DA/SPN Fic: To Conceal a Fox (2/4)
Title: To Conceal a Fox, Chapter 2 (of 4)
Author: lori_leaf
Betas: nocturnal08, thevulgarvirgin
Genre: Gen (Wee!Chesters, Sam is 15, Dean is 19)
Rating: R (Language, disturbing imagry, child abuse - because nothing about Manticore isn't abusive.)
Summary: John only has two sons. So why is there a boy who looks just like Dean, only several years too young?
Author's Notes: The title is from the Spartan legand about the boy who hides a fox in his shirt, and is clawed to death. Children were supposed to admire him for his silence. The boy was a good soldier.
The timelines for both shows have been adjusted. It is 2007. The Manticore escapee's escaped in 2005 when they were eight years old. The Pulse happened shortly afterwards.
Back in his quarters when John met the boys for dinner, he decided not to mention Samuel Johns and his uncanny similarity to Dean. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling out an old snapshot, marveling at the resemblance. He couldn’t help a little paranoia at the exact likeness. What was he, a shapeshifter? Some kind of supernatural monster? But there was no evil in the boy’s eyes and John had been in the business long enough to trust his own instincts on that.
It was best for him and the boys to be focused on their mission. Kids were disappearing from the Academy. Most of the pathetic parents who sent their kids to this misery pit didn’t seem to care about the disappearing kids, but rumors had been spreading steadily about students being kidnapped from the dorms. Weird things had been happening at the Academy, and it was John’s job to stop them. He just wished he hadn’t brought his sons along this time.
“Anybody bothering you boys?” He caught Dean’s eye over his plate of re-hydrated mashed potatoes. After witnessing Mr. Walter’s brutality today, John had to be sure no one hit his kids and he expected Dean to keep an eye on his little brother when he couldn’t be there. The teenager nodded, understanding.
Sam looked up from attacking his mashed potatoes. “There’s a lot of loudmouth students, but mostly teachers have been leaving me alone. Teachers like me.”
Dean rolled his eyes, “Of course teachers like you. You’re a freak who likes school.”
Sam loaded a spoon full of mashed potatoes to flick at his brother, but John’s look of warning had him reconsidering. With a grin, Sam redirected the potential missile, stuffing his cheeks like a chipmunk.
“Chew, Sam,” John reminded him.
Dean rolled his eyes at his brother’s antics, but turned his attention to his father with a pathetic moan. “Dad, I’m nineteen. I’ve graduated high school. Why do I have to be a senior again? I was seventeen once, I don’t need to repeat the experience.”
John raised his eyebrows at his son. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, “I need the backup. No one’ll take a nineteen year old senior. Luckily you have a baby face, kiddo.”
John knew it was pushing the limits, but he couldn’t resist pinching one of Dean’s cheeks. His eldest just whined louder and dodged back. John didn’t even try to hide his laugh.
Dean glared, “Very funny. Do you want to solve this case or not? Because I’m officially sick of school uniforms.”
“If you’ve got information, boy, you’d better spill.”
Dean leaned forward in his seat and placed his elbows on the table, “I’ve been asking around about the missing kids. Most of the older students don’t know crap, but the little guys are all terrified. It’s only the fifth graders who get nabbed. There’s something weird going on with that whole grade. The teachers are sort of bastards everywhere, but the fifth grade teachers are real jerks. They beat those kids.”
Dean looked baffled. He understood supernatural monsters, but just couldn’t comprehend human ones. “I don’t get it, dad. Even those teachers who teach all levels, bully the fifth grade in particular. Mr. Walters gave me some licks for not writing him poetry, but I hear he beats this little boy every day. And not just five licks for being dumb. He seriously beats this kid.”
John’s eyes narrowed, murderous. “Did Walters hurt you?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Geez Dad. No, you’ve given me worse then he did. He was just pissed off because me and Emily Dickinson aren’t friends. I mean, that chick was seriously twisted. Plus, since I’m not really a high school student, I shouldn’t really have to do homework.”
John’s raised eyebrow told Dean what he thought about that statement. Dean ducked his head. John ignored the urge to start the old “you don’t apply yourself in school” argument again. Instead he turned to Sam. “What about you, Sam?”
Sam was no longer playing with his food, and the kid looked pale at Dean’s story. “That’s what the tenth graders are saying too. Some of the teachers pick on the little kids, and then a few weeks later the kid just disappears. Do you think it’s a spirit?”
