...spn...
don't own any'tin
=sprdrkangel=
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=sprdrkangel=
It wasn't anyone's fault that it happened, not really, but that didn't mean there wasn't a whole lot of guilt swirling around the Winchester family.
It started with a simple haunting.
It was a days drive from the little town they had set up shop in, and as it was a Sunday and the boys had school, Alec decided to take care of it alone.
Making sure the cupboards were stocked with peanut butter and bread, he handed Dean enough lunch money to last till Wednesday (even though he expected to come back by Tuesday at the latest), and drove off in the Impala.
Things went fine, until he reached the haunted house in question.
It wasn't haunted.
Or at least it wasn't just haunted.
Alec had just finished tracking down the grave of some poor murdered girl for a salt and burn, when the scarecrow over looking the burial site came to life and chased him away before he could reach for a liter.
After a two days of research, he discovered the family that owned the farm had a long unlikely history of bad crops, pointing to some kind of curse on the land.
Another two days and a drive took him to the ancestors of a gypsy caravan, who ran him out of their house at gun point, but not before informing him that, no, they did not bare any ill will towards some family they hadn't heard of. This, evidentially, was enough to break the gypsy's grudge born curse, allowing him to return to the farm and put the girls ghost to rest.
He burnt the lifeless scarecrow for good measure.
That would have been the end of his excursion (three days late, but there should be enough food if the boys rationed it a bit) but a february snow storm blew in closing down all the roads till further notice.
It was Tuesday again before Alec managed to get back.
Frantic he sped past the small apartment towards the town's little public elementary school. Both boys should be there now. Alec planned to pick them up early, just to reassure himself of their safety.
Three long steps brought him from the parking lot to the school's office, and another six led him down the hall to Sammy's first grade classroom.
The seven year old seemed disappointed to be picked up so early, but dutifully grabbed his things and followed his uncle out. Dean's classroom was two halls down, but a quick glance of the room proved it to be devoid of any children resembling his mini-maker. Did he have the right room?
Alec tapped against the glass window on the door to attract the teacher's attention. A middle aged woman with bright red lipstick and spectacled opened the door with raised brow.
"Yes?"
"I'm Dean's uncle," Alec said with the inflection of a question.
"Oh, Mr. Winchester. We were wondering when you would pick up Dean's homework. Is he starting to feel better? He's got the flu right?"
Alec felt his heart jump, but managed to keep his voice steady. "Yes, it's nothing serious, I've just been letting him sleep it off."
The woman sniffed. "You're trying your best with those boys, I'm sure. Just make sure he gets his work done."
Alec collected the packet of papers the woman offered and waited until he had Sammy in the back of the Impala before he asked, "What was that teacher talking about?"
The seven year old shrugged. "Dean said he wasn't feelin' good a couple days ago, which is weird because he always felt better to walk me home from school. He gave me all his lunch money and we've been having pizza every night too." Sammy wrinkled his nose. "I hate pizza."
Alec raised an eyebrow. "You liked it when we had pizza a few weeks ago."
The boy shrugged again. "It's fine when you get pizza, but Dean always gets pizza with weird things on top.I always give the little fish to Joshua," he mock whispered the last part. "Don't tell Dean though."
Alec's hands were deceptively loose on the steering wheel. "Your secret's safe little man." The car pulled up in front of the small apartment complex. Inside their room a tiny brown puppy yelped and scratched at Sam's legs. There was no sign of the elder Winchester brother.
Alec eyed the stack of pizza boxed stacked on the counter, memorizing the name printed on cardboard. He knelt to rub the dog's ears and catch Sammy's attention.
"Hey, how about you take Joshua for a walk in the lot out back while I go find Dean?"
The boy blinked in confusion. "He's not here?"
"He just went out for a bit," Alec tried not to strain his grin. "I'll be back in an hour ok? You and Joshua have fun."
Sammy frowned, but dutifully tied the make shift leach to the puppy's collar and walked outside.
