Field of Deans – chpt 8
by: sifi
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Justin sat on the porch steps, his arms crossed over his knees and his head down to silence the sound of his crying. Sweat poured down his skin beneath his pajamas and without the finger cramping death grip he had on his knees, he knew his hands would be shaking.
I have to be good! I HAVE to, then they won't send me away... I should get dressed and start on chores then they can see... I'll be good, I'll be the best boy they could want, then they won't send me away... good boys get clothes and clean beds, and yummy warm food, I'm hungry, he thought feeling his tummy growl, Later... do chores first... then breakfast, let ma 'n pa sleep... then they'll know they did a good thing giving me a place to call home, then they won't be sorry... a smile crept to the corners of his mouth while his tears dried on his pajama sleeves. He grasped the feed bucket at the corner of the porch and took off across the yard as the first rays of the sun were cresting the horizon.
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"Dean!" John called out moving along his appointed path through the billowy soft shafts of Winter Wheat. On either side of him were two men, each fanning outward in their own lines, each man armed with consecrated iron buckshot in their guns, silver knives, flasks of holy water, canisters of salt, various and assorted protective charms and symbols from crucifixes to the Eye of Horus and everything in between as they headed through the far too many acres between the 1958 edge of route 395 and the yard of the Marshall house.
"Dean Winchester! Are you out here?" he called again, just a few hours... how could they DO that? he wondered looking to the furthest man on his right, Buck you bastard... it WAS a different time then... okay so to LET folks believe he ran away is one thing, but to actually PROPAGATE that kind of lie! And what about THEM? What the hell kind of people don't even know where their own son is?!...how could they NOT know he was out there? didn't they check his room? he wondered, every sense keen and straining for the sound of farming machinery to come to him from the distance.
"You gotta understand John... it was a different time... and for a year that's what we ALL thought! EVERYONE in the whole dang blasted town believed that Justin ran off with the carnival freak show... there was no trace of him... we looked high and low, we had search parties, called out anyone with hounds to help search... we didn't have the resources then that we do now, and when the carnival was finally tracked down it didn't matter that there was no sign of him, he could've hitched with them for a time and decided to hit the road on his own... We DIDN'T know!" John recalled the anguish in Buck's eyes, the tremble on his lips as the story had spilled from them in the brightly lit kitchen of his tidy little cabin.
"I will NOT let that happen to my son! Good God..." he hissed through his teeth, cocking his head, listening to the sharp crispy rubbing of dried plants all around him, "... I will NOT let my son die!..." he promised, his head tilting upward to the sky, "Haven't you taken enough from me?! You DON'T get my son! You don't get Dean, you don't get Sam, you don't get another God DAMNED THING from ME DO YOU HEAR ME!" he roared toward the sky, except every prayer and promise I can give you for my boys, to keep them safe and whole, PLEASE!
Across the growing expanse between them the other four men, on either side of distraught daddy Winchester stopped in their tracks, turned to look then turned just as quickly away, the blood in their veins running just a little more chilly with the fear that far outweighed the fury in his voice.
"He was highly traumatized John... he had nightmares and fugues that would send him racing into the wheat toward the road where the accident happened. More times than I can remember Ray would find him passed out, curled in a little ball, always in the same spot he'd originally found him... why do you think Ray and Missy sold off those acres? Do you think he could work the very fields where the child they'd prayed so hard for the Good lord to give them had died?"
"He's NOT their child... he's MINE and no damned ghost is gonna take him from me!" he growled to himself, turning back, his eyes scanning a wave of motion in the crops around him, the other four men were immediately noted for position and status as the duration and depth of motion was weighed against knowledge of his sons' size.
From the furthest edge of the field a thick white fog sat almost idly, it seemed to wait, ever patient, providing camouflage now for the temporal incision they'd created. Through the fog the slim form of a teenage boy and his charge stopped just inside the border of standing crops.