John nodded, though he was starting to wonder if the kids were just running away. God knows he’d run away if he was getting that kind of abuse. And where the hell were these kids parents? The kids had completely disappeared. He couldn’t find records of them surfacing anywhere, even as bodies. Granted, it was harder to find reliable information since all the computers fried after the electromagnetic weapon went off. But if the papers got wind of a little girl or boy reuniting with their family after running away from an abusive environment, they’d be all over it. Everyone loved stories with little kids. The thought was sobering and John couldn’t help thinking of Samuel Johns and his too-old eyes.
John was beginning to hate this mystery. And he definitely hated this school.
A bell rang, reminding the Winchester that dinner time was over. John looked forward to his private dinner with his boys, but once that bell rang the boys had to head back to their dorms or face consequences. “Be good,” he said, and this time he really meant it. He didn’t want to give these guys any excuse to come down on his boys.
Sam and Dean shared a look, before stuffing their faces as they shrugged into their red uniform jackets. “Sammy’s always good,” Dean teased, ruffling Sam’s hair.
“Shut up, Dean,” Sam griped.
They said their goodbyes and quickly ran off to their respective dorms to get ready for lights out.
Left alone once more, John picked up the dishes, heading over to the sink. He was thinking about Samuel Johns. He had to try to find out more about this kid. He was the target age for whoever was stealing fifth graders. And based on Dean’s recon, he was definitely in trouble.
John waited a few more hours until after the lights out bell had rung, and people had gone to sleep. He’d be a wreck for his classes tomorrow, but luckily gym and shop didn’t require too much of John’s attention in order to function.
He slipped quietly through the halls. It was almost two a.m. and the place should have been empty except for the night guard. The light was on in the Headmasters office though, and John crept closer to investigate.
As he got closer, he heard the sound of a struggle ending abruptly with a loud thump. John raised his gun and barged through the door.
The ten year old who looked like Dean was standing over the limp pudgy body of the Headmaster, trembling like a leaf, fresh blood on his hands. The Headmaster was definitely dead. A letter opener had been plunged into his throat.
That was the first thing John noticed. The second thing he noticed was both of them were naked. The boy’s uniform was practically shredded. Mitchell’s suit had survived better. It was carefully folded and placed carefully on a chair. Samuel didn’t lie to John about his injuries. His bottom was deeply bruised, and there was a purple and pink contusion around his left bicep. If John looked hard enough he could see the dark smear of a thumb in that colorful mark. He was whipcord thin, like a stray puppy. His bare feet made the kid look even younger then he was. There was something vulnerable about his toes gripping the carpet.
Samuel barely acknowledged John’s entrance. He stared blankly at the dead man.
“I couldn’t do it.” His voice was monotone. “I tried. I tried to complete my mission, sir. I failed.”
A thought suddenly occurred to him and Samuel looked up at John like a terrified rabbit, “Don’t take me back I can’t go back. Please, sir. I’m sorry I didn’t complete my mission. I’m sorry ”
John froze. He had no idea how to handle this situation. The boy’s pleading became more frantic. It was only when the child shoved a manila folder at him, that he moved. John wrapped his coat around the hysterical boy and tried to shush him.
“We’re going. I won’t take you back. We’ll go someplace else. Someplace safe. You’re okay kiddo. I got you. You’re okay. Just quiet down for me, okay? We gotta be quiet or else we’ll get caught. I can take you someplace safe, but only if you can settle down for me...”
The boy was suddenly silent, sinking into some kind of shock that made John even more nervous. The defiant boy from earlier that day was gone and now he just seemed... defeated. John tried to find the boy’s shoes, but it was useless. The kid looked ridiculous wrapped in John’s ugly polyester red coat, like a giant bathrobe. His bloody hands were hidden under the too long sleeves. John knew the boy was too old to be carried, but he didn’t want him wandering all over the place in his bare feet. John failed to protect the kid earlier. He’d be damned if he’d let the kid’s feet get cut up. The kid was officially under John’s protection now. Fuck the mission. John lifted the boy with one arm and held him to his chest. Samuel hugged at the manila folder like it was a teddy bear. Other then hitched breathing, the kid didn’t make a sound.
John had to move quick. The situation was bad. Definitely bad. He had to get his boys out of here and screw the mission. Maybe Bobby could take care of it later, but John definitely had to bail. He rushed to Dean’s dorm first and set the boy down in the hallway. John placed his finger against his lips and Samuel nodded in understanding. He wouldn’t move or speak.
