![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Eyas (Part One of Three)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellifer_fic
Rating: PG (Language)
Category: SPN, AU.
Word Count: 3,697
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, no offense, no money.
Summary: Ey-as (ahy-us) a young falcon taken from the nest for training.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three
“Went a little overboard, don'cha think?”
Bobby was eyeing the teenager practically mummified by rope lying in the back of Winter’s pickup, including a gag in his mouth. A smaller boy sat next to him, regarding them solemnly with one hand resting on the tied boy’s chest. Winter simply held up a hand to Bobby, showing an ugly bite between thumb and first finger that was red and already bruising around the edges.
“He went for the little’un first,” Lacey said, coming up from around the other side of the truck. She tapped a small fist against Winter’s broad chest, his pale blue eyes looking at her with fond exasperation. “We didn’t even see the other boy until he was on us.”
“Wait a second,” Bobby said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Someone took you by surprise?” Bobby hadn’t thought it possible. Winter was mute and practically silent in every other regard. If it weren’t for his black hair, he would’ve also been an albino, his skin so pale it was almost translucent and his eyes only with the barest hint of colour. Most at the ranch had thought his skin and eyes were a result of something he’d fought.
Winter, ever taciturn, had never elaborated.
“I know,” Lacey enthused, eyes sparkling. “A back full of rock salt put him down quick enough but he still managed to get his teeth into Winter.”
“Shooting ‘em ain’t the best way to garner trust,” Bobby said, looking concerned. His gaze flicked back to the truck bed and he met green eyes that were furious and possibly a little feral. Sometimes the kids they found were too far gone to be trained, as likely to slit your throat as look at you, never able to trust. Those they turned loose after a time. Bobby didn’t like it but he could also see how it was a kindness because the close quarters and other people only made the fear worse.
“I thought he was a spirit, moved so quick and quiet,” Lacey objected, eyeing the boy herself. She was looking troubled and Bobby grimaced. Winter made a short sign, not your fault.
“Well, let’s get ‘em inside,” Bobby instructed, pulling a long, flat wallet out of his jacket and flipping it open. “Should I tranq ‘em both?”
“Little one’s meek enough,” Lacey said, rubbing over her chin contemplatively. “Got right into the truck when we had the other stowed.”
“Okay, good enough,” Bobby nodded and took the tail gate of the truck down, putting hands out towards the smaller boy, who shrunk back with a small noise of fear. His hand tightened its grip on the tied boy, who was still staring at Bobby with rage in his eyes, but now there was also concern there. “How about both at the same time, eh?” Bobby proposed instead. He looked to Winter who sighed with no sound, all head movement and shoulder shrugging, as he moved forward. Winter reached into the truck and tugged the tied boy towards himself, the little one scooting along with him. Winter hefted the tied boy into his arms and the smaller climbed Winter like a tree, settling on his back, arms hooked around his neck.
Winter looked at Bobby and gestured as best he could for him to go on ahead into the farm house. Ellen had appeared at the doorway, rubbing her hands on a ragged dish cloth and holding the screen open with one boot. She raised her eyebrows as Winter passed her, but didn’t comment.
000
Thankfully, most of the kids were outside running drills. There was always a lot of noise and fuss when new ones came in, the last thing they needed when they’d spent months or maybe years by themselves. Most were spooked so badly by their initial introduction to the ranch that it took days for them to calm enough to be reassured and integrated, if it were possible.
The only kids inside were Sophia, a girl of fifteen who had obviously been helping Ellen with the mountain of dishes and Theo, also fifteen who had a hold of Lacey’s two year old, Buster. The toddler was mostly asleep, head dropped on Theo’s shoulder as the boy patted his back.
“What’s going on?” Theo asked as they entered, passing Buster from one shoulder to the other and looking curious when Winter shouldered through the door with his burdens. Theo was old for still being at the ranch. Most kids were taken by a hunter by twelve or thirteen to become a boot if they were brought in early enough, most on their own by sixteen to seventeen. Theo had always shown a way with the other kids and hadn’t needed to be asked twice to stay on to become a teacher.
“Two for one today,” Lacey said, coming in behind Winter and relieving Theo of Buster who opened one sleepy eye, twisted some of Lacey’s sunflower coloured hair around a fist and dropped right back off to sleep.
Winter leaned over so he could lay the tied boy flat on the couch that took up one wall and before he could raise himself again, the smaller boy had slithered off and wedged himself behind the boy’s head.