Alec watched him explore the weed encrusted corners of what was once a parking lot, but now functioned as a garden for the elements and apartment renters. Making sure the boy was relatively distracted and safe, he hastened to the Impala.
He found Dean in the mouth of an alley, his hands covered in grime where he had crouched. The boy looked at his care taker with wide eyes, like he'd been found with his hand in a cookie jar instead of a dumpster.
"What are you doing back here?" Alec sighed, though he had a pretty comprehensive idea.
"Waiting."
"For what?"
"Them to throw the boxes out."
"Why?"
"You call the pizza place and order something really weird on top of your pizza, then wait for them to throw it out. They can't sell it with anchovies and pineapple and barbecue chicken on top."
Alec didn't want to know how his mini-maker knew this trick, nor how many times he had to use it. "You're ten, you shouldn't be digging through the garbage."
Dean rubbed a dirty fist over his lips. "I'm eleven now sir."
Alec sighed. "Eleven then. Ok." He ran a hand through his hair. "Look I'm going to call you in sick tomorrow, and you're going to come work with me."
Dean perked up. "Hunting?"
The transgenic shrugged. "Something like that. Now come on: I'm buying you an entire pizza for you to eat yourself. And ice cream. And pie."
Dean's eyes grew comically wide. "What about Sammy?"
"Sam can have his own too."
=spndrkangel=
Alec draped himself against the pool cue, like a fourth of July flag with no wind. A goofy grin splashed across his face and dripped into a row of empty bottles.
"Nice shot!" he compliments his opponent, and receives an ecstatic gap toothed smile in response.
"Hey you nearly done here?" One of the other bar patrons, a burly man wearing leathers, stomped over. "My friend and I want to use the table some time tonight."
Alec grinned sheepishly, fumbling with the cue as he straightened. "Sorry, I'm just trying to teach my kid brother how to play." He waved at the smaller boy holding a stick twice his height partially hidden behind him. "Say," he slurred as another leather clad man joined the first, "do you guys want to play a game with us? Come on it will be fun! I promise we'll clear off afterwards."
Readily the two men agreed and each picked up a cue. Half an hour later team Winchester was losing badly, though not as badly as they could have been if not for Alec's skill. The two bikers felt victory assured as the smallest player liked up a particularly difficult shot.
"Kid's never going to make that," the first man scoffed.
"Don't listen to him bro, you can do it!"
The man snorted loudly and Alec scowled drunkenly at him. "Don't go dissing my bro. He'll totally wipe that smirk off your face."
"Care to put your money where your mouth is?"
"How much?" Alec started digging in his pocket while the man thought up a number. Dean's cue scraped against the green velvet as he tried to lift the cue.
The man smirked. "Five hundred bucks." He pulled a wad of twenties from his pockets. Alec nodded and matched his bet.
Turning the transgenic met his 'little brother's' eyes. He winked.
Dean tried to hold back his smile as he sunk the shot.
"And that," Alec said several hours later, his pockets bulging, "Is the proper way to make money when one is unemployed."
Dean rolled his new watch over his hands, nice despite being too bid for both his wrists put together. He nodded at his uncle's words, eager to learn.
Alec slid into the Impala's driver seat while Dean walked around to the passenger side. "So tomorrow we'll go to Wellspring, that's the next town over, and I'll teach you how to play poker." He fixed a hazel eye on his charge. "Now what have we learned about hustling today?"
"Always let your target pick the bet, and braggers always are too proud to not try to prove you wrong," came the succinct reply.
Alec ruffled the boy's hair. "Good! Now let's go get Sammy from school."
=spndrkangel=
They stayed in Missouri till the beginning of summer, with Dean, curiously sitting through sixth grade (never having been in the same class for that long before) and Sammy causing Alec headaches whenever his teachers called the older man in to discus 'special' placement for his 'bright nephew'.
The transgenic decided that he hated parent teacher meetings. At least the ones with Dean's teachers were more interesting (usually them complaining how the young boy managed to acquire all his classmate's allowances on a weekly basis).
