With My Fists 2
This is the sequel to "With My Fists". I recommend that you read that before this one. It will make so much more sense. This is PRE-PILOT. Dean is fifteen almost sixteen.
I am doing this sequel via request of my reviewers, so if you want more you need to read this then press that little button and ask for it.
ON WITH THE SHOW!
With My Fists 2
Feet slopped onto the table, a bowl of chips in one hand and a remote in the other, Dean Winchester could hardly argue his family wasn't taking care of him.
His headache was easing to a very distant throb, though occasionally it came back at full force just in spite of him.
His nose was perfect again, of course, Dean Winchester's face was never anything less, but the steady blood flow from it had been a little on the not so perfect side.
Dean still maintained the red had done wonders for his eyes, and that was why he had allowed his nose to be broken.
Two fingers were taped together to heal the broken finger he had somehow managed to collect on his journey.
The gash on his arm was already a fading scar and his bitten tongue was gone within a few hours.
Yes, life was good, for now.
Of course, when John Winchester came home he would demand they talk about Dean's escapade a few days ago.
It wasn't Dean's fault those guys had asked him to beat them up, and as far as he was concerned, which, when there's nothing else to think about could be a lot, the whole point of the "Fight Club" was to draw blood. Red even said it on countless times.
Red McFinnigan being the person who had put Dean on bed-rest for a week. Dean was willing to bet Red was still lying unconscious on the floor in that fight club. People there don't much like the one who helped others.
Those people got a one way ticket to a graveyard or the hospital if they were lucky. Some guys had been taken out with coma's that kept them quiet for the rest of their miserable, little achieving lives.
Dean loved that.
He called it social justice. Sam called it violence. John called it both.
Dean snuggled into the cushions a little more.
"Are you ok Dean?" A whiny voice smashed through his thoughts.
"Do I look ok to you Sammy?"
"I dunno…that's why I asked see. It's what smart people do when they want answers."
"Why can't the smart people figure it out for themselves if they're so smart?"
"Because…"
"I thought so."
"Dean?"
"What now?"
"Are you ok?"
"No…"
"WHAT?"
"I am fabulous."
"Jerk."
"Dude? Is that your vocabulary? The only insult you know?"
Dean almost missed the muttered 'Jerk' that his brother threw at him before returning to pouring over his homework.
"You know you have to go back to school tomorrow don't you?"
"You point being…?"
"Don't you have homework?"
"Are you offering to do it? Oh, Sammy, you are too kind, it's just in my bag."
"Dean!"
"Silence would be good."
A wide grin spread across Dean's features, a charming flash of teeth that could morph into a thousand watt smile and melt every girl in sight.
He loved it when little brothers did homework.
OoOoOoOoO
Red McFinnigan flexed his fingers before wrapping them around the small object.
He smiled, flashing a set of teeth that screamed 'bad dental plan' and 'floss me at least once in your lifetime'.
Then he poised a steady hand with no difficulty, bruises covered by a leather glove.
He sat alone in the room, but his loneliness had anger and resentment to proved company.
He threw the object with a flick of the hand.
A thud resounded as it caused the wall to shake a little on impact. The man stood, dark eyes narrowed as he threw on last look to the tiny object before sweeping for the room.
A tiny ray of light lingered in the doorway, just enough to illuminate a photo of a young fifteen year old, a dart square in the chest.
A plan and a future for Dean Winchester.
Red McFinnigan never failed his plans.
TBC
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As I said earlier, if you want more you need to review. Thanks for reading.
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Keep Smilin': D shadowmayne