"Damnit!" he cursed noting five indistinguishable dots moving in five different lines toward the main yard, "I think that middle one might be your dad Sam... he's gonna kill me..." Tommy shook his head then noticed the bundle in his arms peering intently around the field, his fingers in his mouth while he sought something.
Sam looked back and forth, his blue green eyes focused hard in concentration. A moment later, his body turned to the left, his free hand pointed in the general direction of the barn that lay far ahead, the distance obscured by the layer of mist around them, "Unh!" he grunted while pulling against the arms that held him.
"That way?" Tom asked shaking his head as Sam nodded, I can't believe I'm following a TODDLER! The munchkin can barely talk... I gotta be nuts... he breathed then started moving in the direction the little boy was pointing, but still...
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Gotta do good... gotta feed the chickens... get the eggs... gotta make ma 'n pa proud, make 'em happy, then I can stay... gotta do good, got lots of chores, slop the pigs... biiiiig pigs... scary pigs... wake up the cows... nice cows... biiig cows but nice... gotta do good, lots of chores to do... ooh gotta fix the bed before they wake up... gotta clean up my mess, it's so much...I can do it... his head turned sharply toward the field behind the barn, as a distinctly human sound caught his attention. He swayed on his feet, the rest of the surrounding landscape taking a fraction of a second to catch up to his rapid motion before snapping into place.
"Dad?" he breathed turning his attention from the cranky chickens as the back door to the house came open with Ray's slim frame backlit by the kitchen light.
"Justin? What're you doing out there in your p.j.'s son?" he asked with a yawn then stepped out onto the porch.
His legs felt like sticks as he turned toward his pa, something's wrong... I need to go into the field... I need to... something... waiting... love? but the pull of the presence before him was equally strong, and it was tangible.
"... the chickens sounded hungry..." he explained approaching the steps with his head tilted slightly downward, "...and I wanted to s'prise you an ma with getting some chores done b'fore church..."
Ray beamed at the boy, tussling his hair, "Well look at you! You're gonna be one heck of a farmer aren't cha? Up b'fore the sun, gettin' half your chores done b'fore breakfast... I see y'even started the laundry..." he nodded toward the sheets flapping on the line a few feet away then noted the boys' severe blush.
He'd been awakened by the squalling racket of a cranky henhouse awakened prematurely, rolling out of bed he'd looked out the window and seen the bright apparition of his boy throwing handfuls of feed from the bucket. A quick check of Justin's room, sheets missing from his bed and a small darkened spot in the middle of the mattress brought a squeeze to his heart for the boy. No child ever wanted to mess his or her bed, but after what happened at the carnival the previous night, Ray figured a small accident wouldn't help his son feel any better.
"...sir..." Justin dropped his head and wondered at the warm hand on his shoulder.
"C'mere son..." Ray directed him to the top step and sat beside him, "... I'm gonna hafta show you how to use the machine if you're gonna be helpin' your ma with her chores too, but I want you to stay away from the wringer okay at least till you get a little bigger... if those rollers catch your fingers they'll squish like a caterpillar under your boot... y'understand?" he asked watching his boy carefully, watching his eyes flick from the billowing sheets to his face and back again as he nodded.
"Do I have to go to school this year pa?" he asked softly as a voice called, 'Dean?' Dean?... lost... something... but what? he wondered, then wondered if he could talk to his pa about the voice in his head or if that would just be another bad mark against him when all was said and done.
Ray frowned, "I thought you were getting all excited about school, making new friends and such... and Betty's gonna be in Mrs. Hammond's class this year too... I think she likes you..."
Justin shook his head, his eyes fixed on the dirty wiggling toes that poked out from his pajama pant legs.
"I think she does... and unless I miss my guess... you kinda like her too don't you?" he asked, his voice smiling softly in the blossoming daylight.
Justin nodded but didn't look at Ray, his eyes shifted to the beckoning field before them, the wheat waving as if some giant hand were petting it, as if it were just so much fur on the face of the earth.
'Dean Winchester! Are you out here?!' cried the voice again, though it was still distant it seemed to be growing clearer, Why does that name sound familiar?... Do I know someone named Dean?