Alec used the months to develop his 'researching' skills (after Singer flat out refused to spoon feed him cases any more). He still couldn't work a computer past opening a search bar, but managed to find and put down a handful of hauntings and what turned out to be a possessed tree all by himself.
But alas, all good things must come to an end.
After determining that all supernatural activity within a three days drive of their little Missouri town was put down, Alec decided that it was time to move to greener hunting grounds.
A CEO in Florida went missing, and his body was found seven miles away with its feet worn out from walking. Alec hadn't dealt with witches before, and thought it was time to expand his repertoire to curses.
Sammy cried while saying goodbye to Joshua, but Alec made sure that the dog had a good home with an old couple he saved, so he tried not to let it get to him.
Dean just watched their home for the last few months vanish out the window.
"You ok?" Alec asked, trying to drown out the quiet sniffing of Sammy in the back. The older boy looked at him, unblinkingly.
"Are we going to stay this long in the next place?" he asked.
Alec shrugged. "If I can find a hunt."
Dean nodded in acceptance (a gesture Alec had begun to associate with Dean comparing his 'uncle' to his father). "Ok. It was nice, though."
The knife of guilt dug a little deeper and twisted.
=spndrkangel=
It took a surprisingly short time for Alec to set up a base and make sure his charges were settled in. He resigned himself to letting these activities become habit, and tried not to think about how many more times he would need to repeat the process before the kids were old enough to take care of themselves.
There were fruit trees behind the small apartment, and Alec spent the afternoon after they were done unpacking showing the boys all the edible plants. All were still in bloom and not ready to bare fruit, but Sammy delighted in imagining what the exotic treats would taste like once they were ripe and ready to be harvested.
Alec kept his answers on how long they were staying deliberately vague so those sparkling eyes wouldn't dim just yet.
Luckily it was now summer vacation so he didn't need to worry about signing the boys up for school till the fall. Thank goodness for small favors.
The next morning, after setting the boys up with money and instructions for the day, Alec picked up a fake reported ID and walked to the scene of the strange crime.
Office big shot walks himself to death, sounded like witch craft and curses. So if a witch was out to get revenge on a man, the witch must know him personally. What better place was there to create a grudge than against your boss at work?
He waltzed up to the sprawling building, taking a moment to survey the reflective glass windows towering seven floors above his head. The receptionist inside, a man with sandy blonde hair and a name tag that said 'Arnie Smythe' snapped his pink bubblegum at Alec.
"Newspaper hu? Ol' Young never was this popular before his little breakdown."
"Oh?" Alec said pleasantly.
"Yep," the man grinned wickedly. "No one in the office liked him, he liked to fire floor staff if his coffee was cold. I'm just glad I run coffee for the other side of the building."
"What a jerk!" Alec agreed. "Who did he fire recently?"
The receptionist tapped his cheek thoughtfully. "I can't name names off the top of my head, but if you need it for your article I can print something up."
"That would be great! I could turn it into a character piece on the morality of office life."
Arnie chuckled as his fingers flew across the keyboard. "Sounds fun."
"Think I could stop by later to chat some more?" Alec asked as he gratefully too the printout handed to him. "You know to double check my facts."
The secretary shrugged. "Sure, doesn't bother me at all."
With a wave he departed the building.
=spndrkangel=
"So, what can you tell me about the incident involving Mr. Young?" Alec asked, pen poised over his imaginary reporter's notepad.
The woman he was interviewing (second from the bottom on the list) rubbed her hands together distractedly. "Well, and I'm sure I'm not the first to tell you this, but that man had it coming."
"You're not," Alec assured. "Many of your former colleagues share your sentiments."
Mrs. Hubbly sniffed. "He was an ass. Never struck me as the kind to have a nervous breakdown, but neither did that guy at the coffee shop, so I guess you just never know."
Alec's scribblings slowed. "Coffee shop?"