“Can you speak?” Bobby asked, hunkering down at eye level to the smaller boy. He would’ve liked to have ungagged the other one because underneath all the dirt and ropes, he was probably twelve or maybe as much as fourteen, but he also remembered the rather vicious bite on Winter’s hand and didn’t particularly want a matching souvenir.
All Bobby got was a blink of solemn eyes but not a word. Bobby, not quite knowing why, leaned forward and gripped the boy’s shirt by the collar, turning the back out. Scrawled in laundry marker in big childish hand was the name, Sam. “Well, Sam is it?” Bobby prodded and the other boy made a grunt of protest and starting flailing on the couch as much as he was able, which wasn’t very much at all. His feet drummed on the wooden arm and his eyes rolled.
“Can’t we untie him?” Theo asked, starting forward and Bobby put out a hand.
The thing was, he wanted to but he’d also seen full grown adults put down by kids who barely reached their breast bones in height if they were desperate enough. These kids, from what Bobby could tell, had survived relatively unscathed for a long time by themselves in the Wasteland and that took equal parts strength and cunning. Hell, after what Lacey had said about the older boy coming out of nowhere, he was willing to bet Sam had been laid out as a decoy and Winter might have sustained more than just a bite if Lacey hadn’t been in the truck when he’d attacked.
“You prove you’re willing to sit still and quiet and I’ll cut you loose,” Bobby advised in an even, soothing tone. “You keep carryin’ on and we’ll have to leave you as you are, maybe feed you through a tube if it takes days for you to calm yourself.”
Sometimes Ellen called what Bobby did tough love with a wry grin. He was the one that broke the kids when they first came in. If he couldn’t do it, it couldn’t be done. Every scar he wore was a kid he’d failed. “Can you tell Gregor to keep the kids outside for another hour or so?” Bobby asked, looking up at Theo. He was still looking torn but nodded, recognising an order when he heard one, even if it was in the form of a question. Theo disappeared out the back and Sophia, who had drifted into the living room’s doorway from the kitchen, also retreated. Lacey, Ellen, Winter and Bobby remained with the two boys.
Bobby reached awkwardly behind the tied boy’s neck but he was out of luck, the name not conveniently etched. “Okay, I’m going to call you John for now,” Bobby started to say but a small hand landed on his shoulder.
“Dean,” Sam said, little frown-line creasing between his eyebrows. “That’s Dean,” he repeated. Dean’s eyes swung to Sam and narrowed, a silent plea for Sam to quiet most likely but Bobby smiled at him.
“Dean it is then,” he agreed and watched Sam nod and subside, taking his hand back and resting it on Dean’s shoulder, small fingers gripping the bit of shirt poking out from above the ropes. “Okay, Dean. How about you stay calm long enough for me to untie you so you can sit up properly and not be hauled around like a slab of beef?”
Dean’s eyes flared for a moment, but then he nodded slowly. Something had flickered in the green for a second, the barest hint of quick calculation that Bobby recognised. He drew his pocket knife and started sawing through the rope carefully, not even bothering to try untying Winter’s knots and one thing they had a lot of was rope.
Bobby didn’t know quite what he was expecting, but Dean jackrabbiting up as soon as he was free enough, bringing a knife from somewhere and an arm coming up to shove Sam behind him, wasn’t quite it. Bobby backed off, giving him space and everyone else in the room doing the same, except for Winter who had moved in front of the doorway to the outside before Bobby had finished slashing the ropes.
Dean held the knife out front and slightly to the side, pointed at Bobby but ready should someone else come at him. Bobby had seen desperate kids with weapons before and the one thing common with them all that Dean wasn’t doing was trembling. He had a hold of something he knew how to use and Bobby gave him the distance he demanded with the small blade.
“We’re leaving,” Dean gritted through bared teeth. He groped behind him and grabbed a fistful of Sam’s shirt, tugging him along as he made for where Theo had disappeared only a few minutes earlier.
“Not that way, you’re not,” Bobby said, hands out and palms up in a placatory gesture. “There’s eight foot high perimeter fence all the way around plus about twenty-five kids all trained in hand-to-hand and their teachers.”
Dean looked behind him for a moment, as if he could confirm what Bobby was saying by staring hard enough through the wall, then switched directions, edging towards Winter and the blocked doorway. “You might not have seen being tied and flat as you were, but out the front is electrified fence that needs to be opened with a code.”
