Usual disclaimers about owning nothing Supernatural apply!

Inspired by the Secret Santa wish lists over at STCOL(AR)S as requested by Starliteyes17. As before I am so grateful for all the wonderful reviews. I haven't had a chance to respond personally to all of them yet as Christmas sort of took over but everyone was really appreciated.

The hands of time

Chapter 4. A special gift

"Where the hell is the little brat?" demanded Buzz, his fists clenching the collar of the shorter man, pulling him up on tiptoes as he vented his frustration. "If he such a freaking beacon you should be able to see him a mile off."

"He must be hiding, its dark, there's lots of places he could be," stuttered Wes as the heavier man much shoved him away with a curse.

In the blackness that blanketed the woods the kid was nigh impossible to find, and for all he knew may have made it back to the roadside and have already been picked up by someone else. They should have waited until they got back to Burkesville but he wasn't stupid enough to say that to Buzz though and held his tongue as his eyes anxiously searched out the darkness.

The way the older man was tearing apart the bushes he knew that Buzz was not going to let this one go, not with the thought of easy money slipping from his grasp. Wes bit his lip in fear and frustration as he could feel the violence building within the bigger man and just didn't want to be on the receiving end when he did explode.

"When I get hold of that little runt I'm gonna beat him senseless," snarled Buzz as he beat the bushes around him with a large stick. Buzz and Mother Nature were never in any natural balance and this little trek through the woods just pissed him off even more.

When he had seen the boy exit the impala he thought it would only take a few seconds to catch up with him, but who would have thought that such a little kid could run so freaking fast? Chasing after his meal ticket, a scrawny little bundle of psychic energy according to Wes, was not his idea of spending a good time, especially when he had made plans to blow a wad of money tonight over at Benjy's high class strip joint. Money the missing little runt was supposed to supply him with.

A sharp whistle drew away his attention away from a clump of bushes he had beating at. Wes was waiving him over and in a few strides he could see metal glinting in the moonlight and his face twisted in a vicious sneer eyeing the barrier of razor wire dividing up the area.

Patting the thin shoulder of the smaller man appreciatively he crowed out loudly, "So at least the brat is still around here somewhere."

Spinning around to assess the area with sharper eyes, twirling the large stick menacingly in his hand, he added, "I know you think you're clever hiding liking this you little runt. You'd better get your sorry ass out here double lickety quick speed because if you make me spend any longer in this stupid wood I am so gonna beat your ass when I find you. You hear me you kid?"

When he got no answer he threw in temper the heavy stick into the air so that it whacked solidly against a nearby tree trunk. Cracking his knuckles he snorted angrily over at Wes. "When I'm through with that kid not even his freaking mother will be able to recognise him."

Wes nodded mutely, thankful that at least the kid would be on this side of the woods and that helped narrow down the hunt a little bit more. Still time was against them now. How soon would it before the driver of the impala was found by some passing motorist? And then what? What would Buzz do then?

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Sam stilled himself, hearing the angry voices of the men from up where the fence was. Angry voices that threatened to hurt him more. Pushing himself further into the nestling foliage he gasped in pain for a brief second but managed to stop any further sound escaping despite the burning stings from the myriad of cuts criss-crossing his small frame and huddled deeper under the bush.

Taking a deep steadying breath he tried to remind himself what Dean had told him in the car. To ring a friend. Not daddy or Pastor Jim, but some strange lady his brother said would help and he really needed that now because Dean looked really badly hurt.

Waiting for the voices to disappear he curled up on his side, shivering in the cold, fighting down his tears. 'Daddy wouldn't want you crying like this', he admonished himself rubbing away the moisture from his cheeks with the cuff of his jacket. 'You're not a baby anymore and you've got to get help for Dean.' Swallowing down the last sob, the image of his brother's bloody face was a constant memory, all the time wishing that his daddy was here yet again to make it all right and safe again.

