Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm just playing with Kripke's toys.
Spoilers: Mention of events from "Something Wicked"
Summery: Ten year old Dean gets kidnapped. He escapes. End of story? Of course it's a little more complicated than that.
Nothing Else Matters
With a sigh Dean slipped deeper under the covers. Half asleep he inhaled the heavy scent of sweat and aftershave. The scent that was dad. When his dad went on a hunt Dean liked to sleep in his bed seeking comfort from that familiar smell. Usually with the heat of a furnace which goes by the name of Sammy pressed into his side. Not today.
Dean was alone in the bed. Did his little brother got up early? And he didn't nag for breakfast yet? Must be my birthday or something, Dean thought. Ignoring the outside world for a few minutes longer Dean curled up under the covers. As long as Sammy was silent – probably with his nose buried into a book, since that little brat could read Dean hadn't seen his face very often – he could pretend to be still asleep.
Drifting away his mind wandered. Had dad picked a new aftershave? Becoming more awake Dean frowned. When had dad left? Hadn't they been in the car? Great, he sighed. He must have fallen asleep in the car and his dad had carried him inside. Just thinking of that humiliation made Dean blush. He was ten. A big boy. Sammy could be carried around but not him. Besides after what happened a few month back in Fort Douglas dad would most likely just shake him till he woke up so Dean could walk in on his own. Even if his dad had carried him inside why was he not in his own bed?
Something was wrong.
Peeking out from under the sheets Dean looked around. The room was dim the only light came from the ajar door of the bathroom but he would recognize a random motel room even in the dark. This one he had never seen before but that didn't bother him. What bothered him was that he couldn't see his dad or Sammy for that matter – book in his face or otherwise.
However, there was a second bed and it was occupied.
"Dad?" Dean sat up and took a better look around. The man didn't answer which was probably good because he was definitely not his dad. Face down into the pillow Dean could only see his bare back, broad shoulders and a blood soaked dressing on his left upper arm.
Without a noise Dean slipped out of the bed. That was when he noticed that he was wearing a way to big t-shirt and nothing else. His mouth went dry. Staying in the places they stayed his father had made sure Dean was aware of the human monsters out there. The ones who prey on little boys.
I've been kidnapped. Panic raised in his stomach and he just stood there. Frozen like a damn deer in the headlight. Sammy. That thought kicked him into action. Did that bastard get Sammy too?
Dean wanted to call for his brother but he bit his lip to keep himself quiet. There was no sign of Sammy – the room wasn't big enough to hide somebody not even someone of the size of a six-year-old – so hopefully he was still with their dad.
Watching for a sign that the guy in the bed woke up Dean made his way backwards to the door. Not looking where he set his feet he stumbled over some boots. A second pair of boots. Shit. The guy wasn't alone. His eyes darted to the bathroom. Had the door been that open before? Dean couldn't remember. From this angle he saw the mirror and in that the reflection of the second guy. At least he saw part of his arm and shoulder and Dean had no intention to wait till he could see more.
When his back made contact with the door nob Dean yelped in surprise and covered his mouth with his hand. Long seconds ticked by but nobody came out of the bathroom and the man in the bed was still fast asleep. For kidnappers they were just stupid.
Dean stepped out of the door. The parking lot was full with cars and for a second he hoped beyond hope to see the familiar lines of the Impala but the car wasn't there.
It was still early – in the east Dean saw the first hints of dawn – and the motel was quiet. According to all the cars it had to be full to the last lumber-room but apparently Dean was the only early riser. Accept for the guy in the bathroom so Dean closed the door behind him and ran across the parking lot. Gravel bit into his bare feet but he didn't stop running till he reached the line of bushes on the other side. Panting he covered behind the branches and looked back. The lot was still empty and the door still closed. Room twenty-seven. From his point of view Dean could read the sign at the street. "Sunny Side Motel" with a flickering "No Vacancy" beneath it.
"My dad will kick your asses, idiots." Dean promised before he turned around and kept going. He had to move, as soon as they noticed he was gone they would come after him. And this was the most likely direction, he knew that. But only wearing a t-shirt he couldn't use the street. Somebody would notice him and then it would be the police and everything. No, better stay out of sight and let dad handle those assholes, Dean thought with a grim smile.
The motel turned out to be in the outskirts of a small town. After an hour of walking through empty fields and past abandoned factories, Dean's feet hurt and he was shivering in his t-shirt. The sun was up now but it was still chilly.
"I need a phone." That was number one on his priority list. "But some pants would be awesome, too." He muttered. And shoes. He didn't dare to look but he was pretty sure he had a bleeding cut or two on his feet. Thinking of it, he wasn't hurt anywhere else. And hell if he knew how they got him. Maybe drugged him somehow.
Finally the landscape changed and he reached some nice houses.
"Jason, hurry up." A woman yelled. "We are late already. If I show up late again at work my boss will have a word with me."
Hiding behind a tree Dean observed the driveway. Already half inside the car the woman was waiting for her son who just closed the front door of their nice normal house. Glancing down the street Dean saw house after house all looking the same, like clones. Dean knew that monsters were real but this was his definition of creepy. Who in his right mind would live here on his own will?
From his hiding spot he watched the boy – he was about Dean's age – settling in the car a backpack between his knees. Off to school, Dean guessed. There was no other car in the driveway which meant the house was probably empty.
Dean waited till the car disappeared in the distance, then he made his way to the back of the house over the nicely trimmed lawn. The back door wasn't really a challenge and seconds later Dean stood in the kitchen. Dirty dishes in the sink and the smell of pancakes still in the air. Dean's mouth watered but that had to wait. He made a quick round through the house to make sure it was empty. One door upstairs announced in colorful letters "Jason's Room". Dean slipped inside and went through the closet. The clothes were a bit to big for him, however, everything was better than that t-shirt. Before he could put on socks he had to clean his feet. Thank god, the cuts turned out to be just scratches only one still oozing some blood so Dean put a band-aid on it. Carefully he put on the socks and shoes and made some experimental steps. It was a bit uncomfortable but it didn't hurt that much. He could run if he had to.
After he got dressed Dean took a look around in Jason's room. That Jason kid had some fancy toys, his parents had to be rich or something, so Dean had no pang of conscience when he robbed the boy's piggy bank.
Dean was proper dressed and he had some money in his pocket, things were finally looking up.
Back in the kitchen he found the phone but hesitated for a minute. The last thing he remembered had been being in the Impala. They had been on their way to dad's next hunt. So Dean had no number he could call to reach his dad.
Chewing on his bottom lip Dean stood there for a moment and then dealt one of the few numbers he knew by heart. After a few rings the phone was answered.
Dean let out a sigh of relieve before he said: "Uncle Bobby?"