Author's Note:
Set during season five but no relation to any story arcs, plots or episodes. This is not about nor does it mention the apocalypse, angels, demons or in fact demon blood. Also, this may be a little more serious than my usual fare. Be warned. Rated T for language and limited gore.
This is for Kiu-Tai, Ho-Tsun, Cheuk-Wai, Pok-Man and Wai-To - my favourite little four-year-old balls of sunshine, who know ten words of English between them.
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一
(One)
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The Blackberry rang and rang. Sam bounded out of the shower, barely managing to keep his towel round his sopping wet waist as he snatched it up.
"Yeah," he panted.
"Mr Winchester?" a voice asked. "Sam Winchester?"
"No. Sorry, man, I think you've got-"
"Bobby Singer gave me this number. He said you'd help me."
Sam let his shoulders relax, looking round to his motel bed before slumping down to sit on it, still clutching his towel at a judicious height. "Ahm, yeah, ok. What can I do for you?"
"My name's Jerry, Jerry Leung. I'm a hunter and I've worked with Bobby once or twice. I have something small that I'd like you to take care of - it'll only take a few hours, and I'll do anything you want in return - absolutely anything."
Sam pulled the phone away from his head to glance at it. Then he cleared his throat and brought it to bear again. "You sound desperate."
"I am. Look, can I meet you?"
"Yeah. Where are you now?"
"Well Bobby said to head southwest of Jefferson City and I'd get close," the mysterious voice, apparently belonging to 'Jerry', said.
"He's right. We're off the I-54, at a motel called the Dew Drop Inn," he said, cringing at the name.
"Ok. Thanks, man. Thank you so much. I'll be there in… about an hour - I'm in a dark blue '68 Thunderbird. I'm wearing a light tan jacket."
"We'll look out for you."
"We? Oh! Yeah, I guess your brother too… Sorry. I'm just all kind of-. Look, sorry. Thanks. See you ASAP."
The line was cut and Sam looked at his phone in consternation. He was just thinking about finishing the shower when the motel door opened. His elder brother swept in, pushing the door shut with his foot, a Baby Ruth hanging out of his mouth and his arms full of brown paper bags and a six-pack.
"Woah uwi oo?" he managed past the chocolate-coated bar of what passed as nutrition for him in his mouth, aiming the load from his arms at the wooden table by the door.
Sam just raised confused hands at him and Dean pulled the candy bar from his lips.
"What's up with you?" he repeated. "You got that 'it can't be a virus, I just checked the whole hard drive' look on your face."
"I just got a call. A friend of Bobby's needs help - he's on his way. Be about an hour."
"Aw, man! I was gonna watch a game, get some sleep, eat something that wasn't nuked by a gas station excuse for a microwave," Dean moaned.
"It sounded important. This guy - his name's Jerry - said it would only take a few hours."
"Swell," Dean grumped, pulling off his jacket and chucking it unceremoniously at the bed. "Well I'm eating the entire contents of that bag and getting a beer in me before he turns up. I don't care if he's Bobby, we killed three demons and a vamp this week and I want to waste a few hours flat on my back for a change."
"For a change?" Sam prompted. "I thought that was how you managed to spend an hour saying goodbye to that waitress this morning."
Dean pulled up his shirt sleeve to show off an angry red graze over his elbow. "If I'd been on my back I wouldn't have got this as a souvenir," he pointed out.
"TMI," Sam sighed, getting to his feet again. "I'm going to finish my shower. Eat and do whatever."
"Try and stop me," Dean groused.
Sam disappeared into the bathroom. Dean moved the six pack of bottles and one of the paper bags to the table in between the two beds. Then he threw himself at his adopted one, getting comfortable before snatching up the TV remote.
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There was a knock on the door and Dean got up, feeling the butt of his gun in the back of his jeans as he looked through the spyhole. All he saw was a dark head and the suggestion of a light coloured jacket.
Sam was already at the window, looking out. He nodded at his brother and Dean opened the door a crack.
"Can we help you?" he asked cautiously.
The man - maybe a little older than Dean, but certainly much narrower - squinted for a moment. "You would be… Dean?" he asked hesitantly.
"Who's asking?"
"Jerry Leung - I spoke to Sam about an hour ago. Bobby said you could help me. Us," he added.
Dean looked him up and down. "And just how do we know Bobby gave you our numbers like that? He ain't exactly AT&T customer servi-" He stopped short as the man brandished a piece of paper at him. He reached out through the gap and took it, finding Bobby's unmistakable scrawl marked upon it. "If he asks you how you got his number, tell him I'm sick of being AT&T customer services," he read, deliberately carefully.