"Oh, that's right you're not from around here. Yes, the man who owned the coffee shop on Main Street claimed that green eyes monsters were chasing him. Next thing anyone knows he's catatonic in the hospital."
"Wow, that's crazy. Can you tell me anything else about it?"
She shrugged. "I was never a coffee runner, so I never went there."
Alec gave his most charming smile. "Well thank you ma'am, you've been really helpful!"
One quick stroll later, and Alec was talking with the new manager of 'Brew Lala', sipping on a vanilla latte.
"Mr. Johnson?" the young man asked. "Yeah, he was a real jerk. Always commenting on how nice everyone's things were compared to his own. It wasn't even like he couldn't afford that kind of stuff either, he was just too cheep to do it."
"And you say he started hallucinating?"
"Yep," he huffed. "You know, like what parents tell kids 'bout the 'Green Eyed Monster'. We all thought it was funny, until he apparently scared himself to death. His son owns the place now, so at least I still have a job."
Alec made a note on his paper. "This is going to sound random, but do you think this incident has anything to do with the 'nervous breakdown' of a Mr. Young? For example, were he and Mr. Johnson friends?"
The manager rubbed his chin. "Friends? No, but that guy's secretary always brought his a double espresso every morning. Nice guy, but he'll rot his teeth out one of these days."
"Hm. Thanks, you've been really helpful. I'll be sure to quote you if I use this in my article."
Folding up his legal pad, Alec shakes the man's hand and returns to the motel, brain itching as he went.
=spndrkangel=
Muffled mewling, like a kitten in a cardboard box, pulled Alec out of his subconscious' delectable image of the various uses for chocolate syrup. Rough fabric scraped against his cheek as he listened, wondering if it was just the creaky building making noises in the night or something more sinister.
The cry stifled itself again, and Alec looked over to the twin lumps one bed over.
"Dean?" he whispered. The whimpering stopped, as though a fist had been clamped down tightly over tiny lips. Alec sat up, wincing at the loud creak of springs. "Hey, you ok kiddo?"
"Sorry sir," the pre-teen's quiet voice said at last. "I didn't want to wake Sammy up."
Alec ran a hand over his eyes, not bothering to turn on the light. "Do you want to come over here and talk about it?"
The silence lasted long enough that Alec thought Dean had fallen back asleep, but the other mattress creaked and soft feet fell on the threadbare carpet. Wearing a too big t-shirt that reached his knees, the eldest Winchester boy cautiously settled himself on the edge Alec's bed. The kids arms twisted around his body in what might have been an attempt to keep himself warm, if the creeping heat of summer didn't fill the room.
"Want to talk about it?" Alec offered again, tempted to lay a hand on his mini-maker's shoulder. Dean shook his head (he would need a haircut soon the older man noted). "Ok." They sat in silence.
"Do," Dean's voice cracked, "do you remember what my mom was like?" The question was like a whispered prayer.
Alec thought fast. The file at Manticore remained disturbingly vague about the Winchester matron, only including a yellowing photo obviously taken from some school records. "We were cousins," he fell back on his cover story, "but we weren't very close."
"Oh." The syllable made the transgenic's heart throb.
"She was very beautiful," he shot out. "Mary had the prettiest blond hair I've ever seen. She had these laugh lines around her eyes, because she smiled so much, but you could tell she was also tough."
He could feel Dean's eyes on him as he held that picture of the young Mary Winchester firmly in his mind, trying to glean as much information as possible from the image. The boy shifted on the bed, leaning in closer, as if each word was a balm against a burning wound.
"I know she loved her family very much. I know she loved you very much." After all, what mother didn't? This might have been the wrong thing to say, because salty tears began to fall down the boy's already wet face.
Alec moved to wrap an arm around his thin shoulders. The boy stiffened, and for a moment he thought he had done the wrong thing again. Strong thin fingers wrapped themselves into his shirt, banishing such doubt.
