Yay, another chapter! I really enjoyed writing this one; a little intrigue and mystery, mostly Dean stuff with some angst and trust issues.
Enjoy!
No one slept easily that night. Niamh was nervous, as was her housemate (even he wasn't sure he'd done the right thing by letting two potentially dangerous street kids into his house). Sam was up every hour or so having to cough to clear his throat so he could breathe. Dean stayed up most of the night with him, calming his brother down when the boy thought he couldn't breathe, letting him fall back to sleep on his shoulder. He was too worried to sleep anyway. His mind was a whirlwind, the thoughts just screaming around his head.
He kept agonizing over his decision to let Novak help Sam. He still had no idea about what he wanted, what he might ask for in return for caring for Sam. Niamh looked nice enough; gentle, sweet, good with Sammy. He was good with figuring people out – it didn't take long for Dean to realise whether someone was an enemy or a friend – but in this situation he had no idea, and it was killing him.
When morning's light came, Dean was still awake, having only snatched a few minutes here and there between Sam's bouts of coughing. At six-thirty, Niamh came down the stairs, watching the pair carefully. She walked over, sitting down on the floor a few paces away from the boys – out of reach, Dean noted. Of course she wouldn't trust him. He would have thought her crazy if she did.
They were silent, Dean and Niamh staring at each other as the sun rose higher and splashed more, brightening light into the room. They switched from staring at each other to Sam, each breaking off their unblinking gaze every so often to see how the sleeping boy was doing. He hadn't stirred yet. Dean couldn't hold back the smile as Sam rolled over, murmuring softly to himself. The sunlight hit his face, lighting it up. His messy, dirty hair still managed a shine after a week of neglect, and he had a calm expression of peace upon his face, childish innocence.
Dean glanced over as he caught Niamh smiling too. Their eyes met, their smiles freezing on their faces, before the woman ducked her head with a small laugh.
"He's your brother, right?" she asked, looking up again a moment later.
The teenager nodded. Niamh sighed as she swapped her gaze between the boys, "You really care about him. How old is he?"
Dean spoke quietly to avoid waking the subject of their conversation. "Eleven."
Niamh frowned, but Dean didn't have to see it to know she was confused. Everyone was when they found out how old he was. He looked maybe a year younger, although taller than the average eleven-year-old. It was the way he acted that puzzled people. Eleven year olds didn't act like Sam did.
"Is it autism?"
Dean nearly fell off the couch with surprise as Niamh spoke just as quietly as he had. The words sent a bolt of shock through him. Now he was the one confused.
Niamh caught the look on his face and explained, "My nephew has it. He's a lot like Sam."
He'd never met anyone who knew someone with autism. Never even thought he would. He knew it wasn't such a huge deal; heaps of people had it, but it hit him with emotion all the same.
Did she have to look after her nephew the way he looked after Sam? Did she have to calm his stubborn tantrums? Did she have to cater to his routine, which made him feel safe? Did she have to put up with all his annoying questions, his tendency to say something random at inappropriate times?
Dean doubted it – after all, she was only his aunt- but it made him smile to think so. Made him happier to think that he wasn't the only one fighting the battle.
"His name's Harry. He's eight," Niamh said, looking at the ground and smiling as she recalled memories of her nephew "He's amazing, but..."
She trailed off, almost afraid to continue. She looked up at Dean, and he nodded. He understood.
"Yeah. Sam's like that."
As if at the sound of his name, Sam mumbled and blinked his eyes open sleepily. He smiled as he saw Dean and sat up, hugging him.
"Morning, Sam," Dean smiled.
"Morning."
Sam looked over to see Niamh, and frowned, "I don't remember you."
"I'm Niamh," she started, but stopped when Sam's eyes lit up in recognition.
"You're the lady with the funny name. I remember you now."
Niamh laughed, and Dean even cracked a smile at that. It was always Sam that made people laugh, for one reason or another.
"You boys hungry?" Niamh asked as she pulled herself up off the floor, her fear seemingly vanished. Sam grinned.
"Lucky Charms!" he said excitedly, and Dean glanced at the older woman. Their eyes met with knowing, and Niamh walked over to Sam and knelt down in front of him.