Dean stilled, a fine tremor starting up in his hand and the other working on the grip he had of Sam. Bobby knew he now had to tread carefully, because desperation always led to bad accidents. “Now listen. We’re not about keeping you here against your will. You can leave but here you’ll get three squares a day and a bed to sleep in as long as you abide by the rules. Give us a few days and if you still don’t like it, you can go, I’ll drive you back into town myself. Drop you wherever Winter picked you up.”
Dean paused in his progress towards the door. He looked back at Sam for a moment and Bobby knew if it weren’t for the small charge Dean seemed to feel responsible for, he might’ve taken off. The prospect of meals and a roof had derailed him. “I know that back of yours has gotta be stingin’ like a bitch,” Bobby added. “'Least stay long enough for us to fix you up. Couple of hours, we can send you on your way with sandwiches and jerky and you’ll be better off than if you light out of here now.”
Dean’s pause turned into a complete still and the knife lowered a fraction, enough that Bobby knew he was thinking about it. “No one’s going to hurt you here,” Ellen said from the other side of the room and Dean’s gaze swung to her. “Sam sure is a skinny little thing. At least let us send you out of here with full bellies.”
That secured it, Dean again looking back at Sam and then the knife going all the way to his side before being slipped back wherever it had come from. “Anyone tries to touch him and I’ll slit your throats,” Dean promised and Bobby believed him.
000
Bobby watched in fascination as a pile of sandwiches was put down in front of the two boys and Sam looked to Dean, who reached for them and took a bite of every single one on the plate, carefully and meticulously, before sitting back. Neither boy would say a word or take anymore until about an hour had passed when finally Dean gestured at the plate. Sam reached out a small grubby hand and tugged one to him, separating the bread to look at the contents, before squishing it more firmly together and then taking a bite and chewing, as seriously as he seemed to do everything else.
The three of them sat at the long kitchen table, strangely empty without the piles of kids around it. The large kitchen was usually a warm and inviting place, but Bobby belatedly realised it was draughty and a little daunting when empty. Considering they had over twenty growing kids and eight adults, there was always someone baking, washing or making a snack. The old washing machine and ringer sat in one corner and it was odd to see it sitting idle.
“How long you boys been on your own?” Bobby asked, trying to start the conversation. He wanted to explain about the ranch and what they did but he needed to know a little about the kids before him as well.
“A while,” Dean answered noncommittally and Bobby sighed, removing his grubby trucker cap for a second to rub over his head. It was going to be a long time before he got anything close to a straight answer he knew. Dean had his head propped on one hand and was turned sideways so he could watch Sam eat. When Sam had finished the first sandwich he’d looked to Dean before taking another. Apart from the initial bird-like bites Dean had taken, he hadn’t ventured a hand near the plate again.
“How old are you?”
Sam set his sandwich down long enough to hold up two hands, thumb folded down on his left. “You’re nine?”
“Yes, Sir,” Sam answered and Bobby raised a brow. He was starting to suspect these kids hadn’t been on their own for as long as some brought to the ranch. The fact that Sam was still wearing a shirt, while almost ripe enough to get up and walk around by itself, which had his name on the collar, spoke to that.
“You’re… fifteen?” Bobby guessed, looking at Dean. Kids liked to be assumed older so while Bobby thought Dean would be closer to twelve, he’d overestimate because they usually…
“Thirteen,” Dean corrected, eyes still on Sam but he’d turned ever so slightly back towards the table and Bobby.
“Uhuh,” Bobby said, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “So you were by yourselves how long?” Bobby tried again.
“Daddy didn’t come back down the stairs,” Sam said and Bobby grimaced because everything in Dean went stiff. Dean then slid off his chair, grabbing a fistful of Sam’s sleeve and tugging. Sam resisted only long enough to cram the rest of his second sandwich into his mouth before he followed Dean’s pull and dropped to his feet.
“We gotta go,” Dean said.
“Now wait,” Bobby started to protest but right at that moment the sirens went off.
000
Bobby could’ve kicked himself. In between the ruckus, the kids training outside running in and the teachers herding them to their designated safe spots, he lost track of Dean and Sam. He was horrified to think that they might have made for the outside, especially if something had been coming at the fence. A search of the house, enlisting all the trainees, revealing that they had made it outside caused his heart drop to his boots. Lacey, coming back inside with amazement on her face, saying, “You gotta see this,” as she tugged at his hand, made it race right back up to his throat. Bobby followed Lacey outside, expecting the worst even though she was strangely calm. When he circled the house and saw his truck, ringed with something white, he chuffed a laugh and leaned over his knees to breathe for a moment.
