AU – this is not connected to any of my other stories in the fandom – more just a random idea that for some reason my brain wanted me to write.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. I'm just playing with Kripke's toys. This work of fanfiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story.
Now and Then Part 2: Hunting Things
Prologue
Mikala could still remember the chill in the cave, the weird bluish light that made everyone look ghoulish, even the small children. Everyone except the boy. To Mikala he seemed to have a warm glow that was just his.
The boy had told them all not to worry and to hang tight and that he'd be right back. Then he disappeared for what felt like hours but was probably only about ten minutes. Eventually he was back, grinning reassuringly at them.
"OK, the freaky fugly is nowhere to be seen so I say we get the hell out of here."
This was met by enthusiastic nods, but one small voice spoke up.
"I don't know the way, I can't remember." Big wet eyes blinked at the boy, scared and hopeful at once.
The boy looked around the gathered kids and saw nods of agreement. Filing that bit of info away, he hitched his smile back into place.
"It's easy. We'll just follow this water," he pointed to a persistent trickle that ran along the ground. "That will get us out of the caves into the forest."
"Forest?" a little girl piped up worriedly. "If you get lost in the forest a bear will eat you." There was no way for the rest of them to know who had informed her of this fact but it was clear she had taken them at their word.
"Don't worry, I marked the route." The boy smiled with a cocky toss of his flashlight so it spun perfectly in the air before he caught it again.
"Like breadcrumbs?" The voice that piped up this time had probably read the story of Hänsel and Gretel recently.
The boy moved to kneel in front of the youngster. "Even better," he reassured, knowing that hadn't worked out so well. "I cut crosses into the trees, just look for them and they'll lead us straight back to town."
"And then?"
"And then you go home."
The word was like a beacon, one they were all desperate to reach, and hopeful faces glowed at him from every side.
"Ok, I've checked the route and it seems clear but stick together and stay close to me. If anything happens just remember the plan. Follow the water, follow the crosses, go home, understand?"
They all nodded. The boy gave them one more reassuring smile then set his face to determination and started leading the way.
"I take it that something did happen," Dr Moore said. Her voice brought Mikala out of the cave and back to the present.
Mikala looked across the doctor's office and swallowed before nodding. "But I remembered the plan," she added, a hint of defiance in her eyes.
Now & Then Part 2 – Hunting Things
Chapter 1: Identity Crisis
The dining room at St Michael's was noisy. Hungry boys made for a cacophony of greetings, arguments, and laughter not to mention the clattering of plates and cutlery, so lunch duty was one role all the adults tried to avoid when possible. It was perhaps because of this, that Mr Stephens had taken somewhat longer than strictly necessary in assisting TJ to find his lost shoe, leaving the rest of the boys under the stern scowl of Mrs Coulson, who cooked and served the meals.
Malcolm took the opportunity to skip ahead in the queue by several people, shoving little Kenny out of his way. When Kenny let out a cry of surprise and hurt because his elbow banged painfully into the counter. Kid, who was a few people behind Kenny leaning against the wall with his arms folded and staring at his shoes, raised his head. Identifying the problem, he moved to check on the small boy, rubbing the sore spot soothingly as Kenny blinked the moisture furiously from his eyes.
"Baby," Malcolm, sneered. He hadn't meant to hurt Kenny and was embarrassed. Kenny was the sort of small and quiet child that even bullies hadn't the heart to pick on.
"Don't be a jerk, Malcolm," Kid said wearily. "Why can't you just wait in line like everyone else?" He didn't have the patience for this today.
"Why can't you mind your own business?" Malcolm snapped.
"Oh, just grow up," Kid snapped back.
A general jeer from the spectators that were gathering, had Malcolm's cheeks glowing and he scowled at the person he held responsible. "You think you're such a big man, but you're not," he snarled." You're nothing. You're no one. You don't even have a name!" The jeering of the crowd stopped. "You don't even have a birthday so you'll never become a man. You'll always just be a Kid!"
Everyone was deadly silent with some looking fearful and others excited. If Malcolm was planning to say more, he didn't get the chance. Instead, he found his face full of mashed potato and gravy.
Kid, who had locked down every muscle in his body trying to maintain control, opened his mouth in surprise and turned to look at Kenny. The boy barely ever raised his eyes, let alone go so far as to raise his voice or a finger against another kid.
Kenny shrugged. "He was being a jerk," he said quietly.
The room that had been prickling with tension a moment before, suddenly erupted in laughter.
