A/N: Hmm, didn't get to this last night. Hopefully that's not too big a deal for anybody. Thanks for the reviews, I really appreciate the feedback as this story takes a few chapters to get going. It picks up tempo as it goes and Dean gets his first try at pre teen kicking tail, lol. Hope to hear from you - it lets me know I'm not wasting time (not that I never do that, of course, but if I can argue I'm being productive here, then I don't have to feel guilty about not cleaning the house!)
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Jump?
Dean tried to gauge their speed, wondering if he dared to push his little brother out of a moving car. Sam would trust him to do it, and in some ways that was exactly the problem. What if that trust led to Dean getting him killed? No, the car was too fast - he had to think of another way. Waiting until they stopped didn't seem smart either, every mile was taking them further away from their dad. Well, that might not technically be true, since Dean had no idea which way they were going or where their dad might be, but the idea was sound. They were getting further from familiar territory. He had to get the car stopped.
"Hey, Mr. Weaver?" Dean motioned for Sam to be quiet.
"What kid?"
"Sammy needs to go to the bathroom. Can we stop?"
Derrick's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, taking in the older boy staring back at him, the smaller one curled in a ball in his lap. "Sam should have gone before we left the hospital. We'll be there soon."
Dean tried to keep his voice nonchalant. "Your car, man, but I doubt he can wait. Kid's got a peanut for a bladder and that nurse gave him like three sodas."
"First of all, you don't address me as man. Children these days are a disrespectful lot. Please and sir are going to work out a lot better for you than being a smart mouth. Secondly, I say where we stop. If he really needs to go that badly, I think there's a place a few miles ahead. We are not pulling off the side of the road like heathens, understood?"
Dean swallowed the sharp words lingering on his tongue. This man obviously hadn't figured out that Sam recognized him and playing along might keep his little brother safe for now. "Yes sir."
Dean was hoping they might pull into a fast food restuarant or store, some place where he could enlist help. Unfortunately, Derrick wasn't that dumb. After another fifteen minutes he pulled into a rest area that was largely abandoned at this time of night and stopped the car ten feet from the bathroom door. Dean signaled to Sam that he wanted him to actually go, it would give him a minute to look around and see if there was anyone there or some sort of escape route.
Sam gave a nervous glance backward as Derrick walked him the short distance to the restroom, large hand resting between narrow shoulder blades. To his credit, he didn't flinch. He might only be seven, but he wasn't a baby. Winchesters never got that chance, but he still hoped Dean figured this out soon. He would. Dean always figured out everything.
The sight of Derrick's hand on his brother irritated Dean, but he shrugged it off when the man stopped at the bathroom door, not following Sam inside. Sam had no idea why that might be a bad idea, and he intended to keep it that way. It was past midnight now, and Dean couldn't see any other cars nearby. Leaning against the side of the sedan, he surveyed the surrounding area. Even running here was a gamble, best they could hope for was a place to wait out the night. The area behind the small building was forested and hilly, so it should have any number of hidey holes.
Dean sighed. Making a run for it looked like the only alternative to getting back in that car. He starting thinking through everything their dad ever told him about how to hit someone bigger and stronger than you are. Derrick was a big guy and in the end Dean was fairly sure he'd get the crap beat out of him. It didn't matter as long as Sam didn't catch on too soon. His throat went a little dry - this was not going to be fun.
Sam walked back out into the night air, eyes immediately going to his older brother. Saw the eyebrow climb, took a breath for whatever Dean was planning.
Dean mirrored the deep breath, then gave a single nod at his brother. Show time. Dean whirled on Derrick, bringing a knee up in his crotch and screaming at the same time. "Sam! Run!" He heard the sound of his brother's pounding feet as Derrick doubled over, cursing at his smaller attacker. Dean grabbed a handful of the man's hair, slamming his head into the car window with a rather satisfying crack.
"You kicked him! He's a little kid!" Dean pulled his fist back, aiming for the throat. Unfortunately Derrick straightened up at the last minute, letting Dean's punch carry into the glass of the car. At least it didn't break.
"You're a just kid too and you're going to regret this, you little shit." Derrick punctuated his complaints with three hard punches to Dean's middle, knocking the wind out of him. To make matters worse, Sam called out from the woods.
"Dean! Come on! Dean!?"
Dean managed to kick out at Derrick, knocking him a few feet backward. "Keep going Sam! Hide until daylight, come down here when there is a crowd. Wait for four cars, at least!" Shouting at Sam and ducking a grown man trying to knock the stuffing out of him was proving problematic.
