Okay guys, a new fic here. Something a little bit different to what I've done before but I hope you enjoy. Title:
Summary: In a world where the 'unkown' is common knowledge and 'hunters' are relegated to merely survivors, humanity is dwindling. With human lives traded as currency, John and Sam Winchester find themselves with a new tool for their arsenal – a 'bait' named Dean.
Pairings: None yet but either way, it's still going to be Gen. No Wincest here folks!
Genre: It's an AU but I've tried to keep everyone in character as best I can. Could probably pass as a slavefic as well.
Warnings: Violence, Swearing, Abuse, Slavery, Memories of child abuse. Abused!Dean, Hurt!Dean, Scared!Dean etc etc. Oh yeah, minor character death.Oh yes. This was betad (very well) by the wonderful smokeyhorse who is the one prodding me along with this, lol. Thanks a lot to her!
Bait
Chapter One
John is exhausted and his eyes sting as the iris scanner momentarily blinds him. The tiny blip of technology seems out of place in the huge cedar-wood gate but he's used to it now and it barely registers. The light passes over Sammy too, who waves to the guards and the huge door finally creaks open.
John limps on through, Sam walking beside him with long, powerful strides.
Youth is wasted on the young, John thinks with a rueful shake of his head as his son bounds off towards the crowd that's gathered to meet them. There are cheers and whoops and John is clapped on the back as he trudges through the mass of people. He should be cheering along with them; he's just achieved his life's ambition, after all. Heck, if there was anything left to celebrate in the living nightmare Planet Earth had become, this was it. Well, John Winchester never was one for cheering.
He leaves Sam to deal with the elated rabble of hunters and simply sinks himself down on the nearest thing he can find. The overturned metal drum is cold and rusty and does nothing for his sore hip.
"You ain't look like a man who just killed Azazel."
John looks up, watching as the man seats himself without invitation. He recognises him – Jeremy Edwin, a man John's heard nothing good about and has already decided he doesn't like. He is balding early and looks somewhere between thirty and forty years old. The thin sheen of sweat on his brow indicates he's more nervous than his attitude suggests.
The man is wearing the remains of a suit, the tie long gone, the trousers frayed and worn, the cufflinks gone, most likely traded for something. He's probably the most well dressed guy in the whole camp and John dislikes him even more for that.
"Yeah? What's that guy supposed to look like then?" John asks disinterestedly. He drops his attention back to the dirt in between his feet, not remotely interested in Edwin's answer. Hasn't he earned some peace and quiet? Still, it doesn't do to make enemies here and John's too exhausted for a confrontation
"He's supposed to have a fucking smile on his face for one!" Edwin beams at his own comment, clapping his hand on John's shoulder in a false show of companionship. John wonders if the guy would still be smiling if he reached up and broke a few of his yellow, nicotine-stained fingers.
"Sorry to disappoint." John scuffs the ground with his worn boots, wonders if he has to carve 'fuck off' into the dirt before this guy will get the message that he wants to be left alone.
"Not much for smiling, are you, John?"
He's not told the man his name and, even if he does have a reputation (which will only grow after today's events) he's still immediately wary. He lifts his eyes to stare into Edwin's green ones and watches the flicker of a smirk pass over the man's face.
Fuck this. He's not in the mood for power games.
"What do you want?" John snaps impatiently.
"I want to give you something to make you smile." And that just sounds all kinds of wrong to John's ears.
"Sorry, buddy," John stands and deliberately doesn't wince when his hip protests, carving his features into a smirk instead of a grimace, "but I don't swing that way."
"Hilarious, John." Edwin stands, too, and John can tell he's pissed the man off.
"It made me smile," John shoots over his shoulder as he walks away. He wants some quiet, a beer and a smoke but he'll settle for any one of those.
"Boy!"
John stops walking at this - where does Edwin get off calling him a 'boy'? He may be exhausted from the battle with Azazel but John Winchester has enough energy left to teach this guy some respect. Petty? Maybe. But respect is about the only thing in the world worth a damn any more.
"Before you leave, John, I have something for you."
John turns back to face Edwin as he speaks and then does a double-take as he notices the younger man is no longer alone. By his side is another man, a lot younger (probably a few years older than Sam) but by no means a child. Still, he's a boy in John's eyes, too.
John remains silent as he looks over the young man. He's a tall guy, the thinness of his body only adding to that effect. His hair, under the dirt and what looks worryingly like blood, is a soft brown colour, just like Sam's, and the one eye which isn't bruised shut is light green and flecked with hazel. All in all, the boy's a mess and John has no clue what he's doing there but something tells him not to dismiss this situation outright. Something he doesn't even want to contemplate stops him from just walking away.
