Never Too Late
Summary: 1-shot. A hunt in Wisconsin turns out to be nothing, but Dean learns that it's not just monsters that need to be hunted when something from their past comes and shows him why is brother is so afraid of clowns. He is reminded that it's never too late to be Sam's big brother. *Angry/protective/slightly guilty!Dean & a nervous/uneasy/limp!Sam* Set mid-Season 7.
Warnings:Some language. Also mention of implied past abuse. Nothing graphic.
Tags/Spoilers: Set after 07X Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie but not tagged to anything.
Beta'd By: Jenjoremy.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything & this is written for fan enjoyment.
Author Note: So I watched the Plucky episode yesterday and the muse came up with this little piece. Hope you guys enjoy it.
SPN SPN SPN SPN
"So I talked to the coroner and it sounds like this might just be a normal case. Couple stupid kids out in the woods, drinking or whatever, came across the wrong type of wildlife. Probably a bear by the size of those gashes…hey, you listening to me or am I boring you?"
"Huh? No, I heard you. Bear, no case, got it. Can we leave town now?"
The double cheeseburger in his hands no longer held his attention as Dean Winchester narrowed his eyes at the unusually on edge young man across from him at the diner. The young man who had done nothing more than push pieces of lettuce around his plate for the past several minutes. "What's up with you?" he asked, more worried than annoyed. "You've been acting weird since we got here…and by weird, I mean weirder than having Satan singing Zepplin in your head at odd hours of the day. Something else going on?"
"No, nothing. I'm fine. I just think that, you know, if there's nothing going on, we should blow this place and get back on the road," Sam Winchester replied with a fast shrug and the tone of voice that let his big brother know that while he was trying to appear calm out the outside, he was totally freaking out on the inside…and his brother didn't know why. Sam refused to look up even when Dean conspicuously cleared his throat and it was obvious that Sam was also trying to avoid looking at the TV that was playing in the diner as well as the paper on the table…the paper with a headline story that was suddenly making him wish he'd never agreed to look into the possible Wendigo. "You done? I'll go pay the tab and we can…Dean?"
Dean's senses as a hunter might not be screaming over a possible case of the weird or unnatural, but his big brother senses, the ones that he'd let slip since the whole mess with Dick Roman came up, were now blaring huge red alarms.
The past few months hadn't been easy on either of them. They'd pretty much lost a huge chunk of their lives when the junkyard was destroyed by the goddamn Leviathans. They took another hit when Bobby was killed, and of course Sam's head wasn't exactly in the greatest shape since Dean knew his brother was having hallucinations of Lucifer again.
However despite all of that, the warning signs he was seeing in his younger brother right now didn't seem related to any of that. This was something else…and whenever Dean caught these certain signs in Sam, he'd learned a long time ago, the hard way, to pay attention.
The possible Wendigo attack had brought the Winchesters to a small town in rural Wisconsin. It was only after they'd gotten here and began to check things out that a faint memory tingled. Dean remembered that they'd been dropped there as kids years earlier while their Dad took care of a hunt two towns over. He'd been 14 and Sam had been 10.
Nothing else about the town had really rung any bells for the older brother. It had just been another boring town except he had hung out with a few local kids after sitting Sam's unhappy butt in the local…oh shit.
Dean lifted green eyes up slowly to watch the reflection of the TV in the glass of the window by them with a sinking feeling in is stomach. He also started to pay attention to the little unconscious signals Sam was giving off; signals that should've tipped him off much earlier and had him dragging Sam the hell out of this town ASAP…because now he started to remember something else about that visit.
His little brother's absolute fear of clowns had been well known and well established even before the visit to this town; Dean honestly blamed that damn fast food place's mascot for initially traumatizing his 18-month old little brother for life after one trip to the place. He had usually ignored this fear, or even mocked it, since he firmly believed that's what big brothers were supposed to do. Dean hadn't also hesitated to dump Sam's ass at Plucky Pennywhistle's, a pizza chain for kids that featured clowns, when he needed to keep his little brother occupied for an afternoon.