"Well, Sam, I've actually got something that's better than Lucky Charms. You wanna try some?"
Sam looked sceptical and he glanced at Dean. The elder brother nodded, trying not to look too excited himself. If Sam ate something other than Lucky Charms for once, it would be a miracle.
"You'll love them, trust me," Niamh said as she stood up and held out her hand. Sam looked at it for a moment before hesitantly taking it and getting up off the couch, the battered Dino held tightly in his free hand. Dean followed as the redhead took Sam into the kitchen.
/\/\
Bobby sighed as he stared at the phone. He'd tried calling Dean too many times to count over the past week, and each time the kid had ignored the calls. John was calling him every day to ask if the boys had contacted him, and he had to say no. With every phone call, Bobby could hear the desperation growing in his voice, the sound of fear and shock behind his words. It was starting to dawn on him – or at least, he hoped so. If it wasn't, the man was thick-headed and didn't deserve the love he got from his boys.
An idea occurred to him, and without hesitation he picked up the phone and started dialling. Two rings later, his call was answered.
"Hello?" a female voice said.
"It's me, Bobby. I need a little help..."
/\/\
What had he done? How could he have let them get away like that? His own kids?
He'd checked into a three-bed motel room out of habit. And now, staring at the two beds that normally would have held his two kids, John was getting desperate. He didn't want to lose them. He'd already lost so much, and so had they. The family had lost everything, gained only knowledge and a job they didn't want.
John knew he and his boys didn't deserve it. The loss of Mary, their home, their life as a whole – none of them deserved to have lost them all. He also knew that Dean didn't deserve the crap he'd put on him. He'd made Dean care for Sam because he couldn't do it himself. From the moment Sam had changed, from the moment they knew what was wrong, Dean had been the one in charge. He was only six at the time but damn, he was a fantastic kid. He'd done everything for Sam, and he, John, had done nothing for his boys.
And he hated himself for it.
Was that was Dean had meant about changing? To understand just what he'd done? He hoped so, because he wanted his kids back. He wanted them home, he wanted them safe. He wanted everything to be okay.
/\/\
"Sorry Bobby, nothing came up. I'll keep trying, and if I catch anything I'll call you."
"Thanks."
It'd been worth a shot.
/\/\
"You got him to eat cornflakes," Dean said in shock as Sam finished up the bowl of cereal with a grin.
Niamh shrugged, smiling as she took the bowl away and put it in the sink, "I did the same thing I do with Harry."
"But... I've been trying to get him to do that forever. He never listens to me."
"Maybe you just needed someone new to teach him."
They fell into silence for a moment, until Sam broke it by coughing. The harsh hacking fit lasted a full minute, and by the end of it Sam could barely breathe. Dean was patting him on the back, looking at Niamh worriedly. Sam was getting worse.
At that moment, there were the clunking steps of someone descending the stairs. Jimmy appeared in the doorway, pulling a jacket on as he smiled at Sam. The kid looked at him curiously, as if trying to remember where he'd seen the guy before. He slipped his hand into Dean's, and his brother tightened his fingers around it protectively.
"I'll head out to the drug store and see what I can get for him," Jimmy said, glancing at Niamh.
Dean saw the unspoken question Jimmy was asking his friend. Was she okay with staying home with the two potentially dangerous street kids? Was she okay with putting her life in possible danger? The only thing Jimmy didn't know was that Niamh knew more about the kids than he did. The woman nodded, and there was not even a hint of fear in her at all.
Jimmy nodded in return and with one last look between her and the brothers, he walked for the door. The sound of it closing behind him was a final, thick thud.
There was only a moment of silence before Niamh turned to the boys and gave them an assessing look with a critical eye.
"You need to be cleaned up," she said, nodding as if agreeing with herself.
Dean glanced at Sam, then down at himself. It was true – they were filthy. Sam was covered with grime and dirt, and god knew what else. His clothes were tattered, torn, and just as disgusting. Sam's hair was so thick with dirt and grit that it probably weighed a ton, and hung in front of his eyes like greasy, drying concrete. Dean knew he wasn't looking much better.
