Well, I blame Chya totally for this! After watching Malleus Maleficarum, she made the innocuous-seeming comment that Dean likes bunnies. And darn it, that kept me awake all night, wondering just why he would care so much about the furry little creatures' fate…

Self beta'd, and my first Supernatural fic, so please be gentle :-)

RUN, RABBIT, RUN

By JillyW

Clutching a brown paper sack to his chest, the skinny brown-haired kid slipped unobtrusively out of the run-down convenience store and hurried away along the sidewalk in the direction of the even shabbier motel that was his current home.

At this comparatively early hour of the morning the street was quiet, something he viewed with mixed feelings. On the one hand, it let him move faster than if he had to work his way through crowds. But on the other, it made him stand out like a sore thumb, and if there was one thing he'd learnt over the past few years, it was that remaining inconspicuous at all times was the only way to survive.

There was also the small matter of what was currently secreted in the copious inner pocket of his jacket, the thought of which had him casting a furtive glance back over his shoulder. The contents of the bag - corn chips and candy bars, the staple diet of necessity for the most part during the longer periods he was left in charge of the catering – had been paid for out of the dwindling remains of the twenty he'd found on the dresser after Dad had left this last time. But the supplemental supplies he'd snaffled up and hidden away as he'd left the store hadn't, and though he was pretty confident his sleight-of-hand skills were honed enough to have gone unnoticed, he knew he wouldn't really feel secure until he got back to the room.

The delicious aroma of frying bacon drifted around him as he passed the open door of the local diner, and his stomach rumbled in hopeful anticipation. He'd have given almost anything right then to be able to walk into that warm inviting atmosphere and sit down for a plate of eggs and hash browns, or a stack of pancakes and maple syrup.

But bitter experience of a few days of Sammy's pitiful hunger-filled whining had taught him that blowing their funds on stuff like burgers and fries that didn't last - no matter how much more appealing they were - was a bad plan. You could never tell how long Dad would be away, and it was his job to keep his little brother safe and content enough not to make too much fuss until he did.

A little further down the block something in a store front caught his attention, and he slowed his determined pace long enough to check it out. Some kind of pet store, he realised when he got close enough to see what was inside – cages filled with huddled fluffy bundles of assorted shapes and sizes lined the walls, but it was the occupants of the shop window that drew him in. The space was blocked in to the rear by a wooden partition and divided by a wire mesh fence into two small straw-strewn pens.

One was empty, but from the shadowed back corner of the other a pair of liquid black eyes stared suspiciously out at him from above a twitching white nose and a set of quivering whiskers. Long ears pressed flat along its tensely hunched back, a white rabbit crouched up against the back wall as if trying to disappear through it. And it was only when he looked closer that he saw the smaller white shape half hidden behind its protective bulk.

He'd never had a pet. He had vague memories of begging his mother for a puppy when he was little, like every kid, but she'd fobbed him off with the usual platitudes – you're too young, not ready yet, plenty of time to talk about it later. Of course, time had run out, at least for her, and since then the last thing they'd needed was another mouth to feed.

But he spent a few moments trying to imagine what it would be like to have something as small and helpless as that rabbit to care for, something that depended on him for absolutely everything in its life – food, warmth, shelter… affection, even.

A movement in the shop beyond broke into his reverie and he glanced round nervously, berating himself for his lapse of concentration. But no one seemed to be paying him any undue attention, and he looked back through the window in time to see a burly man reach into the pen and grasp the larger rabbit by its ears. It struggled frantically as it was lifted bodily into the air, but to no avail – the store owner carried it away towards the rear and out of sight, leaving the pen's other occupant alone, pressed tight into the corner and shaking in terror.

But something in the first rabbit's wild dark eyes as it was removed so unceremoniously struck a chord deep within him, one he knew would stay with him a long time. Fear, certainly, at its unknown fate. But more than that, there seemed to be an intense desperation that he could easily ascribe to being torn away from it's less able companion, as well as helplessness at being unable to prevent it happening – and those were feelings he could understand only too well.

Because he realised that he didn't need to have a pet to know how that kind of responsibility felt – he already had someone who relied on him totally. Someone he'd already left alone far too long.

He turned away purposefully, his pace quickening to a run as he resumed his course towards the motel. His only focus now was on getting back before Sammy woke up to an empty room, knowing his alarm would be every bit as debilitating as that holding the creature abandoned in the window behind him in its thrall.

But he couldn't help hoping today would be the day the familiar growl of the Impala's engine heralded the return of his father to take over for a while. Mom had been right. And he still wasn't really ready…

END