I am so sick and tired of perverts in the world hurting children for their own sick pleasure: an 8 year old girl in Ontario taken from her school, four years ago, and a 30 year old murder of a family of six at a BC campground by someone who was after the 11 and 13 year old girls. I had to write this. I needed to fix things for someone.
Warnings: non-graphic references to past sexual assault of a minor and murder (not the Winchesters though), swearing, good old fashioned hard core justice.
Incidentally enough, it was the older boy Wade saw first.
Probably about seventeen, the kid was lean but muscled and Wade enjoyed watching him for a while as the teen went about setting up a tent, strategically determining where to place each peg before hammering it into the loose gravel on the remote camping site. The kid was good looking enough to warrant a look but that was it, he was too old for Wade's taste.
A pity, he decided from his hidden place amongst the bushes, that the boy wasn't a couple of years younger.
Wade was just getting ready to leave when he heard a voice –
"Dean? A little help?"
- and a younger boy stumbled along the same trail the boys would have used to hike in, his arms laden down with firewood.
The older kid – Dean – gave a derisive snort but hurried to help anyway. "What, Sammy? You can't even carry a bit of wood by yourself? I thought you were supposed to be a big boy now – you being thirteen and all."
Wade tuned out the response, his eyes hungrily drinking in this 'Sammy' kid. He studied the boy.
Small for his age?
And was that a flash of dimples when the kid grinned?
The predator's blood pulsed: this kid was Perfect.
This particular part of the public campgrounds where Wade was 'hunting', were walk-in camp sites only, all vehicles having to be left about a mile and a half away in a gravel parking lot, and he wondered if they were here by themselves or if there were parents he was going to have to take into account.
Undaunted by the prospect, he listened in again.
"I still can't believe that Dad is letting us camp here all by ourselves," Perfect said as he dumped his wood next to the fire pit.
Brothers, then, Wade easily deduced. He loved families.
"Dude, I'm almost eighteen – why wouldn't he?" Dean scoffed as he picked out some of the wood and started to arrange them for a fire.
"Seventeen and a half isn't almost eighteen," Perfect argued ignoring the glare his brother gave him.
Wade shifted to accommodate his growing arousal. He loved feistiness and got the impression this kid would be a fighter. He bit his lip to keep from groaning at the prospect; he loved it when they fought. It made his domination of them that much more exhilarating.
And Daddy or Mommy wasn't with them? This was just going to be so easy.
The predator couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a tantalizing offering and it had been even longer since he dared even 'hunt'., having had to wait until all the fervor died down around the last Perfect he'd found. That one had been a dark haired girl. He smiled at both the memory of their special time together and the fact that her body had never been found.
And this one's wouldn't be either.
Wade just had to wait for his opportunity, one always came along; but if it didn't, before his need grew too great, then the small handgun in his coat pocket could create one; although he really hoped it wouldn't come down to that though, as he loved to leave people behind. He got off on watching them on TV, pleading for their loved ones return, seeing their tear streaked faces and hearing the torment in their voices as they kept saying "I only turned my back for a moment…"
He honed in on Dean again for a moment; he couldn't wait to see the grief on that one's face.
To see it forever stained with the knowledge that while Dean had been right there, his brother had still been taken away from him and he would never see him again.
It would be beautiful.
And then Wade returned to watching Perfect.
"Soon," he promised with a whisper, "we will be together soon…"
These boys were close, that much became evident pretty quickly, as the older teen kept a close eye on his brother, even while he unceasingly tormented him. It was starting to get dark and Wade was considering using his gun, unsure Dean was going to let Perfect out of his sight at all this evening. But then opportunity finally presented itself.
"Need more wood," Dean stated as he tossed the last stick on the fire. A blaze of orange shot up, crackling and hot, before simmering back down to a steady burn.
"I went last time," Sam grumbled as he looked up from the book he was reading. He had unrolled his sleeping bag next to the fire and sounded half asleep. "You go."
"I set up the tent," Dean countered making Wade roll his eyes. Brothers.
"Then I'll make breakfast in the morning," Sam offered, very obviously too comfortable to want to move and the predator couldn't have been more pleased.
Dean seemed to consider that for a moment before he agreed and started towards the same path Sam had used earlier. "It better be good." The seventeen-year old pointed a finger at his brother. "Stay put." And then walked away.
"Yeah, yeah," Sam grumbled and returned his attention to his book.
And if opportunity had knocked any harder Wade would have come right there in his pants.
Instead, he gave Dean a few minutes to get further away and then made his move-
Or he would have if a low voice didn't growl in his ear, "Make one sound and I will gut you," as something sharp pressed in against his back.
"What do you want?" he hissed, angry that this might cost him his opportunity to get Perfect. He kept his eyes glued on the boy.
"Same thing you do-"
Hot breath scalded Wade's ear.
Wade was indignant, his eyes darting towards the path for any sign that Dean might appear. "Well, you can't have him!" he spat. "He's mine! I saw him first!"