When the voices had faded and the silence nestled around him once more he pulled out the phone and pressed star and 2. His face fell apart when the line beeped at him and there was no answer. Waiting a few more minutes he tried again and still there was that annoying beeping and still no answer.

Perhaps Dean had given him the wrong number he reasoned. If he couldn't reach Dean's friend then he really would have to ring daddy, despite what his brother had told him.

Carefully he scrolled down the list of names on the screen and his eyes brightened at seeing a familiar name. Remembering what Dean had shown him earlier he pressed the green button and waited for his dad to pick up. He was startled to hear the deep timbered voice answer and he squeaked out an excited 'daddy…' before realising it was just a message and he fell silent concentrating on the words.

With a snort of disbelief as the message ended he answered in a tight whisper of annoyance. "That's plain stupid daddy. It's Dean that needs help. Why would I ring him when he needs you?"

Shaking now from the cold he tried to get more comfortable, resting against the spine of the large bush as he tried next Pastor Jim's number. The ringing tone gave him hope and he blurted out an expectant 'hello' when a voice answered.

It was woman's voice and he hesitated before asking quickly, "I need to speak with Pastor Jim. It's really important."

There was a pause and the woman's voice seemed to have softened. "I'm sorry son but Pastor Jim passed away a few months ago."

"Passed away?" queried Sam not quite sure what she meant. "So I can't speak to him?"

"No I'm sorry son, like I said the Pastor died a few months ago. Perhaps I can help you instead?"

Sam snapped the phone off and huddled into himself a feeling of desperate panic taking over. Pastor Jim dead? Why hadn't his brother told him? And why would daddy's phone have such a strange message about ringing Dean if people needed help.

There was too much to think on and his head throbbed at trying to process it all. None of this was real, it couldn't be? This was just like the bad dreams he had and that only Dean could stop.

Refusing to sit and struggle with to many scary thoughts he struggled out from under the bush, the time for hiding gone, despite how much his wounded frame protested. He needed to get back to his brother, and going back to the car to see what the men had done to him was now his only option.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Missouri listened as her old friend related the events of the day. Her phone beeped that another call was waiting but she knew just how much Marjorie needed her support right now and ignored it. "Listen honey, I know it's scary stuff but those boys really could do no better than having you battle their corner right now."

"Scary is an understatement Missy, you may be okay fighting the dark stuff but I for one just wish it had never come to my doorstep. That little boy is a danger to himself and everyone around him. He's already attracted one spirit into my shop, and that's less than ten minutes after showing up…"

"Really? Oh my, well that's not good is it?" responded Missouri, a little bit shocked at how strong the little child was projecting. "The sooner they get back to you the better. I'll fax over those protection spells and they should keep the pesky little critters away. Still Mazza you have to keep trying to locate that little witch that started all this."

"Well that's the funny thing when I did a reading there was nothing sinister at all to feel. Unless she was able to mask her true nature I do not think she meant any harm to Sam, she just did what Dean desired. I can still feel some energy from her, but locating it, her, is going to be very hard."

Missouri's face puckered up in annoyance as the phone beeped at her again, and she asked her friend. "So you're telling me that Dean wished for this and voila big Sam turns into little Sammy? Now what on earth can do that? I wish I was with you right now as I feel we would get to the bottom of this much so much quicker."

Laughing nervously Marjorie agreed. "Don't you think I don't wish that also. Missy this is creepy stuff and the coward in me doesn't know if I can come through for those boys. I'm not you."

A small snort of irritation came down the line. "Listen to me Marjorie Brown I warned you that peddling that junk in your shop would make you soft. Its time to put Madame Garbor aside and get back to what you do best."

She heard her friend sniff nervously down the line and she quickly added. " I can still remember that woman who stripped a house of a poltergeist with just a flask of holy water and prayer a few years back, so its time for you to remember just how strong you are. Have faith in yourself girl, just like I have faith in you"

"If you say so Missy," answered Marjorie with a soft chuckle at having her knuckles rapped by her old friend. She waited for some sort of come back at the other end of the line but it was eerily quiet. "Missy?" she asked concerned.