“You gotta be kidding me,” he said, moving towards the truck. He hunkered down when he reached the white circle and rubbed some of the stuff between his fingers. It was salt.
He reached the truck itself and opened the driver’s door slowly. Dean was in the foot well lying curled with Sam mostly underneath him. There was a shotgun levelled at Bobby’s face.
“It’s okay, it was a false alarm,” he said, stepping back a little so the door was mostly between him and the barrel of the shotgun. “Damn coyote tripped the perimeter alarm.”
Dean didn’t look entirely convinced, but he pulled himself slowly out of the truck and then tugged Sam out behind him. Bobby was still eyeing the salt circle when Dean handed the shotgun over to Lacey, looking like he wanted to keep it.
“Where’d you learn about the salt?” Bobby asked, a little wonder colouring his voice. He was starting to get an idea just how both boys had survived in the Wasteland for so long.
“Our dad,” Dean answered, his eyes going dark and skittering away from Bobby’s gaze. Sam clung to Dean’s arm, still looking a little spooked.
“Let me show you something,” Bobby invited, stepping back and trying to hide his grin when Dean followed not too long after, Sam shadowing him. Bobby walked up to the farmhouse and scuffed a boot in the dirt a little, enough to reveal a concrete ring just under the surface. “Concrete, mixed with salt, rings the whole house and won’t blow away with the wind,” Bobby said, scraping the dirt back into place. “There’s also wards on every door and window and a devil’s trap on the underside of the floorboards in the living room and the kitchen, two rooms you have to pass through to get upstairs.” Bobby pointed up and saw both Dean and Sam’s faces tilt to follow his finger as it ran along the line of roof that was lined with broken bottle shards and barbed wire.
Bobby watched Dean eye the house, still looking a little uncertain. “You were safe inside,” he continued. “That run between the house and my truck put you in danger.”
“Daddy said when they come, get back to the car,” Sam said from his place behind Dean. “Get back to the car, don’t stop, don’t look back.”
Bobby looked at Sam and then Dean, both with faces pale and drawn. “Okay,” Bobby nodded slowly. “New rule. Stay inside or get inside. Don’t stop, don’t look back.”
He knew it pained them to do it, maybe felt like they were letting go of a little bit of their dad, whoever he was. Bobby was reassured though when Dean nodded, a single up-down of his head and Sam nodded more enthusiastically right after.
“Good okay,” Bobby said. “Now, I think Missouri might have made some pie yesterday. I was saving a piece but I think I can share it.”
Sam’s eyes went round at the mention of pie and Bobby held onto a chuckle, just barely. Underneath the grime he was probably one cute kid. They followed Bobby back to the house, Dean dragging his feet a little.
000
After pie, which again Dean tasted, waited a while and then let Sam have the lion’s share of, Bobby let them out into the backyard where the other kids had gathered again, Theo with instructions to keep an eye on them. He knew they would relax quicker surrounded by children their own age. Bobby sat on the porch steps with a home-brewed beer, Missouri hunkering down next to him.
“What do you think?” Bobby asked, watching Dean using Sam as a shield for once, staying behind him as the kids flocked, always excited to meet new people because it broke up the monotony of the day and got them out of lessons. Sam was immediately friendly and therefore invited into games, Dean a wary shadow at his back.
“Do you really want to know?” Missouri asked cryptically, eyes following the boys as Sam zoomed around playing airplanes with three kids fairly close in age to him. Every time someone got too close to Sam, Theo tensed in response to Dean as his shoulders came up and his head went down, reminding Bobby of a junk yard dog. He could see by the coiled set of Dean’s body that he would have liked nothing more than to haul Sam off and tuck them both of them in a corner somewhere, preferably salted and chalked.
“I asked didn’t I?” Bobby prompted.
“I think they’ve seen too much as most of the strays do,” Missouri said. “But there’s something different… can’t quite put my finger on it yet.”
“Nice and vague like always,” Bobby snorted and accepted the gentle cuff to the back of his head Missouri dolled out for his trouble.
“They’re related,” Missouri said, eyes narrowing. “Brothers most likely. That specific enough for you?”
Bobby blinked at her and then turned back to the yard. Dean had now unconsciously moved close enough to Theo that the older boy was attempting to engage him in conversation. Bobby watched Dean bristle like a wet cat when Theo ventured too close. “Huh,” Bobby grunted.
It wasn’t unusual to find kids in groups of two or more out in the Wasteland but since Red Sunday, he hadn’t heard of anyone that had another single member of their family left.