John snuck into the senior boys dorm and touched Dean’s shoulder. He was proud that Dean woke immediately and completely. He’d trained his boys well. They knew this was a hunt. One nod of John’s head told Dean that they were leaving. Dean slipped into his clothes quickly and silently and followed his dad out. It was only Dean’s training and John’s stern look that kept him from asking about the little boy wrapped in John’s jacket leaving bloody hand prints on a folder, waiting in the hallway. John picked the kid up again and nodded to Dean.
The trio rushed to Sam’s dorm and the procedure was repeated, this time with Dean and the kid waiting in the hall. Sam was harder to wake, blinking up sleepily at his father. But he was just as quick to leave. Dean may have teased him about liking school, but no one was crazy enough to like this school.
John prayed that they wouldn’t run into the night guard as they rushed towards the Impala. His family had nothing but the clothes on their backs. Anything brought into the school, would be left behind. It was a Winchester lesson learned early. Never bring anything of sentimental value on a hunt. John hoped that they would just fade away like those missing kids. No one would look for them. It was a vain hope. Except for the boy, they didn’t fit the pattern, not to mention the dead body they were leaving behind. The cops would assume John was responsible for the headmaster’s murder. Well, better John then a little kid with Dean’s face.
The only hitch they had on the way to the car, was the giant gates that locked all the kids in at night. Dean picked the lock, but it took longer then it should have and John’s stomach twisted with every wasted second.
The car was exactly where he hid her, and for once his boys didn’t argue about who got the front seat. They both surrendered the spot to the silent child their dad brought along with them.
The Impala purred as she started up, and John quickly put as much distance between his family and that school as possible.
John noticed the child shivering in his jacket, and he silently raised the heat. He tried not to pay attention to the sticky blood stains the boy was smearing on his jacket. There was something especially gory about thick scarlet blood, staining orange-red polyester. John would look forward to burning that jacket in the future.
His sons showed surprising self restraint as they managed to keep quiet for almost an hour. Finally Sam broke first, “Dad? Who is he?”
John glanced in the rear view mirror at his boys. “Says his name is Samuel Johns. We needed to get out of there. I took him with us. You gonna argue with me about it, Sam?”
Sam shook his head. “No sir. Just wondering...”
The boy seemed to shake harder at the Winchester’s discussion. John had to admit that maybe his shivering wasn’t from the cold.
“Dean, can you get up here?”
Dean only looked surprised for a second before he climbed over the front seat and settled in between his dad and the new kid.
John said in a low voice, “Can you settle him?”
The boy was obviously spooked, with good reason. Unfortunately John needed both hands on the wheels and his focus on the road, just in case they were followed. And Dean was good with kids.
“Hey buddy... Um, what’s your name?” Dean spoke to the boy like he was much younger then he was. John half expected the kid to be insulted at the coddling.
“494.”
Dean and John exchanged a confused look. John asked, “No kiddo, what’s your name?”
The boy repeated, “494.”
John said, “I thought it was Samuel Johns.”
The boy clenched and unclenched his hands, staring at the blood that had slowly dried in clumps and flaked off. “That’s my cover. My designation is 494.”
He suddenly reached across Dean to grab at John’s arm, “You aren’t going to send me back, are you? I’m sorry I didn’t complete my mission. I was able to gather the information you wanted, but I couldn’t complete my training. I’m sorry, sir. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t send me back ”
Dean carefully put his hands on the boy’s shoulders and pulled him away from his dad. “We’ll go someplace safe. I promise.”
John nodded his approval at his son. Dean even phrased it like his dad had. The little boy settled down, mildly reassured.
As John continued to drive, Dean was able to clean the kid up. Most of the blood came off thanks to dozens of handiwipes they always stole from barbeque restaurants. The kid wouldn’t really be clean until he was shoved in a shower, but he looked less like an extra from a horror film.
Neither of his boys seemed to recognize the similarity between Dean and Samuel... or 494, or whatever the kid’s name was. The more John looked at him, the more he could see minor differences. Dean was always a cute kid, but this boy was downright pretty. It was like all of Dean’s mild flaws were erased in the kid. The boy was the movie star version of Dean as a ten year old. It was downright creepy. Part of John still wondered if the kid was a shape shifter or a doppleganger. Part of John wanted to get his sons away from him, a potential monster. But mostly John just saw a younger version of his son, and the boy was terrified. He couldn’t bring himself to scare the kid further and he certainly wasn’t leaving him alone.