"Oh my lord", whispered Missouri finally her voice shaking. "The child was trying to call me. Even now he is reaching out."

Tears filled her eyes, at the pain rolling down to her from such a distance. "He's scared Marjorie. Something bad has happened. I can't see it clearly but those boys need you now. Hurry they're off the highway, the road back to Burkeville. Hurry."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Sam jumped when the phone vibrated in his pocket. He was staring at the razor wire with fresh fear wondering how to get past it and the sudden vibration made him leap backwards to totter momentarily on the lip of the incline. Finding his equilibrium he crouched down and snuck out the phone. "Hello?" he asked nervously in a whisper.

"Oh child, thank the heavens," came a soft southern accent.

"Who are you?" asked Sam cautiously not able to recognise the voice.

"I'm Missouri, a friend of your brother's." She waited for some response and could feel the child's chaotic thoughts run through her head. "I know you're scared Sam but tell me where you are? Tell me what's happened."

She wasn't prepared for the raw pain to rush down the line and felt her mind collapsing under the assault and found herself gasping out loud, fighting the flood of images exploding in her head. Still as the last fragile emotion hit her she had her answers and finally was able to say. "It's okay Samuel. I know what's happened. You just stay where you are honey. Marjorie is coming to get you. "

"The orange haired lady?" asked Sam tentatively, looking at the id on the phone to make sure that it really was his brother's friend calling. "What about Dean? I have to get back to him as those bad men hurt him. Daddy isn't here so someone has to look after him."

She heard his breath hiccup followed by the sound of the child crying and the struggle he was going through hit her again.

// And she said that Pastor Jim is dead. Why would she say that?

// Why isn't my daddy here to stop the bad things as it's really really dark and I'm scared and I'm not supposed to be out alone. Not ever.

// Dean's head got busted up good and proper. There was so much blood. What it he doesn't wake up and daddy doesn't ever come back?

// Maybe daddy is still mad at me for asking to see Santa. Is that why Dean told me not to ring him? Did he find out that Dean spent so much money on me today? I don't want to make him mad anymore.

// That Marjorie woman smells funny, just like her shop, and I don't want to stay with her even though those dragons were really cool.

// Miss Goynes told me all about bears in class and there could be hungry ones in the woods readying to eat me up? And I'm cold. And those cuts sting something fierce. And I shouldn't be alone. It's too dark.

// Please make Dean wake up and make things right again as that bad man said he would beat me and I don't know why they want to hurt me. Why isn't my daddy here to stop them?

"Oh honey," interjected Missouri over the child's wild rambling thoughts that took literally a nanosecond to download itself down the line. "No bears are gonna eat you Sammy. And your brother will be just fine, you just wait and see. As for that bad man, go hide until Marjorie comes and gets you. You'll be safe soon enough child. I promise."

Sam's stopped sniffling, more than a little surprised by her words and all he could mutter weakly out in return, "And Dean too?"

He wanted to be strong, just like his brother was, just like his dad expected him to be but today was just too damn scary to make the terror and panic disappear by the words of this strange woman he had never met before.

"Dean will be fine," responded Missouri with us much authority as she could feeling the boy starting to slip away from her control, "I know how worried you must be but I also know that you are also a very brave boy, so do what I say and wait for Marjorie."

"Okay," whispered Sam before finally clicking off the phone, all the while wondering about this new friend of his brother. How did she know about the bears? Had he said his fears out loud? Has she heard him crying? Oh god, now she would think him such a girl.

Struggling back down the incline to his bush of choice he scurried back under it, silently thankful that he hadn't had to go through the razor wire again. His cuts were starting to sting less but every time he moved they seemed to reopen and hurt all over again.