Sam had never cared for the chain since that first time he'd been left there alone, but Dean had always put it off to his brother's basic fear of clowns. Even the other week when they had that case there, his brother had been tense…tenser than he should be for facing some stupid clowns, but Dean had shrugged it off and had even ignored the sudden nightmares his brother started to have. Now his gut was starting to think otherwise, and he mentally kicked himself.
Now Dean paid closer attention to the story that had been all over the local TV since they'd been in town and was currently on the front page of the paper; the paper that Dean noticed Sam had crumpled as he picked at his salad. Those same big brother instincts that were firing up earlier now began to buzz with a memory that had him tensing.
"Yeah, I'm done. Let's go." He shoved his half-eaten burger away and reached across as the table for the check only to brush up against Sam's clenched fist. He inwardly seethed as his brother jerked back from the touch. "You pay the bill and then I'll drop you off at the motel. You pack while I go pay one final visit to the cops to make it look right. Then we'll take off."
Normally Sam would have questioned that since they never went back to the cops, but today he just nodded, the relief plain in his still too expressive eyes as he slid his tall body out of the booth to go pay the check. He missed the dark flash in Dean's eyes as he stared at the front of the local paper and the face of a man that he hadn't thought about in years but had never forgotten because of the odd vibes the man had given him. "Sonuvabitch!"
Thirty minutes later, after dropping Sam off at the motel to pack their stuff, Dean was back in the suit and tie, leaving his street clothes in the plain car they were now using as he went back to the small and clearly overworked police station.
Normally local issues didn't fall into their range of work, but there were exceptions to every rule and Dean was making one this time. He caught sight of the friendly but gruff police chief he'd talked to a few times and didn't miss the man's outrage as he threw a file onto a desk.
"We had the bastard and the goddamn lawyer bailed him out?!" he yelled, sounding pissed as he slapped a hand on a box of evidence. "Mental illness? The goddamn lawyer got him out on bail on a mental defense plea? I don't give a goddamn hell how old he is; I want his ass back in a cell by week's end…and if he skips bail then that Doogie Howser lawyer will be getting my foot up his ass because there's enough photos and video of what that sick bastard did to those kids to have kept him locked up until he saw a judge!"
"They played the age and sympathy card, sir," the unhappy officer tried to say, not liking the decision any more than his boss. Suddenly, he caught sight of the fed that had been in town about the deaths. "Agent Booth, I thought you said you guys were heading out."
Dean eyed the ticked off chief along with the box of evidence and files before offering a tight smile. "Yeah, we were…but then the brass got wind of this clown thing and decided that since we were here, we should give it a look to see if the MO matched up to some of our cold cases." He slid a look to the head cop. "Was this a clown turned pervert or vice versa?"
Reggie Cox snorted but held out a folder to the guy who claimed to be a fed. Something about him just made his ex-special forces side kick in; the attitude was there, but there was something else about the guy that made him wonder…but he trusted the guy enough to hand over his latest headache.
"Saunders moved to town in the mid-80's. Story was he was widowed, no kids, but he enjoyed them so he worked as a circus clown and then a private entertainer. When he got here, he was hired by that stupid clown chain called Plucky's or whatever the hell it is." He motioned the guy back to his office to close the door, watching closely at the odd tension in his shoulders as he read the file and began to leaf through photos found when his cops tore the man's home and pizza place apart. "I guess he worked in quite a few of their stores, training clowns or whatever, before deciding to land in my town."
Mick Saunders looked older in the booking photo than he had the last time Dean had seen the asshole, but it had been well over 10 years since the day he'd pulled the butterfly knife he kept on him when it hit the teenager that the too friendly pizza chain manager was what had been making his little brother scared for several days…he had never quite gotten the full story out of Sam and had finally shrugged it off to his fear of clowns.
Now the slow burning rage that had been inside Dean was building as things were suddenly starting to make sense in a very bad way as he nearly dropped the file and blew his cover as he leafed through the many photos of girls and boys the perverted clown must have taken; one in particular suddenly caught his attention because he knew those great big scared hazel eyes as well as he knew his own name.