"OK, OK, settle down," Miss Lewis called, making her way through the gathered crowd. "What's going on here … Oh my, what happened?"
"He did it," Malcolm pointed to Kenny, "on purpose," he snarled. Wiping gravy from his face, he took a threatening step towards the boy who was half his size. Miss Lewis moved between them with a stern look at Malcolm.
"Did not!" Kenny insisted, poking his head around Miss Lewis to glare at Malcolm.
"Did too!"
"OK, enough!" Miss Lewis took a breath, keeping her temper. She turned to look sternly at Kenny.
"I tripped," he lied, giving her big cow eyes.
"Mrs Coulson," Miss Lewis addressed the cook. "Did you see what happened here?"
"I'm sorry, Miss Lewis," Mrs Coulson said, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "My back was turned."
Miss Lewis looked around the gathered faces and noticed how none were willing to meet her eye.
"Come along, Malcolm, let's get you cleaned up." She started to lead the still grumbling Malcolm away. "Kenny, come and see me in my office after lunch."
As the boys returned to the queue or their seats or wherever they had been before the excitement started, Mrs Coulson winked at Kenny and handed him a fresh, well-loaded plate.
"Move along now, you're holding up the line," she barked, reverting to her usual brusque persona.
now&then
Minutes later, Kid was breathing hard as he ran up the steep steps to the top of the clock tower. He was furious. The upheaval of the last week had taken its toll and Malcolm, sensing weakness, had been taking advantage of the fact. The incident in the lunchroom was the last straw in a series of digs from the douche. On the verge of doing some serious damage, Kid had decided he'd best get away for a bit and calm down. Not that he wouldn't get a great deal of pleasure from reminding that asshole why he wasn't to be messed with, but he had promised Miss Lewis he wouldn't render Malcolm unconscious ever again.
Having made the top of the tower he leant on the railing, catching his breath and watching the people below. It had become a habit, before St Michael's when he was wandering, to find a high place and look around; looking for something familiar, looking for home.
He'd found one, in a way. St Michael's had given him a warm bed and regular meals. And Miss Lewis had always been good to him, offering comfort and counsel without pushing him. Kid worked to pay his way as much as he could. She said it wasn't necessary but he knew she appreciated the work he did. St Michael's was always low on funds and much of the building needed repair.
But still, he often found himself coming up here. Perhaps, even if he hated it, even if he felt it was a sign of weakness, part of him was still looking, still hoping for that eureka-moment of recognition. He was worried that Malcolm was right, that he was no one and nothing, since he didn't even have a name or a birthday, two such basic aspects of identity.
He'd been working on it, on getting himself a fresh start. Before he could stop it, his traitorous mind pointed out that if he truly wanted to leave the past behind and make a new life, he'd have picked a name and filled in the paperwork that was tucked into his drawer along with the photograph he'd stolen from Sam. But some part of him had procrastinated, clinging to the hope that he would remember. It made it doubly hard to face the Winchesters. On some level he wanted them to be lying. To be faced with his family and still not finally know home had been one of his worst fears since he could remember.
So they had to be lying, right? Let's face it, there was something seriously weird about them. I mean he'd been at St Michael's for three years without anyone even looking for him, then suddenly this family shows up and says he's their long-lost son/brother, only they can't tell the authorities because they're professional monster hunters. They might as well have said he was ET and they were his alien family who had accidentally left without him but had now come back to beam him up.
He couldn't even talk to Miss Lewis about it all, since - despite his misgivings - he hadn't told her the Winchesters weren't who they claimed to be. He hadn't told her anything different from what 'Mr Murtagh' had told her during his first visit. He was conscious the Winchesters were still in town and he wished they'd just go away. All the 'monster' talk had to be a cover for something dodgy. Kid was sure he was doing the right thing staying away from them. Even if they weren't lying, it couldn't be good to go back to whatever hell he had come from that had landed him lost, alone, and memoryless.
But, much as he hated to admit it, John had been right; he had questions and needed some answers. And he'd have to talk to them to get them. He scowled at the crowd of anonymous townsfolk below. He wasn't changing his mind. He wasn't 'Dean', he was him. He just needed to speak to the adults without the kids present and get the truth. Once he had his answers, he could say goodbye and draw a line under this whole thing. Yes, that was all there was to it. He would go see John, get his answers and tell them his decision. Then he'd be free to start over.
now&then
"So basically, we're supposed to act like Dean and this Kid are two different people and convince him to hang out with us as if we're strangers?" John scowled, tossing down the psychobabble for the third time.
