This is a continuation of "
In From The Cold," part of
my Dean canon. I don't know where I was going with it.
Jessica’s boy is in the den, lookin’ at pictures. Victor studies him for a moment, takin’ in all the details: tall enough and broad enough to make even him seem small, dark hair, haunted green eyes-and he moves like a soldier.
Like a predator.
“Winchester,” Victor says, enterin’ the room. The boy doesn’t jump or even flinch. Like Victor’d suspected, he’d known the older man was there.
“Yes’re,” Sam responds, turnin’ to face Victor.
“Any kin to John?” Victor asks, and cants his head at the reaction garnered: the boy’s entire body tightens and he straightens to his full height.
His voice is soft when he says, “You know my father.”
Victor nods. “A lifetime ago. He’s a dangerous man.”
Sam laughs.
Jessica darts into the room and pulls Sam’s head down, whispers somethin’ into his ear. His laughter rings out again, different this time-loud and full. It’s a pleasant sound.
Victor thinks back to John, the most capable marine he ever trained. Quicksilver agile and frighteningly strong-dangerous. John Winchester isn’t a man that can be forgotten.
Watchin’ Jessica’s boy leave the den with her, Victor knows that trait flows in the blood.
Katerina’s cheesecake is a hit; there’s a single piece left when everyone goes to bed. Hettie bullies them into stayin’ the night, though Victor is hesitant to leave anyway.
Only Kat knows that Victor can sometimes see people’s souls, can see a part of their past or what is yet to come. He thinks that Nate may have the gift and knows that Greg did-that’s why his firstborn grandson ended his life.
Kat curls up next to Victor in the guest-bed and whispers, “What’s wrong, love?”
He presses a gentle kiss to the side of her head. “There’s clouds around Jessie. Just like there were-” He can’t finish the sentence, but she knows.
“Jessica won’t kill herself.” Katerina’s voice is solid and strong. Unyielding. “I know it, Victor.”
He kisses her lips and murmurs into her mouth, “She won’t have to. That boy will lead Evil straight to their door.”
Victor slips out of bed and Kat sits up. “Where’re you goin’?”
He smiles at her. “Downstairs for a snack. Don’t worry-I’ll be good to that boy. It’s not his fault.”
Sam’s in the kitchen, heating up some of the left-over chicken, just like Victor’d known he’d be. He looks up as Victor enters, warily.
And this one... um, yeah. I don't remember what I was planning. Would have been dark!powerful!boys, I think.
“What’s av-ava-” Three-year-old Sammy’s voice trailed off and he looked up at Dean with big puppy-dog eyes.
Dean skimmed the page. “Avarice,” he said regally. “Greed.”
Sam smiled and went back to his book. Dean shook his head and turned the page of his own.
Neither of them was particularly normal. Normal three-year-olds can’t read War and Peace in one sitting and understand everything but the parts that even adults have a hard time grasping. Normal seven-year-olds can’t shoot a moving werewolf at sixty feet and hit the heart.
Neither of them was normal. Neither ever had been. They weren’t made that way.
John Winchester knew what he had on his hands, knew what had to be done. He just... didn’t want to do it. He did love the boys, after all. He was their father.
And after Mary died, he realized her killer would go after their sons, so he fled. He took the boys, vowed to train them-vowed to make them into the greatest warriors the world had ever seen.
He succeeded, after a fashion. He also failed shockingly well.
It wasn’t until Sam’s twelfth birthday, however, that he and Dean realized just how different they were from the rest of the world.
Oh, they’d always known they were smarter, stronger, faster-just playing with children their own ages taught them that. Just watching children at the park or the playground showed them how much... better they were.
But on Sam’s twelfth birthday... he’d convinced Dad to let him have a party, to invite kids from school. It was a mistake, Dean and Dad knew it was, but they just couldn’t say no.
They should have.