"There were always a few odd reports over the years, mostly from concerned single mothers, who said the manager of Plucky's seemed a bit too friendly with a few of the kids or from disgruntled ex-employees he fired, but we never had enough proof to dig too deep or to get a warrant until this time," Cox was saying, moving to sit at his desk and not missing the way those deep green eyes had gone to cold murderous slits as he looked at one photo in particular…one that had even made the cop look twice at that little brown haired boy who hadn't yet begun to grow into arms and legs that were sure to make him a tall one.
"What…what changed?" Dean managed to suppress the need to snarl or crush the other photos he now saw in his fist; he was also kicking his own ass mentally for not seeing it sooner.
"Mayor's wife brought their 10 year old son in and while the story of a basement full of sex toys in a kid's pizza chain was a little hard to believe, it was the Mayor so a judge issued a warrant…and I walked in on something straight out of some sick porn flick from the 70's. I personally hauled the bastard out of there in cuffs, but his lawyer's slick and he drew one of those sympathetic judges who approved bail and crap." Cox smoothed a hand over his mustache at the low growl he could hear. "Something wrong, Agent?"
Oh, there was plenty wrong but nothing Dean could deal with until he was out of the station. "Nope, I'm fine." He coughed and looked up. "Think he'll skip town?"
"Once we had him, I ran his prints and about a half a dozen flags from across the country flew up where he was wanted in questioning to other child abuse cases, so I don't see what the judge thought he was doing by issuing a low bond," Cox replied and then nodded. "He'll skip as soon as he can because he knows the DA will burn his ass on the video footage alone we found in the office at the store and then his house. Think this might fit an old case?"
"Maybe, I'll pass it along with the name and my superior will probably be in touch," Dean said even though he wasn't too worried about the threat of the man skipping town...he wouldn't be alive that long. "Thanks for letting me look." He gave a final glance to pick up the address before handing the file back. "His kind usually gets what's coming to him eventually. It's never too late to deal with that kind of monster."
Cox couldn't agree more, standing to shake the extended hand. "You and your partner deal with a lot of his kind of monster, Agent Booth?" he asked, seeing the way those green eyes narrowed cautiously at the slight change in tone he put on the title.
"Not his kind specifically but…we've faced our share of monsters over the years." Dean made his face blank even as he began to worry that this cop might be catching on to how fake their badges really were. "You'll be hearing from the agency soon, Chief. Thanks for your cooperation."
By the time Dean got back to where he parked the stupid generic car, his hands were shaking and he wanted blood. "Goddamn, son of bitch!" He slammed the heel of his palm against the steering wheel.
The need to protect his baby brother, to rip the lungs out of anyone who hurt Sam in anyway growing up, was now surging to the surface like it hadn't in several years. This time he knew if he could, it would be more than figurative damage done. He would very slowly make this bastard pay.
As he slid behind the wheel, Dean let his head fall back against the headrest, letting the memories wash over him. The first time that he'd picked his little brother up all those years ago, Sam had seemed off. The kid was on edge, much jumpier than usual, but Dean's teenage brain hadn't put the pieces together like he would've a few years later. Now as he started the car and drove across town to the address he'd memorized, the hunter knew the signs had been there if only he would've just looked.
Sam was always a shy, quiet kid, and he had a temper and the Winchester attitude even at the age of ten, but that week he'd been more withdrawn, quicker to snap, and it seemed like he flinched every time Dean touched him unexpectedly. Other times, the kid was like an octopus, clinging to his older brother and begging him to not take him to Plucky's again. Dean's brain, however, was too focused on his own teenaged pleasures to pay attention to the tears or how pale his brother was getting until one of the teens he'd been hanging out with happened to bring up the creepy clown over at Plucky's and how he bet the guy was really a serial killer.
That had made Dean pay attention and he'd skipped basketball with his new pals to get back to Plucky's. He'd arrived just in time to find Sam curled up on a chair with his knees to his chin and the manager in his clown suit bent over the boy with his hand touching Sam's arm.
A surge of rage had blinded the 14 year old because even though he originally blamed Sam's dislike of the man on his outfit, the rule was still the same: touch his baby brother, make him shake, and no matter how much bigger than guy might have been, Dean would still make someone bleed.
