Innocence Defiled

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I know nothing, and I want everything. Sigh I just play with them and the themes of the show and then send the boys back home.

Wee!Chester: Dean is 7 and Sam is 3

Author's Note: Not too sure where this story will go or for how long, it came to me in my Romantic Movement lecture this afternoon, from something my lecturer said ... The poet Wordsworth was famous for his ideal of the child, I kindof hope that this will do it justice.



'Sammy, no let it go.'


'Coz I said.'


'Geeze Sammy go an' watch TV.'

'Don' wanna.'

'Don't pout.'


'Coz if the wind changes ya face will stay like that.'


'Ah geeze Sammy please ... Sammy just give it a rest.' Dean sighed dramatically and dropped into the over-stuffed and torn lounge chair.

'Why?' Sammy clamoured up onto the chair next to Dean and snuggled into his big brother's side, a big yawn smothered the next why.

'Coz birthdays are stupid anyways.' Dean said as he wrapped his arm around Sammy's shoulders and pulled his baby brother close. 'Nap time.'

'Not tired.' Sammy yawned, 'wan' story.'

'No story.'


'Sammy we aint startin' that agin.'

'Deanie meanie.' Sammy yawned again, his eyes felt sleepy and heavy.

'Okay geeze you can nag.' Dean tickled Sammy and settled them back into the chair, 'one day there was this really big hero who had two sons an' a wife. They lived in big house with a dog.'

'What doggie?'

'A big black dog, anyway one night the big hero was late comin' home an' he got home jus' in time to kiss his awesome big son goodnight and to cuddle his funny looking baby son.'

'Ew Deanie.' Sammy giggled and pressed in closer to Dean's side, his thumb sliding into his mouth.

'Anyways, this night there was a big scary man who tried to get the awesome son and the funny-looking baby son.' Dean glanced down and discovered his brother already sound asleep, 'an' when he got mad he set fire to the house of the big hero, who tried to rescue his wife but she died so he gave his awesome son the funny looking baby son and told him to run outside and to save his brother, so he did an' then he became a hero just like his dad.' Dean finished in a whisper. Tears bright in his eyes as he started to remember that night. 'Where are ya dad?' He sighed and glanced over at the front door once again.

Their dad had been gone for three long days, on business he said but Dean knew better, he had known for a while what the family business is really. Not long after his birthday last year, he came down downstairs to find his dad asleep at the table with an empty whiskey bottle next to him. On the table, was a large book filled with lots of horrible pictures and stuff that Dean couldn't quite read but he knew it was bad. Then his dad called out, mumbling incoherently and Dean started to see something that no child should ever see in their parent.

Now he was a grown up seven year old, getting ready to turn eight and he knew exactly what his dad did when he went away to work. Dean sighed and stared at the TV screen without watching it. He wanted to go to school, he wanted to play football like the other kids but he had to look after Sammy.

'I'll be eight years old in two days,' Dean said it aloud but made sure that he didn't wake Sammy up, 'maybe dad'll be home by then.'

Dean felt Sammy finally move next to him and looked down at his baby brother, 'hey sleepyhead.'

'Deanie?' Sammy blinked and stared up at his big brother, a warm sloppy smile on his small face, 'thirsty.'

'Okkies let's get sumfin to drink.' Dean slid off the chair and then helped his brother down, 'whatcha want? Chocolate milk?'

'Uhhuh.' Sammy yawned and scrubbed at his eyes, 'gotta potty.'

'Geeze kiddo make ya mind up.' Dean grinned and took his brother's hand leading him to the toilet, 'member to flush.'

'Eww Deanie.' Sammy giggled as he climbed up on the step so he could stand at the toilet just like Dean does.

'Done.' Sammy pressed the button carefully and then jumped down to pull his pants up and to wash his hands. 'All done.'

'Doin' good Sammy, now let's go an' get sumfin to eat an' drink.'

'Not hungy Deanie.'

'Well I am coz my belly's growlin' like a tiger.' Dean made his hands like claws and growled at Sammy before chasing him with the tickle tiger.

'Well, well what do we have here?' A stranger's voice brought the two boys to a stop, wide-eyed Sammy hid behind Dean and peered around him at the strange man, unconsciously sliding his thumb into his mouth. 'So it's true the almighty John Winchester does have brats.'

'What you doin' here? My dad's gonna kick your ass for bein' here.' Dean said as he made sure Sammy was behind him.

'Well ya see I wanna have a chat with yer daddy, and to make sure that you two did exist. And here yer are.'

'How you get in here?' Dean pushed Sammy back as he stepped back.

'Now you two runts come here.' The man went to grab Dean when the boy's foot shot out and kicked him hard in the groin. Breathless he dropped to his knees and tried to shake the dizziness away. 'You little shit.'

'Run Sammy.' Dean yelled as he propelled his brother towards the kitchen, 'run.'

'You little ...' The man's hand shot out and grabbed Sammy's little leg, tripping him over the toddler fell heavily and started to cry.

