Notes: This chapter is where this fic really earns its T rating, and made me consider upping it to M. Content/trigger warnings for physical abuse, violence and child abuse. Feel free to skip if you're uncomfortable reading something of that nature.


Chapter Two: Scraps

The mouth-watering smell of soup filled the old barn that passed as a house, spilling out of the small kitchen. Oscar's shoe caught on the scuffed floorboards and he stumbled slightly. He righted himself before his aunt noticed.

"Oscar, lay the table." She had her back to him, ladling the soup into three chipped wooden bowls. The sleeves of her light brown shirt were rolled up to stop the orange splashes leaving stains on it. Opening the kitchen cabinet, Oscar pulled out a few metal spoons and placed the most warped one in front of his seat.

"So... Uncle Dean's eating with us today?" He asked.

"Yeah, I am." A deep voice spoke from the doorway. A tall, heavily set man stood there, dressed in a well-worn leather jacket and mud-spotted trousers.

Oscar spun to face him. "I didn't realise you were back already."

"Head in a book as usual, eh kid?" Dean said, sounding slightly amused. He stepped forward and held Oscar's shoulder tightly. Oscar straightened up. Dean relaxed his grip a little, and the corner of his mouth twisted up in a barely hidden smile. "Don't zone out over dinner." He said, giving Oscar a pat on the shoulder before pushing past him to get to the table. "It smells amazing Carol."

"Thank you!" Her cheeks coloured. "I hope I didn't put too much salt in." She placed a bowl gently down in front of him, making sure none split. Oscar sat down.

"So," Oscar said, "where was your mission this time?" A note of eagerness slipped into his voice.

"Havashi. Y' know, the little village with the orchard. They had some kind of sickness going round, which brought bad tempers. You can guess what happened next."

"Grimm." Carol frowned.

"Yeah. Not too bad though, only a small pack of beowulf. Nothing I couldn't handle." Dean said, dipping his spoon into his soup.

"I'm just glad you're back safe." Carol said. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

There was a drawn-out moment of silence in which Oscar stared at the table and hoped that someone else would start talking. Silence was risky. There was too much time to think. Should I tell them? He asked himself for the thousandth time, picking at the skin on his wrist with broken nails. I know only I can hear the voice, but maybe there's some way to prove it's really there? Maybe...? He sighed. Maybe I am crazy.

"Oscar, are you alright?" Carol said, leaning across the table to place a hand on her nephew's arm.

"What's wrong with you?" Dean said, eyes narrowed. "You look like a kicked puppy."

Carol sat back in her seat, tucking both hands into her lap.

"It doesn't matter, it's probably nothing." Oscar said, shaking his head a little.

"I know that face, it's not nothing." Dean said, gripping Oscar's arm. His voice had hardened.

Great job Oscar, you colossal screw up. Oscar thought to himself. Why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut?

"Hey, answer me." Dean's voice was dangerously low, and he jutted out his chin on each word.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything." Oscar tried to pull away, glancing at his aunt for help. She looked away.

"Tell me, Oscar." Dean leaned forward, pulling Oscar's arm towards him so they were face to face. His eyes drilled into Oscar's head.

"It was nothing, it was nothing!" Oscar spluttered. He couldn't say it, but what else could he say?

"I was just thinking that maybe..." He trailed off, trying to think.

"Spit it out, kid." Dean didn't break eye contact, slowly twisting Oscar's arm into a more and more painful position.

"I want to go to Haven!" Oscar blurted out, stammering slightly.

"Why?" Dean growled, his teeth gritted.

"I want to train to be a huntsman." Oscar said, shaking like a leaf. "Like you." He finished in a small voice, looking down at the scratched surface of the table.

Dean slammed his fist on the table, missing Oscar's trapped arm by a fraction. "And why in hell do you think you can do that?" Dean yelled, so close to Oscar's face that he could feel the man's hot breath on his cheek. Oscar turned his face away, closing his eyes tightly. He regretted speaking at all.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Dean shouted, grabbing Oscar's head and pulling it round to face him. Oscar opened his eyes quickly.

