A/N and Disclaimer: Thanks so much to everyone who has helped me reach that magic figure of 100 reviews - my life is now complete... Although it would be more complete if I owned Sam and Dean. Which I still don't. Boo.
After another brief tussle with the Document Manager, here's the next chapter, as I think you all deserve a quick update for all your hard work.
Chapter Eight
For one brief second, Dean flinched, actually thinking Ian was going to hit him.
But he didn't. He merely reacquainted his hand with Dean's upper arm, squeezing where the boy was already bruised from their previous encounter by the shed, and dragging him out into the shop doorway, Sam on his heels like a frightened puppy.
Eyes flashing angrily, Ian roughly yanked Dean around until they were facing each other, bending down slightly towards him, but not enough to sacrifice the height advantage and give the kid any illusions as to who was in charge here. "I asked you a question, Danny – " he spat, before realising his error. He faltered, his face blanching visibly, and his eyes studiously avoiding Dean's. " – Dean," he corrected quickly, still not looking at him.
Huh.
In a brief flash of insight, Dean suddenly realised that the two 'other' boys the scary-voiced guy in the Mercedes had mentioned had to be the two boys in the photograph in Ian's kitchen: Daniel and Jamie.
Filing that information away for possible future use, Dean just continued to look up at Ian placidly, an innocent expression on his face that really didn't look right on him.
Ian obviously thought the same, shaking him slightly as he gripped him by the arms and pulled him a step closer, looking deep into his eyes before asking again, "Where were you going, Dean?"
Dean's expression remained completely unfazed. "Sammy needed the bathroom," he lied smoothly.
Sometimes it bothered Sam just how smoothly Dean lied.
"Bathroom's that way," Ian pointed out, motioning behind Dean, back into the store.
Dean glanced back, equally unfazed by the unmissable restroom sign towards the rear of the children's wear section. "What can I tell you?" he said, returning his gaze to meet his Uncle's. "I have a lousy sense of direction."
"I knew this would happen," Ian hissed, gritting his teeth and shaking his head. "I just knew it."
He let go of Dean abruptly, pushing him back a little harder than he'd intended, the boy's hand groping for his brother's the second he was released.
Ian's face had rapidly turned from white to scarlet. "Do you know how dangerous a place like this can be for little kids?" he demanded, hands on his hips just like the cop Sam remembered from one of those school 'stranger danger' talks.
"What, like getting fried hair in your burger dangerous?" Dean asked innocently.
The look Ian gave him then suggested that the man would have liked nothing better than to wipe that innocent expression off Dean's face with a well-placed slap.
Please don't make him angry, Dean! Sam willed his brother silently, gripping his hand a lot tighter than was strictly necessary. The slightest glance in his direction told him Dean got the message, his older brother choking down the next retort he'd been planning to use to antagonise their Uncle.
Ian took a deep breath, wiping an exasperated hand across his forehead before continuing, "Do you know how many weirdos hang out in places like this just looking for some kid on their own to take away and – "
"We weren't on our own," Dean pointed out calmly, as Sammy flashed him another pleading look. "We were with each other."
Ian took another deep breath. This smart-aleck kid would test the patience of a saint. "Okay," he said, as calmly as he was able. "I get it, Dean. This is about last night. Sam's nightmare. And this morning. The car…"
"My Dad's car."
"That I don't have!" Ian threw up his hands, before raking them through his hair. "Dean, you could have gotten Sam hurt!" he remonstrated. "Don't you get that?"
Dean raised his chin defensively. "I'd never – "
"Which is why I can't allow this to continue." He made a grab for Sam's hand then, the one still clinging to his big brother's.
But Dean was too quick for him, pulling Sam away and stepping back in one fluid movement that seemed so well executed that it was almost as if he'd been training for this moment his whole life. "Don't even," he warned, tightening his grip on his brother, and meeting Ian's gaze with an icily unblinking stare. "I mean it."