The way Sam had bolted into his arms when he snapped a warning at the clown to get his paws off his brother should've told Dean that something else was wrong, but it hadn't. He'd just wanted to get Sam out of the building, go back to the motel, and call their Dad to see how much longer he'd be. All of a sudden, this town didn't seem like such a good place to hang around.
Of course Dean had made certain the smirking clown clearly understood that Sam wouldn't be back to Plucky's and also that he'd better never see him around his brother again. His developing hunter's senses were picking up some odd vibes, and he didn't like it. He also didn't like the bruise on Sam's arm, but his brother would only hide his face and say he fell.
Now, as he pulled close to Saunders' home in a run-down section of town, Dean left his suit jacket in the car and made certain the weapons he chose to take with him were concealed before moving towards the property with all the stealth and skill his Dad had taught him. He noticed the beat up van with boxes inside and knew the cop had been right on the money. The guy was getting ready to disappear.
Dean accepted the risks of what he was doing. He knew he was putting his neck on the line given the whole mess with the goddamn Leviathans and Dick Roman, but he'd gladly and willingly take those risks for Sam's sake. It had been almost 20 years but to the big brother inside, it would never been too late to remove something that had hurt his brother.
He picked the lock on the back door and slipped into the kitchen, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness while hearing noise from the basement and smelling something that he knew was a wood stove.
Pulling his .45, the hunter took the steps without a sound; as he reached the bottom, he could see the signs of a hasty packing job as if the owner was in a hurry. Dean figured the guy was planning to make a run for it that night and despite knowing the man was in his 60s, he still held his weapon at the ready when he moved slowly to peer into a small utility room and felt his stomach clench.
The hunter guessed this room must have been sealed or hidden so the cops hadn't found it because he knew if the contents had been seen, the pervert wouldn't have ever made it to jail much less get bailed out. The blown up pictures of little kids in various poses once again reminded Dean of why he actually understood the supernatural and thought humans were often the real monsters in the world.
"So, running before they toss your ass into a cell with a few guys who might not share your taste in activities, Saunders?" he asked casually, lifting the gun as the older man turned.
Mick Saunders knew he'd pushed his luck by staying too long in this place, but the set-up was sweet. He had perfect access to sweet little boys and girls because Plucky's was a well-known and trusted place. No one would ever suspect him of any wrong-doing, and he always made sure to tell the kids the lies he needed to keep his secret safe.
Everything had been fine until he got sloppy, and now he had to make a run for it. He had been lucky to make bail, but he knew his freedom wouldn't last. The damn cops and the DA had all the tapes and a lot of his pictures from all his years working at various Plucky's locations, so he needed to run while he could. He hoped that looking like an innocent older man would continue to work to his advantage.
He was packing up the things he couldn't leave behind and burning the rest when the deep gruff voice spoke from the door to his hidden basement room. Expecting that goddamn nosy cop, he whirled around with a pipe in his hand only to stop when the .45 was lifted and aimed at his chest.
The guy in his basement was about 6" with short dark blond hair. While he was wearing what appeared to be the shirt and pants of a suit, the hard cold green eyes as well as the gun told the clown that this wasn't a cop; he just didn't have that feel about him.
"Who the fuck are you?" he growled, frowning when the guy merely smirked as if not afraid of him. "You cops ain't got nothing you can prove! I'll call my lawyer and Argh!"
He never saw the gun shift, but it sounded like a bomb going off to Saunders and he suddenly went down as agony flared in his knee…he realized that this asshole had just shot him. "You…you shot me! You can't…wait!"
Dean cocked his head, stepping into the room to kick the pipe out of reach while stepping down hard on the man's fingers and pointing the weapon at his shocked face. "The first and most important thing you better get through that thick perverted head is that I'm not a cop. That should also give you a pretty good clue that I can do whatever the hell I want to your ass because I can vanish as soon as I make you bleed."
"No! I'm…I ain't done anything!" Saunders gasped, screaming as he felt his fingers break. The guy knelt down to grab him by the throat to pull him closer. "Who are you? Why're you doing this?"