The Winchester drove in silence as dawn finally broke. John continued to drive, wanting to get as far away as possible before the shit hit the fan at the Academy. He had a lot of questions about the boy, but they had to wait. It was only when he was too exhausted to drive anymore that John pulled up to a motel. He left his boys in the car as he ordered a room. It was better not to let people make a connection between the disappearance of four people from the Academy, and their sudden appearance at Sunny Lake motel.
John pulled around to the back of the motel before unloading the kids. Sam was being unusually obedient, but John figured that was because there was an obviously traumatized little kid in the mix for the moment. It only took a few minutes before he got all three boys, and their duffle bags into the room.
It was a standard room with two full sized beds. The carpet was dirt brown, the walls were a sandy color, and the covers on the beds were grass green. John felt like an ant. His boys flopped face first on the bed closest to the bathroom, but the little kid was unusually alert. He seemed to be memorizing the room, looking for exits, but maybe John was reading too much into it. After all, what sort of ten year old automatically tries to scope out a new environment? The boy was probably just as fascinated with the lawn color scheme as John was. Honestly, who designed the damn room? It was hideous.
“Dean, salt the doors and windows, “John ordered, sitting down on the other bed and pulling the skittish boy to stand between his knees. Dean groaned, knowing that the urgency had somewhat passed, but he quickly revived himself to do as he was told.
“Are you hurt?” John pulled the red coat tighter around the kid.
He shook his head.
“Did Mitchell force himself on you?”
The boy shuddered, but shook his head again.
“Can I trust you not to lie to me?”
The boy nodded.
John seriously did not want to be having this conversation. But it had to happen. “If anything happened, you got no reason to be embarrassed. It wasn’t your fault. But I gotta know because a hurt like that... it’s better to tell me about it now, then for it to get worse. Understand?”
The kid’s jaw clenched, and John couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what was going on in his head. Even when Dean got into his quiet moods, John could still usually read him. This kid had a hardcore poker face.
After a moment of silence, John gave up for tonight. “Okay. Why don’t you go take a shower, and I’ll see if I can find some clothes for you.”
The boy nodded once more, and for a moment John was worried the boy resembled Dean in more than just a physical way, and he’d end up refusing to speak for six months. “Hey kid, seriously, what’s your name?”
It took the child a second to answer. John could almost see the boy physically rearranging his mask to hide his fear.
Sam and Dean were doing an admirable job pretending to be asleep and not blatantly eavesdropping. The kid glanced over at them before answering, obviously not fooled by their thespian skills.
“Don’ have a name. I got a designation. I’m X5-494,” his tone was getting mulish, harder than it should be coming from a kid so young. “Little more unique then being your average Joe... or Sammy,” he said, glancing condescendingly over at the fifteen year old, who looked offended, despite being ostensibly ‘asleep.’
494 managed to smirk at John.
“That’s not a name. I’m impressed though. After a night like this, you still manage to be a smart aleck.” John raised an eyebrow, thinking of something. “So for now, we’ll just call you Alec... okay?”
The kid shrugged, “Suits me just fine.”
“That it does. Now get your ass into the shower so we can all catch some sleep. I promise I won’t interrogate you until tomorrow.”
John meant for it to be gentle teasing, but from the way all color drained from Alec’s face, the boy thought he was absolutely serious.
Dean gave up the act. “He’s just kidding. Don’t freak out.”
Alec muttered something about common vernacular before going to shower.
It took some searching, but John was able to find a t-shirt of Dean’s and some drawstring sweat pants of Sam’s that would... well not “fit” the kid, but not fall off of him either. John definitely needed to do a supply run because nothing was more conspicuous then a ten year old dressed in clothing that obviously didn’t belong to him.
Once the boys settled down in the bed nearest the bathroom, they fell asleep almost immediately, this time for real. Dean made sure his knife was under his pillow, but barely took his shoes off before crashing. Alec looked at the floor when he came back from his shower, but still crawled into bed with John. The kid seemed to think John expected it. John didn’t want to think about that one too hard. He lay almost flush with the wall, trying to give Alec as much room as possible on their bed. But Alec lay as close to the edge as possible, as straight as a board. John knew he wasn’t asleep even though the boy faked it better then his own boys did. If John didn’t desperately need the rest to function tomorrow, he would have slept on the floor, or the chairs, but there’s no way his back wouldn’t seize up if he attempted it.
Tomorrow he’d get his little family sorted out. He’d figure out what was going on with Alec and the Academy, and get his kids even further away from the scene of the Headmaster’s death. But today he’d just catch some sleep and be satisfied that all three boys were safe for now.