Author:
kellifer_fic Rating: PG (Language)
Category: SPN, AU.
Word Count: 3,697
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, no offense, no money.
Summary: Ey-as (ahy-us) a young falcon taken from the nest for training.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three
“Went a little overboard, don'cha think?”
Bobby was eyeing the teenager practically mummified by rope lying in the back of Winter’s pickup, including a gag in his mouth. A smaller boy sat next to him, regarding them solemnly with one hand resting on the tied boy’s chest. Winter simply held up a hand to Bobby, showing an ugly bite between thumb and first finger that was red and already bruising around the edges.
“He went for the little’un first,” Lacey said, coming up from around the other side of the truck. She tapped a small fist against Winter’s broad chest, his pale blue eyes looking at her with fond exasperation. “We didn’t even see the other boy until he was on us.”
“Wait a second,” Bobby said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Someone took you by surprise?” Bobby hadn’t thought it possible. Winter was mute and practically silent in every other regard. If it weren’t for his black hair, he would’ve also been an albino, his skin so pale it was almost translucent and his eyes only with the barest hint of colour. Most at the ranch had thought his skin and eyes were a result of something he’d fought.
Winter, ever taciturn, had never elaborated.
“I know,” Lacey enthused, eyes sparkling. “A back full of rock salt put him down quick enough but he still managed to get his teeth into Winter.”
“Shooting ‘em ain’t the best way to garner trust,” Bobby said, looking concerned. His gaze flicked back to the truck bed and he met green eyes that were furious and possibly a little feral. Sometimes the kids they found were too far gone to be trained, as likely to slit your throat as look at you, never able to trust. Those they turned loose after a time. Bobby didn’t like it but he could also see how it was a kindness because the close quarters and other people only made the fear worse.
“I thought he was a spirit, moved so quick and quiet,” Lacey objected, eyeing the boy herself. She was looking troubled and Bobby grimaced. Winter made a short sign, not your fault.
“Well, let’s get ‘em inside,” Bobby instructed, pulling a long, flat wallet out of his jacket and flipping it open. “Should I tranq ‘em both?”
“Little one’s meek enough,” Lacey said, rubbing over her chin contemplatively. “Got right into the truck when we had the other stowed.”
“Okay, good enough,” Bobby nodded and took the tail gate of the truck down, putting hands out towards the smaller boy, who shrunk back with a small noise of fear. His hand tightened its grip on the tied boy, who was still staring at Bobby with rage in his eyes, but now there was also concern there. “How about both at the same time, eh?” Bobby proposed instead. He looked to Winter who sighed with no sound, all head movement and shoulder shrugging, as he moved forward. Winter reached into the truck and tugged the tied boy towards himself, the little one scooting along with him. Winter hefted the tied boy into his arms and the smaller climbed Winter like a tree, settling on his back, arms hooked around his neck.
Winter looked at Bobby and gestured as best he could for him to go on ahead into the farm house. Ellen had appeared at the doorway, rubbing her hands on a ragged dish cloth and holding the screen open with one boot. She raised her eyebrows as Winter passed her, but didn’t comment.
Thankfully, most of the kids were outside running drills. There was always a lot of noise and fuss when new ones came in, the last thing they needed when they’d spent months or maybe years by themselves. Most were spooked so badly by their initial introduction to the ranch that it took days for them to calm enough to be reassured and integrated, if it were possible.
The only kids inside were Sophia, a girl of fifteen who had obviously been helping Ellen with the mountain of dishes and Theo, also fifteen who had a hold of Lacey’s two year old, Buster. The toddler was mostly asleep, head dropped on Theo’s shoulder as the boy patted his back.
“What’s going on?” Theo asked as they entered, passing Buster from one shoulder to the other and looking curious when Winter shouldered through the door with his burdens. Theo was old for still being at the ranch. Most kids were taken by a hunter by twelve or thirteen to become a boot if they were brought in early enough, most on their own by sixteen to seventeen. Theo had always shown a way with the other kids and hadn’t needed to be asked twice to stay on to become a teacher.
“Two for one today,” Lacey said, coming in behind Winter and relieving Theo of Buster who opened one sleepy eye, twisted some of Lacey’s sunflower coloured hair around a fist and dropped right back off to sleep.
Winter leaned over so he could lay the tied boy flat on the couch that took up one wall and before he could raise himself again, the smaller boy had slithered off and wedged himself behind the boy’s head.