"Why?" Dean smirked, never surprised by the stupidity of morons. "I'm saving the taxpayers the money it would cost to put you on trial for the creepy perverted crap you did to those kids, jackass," he growled, memory coming back of the photo he'd stuffed in his pocket back at the jail. "I'm making sure that lawyer can't get you off on a technicality or some other piece of crap law that lets bastards like you hurt kids and then slink off free. I'm making sure you don't ever touch another little kid."
Groaning, Saunders tried to fight back, but despite his muscles, this guy moved quickly and dodged the blow, hitting him hard in the face with his fist. "I…ain't…" he screamed when his wrist was jerked back and bones broke. "Who are you?!"
"I'm just someone's big brother…if I'd been smart I would've slit your goddamn throat when you got past my radar and put your goddamn filthy hands on my baby brother!" Dean snarled, keeping one hand wrapped in the man's shirt and tossing the gun away to pull the photo out of his then 10-year old little brother. "Remember him, asshole?" he demanded harshly, seeing a blank look before a slow recognition built. "I bet you're the type of pervert that remembers every kid you've ever messed with so I bet you remember him."
He actually did have a pretty good memory for kids because each of them reacted differently to the games. The one in the old photo, the kid with the floppy dark hair and big hazel eyes, he remembered because while he got him to cry a few times, he could never get the kid to beg or show the level of fear like he could with others. He liked the games he played with him because it was more the clown suit that got him than the other 'games' they played in the basement of the pizza chain. He hadn't liked the boy's…
"Yeah, you remember me now, don't you?" Dean smiled coldly when he saw the puzzle pieces click into place and he pulled the old butterfly knife out to see the fear start to build. "You probably figured I was related to one of the kids you touched over the years, but now you know which kid. Now you remember me warning you what I'd do if you ever came near my brother again. If I would've been paying just a little more attention, if I would've been just another year older and realized what the hell you'd done to him…I would've stopped you then but I didn't so that's on me.
"The nightmares he had back then, all the kids you hurt since is on me, but there won't be another kid that will ever be made to hurt or doubt because of you." He flicked the blade open with a skillful hand, ignoring the now begging man…all he could see was the photos on the walls, the crap that littered the room that gave no doubt to what the man had done here. "I can't make you hurt like you made my brother and those other kids hurt, I sure as hell can show you fear.
"I can show you what it's like to fear before I make you bleed because no matter how many years have passed, I'm still his big brother. I swore when he was six months old to protect him so before you die…let me show you what someone trained in hell can do." Dean hated his time in hell, he hated even thinking about that time but there were moments, such as this one, that he did tip a silent hat to Alastair for what he'd taught him.
It took less time than Dean would've liked to teach his lesson. While he would've preferred to make the man bleed more slowly, to let him truly know the taste of the fear, he knew he really didn't have that sort of time. Either that cop would decide to make a move to arrest Saunders again or his brother would realize it was taking Dean a lot longer than it should to get back to the motel.
He stood up slowly to stare at the wide sightless eyes of the child molester before walking over to the wall and jerking down a photo much like the one he'd taken from file earlier in the evening. He crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the fire along with the other things the man had been destroying.
"No one touches my brother and gets away with it," he growled lowly, stepping over the body to make sure he had wiped clean anything he might've touched and then slipped out the way he came in.
By the time he got back to the motel Dean wasn't surprised to find an anxiously pacing Sam waiting for him in their motel room. "Hey."
"Dean, where in the hell have you been?" Sam demanded, sharp eyes looking his brother over for signs that he was either hurt…or not himself.
"Just had something to wrap up before we hit the road," Dean replied easily as he came in with a bag of take-out. "Figured I'd grab some food for later and the line was practically around the block. Then this damn piece of crap phone Frank gave me conked out so I couldn't call. Sorry if I worried you, Sammy."
Convinced this was his brother and not a Leviathan Sam shot him a tired bitch face before taking the bag. "It's just that…too much stuff has been happening so not knowing why you were gone for so long and…" He shook his head and slowly offered a small grin. "I was beginning to think you'd mouthed off to the cops and got arrested."
"Nope, just making sure the town was secure from more bears and grabbing food." Dean knew it was only because his brother was exhausted that he wasn't calling him on the crap story he was feeding him. He waited until Sam was turning to put his hand on the back of his neck like he almost always had and then waited for Sam to decide if he'd allow the touch or not.