"He knows you too well," Sam observed from the window.
Dean looked up at the man in the darkness. "Ok, come on in," he sighed, opening the door wider.
He stepped back to watch him walk past him into the room. It was then, in the brightness of the room, that he realised he had something under his jacket, safely hidden from prying eyes.
Dean appraised him properly. His shock of jet black hair was fluffy, if well cared for in its own way, his eyes deep brown orbs of seriousness beyond his years. Probably a hunter, then, he realised. "So what's this job?" he asked clearly, closing the door.
Jerry turned and smiled nervously. "Uh, I just need someone I can trust to take care of a little something."
"So you said," Sam nodded, coming over and studying the man. Finding him less than six feet tall and definitely of Chinese persuasion, he folded his arms and waited. "Just what exactly do you want us to do?"
Jerry opened his jacket, revealing the load he was supporting with both arms. "Him," he said, hefting the small boy a little higher against his front.
The Winchesters exchanged a glance.
"We don't put down rabid Hellspawn," Dean said with serious firmness. Sam knocked his elbow. "What? We don't," he grumped innocently.
"No no - he's not the-. I just need someone to look after him while I go take care of a poltergeist problem." Jerry put his hand up to the sleeping boy's head, ruffling his hair affectionately. "He's my nephew. He turned five last week. My sis and her husband have this thing they want me to fix. I just want him out of harm's way for the night, and Bobby said you two could keep an eye on him while I'm doing it."
"We ain't babysitters neither," Dean tutted. "Isn't there someone else-"
Sam pushed at his shoulder and Dean turned to glare at him. "He wouldn't have asked Bobby if he knew someone else," Sam said clearly. Then he turned to look at Jerry. "Is there another reason you want other hunters to keep an eye on him?" he asked, his eyes already running over the little lad's face.
"Uhm… yeah," Jerry said quietly. He looked down at the boy, stroking a hand down his back and patting gently. "He's a little… um… how do I explain this…"
"In words of one syllable," Dean suggested, his face a picture of weariness.
"Ok then. He's a little psychic," Jerry said in a rush.
"That's two syll-" Dean began.
"It's fine," Sam said loudly, drowning his brother out. "How strong and what does he do?"
"Oh, he just kind of draws pictures of things he feels others are feeling," he said. "He's real chatty and he loves to watch television. In fact, if you leave it on he'll watch it without even realising I'm not in the room," he offered hopefully.
"Huh," Dean observed with an expression of reluctance pinned to his face.
"It's just for a few hours, right?" Sam asked earnestly.
"Yeah yeah - I'm just doing a clearance and then I'll be right back. I brought food for him and his favourite colouring and sketching books so he won't need anything else." He waited with a face made of pure optimism.
Sam let his head tilt. "Sure, we'll take him. What's his name?"
"Ah - right. There's something else I have to explain," Jerry said slowly, with obvious discomfort, just as the little boy began to shift and open his eyes.
"What's that?" Dean asked, apparently unable to be any more unimpressed with the way the evening was turning out. The five year old on Jerry's arm blinked a few times in the light, rubbing at his eye and getting his bearings.
"His name's Wai Jai - just call him Wai Jai," Jerry nodded.
"Why Jy?" Sam prompted, lost.
"Yeah." Jerry looked down at the boy, as he turned and found two strange men watching him. "Only - he doesn't speak English. He's kind of finding it hard to learn it from his father, and his mother doesn't speak it either."
"Perfect," Dean sighed, his eyes glued to the ceiling for a long second. "Anything else? Does he go bad if he eats after midnight or gets wet? Is he afraid of bright light?"
Sam elbowed him harshly. "Dean," he tutted. The younger Winchester looked at the small boy, who was now studying him with an almost identical look of curiosity on his little face. "Hey," he said with a warm smile.
The boy shrank back into Jerry's protective jacket. He turned his head and looked up at him, opening his mouth to rattle something off in long, complicated sentences in a language the Winchesters could not understand. Jerry spoke back soothingly, indicating the Winchesters and smiling as he replied in the same language.
The boy hesitated, turning to look at the two men. He looked at Sam as if he were trying to figure out what flavour ice-cream he could be, came up with chocolate, and let his face smile. Then he turned his wee head and looked at Dean. He blinked, tilted his head, and blinked again. His face clearly indicated there was no flavour on Earth to which Dean could be likened, and he looked back at his uncle, questions tumbling from his little mouth.
Jerry nodded and spoke back to him at length. The boy finally nodded and put his hand to his uncle's face, patting as he giggled, and Jerry pulled at his nose before swinging him down to the floor. He said something final and patted the boy's jacket, sending him on a cheerful stampede to the nearest bed. As the three adults watched, he mountaineered up the side and positioned himself in the centre of Dean's bed, looking around himself and taking stock of the assorted snacks and TV remote within reach.