“Can you speak?” Bobby asked, hunkering down at eye level to the smaller boy. He would’ve liked to have ungagged the other one because underneath all the dirt and ropes, he was probably twelve or maybe as much as fourteen, but he also remembered the rather vicious bite on Winter’s hand and didn’t particularly want a matching souvenir.
All Bobby got was a blink of solemn eyes but not a word. Bobby, not quite knowing why, leaned forward and gripped the boy’s shirt by the collar, turning the back out. Scrawled in laundry marker in big childish hand was the name, Sam. “Well, Sam is it?” Bobby prodded and the other boy made a grunt of protest and starting flailing on the couch as much as he was able, which wasn’t very much at all. His feet drummed on the wooden arm and his eyes rolled.
“Can’t we untie him?” Theo asked, starting forward and Bobby put out a hand.
The thing was, he wanted to but he’d also seen full grown adults put down by kids who barely reached their breast bones in height if they were desperate enough. These kids, from what Bobby could tell, had survived relatively unscathed for a long time by themselves in the Wasteland and that took equal parts strength and cunning. Hell, after what Lacey had said about the older boy coming out of nowhere, he was willing to bet Sam had been laid out as a decoy and Winter might have sustained more than just a bite if Lacey hadn’t been in the truck when he’d attacked.
“You prove you’re willing to sit still and quiet and I’ll cut you loose,” Bobby advised in an even, soothing tone. “You keep carryin’ on and we’ll have to leave you as you are, maybe feed you through a tube if it takes days for you to calm yourself.”
Sometimes Ellen called what Bobby did tough love with a wry grin. He was the one that broke the kids when they first came in. If he couldn’t do it, it couldn’t be done. Every scar he wore was a kid he’d failed. “Can you tell Gregor to keep the kids outside for another hour or so?” Bobby asked, looking up at Theo. He was still looking torn but nodded, recognising an order when he heard one, even if it was in the form of a question. Theo disappeared out the back and Sophia, who had drifted into the living room’s doorway from the kitchen, also retreated. Lacey, Ellen, Winter and Bobby remained with the two boys.
Bobby reached awkwardly behind the tied boy’s neck but he was out of luck, the name not conveniently etched. “Okay, I’m going to call you John for now,” Bobby started to say but a small hand landed on his shoulder.
“Dean,” Sam said, little frown-line creasing between his eyebrows. “That’s Dean,” he repeated. Dean’s eyes swung to Sam and narrowed, a silent plea for Sam to quiet most likely but Bobby smiled at him.
“Dean it is then,” he agreed and watched Sam nod and subside, taking his hand back and resting it on Dean’s shoulder, small fingers gripping the bit of shirt poking out from above the ropes. “Okay, Dean. How about you stay calm long enough for me to untie you so you can sit up properly and not be hauled around like a slab of beef?”
Dean’s eyes flared for a moment, but then he nodded slowly. Something had flickered in the green for a second, the barest hint of quick calculation that Bobby recognised. He drew his pocket knife and started sawing through the rope carefully, not even bothering to try untying Winter’s knots and one thing they had a lot of was rope.
Bobby didn’t know quite what he was expecting, but Dean jackrabbiting up as soon as he was free enough, bringing a knife from somewhere and an arm coming up to shove Sam behind him, wasn’t quite it. Bobby backed off, giving him space and everyone else in the room doing the same, except for Winter who had moved in front of the doorway to the outside before Bobby had finished slashing the ropes.
Dean held the knife out front and slightly to the side, pointed at Bobby but ready should someone else come at him. Bobby had seen desperate kids with weapons before and the one thing common with them all that Dean wasn’t doing was trembling. He had a hold of something he knew how to use and Bobby gave him the distance he demanded with the small blade.
“We’re leaving,” Dean gritted through bared teeth. He groped behind him and grabbed a fistful of Sam’s shirt, tugging him along as he made for where Theo had disappeared only a few minutes earlier.
“Not that way, you’re not,” Bobby said, hands out and palms up in a placatory gesture. “There’s eight foot high perimeter fence all the way around plus about twenty-five kids all trained in hand-to-hand and their teachers.”
Dean looked behind him for a moment, as if he could confirm what Bobby was saying by staring hard enough through the wall, then switched directions, edging towards Winter and the blocked doorway. “You might not have seen being tied and flat as you were, but out the front is electrified fence that needs to be opened with a code.”