Cradling his chin to his knees he tried to ignore the cold seeping up through the frozen ground up his legs and back. He had to trust this Missouri woman and let them get help for his brother.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Missouri's description of Dean's car was spot on and could not be mistaken even at the odd an angle she now viewed it from. It had sheered off the road and had careered into a small thicket of bushes but the rear view was all classic impala.

"Raymond there it is," Marjorie pointed out excitedly to her nephew. As the police car pulled up behind the impala the Sheriff gave a snort of disapproval as Marjorie jumped out of the passenger seat and run over to the driver's side of the impala.

"Aunt Marjorie wait up," he cried out after her, pulling out his gun, his grey eyes searching out the surrounding area for any signs of danger. He followed after his aunt realising the she was not going to stop any time soon. She never did.

"Oh my lord, Dean!" gasped out Marjorie in horror at the bloody mess his head was in, wincing for him as she reached out and pulled him upright off the dashboard. A welcoming groan met her ears and she recalled the head wounds always looked worse than they actually were due to how much they bled. Vast quantities it appeared she reckoned slightly nauseated at the sight.

Whipping of her long silk scarf she dabbed away at the thankfully drying crimson stain on his forehead and face. She knew not to expect Sam in the car but the little boy out there without his brother at his side caused an unsettling fear to stab at her and she shook her head in worry. "Come on Dean, wakey wakey sweetheart."

"Auntie, you should wait until the medics can take a look at him," warned her nephew standing over her, trying to assess the situation as best he could. There was a lot of blood and he knew moving someone with a head injury was never a good thing.

Marjorie shook her head. "Tosh Raymond. Dean needs to wake up. That little boy is out there and needs us to get to him." Sensing his reluctance she turned her face up to her nephew. "Ray honey, I know I'm asking a lot of you but this is really important. Please trust me on this one. That little boy really needs our help now."

The Sheriff nodded, not as cognitively aware as his aunt but had enough of the gift that went down their family line to trust her implicitly. When she said that she needed his help he knew it was never going to be cut and dry case.

Freaky stuff had followed his aunt all her life, why should it be any different now. Psychics, magic spells and kidnapping had to rank high on his lists of things that he knew he would never sit down and type up in a report. He just prayed that whatever his aunt was leading him into could be covered up before his career totally bottomed out and, god forbid, his wife found out.

"Come on son give a me glimpse of those pretty green orbs of yours," teased the psychic urgently and was rewarded as the slowly awakening man stared back her with more than a hint of confusion in them. Marjorie smiled in relief only to wince in pain as a hand reached out and squeezed her wrist in alarm and she tried to soothe the man. "Dean its okay. Your safe now."

"Sammy. Where's Sammy?" he demanded, trying to pull together his last memories with his brother and with a shuddering groan he had his answer. "Oh god, I told him to run. To get away. They were coming for him."

"Who? Who was after your brother?" demanded the Sheriff only to see the wounded man flinch visibly at noticing his presence. He needed some answers before charging into the woods to find the boy. He needed to know what he was up against and how to keep his reckless aunt safe.

Marjorie quickly interjected seeing the distrust on Dean's face appear on noting the uniform. "He's my nephew Dean, Ray Brown, and despite what you might think yes you can rely on him."

Pushing aside the ache in his skull Dean slowly nodded and answered the Sheriff. "Two men, they drove us off the road. They're armed. Shot out the window. I told Sam to run. I told him to go, to ring Missouri, to get help."

Ray nodded familiar already with half of the story from his aunt. "Yeah Miss Mosely spoke with him and told him to remain hidden." Standing up straight he started to head back to his car, shouting over his shoulder. "I'll get my torch. Ring your brother and try and find out where he is. Tell him I coming to get him."

As he walked back to his patrol car he remembered the argument he had with his aunt when he said the local police should have been called straight away and not her psychic buddy that had always secretly scared the bejeezers out of him whenever they met up. A little boy, he reasoned, out in the woods hiding from men with guns needed more than a distantly challenged psychic to cover his back.