Only when Sam relaxed again did Dean make his next move…and he knew this would be the rough one because while Sam had always been the more emotional one between them, when he was this on edge, he would often push people away. It wouldn't help that this touch would be out of the blue since Dean had been too moody and obsessed with killing Dick Roman to even be open with his brother.
"Dean?" Sam forced himself to relax at the touch of calloused fingers on the back of his neck because he knew it was his brother, and that was one of the things that had always been constant between them; a touch to his neck was how his no chick flick moments brother expressed feelings. He just didn't know why he'd be doing it now.
"C'mere, Sammy." Dean was careful when he gave a tug that brought his 6'4" baby brother closer so he could pull him in for a rare hug. He felt the ripple of tension go through Sam the second he hugged him since hugs were rare in their family, but after a couple of strained moments Sam's body slowly relaxed and his arms moved to tentatively hold…hugging back. "I'm sorry, Sam."
The hug shocked him but the apology confused him since Sam wasn't sure what his brother could be apologizing for. "For what?"
"Just…all the stupid crap I did while we were growing up that ended up hurting you. For being selfish and not watching you close enough at times." Dean shrugged, holding the hug a second or two longer than he normally would have before easing Sam back to see how tired he really looked and knew he had to get the kid to sleep for more than 20 minutes at a time. "So…just stuff."
"Do I need to dump borax on you?" Sam asked with a dry smile, relaxing when his brother smirked at him and lightly slapped him upside the head.
"Go toss the duffels in the car, smart ass," Dean snorted, rubbing his hand over his face as he watched Sam grab their stuff. He just wanted to get his brother the hell out of this town.
He was reaching for the bag of food he'd bought when his head jerked up at the sound of Sam's 'fed' tone suddenly being used. Dean was cursing under his breath and had just gotten to the door to see Sam carefully slamming the trunk shut and talking to Chief Cox.
Dean pushed down the nerves that just shot to the surface when he didn't see the whole damn police force in the motel lot but he wasn't ready to relax yet as he made sure his denim jacket covered the .45 at his back before he stepped out.
"Hey," Sam looked up when he heard his brother approach, meeting his eyes and masking the clearly confused worry was there. "The chief said he was passing by and wanted to be sure we were really going. I told him you were hung up buying take-out or we would've been gone already."
"It's not my fault my partner has this special bran diet he likes to stay on," Dean deadpanned, shooting a snarky smile at Sam while meeting the calm gaze of the cop directly. "Go do a once over of the room to make sure we didn't forget anything this time cause once we're 100 miles out, I do not want to hear that you left something behind that you cannot do without."
Sam nodded but it was plain that he didn't like leaving Dean alone while the cop was there. "We good?" he asked quietly as he passed, but then blinked at the casual touch of fingers on his arm that was hidden from view by his brother's body.
"Yeah, just let me handle it," Dean held those worried eyes for a long moment to let something pass between them before nudging Sam into the room and only then turning to face the cop. "You must really want us out of your town to make a personal appearance."
"I was on my way back when I decided I'd stop and see if you boys were still in town to tell you that it seems like we won't need the feds involved in that child molester case after all," Cox had to admit this one had one hell of a poker face. He expected to see something reflected in the rugged face or green eyes, but the only thing he saw was a flash of something that might have been worry when he shot a glance to see if his 'partner' was coming out of the room yet.
"Oh?" Dean had hoped the damn cops wouldn't discover the scene yet since he'd made damn sure they'd never find a body or the man's van. "Asshole skip town already?"
"That or he ran afoul of someone looking for revenge for one of the kids he messed with," Cox came around the older model car and could see that while the guy's face was calm, his whole body was wired. He also recognized the body language of someone who knew how to fight. "One of my cops did a drive-by, saw smoke, called it in and when he got inside, found a room we missed on our first inspection. There was more crap in it, a lot of blood, but no Saunders…his van's gone too so I'm leaning toward someone didn't approve of him getting bailed out and took care of my problem."
