thanks for reading and for all the awesome reviews!! still a really long way to go!! hope everyone is still liking the story!! bambers;)
Chapter Nineteen
Dean glanced down at the lumpy oatmeal on his tray and grimaced. He'd always hated oatmeal, it reminded him of the paste they used in school for gluing things together, and that's pretty much what it tasted like too. And if by some weird cosmic chance in hell he did happen to love oatmeal and water for breakfast, there wasn't enough of it in his bowl to even remotely quell the growling pain in his stomach.
The scent of bacon and coffee still lingered heavily in the air, but as he looked around the dining area, he noticed that like himself everyone else had oatmeal and water on their trays. Unlike himself, however, they all dug into their tiny bowls of pasty goo with gusto, which either meant his new brothers and sisters were all a bunch of freak oatmeal loving fools or like himself they were absolutely starving. And as he was a gambler, he figured the latter was a safe bet.
As he shuffled through the crowd of people, searching for a place to sit, he also looked for Dawn. Confused by the evasive things she'd said to him, Dean couldn't help but feel that it had been deliberate on her part. And when she spoke of brothers, the word didn't conjure up the image of his new family, but of Sam, and he wondered if it was intentional on her part or just wishful thinking on his.
Dawn had also called him Dean when everyone else called him Child. A weird unexplainable feeling crept into the pit of his stomach upon hearing the name he'd heard constantly all his life. It was almost as if the name didn't fit him anymore. Dean was a strong name, for an equally strong person. It was a name of a man who could fight and protect people from danger. It was a name that said, 'I gotcha' and 'nothing's gonna hurt you, not while I've got your back' and the words meant something.
No, the name didn't fit him any longer. He was Child. Weak and pathetic.
"Child," one of his new brother's broke in on his thoughts, and motioned toward the head table where the Father was sitting, "Father wants you to sit with him."
Dean lifted his head, and spotted Dawn sitting in the seat beside the Father. Their heads were drawn closely together, and Dawn was laughing at something the Father had said to her. Briefly they both looked in Dean's direction, and their laughter grew louder as the Father gestured to the word etched on his chest.
Tears burned at Dean's eyes as he forced a smile. Dawn had been playing with him, probably at the Father insistence, he reasoned, but it didn't make it hurt any less. Foolishly he'd believed she'd cared, and he desperately needed that at the moment. Needed someone who would look beyond how broken and useless he was and would like him nonetheless. That had always been Sam's job, and he'd abandon his post, leaving Dean alone and defenseless.
Hatred swelled near overflowing in Dean's heart for Sam. His fingers curled tightly around his tray as he thought back to all the things he'd given up to protect Sam. Sadly, it finally sank in that his brother had always been a selfish bastard who only cared about himself. Sam's own actions had always proven that much. He'd left for college when he knew how much it would kill Dean for him to leave. He'd never wanted to be a hunter, had always questioned why it was their job to protect others instead of having lives of their own. And the very first opportunity Sam had received, he'd hightailed it away from the family, and Dean should have realized it right then and there how little strength of character his little brother really had.
"You gonna stand here lookin' at your oatmeal all day, or are ya gonna get moving?" the same man who had spoken to him a few minutes before said as he pushed Dean forward toward the Father's table.
A smart remark burned on Dean's tongue, but died on his lips as Dawn made eye contact with him. Her earlier laughter belied the small encouraging smile she cast in his direction, and he lowered his head, not about to be made a fool of again by her.
"Get movin', Child." The bald-headed man pushed Dean a little harder, and the cup on Dean's tray teetered for a moment before toppling over, water spilling into his oatmeal. "Damn, sorry about that," he chuckled, "hope you like soggy oatmeal."
"Love it," Dean muttered as he trudged toward the Father and Dawn.
Dean stopped at the table the Father was sitting at and waited for him to finish speaking to Dawn.
As he waited, his gaze traveled down the length of the long table, and although there were many seats available, the only two occupied were by the Father and Dawn. He glanced over his shoulder, and although he saw many people milling around trying to find a place to sit, none dare approach the head table.
"Sit beside me, Child." The Father placed his hand on the chair to his right hand side, and Dean moved around the table to take a seat. Dean tried to pull out the chair, but the Father's hand tightened around the backrest as he briefly lowered his gaze to the ground. "On the floor."
A whispered murmuring rose within the room, and just as quickly died away as Dean stood there with hands clenched firmly around his breakfast tray, humiliated. Heat spread upward from his neck to flush his face as he slowly crouched into a sitting position on the dirty floor. He lowered his head and began to choke down the water-logged oatmeal, gagging as it stuck to the roof of his mouth and caught in the back of his throat.
"Morning Dawn," the Father leaned closer to Dawn and lovingly brushed her wispy bangs out of her eyes, "I want you to go and check on our little pet. You know how he gets when he doesn't have his medication." A low mirthless chuckle escaped the Father's lips as he pat the back of Dean's head as if the once fearless hunter was no more than a mangy puppy begging for scraps. "We wouldn't want him to suffer, now would we?"
"No, Father. I'll do my best to take care of him." Dawn caught Dean's eye for the briefest of moments and it was as if she was trying to convey something extremely important in that fleeting glance, but Dean wasn't buying into her pretense of concern. "H-he isn't doing well." Her breath hitched in her throat, blue eyes glistening as she feigned a smile. "Don't think he's gonna be able to hold out much longer."