Still Missouri Mosely he knew from past encounters, was not a woman to be taken lightly and bolstered by his aunt's insistence that this fly under police radar he had given into her once again. Then again refusing Aunt Madge had always been a near impossibility, and that married with the escapades that went along with her gifts, didn't make for a dull life at times. Groaning, as he opened the trunk and rooted around for a torch he knew that he should taken uncle Herb's advice and become an accountant.

Dean watched the Sheriff leave, thankful that Sam had followed orders and had remained safe, and fumbled for his phone. Shaky fingers struggled to flip open the phone and he was grateful when Marjorie took the phone from him.

The psychic patted Dean's shoulder absently as she waited for the child to pick up and her brow furrowed in worry when there was no answer. Then she heard Dean curse out loud, his eyes locked onto the empty road in front of him fear blanching the colour from his cheeks. The grey car of the shooter was gone.

Marjorie skin prickled at the alarm rolling off him, and judging from the look of panic on the older brother's face she already knew why the child wasn't answering.

"Bastards," Dean screamed out loud, pushing up in his seat, ridding himself of that soft fuzzy feeling that had dulled his senses since he had woken up. "I'll kill them if they've hurt him. I'll fucking skin them alive and personally drag their souls down to hell itself."

"Raymond," she called out after her nephew hurriedly. "Its too late. I think they've already got him."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Wes sucked the cut on his thumb that continued to dribble. Damn razor wire had cut like a bitch he cursed silently, feeling the stings of a dozen other cuts on his legs and arms. Still a few cuts were better than a threatened beating from Buzz if he hadn't followed after him. The remnants of a red cloth on the wire had shown then the way the kid had gone and he could only imagine what panic had driven him through the steel teeth.

The moment they had gotten over the wire and looked down the small incline he had caught sight of the youngster, still glowing like a like a thousand watt light bulb even under the heavy dark leaves of the bush he was hiding under, and this time Buzz was on him so fast he didn't stand a chance of getting away.

The terror radiating off the youngest had made his stomach well and truly turn, but thankfully that was swiftly put to rest with a large smack around the head that left the youngster instantly knocked out cold.

Buzz has thrown the now limp youngster over his shoulder like a small sack of potatoes and they had hot tailed it back to the car. The driver of the impala was still out of it and Buzz was too focused on making a quick getaway to put a much longed bullet through his head. The guy was one lucky man thought Wes. Still he couldn't help but feel sorry for the unconscious man as Buzz dumped the small child with a large thud into the trunk. This would have been his last night with his son. A son that he guessed that he would be black and blue by the morning if Buzz's driving was anything to go by as he was rolled back and forth in the small confines of the trunk. May be the kid would be lucky and escape the marring of bruises by morning because he could but guess what she would do with the child before then.

As they pulled away in a dangerous swing and a squeal of tires a distant headlight came over the lip of the road and Wes knew that they had gotten away by the seat of their pants. Razor wire cuts and all at least they had the child. Now all they had to do was make it back to Burkeville, get Buzz his money and then the exciting part of his day could well and truly really begin.

This child was one anniversary gift to her that he knew would trump all others.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

She waited patiently, savouring the full flavoured claret warming on the tongue, enjoying the silence before they all descended and demanded her attention, her time.

Curling her bare feet under her she took another sip of the wine and smiled appreciatively. Tonight was special, a time of gift giving and of taking and already so much had been promised to her. There was so much to be thankful for, to look forward to.

Already one gift lingered in a back room readying for the feast. A sweet little gift, perfectly packaged in red. Wes was doing her proud this year picking her up as she left the motel this morning. The girl was a delight and the little boy to come promised even more.

TBC

I think there is another chapter or two for me to squeeze out here, and I will try and post an update as soon as possible! Here's hoping you've all enjoyed Christmas and are looking forwards to a great New Year! Roz.