Dean stilled, a fine tremor starting up in his hand and the other working on the grip he had of Sam. Bobby knew he now had to tread carefully, because desperation always led to bad accidents. “Now listen. We’re not about keeping you here against your will. You can leave but here you’ll get three squares a day and a bed to sleep in as long as you abide by the rules. Give us a few days and if you still don’t like it, you can go, I’ll drive you back into town myself. Drop you wherever Winter picked you up.”
Dean paused in his progress towards the door. He looked back at Sam for a moment and Bobby knew if it weren’t for the small charge Dean seemed to feel responsible for, he might’ve taken off. The prospect of meals and a roof had derailed him. “I know that back of yours has gotta be stingin’ like a bitch,” Bobby added. “'Least stay long enough for us to fix you up. Couple of hours, we can send you on your way with sandwiches and jerky and you’ll be better off than if you light out of here now.”
Dean’s pause turned into a complete still and the knife lowered a fraction, enough that Bobby knew he was thinking about it. “No one’s going to hurt you here,” Ellen said from the other side of the room and Dean’s gaze swung to her. “Sam sure is a skinny little thing. At least let us send you out of here with full bellies.”
That secured it, Dean again looking back at Sam and then the knife going all the way to his side before being slipped back wherever it had come from. “Anyone tries to touch him and I’ll slit your throats,” Dean promised and Bobby believed him.
Bobby watched in fascination as a pile of sandwiches was put down in front of the two boys and Sam looked to Dean, who reached for them and took a bite of every single one on the plate, carefully and meticulously, before sitting back. Neither boy would say a word or take anymore until about an hour had passed when finally Dean gestured at the plate. Sam reached out a small grubby hand and tugged one to him, separating the bread to look at the contents, before squishing it more firmly together and then taking a bite and chewing, as seriously as he seemed to do everything else.
The three of them sat at the long kitchen table, strangely empty without the piles of kids around it. The large kitchen was usually a warm and inviting place, but Bobby belatedly realised it was draughty and a little daunting when empty. Considering they had over twenty growing kids and eight adults, there was always someone baking, washing or making a snack. The old washing machine and ringer sat in one corner and it was odd to see it sitting idle.
“How long you boys been on your own?” Bobby asked, trying to start the conversation. He wanted to explain about the ranch and what they did but he needed to know a little about the kids before him as well.
“A while,” Dean answered noncommittally and Bobby sighed, removing his grubby trucker cap for a second to rub over his head. It was going to be a long time before he got anything close to a straight answer he knew. Dean had his head propped on one hand and was turned sideways so he could watch Sam eat. When Sam had finished the first sandwich he’d looked to Dean before taking another. Apart from the initial bird-like bites Dean had taken, he hadn’t ventured a hand near the plate again.
“How old are you?”
Sam set his sandwich down long enough to hold up two hands, thumb folded down on his left. “You’re nine?”
“Yes, Sir,” Sam answered and Bobby raised a brow. He was starting to suspect these kids hadn’t been on their own for as long as some brought to the ranch. The fact that Sam was still wearing a shirt, while almost ripe enough to get up and walk around by itself, which had his name on the collar, spoke to that.
“You’re… fifteen?” Bobby guessed, looking at Dean. Kids liked to be assumed older so while Bobby thought Dean would be closer to twelve, he’d overestimate because they usually…
“Thirteen,” Dean corrected, eyes still on Sam but he’d turned ever so slightly back towards the table and Bobby.
“Uhuh,” Bobby said, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “So you were by yourselves how long?” Bobby tried again.
“Daddy didn’t come back down the stairs,” Sam said and Bobby grimaced because everything in Dean went stiff. Dean then slid off his chair, grabbing a fistful of Sam’s sleeve and tugging. Sam resisted only long enough to cram the rest of his second sandwich into his mouth before he followed Dean’s pull and dropped to his feet.
“We gotta go,” Dean said.
“Now wait,” Bobby started to protest but right at that moment the sirens went off.
Bobby could’ve kicked himself. In between the ruckus, the kids training outside running in and the teachers herding them to their designated safe spots, he lost track of Dean and Sam. He was horrified to think that they might have made for the outside, especially if something had been coming at the fence. A search of the house, enlisting all the trainees, revealing that they had made it outside caused his heart drop to his boots. Lacey, coming back inside with amazement on her face, saying, “You gotta see this,” as she tugged at his hand, made it race right back up to his throat. Bobby followed Lacey outside, expecting the worst even though she was strangely calm. When he circled the house and saw his truck, ringed with something white, he chuffed a laugh and leaned over his knees to breathe for a moment.