"But Dean..."
"Sammy GO!!" Come on kiddo, I can't buy much more time here. Derrick backed away, swiftly lashing out with a foot that caught Dean in the temple. The eleven year old crumpled to the pavement.
Sam saw his brother fall and almost stopped running again. Sam could already quote endless Johnathan Winchester lectures on what to do in a fight, but it was all theoretical knowledge. He'd never been on a hunt and no human had ever hit him, or Dean either for that matter. Dean had gone on simpler hunts, and the number one rule there was obey Dad. Number one rule here was probably obey Dean. Keep running.
Derrick nudged Dean with a boot, decided the kid wasn't getting up. Time to catch the other one. He grabbed a small supply bag from below the seat, pulling out the flashlight as he started into the woods.
The dark was as much an enemy as the man behind him, Sam having to slow his already short stride to dodge trees that seemed to jump into his path. Twice roots tripped him, allowing the footfalls behind him to draw closer. He could feel him catching up. This last burst of effort wasn't going to be enough. An arm snaked around him, lifting him off his feet until he was held tight against Derrick's chest. He tried kicking backward, his feet striking kneecaps, but it didn't help.
"Be still! Enough! God I hate kids." Derrick struggled to yank a length of fabric out of his bag without dropping the wildly struggling Sam. "Did you just bite me?! Shit." He finally brought the dampened wad of cloth to Sam's face, holding it tight until the drugged youngster went limp in his arms.
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"Idiot!" Abgail turned her back on the man before her, heels stomping against the dark marble floor. The manicured nails tapped against the door frame, plum polish precisely matching the nubbed silk of her designer suit. The deeper purple of an amethyst caught the light at her hand and throat. A bystander would have still found her beautiful, no longer young but somehow more exotic for it, shoulder length chestnut hair swinging in to frame smoke grey eyes eyes and an incongruent smattering of faint freckles. Derrick Weaver, however, knew her far too well to consider her beautiful. Abigail Williams was terrifying.
He was foolishly beginning to hope that she was disgusted enough with him to go on out the door. Instead she spun back around, flushed face poorly concealing her anger. "Remind me why you were playing foster parent, Derrick." The purr of her voice rattled the bones in his spine.
"Abigail, I'm sorry. I know this isn't how this was supposed to work. That social worker, Karen, she wouldn't listen to me. Insisted I take both boys. I'd have lost them both if I'd protested any more. I told your brother this was too complicated...." He flinched as her fingernails left a bloody trail down his already bruised cheek. "Abigail, please..."
"Please what? Please listen to you when you couldn't even get some county social worker to listen? Please don't scar that ugly face of yours? Please don't let any more eleven year old children crack on your skull? Please don't serve you as tonight's main course?" She chuckled, putting a hand on his shoulder and lightly pushing him to his knees. "No need to blame my brother dear, this plan of his was too complicated. I told him that an hour ago, right before I killed him. I always did want to be an only child anyway. But what to do with you?"
Derrick felt the painful tightening in his chest, felt the air squeezing out of his lungs as she stared at him, her perfect white teeth gleaming in a seductive smile as he began to flail on the floor. "P-Please..."
Was that it then? His last word? He didn't think he could draw breath for another, not that begging was likely to sway her. His vision began to grey into nothing, the edges fading along with his awareness. Dying....And then it stopped. Sudden inexplicable relief. All he could hear was his own gasping wheeze as he fought to return air to his lungs.
"Get off the floor, you look like a dying fish." The kid leather of Italian pumps accented each word with a soft kick. "Take care of that social worker tonight, she annoys me. I need to consider what to do with my extra house guest, I never intended to have both of the brats here. Meanwhile, have Bill or Steven keep an eye out for John Winchester. If one of his sons actually was in foster care as intended, we could have counted on that keeping him busy for a day or two. I'm certain he would have stayed in town long enough to go through the court process of getting the sure bet back before he started tracking the other boy. Now I'll have to reassess my time table. Consider yourself lucky that I hate babysitting. Otherwise, I would just kill you."
He'd pulled himself back to his feet as she spoke, heavily leaning on the mahogany dining table that commanded center stage in the room. "T-Thank you. I'm sorry, truly, I'll make sure you don't regret this. Thank you. I'll have Bill go take care of the social worker, and I'll see to the boys. Thank you."
"Oh, stop brown nosing. It bores me. Derrick, see that you don't take too much of your embarrassment about tonight out on the little tykes. I do need at least the one."
"Yes ma'am."