"This is yours," Edwin speaks, shoving the younger man forward until he stands between John and himself.
"Who is this?" John frowns. He doesn't want to ask questions, to show any weakness, but he can't help it. He's heard stories of what happened to kids from the new generation, kids whose parents died, kids who grew up with no other frame of reference than this corrupt, demon-controlled world, kids whose parents sold them. It makes John sick and he feels his hands curl into fists at the thought of it. His brittle, jagged fingernails cut semi-circles into his palms as another thought pushes into his brain.
Kids whose parents couldn't find them?
"A new toy for you," Edwin sneers and John is at least grateful that the unpleasant man is drowning out John's equally unpleasant thoughts, "It's bait."
"I don't take in strays." It breaks John's heart to say it, even if the kid doesn't flinch at his rejection. He knows what will likely happen to the boy after this and even if it doesn't, life as 'bait' is hardly life at all. The hunter can't believe he's sentencing a kid to that but he has Sammy to think of. Anything or anyone associated with Edwin is to be treated with suspicion, and, on top of that, John doesn't really have the resources to look after another hungry mouth.
"It's a gift, John. You shouldn't refuse a gift, especially not this one."
John wants to scream. He's just had the most intense battle of his life. He's given the humans a major one-up and this is the thanks he gets - the last thing he wants from the person he least wants it from. He has to end this now before those treacherous thoughts at the back of his mind start becoming insistent enough to listen to.
"I'm not interested."
"Oh, well." Edwin shrugs with mock hurt and then his face schools itself into his normal, cruel features. "On your knees, Bait."
At this, the hard, uncompromising eyes of the youngest man actually flinch as he briefly turns them to John. And then, as John forces himself to look away, they flood with anger, before that familiar emotionless stare takes over.
"I said on your knees!" Edwin pushes the boy into the dirt and John flinches at the force of it.
You don't care, he speaks harshly to himself. You don't care, you don't care...
"What are you doing?" The words come out of John's mouth before he can stop them.
Shut up, you're trying not to care remember?
"Dad?"
The word makes John freeze for a second as he stares at the boy. No, no, no…It can't be! It isn't. Oh, please…
"Dad, what's going on?"
John's heart feels like it's trying to turn itself inside out as Sam appears next to him and he realises that it was his son who spoke, not the boy on the ground.
"Are you okay? What's happening?" Sam's eyes are flickering between John, Edwin, and the unnamed youth and John watches them widen as Edwin brings out a revolver.
"Sam, get out of here." John knows it won't do any good, Sam's never followed his orders anyway and asking him to walk away from this situation is asking the impossible for his curious, kind-hearted son.
"Ah, the famous Sam Winchester. Good work today, kid." Edwin is speaking without even looking up as he slides bullets into the chamber. He's loaded three before Sam replies.
"What the hell's going on?"
"You father was very ungrateful and now he's too much of a coward to face up to what he knows." Edwin looks straight at John, popping the sixth bullet into the chamber as he speaks the final word, neither man noticing the almost-hidden flinch of the intended recipient of those bullets.
"Dad?" Sam questions again but John simply can't find it in him to speak. He doesn't know anything and how could Edwin know about…about what happened?
"Walk away, Sam!" he finally chokes out, his voice higher than normal, and Sam simply narrows his eyes in response only for them to fly open again as Edwin places the gun barrel against the forehead of the youth kneeling in the dirt. The youth closes his eyes but Sam can see him shaking even from a metre away. He knows, if someone had a gun to his head, there's no way he would be so calm.
"You gonna let your Daddy make the biggest mistake of his life, Sammy-boy?" Edwin smirks and Sam scowls before pulling out his own gun. John is surprised, Sam doesn't usually respond with violence but his son's display of strength is enough to snap him out of the stupor he was in.
"Drop the act, Edwin! You can't kill a man in cold blood - it's against the code" John snarls.
"The code doesn't apply to bait," Edwin sneers, his distaste for the youth at his feet obvious.
"He's a human being!" Sam shouts and John glows with pride. It takes something to raise a son with good morals in an immoral world. Maybe the boy had turned out a little softer than John wanted, a little more bookish than he expected and a damned sight more stubborn than John could have ever dreamed possible, but he loves his son unconditionally.
"No." Edwin's voice is cold, "He's bait, and if John doesn't want it then I've got no more use for it."
"I'll take him!" Sam blurts out, "Just don't kill him."
"I knew one of you would see sense." Edwin smiles. "Come on, we have a deal to complete."
I hope you enjoyed!