In one swift move, his attacker had pulled the gun out of Wade's pocket and whipped him around so they were now standing face to face –
And the look of pure, unadulterated hatred on this man's face made Wade take an involuntary step back.
"You sick son of a bitch," the stranger cursed him.
The venom in his voice sent self-preservative fear through Wade. "Whoa, wait a second here," he loathed the idea of sharing Perfect, but he detested the idea of being dead, more. "Maybe we can work something out. Like a time share or something?"
The man pointed Wade's own gun at Wade, a glove clad finger tight on the trigger. "Shut up," he ordered and then called past him, "Dean? Get your brother and get back to the car."
Dean? Dread sunk deep in Wade's stomach.
"Yes, sir." Dean sounded closer than he should have been.
Wade twitched at the sound of Perfect's voice. He would have wrung such wonderful sounds out of that one…
The hardness in the stranger's eyes – the boys' father, oh crap – didn't match the firm tone he used on his son.
"You're their father?" It wasn't really a question and Wade wasn't concerned about keeping his voice low anymore as he heard the boys move away from the campsite. He would have risked one more look at Perfect but he got the feeling he'd be pushing his luck. As it was, he was beginning to suspect he wouldn't be walking away from here.
Wade briefly considered trying to escape, but one look at the hard lines of a muscular body unhidden by the worn leather jacket, or the steadiness with which the man held a gun in one hand and a wickedly sharp knife in the other, convinced him otherwise. "So, what are you doing to do?"
"That depends on you," the man admitted, hard dark eyes fixed on Wade. It made him feel like a bug under a microscope. "And what you are willing to tell me."
"Me?" Wade frowned. "What do you want to know?"
"Where Melody is," the stranger growled. "I want to know where you hid the body."
Wade frowned. "Melody? I don't know a Melody."
The man, if possible, seemed to grow even bigger, his face black with contempt. "That little girl you raped and killed, five years ago. Melody Granger."
Wade remembered her now.
"I don't know what you are talking about. I didn't ra-"
The man's hand moved so fact, Wade didn't have a chance to avoid the blow as he was struck hard across the cheek with the gun. He dropped to his knees, his hand flying up to cup his face. "Ow!"
"Don't lie to me!" the man raged.
"I-" Wade opened his mouth to argue but was cut off.
"You killed her, just like you were planning on doing to my son… For that, I can't let you walk out of here."
Wade started to shake. Oh God, oh God.
"But you get the choice of how… You tell me where Melody's body is and I'll shoot you, nice and simple, through the skull. You'll be dead in a heart-beat. About as painless as it can be. Or… you don't tell me and I use this knife." Silver glinted as the man admired the weapon in the diming light, giving Wade a very good look at the serrated edge. "I can carve you up nice and pretty, and let you bleed out holding your dick in your hand. Shouldn't take longer than an hour or two… the choice is yours."
There was no choice.
Wade babbled specific directions to the secret spot, making sure the man would have no trouble finding the body. He wanted to lie but was too terrified to come up with anything good.
And then when the man seemed satisfied, Wade sunk down in the dirt and prepared for that killing shot.
But it never came.
Instead the man hauled Wade to his feet and in one fluid movement, drove the knife deep into Wade's stomach, twisted it and then pulled it back out. He let a stunned Wade drop back down to the ground as he stepped back.
"B-but," burning pain tore the gasped protest out of Wade's mouth as his hands cupped fruitlessly at his torn stomach.
The stranger crouched down in front of him, the bloody knife still held in his hand. "You were planning on hurting my boy… And I now have to go and dig up a twelve year old little girl and salt and burn her body so she can finally get some rest. Did you really think I'd let you get away with that? Just be lucky that I'm not going to cut your dick off first." With those words, the man stood back up and walked away.
Through the burning agony in his gut and the sound of blood rushing through his ears, Wade heard the man taking down the tent and packing up his sons' gear. But before he left the stranger came back and stood over Wade. He watched him wordlessly for a few moments.
"W-wha?" the dying man barely managed the whisper.
"My name is John Winchester. I just thought you should know the name of the man who killed you. And when you get to hell?" he paused to make sure Wade was listening. "You tell the Devil I said 'hello'."
And without looking back John Winchester walked away.
A/N: The backstory to this: AKA the Winchester side: John and the boys were investigating a haunting, which turned out to be the ghost of a murdered girl - Melody. Between her and their own research, they were led to Wade, a child predator who had been abducting children from this campground, once every couple of years. He was due to strike again. They realized that a young Sam fit Wade's preferred victim profile so, against Dean's protests, they set a trap. Sam wanted to help and both boys were in on the plan. This was why Dean waited so long before leaving Sam alone - he had to wait for a signal from John that John was in position before leaving Sam. And that was also why an overprotective big brother let his brother lag behind to gather firewood when they first arrived - he knew their father was watching Sam.
Sam's protest at the end wasn't because his camping trip was ruined, it was because he was being sent back to the car when he wanted to stay and see this thing threw. However, John did not want Sam anywhere closer to Wade so he sent the boys away. And while John did leave Wade to let Wade die by himself, he returned later to salt and burn the body. After he put Melody to rest.