Escape
By
Ava Brett
Chapter Four
Disclaimer
None of the characters mentioned in the below work of fiction belong to me in any shape or form. I am merely using them for my own entertainment purposes.
Author Note
Here's the next chapter, sorry its so short but a lot of these chapters will be
I hope you enjoy it though
Over all Summary
A/U – When Sam is injured on a hunt Dean takes matters into his own hands. He is getting both him and his brother out of the hunting business once and for all. He'd do whatever it takes and nothing will stop him, not his father, not the law and certainly not the fact that he's a child. One way or another they will escape.
Chapter Summary
Search and you shall find…
The first thing Dean did was check on Sam. The younger boy was lying next to him; his breathing steady and even as he lightly sucked his thumb. His cheeks were red and Dean could still see the marks of tears on his cheeks but he seemed ok. He reached out and touched the back of his hand to Sam's forehead thankful to feel coolness beneath his skin. He knew from experience that heat normally was the first sign of an infection.
He touched his own skin but he felt normal.
He moved his arm experimentally and hissed slightly and the pain the action caused. Perhaps the spirit had caused some muscle damage when she had thrown him. Dean could remember reading a book about injuries at Bobby's house. He had read it through once, reading with a torch under the covers and memorising each word to memory so he could use it just in case Sammy needed him or became sick and they didn't know what it was. Dean had always been lucky that he could read something just once and remember it all.
He shuffled off of the bed, landing lightly on his feet and turned to watch Sam for a moment longer to ensure the other boy stayed asleep. Sam often had the habit of waking up the minutes Dean was out of bed and that was the last thing Dean needed now, Sam needed his rest so he could heal and Dean needed this time to put his plan into action.
He glanced towards the bathroom just to be certain that their Dad hadn't gone into their instead of outside but it appeared empty as was their father bed.
Dean shook his head and crept across the room to where their Dad kept his duffle bag. He unzipped it, wincing at how loud the noise of the zipper was in the otherwise silent room. He paused, looking back towards Sam as the other boy made a snuffling sound, turning on the bed and snuggling back down with a thankful sigh which soon became a snore.
Dean breathed out slowly turning back to the bag and peering into it.
There were clothes, the smell of which caused Dean's nose to wrinkle up in distaste, his Dad's journal was thrown on top though Dean didn't dare to touch it, it was their Dad's most precious possession he would have known the instant it was gone. There were bottles of stuff, pens, papers all covered with his Dad's messy unreadable handwriting, combs.
Dean stopped reaching in and pulling out the wicked looking knife.
He stared at it, swallowing hard, the blade was shiny and he could tell just by looking at it how sharp it was. It was knife made for killing. Dean tightened his hand on the pearly handle and let out his breath slowly.
The sound of footsteps coming towards the door spurred him into panicky action. He quickly did the bag up and shoved it back to where it was before he ran across the room, jumping on the bed, his heart pounding as he pushed the knife under his pillow and got under the cover. Closing his eyes just as the door reopened letting in their father.
Dean heard the sound of footsteps by his bed and waited, trying to keeping his breathing steady and deep so it looked as though he was sleeping.
He didn't know how long their Dad stood watching them but he eventually moved away allowing Dean to breathe a sigh of relief.
He reached under the table and wrapped his hand around the handle again.
He now had a weapon.
Author Note
I'm hoping the next chapter will be up over the weekend but we shall see…