"Great," Dean grunted.
"Looks like he'll be fine," Sam judged. He looked back at Jerry. "You need any help with this clearance?"
"Oh no, I've got it all under control," Jerry nodded. "Look man, thanks for doing this. I just really want him safe, you know?"
"Yeah," Dean glowered resentfully, eyeing the small bundle of smile currently occupying his bed as the boy picked up a chocolate bar, sniffing the wrapper suspiciously.
"If he's any trouble at all, just shout 'Leung Chiu-Wai' as loud as you can. He'll drop everything," Jerry grinned, pulling out his car keys.
"Learn-chew-why," Sam repeated carefully. "What's that?"
"His full name," Jerry chuckled.
Sam gestured to the door and the two of them disappeared out into the parking lot, talking and discussing as they prepared to bring the supplies little Leung Chiu-Wai might need from the car.
This left Dean to watch the five year old with suspicion.
Chiu-Wai was already deciding which buttons to press on the remote and quite happily getting comfortable, having put the candy bars and snacks to one side. Dean crossed to Sam's bed, sitting on the edge and eyeing him, his lip slightly curled in distaste. He watched as Chiu-Wai attempted to push a button. The little lad lifted the remote and aimed it at the TV but nothing happened.
"You got it backward," Dean said irritably, putting his hand out for it. "Give it here, I'll do it."
Chiu-Wai's head snapped round and he looked at him with apprehension.
"I'm not gonna hurt you - unless you keep hold of that remote," Dean said, trying to keep his voice on the less angry side of friendly. He waved his fingers at the remote. "Give."
"冇意思 - 我唔知你講乜," Chiu-Wai said, managing to look rather apologetic.
Dean blinked at him - just blinked. He got up and walked to the side of the bed, taking the remote from the boy's hand. "I have no idea what you just said," he admitted, sitting on the edge. "But look, see this red light thing? It has to be pointed at the-"
He paused as Chiu-Wai shuffled across the bed, picking up a candy bar and offering it to Dean. He smiled brightly. "呢個係唔係你嘅?" he asked.
Dean's mouth worked for a second without sound. "Uhm… Okie dokie," he managed, in a tone that advertised how confused and yet unwilling to care he was. He took the proffered foodstuff and watched the lad shift up a little more.
Chiu-Wai turned and shoved a pillow to sit up against the headboard before he shuffled up to lean back on it. He folded his little legs up in front of him and got comfortable, letting out a slight sigh of happiness. He turned his attention back to Dean. "我哋睇咩呀? 有冇卡通?" he asked, waving a finger at the remote.
Dean looked down at him before thinking for a long moment. "Tell you what," he said stiffly, "we'll try Cartoon Network." He flicked through the channels as he heard the two voices coming back into the motel room.
Sam and Jerry looked up to see Chiu-Wai and Dean a safe distance from each other on the bed.
Sam smiled slightly, looking at Jerry as they put down two small rucksacks. "Told you he'd be fine," he allowed.
"Yeah. I cannot thank you two enough for looking after him. Really," he said, sounding very relieved.
"Not to sound in a rush here, but you got a clearance to start on or what?" Dean asked, only just managing to keep his tone civil.
Jerry nodded. "Yeah yeah - I'll get going. I don't want to put you two out any more than necessary. I'll call when I'm on the way back. Should be in a few hours, if it all goes to plan." He looked at the boy. "Wai Jai - 乖咧, 哈? 我好快返嚟, 好唔好?"
"好!" Chiu-Wai grinned, before waving his hand at his uncle cheerfully.
"乖仔," Jerry winked at him. "I'll be as quick as I can," he added to Sam.
"Good luck," Sam replied, patting him on the arm.
"Hey, it'll be a piece of cake," he smiled, turning and leaving the room.
Chiu-Wai and Dean's heads followed the door closing in perfect synchronisation.
"我幾擔心," Chiu-Wai wibbled, sounding for all the world like R2D2 with shivers of fear.
Dean sighed, assessing the tone the boy had just used. "You said it, mini dude," he sighed, shaking his head at the already ominous feel to the evening.
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And, in a Mars Attacks! kinda way, there are no subtitles. That would ruin the fun, LOL. If anyone feels like checking Google for the vocab, you might want to try adjusting it for Cantonese dialect. Half of the words do not exist in Mandarin, nor can they be written down with any accuracy in Cantonese.
And yes, Wai Jai is named after the movie star. :)