Dean put himself between the cop and the motel door while praying Sam couldn't hear any of their conversation and wouldn't come back out before they finished. He also prayed this guy knew enough to drop it because he didn't want to kill a cop on top of everything else.
"I'm sure he's got more than a few of those people out there, so that might be it." He shrugged with more calmness than he really felt right then. "You think too many people will cry if justice found its way to him without costing your citizens money?"
"Nope," Cox returned, sliding his eyes to the motel and then back before offering his hand. "I just thought you'd like to know that Saunders isn't an issue any more, Agent." He shook the hand that met his and then started to walk away but counted to ten before stopping. "Y'know, his eyes still look the same."
Dean had almost been certain he'd pulled everything off until the cop had to throw in that last zinger, and he knew the man was on to his game. Unsure of what to say he stayed silent while Cox turned back.
"I thought I recognized the eyes of the kid in that photo, the photo that you stole from the file, but it wasn't until I came here this time that it clicked." He walked back slowly but kept his hands in sight to prove he wasn't a threat since he had no trouble now recognizing the young man's stance; he was going into protective mode. "I pretty much knew from day one that you boys weren't feds…just like I know that Saunders didn't skip town. He your brother?"
"Yeah, he is," Dean replied, not bothering to deny the rest of it. "He was 10. I was 14 and stupid. He got hurt and now the bastard isn't a threat any other little kids. You can run me in, but without a body you've got nothing on me that will stick…either way…he's clear."
Cox considered that. It wasn't quite an admission and without a body or prints, and he knew there wouldn't be any, he couldn't pin anything on this guy. They were still staring at one another when he looked up to see big worried eyes on the pale-faced young man standing in the motel door.
"You boys have a safe trip to wherever you're headed." He gave a wave to Sam while looking back to Dean and simply nodded before walking away.
Sam waited until he saw the police cruiser drive off before he bolted out of the doorway. "What the hell was that about?" he demanded. He hadn't caught the whole conversation, but he'd heard enough to know the cop had figured out they were fakes and that his brother had done something illegal. "Dean? Tell me the real reason you were gone for so long today cause I'm thinking it was for more than buying food."
"Just get in the car, Sam." Dean knew just how close he'd come to getting them both arrested again and now just wanted to get the hell out of town before Cox changed his mind.
Sam looked like he might argue but something in the way his brother's jaw was set made him do as he was told. He kept quiet despite the urge to push for information, but a piece of him was afraid he might know what his brother had done.
They were 30 minutes out of town, riding along back road that would take them to the interstate, before he couldn't take it any longer. "Did you kill him?"
Sam hadn't been sure if his brother recognized the man on the TV and in the paper as the asshole in the clown suit at the one Plucky's or not. He had instantly…and he'd been one step from begging Dean to leave the damn town. He'd kept the damn secret all these years, however, and since Dean had always shrugged that time off as Sam's fear of clowns, he managed to hide how just being back in this town was making him sick.
Now he realized that Dean had indeed recognized the asshole and as he thought about the time that Dean had been gone, his offer of unspoken support, and the rare hug, Sam swallowed tightly, fingers clenching into his knee as he waited to see if his brother would answer or shrug the question off.
"Yes," Dean replied after a long heavy silence, not taking his eyes off the road because he knew if he did all he'd see was wet puppy dog eyes and he was still too raw for those. "No matter how many years passed in between, it would never be too late for me to hurt some son of a bitch that hurt you."
Normally Sam might have tried to push the topic, the thoughts, under the rug but this time, given everything that had come between them lately, he didn't. All he did was move across the bench seat until he was close enough to lay a hand on his brother's shoulder to squeeze it tightly for a second.
"Thanks, Dean," he murmured actually feeling at ease about what Dean had done. He then balled up his jacket to use as a pillow, but when he turned his shoulder more into the door like he'd always down in the Impala, he just couldn't seem to get comfortable so he resorted to plan B: sleeping on his brother's shoulder.
He was so battered and tired, emotionally and physically, that Sam was already half asleep by the time he heard his brother's deep husky voice muttering something about drooling on him and getting their car back soon. He missed the other half of the whispered statement.
"Just go to sleep, little brother. It's all good now, and I'll keep it that way."
The End