"Well then, it'll be fine... and you don't have to worry about that Johnny Beyers... he's in the third grade, he'll be in a whole different school than you for the first year," Ray's palm rubbed warm circles on the boys' back.
Justin looked up at his pa's eyes, a faint flicker of hope returning to his own, "Really?" he asked. Ray nodded, but then the boy frowned again, "...but she went with him..."
"Betty lives a couple houses down from Johnny and his family... and I think she and Alison, that's the other little girl, then Bobby Mueller all might have gone to the carnival together... I'm just sayin' it looked like you might have made a new friend and maybe y'don't even know it yet..."
"Really pa?" he asked.
"I think so... but you'll only know for sure if you go to school with the rest of the kids your age..."
"...but what if ... what... what if I don't belong there? what if the rest of them don't like me? what if..." small strands of silver slipped from his eyes as they darted once more to the sheets hanging on the line before falling to the ground and back to his wiggly toes.
"I did a bad thing... I made a accident... big boys don't do that... good boys don't make a mess in their bed..." he muttered, 'Dean Please be here! Please son!' then shook the voice from his head, not able to understand why he could barely sit still, why he felt like leaping to his feet and running into the field. Why his head felt like a jack-o-lantern with a big fat candle burning inside it.
"Is THAT why you started the laundry?" Ray asked motioning to the sheets as his little boy nodded, unable to look him in the eye.
"Aww shucks son, accidents happen to everybody once in a while... y'probably just had a little too much water before bed is all..." Ray tussled his hair glad to be at the crux of what had his boy so worried.
"Really?" he asked finally daring to look up.
"Well sure... we all get up sometimes in the night to go... but you had a really big day yesterday. Taking that into consideration, maybe you musta just been tuckered out enough to sleep right through, it happens sometimes..."
"So I got another chance?" he asked hopefully.
"Another chance at what Justin?" Ray asked, confused by the question.
"Another chance to be a good boy? So I don't have to go away to the freak show?" he muttered, "Johnny said I should be in the freak tent, and Bobby said so too..." he mumbled.
"Hey now! I won't have that kind of talk! Your ma 'n I love you son! We prayed for God to give us someone we could love and he gave us YOU! and nothing is gonna change that! No matter what Justin, you're OUR son, we would NEVER send you away! NEVER do you understand that?" he asked gruffly, his thumb and forefinger holding the boys' chin gently so the truth could shine between them.
Slowly the boy that owned his heart nodded and his lips trembled faintly in the beginnings of a smile.
"Good... now why don't you go get yourself dressed proper for morning chores and we'll handle 'em together, let your ma sleep in a bit okay?" Ray wrapped his arm around the nodding head of his boy, drew him in and planted a shaky kiss on the top of his head. It'll be alright son, once folks get to know you... they'll love you just as much as we do.
"Thanks pa," he hugged the trembling man beside him then dashed into the house, quietly up the stairs and into his room to dress properly.
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"Uuoaaah!" Sam wriggled and squirmed his face all scrunched up and reddening as his feet flailed, thumping against Tom's ribs and chest, a lucky heel catching him in the family jewels as he shifted his grip on the slippery little boy and nearly dropped him.
"Down?" he asked tightly thanking every deity above that the kid hadn't meant to kick him there. Sam nodded pointing away from the diverging group of men they'd followed and a little back toward the road.
"C'mon kiddo I know you can talk... say something..." he urged setting the little boy on his own feet but making sure he had a firm grip on his hand.
"Uh oh..." Sam breathed in a near whisper while patting the side of his head with an open palm. In a moment he started to pull the teen behind him deep into the swaying grasses.
"I find Dean... sticky b'loon... go prfffffflbbblllllt, say Sammy...say me!" he frowned moving forward, pulling a suddenly shivering young man behind him.
I got a bad feeling about this... Tom thought watching the five elder men moving in what he was certain was the wrong direction.