Ian straightened, suddenly intimidated by the feral look in Dean's eye and the determined expression on his young face. Sam had grabbed hold of his brother's arm for good measure, like a drowning man clinging to a life raft, and the two of them just stood there looking up at him, as if daring him to try and come between them.
He ran a hand over his chin, looking away, around the mall, at his feet, anywhere but at the two boys in front of him.
Finally, he turned back, and Dean would have sworn there was an almost apologetic look on his face. "Alright," he said softly, nodding. "If that's the way it has to be…" He trailed off, closing his eyes and shaking his head, before turning his attention to Sam. "Sam," he said, voice still soft and unthreatening. "I need to speak to your brother now. How about you go check out the clothes and – "
"He's not going anywhere without me," Dean replied, his voice every bit as soft as Ian's, but with an underlying tension that was pure steel. "Whatever you've got to say to me you can say in front of him."
Ian sighed, voice hardening slightly. "Sam, go and wait for me by the cash desk."
Sam looked uncertainly up at Dean, before casting a glance in the direction of the cash desk.
"I said no," Dean reiterated.
When Sam didn't move and Dean showed no sign of letting him go anywhere Ian continued, "Look, Dean, I just want to talk. I know you're scared, but we need to work this out – "
"Go right ahead, I'm not stopping you," Dean replied, eyes narrowed.
Ian glanced at Sam again, before finally nodding. "Alright," he surrendered, shoulders slumping slightly. "Look, Dean, I know that your Dad – your Dad's put things in your head – made you suspicious of people – made you think things are real when they're clearly not..."
"My Dad's not a liar," Dean insisted.
Ian inclined his head. "No," he agreed. "He's not. Because he thinks these things are real too. There was nothing sinister about the way your Mom died, Dean. It was a house fire. Nothing more. The wiring was shot – "
"That's not true," Dean shook his head vehemently. "I saw – "
"What did you see?" Ian interrupted. "Your Dad kept spouting these ridiculous stories about your Mom being – " he glanced around to make sure no-one was listening and lowered his voice. " – being on the ceiling. The ceiling, Dean! Things like that don't happen…"
"Yes they do!" Dean insisted. "Mom was – "
"Did you see her? On the ceiling?"
Dean faltered, Sam just staring up at him with inquisitive eyes, remembering all the times he'd begged his big brother to tell him what had happened that night.
Dean never would. Not really.
Dean glanced down at Sam before muttering, "I just saw…" before trailing off, unable to meet Ian's accusing gaze.
God, what if Ian was telling the truth? What if Dad had gotten it wrong? What if he'd – what if he'd lied?
No way. No way Dad would lie about something like that.
But still…
"You see?" Ian sounded almost triumphant. "I'm not criticising your father – Post-Traumatic Stress can do terrible things to a person, make them believe terrible things. I'm just saying that for you to put your little brother in harm's way because you believe I'm some kind of – of – " Ian groped for the word. " – of monster? That's very wrong, Dean. Surely you can see that? I admire you for wanting to protect Sam, I really do. And I know your Mom would have been really proud of you." Dean looked back up at him then. "So I want you to know I'm not mad at you. I know what you were trying to do. You were planning on taking off with your brother, right? That's why I let you guys alone. Just to see. Just to see if you'd try it."
Dean just continued to gaze up at him, no expression on his face.
Ian nodded, understanding. "I get it," he said. "But do you have any idea what might have happened to you? If you got on the wrong bus and ended up in the wrong neighbourhood? Got in a car with the wrong guy?"
Sam convulsively squeezed Dean's arm then, and for the first time, Dean was suddenly beset by self-doubt. What if he had imagined it all? What if he really had put Sammy in danger? How could he live with himself? How could he live with being a danger to Sam? Sam had been scared, he'd known that. He hadn't wanted to run off to Minnesota. But he would have done it. He would have done it because he'd do anything for Dean; he'd follow him to the ends of the Earth if he had to.