“You gotta be kidding me,” he said, moving towards the truck. He hunkered down when he reached the white circle and rubbed some of the stuff between his fingers. It was salt.
He reached the truck itself and opened the driver’s door slowly. Dean was in the foot well lying curled with Sam mostly underneath him. There was a shotgun levelled at Bobby’s face.
“It’s okay, it was a false alarm,” he said, stepping back a little so the door was mostly between him and the barrel of the shotgun. “Damn coyote tripped the perimeter alarm.”
Dean didn’t look entirely convinced, but he pulled himself slowly out of the truck and then tugged Sam out behind him. Bobby was still eyeing the salt circle when Dean handed the shotgun over to Lacey, looking like he wanted to keep it.
“Where’d you learn about the salt?” Bobby asked, a little wonder colouring his voice. He was starting to get an idea just how both boys had survived in the Wasteland for so long.
“Our dad,” Dean answered, his eyes going dark and skittering away from Bobby’s gaze. Sam clung to Dean’s arm, still looking a little spooked.
“Let me show you something,” Bobby invited, stepping back and trying to hide his grin when Dean followed not too long after, Sam shadowing him. Bobby walked up to the farmhouse and scuffed a boot in the dirt a little, enough to reveal a concrete ring just under the surface. “Concrete, mixed with salt, rings the whole house and won’t blow away with the wind,” Bobby said, scraping the dirt back into place. “There’s also wards on every door and window and a devil’s trap on the underside of the floorboards in the living room and the kitchen, two rooms you have to pass through to get upstairs.” Bobby pointed up and saw both Dean and Sam’s faces tilt to follow his finger as it ran along the line of roof that was lined with broken bottle shards and barbed wire.
Bobby watched Dean eye the house, still looking a little uncertain. “You were safe inside,” he continued. “That run between the house and my truck put you in danger.”
“Daddy said when they come, get back to the car,” Sam said from his place behind Dean. “Get back to the car, don’t stop, don’t look back.”
Bobby looked at Sam and then Dean, both with faces pale and drawn. “Okay,” Bobby nodded slowly. “New rule. Stay inside or get inside. Don’t stop, don’t look back.”
He knew it pained them to do it, maybe felt like they were letting go of a little bit of their dad, whoever he was. Bobby was reassured though when Dean nodded, a single up-down of his head and Sam nodded more enthusiastically right after.
“Good okay,” Bobby said. “Now, I think Missouri might have made some pie yesterday. I was saving a piece but I think I can share it.”
Sam’s eyes went round at the mention of pie and Bobby held onto a chuckle, just barely. Underneath the grime he was probably one cute kid. They followed Bobby back to the house, Dean dragging his feet a little.
After pie, which again Dean tasted, waited a while and then let Sam have the lion’s share of, Bobby let them out into the backyard where the other kids had gathered again, Theo with instructions to keep an eye on them. He knew they would relax quicker surrounded by children their own age. Bobby sat on the porch steps with a home-brewed beer, Missouri hunkering down next to him.
“What do you think?” Bobby asked, watching Dean using Sam as a shield for once, staying behind him as the kids flocked, always excited to meet new people because it broke up the monotony of the day and got them out of lessons. Sam was immediately friendly and therefore invited into games, Dean a wary shadow at his back.
“Do you really want to know?” Missouri asked cryptically, eyes following the boys as Sam zoomed around playing airplanes with three kids fairly close in age to him. Every time someone got too close to Sam, Theo tensed in response to Dean as his shoulders came up and his head went down, reminding Bobby of a junk yard dog. He could see by the coiled set of Dean’s body that he would have liked nothing more than to haul Sam off and tuck them both of them in a corner somewhere, preferably salted and chalked.
“I asked didn’t I?” Bobby prompted.
“I think they’ve seen too much as most of the strays do,” Missouri said. “But there’s something different… can’t quite put my finger on it yet.”
“Nice and vague like always,” Bobby snorted and accepted the gentle cuff to the back of his head Missouri dolled out for his trouble.
“They’re related,” Missouri said, eyes narrowing. “Brothers most likely. That specific enough for you?”
Bobby blinked at her and then turned back to the yard. Dean had now unconsciously moved close enough to Theo that the older boy was attempting to engage him in conversation. Bobby watched Dean bristle like a wet cat when Theo ventured too close. “Huh,” Bobby grunted.
It wasn’t unusual to find kids in groups of two or more out in the Wasteland but since Red Sunday, he hadn’t heard of anyone that had another single member of their family left.