As she had promised, Sandra had sent them some advice on things to consider when dealing with their amnesiac son. John was not impressed with the suggestions and his face had been getting darker with each page he read. Bobby suspected John would pace for a while then pick it back up and continue reading, as he had several times already.
"Pretty much, yeah." Bobby scratched his beard. It was an oversimplification of what the notes suggested, which was mostly about not pressuring Dean to be his old self and withholding expectations of memory and behaviour based on the boy they'd known before.
Not that Dean had reached out in any way. It had been days, yet they'd heard nothing from him. Bobby was worried about the strain on all of them and had sent the boys out for a few hours of relief from the increasing impatience of John. There was a bang as John thumped the wall.
"He is my son; I am not treating him like a stranger! And what the hell are you thinking, suggesting I should?"
"I'm thinking you are a stranger to him!" Bobby flared up. He knew how hard this was on John but damnit John wasn't the only one hurting.
"I am his father!" The Marine veteran was in his face, grabbing the front of Bobby's shirt, aggressively pulling him forward.
"I know that you idjit, it's him that's got the memory problem." Bobby forced John's hands off him. John allowed this but didn't back off. "Though maybe your memory's faulty too, since you can't seem to hold it in that stubborn skull of yours that what we know ain't the point. It's what he knows."
"Don't talk to me like I'm a child!"
"Don't behave like one!"
There was a moment where they stared at each other, that fine line between love and hate stretching between them. John blinked first and ran a hand over his hair, then turned to stare out of the window, breathing hard. Bobby sighed. He knew John was exhausted and terrified. The first, Winchesters excelled at handling but when it came to the second they seriously struggled.
"Damnit, John. So far, Dean has only been comfortable with Adam, and Sandra thinks that's because there's no history there. Can you take your head out of your ass just enough to approach it the same way, for now? You go storming in there all Vader - 'I am your father' - and you're going to push him away."
Historically, John was known to get his way by simply steamrollering right over everyone else. The reason Bobby and he worked was he couldn't pull that shit with Singer and he knew it. It didn't stop him trying sometimes though. Bobby had learnt to shout as loud as John but edge it with humour, the only thing likely to break through that stubborn outer shell John wore in an attempt to protect his heart.
John didn't calm his voice but his eyes were no longer quite so stormy when he glanced over his shoulder to eye Bobby and speak darkly. "I prefer my plan." There was a slight quirk of John's eyebrow. It was small but enough for Bobby to know he'd heard the 'Vader' comment for what it was.
Bobby threw his hands up in exasperation. "Yeah, right. Kidnap the kid, drag him home and lock him in the panic room. 'Cause that will give him the warm fuzzies, won't freak him out at all."
"It will get him home and keep him put while we work this thing out." Seriousness was fading from John's voice, if not the deep frustration.
Their argument was interrupted by a knock at the door.
John checked his weapon then went to see who it was. After glancing through the peephole his shoulders slumped and he tucked his gun in the back of his jeans before turning the handle.
Kid was standing there, hands in his pockets, with a look on his face that clearly indicated he'd heard what they were saying. Bobby took some heart from the fact he appeared amused more than anything else, though at the threat of being kidnapped or just the expressions on their faces at being caught discussing it, he couldn't yet tell.
"If I come in, are you going to chloroform me?"
"I can think of a dozen better ways of knocking you out," Bobby challenged.
The teen smirked and stepped into the room, allowing John to close the door behind him. "I waited until the kids went out," he admitted.
John nodded, barely managing to control his snort of amusement. Dean had stopped classing himself as a child when he was about eight, it was not surprising that at sixteen, with everything he'd been through, he considered childhood far behind him. There was a pause while John and Bobby waited while Kid figured out what he wanted to say.
"Coffee?" Bobby suggested after the moment stretched.
Kid looked at the man who claimed to be his father, then back to Bobby and nodded.
Uncomfortable silence pervaded as Bobby put on the coffee and it filtered. John tidied the scattered papers from Sandra. Kid wandered the room, glancing at strewn clothes, the pictures on the walls, the bag of weapons not quite hidden under the bed. Eventually Bobby filled the mugs, and they all sat around the table.
now&then
AN: My sincere apologies that it has taken so long to start posting part 2, my muse has been a right little madam about certain parts. Hopefully it has all worked out acceptably. Please do let me know what you think. Thank you for reading and I hope everyone is well and happy xx
As always a big thank you to Meilean and Churchlady63 for helping me give my muse a good slap upside the head when she needed it or we might never had got here at all.