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Ray poked his head into Justin's bedroom just as the boy was tying his shoes, "Are you gonna be okay finishing with the chickens and tending the pigs while I run down a few acres b'fore your ma wakes up?"
"Sure pa... no problem," the boy smiled leaping to his feet and wrapping his arms around the man's waist, "Thanks pa," he sighed softly, closing his eyes with the warm comfort of that hard calloused hand stroking his hair back.
"You're a good boy Justin... now... let's go get some things done for ma so she can have an easy day today huh?" he adjusted the cap onto the boys head with a bright smile as the first orange rays of dawn shot through the bedroom window.
"'Kay..." he nodded dashing into the hall, down the stairs and out the kitchen door like a shot.
"Is he okay y'think Ray?" Missy asked stepping into the hallway in her robe and slippers.
"I think he's gonna be just fine Missy..." he kissed her temple, gave her a squeeze and a stroke to the cheek before heading down the stairs himself. I hope...
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What was that? John's attention turned to the house before him, it sounded like a wooden screen door slamming. "Dean? Is that you son?"
A warm breeze fluttered through the yard catching his attention as a set of white sheets fluttered ethereally in the direction of the barn. He wasn't sure they were really there but with the sky turning from steel gray to the lavender of pre-dawn that would eventually give way to the pink and orange of early sunrise, he'd be able to tell before long.
"Dean!? Come on dude! Talk to me! Are you out here?" he called then waited, listening to the sound of angry or hungry chickens clucking and squawking off to the left. "Dean! Please answer me son! Please! It's daddy!" he called.
"Daddy?" Sam turned grasping Tom's jeans in his hands, trying to haul himself up so he could see above the wheat.
"Yeah kiddo, that's your dad... he's going to find Dean... you wanna go to him?" Tom asked picking the boy up again and pointing in the direction of the elder hunter.
Sam shook his head, his eyes big and tired, filled with frustration he couldn't spill just yet, "Daddy bad way... sticky b'loon Dean prfffffflbbblllllt..." he raspberried then pointed back down to the ground, "we go..." Sam pointed down again, this time grasping Tom's fingers to pull him forward.
There were only a few moments when Sam seemed to get disoriented before quickly righting himself and their course, drawing Tom through the rows finally to a small patch where the stalks had been broken and dark earth, smelling faintly of worms and other moisture lay bare, fitting the memory of a toddler's dream.
"Are we here Sam?" Tom asked crouching beside the baby who fell to his hands and knees, his tongue poking out of his bowed downward mouth while his hands pulled at the surprisingly soft ground, digging.
"Get daddy..." he grunted pulling tiny fists of earth away.
"Uh no way kiddo... we get him together..."
"Dean!" Sam squealed as a glimpse of white became visible under the little boy's fists, "Dean got uh oh!... go sticky..." he muttered more to himself than to Tom.
Oh man, oh God... is that what I think it is? Dean got an uh oh... oh man... please... he thought helping the little one clear away the dirt until his suspicion was confirmed with the exposure of a shattered jaw bone, crushed and fragmented partial skull that could easily belong to an average sized six year old kid.
"Oh jeez... Sam... how did you know this was here?" he asked grasping the baby to his chest and standing up, "John! John get over here! Shep!" he called as loudly as he could though the thickening mist muffled his voice, deadening the sound before it could reach the men.
"No! No! Dean!" Sam squealed pulling against his arms, pulling toward the ground, toward the exposed skull and small cervical vertebrae that lay close by.
"We're gonna save him kiddo, I promise..." Tommy pressed his lips to Sam's temple, his arms holding him close before holding him apart from himself, "do you know what happened? How Dean got his uh oh?" he asked.
Sam smiled nodding, "Ppppbbbbbrrrrrrooooooommmmm," then raised his arm, "That."
Tommy followed the line of the boys' finger as it pointed toward the barn.
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tbc. (I thought it would end with chapter 8... I'm sorry,)
Please R&R anyway.
Thanks.
sifi.