It was too much power. Dean had too much power over Sam. And that made him a danger to his kid brother. Him. Dean. A danger to Sam.
How the hell had he let that happen?
He bit his lip nervously, and this time didn't flinch when Ian put a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked him deep in the eye.
"Look," he said carefully. "We need to talk about this. I get the feeling your Dad doesn't really talk to you, doesn't really discuss this stuff. And I think you need some help with it. I really think you need some help, Dean. So. I'm going to take Sam over to the kids' play area – look, it's just down at the end of the mall…" he pointed to a bright red set of double doors way over in the distance with a multi-coloured day-glo sign hung above them. For some reason, Dean couldn't for the life of him figure out what the sign said. "…And then I'm going to come back and you and I are going to talk this through, man to man. Okay? And then the three of us are going to pick you guys out those new clothes. Alright?"
Dean could hear that Ian was talking, but the words all seemed to be running into each other, like a watercolour left out in the rain.
Sam looked up at his brother, who was just standing there, slightly open-mouthed, a glazed expression on his face and eyes that looked kind of out of focus.
"Dean?" Sam squeezed Dean's arm again. "Dean?"
Dean didn't even look down, just continued to stare at – or maybe through – Ian's chest. "Okay," he muttered distractedly, as if his voice was a thousand miles away.
Ian smiled, patting him on the shoulder. "Good boy," he said. "I knew you could be reasonable."
Sam frowned then, grip tightening on Dean's arm as Ian held out a hand towards him.
"Come on, Sam," he said. "Don't be scared. Dean and I just need to talk. Right, Dean?"
Sam didn't let go of his brother. Not for one second. "Dean?" he whispered, shaking his arm slightly. Still no response.
"Right, Dean?" Ian enunciated the words more clearly, raising his eyebrows at the older boy.
"Right," Dean said, sounding even more distant. "Right." Still not looking down, eyes not blinking, he added, "Sam, go with Ian," before letting go of the younger boy's hand.
But Sam didn't loosen his grip on Dean's arm. "Dean?" he said uncertainly, tugging at his wrist now to try and get his attention. "Dean!"
Dean's line of vision never wavered, still fixed on some point in the middle of Ian's chest.
Panic started to well in Sam's stomach. Something was wrong.
Something was very wrong.
Sam wasn't sure how he knew, but he just knew.
Something was wrong with Dean.
"Dean? Dean!" Sam moved in front of his brother, taking his other wrist and pulling. But Dean didn't even move, eyes still staring into the space above Sam's head.
"Come on, Sam," Ian repeated, reaching to take Sam's hand.
But Sam snatched it away, moving further behind his brother, who continued to just stand there, like some kind of freaky human statue.
This was all new to Sam. This Saving Dean stuff. It wasn't right. It wasn't natural. Dean didn't need saving. Dean never needed saving. And yet today… Sam wasn't sure he was up to it a second time.
"Dean, please listen," Sam whispered, clinging to his brother's shirt as he tried to keep him between himself and their Uncle. "Dean, can you even hear me?"
"Sam?" Ian said, voice hard. "Sam, come with me."
Sam shook his head violently. "No," he said, sounding every bit as stubborn and determined as his big brother. "I won't! What did you do to Dean?" His eyes flashed, and Ian just shrugged, shaking his head resignedly.
"Oh, Sam, not you too!" he burst out, snaking out a hand and this time succeeding in grabbing Sam's wrist. "Come on, Sam. Let's go for a walk."
"No!" Sam tried to pull away, tried to keep a hold of his brother, but Ian was a hell of a lot bigger than either of them. "No! Dean!" He felt his fingers slip on his brother's arm, trying to hang on as Ian pulled him away. "Dean?" he whispered, looking up into his brother's eyes and seeing only oblivious hazel. "Dean?" He wasn't there. Dean wasn't in there.
