Reznick corrected, Hendrickson glared at him. "Bela Talbot." He answered shortly.
Hendrickson left the interrogation room and asked one of the cops to put Reznick in a cell, as he went to do another search, this time for Bela Talbot.
Fortunately she was easy to find. One search in the police system brought up her file. She was arrested many times but never convicted, apparently there was never enough evidence that she was the culprit. This time however Hendrickson was not going to let her get away with it. He put a warrant out for her and allowed himself a moment to rest. He went back to his office to shut his eyes. He tilt back in his chair and drifted for a short while. It was hard to fall asleep when there was so much going on all around him. His mind drifted back to Dean and if he was doing alright at Jody's husband's place. The man seemed nice enough but Hendrickson hardly knew Jody as it was. He was nervous for the boy, but he did know that he was safer there than he would have been at the station. Hendrickson couldn't wait to get John to the maximum security prison, where the man cold rot till a jury sentenced him to death.
The interrogations he had with John had gotten him nowhere. The man was completely psychotic. He had no idea how Dean survived that for over twenty years, or how Sam had lived with it for only eighteen or so. It wasn't that John denied the murders, he agreed that they had happened although he remained adamant that Dean was the one who kill all those people. Hendrickson regretted going to see John earlier in Dean's interrogation, fearing that it might have been his influence that caused John to blame his son. However, blaming his son did not deter John from speaking about the murders in great detail. After near twenty minuets of listening to John Winchester, Hendrickson had enough. He knew that the man was never getting out of jail, so his interview wasn't truly needed. When he left John in his cell the man did not call after him, or tell him that it was Dean who was the real bad guy, instead he laughed. A terrible, echoing laugh, that made chills appear on Hendrickson's spine.
Just the memory of that laugh made the same shiver return to his back. Hendrickson sat forward in his chair and with his elbows resting on the desk, he pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. He pulled back and blinked the darkness away. He knew that he would be informed the moment Bela Talbot or Sam Winchester was found, so he felt slightly at a loss as to what to do. With a sigh he pulled his laptop towards him and flipped it open. He checked his mail and noted how many messages were related to the case. He glance over a few of them but didn't bother to reply to any. Then one caught his eye. Hendrickson clicked it open and held a breath as a video player appeared on his screen.
The red arrow to start the video hovered over Dean Winchester's face. Hendrickson hit play. No sound came out of the video, which he did not try to fix. He knew what Dean had said, he didn't need to hear it again. The title of the video was "The Murderers Confession," which sounded more like a book than anything else. As he watched he was able to take in Dean's emotions,instead of the story that he was so focused on beforehand. Each nervous look around the room, every flinch at a memory, the tightening of arms around his middle, were all captured by the video. From the body language Dean was presenting, Hendrickson was surprised that he was even able to get through his story of abuse and horrors. The kid was so blocked off from the world, it was easy to see; which made Hendrickson question Dean's actions in telling him his life story.
Hendrickson chewed on that idea. He rolled it over and over in his mind, trying to figure out Dean, and his motives behind telling his story. The video played and Hendrickson continued to watch. He wanted nothing more than to find the answers hidden in the tape, but he knew better. With a heavy sigh he paused the video then closed the computer with a snap. He drummed his finger over the hard plastic, contemplating calling up Bobby Singer and asking how the boy was. He then decided that he would just ask Jody before she left to give him a call later that night. Hendrickson got up from his seat and headed towards the door. Before he could open it however it opened for him.
A young man, early twenties by the looks of it, stood in front of him. The man blinked in surprise then took a step back.
"Hi, are you Special Agent Hendrickson?" He asked.
"Yes," Hendrickson replied. "Can I help you?"
"I - yeah, sorry. The lady at the front desk pointed me over here." The kid rubbed the back of his head with one hand. "Uh, could we?" He guested inside. Hendrickson shrugged and stepped back into his make shift office. The kid shut the door behind him, and bit his lip.
"Who are you?" Hendrickson got straight to the point. The kid looked nervous, sacred even. He shuffled from foot to foot before he answered.
"I'm Sam."
Author: Struckthunder
Rating: hard R/NC-17
Warnings: AU, Normal Humans, Child Abuse, Angst, Violence, Rape, PTSD, Prostitution, Under Age Sex, Possible Slash, Probable Homophobia,
Spoilers: there are mentions of character from all seasons but no real spoilers, also I
switch up some relationships and locations as to where people live.
Summary: Dean had been living with a serial killer for twenty-six years, but he already knew that. What he didn't know was how it was going to change
his and his brothers lives. As he grows up Dean struggles to protect his brother and himself. After twenty-six year of this something happens and things in Dean's life begin to change, for better or for worse, well that's yet to be decided.
All Hendrickson wanted to do was sleep. He had been able to catch a few hours last night, but now he was awake and wishing he had never gotten up that morning. He was going over the people on duty last night, trying to figure out who had released the tape of Dean's confession. Most checked out although there were a few on his suspect list that he wanted to interview, but that could wait, there were more important thing to do, like find Sam Winchester.
There were people scouring the internet and phone books looking for Dean's younger brother. Under; Sam Winchester and Sam Campbell. They did find some young men by the name but it was hard to distinguish the right Sam. Each Sam had to be looked into, Hendrickson didn't want to take any chances.
"Sir?" A voice from behind him asked. Hendrickson tuned around in his chair to face the intruder. A fresh faced girl who worked as an intern stood in the doorway.
"Yeah," Hendrickson said tiredly.
