Untitled Wee!Chester fic, 2/? [PG] Sammy, Dean, John
Untitled Fic 2/?
“Where’s the last place you saw him … the coordinates, Dean!” Trembling with fear for Sammy, Dean steadied the compass and consulted the map again, easily picking out their position and moving backwards on the trail to where he last saw his brother.
“He only stepped off the trail to take a whiz. ‘S what he said he was gonna do, and he told me to turn my back and I did. I didn’t think he’d disappear.” And he didn’t. His brow furrowed as he used his thumb to measure the distance on the map. He silently counted to himself, converting the number of thumb lengths to feet …
‘Dean! Come on … we don’t have time for this! Who knows why your brother decided to take a pi … whiz in timbucktu, the fact is he’s missing. Now, show me on the map where you last saw him.” Thank God, for some reason he couldn’t get the numbers to add up in his head. Couldn’t focus. Sammy … He shook his head sharply and laid the map on the ground, pointing to the spot on the map where Sammy had gone off trail.
Luckily, he’d been able to catch up with his dad quickly since they’d only been trailing him by a quarter-mile or so. But he’d lost precious minutes going the opposite direction, and now they’d have to double back and hope to find some hint of a trail.
“Okay, Dean. It’s only a bit over a quarter mile back, let’s hurry the hell up and get back there.” With that rough pronouncement, his dad rolled the map and slapped his chest with it, waiting for Dean to grab it before he briskly started down the trail. Dean hurried after him, stumbling a bit as he tried to watch the trail and get the map folded back up correctly at the same time. Task accomplished, the trees were a blur around them as he kept his eyes firmly on his father’s broad back.
A scream echoed through the woods. Heart pounding, Dean watched his dad’s head snap up and to the right.
“Sammy.” His father repeated his whispered plea, and then they were off.
“Come on Dean, follow me!” He was already running to keep up with his dad’s fast-moving form. But damn, the old guy could move. He was falling further behind and a little confused why they weren’t going in the direction of that scream.
His dad stopped, turning around as he waited impatiently for Dean to catch up, panting.
“This is about where you pointed on the map, son.”
“But he screamed …”
“Screams’ll echo Dean, gotta go with the facts, start with a solid point in a search. Now, look for a trail.” Echo? Huh. Okay, then. Trail. He blinked up at his dad for just a second, and then started combing the ground visually for any signs of a trail: broken twigs, foot indentions … a piece of Sammy’s shirt …
“Dad!” He pointed the small snatch of fabric out to his dad, knowing better than to move it.
“Dean! Dad!” Sam’s frightened voice echoed again, their names clearly screamed in panic. Dean blinked his eyes, wiped his brow and took a deep breath, waiting for his dad to make a move. The sound came from … his eyes narrowed and lit upon their next clue the same time as his dad.
“There! Okay …”
“Help!” Dean took a step toward his brother’s voice before his dad’s hand stopped him.
“Dean … we’ll get him. We got a solid trail and it’s easy to follow. Let’s make sure we’re going to him and not following an echo, okay, son?” Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded vaguely, not really caring what his dad said right now. He just wanted to get to Sammy.
He blindly followed his dad, immeasurably relieved as they began moving faster. Another loud scream that ended abruptly had his heart racing and he blinked back tears. He didn’t mean to let Sammy get lost, he didn’t mean it. He didn’t want him to get hurt. He wiped his eyes angrily and plowed on after his father.
A couple minutes later, they stepped into a small clearing, where thorny bushes and mostly wildflowers and weeds were growing.
“Down, Dean!” The whispered command had him dropping instantaneously, his dad beside him. “I thought I saw that thing … I want you to stay here.”
“But, dad …”
“No! Dean. I need to know you’re over here. That’s an order, son.”
“Yes, sir.” And then his dad was gone. Dean couldn’t see where he was going from his position on the ground and balled his fists, punching the ground silently in frustration. He could have helped him. Helped Sam. What good could he do from here?
**************************************************
John moved on automatic, crouching and scooting toward where he had sighted the animal, monster, whatever-in-hell that thing was. He assumed Sammy was close by - the creature sniffing for its next child-victim.
The SOB wouldn’t get his son, though. No way in hell. The number of kids disappearing in this wooded area had risen the red flag to begin with, but they had all been younger than Sammy, so he had thought his boys would be …
Focus.
He could do this. Sammy needed him to do this. A deep breath later and John raised his head to sight the area …
Just in time to see the thing land in front of him after taking a high flying leap. Before he could even absorb what he was seeing, a swift, strong backhand sent John reeling backwards, onto his own ass.
Damn!
He rolled from the balls of his feet, coming up into a centered crouch as he faced off against the thing. He caught his breath in disgust and blinked in revulsion at the creature. Just as he thought, it was just like a rawhead, only … not. He put his still researching mind on hold and paid attention the thing before him, studying it for weaknesses in the split second he had. The soft sway of a small snatch of plaid fabric on the thing’s shoulder gave John the strength he needed to attack. He didn’t waste any time - kicking out in a smooth arc to try and take the creature down.
It worked, momentarily, and the creature went down with a snarl of rage, spittle flying from its mouth. But in the next moment, the thing was back up and kicking out at John. He narrowly avoided a gut-punch but wasn’t able to block the on-coming full-body tackle that came next. He flew back from the impact, head connecting painfully with the hard ground.
He was reaching for his silver knife even as the thing bent over him, studying him like a piece of meat. He glared at it, not really appreciating the idea of being an appetizer, and used the slight distraction to drive his knife into the soft underbelly of the beast.
He twisted the knife, but couldn’t pull the blade clear to try again before the thing was standing and running away from him. In the opposite direction. Towards Dean.
No!
He scrambled to stand up, fighting back a wave of dizziness as he did so, and tracked the creature’s movements. He watched, following as fast as his weaving body would allow, as the thing stopped and scented the air, head snapping right and down as it scented something in the air.
Dean!
“Hey! You fugly SOB … come back here!” The thing didn’t even spare him a glance for all his yelling. He tried to follow faster, tried to stay in a straight line.
“No! No, no, no … Daddddd!” Dean’s panicked voice helped John zero in and run toward the creature, which was now lifting Dean up like a sack of potatoes. He couldn’t help a surge of pride as Dean kicked and screamed, punching all the while, as the thing tried to drape his small body over one shoulder. He was still several feet away when Dean lifted his head, pausing his attack for a moment to lock eyes with him.
Eyes wide open and luminous, face pale, Dean seemed to speak with his eyes for a moment. Then the creature was running, it’s longer, muscular legs taking his son further and further away. He tried to give chase, even pulled his gun up to take aim. But he couldn’t steady enough to make a clear shot. His last clear sight of Dean saw him again pounding on the creature’s back.
Dean’s voice echoed thinly behind them as John stopped, looking back in the opposite direction. He was torn. In one direction: Sam, probably hurt and scared. In the other: Dean, at the mercy of a savage creature already responsible for the deaths of several children. Sammy … had training. He could survive on his own for a while, long enough for him to get Dean back.
He studied his surroundings, memorizing trees and rocks - anything that would help him get his bearings once here again. Then he looked in the direction that SOB had taken Dean. That was … north.
Okay. He could do this. He’d go get Dean and then double back to start a grid search for Sammy. He started a steady run northwards, still thinking to himself. If he needed to get his bearings, they had a map …
Dean had the map.
Shit.