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four
Author: lori_leaf
Betas: nocturnal08, thevulgarvirgin
Genre: Gen (Wee!Chesters, Sam is 15, Dean is 19)
Rating: R (Language, disturbing imagry, child abuse - because nothing about Manticore isn't abusive.)
Summary: John only has two sons. So why is there a boy who looks just like Dean, only several years too young?
Author's Notes: The title is from the Spartan legand about the boy who hides a fox in his shirt, and is clawed to death. Children were supposed to admire him for his silence. The boy was a good soldier.
The timelines for both shows have been adjusted. It is 2007. The Manticore escapee's escaped in 2005 when they were eight years old. The Pulse happened shortly afterwards.
Back in his quarters when John met the boys for dinner, he decided not to mention Samuel Johns and his uncanny similarity to Dean. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling out an old snapshot, marveling at the resemblance. He couldn’t help a little paranoia at the exact likeness. What was he, a shapeshifter? Some kind of supernatural monster? But there was no evil in the boy’s eyes and John had been in the business long enough to trust his own instincts on that.
It was best for him and the boys to be focused on their mission. Kids were disappearing from the Academy. Most of the pathetic parents who sent their kids to this misery pit didn’t seem to care about the disappearing kids, but rumors had been spreading steadily about students being kidnapped from the dorms. Weird things had been happening at the Academy, and it was John’s job to stop them. He just wished he hadn’t brought his sons along this time.
“Anybody bothering you boys?” He caught Dean’s eye over his plate of re-hydrated mashed potatoes. After witnessing Mr. Walter’s brutality today, John had to be sure no one hit his kids and he expected Dean to keep an eye on his little brother when he couldn’t be there. The teenager nodded, understanding.
Sam looked up from attacking his mashed potatoes. “There’s a lot of loudmouth students, but mostly teachers have been leaving me alone. Teachers like me.”
Dean rolled his eyes, “Of course teachers like you. You’re a freak who likes school.”
Sam loaded a spoon full of mashed potatoes to flick at his brother, but John’s look of warning had him reconsidering. With a grin, Sam redirected the potential missile, stuffing his cheeks like a chipmunk.
“Chew, Sam,” John reminded him.
Dean rolled his eyes at his brother’s antics, but turned his attention to his father with a pathetic moan. “Dad, I’m nineteen. I’ve graduated high school. Why do I have to be a senior again? I was seventeen once, I don’t need to repeat the experience.”
John raised his eyebrows at his son. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, “I need the backup. No one’ll take a nineteen year old senior. Luckily you have a baby face, kiddo.”
John knew it was pushing the limits, but he couldn’t resist pinching one of Dean’s cheeks. His eldest just whined louder and dodged back. John didn’t even try to hide his laugh.
Dean glared, “Very funny. Do you want to solve this case or not? Because I’m officially sick of school uniforms.”
“If you’ve got information, boy, you’d better spill.”
Dean leaned forward in his seat and placed his elbows on the table, “I’ve been asking around about the missing kids. Most of the older students don’t know crap, but the little guys are all terrified. It’s only the fifth graders who get nabbed. There’s something weird going on with that whole grade. The teachers are sort of bastards everywhere, but the fifth grade teachers are real jerks. They beat those kids.”
Dean looked baffled. He understood supernatural monsters, but just couldn’t comprehend human ones. “I don’t get it, dad. Even those teachers who teach all levels, bully the fifth grade in particular. Mr. Walters gave me some licks for not writing him poetry, but I hear he beats this little boy every day. And not just five licks for being dumb. He seriously beats this kid.”
John’s eyes narrowed, murderous. “Did Walters hurt you?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Geez Dad. No, you’ve given me worse then he did. He was just pissed off because me and Emily Dickinson aren’t friends. I mean, that chick was seriously twisted. Plus, since I’m not really a high school student, I shouldn’t really have to do homework.”
John’s raised eyebrow told Dean what he thought about that statement. Dean ducked his head. John ignored the urge to start the old “you don’t apply yourself in school” argument again. Instead he turned to Sam. “What about you, Sam?”
Sam was no longer playing with his food, and the kid looked pale at Dean’s story. “That’s what the tenth graders are saying too. Some of the teachers pick on the little kids, and then a few weeks later the kid just disappears. Do you think it’s a spirit?”