He instantly thought of their bags, still hidden beneath a dumpster back in the alley. It held everything they owned, everything they'd salvaged before running. He mentioned it to Niamh quietly, and the woman smiled.
"Great. Why don't you go get them? At least then you can have some clean clothes."
Dean was nodding before he even realised. When he did, he glanced guiltily at Sam, who was oblivious to the turmoil now tumbling inside his brother.
He'd just agreed to something a stranger had told him to do, without even pausing to think of Sam. He never forgot to think of Sam – Sam was the centre of every decision he made. Niamh seemed to notice, and the tension in the room went up by such a degree it seemed the room's temperature had shot up suddenly.
"I'm not going to do anything to him," the woman said quietly "I know you're protective of him. I know that you have to be, because if you're not than not many others will be. And I know that what I'm saying isn't going to make you change your mind, because it wouldn't change mine if I were in your position. I just hope you understand that I'm not out to hurt anyone."
Dean swallowed. This was a chance to test his trust of these people. To see if they were really who they said they were. But it was such a huge chance, one that could so easily backfire in a million different ways.
He could always take Sam, but then he would lose everything he had with Niamh and Jimmy. Not that he had much, but he did have their slowly-growing trust that he wasn't a danger to them. Now he knew he had to return the favour. He had to show them that he trusted them, at least a little.
"I'll... I'll go get them."
Even as he said the words, he hated himself. He knew he was doing it for Sam, but every fibre of his being was screaming at him not to leave Sam alone with a stranger. After years and years of listening to his instincts, now he was pushing them aside. It was strange feeling, a painful feeling, but a necessary one.
He raced out the door as quickly as he could. The sooner he could collect the bags the quicker he could be back with Sam. He ran to the alley a few streets away and ducked into it, sliding his hand under the dumpster to pull the two duffel bags out. With the light bags clutched in his hands, he started back, panting. He had to trust her, he had no choice.
As he ran, he wondered why he'd so readily agreed to Niamh's suggestions, without even a second thought. Without thinking at all. He couldn't understand why she'd had that effect on him, why he'd been so willing. He wasn't sure why he was so okay with her being with Sam, alone. Without him to protect his brother from any possible danger. He didn't leave Sam alone with anyone, except his Dad. And even then...
He shook his head. No. He wasn't going to think about his father. The son of a bitch had done something almost unforgivable. He wasn't going to let the man have even an inch of space within his head.
It suddenly occurred to Dean that Niamh reminded him of someone. He couldn't quite put his finger on who it was, but he was sure the answer was somewhere within his mind. He just had to think a little harder.
When he arrived back he raced inside and instantly looked around for Sam, panicking when he couldn't see him. He dropped the bags by the door, hesitant to call his brother's name for fear of sounding too desperate. He had to prove his trust, as well as his nature.
Niamh was walking down the stairs when she saw Dean by the door, the panic barely hidden on his face. She smiled hesitantly.
"He's upstairs. Bathroom."
Dean rushed past her, running for the sounds of Sam he could hear when he reached the second floor. Looking inside the bathroom, he relaxed when he saw Sam in the bath, rubbing dirt from his face. The kid looked up at him, head slightly tilted, a smile gracing his lips.
"Hey Sammy," Dean said with a relieved smile as he sat down on the ground beside the broken Dino waiting for its owner on the floor. Dean leaned against the wall of the bathtub to stabilise himself.
"Hey Dean."
"You okay?"
Sam nodded, continuing to scrub the filth from his body. Dean smiled again and stood up, walking for the door.
"I'm gonna bring your bag up, okay? You can get dressed when you're done."
Sam nodded again and Dean walked out, shutting the door quietly behind him and breathing a sigh of relief.
So far, things were going okay.
Okay. I'm not American, so I don't know if you call it a drug store, or a pharmacy, or whatever. I just wikipedia'd it. Cause Wiki is God XD If I sound stupid, it's cause I'm a proud Aussie and I don't know anything about America. If only Supernatural was set in Australia... now that would be AWESOME. Even just one episode...
Please review!