"I thought I could..." Oscar tried, cut off by a glare from Dean.

"You thought nothing." He said, Oscar's hair twisted in his fist. "Do you want to know the only way you could possibly be useful, Oscar? Do you?"

Oscar only stared, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He yelped in pain as Dean tightened his grip on the side of his face.

"I'm sorry!" Oscar pleaded, trying to pull away. His flailing arm knocked into his bowl of soup and sent it spinning off the table. It landed on the floor between Carol and Dean, spattering both their shoes. Carol winced.

"You little brat!" Dean punched Oscar hard in the jaw. Oscar's head snapped back and he tasted blood. He brought his free hand up to protect his face, staring wide-eyed up at Dean.

"I didn't mean to-" He stammered, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"Oscar, you're not going to win this." The voice was back.

Oh gods, thought Oscar, not now, please not now.

"You are in danger. I can help you." The voice insisted. He sounded worried.

"I can't trust you." Oscar whispered, tears welling up in his eyes.

With an angry snarl, Dean shoved Oscar to the floor. He landed hard, grazing his elbow. Carol backed into the corner and turned her head away. Oscar couldn't blame her. This mess was his fault, not hers. Dean towered over him, expression dark and Oscar raised both hands in defeat.

"You don't talk back to me!" Dean shouted, fists raised.

"I'm sorry!" Oscar cried out, curling up in pain as Dean kicked him in the side.

"Let me help you, Oscar." The voice grew increasing urgent.

Oscar struggled, thinking bitterly that if he wasn't going crazy he wouldn't have annoyed Dean so much.

"I gave you everything!" Dean yelled, grabbing Oscar by the shoulders and heaving him up. "You would be dead in some desolate village if I hadn't saved your worthless life!" He bared his teeth, face red. Oscar closed his eyes and tried to turn his head away.

"Look at me!" Dean roared, shoving him against the wall. He opened his eyes, little spots flickering in the corner of his vision.

"Oscar!" The voice insisted.

Tears ruched silently down Oscar's cheeks.

"You're pathetic." Dean growled. "I do so much for you, and this is how you repay me?" He shook Oscar hard, making his head knock painfully against the wall.

"Oscar. Give me control." The voice was firm and cold.

"No!" He said, head raised. I can't afford to lose it now. He thought. Not here.

His defiance was short lived.

"What did you just say to me?" Dean said, grabbing Oscar's neck and lifting him up so his feet were barely touching the ground.

"I-" Oscar was cut off as Dean squeezed tighter. He struggled for breath. His gloved hands clawed at Dean's fingers, fighting for air. Eyes watering, he looked to his aunt for help. She was gone.

"Answer me!" Dean slammed him against the wall. His ears rang. The back of his head felt wet and he registered numbly that the trickle down the back of his neck was his own blood.

"Oscar! He's going to kill you!" The voice echoed in Oscar's oxygen starved brain. "Give me control!"

No, he wouldn't... Oscar thought. It was getting hard to focus. Dean wouldn't kill me. He saved my life. But I can't trust you. He hoped the voice could hear him. Weakly, he tried to pry Dean's fists away from his throat.

He could hear a deep male voice shouting but he couldn't even tell if it was real. Oscar's vision faded, and he slipped into darkness.


Notes: Thank you for reading. Please review, all feedback is welcome.

I wrote this chapter because I wanted to give Oscar a stronger incentive to leave everything he knows behind and go to Haven than the (slightly flimsy) explanation we get in canon. Also, I feel like this gives Oscar's character and personality logical reasoning – he's quiet and humble, yet dreams of glory and escape. He's awkward and distrusting around strangers (especially Qrow and Hazel), but still compassionate and empathetic – he knows the value of kindness.