"Don't worry, Sam," Ian tried to reassure him. "It's going to be fine. I'm going to get Dean the help he needs," and this time, when he tugged at Sam's wrist, the fingers of the little boy's hand finally lost their grip on his brother's arm.
"Wait right here, Dean," Ian said firmly, pulling Sam further away from him.
"Yes sir," Dean replied mechanically, still staring off into space.
"That's my good little soldier."
Sam's eyes widened at that, fairly screaming at his brother, "Dean, he's not Dad! Dean!"
But Dean just stood there, still gazing off into the distance with dark unfocussed eyes.
"Dean?" Sam struggled as Ian tried to pull him away, failing miserably to dig his heels against the polished tile floor, but refusing to go quietly.
He'd done something to Dean. Dean would never have let this happen otherwise. He only took orders from Dad – only from Dad…
"Dean! Dean, please!" Sam was yelling now, reaching out a flailing hand towards his brother. But he was too far away, and he grasped only thin air. "No!" Sam directed his screams against Ian then, kicking at his shins and doing his damnedest to bite the hand holding on to his wrist. "Get off me!"
People were starting to look now, housewives with little kids in strollers, groups of giggling teens excitedly cutting class; a big burly security guard standing over by the fire exit.
That's who Sam needed.
"Sir!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Sir, this guy's trying to kidnap me!" It was such a Dean thing for Sam to say that he was certain it would work.
The security guard was moving towards them then, a look of concern on his thick-set features, just as Ian managed to wrestle Sam enough to pick him up like a slippery eel, wedging him against his hip with a strong arm wrapped around his waist, pinning his arms to his sides.
"Sir…?" the security guard said, his controlled amble scarcely disguising his sense of purpose.
Sam managed to land a kick to Ian's thigh just as the big man stopped in front of them, eyebrows raised in surprise.
Ian bit back a wince and smiled his best smile. "My nephew," he laughed, indicating Sam with a nod of the head. "Just hit the tantrum stage of the day! Mad 'cause I wouldn't spring for two-hundred and fifty dollar sneakers! Honestly, I don't know where they come up with these price tags!"
The guard nodded, face still deadly serious. "Can I see some ID sir?" he asked, hand resting rather obviously on the gun at his hip.
Ian smiled again, eyes briefly skimming the guard's holstered weapon as he fished in his pocket for his wallet with his free hand. "Of course," he said, managing to one-handedly pull out his drivers licence while Sam scowled at him like he was the Devil incarnate.
Which he very well might have been for all Sam knew.
The security guard gave Ian's licence the once over, before handing it back. "So this is your nephew, Mr Sherwood?" he said, looking at Sam pointedly.
Ian nodded. "My sister's boy. A real handful."
The security guard nodded again. "Um-hm," he said, attention still on Sam. "So son," he said. "You're not really being kidnapped, huh?"
Sam opened his mouth to scream, YES, YES, YES! at the guard, but before he could, Ian turned his head sideways, the words, "Dean could get hurt," suddenly whispered in the boy's ear.
Sam froze before the words had even left his mouth, looking over at the security guard to see if he had heard. But his face seemed as blank and impassive as Dean's had been.
Sam clenched his jaw and reluctantly shook his head.
The security guard nodded. "Well okay then," he said, turning his attention back to Ian before adding, "You have a nice day now."
Ian smiled, clutching Sam to him tightly, the little boy's chest rising and falling nineteen to the dozen. "We will," he assured the guard, turning abruptly and heading down the mall as fast as he was able. "Good boy," he muttered in Sam's ear.
The last thing Sam saw as Uncle Ian carried him away was Dean still standing in the clothes store doorway, staring off into space.
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Dean's head felt funny.
He felt as if he'd been standing here for hours.
When was Uncle Ian coming back? It was sure taking him a long time to drop Sam off at the kids' play area.
You shouldn't have let him take Sam away, his little voice broke in on his muddied thoughts. You promised him you wouldn't let anything bad happen to him!