John nodded, though he was starting to wonder if the kids were just running away. God knows he’d run away if he was getting that kind of abuse. And where the hell were these kids parents? The kids had completely disappeared. He couldn’t find records of them surfacing anywhere, even as bodies. Granted, it was harder to find reliable information since all the computers fried after the electromagnetic weapon went off. But if the papers got wind of a little girl or boy reuniting with their family after running away from an abusive environment, they’d be all over it. Everyone loved stories with little kids. The thought was sobering and John couldn’t help thinking of Samuel Johns and his too-old eyes.
John was beginning to hate this mystery. And he definitely hated this school.
A bell rang, reminding the Winchester that dinner time was over. John looked forward to his private dinner with his boys, but once that bell rang the boys had to head back to their dorms or face consequences. “Be good,” he said, and this time he really meant it. He didn’t want to give these guys any excuse to come down on his boys.
Sam and Dean shared a look, before stuffing their faces as they shrugged into their red uniform jackets. “Sammy’s always good,” Dean teased, ruffling Sam’s hair.
“Shut up, Dean,” Sam griped.
They said their goodbyes and quickly ran off to their respective dorms to get ready for lights out.
Left alone once more, John picked up the dishes, heading over to the sink. He was thinking about Samuel Johns. He had to try to find out more about this kid. He was the target age for whoever was stealing fifth graders. And based on Dean’s recon, he was definitely in trouble.
John waited a few more hours until after the lights out bell had rung, and people had gone to sleep. He’d be a wreck for his classes tomorrow, but luckily gym and shop didn’t require too much of John’s attention in order to function.
He slipped quietly through the halls. It was almost two a.m. and the place should have been empty except for the night guard. The light was on in the Headmasters office though, and John crept closer to investigate.
As he got closer, he heard the sound of a struggle ending abruptly with a loud thump. John raised his gun and barged through the door.
The ten year old who looked like Dean was standing over the limp pudgy body of the Headmaster, trembling like a leaf, fresh blood on his hands. The Headmaster was definitely dead. A letter opener had been plunged into his throat.
That was the first thing John noticed. The second thing he noticed was both of them were naked. The boy’s uniform was practically shredded. Mitchell’s suit had survived better. It was carefully folded and placed carefully on a chair. Samuel didn’t lie to John about his injuries. His bottom was deeply bruised, and there was a purple and pink contusion around his left bicep. If John looked hard enough he could see the dark smear of a thumb in that colorful mark. He was whipcord thin, like a stray puppy. His bare feet made the kid look even younger then he was. There was something vulnerable about his toes gripping the carpet.
Samuel barely acknowledged John’s entrance. He stared blankly at the dead man.
“I couldn’t do it.” His voice was monotone. “I tried. I tried to complete my mission, sir. I failed.”
A thought suddenly occurred to him and Samuel looked up at John like a terrified rabbit, “Don’t take me back I can’t go back. Please, sir. I’m sorry I didn’t complete my mission. I’m sorry ”
John froze. He had no idea how to handle this situation. The boy’s pleading became more frantic. It was only when the child shoved a manila folder at him, that he moved. John wrapped his coat around the hysterical boy and tried to shush him.
“We’re going. I won’t take you back. We’ll go someplace else. Someplace safe. You’re okay kiddo. I got you. You’re okay. Just quiet down for me, okay? We gotta be quiet or else we’ll get caught. I can take you someplace safe, but only if you can settle down for me...”
The boy was suddenly silent, sinking into some kind of shock that made John even more nervous. The defiant boy from earlier that day was gone and now he just seemed... defeated. John tried to find the boy’s shoes, but it was useless. The kid looked ridiculous wrapped in John’s ugly polyester red coat, like a giant bathrobe. His bloody hands were hidden under the too long sleeves. John knew the boy was too old to be carried, but he didn’t want him wandering all over the place in his bare feet. John failed to protect the kid earlier. He’d be damned if he’d let the kid’s feet get cut up. The kid was officially under John’s protection now. Fuck the mission. John lifted the boy with one arm and held him to his chest. Samuel hugged at the manila folder like it was a teddy bear. Other then hitched breathing, the kid didn’t make a sound.
John had to move quick. The situation was bad. Definitely bad. He had to get his boys out of here and screw the mission. Maybe Bobby could take care of it later, but John definitely had to bail. He rushed to Dean’s dorm first and set the boy down in the hallway. John placed his finger against his lips and Samuel nodded in understanding. He wouldn’t move or speak.