If Dean hadn't witnessed her cruelty firsthand a few minutes before, he would've sworn that she truly cared for the animal they spoke of, but he wasn't about to be fooled by her a second time. "Haven't seen any animals around here," Dean spoke up as he tried to recall if he's seen even one dog or cat roaming around the compound, but couldn't remember seeing any.
"That's cause we keep him chained up," the Father quickly supplied, motioning for Dawn to leave. Dawn rose from her seat, kissed the Father on the cheek and then hurried away to do his bidding. Returning his attention to Dean, the Father picked up a piece of bacon off his plate and studied it for a moment. "He's really been a huge pest, but I just couldn't let him wander the streets in his condition. Never know what kind of trouble he might have stirred up."
The Father held out the thick slab of bacon to him, and Dean snatched it out of his hand. Hastily devouring it, Dean winced as he licked his dried, chapped lips. The slightly salty aftertaste clung to his tongue as he glanced down at his oatmeal, and grimaced.
"Here, Child," the Father chuckled as he handed Dean another piece of bacon, "wouldn't want to be seen as playing favorites, but I've grown quite fond of you. Think like Morning Dawn, you will be one of my special children."
"Special children?"
"Yes, the one's whom I rely on to protect the family's interest, those who make sure no one harms the rest of my children." He cupped a hold of Dean's chin, and gently raised it so Dean was looking him squarely in the eyes. "I think you're special." He let those words sink in for a few minutes and when Dean smiled, he added, "Think this family is lucky to have you. Will you protect our family, Child? Will you protect me?"
"With my life, Father," Dean responded without the slightest hesitation.
"That's my boy." The Father rose to stand, and motioned for Dean to do the same. Dean set his tray on the table, and made his way to his feet. "I want to show you something," he called back over his shoulder as he headed for the exit, and Dean followed.
Once outside, the Father slowed his pace so they were walking side by side. In the middle of the courtyard the Father stopped and made a wide sweeping gestured toward all the men on guard near the gated wall. "I've personally helped train all these men to protect the family. All of them are near perfect marksmen. However, I have a feeling you could out shoot them all." The Father turned to look at him, narrowing his eyes as he scrutinized Dean. "Am I right?" At Dean's subtle nod, the Father smiled. "Thought as much. I want you to teach them to be perfect."
"Why do they need to be perfect?" Dean watched as his brothers march back and forth in front of the tall wooden barricade fence, guns at the ready. "What are we fighting against?"
"The world, Child."
"Don't understand."
"We are the special ones . . . the chosen ones," the Father began to explain as he again pointed toward all his children wandering around the expansive compound, "We have been appoint by God himself to usher in a new age of hope to the world. To bring peace at long last." The Father hesitated for a moment as he looked Dean in the eyes, his own reflecting so much love that Dean was momentarily lost in them. "God sifts through all the rumble and finds only the most precious of gems and brings them to me to hone and shape to perfection. You were chosen, Child. Brought to me by God so that you could serve a higher purpose."
"I was chosen?" Dean could've almost laughed, but the look on the older man's face clearly said that he truly believed everything he was saying, and Dean found himself wanting to believe it as well. "What higher purpose are we serving?"
"A one world rule. No more wars. No more homeless, starving people. A place where our children can be safe from harm."
The Father picked up his pace again and Dean followed. They entered one of the larger outbuildings, and Dean could hear the sounds of children laughing and playing. They strode down a long corridor and Dean glanced into several rooms along the way, and was surprised to find them brimming with children of all ages. All the little boys had military style crewcuts and wore black t-shirts and jeans, while all the girls had their long hair tied back in braids and wore plain, knee-length blue dresses.
Entering one of the rooms, the Father cleared his throat to gain everyone attention, and all the children stopped playing and immediately fell silent. "These are my children. They are your brothers and sisters." He turned to address all his children as he gestured to Dean. "This is my son and your newest brother. His new name is Dominic. No longer a child, but a man worthy of the name." He smiled at Dean, and Dean found himself smiling back, liking the sound of his new name.
All the children rushed toward Dean, nearly knocking him over as they hugged onto his legs, and Dean had to laugh at their enthusiasm and outward show of love toward him. A raven-haired girl with bright blue eyes tugged at his arm to gain his attention. When he looked at her, she crooked a chubby little finger and motioned for him to come closer. He crouched down to her level and she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.
"Love ya, Dominic," the little girl whispered in Dean's ear before she ran off to play again.
Dean's smiled faltered briefly as he spotted one lone boy who stood apart from the others. The boy slowly shook his head, hazel eyes brimming with unshed tears. He stared at Dean for a moment and then glanced to his left toward the corner of the room, and Dean could've sworn for a moment that he saw a faint shadow before it disappeared.
"They need you, Dominic," the Father assurances brought Dean's attention back to him. He patted one of his sons on the top of the head, and then bobbed his head towards the others. "All of them need you. They are our future, and yet they cannot protect themselves from the evils of this world. Will you protect them?"
"With my life, Father."
"Good. I knew you would make for the perfect son, Dominic. I'm proud of you."
All thoughts of the shadow he'd seen disappeared at the Father's words. His Father was proud of him, and that was all he'd ever really wanted to hear. Warmth of his new family wrapped itself around him, and he was at home and at peace at long last.