"Well - I think I know who got hold of that tape." She said.
"Who?" Hendrickson said sharply, now more awake.
"Ron," She said. "Ronald Reznick. He's been obsessed with this case ever since it opened. I...I just have a feeling that it's him."
"Thank you," Hendrickson said and she left. Hendrickson looked back over his notes, and sure enough Reznick's name was there.
Hendrickson stood fast an bolted out the door in search of Reznick. He wasn't to hard to find. Reznick worked in the evidence department, and when Hendrickson reached the small office he smiled at the shaky man sitting there.
"Why don't you come with me Ron," Hendrickson said nicely.
"W-why?" Reznick wobbled out.
"You know why, now lets go." Hendrickson grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him out of the room. The FBI agent dragged him into the same interrogation room that he and Dean had been in the day before. He shoved Ron into the seat and watched him tremble with fear.
"Ron why did you release the tape?" Hendrickson asked.
"I - I don't know what you're talking about," Reznick lied.
"Sure you do, now tell me, did some one make you do it, did you do it for money? Any of these sounding familiar?"
Reznick began to cry, long, loud sobs that made Hendrickson cringe. Reznick then began to explain how he had rigged the camera and blah, blah, blah, Hendrickson really had no care for how he did it he just wanted to know why he did it. When asked Reznick blurted out that he was paid to by one of the TV networks.
"What was his name?" Hendrickson asked.
"Uh, her," Reznick corrected, Hendrickson glared at him. "Bela Talbot." He answered shortly.
Hendrickson left the interrogation room and asked one of the cops to put Reznick in a cell, as he went to do another search, this time for Bela Talbot.
Fortunately she was easy to find. One search in the police system brought up her file. She was arrested many times but never convicted, apparently there was never enough evidence that she was the culprit. This time however Hendrickson was not going to let her get away with it. He put a warrant out for her and allowed himself a moment to rest. He went back to his office to shut his eyes. He tilt back in his chair and drifted for a short while. It was hard to fall asleep when there was so much going on all around him. His mind drifted back to Dean and if he was doing alright at Jody's husband's place. The man seemed nice enough but Hendrickson hardly knew Jody as it was. He was nervous for the boy, but he did know that he was safer there than he would have been at the station. Hendrickson couldn't wait to get John to the maximum security prison, where the man cold rot till a jury sentenced him to death.
The interrogations he had with John had gotten him nowhere. The man was completely psychotic. He had no idea how Dean survived that for over twenty years, or how Sam had lived with it for only eighteen or so. It wasn't that John denied the murders, he agreed that they had happened although he remained adamant that Dean was the one who kill all those people. Hendrickson regretted going to see John earlier in Dean's interrogation, fearing that it might have been his influence that caused John to blame his son. However, blaming his son did not deter John from speaking about the murders in great detail. After near twenty minuets of listening to John Winchester, Hendrickson had enough. He knew that the man was never getting out of jail, so his interview wasn't truly needed. When he left John in his cell the man did not call after him, or tell him that it was Dean who was the real bad guy, instead he laughed. A terrible, echoing laugh, that made chills appear on Hendrickson's spine.
Just the memory of that laugh made the same shiver return to his back. Hendrickson sat forward in his chair and with his elbows resting on the desk, he pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. He pulled back and blinked the darkness away. He knew that he would be informed the moment Bela Talbot or Sam Winchester was found, so he felt slightly at a loss as to what to do. With a sigh he pulled his laptop towards him and flipped it open. He checked his mail and noted how many messages were related to the case. He glance over a few of them but didn't bother to reply to any. Then one caught his eye. Hendrickson clicked it open and held a breath as a video player appeared on his screen.
The red arrow to start the video hovered over Dean Winchester's face. Hendrickson hit play. No sound came out of the video, which he did not try to fix. He knew what Dean had said, he didn't need to hear it again. The title of the video was "The Murderers Confession," which sounded more like a book than anything else. As he watched he was able to take in Dean's emotions,instead of the story that he was so focused on beforehand. Each nervous look around the room, every flinch at a memory, the tightening of arms around his middle, were all captured by the video. From the body language Dean was presenting, Hendrickson was surprised that he was even able to get through his story of abuse and horrors. The kid was so blocked off from the world, it was easy to see; which made Hendrickson question Dean's actions in telling him his life story.
Hendrickson chewed on that idea. He rolled it over and over in his mind, trying to figure out Dean, and his motives behind telling his story. The video played and Hendrickson continued to watch. He wanted nothing more than to find the answers hidden in the tape, but he knew better. With a heavy sigh he paused the video then closed the computer with a snap. He drummed his finger over the hard plastic, contemplating calling up Bobby Singer and asking how the boy was. He then decided that he would just ask Jody before she left to give him a call later that night. Hendrickson got up from his seat and headed towards the door. Before he could open it however it opened for him.
A young man, early twenties by the looks of it, stood in front of him. The man blinked in surprise then took a step back.
"Hi, are you Special Agent Hendrickson?" He asked.
"Yes," Hendrickson replied. "Can I help you?"
"I - yeah, sorry. The lady at the front desk pointed me over here." The kid rubbed the back of his head with one hand. "Uh, could we?" He guested inside. Hendrickson shrugged and stepped back into his make shift office. The kid shut the door behind him, and bit his lip.
"Who are you?" Hendrickson got straight to the point. The kid looked nervous, sacred even. He shuffled from foot to foot before he answered.
"I'm Sam."