John snuck into the senior boys dorm and touched Dean’s shoulder. He was proud that Dean woke immediately and completely. He’d trained his boys well. They knew this was a hunt. One nod of John’s head told Dean that they were leaving. Dean slipped into his clothes quickly and silently and followed his dad out. It was only Dean’s training and John’s stern look that kept him from asking about the little boy wrapped in John’s jacket leaving bloody hand prints on a folder, waiting in the hallway. John picked the kid up again and nodded to Dean.
The trio rushed to Sam’s dorm and the procedure was repeated, this time with Dean and the kid waiting in the hall. Sam was harder to wake, blinking up sleepily at his father. But he was just as quick to leave. Dean may have teased him about liking school, but no one was crazy enough to like this school.
John prayed that they wouldn’t run into the night guard as they rushed towards the Impala. His family had nothing but the clothes on their backs. Anything brought into the school, would be left behind. It was a Winchester lesson learned early. Never bring anything of sentimental value on a hunt. John hoped that they would just fade away like those missing kids. No one would look for them. It was a vain hope. Except for the boy, they didn’t fit the pattern, not to mention the dead body they were leaving behind. The cops would assume John was responsible for the headmaster’s murder. Well, better John then a little kid with Dean’s face.
The only hitch they had on the way to the car, was the giant gates that locked all the kids in at night. Dean picked the lock, but it took longer then it should have and John’s stomach twisted with every wasted second.
The car was exactly where he hid her, and for once his boys didn’t argue about who got the front seat. They both surrendered the spot to the silent child their dad brought along with them.
The Impala purred as she started up, and John quickly put as much distance between his family and that school as possible.
John noticed the child shivering in his jacket, and he silently raised the heat. He tried not to pay attention to the sticky blood stains the boy was smearing on his jacket. There was something especially gory about thick scarlet blood, staining orange-red polyester. John would look forward to burning that jacket in the future.
His sons showed surprising self restraint as they managed to keep quiet for almost an hour. Finally Sam broke first, “Dad? Who is he?”
John glanced in the rear view mirror at his boys. “Says his name is Samuel Johns. We needed to get out of there. I took him with us. You gonna argue with me about it, Sam?”
Sam shook his head. “No sir. Just wondering...”
The boy seemed to shake harder at the Winchester’s discussion. John had to admit that maybe his shivering wasn’t from the cold.
“Dean, can you get up here?”
Dean only looked surprised for a second before he climbed over the front seat and settled in between his dad and the new kid.
John said in a low voice, “Can you settle him?”
The boy was obviously spooked, with good reason. Unfortunately John needed both hands on the wheels and his focus on the road, just in case they were followed. And Dean was good with kids.
“Hey buddy... Um, what’s your name?” Dean spoke to the boy like he was much younger then he was. John half expected the kid to be insulted at the coddling.
“494.”
Dean and John exchanged a confused look. John asked, “No kiddo, what’s your name?”
The boy repeated, “494.”
John said, “I thought it was Samuel Johns.”
The boy clenched and unclenched his hands, staring at the blood that had slowly dried in clumps and flaked off. “That’s my cover. My designation is 494.”
He suddenly reached across Dean to grab at John’s arm, “You aren’t going to send me back, are you? I’m sorry I didn’t complete my mission. I was able to gather the information you wanted, but I couldn’t complete my training. I’m sorry, sir. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t send me back ”
Dean carefully put his hands on the boy’s shoulders and pulled him away from his dad. “We’ll go someplace safe. I promise.”
John nodded his approval at his son. Dean even phrased it like his dad had. The little boy settled down, mildly reassured.
As John continued to drive, Dean was able to clean the kid up. Most of the blood came off thanks to dozens of handiwipes they always stole from barbeque restaurants. The kid wouldn’t really be clean until he was shoved in a shower, but he looked less like an extra from a horror film.
Neither of his boys seemed to recognize the similarity between Dean and Samuel... or 494, or whatever the kid’s name was. The more John looked at him, the more he could see minor differences. Dean was always a cute kid, but this boy was downright pretty. It was like all of Dean’s mild flaws were erased in the kid. The boy was the movie star version of Dean as a ten year old. It was downright creepy. Part of John still wondered if the kid was a shape shifter or a doppleganger. Part of John wanted to get his sons away from him, a potential monster. But mostly John just saw a younger version of his son, and the boy was terrified. He couldn’t bring himself to scare the kid further and he certainly wasn’t leaving him alone.