'Leave my brother alone.' Dean yelled and attacked the man with all of his young strength, while he tried to remember what his dad taught him to do.

'Quit it or I'll make yer brother cry harder.' The man snarled and wrapped his large hand around Dean's thin arm and squeezed brutally.

'Ow, let go.' Dean kept up the fight as he tried to get to Sammy.

'Now we're all gonna calm down and stop cryin'.' The man snarled as he shook Sammy's leg, 'that means you brat.'

Sammy started to sob, his leg hurt where the man squeezed and he was so scared, Deanie was hurt and he wanted his daddy.

'Make him stop cryin' or I'll make sure he does.' The man tossed Dean effortlessly towards Sammy. The two brothers huddled together and watched the stranger carefully, safe in Dean's arms Sammy stopped sobbing, with the occasional hiccup and tears rolling down his face but he remained silent.

'Who are you?' Dean demanded, he refused to back down to the bully, 'my dad's gonna kick your butt.'

'Like I'm scared.' The stranger leered while he pulled a kitchen chair into the centre of the room, then he grabbed hold of Dean and dropped him unceremoniously on it, 'hands behind your back.'


'Put yer hands behind yer back afore I break the brat's arm.'

'Kay.' Dean mumbled sliding his hands through the slats of the chair back all of the time he kept his eyes fixed firmly on his baby brother. Once the man finished tying up Dean he turned on little Sammy. 'Don't you touch him.' Dean yelled which earned him a hard slap across the face.

'Deanie.' Sammy screamed terrified when he saw the mean man hurt his Deanie, but angry too so he jumped up and ran to the man his little foot shooting out to kick the man's shins. 'Meanie you hurt Deanie.'

'Get here brat.' The man grabbed Sammy's arms and shook him hard before he dropped him onto the floor next to the chair and tied him to the leg and then pulled out a dirty rag and tied it around Sammy's mouth.

'Don't you touch him.' Dean yelled desperate to get the man's attention away from Sammy, 'leave him lone.'

'I have had enough of yer lip.' The man snarled and hit Dean again this time hard enough to daze the child and then he pulled out another rag and gagged Dean with it.

When he finished, he stood back and admired his handiwork, 'not too bad if I say so meself.' Grinning he picked up the phone and pulled a scrap of paper from his hip pocket, 'listen and learn.' He smirked at the brothers, he dialled the number and started to pace waiting for the other end to pick up.

'Winchester,' a gruff voice barked into the phone.

'Ah the man hisself.'

'Who are you? How did you get this number?'

'Who I am you will find out soon enough, how I got this number? A friend.' The man spoke while staring hard at Dean, 'got someone who wants to talk to you.' He yanked the gag from Dean's mouth and held the phone to his ear. 'Say hi to daddy.'

'D-Dad?' Dean stammered still dazed from the last blow.

'Oh God Dean? Are you alright son? Sammy ... where's Sammy?'

'Dad, sorry I tried.'

'Hey, hey calm down Dean it's okay.'

'He hurt me and Sammy.'

'That's enough,' the man snarled pushing the rag back into Dean's mouth he crouched down in front of Sammy and pulled his gag out of his mouth, 'your turn runt.'

'Daddee!' Sammy screamed, 'meanie man hurt Deanie.'

'Oh God Sammy, baby boy it's gonna be okay.'

'So Winchester ... you ready to listen now?' The man spoke into the phone while he dragged the cloth back up over Sammy's mouth.

'I'm going to kill you, you fucking bastard.'

'Now, now Winchester watch the blood pressure.' The man took a seat at the table and continued to glare at the brothers while he threatened their father. 'I got a few things I want ya to do if you want yer kids back in relatively good condition.'

'Lay one finger on either one of my boys and I will cut your fingers off and feed them to you one at a time.'

'Listen or you will hear a lot of cryin'.' The man started to tire of the threats already, suddenly not enjoying this as much as he thought he would. Then he steeled his resolve and pulled a faded photo from his wallet. 'What would you do to save the lives of yer boys Winchester?'

'What do you want?'

'Would ya be willing to do anything? I mean anything.'

'What do you want?'

'Coz of you my son is dead Winchester ... what if I wanted to do the same to you?'

'I will hunt you down and kill you, bring ya back and then kill ya again.'

'Shut the ... shut up and listen.'


'I'll let yer get one to help if ya need it, if I were you I'd make it Bobby Singer.' The man stopped and let the message sink in before he finished. 'If you love yer boys as much as ya say ya do then you'll do exactly what I want.'

'Which is?'

'Yer supposed to be the great hunter, the best of the best so we're gonna put it to a test, if ya win, ya get yer brats back.'

'If I don't?'

'Then ya'll never see em again.' The man snickered and then stopped himself, 'yer got twelve hours to get to Singer's, I'll contact ya there.'

'Why are you doing this?'

'Coz of you, my son thought he could hunt an' now he's dead.' The man said and then hung the phone up, 'time to go on a little trip.'