"She," Dean gasped, "she used to say that angels were watching over me."
Alec rubbed small circles on his back, the way he remembered seeing a mother do once.
"Then the f-fire ha-happened and-," tremors wracked the little body in Alec's arms and he tightened the hug reflexively.
"Is that what woke you up?" he asked softly. "Remembering?"
A nod pressed itself into his ribs. "Sammy was only a baby and Dad told me to run and take him outside. I can he-hear her screaming in my head, even though Dad said she was d-dead before the fire. The smoke's in my eyes, but I can still-I can still see it get her. Then it gets D-dad. Then it starts to reach for S-sammy, and I can't- I can't- s-stop it." The rest of the sentence vanished into silent sobs, and Alec feels completely out of his depth.
"Shh, there there," he tries. "Look, Sammy's ok. He's over there sleeping. I won't let anything get you guys."
A tear streaked face turned to him. "B-but it got Dad. Dad was-" the boy's breath hitched.
Alec held him close. "Your father didn't have anyone watching his back and got caught by surprise. He didn't have a unit to hunt with."
"Weren't you there with him?"
Damn. "I was a step behind. He left me behind and by the time I caught up, the thing had already gotten him." The shaking intensified. "He got the monster though. Went down like a true soldier."
Dean clung to his 'uncle's' chest. "You go out alone."
"I'm just taking easy assignments until you can come help me with the hard ones when you're older."
"Oh." Darkness pressed against the pair, lukewarm air billowing through the window. Alec dozed against the headboard of the bed, still holding his charge.
"I won't let anything happen to you," the childish promise whispered.
Alec smiled. "Me neither kid."
=spndrkangel=
Alec sighed as he fished in his pocket for the hotel keys. Another day and he was no closer to solving this case that when he started. In fact he was even further away.
Two more cases like the 'Green Eyed Monster' and the compulsive road walking had turned up in his interviewing. A dry cleaner with a tendency to stealing cloths gets his wardrobe eaten out by moths, and a mailman with a penchant for stealing checks out of the mail ends up trapped in a blue mail box on the corner.
Alec couldn't find any connecting feature between the cases, other than the fact that all the locations were frequented by employes of Mr. Young's company.
The lock to the room clicked and he pushed the door open with a shoulder.
"I'm back," he called, stepping neatly over the salt line on the floor.
There was no reply. The hairs on the back of Alec's neck stood up.
"Dean? Sammy?" In two steps he passed the counter (no note) and beds (shotgun barrel still poking out under the mattress) and opened the bathroom door (sink was dry, they've been gone for a few hours at least).
Adrenalin spiked through his blood, sharpening his focus as he combed the room. Salt lines were in place still, so it couldn't be a spirit. Unless a human knew to step over them they wold have been broken by someone carelessly walking through the door, so Alec lessened his suspicion of a human kidnapper, though he did not dismiss the possibility.
It was times like these he wished his cocktail included some kind of (gag- dare he say it?) tracking dog. Joshua (the transgenic, not the dog left behind in Missouri) would have been able to find the kids even if they were across town.
Alec traced his fingers over the door frame, and paused over one of the delicately scratched protective symbols. It was an obscure Indian symbol from the worshipers of Kali, meant to ward off and reveal trickery and disguises. It was currently scratched out, as though something had forced the circle past its breaking point.
Alec had found it in a book of mythology next to a little believed story of Kali taking a lover, some kind of raksha of mischief. After some kind of falling out, so the tale went, she banished him from her home with this symbol.
Alec had added it after that tangle with the trickster god in the forest. Looks like it paid off.
"Got you," he snarled.
Looks like Coyote wasn't as dead as Alec would have liked. No matter; that was easily amendable.
=spndrkangel=
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So Only one more chapter to go I think. Unless I think up more fluff to throw in.
It feels so good right now to end this on a cliff hanger, because I can just imagine the looks on all your (my dear reader's) faces.
:)
but fear not, the end is nigh
=spndrkangel=
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