The Winchester drove in silence as dawn finally broke. John continued to drive, wanting to get as far away as possible before the shit hit the fan at the Academy. He had a lot of questions about the boy, but they had to wait. It was only when he was too exhausted to drive anymore that John pulled up to a motel. He left his boys in the car as he ordered a room. It was better not to let people make a connection between the disappearance of four people from the Academy, and their sudden appearance at Sunny Lake motel.
John pulled around to the back of the motel before unloading the kids. Sam was being unusually obedient, but John figured that was because there was an obviously traumatized little kid in the mix for the moment. It only took a few minutes before he got all three boys, and their duffle bags into the room.
It was a standard room with two full sized beds. The carpet was dirt brown, the walls were a sandy color, and the covers on the beds were grass green. John felt like an ant. His boys flopped face first on the bed closest to the bathroom, but the little kid was unusually alert. He seemed to be memorizing the room, looking for exits, but maybe John was reading too much into it. After all, what sort of ten year old automatically tries to scope out a new environment? The boy was probably just as fascinated with the lawn color scheme as John was. Honestly, who designed the damn room? It was hideous.
“Dean, salt the doors and windows, “John ordered, sitting down on the other bed and pulling the skittish boy to stand between his knees. Dean groaned, knowing that the urgency had somewhat passed, but he quickly revived himself to do as he was told.
“Are you hurt?” John pulled the red coat tighter around the kid.
He shook his head.
“Did Mitchell force himself on you?”
The boy shuddered, but shook his head again.
“Can I trust you not to lie to me?”
The boy nodded.
John seriously did not want to be having this conversation. But it had to happen. “If anything happened, you got no reason to be embarrassed. It wasn’t your fault. But I gotta know because a hurt like that... it’s better to tell me about it now, then for it to get worse. Understand?”
The kid’s jaw clenched, and John couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what was going on in his head. Even when Dean got into his quiet moods, John could still usually read him. This kid had a hardcore poker face.
After a moment of silence, John gave up for tonight. “Okay. Why don’t you go take a shower, and I’ll see if I can find some clothes for you.”
The boy nodded once more, and for a moment John was worried the boy resembled Dean in more than just a physical way, and he’d end up refusing to speak for six months. “Hey kid, seriously, what’s your name?”
It took the child a second to answer. John could almost see the boy physically rearranging his mask to hide his fear.
Sam and Dean were doing an admirable job pretending to be asleep and not blatantly eavesdropping. The kid glanced over at them before answering, obviously not fooled by their thespian skills.
“Don’ have a name. I got a designation. I’m X5-494,” his tone was getting mulish, harder than it should be coming from a kid so young. “Little more unique then being your average Joe... or Sammy,” he said, glancing condescendingly over at the fifteen year old, who looked offended, despite being ostensibly ‘asleep.’
494 managed to smirk at John.
“That’s not a name. I’m impressed though. After a night like this, you still manage to be a smart aleck.” John raised an eyebrow, thinking of something. “So for now, we’ll just call you Alec... okay?”
The kid shrugged, “Suits me just fine.”
“That it does. Now get your ass into the shower so we can all catch some sleep. I promise I won’t interrogate you until tomorrow.”
John meant for it to be gentle teasing, but from the way all color drained from Alec’s face, the boy thought he was absolutely serious.
Dean gave up the act. “He’s just kidding. Don’t freak out.”
Alec muttered something about common vernacular before going to shower.
It took some searching, but John was able to find a t-shirt of Dean’s and some drawstring sweat pants of Sam’s that would... well not “fit” the kid, but not fall off of him either. John definitely needed to do a supply run because nothing was more conspicuous then a ten year old dressed in clothing that obviously didn’t belong to him.
Once the boys settled down in the bed nearest the bathroom, they fell asleep almost immediately, this time for real. Dean made sure his knife was under his pillow, but barely took his shoes off before crashing. Alec looked at the floor when he came back from his shower, but still crawled into bed with John. The kid seemed to think John expected it. John didn’t want to think about that one too hard. He lay almost flush with the wall, trying to give Alec as much room as possible on their bed. But Alec lay as close to the edge as possible, as straight as a board. John knew he wasn’t asleep even though the boy faked it better then his own boys did. If John didn’t desperately need the rest to function tomorrow, he would have slept on the floor, or the chairs, but there’s no way his back wouldn’t seize up if he attempted it.
Tomorrow he’d get his little family sorted out. He’d figure out what was going on with Alec and the Academy, and get his kids even further away from the scene of the Headmaster’s death. But today he’d just catch some sleep and be satisfied that all three boys were safe for now.
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four