Nothing bad's going to happen, Dean reassured himself. Sam's with Uncle Ian. He wondered why his legs ached so much. He was sure he'd only been waiting here a few minutes. Ian couldn't have been gone that long…
He felt suddenly angry at himself, but wasn't sure why.
Then he remembered, and his chest hurt almost as much as his head.
How could I have fallen for all Dad's 'monster' crap? he asked himself. Am I really that stupid? Fell for it hook, line and sinker. Dumb old Dean. Tell him anything and he'll believe it…
But he wasn't sure that was all he was angry about. Something else. Something…
And what was with the white-eyes thing? It was the lighting. Just like Uncle Ian said. And how stupid was I to fall into that pool? Good job Sammy was there to pull me out…
Poor Sammy. I passed Dad's lies on to him. And he believed me. Because I believed Dad…
Something was wrong. Something was missing. He was supposed to be doing something. He was supposed to be going somewhere…
As if Mom ever could have burned on the ceiling! Who thinks up this stuff? God I'm so stupid! To have believed it all those years, when I never even saw… When I don't even remember…
Where was he supposed to be going again? He'd been running somewhere. Running from someone…
He tried to remember.
He tried to remember the night Mom died.
He remembered the flames.
He remembered the terror on Dad's face.
He remembered holding Sam real tight in his arms.
And he remembered the blood on Sam's blanket.
Blood.
Mom's blood.
She'd been on the ceiling above Sam's crib.
Sam.
Where was Sam?
Where the hell was Sam?
Dean glanced around him, as if seeing the world for the first time.
He shook his head, as if to clear it, but it hurt so much and he couldn't seem to get his eyes to focus.
White eyes. He'd seen Ian with white eyes.
The car. He'd seen Dad's car.
The pool. He'd been pushed into the pool, he hadn't fallen.
And he knew – he knew Mom had burned up on the ceiling, just like Dad said.
Because Dad would never lie to him. Never.
How could he have believed that?
Ian.
Ian had Sam.
Ian had taken Sam right out from under his nose and he'd let him. He'd let him take him. While he'd just stood there.
Sam had been screaming. Sam had begged him.
But he'd just stood there.
How long had he been standing here?
He glanced at the big clock above the fish tank in the centre of the mall. 1:30. Oh my god – he'd been standing here for two hours! Sam had been gone two whole hours! He could be anywhere! He could be three states away! He could be –
Ian did something to me, Dean finally realised, putting a hand to his forehead. His skin was cold and clammy as blind panic started to set in. He did something to me so that I wouldn't stop him taking Sammy! That guy – that guy in the Mercedes said he had to 'dispose' of me. This is how he's disposed of me? By ditching me at the mall? That's pretty lame, even for a possessed lawyer. Or whatever the hell he is.
But I heard Dad…
Dean closed his eyes and concentrated really hard.
"Wait right here, Dean," Dad had said.
And he'd replied, "Yes, sir," like he always did. Follow orders. Good soldier. Good son.
"Dean, he's not Dad!"
That's what Sammy had screamed at him.
Oh my God, he was in my head!
The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks.
Ian had made him hear his Dad. Ian had made him hear his Dad because his Dad was the only person who Dean would ever trust to take Sam out of his sight.
He made me hear Dad. And he took Sam.
Dean felt the panic reach melting point as his head felt like it might actually explode, right there in the middle of this nice suburban shopping mall.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. It's all your fault!
Okay, take a breath. Think, Dean, think…
So Ian wouldn't take Sam home would he? Would he be that obvious? Could it be that simple? It had only taken them about twenty minutes to get here. Did he really think such a short distance would keep Dean away?
And then, just as he was beginning to think maybe Sam wasn't as lost to him as he'd initially thought, he realised something else.
He didn't know Ian's last name.
And he didn't know where he lived.
Crap.
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Minor DIP cliffie. Maybe more of a SIP cliffie. Resolution hopefully coming soon...
Thanks again for all your reviews! Feel free to carry on though!
